The Chansonnier Cordiforme is a songbook, probably copied in 1475 for a roguish but musically cultivated priest named Jean de Montchenu - a contemporary chronicler called him "dissolute and full of all the vices". The beautiful marnuscript containing 43 songs is, uniquely, heart-shaped and covered in velvet. This recording presents both a representative cross-section of the manuscript's repertoire, the majority of which is set to French texts and is among the best known and beautiful of the age, and a portfolio of differing performance options including instruments. In addition to works by such luminaries as Gilles Binchois and Johannes Ockeghem - music of elegant melody, textural refinement, and sometimes startling harmonic turns - there are ingenious and anonymous parodies of popular songs.

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REVIEW:

The performers sensibly take a pragmatic approach to the heated debate as to precisely how these pieces were performed and use a mixture of voices and instruments, with occasional a cappella renditions. I loved these accounts, which are both musically expressive and eloquent in an unhurried way. Binningen provides just the right resonance for full enjoyment of this lovely music.

– Early Music Review (D. James Ross)

Bernardo Storace’s Selva di varie compositioni, published in Venice in 1664, is one of the greatest outpourings of sheer inventiveness in music history. The two passacaglias on this fascinating disc contain no fewer than 320 variations, which are crowned—as are the Ciaccona and the two Passamezzi—with dashing dances, correnti and gagliarde, pointing towards the later development of the Baroque suite. These fine 17th-century pieces in which Frescobaldi’s powerful influence is evident, are played on a modern copy of a beautiful 1697 Italian harpsichord whose clear, rich sound is ideal for this music.

One of the 20th century’s great conductors, Leopold Stokowski was also a prolific transcriber of music for the symphony orchestra, creating a unique repertoire by bringing masterpieces to the concert hall that were often unfamiliar to audiences of the time. José Serebrier was Stokowski’s associate conductor in New York, and drawing on memories of his special quality of orchestral sound has revived and revised the best of these sumptuous arrangements. These include a GRAMMY nominated Mussorgsky recording and Stokowski’s signature piece, Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, immortalized as part of the soundtrack to Walt Disney’s film Fantasia.

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REVIEW:

Anyone who doubts the sustained power of Stokowski’s most famous transcription, Bach’s mighty Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, should experience Serebrier’s enthralling performance.

– Fanfare

Disc 5 of this set is a bonus disc titled "Serebrier on Stokowski."

Reviews of the original recordings which make up this set.


"Stokowski's Bach transcriptions have received a great deal of attention on disc lately, but this is one of the very few recordings that has the genuine flavor that Stoki himself brought to them. The obvious first question is: How do these versions compare to the "originals"? Can they be as good? The answer, quite simply, is "Yes, they can." Serebrier doesn't try to duplicate every gesture that Stokowski made. That would be impossible in any case, given the wide range of tempos and other variations among his own numerous recordings of these pieces...Aside from Bach, Serebrier includes Stokowski's own Two Ancient Liturgical Melodies, a sexy conflation of Veni Creator Spiritus and Veni Emmanuel, as well as the Handel and Purcell items. Dido's Lament sounds particularly dark and tragic in this performance. It's clear that the Bournemouth Symphony is having a great time reproducing these ultra-rich, Golden Age sonorities. The engineering supports the interpretations particularly well, giving the strings the necessary sheen and allowing the climaxes to expand hugely. This new release is an unqualified triumph." -- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

“José Serebrier brings to his recordings of Stokowski transcriptions the same voluptuous orchestral sheen that the old wizard himself managed on his own numerous recordings of this repertoire. However, Serebrier also has the advantage of superb modern sonics to back him up, making these productions eloquent tributes to a beloved friend and mentor, as well as perfectly valid and compelling interpretations in their own right.” -- David Hurwitz, Classics Online

"It would be hard to imagine a more sumptuous disc. Stokowski, in these 'symphonic syntheses,' enhances Wagner's already opulent orchestration with shrewdly added instrumental lines and with the vocal parts usually given to the strings. Then at times he thins the orchestration down for more transparent textures. José Serebrier conducts the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra in thrilling performances, passionate in a genuinely Stokowskian manner and treated to orchestral sound of demonstration quality." -- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone

"José Serebrier deploys an imaginative mix of the great man himself with other early masters. Outstanding items among the latter include Palestrina's Adoramus Te, Byrd's Pavane and Galliard, and a really yummy (but never too droopy) Boccherini Minuet. Stokowski was not really a brilliant orchestrator in terms of timbral variety, but he was a very characteristic one. Key to any successful new recording of his arrangements is string sonority, that special, luminous sheen, especially in soft passages. Serebrier understands this, as others who worked with Stokowski do not." -- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

"Further icing on the cake: the two lovely Tchaikovsky transcriptions (the Humoresque will be familiar to knowledgeable listeners from its use in Stravinsky's The Fairy's Kiss), and Stokowski's own Traditional Slavic Christmas Music, a setting where once again Serebrier shows himself able to conjure a truly authentic "Stokowski sound". Mind you, these aren't mere imitations. Serebrier's flexible approach to tempo and willingness to inject a jolt of extra electricity make something quite special out of the climaxes in A Night on Bare Mountain, and it's very clear that the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra is having as much fun playing this music as you will have listening to it. The engineering stands among the best from this source as well. Spectacular, sensational, skirting the boundaries of "good taste"--this is the real deal." -- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

arlheinz Stockhausen recalled that one day in September 1969 ‘I had the idea of one single musical figure or formula that would be expanded over a very long period of time…I wrote down this melody on an envelope.’ Thus was born Mantra, the first mature example of Stockhausen’s ‘formula’ technique which was to dominate his output until his death in 2007. Effectively a trio including a sound projectionist, Mantra retains a good deal of freedom, transcendental mysticism and playful, abandoned inventiveness within its quasi-serialist approach. This recording is the first to use digital technology, with equipment specially designed by Stockhausen’s former assistant Jan Panis, and approved by the composer.

This disc offers a fascinating selection of both famous and little-known works by Wilhelm Stenhammar. The Serenade ranks among his finest works, and is considered a classic instance of the ‘white nights’ that characterize summer in Northern Europe. Of the remaining works, the ballads Florez and Blanzeflor and Ithaca are notable examples of his vocal writing, while the Interlude derives from his cantata The Song. Prélude and Bourrée is a hitherto unknown work here receiving its first recording.

This is a winner.

Listening to this instantly appealing and well-crafted music put a query in my head. I wondered how many times one of Sweden's greatest composers had been performed at the self-styled "The World's Greatest Classical Music Festival" - the BBC Proms. The answer - in over 100 hundred years might surprise - seven pieces. Dig a little further and you find that of the seven, three are of the same brief orchestral work; the interlude from the cantata The Song and three are of orchestral songs. Indeed three items were in a single concert. Which leaves a single performance of an important work - the Symphony No.2 on 12 September 1985. As part of "The World's Greatest Classical Music Festival" we have benefited from a concert by Michael Ball, two MGM Musicals extravaganzas and a homage to Stephen Sondheim to name but four recent 'happenings' but clearly Stenhammar simply does not measure up in the pantheon of the greats.
 
All of which is a slightly long-winded way of saying this is wonderfully attractive music of consummate skill that deserves to be far better known. Although there is recorded competition for this music - I have not heard the recent Hyperion disc - in their Romantic Piano Concerto series - at the Naxos price advantage and deploying the idiomatic and ever excellent Malmö Symphony Orchestra this is a winner. Soloist Niklas Sivelöv has a Stenhammar pedigree having recorded a solo recital disc of the composer also on Naxos (8.553730); not forgetting Martin Stürfalt’s solo recital on Hyperion. He proves to be an excellent and confident guide. Stenhammar was one of those extraordinarily gifted musicians initially famed as a pianist - his 1892 solo debut was playing the mighty Brahms Piano concerto No. 1 - then as a conductor - he was artistic director and principal conductor of the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra from 1906-1922. Only after that did be become known as a composer. His death from a stroke at the age of just 56 deprived the world of a major talent. As ever in such circumstances it is hard not to speculate what great works might have sprung from his pen if only he had lived another twenty years.
 
Naxos place the larger sprawling Piano Concerto No. 1 Op. 1 second on the disc. Stenhammar had written earlier works but the addition of the Op.1 status shows the significance he felt the work had for him as a composer. The date proximity to his concert debut mentioned above makes the shade of Brahms that hangs over the work all the more understandable; particularly in his deployment of a 'symphonic' four-movement form. If one is being harsh - at over forty minutes it probably outstays its young composer's ability to handle his material over such a time-span. That being said, Sivelöv makes a very convincing and muscular case for the work. Certainly, by taking a good five minutes less time than Mats Widlund on Chandos (an epic 47:18) he minimises the discursive elements in the work. At the budget price point the main challenge comes from the Brilliant Classics re-release of BIS-sourced recordings. I have not heard the Brilliant/BIS first concerto but this current recording's 2nd Concerto is considerably finer than Cristina Ortiz's performance. Simply put Sivelöv has a more impressive technique. This is most clear in the quicksilver scherzo which is interpolated into the first movement proper. Here the kinship with Rachmaninov in general and the Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini in particular stands out. Important to note though that the Stenhammar is the earlier work by some twenty-seven years. Sivelöv is absolutely superb here; all fleet gossamer passage-work and dextrous cross-rhythms. Ortiz plays the notes - just about - but it is far more laboured and as such counter to the spirit of the music. Undoubtedly this is one of Stenhammar's finest works - he still uses the four movement form but here it has been distilled down to a powerfully concise twenty-five minutes and is played in a single unbroken span. I would have thought that there is little debate that it is the finest Scandinavian piano concerto post-Grieg pre-Rautavaara and as such its neglect in the UK at least is a mystery - especially given its instant appeal. Conductor Mario Venzago is totally at home in this idiom and the Malmö orchestra sound very fine. It is not quite an open and shut case in favour of the new disc; the Brilliant set offers three discs thereby including the superb Symphony No.2 as well as the very Germanic - and subsequently disowned - Symphony No.1 and as such is excellent value. It should be noted that the important Symphony No.2 receives a good but not great performance in that Brilliant set. The Naxos disc is better recorded - the early BIS sonics just a little glassy and distant compared to the new disc but conversely the Gothenburg players - in the second concerto at least are just a little tighter than the current Malmö group. Stenhammar deploys thematic material that joins notes across beats almost obsessively and 'coming off the tie' with perfect unanimity gives the orchestra an occasional headache. Nothing in the recording information or indeed in terms of extraneous noise suggest live performances but that kind of technical performance glitch is more common in the concert hall than the recording studio.
 
Naxos have been slowly working their way through the bulk of Stenhammar's modest catalogue - in quantitative terms - although in a rather piece-meal fashion with each disc using a different combination of orchestras and soloists/conductors. I would suggest this new release would be a fine place to start an investigation of Stenhammar's music although the Symphony No.2 and the Serenade would need to be high up the list of requirements - the former in the classic Stig Westerberg/ Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra version. Certainly it remains both absurd and shameful that institutions like the Proms have yet fully to embrace the music of this most talented yet modest man
 
For all lovers of romantic piano concertos this disc will bring great pleasure.
 
-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International

Yale Choral Artists has rapidly established itself as one of the most innovative professional choirs in the world, and its recordings of works by three Yale composers showcase the breadth of contemporary American choral music. They include the powerful ‘statement to the court’ by David Lang, whose ‘the little match girl passion’ won the Pulitzer Prize for Music. Ted Hearne’s ‘Consent’ uses four disparate texts in a complex personal exploration of the role of language in his life, while Hannah Lash’s ‘Requiem’ is an expression of sorrow framed through a re-translation of the Latin text. Lang’s work as well as Lash’s are receiving here their world premiere recordings.

If you bought the earlier issue, do not hesitate to add this disc to your shelves

Hot on the heels of the first volume of the projected Naxos Stanford symphony cycle (see review) comes Volume Two, which again features David Lloyd-Jones at the helm of the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra.

The Second symphony was premièred, under the composer’s baton, in Cambridge in 1882 and there’s a passing link with the subsequent première of the Fourth symphony in Berlin. In that latter concert Joseph Joachim was the soloist in Stanford’s Suite for Violin and Orchestra. Joachim also participated in the Cambridge concert of 1882, playing the Brahms concerto on that occasion. Following the first performance in 1882 there was another airing of the Second symphony at the Gloucester Three Choirs Festival in the following year. However, in his notes for Vernon Handley’s 1991 recording, Lewis Foreman states that he had been unable to trace any further performances until 1990, when the Ulster Orchestra gave it, presumably as a precursor to the Handley recording for Chandos.

The symphony bears the title ‘Elegiac’ and Stanford prefaced the score with four stanzas from Tennyson’s poem, In Memoriam. However, I’m bound to say that I find it hard to detect any elegiac tone in the music itself. The first movement is marked Allegro appassionato. It’s a vigorous movement in which one feels the music is moving forward pretty constantly, culminating in a dramatic coda.

The main theme of the second movement, a Largo espressivo, is rightly described by annotator Richard Whitehouse, as “both graceful and expressive.” This is rather lovely music, which consistently displays a singing quality. This is followed by a genuine scherzo. The outer sections of this quite short movement display a drive that is Beethoven-like. In between is encased a brief lyrical trio but it’s noticeable that even here the timpani maintain the rhythmic pulse underneath the music, albeit quietly, for much of the time.

The finale opens with an adagio introduction that has a decidedly Brahmsian feel. Once the main allegro is reached that section opens with some delightful wind writing after which the music surges along with no little purpose. This finale has genuine drive and momentum and it builds to a jubilant coda in which, once again, I hear the influence of Brahms.

The Fifth symphony dates from 1894 and Stanford drew his inspiration from two poems by John Milton (1608-1674). He inscribed several stanzas from each in the score and, helpfully, Naxos include these verses in the English version of the booklet notes.

The principal subject of the first movement, ushered in by the woodwind at 1:45, is rather jolly. However, there had been quite a degree of urgency to the brief introduction and this urgency remains as a kind of background presence underpinning the essential joviality of the movement as a whole. The music has constant vitality and is fresh and enjoyable to hear. For the second movement Stanford follows the precedent of Brahms by writing an intermezzo, which bears the Brahmsian indication Allegretto grazioso. Lewis Foreman described this movement in his note for the Chandos-Handley recording as “a gently pastoral minuet”. That’s not quite how it comes across in this present performance, however. Lloyd-Jones adopts a slightly faster speed than Handley – he takes 6:28 against Handley’s 6:56 – and thereby gives the music quite a different character. I wouldn’t presume to say which approach is better. To be truthful, I think both work in their own way though I have a marginal preference for the way the movement goes in Handley’s hands. The bottom line is that both conductors are successful in bringing out the genial character of the music.

The third movement, Andante molto tranquillo, was inspired by Il penseroso. Richard Whitehouse describes this movement as “searching” and I agree. It begins with some fine, expansive string writing, which is gradually enriched by the addition of woodwind and horns. This is Stanford at his noble, expansive best. At 3:47 Stanford introduces new material, with flute and clarinet appropriately to the fore as he responds to Milton’s lines about the nightingale, beginning “Sweet bird that shunn’st the noise of folly.” This material is developed for a while until, after a majestic passage for brass (around 6:00) the opening lyrical material returns, but this time in even richer guise and it’s with this that Stanford brings a most impressive movement to a close.

There’s a strange opening to the finale, featuring quiet, stabbing chords. At 0:33 a restless melody in dotted rhythm appears, first on the strings and then taken up by the winds but the music doesn’t really seem to get into its stride until about 1:20. As the movement unfolds the tone becomes more assertive though those stabbing chords keep cropping up. The last of Milton’s stanzas quoted by Stanford begins “There let the pealing organ blow” and Stanford does indeed add an organ to the orchestral palette (at 8:10) though its initial entry is quiet, just gently underpinning the orchestra. At 10:34 the full orchestra and organ intone a majestic chorale and one thinks that this is the Big Finish. Not so. The music winds down and Stanford brings the movement instead to a rich, luminous but quiet conclusion, which I find very satisfying and which aptly echoes Milton’s words:

Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heav’n before mine eyes.

It’s not easy to place these two symphonies. Neither is the equal of Elgar’s symphonies but they are far from negligible and these admirable performances under the convincing leadership of David Lloyd-Jones confirm that they do not deserve the neglect into which they have fallen. Lloyd-Jones obtains fine playing from the Bournemouth orchestra and, as with the previous issue in this series, they have been accorded warm yet detailed sound.

This is another distinguished instalment in this Stanford cycle. Vernon Handley’s pioneering set (Chandos) is most certainly not displaced but these Naxos recordings, and this latest one in particular, can stand proudly shoulder to shoulder beside them. Collectors who bought the earlier issue of the Fourth and Seventh symphonies should not hesitate to add this companion volume to their shelves. More please!

-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

Stanford the consummate craftsman, music that is subtle and unpredictable.

I first became aware of British symphonies when I heard Vaughan Williams’ Sea Symphony. It was not long until I discovered that he wrote another eight. It was but a short step to hearing the symphonic works of Walton, Elgar and one or two from the pen of Bax. Naturally I read a lot about music in those early days, and soon came to realise that there were many such works locked away in the musical vaults. These included the symphonies of Charles Hubert Hastings Parry and Charles Villiers Stanford. However, any reference to these works was always qualified by the epithet – ‘dry as dust’. Moreover, perhaps more damningly, it was insisted that they were pale reflections of the music of Johannes Brahms. Of course, as a neophyte, one believes whatever learned musicologists tell you. It was not until I heard a recording of Sir Adrian Boult conducting Parry’s Fifth Symphony that I pricked my ears up. This was a work worthy of hearing. It may not be as great as Elgar’s Second, but it was still a fine piece of music, full of vitality, depth of emotion and good tunes.

A few years later, Chandos embarked on an ambitious scheme to issue the complete Symphonies of both Parry and Stanford. By that time, I had heard Stanford’s Irish Symphony – so I was ready to give these two cycles a chance. They were issued at a time when vinyl was giving way to CDs so I ended up having to buy most of them twice! Nevertheless, they were worth it. After a couple of years the issue was complete – not only all of Parry’s and Stanford’s Symphonies, but also the latter’s Irish Rhapsodies, the Second Piano Concerto and his Clarinet Concerto. It was a magnificent achievement. However, I truly believed that it was a one-off adventure. Buy now, or regret not having them in your collection for ever! However, that was before MP3 – the original Chandos recordings are now available for download. And then, a couple of years ago, I was surprised that Naxos, with David Lloyd-Jones, had decided to embark on another cycle to complement Vernon Handley and the Ulster Orchestra.

It would be easy to apply a kind of progressive aesthetic and write off Stanford’s symphonic achievement as being retro and therefore worthless. It is all too easy to detect echoes, and loud ones at that, of the music of Felix Mendelssohn, Robert Schumann and Johannes Brahms. It would be simplistic to suggest that Stanford is no Mahler or Bruckner or Elgar, pushing the boundaries of post-romantic music to its limits. It is much better to try to understand and enjoy these works as they are. Stanford is a consummate craftsman - he understands the formal principles of the symphony better than most and he develops some very subtle approaches to the various so-called ‘standard movement forms’. There is certainly nothing predictable about his music.

The First Symphony in B flat was written in 1876 and was entered into a competition run under the auspices of the Alexandra Palace. It was deemed so successful that it won the second prize. The first prize went to the now long-forgotten composer Francis Williams Davenport. John F. Porte writes, "The judges were the once famous [George] Macfarren, now deemed a musty academic, and Joachim, the famous violinist. There were thirty-eight symphonies submitted.

Stanford’s work was not performed until some three years later. It was never published and was not given again in the composer’s lifetime. However, there is no doubt that the work was successful and did something to draw attention to the twenty-four year old composer."

The Symphony No. 1 is quite long, lasting for more that forty minutes. Naturally with any work of this length there are issues of maintaining the listener’s interest. In this case I believe that Stanford manages to achieve this – with one proviso. Many people hearing this work will assume either that the rumours of his style are true – and they will expect to be bored. Or else they will expect a late-romantic work and be disappointed. Either way there is a danger that fatigue will set in. I guess the true approach to this work is to see it in the trajectory from Beethoven, Mendelssohn and Schumann and treat it as a kind of extension of these three composers. Of course it is no ‘Fifth’ or ‘Ninth’ but I feel it compares well with Mendelssohn and he should certainly not allow Schumann to make him feel embarrassed.

The long opening movement is probably unique in British music prior to Sir Edward Elgar – most especially for its length. There are so many ‘lost’ and ‘hidden’ British symphonies from that period - including the other thirty seven that were entered for the competition – so who really knows? I find this music totally satisfying and from the opening slow introduction into the ‘allegro’– the contrast between themes and sections avoids any possible lack of interest. The principal theme and the second subject seem to complement each other in music that is at times reflective and sometimes decisive.

The second movement is hardly a traditional scherzo – it is signed ‘In Landler Tempo’ which suggests an ‘intermezzo’ rather than more robust or witty music. It is not ground-breaking stuff - but both the formal and the instrumental balance reveals this as well thought out music that is both captivating and suave. Stanford contrasts the main theme with two fine trios.

Like a number of Stanford’s Symphonies, the slow movement is probably the heart of this work. Yet this is not some great meditation on the meaning of life – more a reflection on a young man’s dreams. Here and there the careful listener may detect hints of Irish folk-song and a general feel of the Emerald Isle rather than the banks of the Rhine. Look out for the use of the solo violin towards the end of the movement. I think this CD is worth the purchase price just to hear this one movement – although I strongly counsel against excerpting!

The ‘Finale’ manages to combine drive and momentum with a more pedantic, but thoroughly enjoyable fugal passage. Here Stanford makes expert use of the brass. This is an exuberant and exciting end to what was surely a superb First Symphony.

There are a number of other versions the Clarinet Concerto. In fact it is probably the most popular and performed of all of Stanford’s orchestral works. Perhaps most British music enthusiasts will already own Janet Hilton’s account with Vernon Handley on Chandos or one of those by Thea King (Hyperion) or Emma Johnson (ASV Sanctuary). Without wishing to knock any of these fine recordings, I do wish to suggest that this present version is essential for all Stanford enthusiasts. I am especially impressed by the contrast that Robert Plane creates between and within movements. For my money, it is a moving and sometimes revelatory performance.

The Clarinet Concerto is written in three movements with the two outer ones together being nearly the same length as the ‘andante con moto’. The opening movement balances a sense of exuberance with more reflective music that definitely looks forward to the slow movement. It ends quietly and prepares the way for the ‘andante’, which is the heart of the work. Here the fifty-one year old composer is in his element. Every note of the music makes it mark, yet it does not wear its heart upon its sleeve. This is not all ‘genial’ as clouds impose on the progress of this music. I would suggest that in some ways there is a valedictory feel to this movement. Yet just before the depression sets in, the geniality is revealed: once again the sun shines. However, all of this is truly beautiful. The final movement, an allegro moderato, resolves any outstanding problems created in the foregoing movements and, after a number of quasi-cadenza episodes, leads the work to an optimistic and positive conclusion.

I am disappointed that there is no mention in the liner-notes about the soloist, Robert Plane, the orchestra or David Lloyd-Jones. In these days of the ‘Net’ it is easy to find out about the protagonists – but a few words would have been helpful – for those who are not permanently logged-on or who wish to listen to the music away from a computer terminal! The programme notes, by Richard Whitehouse, could have been a tad fuller for these two major works – but I guess there is little historical material to build on.

Yet all-in-all this is essential listening for three groups of people. One, Stanford buffs like myself who never imagined I would live to see one, let alone two Stanford cycles in my lifetime. Secondly, to any British music fan who wants to see what kind of symphonies were being written in the 1870s. And finally by those people who still swear by the old lie that Stanford is somehow ‘dry as dust’, that he lacks romance, drama, poetry, interest and sheer musicality. They need to get their heads around this CD and discover why people are coming to regard Stanford as the G.O.M. (Great Old Man).

-- John France, MusicWeb International

It would be hard to improve upon the Gould Piano Trio’s irresistibly stylish and fervent advocacy of both these uncommonly rewarding works; indeed, they sound as if they have been playing this repertoire for many moons, and in the Piano Quartet they generate an infectious rapport with the excellent viola player David Adams. ... A coupling to relish, this, and most enthusiastically recommended.

– Gramophone [4/2015]

A Stanford CD première and a convenient grouping of the three chamber works with solo clarinet, in excellent performances.

The race for Stanford premières continues. The present disc completes the three Piano Trios. Nos. 1 and 2 were both recorded by the Pirasti Trio on ASV; my review of these may be read here. The other three works are Stanford’s only chamber music involving a solo clarinet and have all been recorded at least once. This is the first time they have been usefully grouped together, though.

I’ve listed the works above in the order they appear on the CD, but I shall discuss them in chronological order. I suggest that the listener might hear them in this order at least once, in the light of the following comments, as well as Keith Anderson’s excellent notes, which also adopt a chronological approach. I can see arguments in favour of the running order on the disc if you just wish to sit back and enjoy your Stanford.

When Stanford completed the Three Intermezzi in December 1879 he already had Sonatas for Violin and Piano (c.1876-77) and Cello and Piano (1877) to his credit, as well as a lost Piano Trio (c.1875). His handling of larger forms was at this stage creditable and sometimes bold, but he had also proved his mastery of smaller structures in the Service in B flat (1879). He does so again in these three delightful pieces which are beautifully written with a real dialogue between the instruments. The forms are simple ABA + coda but the Intermezzi are well contrasted, the first sweet and songful with a scherzando middle section, the second a passionate ballade-like piece with a gentle but flowing central idea, the last delicate and humorous, contrasting with a broader, hymn-like theme. Brahms is not so far away but he had as yet written no clarinet music; Schumann’s Romances for oboe and piano were doubtless known to Stanford.

In our own day, the fact that they are for an instrument with a small repertoire is a likely selling-point. Stanford, in order to get them published, had to arrange them for violin and piano. The title-page of the original Novello edition described them as for “Violin (or Clarionet [sic]) (or Violoncello ad lib.)” though a footnote on the first page of the score did mention that they were originally composed for clarinet. Parts for clarinet (and for cello) were available, but Stanford’s op.13 was issued in its original form only in 1979 by Chester.

The first recording was by Colin Bradbury and Oliver Davies on a Discourses LP (ABM 29), now available from Clarinet Classics. I have never heard this. Admirers of Stanford will most likely know the recording by Emma Thompson and Malcolm Martineau (ASV CD DCA 787), coupled with the Stanford Clarinet Concerto and the Concerto and Bagatelles by Gerald Finzi. Both this and the new recording are excellent. I noticed a few minor interpretative differences between them but nothing to make me prefer one or the other. There is also a recording by Gervase de Peyer and Gwyneth Pryor (GDP 1007). Stanford’s next work for clarinet was the Concerto op.80 (1902). My review of the King/Francis recording also discusses those by Hilton/Handley and Johnson/Groves. More recently Jonathan Woolf reviewed a historical recording from 1952 by Frederick Thurston, who as a young man had played the work under Stanford’s own baton.

Thurston was a pupil of Charles Draper, who had taken up the Clarinet Concerto after its original dedicatee Richard Mühlfeld refused to play it. Draper and Oscar Street were rewarded with the dedication of Stanford’s Clarinet Sonata (1911). There was a slight delay before the work was performed in 1916 and published in 1918 but thereafter the dearth of good romantic clarinet sonatas ensured that this was one Stanford work that never fell entirely out of sight. The central movement, a moving “Caoine”, has always been recognized as one of Stanford’s finest, and most obviously Irish, creations. Opinion has been divided as to whether the outer movements are merely efficient Brahms clones or something more. I played the work with a clarinettist in my university days and I have never felt it lacks either emotional engagement or personality. It is necessary to seek out the enchanted Celtic atmosphere and the leprechaun humour with limpid tone and transparent textures, but it is there.

In the days when it was politically correct to perform a single movement of a sonata, the “Caoine” was sometimes heard alone. It entered the record catalogue many years before its companion movements in a 1937 Decca recording by Frederick Thurston. The first complete performance was presumably that by John Denman and Hazel Vivienne, issued in 1971 on the short-lived Revolution label. I never bought this but I recall that in 1974 the best the BBC could manage as a tribute to Stanford on the 50th anniversary of his death was the Second Cello Sonata in a recording of their own by the lamented Thomas Igloi and the Denman/Vivienne Clarinet Sonata. My impression was that the recording was too cramped and boxy to enable the listener to judge whether the predominantly unsympathetic impression was partly the performer’s fault too. Denman re-recorded the work with his wife Paula Fan – see review by Rob Barnett. The first recording to circulate widely was presumably that by Thea King and Clifford Benson (Hyperion). My comparisons have been with this and Einar Jóhannesson/Philip Jenkins on Chandos. At least two versions that I don’t know sound promising: Gervase de Peyer/Gwyneth Pryor (GDP 1004) and Victoria Soames/John Flinders (Clarinet Classics). All these records present mixed programmes of British clarinet music.

One performance of those I know seems to me to get to the heart of the work – the Jóhannesson. King (07:45, 05:50, 06:00) and Plane (07:33, 05:40, 05:31) are not dissimilar in their approaches, while Jóhannesson is significantly broader (08:11, 07:09, 06:51). The music amply repays the performers’ faith in it, acquiring greater stature, range and depth. In particular, the “Caoine” is allowed its full weight of grief and tender regret. However, King and Plane do many lovely and loving things. Again, I find it hard to choose between them. Perhaps Frith has slightly more tonal allure than Benson – but I have the Hyperion on LP – while King is marginally smoother-toned. For sheer richness of tone Jóhannesson outdoes both.

Between the Clarinet Sonata and the Third Piano Trio, completed in April 1918, came the war. The score has the subtitle “Per aspera ad astra”, a direct reference to the Royal Flying Corps, and the dedication gives the initials of five officers who were killed in action. Two were sons of Alan Gray, Stanford’s successor as organist to Trinity College. Despite this the music, while highly serious in tone, is not elegiac or even sombre. In some of his later post-war works Stanford was inventive, even experimental, in his attitude to traditional musical forms. Here consolidation seems his main concern. The first movement is a succinct, taut piece which packs considerable punch, the second a noble, sometimes impassioned flowering. The finale is energetic and busy. As in the finales of the two previous trios, it is possible to feel a lowering of inspiration, perilously close to mere entertainment, though the secondary material makes some amends. Still, it’s enjoyable in its way. I wonder if a slower tempo might help? I’d call this “Allegro molto” rather than “Allegro maestoso e moderato” though the performance does not exactly sound rushed. This query apart, the Gould Piano Trio give an excellent account. Frith’s sensitivity to Stanford’s piano writing suggests Naxos should ask him to set down some of the solo works.

As I recently had the pleasure of discovering with the Third Piano Concerto (on Lyrita, see review by John France, a review by myself is also on the way), the post-war Stanford could sometimes take a richly inventive attitude towards musical form. The three Fantasies (1921-1922) – the third, for horn and string quartet, is available on Hyperion, see my review and those of Rob Barnett and Michael Cookson – take this a stage further. They are in a sense miniature Clarinet Quintets, each in three movements, played without a break, but the effect, however tightly controlled, is of free rhapsodizing. Nothing is known about the composition of these pieces. Jeremy Dibble has suggested they might have been written for student performance at the RCM (Charles Villiers Stanford: Man and Musician, Oxford 2002) but no evidence has come to light that they were actually performed there. In 1922 the young Frederick Thurston played Stanford’s Clarinet Concerto with the composer conducting the RCM orchestra. Quite often in Stanford’s late years the revival of an earlier work seems to have stimulated the composition of a new one. Performances of the First Violin Concerto and Second Piano Concerto during the war years by Margaret Harrison and Benno Moiseiwitsch respectively resulted in a new concerto for each instrument (1918-1919). Here too, there is no evidence that Stanford actually submitted the new works to these or other performers and they were certainly never played. The titles of the Fantasies have led to speculation that they may have been intended as entries for Cobbett’s “Phantasy” competition. Yet again, there seems to be no evidence that this was so. Stanford attached no opus numbers to them and does not appear to have sought publication. Was he uneasy about his relative departure from tradition?

The pieces only came to light in the 1990s and those for clarinet were first recorded by Thea King with the Britten Quartet (Hyperion). I had hitherto thought the Fantasy for horn the finest, but the heartfelt performance here of the central Andante of the first of those for clarinet makes me realize that King – elegant but cool – had missed its finer qualities. I now find it an enigmatic, but touching and compelling work.

I don’t doubt the strength of feeling behind the second Fantasy but I do feel it lacks thematic distinction, almost as if Stanford is determined to demonstrate that you can make something out of nothing. On the other hand, the sheer catchiness of the perky little motive that scampers over most of the outer sections may be irresistible for some – a curious anticipation of Malcolm Arnold. This time Thea King gives the Adagio its full weight of expression and I see no reason to prefer one performance over the other. Altogether, this useful grouping of Stanford’s three chamber works involving clarinet seems to be the most convenient way of getting them, though I think you should hear Jóhannesson in the Sonata.

The Second Piano Quartet op.133 (1913) is now the one large chamber piece with piano by Stanford still unrecorded, together with one or two CDs-worth of smaller pieces for violin and piano. While we still await String Quartets 3-8 and the Second String Quintet. Still, we’re getting on …

-- Christopher Howell, MusicWeb International

Choral music was central to Charles Villiers Stanford's life as a composer. Balancing solemnity with rapturous affirmation. The Resurrection was his first major choral work, written while he was studying under Carl Reinecke in Leipzig and anticipating Mahler's use of Klopstock's eponymous poem in his "Resurrection" Symphony. The dramatic, at times almost operatic and Wagnerian Stabat Mater is a cantata with two purely orchestral movements suggestive of a large-scale symphony, while Song to the Soul contains some of Stanford's most exhilarating utterances, though it was never performed in his lifetime.

Carl was the elder of two musical sons of Johann Stamitz, leading light of the Mannheim school. In 1770 he left for Paris, subsequently travelling widely and composing extensively. Although a violinist, a series of clarinet concertos are amongst his best known works. These have previously been issued on Naxos (8.553584 and 8.554339), discs which are highly recommendable.

In 1776 Stamitz published six quartets. Numbers 1 and 4 were specifically intended for orchestra, 2 and 5 were marked as “concertante” works and the remaining two (not played here) for undefined forces. If I have understood the booklet correctly, and my ears do not deceive me, there are no important differences between works here in the size of forces – all are for a modest-sized string orchestra. In the concertante works it sounds as though the top part is frequently for solo violin – presumably Donald Armstrong who leads and directs. Unfortunately the booklet lacks specific information on the instrumentation. Although the ambiguities of score markings are mentioned it would be of interest to know how they were interpreted by these players. Otherwise the documentation is excellent and has the authority of Allan Badley who edited the scores.

All the works are full of charming tunes and number four in particular is delightful within a standard fast-slow-fast movement structure (number five deviates in having two movements). The second movement is not very slow – almost Allegretto – and the finale has an unexpected and tantalising close. The concertante works add variety in the middle of the disc and the Presto finale of the G major work is greatly enjoyable. The “orchestral” works have a bit more substance and the disc closes with the initially rather grand C major quartet and its humorous finale.

The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra Chamber Orchestra (to give its full title) will be twenty years old in 2007. They have previously recorded a disc of Beck symphonies (see review) and I was impressed enough with the music and playing to make that one of my discs of 2005. If this offering is not quite in the same league, it is not down to the sensitive playing or natural recording – Stamitz’s music is just not as provocative as Beck’s. But it is well worth hearing; anyone who enjoyed the clarinet concerto recordings mentioned above is unlikely to be disappointed. Haydn and Mozart didn’t have it all their own way towards the end of the 18th century – Stamitz was recognised in his lifetime and is worthy of retaining a foothold in the repertoire two centuries on.

-- Patrick C Waller, MusicWeb International

"The main attraction here will be the fact that, in the classical era, the viola was not a frequently-used solo instrument. Until the twentieth century and composers like Bartók, Walton, Hindemith, Pettersson and Bloch, the viola concerto repertoire is remarkably thin: two concertos by Franz Hoffmeister and a series by Carl, Anton and Johann Stamitz from the classical period, Berlioz’s Harold in Italy, a nearly-forgotten concerto for viola and clarinet by Max Bruch, and two large-scale virtuoso works by York Bowen and Cecil Forsyth, played by Lawrence Power on a fascinating Hyperion CD.

The concertos themselves are elegant classical creations, worthy examples of the era of Mozart and Haydn without ever really challenging the ears, or the supremacy of that duo. The solo instrument is the primary appeal: Stamitz and Hoffmeister clearly have an affection for the viola and an understanding of what it can do as a soloist. The stereotype of the viola as a sad instrument fit for mourning or bitter emotional episodes, the way it was typecast by composers as different as Walton and Brahms, is not at all in evidence here: all three concertos are in major keys and all three demonstrate the instrument to be a versatile and interesting star.

Hoffmeister is especially free with his soloist: the viola gets an extended solo in the adagio of the concerto in D, and in the B flat adagio sings nearly from start to finish a melody which weaves up and down across the registers. There are challenging double-stops and good tunes in every movement. Stamitz, on the other hand, adds resonant clarinets to the wind section and seems, especially in the first movement and its epic cadenza, to be working on a slightly bigger scale than Hoffmeister’s serenade-like works. Strikingly, the Stamitz slow movement briefly features the soloist in duet with the orchestral viola section.

These are not period-instrument or particularly period-informed performances; they use tasteful vibrato and contemporary strings. The Baltimore Chamber Orchestra is up to all its demands, Markand Thakar is a steady hand at the helm, and Victoria Chiang, professor at Baltimore’s Peabody Conservatory, makes for a superb soloist, with no second thoughts about what technical demands there are and with the richness of tone necessary to really “sell” the viola as solo instrument.

For those who enjoy this - and those who listen no doubt will - more of the Stamitz family’s viola concertos are available on a Supraphon disc, and the Baltimore Chamber Orchestra, Thakar, and Chiang last year collaborated on an intriguing disc of concertante works by Ignaz Pleyel, who was very roughly a contemporary of Beethoven. The Pleyel album comes with a downloadable bonus track which extends the playing time to 90+ minutes, though if you acquire it as a download there’s no extra step. If you have either of those two discs, this is a logical next step, and a happy one too."

-- Brian Reinhart, MusicWeb International