These performances are also available on video, Naxos Laserdisc Classics NX 3-110056.

Petri Sakari knows this music, obviously loves it, and paces it to perfection. Indeed, his performance of The Bard may just be the finest available, particularly in the work's latter stages and final climax. The dark timbres of the lower winds--bass clarinet and bassoon particularly--not only add immeasurably to the atmosphere that colors the opening of Pohjola's Daughter, but also help to create the deep currents of The Oceanides and overshadow the pine forests of Tapiola. The Iceland Symphony Orchestra plays with complete security, and Sakari ensures that textures and balances retain the necessary transparency without sacrificing power. Indeed, the all-important bass drum part in En Saga seldom has registered with such dynamic accuracy (though as with all of these Naxos productions, make sure to turn the volume up to enjoy the best sound).


That said, there is one big fly in this particular musical ointment. The Iceland orchestra has a comparatively small string section, and while this fact certainly contributes to the clarity noted above, it robs the climaxes of sheer heft. This is particularly true during the headlong rush to the big cymbal crash in En Saga, the huge final wave in The Oceanides, and above all the great storm music in Tapiola. To his credit, Sakari doesn't push his players beyond their natural ability. For example, in Tapiola he cleverly ensures that the storm remains a background to the ferocious eruptions in the brass and timpani, but it's still impossible not to feel the lack in those moments (such as the ensuing dissonant shriek) where a big string sound is absolutely essential.


So is this disc recommendable? Certainly it is. But if you are one of those people whose preferences in this music demand Karajan's Berlin Philharmonic strings, you might be happier elsewhere. Still, there's far too much worth hearing to dismiss this issue for that reason alone. Sakari and his players capture the music's dark colors and primal qualities as do few others, and when all is said and done they offer a quintessentially Sibelian listening experience.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

SIBELIUS: Symphonies Nos. 4 and 5

It's amazing how late Sibelius, often regarded as enigmatic or for specialists only, has come into fashion in recent years. Complete symphony cycles have proliferated, and with them superb performances of the last two works, most recently by Paavo Berglund on Finlandia and Osmo Vänskä on BIS. We're even beginning to see live performances again after decades of comparative neglect. Petri Sakari's Sibelius cycle with the Iceland Symphony Orchestra concludes with this outstanding release, and like the conductors mentioned above, he's actually gotten better as he's approached the end of his musical journey.


The reasons for this aren't that hard to fathom. The first two symphonies work best when given the sort of high-powered Romantic approach more typical, say, of Tchaikovsky, while the later ones respond sympathetically to a more chiseled, "classically" restrained hand, and can sound particularly fine when played by a smallish orchestra such as Berglund's Chamber Orchestra of Europe, Vänskä's Lahti Symphony, or Sakari's Icelanders. In all three cases, the reduced size of the string sections permits ideal balances with the excellent winds and brass, and automatically gives the music the transparency of texture that it needs. This benefits even the comparatively heavily scored Fifth Symphony, at least when compared to the first two.


Of course, none of this would matter in the least if the conductor doesn't know his way around the music, and Sakari certainly does. His performance of the Sixth, perhaps Sibelius' supreme masterpiece in the genre, gets all the details right. The strings play eloquently and in tune, the crucial writing for harp and bass clarinet comes across clearly and without undue spotlighting, and Sakari's tempos, while on the slow side, reveal a keen understanding of the correct proportions. Most importantly, he executes transitions perfectly. Listen to how naturally the "Poco con moto" final section of the slow movement arises from the initial tempo, or best of all, the bridge passage from the finale's Allegro molto to Allegro assai for the last, valedictory statement of the principal theme on the strings. True, in order to hear a real "Allegro assai" you'll have to go with Bernstein (practically the only conductor who takes Sibelius at his word here); nevertheless, when heard in context with such fine playing, Sakari's interpretation works just fine. He also knows exactly where the symphony's single dynamic climax lies: letter J in the finale, where his triple forte really does expose the iron fist hidden within Sibelius' silken glove.


Symphony No. 7 is, if anything, even more impressive. The opening rising gesture, broadly conceived, really "launches" the music, and once again Sakari's sense of timing impresses. He gives that thrilling wind sequence over deep string tremolos (anyone who loves this work will know the exact spot) plenty of breadth, moving forward as the great string hymn begins and gathers strength like some great river current. He prepares the entry of the principal trombone theme as well as anyone, and the recording gets the balances exactly right: clear and majestic playing from the brass, but imbedded in a luminous aura of strings and winds. The transitions from this moment through the various, quicker episodes that ultimately lead to the central pastoral section all proceed with organic inevitability. One of Sakari's greatest achievements lies in his satisfying way with Sibelius' often abrupt endings. Both in the Sixth and Seventh Symphonies, there's no feeling, as there so often is in other performances, of the composer simply giving up and saying "Okay, stop," with a sort of musical shrug. In fact, I've never heard the closing bars of the Sixth's first two movements done better, and the Seventh's last page offers a satisfying sense of serene fulfillment.


As a bonus, the Second Suite from The Tempest shows off the very well trained Iceland strings to excellent effect, and sonically this release might well be the best in the series. Play it a little louder than you normally do other recordings, and everything snaps into focus. At Naxos' price, this disc represents a genuine bargain. No one who loves this music should miss it.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

These are excellent performances of their type: extremely clear, flowing, with great attention paid to details of string phrasing and articulation (critical in this music). They come close to Paavo Berglund's last cycle, with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe, though with a touch more atmosphere. The opening of the Fourth symphony typifies the approach: chords balanced so as to emphasize the grinding dissonances (as also in the "swan" theme for the horns in the Fifth's finale), and remarkably audible textural layering. It gives the music a very modern feel, the romantic elements decidedly downplayed.

Of course, there is a price. Climaxes tend to be underwhelming. The big central crescendo in the finale of the Fourth fails to impress; neither does the climactic transition between the two halves of the Fifth symphony's first movement. Still, Pietari Inkinen's emphasis on lucidity gives the music a contrapuntal interest you might not have suspected that it had, and that compensates for the lack of sheer power. Such is the case in the Fourth's tragic collapse, while the finale of the Fifth really does achieve maximum force only at the very end. Most importantly, the performances have flow--try the Fourth's Tempo largo: very slow, but remarkably coherent and purposefully shaped.

The New Zealand Symphony plays very well throughout. The woodwinds distinguish themselves, and as previously mentioned, the string playing is impressively "Sibelian". Even the endless tremolos have meaning and character. The sonics aren't bad, but to the extent that the low end becomes a bit muddy and boomy in loud passages, it works against the interpretations. This seems to be a function of the venue. In sum, these are distinctive performances that Sibelians will surely enjoy hearing.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

No, it’s not the title of new horror flick. Swanwhite and The Lizard remain two of Sibelius least known incidental scores, here played in their complete original versions. As is often the case with these works, the suite that Sibelius made from his Swanwhite music is far more satisfying then the original score. The augmented orchestration for the suite, especially the important part for harp, adds tremendously to the music’s appeal, especially in a piece where that instrument gets mentioned all over the place but had to be left out of the theatrical version for reasons of economy (the original used only thirteen instruments, but the strings are intelligently padded even here). Still, there are plenty of extended bits as initially conceived and the music itself is really, really lovely.

Sibelius never made a suite out of The Lizard, and for good reason. It would have been nearly impossible. The score consists of two movements: a three-minute Adagio followed by a twenty-two minute Grave, both scored for strings. There’s very little actual music here: it’s all atmosphere and repetition of brief melodic patterns. It is, in short, background music, probably perfect for its intended use, and pretty good at home too if you need something moody that never forces you to pay attention. And as always with Sibelius’ string writing, Segerstam’s performance is gorgeous. It’s not often recalled that Segerstam was himself a violinist of considerable ability in his youth, and he pays a great deal of attention to the orchestral string sections in all of his recordings, to excellent effect.

A Lonely Ski Trail and The Countess’ Portrait are both poetic recitations for narrator and strings. I truly loathe spoken text over music, but Riho Eklundh has a very pleasant, mellow voice, and I find Swedish fun to listen to because it sounds like it ought to be in English but, obviously, it isn’t and you’re left wondering why what you are hearing makes no sense. For example, the opening line of A Lonely Ski Trail, “Ett ensamt skidspar” (with a little circle thing over the “a” in “skidspar”), sounds just like someone saying in English “And in some cheap sport.” It’s fun. So is this beautifully played and recorded ongoing series more generally.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Leif Segerstam directs all this material with unhurried authority, abundant perception and heaps of character. Likewise, his willing Turku colleagues are with him every step of the way. Admirable production values and useful notes, too. A job well done.

- Gramophone Magazine

Naxos’s program of Scandinavian violin concertos represents both night and day in the works of former violinists and composers Jean Sibelius and Christian Sinding. Sibelius’s rhapsodic concerto bears the impress of the young man who improvised on the violin in the craggy fastnesses of his native country; Sinding’s (the first, from 1898, of three) pays tribute to the late Romantic virtuoso tradition, with the soloist’s opening gesture curiously suggestive of a finale theme from Bruch’s First Concerto. If Sibelius’s dimly lit Serenade and Sinding’s expansively cinematic Romance (there’s a touch of the cinematic in the concerto as well, although both works antedated the era) don’t suggest night and day, they make almost as strong a contrast. Henning Kraggerud plays with great virtuosity in Sibelius’s violinistic magnum opus, and the recorded sound, though balanced, captures even the snap of his bow in the inky vortex of the first movement’s swirling passagework. His tone on the 1744 Ole Bull Guarneri del Gesù, lent to him for this recording, sounds as runically eldritch as Sibelius’s music itself. Kraggerud makes the most of this sinuousness, playing the second movement’s sinking double stops moodily rather than ecstatically. He affects the same mysterioso in the recitative-like sections of Sibelius’s Serenade. Sinding’s concerto, on the other hand, turns out, as its opening foreshadows, to be an extroverted romp (although the slow movement provides its share of somber, resonant musing); and as the music’s tension relaxes, so does the edge on Kraggerud’s virtuosity (he seems more at home in the danse macabre than in the tantoli). But he’s ardently songful in Sinding’s Romance from 1910, of which this recording’s proclaimed by its label to be the first. Bjarte Engeset and the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra provide a sonorous and allusive (and appropriately abrupt, where necessary) backdrop to Kraggerud’s dark divagations in Sibelius’s works and a lush romantic one for his more extroverted gambols in Sinding’s.

Kraggerud faces Olympian competition in Sibelius’s concerto, but his dark-hued yet brilliant reading compares favorably on its own terms with Heifetz’s cold light or Vengerov’s highly personalized meanderings. He has Sinding’s works pretty much to himself. The release can therefore be recommended all round: a strongly competitive, eerie Sibelius concerto, a Serenade that, while it may not match Mutter’s languid yearning (Deutsche Grammophon 447-895-2), provides the requisite subdued colors in its less histrionic way, and two unfamiliar works by Sinding.

Robert Maxham, FANFARE

Includes work(s) by Jean Sibelius. Ensemble: New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. Conductor: Pietari Inkinen.

SIBELIUS: Piano Music, Vol. 2

SIBELIUS: Piano Music, Vol. 1

Volume Five in Naxos' complete Sibelius piano music cycle is given over to miniatures, most of which fall within modest technical and registral parameters. Although they were intended for home consumption by amateur pianists, a sensitive and imaginative professional like Håvard Gimse can really make these pieces sound vital and characterful. He does marvelous things. For instance, his angular, push/pull rubato in the Impromptu (Op. 99 No. 4) and varied phrasing of No. 12's dotted rhythms underline the music's superficial resemblance to Schumann. The controlled vehemence he brings to the five Op. 101 pieces admirably downplays their sometimes-mawkish melodic invention. And Gimse is fully attuned to the quirky harmonic twists and turns permeating Op. 103 and 114 (these sets might be described as chips off the blocks that fashioned the composer's Sixth and Seventh Symphonies). In short, collectors who've acquired previous volumes of this excellent series need no further recommendation. --Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Sibelius may not have written the flashiest piano music of his time, yet the stark beauty of his mature harmonic language and instinct for effective keyboard deployment (which certainly developed as he progressed) characterize each and every work on this disc. As with previous volumes in this series, pianist Håvard Gimse imbues these pieces with all the color, dynamic range, technical control, insight, and tender loving care he can muster, and there's much to savor despite this collection's anonymous-sounding titles.


In particular, the collections of Op. 75 and 85, subtitled "The Trees" and "The Flowers", are appealingly nature-inspired, and Gimse wrings every drop of poetry from their often unassuming outward appearance. And that's saying a lot, since Gimse is one of the most cultivated, musicianly pianists on the scene. Top class sonics and fine annotations further enhance my recommendation. If you've been collecting Naxos' Sibelius piano music cycle, you'll want this disc as a matter of course.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

No sooner had Sibelius moved to the town of Järvenpää in 1904 than he was commissioned by the Swedish Theatre to write incidental music for Maeterlinck’s Pelléas et Mélisande. At the time it was his most ambitious undertaking in the genre of incidental music and his setting included ten scenes, only one of which was cut when he adapted the piece as a concert suite. Dating from the same year, Musik zu einer Szene was originally intended to accompany a tableau and is full of striking contrasts. The two waltzes of 1921 are transcriptions of piano pieces, and reveal the potent influence of Tchaikovsky.

"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

Sibelius never made a suite out of his incidental music to Hofmannsthal’s Jedermann (Everyman), and for good reason. There’s nothing here that works independently of the play. The individual tracks range in timing from eleven seconds to thirteen minutes. There are four tiny initial movements, a series of songs requiring three soloists (soprano, tenor, and bass), a brief Allegro molto, and then a whopping sequence nearly half an hour long.

Much of the music is athematic, and aside from being exceptionally slow it’s also exceptionally repetitious. You could make the case that Sibelius is anticipating much contemporary music–Arvo Pärt at his droopiest has nothing on this – but what would be the point? And it has to be said that Segerstam and his Turku players make a meal of it. The performance is gorgeous, unflinchingly dark and anguished, and if you’re going to do it at all you might as well revel to the max in the music’s wrist-slitting despondency.

The couplings are particularly well chosen. The Two Serious Melodies, Op. 77, for violin and orchestra, are lovely, virtually unknown, and positively riotous after Jedermann. In memoriam is a funeral march inspired by the more lugubrious music of Liszt, and it too sounds almost uplifting here despite Segerstam’s measured tempo. It was smart of Naxos and Segerstam to find all of Sibelius’ most miserable music and stick it on one convenient CD, with wonderfully apt cover art so that you know exactly what you’re in for. If you feel depressed, your life is a mess, and you’re sunk in an abyss of despair, by all means try this disc. It will convince you that you have a long way to go before you hit bottom.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Segerstam's often daringly spacious conception absorbingly complements Vanska's splendid Lahti accont - diehard Sibelians will, I fancy, want to have both - while Turku PO member Mikaela Palmu responds with big-hearted dedication in the lovely Two Serious Melodies for violin and orchestra.

- Gramophone