Includes work(s) by Joaquin Turina. Soloist: Jordi Masó.

Joaquin Turina's skillfully-wrought brand of Spanish Romanticism never fails to delight the ear, especially in the hands of a pianist sensitive enough to project the music's heady Andalusian evocations. Jordi Masó pretty much fits the bill. He handles Turina's not inconsiderable technical demands with ease, and modulates his attractive sonority to emphasize the composer's entrancing harmonic ingenuity. The playing also boasts attractive rhythmic character, as in Masó's understated lilt in the Op. 79 Suite's Bolero and Fandango, and in the curvaceous line he brings to Op. 55's Dance of Seduction. Some listeners may prefer Sara Davis Buechner's flashier, hotheaded virtuosity in the Op. 8 Danzas Andaluzas (Koch), or Albert Guinovart's leaner, more impetuous way with the inspired Op. 22 Danzas fantasticas and both the Op. 55 and 84 sets of Gypsy Dances (Harmonia Mundi). Yet there's much to be said for Masó's less personalized though always thoughtful mastery, along with Naxos' ample if slightly dry engineering. In sum, this is a release that indicates the beginning of a satisfying cycle. Recommended. --Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

"A new release on Naxos of a forgotten work, 'Song of the Stars' by the esteemed Spanish composer Enrique Granados, is real cause for celebration. This 17-minute piece for piano, organ and three choirs had not been heard since its debut in Barcelona in 1911—at the same concert at which Granados unveiled his monumental piano suite 'Goyescas.' It is more than the passage of time that distinguishes this find, however. It’s a masterpiece. What’s more, the new live recording, featuring conductor Dennis Keene and the Voices of Ascension, pianist Douglas Riva and organist Mark Kruczek is gorgeous in every way—from the engineering quality to the impeccable performances of both singers and instrumentalists. ... It has been a long process. But the final result is in and, says Mr. Riva, it has all been worth it. 'I’m proud and gratified to be able to bring this glorious piece to the world again.'" -- Stuart Isacoff, The Wall Street Journal, 7/20/09

An exceptional program, full of rewarding new encounters

This program of works by five Catalan composers, recorded at a series of New York concerts in March 2007 and performed by the excellent Voices of Ascension, will be a very satisfying discovery for fans of choral music. Several of these pieces make their world-premiere recording debut here, and in any event, except for Casals' justly revered Nigra sum, this music is rarely encountered in concert or on disc.

Some of it, namely Casals' Rosarium Beatae Virginis Mariae (nine brief settings of liturgical texts, from the Pater noster to three different Ave Marias--with gorgeous soprano solos by Elena Williamson in two of the latter), was never intended for concert use but rather for services at the Catalan monastery of Montserrat. These pieces are beautiful little gems, well worth repeating, that exude an ardent reverence for the texts. Alternately, Granados' Salve Regina is a fairly routine, functional piece of late-19th-century Catholic church music--it's certainly pretty and effective in its evocation of the text, but not particularly remarkable or musically compelling.

On the other hand, you understandably may reach for the repeat button after hearing the stunning opening to Enric Morera's Ave Maria, with its leaping choral chords over the organ's imposing foundation, joined by a fine soprano soloist (Melissa Kelley). The same composer's El Rossinyol (The Nightingale), for men's choir, recalls rustic folksong settings by Brahms or Schumann, while Manuel Blancafort's Cant d'amor charms with its delightful tune (reminiscent of another Catalan song, La dames de Mallorca) and some occasionally adventurous harmonic treatment. Even more interesting, and for me the disc's highlights, are the two short a cappella selections by Manuel Oltra (b. 1922), which show some real harmonic and rhythmic inventiveness--and expert choral writing--in their realization of two poems by Federico Garcia Lorca.

Granados returns with two instrumental works. Romanza, for violin & piano, in the style of Romantic light yet sophisticated parlor music, is full of pleasing melody and rich harmonies. It's certainly easy to listen to, especially in Erica Kiesewetter's sensitive interpretations; but at nearly six minutes it's a bit long for its material. Escena religiosa, which involves both organ and piano as partners to the violin, is highlighted by an emotionally-wrought melodic violin passage supported by hymn-like utterances from the other instruments. My complaint here is that the violin is recorded in an oddly close perspective that subdues its natural resonance.

The "big" work here is Granados' Cant de les estrelles (Song of the stars), which has either been lost or in legal limbo for decades. It receives its recorded premiere here--and its first performance since its debut in Barcelona in 1911. Scored for the unusual combination of piano, organ, and three choruses (which ensures a future of rare performances!), the work opens with an extended piano solo that owes much to Granados' early roots in Schumann and Chopin. It really gets interesting when the organ enters after six minutes or so; then at eight minutes, the ethereal-sounding voices float briefly over the piano, soon returning a cappella, alternating with the instruments.

Harmonically, the music varies from simple thirds in the chorus to a sort of Wagnerian-style chromaticism to the big-chord piano outbursts of any number of late-Romantic composers. The work concludes with an extended celebration of the Cant de les estrelles itself, richly, traditionally harmonized. This is an exceptional program, full of rewarding new encounters, very respectably recorded--and especially noteworthy for Manuel Oltra's Eco and Preludio and Granados' often strange and wonderful Cant de les estrelles. Highly recommended!

--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

RODRIGO Danza de la amapola. El album de Cecilia. Danzas de España. Sonatas de Castilla. Suite para piano. Cancíon y danza. Preludio al gallo mañanero. 3 Evocaciones • Artur Pizarro (pn) • NAXOS 8.557923 (72:02)


Artur Pizarro boasts a big, virtuoso technique and a full sound. It stood him in excellent stead when he recorded the three Kabalevsky piano sonatas for Collins Classics a decade or so ago. (Perhaps that recording will turn up on Naxos in due course.) Along with Pizarro’s strength comes clarity, even more crucial in Rodrigo’s piano music, which shares the open textures and harmonic piquancy of his concertos—the qualities that make them so easy to love.


Rodrigo’s solo piano works are mostly joyous and playful, not only in the childlike Album for Cecilia (the composer’s daughter), but elsewhere too. Exceptions are the early, Ravel-influenced Evocaciones , with their atypical scale passages and flourishes. Although a good pianist himself, Rodrigo soon pared back his style. In quieter movements, such as “Rustica”—the first of the three Spanish Dances —and the second Castilian sonata, the composer who immediately comes to mind here is Mompou.


The forthright Pizarro, helped by close piano sound, is a reliable and sensitive guide to this repertoire. This is the second (and final) volume in his Rodrigo series. ( Fanfare does not seem to have reviewed Vol. 1, but I could be wrong.)


Regarding the competition, there is a well-regarded double-CD set from Bridge, played by Gregory Allen, which I have not heard; it includes some pieces for four hands. The four major works on Pizarro’s disc also appear on a single CD selection by María Garzón (on ASV). Her pianism is smoother and more fluid, with a bit more light and shade at her disposal, although there’s very little in the comparison. Garzón’s Evocaciones are certainly more evocative. If it’s a consideration, Pizarro’s instrument is better tuned in the very high treble register, where Rodrigo spends a lot of time.


In short, this is an enjoyable and varied program, confidently performed.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

This disc is pure pleasure, plain and simple.

The Concierto serenata for harp and orchestra is Rodrigo's finest concerto, the one best suited to its solo instrument, with tunes and timbres that reveal the composer's gracious lyricism (and disguise his near total lack of dramatic tension) to best effect. A harp, of course, sounds sort of like a guitar, and more so--much wider in range, dynamics, and sonorous potential. So it should come as no surprise that the Concierto de Aranjuez works even better in this, the composer's own transcription. The problem with the original version is that the guitar is usually inaudible unless the orchestra is kept down to the point where you wonder why it's there at all. Today of course, amplification helps, but it can't entirely conceal the basic mismatch of timbres.

These performances are splendid. Gwyneth Wentink commands a lovely, liquid tone that doesn't thin out excessively in the instrument's upper register, and she's perfectly balanced against the larger ensemble. Conductor Maximiano Valdes accompanies with spirit, and the orchestra plays this never very difficult music with the sweetness and purity Rodrigo's melodies require. I'm sure some listeners will disagree with me here (particularly guitar enthusiasts) about the relative merits of the two versions of the Concierto de Aranjuez, but Rodrigo's music with harp permits an additional touch of textural opulence otherwise missing in his orchestral writing. This disc is pure pleasure, plain and simple.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

RODRIGO: Piano Music, Vol. 1

Rodrigo: Concierto in modo galante - Concierto de Estio

RODRIGO Piano Concerto (rev. Achúcarro). Preludio para un poema a la Alhambra. Música para un jardín. Homenaje a la tempranica. Juglares • Max Bragado-Darman, cond; Castile and León SO; Daniel Ligorio Ferrandiz (pn) • NAXOS 8.557101 (60:17)

This is the fourth volume in Naxos’s series of “Complete Orchestral Works” by Rodrigo, but it is the first one to come my way. (I see no record of Volumes 1–3 having been reviewed in Fanfare, either.) My initial impression, though, is that this is yet another worthwhile series from a label that seems determined to leave no work unrecorded.

The glittering Piano Concerto is derived from a 1942 Concierto heroico, also for piano and orchestra. Pianist Joaquín Achúcarro revised the Concierto heroico “to achieve a better balance between the solo instrument and the orchestra, and to avoid some of the original repetitions,” in the words of annotator Enrique Martínez Miura. (Apparently, two “extremely virtuosic” cadenzas have been removed from the Largo too.) The new work was premiered in 1996, three years before Rodrigo’s death. What Rodrigo thought of all this is not indicated here, nor can I comment on the original work, as I have not heard it. I can say that the newer work is an attractive one, colorful to the point of being garish, and dramatic to the point of being hyper-emotional. Rodrigo’s original intention was to reflect on his hometown’s survival of the Spanish Civil War. If most of the Piano Concerto seems more like a marvelous circus than a commentary on war and the human spirit, it is hard to know whether to lay blame at the feet of Rodrigo or Achúcarro. That doesn’t make the work less enjoyable, though.

Música para un jardín (“Music for a Garden”) is Rodrigo’s own orchestration of two piano berceuses from 1935 (one for autumn and one for spring). When he orchestrated it, he added berceuses for the other two seasons, and a brief prelude. The finished work was used in a film documentary about Madrid’s El Retiro Park, but no visual assistance is necessary; this wistful and charming music stands on its own. The life of plants evokes an appropriately innocent response from the composer.

The other three works are less ambitious. Juglares, composed in 1923, was Rodrigo’s first orchestral work. After a brief drum tattoo, there is an attractive Allegro with an appealingly monotonous melody, a passionate slower section, and then a return to the opening section—short and sweet. The gorgeous Preludio para un poema a la Alhambra was written in 1928, while the composer was studying in Paris. The score is headed, “At twilight a guitar sighs, and beyond, almost within the Alhambra, ring out the rhythms that drive the dance.” That Ravel’s influence can be felt in this music is no surprise. Homenaje a la tempranica, from 1939, is another Parisian work, but more typical of the mature Rodrigo. “La tempranica” means “precocious girl,” and it is the name of a popular zarzuela by another composer. This was Rodrigo’s homage to that composer’s work, not to feminine precocity, per se (although the Homenaje was premiered by an all-female orchestra).

None—the conductor, the soloist, the orchestra—is familiar. Nevertheless, I have no complaints about the technical quality or the spirit of the performances. Ferrandiz, in fact, seems like a pianist worth hearing more from. The sound engineers have wrapped this gift with a bright and brilliant ribbon.

Do you like the Concierto de Aranjuez? (Who doesn’t?) Naxos and I ask you, each in our own way, to explore more of Rodrigo’s music. He was most definitely not a “one work” composer!

-- Raymond Tuttle, Fanfare

RODRIGO: Concierto Madrigal / Concierto para una Fiesta (Com

Includes zarzuela(s): excerpt(s) by various composers. Ensembles: Madrid Community Chorus, Madrid Community Orchestra. Conductor: Miguel Roa.

BLASCO DE NEBRA Keyboard Sonatas: Nos. 1– 5; 107–112; in d; in G • Pedro Casals (pn) • NAXOS 8.572068 (76:16)


This is the first of a projected set of three CDs devoted to the extant piano sonatas of Manuel Blasco de Nebra (1750–1784) by pianist and musicologist Pedro Casals. During his short life, Blasco de Nebra is said to have composed some 170 works, though we don’t know in what form nor for what media he wrote. According to Casals’s interesting and informative notes, only 26 keyboard sonatas and six pastorellas are known to survive. Six of the sonatas were apparently published as op. 1, a copy of which is in the Library of Congress. The remainder are known from manuscripts from the Monastery of Montserrat (Catalonia), Encarnación Monastery of Osuna (near Seville), and the Santa Clara Convent (Seville.) Blasco de Nebra was born and died in Seville and, except for two years in Madrid, where his uncle, the zarzuela composer José de Nebra had connections at court, his entire life was spent in the Andalusian city. It may be straddling the fence to call these pieces “keyboard sonatas”: the prominence of Alberti bass figuration alone would seem to argue in favor of the piano. It’s worth noting that one of the more prominent Iberian piano makers, Francisco Pérez Mirabal, flourished in Seville contemporaneously with Blasco de Nebra. Two of Mirabal’s pianos survive. He, like other Iberian makers, had the advantage of basing their instruments on the imported Florentine pianos of Cristofori and Ferrini, unlike Silbermann in Germany, who was forced to experiment on the basis of simplistic published diagrams of the Cristofori action. In any case, it’s obvious from the persuasive performances by Casals (albeit on the modern piano) that Blasco de Nebra’s sonatas are well crafted, often quite beautiful, and never less than effective.


Without being derivative, these pieces bring to mind the Catalan composer, Antonio Soler. Certainly the sonatas of Soler’s master, Domenico Scarlatti, seem a constant point of reference. This recording presents Blasco de Nebra’s sonatas chronologically. The earliest (Nos. 107–112, deriving from the Osuna Encarnación and Santa Clara manuscripts) are cast in single-movement, binary form, like Scarlatti’s. The latest recorded here (Nos. 1–5, from the Montserrat Abbey manuscript) preface each Allegro movement with an extended Adagio. Most of the sonatas unfold in two-part textures; their inventive motivic structure is often triadic and highly ornamented. Blasco de Nebra was active among several organists who played at the cathedral in Seville. It’s not surprising that, in the couple of sonatas that seem to effectively employ tone-painting, church bells are evoked: festal peals in Sonata No. 111, for instance, and in the Adagio of Sonata No 2, somber chimes. Casals brings a rhythmic vitality and crisp touch to his performances, appropriately achieving his varied affects with scarcely any pedal. Given his decision to present the sonatas in the order written, it will be interesting to observe Blasco de Nebra’s stylistic evolution in future releases.


The piano sound (in this case an instrument that could have used a touch-up during the recording) leaves something to be desired, possibly due to overly close microphone placement and a less than resonant space. But the playing is so good and the music so interesting that one quickly forgets the less-than-optimal technical aspects of the recording. Casals’s performances, authoritative and imbued with a love of the music, will no doubt attract greater attention to this little-known but obviously gifted composer. Recommended.


FANFARE: Patrick Rucker

Twentieth-century Spanish composer Jesús Guridi’s Ten Basque melodies are the perfect “pops concert” material--skillfully, colorfully arranged, immediately appealing tunes of varied character, mood, and tempo; catchy, crisp, dancing rhythms in the faster pieces (“Narrativa”; “De ronda”; “Festiva”) and warmly expressive string writing in the slower, more lyrical ones (“Amorosa”; “Elegiaca”); and plenty of splashy, showy moments for the orchestra and principal players, providing more than enough excitement and symphonic revelry to capture and easily hold an audience’s interest for 22 minutes. In one song, “Religiosa”, Guridi’s rich-textured orchestration even attempts the flavor of a pipe organ, undoubtedly a reference to the composer’s work as an organist and organ teacher.


Así cantan los chicos (So the boys sing), is a beautifully imagined work for orchestra and children’s choir that’s “based on Spanish children’s folklore” and employs parts of popular songs among its many memorable themes. The last five or so minutes of this 13-plus-minute piece is an expertly crafted interaction between two choruses (with intermittent interjections by a soloist) that’s reminiscent of some of Benjamin Britten’s similar (if far more clever and sophisticated) conceptions.


Which brings up the point that, interesting and inventive as these works are, it’s impossible to listen to any one of them without being reminded of other composers, from Grieg to Sibelius to Delius to Strauss. Guridi's Don Quixote builds in a Sibelian manner, then briefly tosses some Strauss-like fireworks before returning to a calmer, moodier temper before another burst of Straussian brass flourishes and leaping winds--and so it goes, cramming as many dramatic “scenes” as possible into 11 minutes. It’s actually pretty well done, with especially effective brass and string writing--a definite audience-pleaser for its relentless energy, evocative scene-painting, and roaring, brass-and-timpani-led climax.


The symphonic poem En un barco fenicio (In a Phoenician Vessel) again takes its lead from Sibelius, with effects such as swirling upper strings above grumbling, rumbling low-register instruments, punctuations by brass and winds, and several gradual crescendos that build to powerful (if brief) full-orchestra statements. Although it would help to have more information on just what this “poem” is about, musically speaking the thematic picture at least is finely and colorfully drawn, with--as in the Don Quixote--a logical and captivating flow from one episode to the next, with no let-up in energy or imaginative scoring.


The disc ends with the beautiful little song Canta el gallo tempranero (The early cock is crowing), which is very nicely sung by soprano Isabel Álvarez. Although this may seem rather anticlimactic after the preceding orchestral theatrics, it actually proves a perfect way to wind down, with Álvarez's genial expressive style enhancing and lending an effective personal touch to the song's decidedly Spanish character.


The orchestra obviously knows and cares about this music--and demonstrates a high standard of technical expertise and interpretive flair, led by Juan José Mena with impressive facility and a keen sense of his orchestra's limits. And while Guridi was no Debussy, his orchestrations are not at all shabby--in fact, they're only rarely over-written or cumbersome (as in the "Danza" from Ten Basque melodies). For the most part, this is a terrific and thoroughly entertaining program, a welcome discovery and one of the standouts in Naxos' "Spanish Classics" series. The sound, from the Euskalduna Concert Hall in Bilbao, Spain, is appropriately bright, decently detailed, and well-balanced across the orchestra--with special mention to the brass, which provides some of the program's most thrilling moments.
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

If you like Vaughan Williams' A London Symphony then you're going to just love Guridi's Sinfonía pirenaica ("Pyrenees Symphony"), as robust and colorful a tribute to the Basque country as is the English composer's homage to his most beloved city. Although clearly a somewhat later work stylistically (it was composed in the mid-1940s), you will find a similar mix of modal, folk-like melodies and impressionistic tone-painting. Guridi works on an epic scale here: the piece has three large movements and lasts about 50 minutes. There is no formal slow movement, but plenty of slow music is spread around the other parts, and while it might be a stretch to say that the work is closely argued formally, it is quite effectively shaped, never meanders, and the tunes are beautifully scored and obstinately memorable. In short, the symphony deserves to become a popular work in the Romantic nationalist tradition.


Happily, this performance is outstanding. The Bilbao Symphony premiered the work in 1945, and while I have no idea how familiar the orchestra has remained with the music since that time, the playing here is full of confidence and affection. The solo winds in particular do a lovely job phrasing their often rustic melodies with consistent charm and imagination, and the brass section, which on prior outings has sounded overtaxed, manages a full, rich ensemble sonority that captures the imaginative sweep of Guridi's numerous climaxes. Conductor Juan José Mena seems to know exactly when to push forward and when it's safe to stop and enjoy Guridi's musical scenery. His interpretation is poetic and exciting by turns. Naxos' engineers also deliver very natural sonics, with plenty of bass, atmosphere, warmth, and clarity. The Sword Dance from the opera Amaya (previously recorded and released on Marco Polo) makes a fun if unnecessary encore. Certainly this is one of the most impressive and important releases in Naxos' Spanish Classics series, and I couldn't recommend it more highly.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Granados: Spanish Dances (Orch. Ferrer)

Includes work(s) for piano by Manuel de Falla. Soloist: Daniel Ligorio.