RUSSIAN BALLET FAVOURITES

Rule Britannia: Last Night of the Proms

Few Russian musicians in the second half of the nineteenth century could match the eminence of Anton Rubinstein. As a piano virtuoso he was internationally admired, as a progressive educator he had profound influence, and as a composer he was both significant and successful. The Symphony No 6 in A minor, Op 111 was his last symphony, composed in 1866, and fully revealing those qualities of grace and energy, as well as clever scoring, that make his works so appealing. Don Quixote, described by Tchaikovsky as “very interesting, and perfect in places”, is an inventive and charming musical portrait of Cervantes’ fictional knight. This release completes the reissue of all six Symphonies previously available on Marco Polo.

Rubinstein: Symphony No. 4, 'Dramatic'

Classical Music

Rubinstein: Symphony No. 2, "Ocean"

Classical Music

A. RUBINSTEIN Theme and Variations, op. 88. Akrostichon No. 2, op. 114 • Joseph Banowetz (pn) • NAXOS 8.570941 (73:44)


Joseph Banowetz might easily be thought of as an Anton Rubinstein specialist. He has, after all, recorded all of Rubinstein’s works for piano and orchestra for Naxos’s sister label, Marco Polo, plus four other discs of Rubinstein’s solo piano music. This is a worthy task, for while there is a grand total of some 50 recordings of Rubinstein’s famous Melody in F, very few other works recorded make even two different versions. The sheer dedication of Banowetz is remarkable, and his fine reading of these two works (both world premiere recordings) implies strongly that it is time for a reappraisal of Anton Rubinstein (1829–94). Banowetz is a pianist of some strength—clearly, he is no shrinking violet, anyway, and this robust approach coupled with exemplary finger clarity lends itself superbly to this repertoire.


The Theme and Variations, op. 88, dates from 1871 and lasts some 47 minutes in this performance. It is therefore a major work, and Banowetz certainly treats it as such. His respect for Rubinstein’s talent is evident in every measure he plays. The music itself might well come as something of a revelation, for the invention flows confidently and appealingly from Rubinstein’s pen. Moments of mystery are honored (try the recitative-like ruminations of the fifth variation). Most importantly, Banowetz provides just the right amount of fantasy. The range of the variations is wide, moving from Schumannesque innigkeit (variation 7) to Handelian grandeur viewed through a decidedly romantic telescope (the very next variation). The climax is formed by the 12th and final variation, lasting some 10 minutes. Banowetz whips the music up to a fulfilling, summatory statement. The recording is a trifle shallow and dry, perhaps, but the ear adjusts quickly.


The Akrostichon , op. 2, of 1890, stands in stark contrast. A set of five salon pieces (which together add up in duration to around 27 minutes), the op. 2 counterbalances the Theme and Variations perfectly. There is a spring-like freshness to the second (Allegretto) that is most appealing. All five pieces make for compelling listening, not least the individual, evocative solo lines of the fourth piece (Adagio).


This constitutes Volume 1 of what is presumably intended to be a complete edition of Rubinstein’s piano works, and I note that ArkivMusic is already listing (and highlighting, at the time of writing) Volume 2 (which contains Akrostichon No. 1; Two Pieces, op. 26; Souvenir de Dresde , op. 118; Two Melodies, op. 3; and the Sérénade russe in B Minor). I hope to hear the next installment in due course; in the meantime, Volume 1 provides ample cause for celebration.


FANFARE: Colin Clarke

Edmund Rubbra (1901?1986) waited a long time for the recognition that was his due. Although he found his voice and manner by the late 1930s, securing occasional performances and radio broadcasts of quality, it wasn?t until the 1970s that many of his symphonies achieved their premieres on LP?and the first recorded edition of his 11 symphonies had to wait until 2001. Many reasons have been attested for this neglect over the years, but the most convincing argument I?ve read is that he was too complex and ?un-English? for the old guard, while remaining far too conservative tonally and structurally for the Young Turks of the period.


Rubbra?s style certainly would fit into this uneasy zone that lay outside the accepted boundaries of the conventional and the conventionally unconventional. There is a curious amalgam in his compositions of Sibelian transformative development with complex, linear textures, and vocally inflected thematic lines that derive from Renaissance polyphony. Even more than Vaughan Williams, Rubbra frequently envisioned his more ambitious works as reactions to a moral battleground; and the length of his religious convictions can be taken by noting his conversion to Roman Catholicism in 1948. But although Rubbra used a musical language that was determinedly consonant and tonal, it didn?t possess any of the trappings of the folk nationalist school. When members of the avant-garde were latching onto the latest techniques to prove their individuality, Rubbra made good, traditional music, yet sounded like no one at any time save himself.


The Violin Concerto of 1959 is an excellent example of this. The allegro ?s uneasy thematic line is characteristic, as is its grave sweetness, delicate orchestration, and propulsive rhythms. The slow movement is among the most beautiful things ever penned by this composer who had little regard for surface beauty?an intensely meditative study that ranges between serenity and lyrical exaltation. As for the allegro giacoso that rounds off this work, extroverted finales were never that difficult for Rubbra. Unlike Lloyd and Finzi, he never sought to conclude anything composed in a serious manner and elegiac tone with a forced ?jolly celebration.? His finale here is on the minor side of several modes, but with bounding rhythms and brief, figurative allusions to folk drones (so very much like Rubbra?s favorite symphonic pedal points). The effect is not unlike Baroque dances in minor keys, exhilarating and with a twinkle in the eye that belies the grim set of the mouth.


The Improvisation for Violin and Orchestra was originally a Fantasia composed in the mid 1930s, then substantially recomposed in 1956 for a commission by the Louisville Orchestra. The lengthy, plaintive solo for violin with only occasional ominous rumblings from the timpani set the basic tone for the piece, whose ruminations cover the ground from self-lacerating doubt to momentary epiphany. Like the Violin Concerto?s slow movement, this Improvisation is a seemingly spontaneous but carefully wrought work.


The third composition on the program represents a departure, not only from the rest of the album, but from most of the composer?s ?uvre . I first encountered the Improvisation on Virginal Pieces by Giles Farnaby 30 years ago on a British RCA LP, where Rubbra wrote that a lighthearted piece was sought by Universal Edition to offset the cost of engraving and printing his First Symphony. (The LP was part of a series underwritten by Harveys of Bristol, manufacturers of Harveys Bristol Cream. Anyone want to suggest to Peter Coors that he sponsor a new recorded series of the works of William Schuman?) The result was this work, wherein Rubbra re-orchestrated and lightly but amusingly retouched five of Farnaby?s delightfully folk-inflected keyboard pieces. It?s a charmer.


Yuasa takes a relaxed but firm hand to all three pieces; too relaxed, perhaps, in the Violin Concerto?s opening movement, compared to a now-deleted Unicorn LP that featured David Measham leading the Melbourne SO, with soloist Carl Pini. I?ve never enjoyed Pini?s acidulous if bracing tone, but that same movement took roughly two minutes less on that release, and gained in the process. Elsewhere, Yuasa articulates the many lines of the finale so well that he conveys a sense of blithe activity without great speed. The slow movement and the Improvisation for Violin and Orchestra benefit from his considered approach. Osostowicz displays a warm tone, seamless legato, strong technique, and commanding personality. The Farnaby pieces could use more energy, but focus is never lacking, and Schönzeler did worse on my old LP. The Ulster Orchestra is bright, rich, and well blended, but that?s hardly news.


Sound is forward and effectively balanced, while Malcolm MacDonald supplies attractive liner notes. The timings are a bit slim, but with performances and music such as we find here, offered at a budget price, who can complain? Definitely recommended.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

Back in my college days my music-loving friends and I would amuse ourselves perusing the letters section of Gramophone magazine, and every so often a desperately worded appeal would turn up, lamenting the "dearth of Rubbra symphony recordings." Now it wasn't as if people were lining up for Rubbra symphonies the way they lined up for the launch of, say, the I-Pod, but if the orchestral works weren't exactly thick on the field, the quartets never even made it to the letters section at all (that I noticed). Perhaps they should have; they are fine, if imperfect works.

Rubbra should have been a "natural" for the quartet medium: a gifted contrapuntist and a composer of great seriousness, even nobility, this would seem to be just his cup of tea. However, as with the symphonies, Rubbra's ability to construct his first movements and adagios effectively (and often quite beautifully here) is compromised by his helplessness with finales. His feeling for music was rhetorical rather than dramatic, and in Quartets Nos. 1 and 3 the last movements (of three) disappoint, with the former's being too short and the latter's too light. In the Fourth quartet, which has only two movements, Rubbra wisely says "the heck with it" and places the adagio last.

The Maggini Quartet has made many excellent recordings of the English quartet repertoire for Naxos, and this one is no exception. They bring plenty of expressive intensity to those heartfelt adagios, and phrase Rubbra's intertwining contrapuntal lines with winning clarity, while avoiding excessive density. The engineering is also very good: unobtrusive and natural. This music is well worth getting to know, even if Rubbra's relentless earnestness sometimes seems to overwhelm his inspiration.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Richard Strauss' solo piano music dates from his teen years. Although the style often is derivative (warmed-over Mendelssohn, Weber, and Schumann) you can't deny the budding composer's assured, fluent, and utterly professional technique, along with his vibrant musicality and idiomatic keyboard grasp. You rarely encounter these works in concert, yet they're surprisingly well served on disc. Three diversely excellent "complete" cycles from Oleg Marshev (Danacord), Frank Braley (Harmonia Mundi), and Stefan Vladar (Koch Schwann) bear this out, not to mention Glenn Gould's recordings of the Op. 3 pieces and the B minor sonata. Naxos' Stefan Veselka acquits himself very well in such company. For example, his rounded phrasing and plush sonorities in the Op. 3 and Op. 9 cycles contrast to Braley's leaner, more transparent profile (you might say that Veselka is Arrau to Braley's Richter). He matches the robust qualities of Vladar's Sonata with added propulsion in the outer movements and bests Marshev's Scherzo movement for scintillation and suppleness. What's more, Naxos' modest price and fine sonics make this attractive release all the more recommendable.--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Fine lyrical playing with aggressive virtuosity. Works of great merit that are deserving of a wider audience. Play this one next to Brahms' genre counterparts for an interesting comparison.

Miklos Rózsa arrived in Hollywood in 1940 after study in Leipzig and a stint in Paris where Arthur Honegger encouraged him to compose music for films. In California he found a strong community of expatriate composers including Stravinsky, Schoenberg and Korngold, and some of the finest instrumental soloists then active, including Heifetz, Rubinstein and Piatigorsky. By the time he renewed his contract with MGM in 1952, his reputation was such that he was able to demand an unprecedented three months off per year to compose concert music. The first fruits of this arrangement came in the form of a violin concerto, written for Jascha Heifetz. Although the work was completed in the summer of 1952, Heifetz would not play the premiere until 1956 in Dallas. Enthusiastically received, it would soon be recorded by RCA, and this recording was to remain alone in the catalogue for nearly forty years.

Unlike the concerto by his colleague Erich Wolfgang Korngold - also written for Heifetz - Rózsa’s work is far more harmonically adventuresome, though not without considerable episodes of soaring lyricism, particularly in the elegant and airy second movement. Korngold, whose music tended toward an ultra-romanticism à la Richard Strauss, eschewed some of the tangier dissonances employed by Rózsa. One can perhaps attribute the difference in style to the fact that Rózsa grew up in Hungary, whose folk music tradition was considerably more rustic than that of Korngold’s Vienna. Regardless of his sources, Rózsa creates an austere, almost wintry landscape with his music, music that is tautly composed, carefully structured and gracefully assembled. Even in the rather aggressive and stark final movement, Rózsa spins one colorful melody after and other around a punchy and rhythmic accompaniment long on brass interjections and percussive effects from all sections of the orchestra, drums included.

Anastasia Khitruk is an able successor to Heifetz, exhibiting both ample virtuosity and a warm singing tone that is both thrilling and engaging. She plays passionately and yet always in firm control over her emotions, bring the listener often to the edge of his chair without ever dumping him on the floor. Dmitry Yablonsky leads a finely tuned and rhythmically precise Russian Philharmonic Orchestra. The refined brass playing, not often a hallmark of Russian orchestras is not only refreshing but highly exhilarating. Balance between soloist and orchestra is fine, and the recording has the perfect combination of rich tone and clarity.

The composer’s experience with his Sinfonia Concertante was not nearly as happy. Originally proposed by Piatigorsky, the completed work was considered unsatisfactory by the performers - particularly Heifetz - and the two dedicatees played only a considerably reworked second movement. The work would not see a full performance until some time later in Chicago, where it was deemed over-long and again met with a number of revisions before reaching the form that is heard in this recording.

Considerably richer in texture than the violin concerto, the composer’s Hungarian roots are very evident in the melodies with their angular rhythms and acerbic harmonies. One can almost taste the goulash in the wonderfully pungent theme and variations, and yet, when the music needs a moment of repose, Rózsa weaves in a lush romantic theme worthy of any of his film scores. The work concludes with a heavy brass and percussion laden finale, set out in contrast to the fleet passage work of the soloists.

Ms. Khitruk is joined by an able and expressive partner in Andrey Tchekmazov whose thick-fingered tone and versatile range of expression serve the music well. There is a good deal of audible sniffing and snorting from the soloist(s) in this work that is not present in the Violin Concerto, a habit that this writer has always found unnecessary, distracting and indeed downright annoying. Mr. Yablonsky delivers the same kind of tight ensemble playing, coupled with a warm unified string sound that he gave in the Violin Concerto.

To summarize, these are works of high artistic merit and one can hope that they will appear more often in the concert halls of the world, particularly the violin concerto.

-- Kevin Sutton, MusicWeb International

Miklós Rózsa's Viola Concerto is a masterpiece, certainly one of the finest solo and orchestra pieces ever conceived for the instrument. Written in four ample movements, richly orchestrated (as you might expect) and just as rich in contrast and tuneful appeal, it's also impressive for Rózsa's sure handling of form in the large (14-minute) initial Moderato assai. Aside from a touch of shaky ensemble in the middle of the finale, the performance here is excellent, with Gilad Karni a splendidly warm and full-throated soloist. He's all the more impressive for being somewhat dryly recorded, but this isn't a serious issue. The Viola Concerto has been recorded previously, most notably for Koch, but this version is every bit as good.

The Hungarian Serenade is a charmer in the form of five "character pieces"--a march, serenata, scherzo, notturno, and final danza. Rózsa never really needed the moniker "Hungarian", since all of his music sounds recognizably ethnic, even his score to Ben Hur. Once again the performance is lovely, relaxed but never rhythmically slack--just allowing us time to savor the work's spicy harmonies and vivid instrumental color. An easy recommendation, this, and a welcome boost to the growing recognition that Rózsa's concert music surely deserves.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This third Naxos album of Rózsa’s concert works presents music strongly reflective of the composer’s Hungarian roots. In the Rhapsody for Cello, Hungarian melodic contours and themes can be clearly heard as the music changes speed with almost dizzyng speed. Hungarian Sketches is notable for the nocturnal evocation of the countryside in the Pastorale, which is followed by a peasant dance. The events of the 1956 Hungarian uprising had a bearing on the character of Rózsa’s turbulent and angst-filled Concert Overture. The impressionistic Notturno ungherese of 1963 opens with an evocation of the Hungarian countryside at sunset. Mark Kosower, the newly appointed principal cello of the Cleveland Orchestra, has already made one outstanding recording of Hungarian music for cello and piano for Naxos (8.570570).

Though Miklós Rózsa became one of the most admired of film composers, he had always written music in other forms and his two published string quartets reveal important facets of his musical background. String Quartet No 1 was written in 1950 when he was under contract with M-G-M and, with its nocturnal and folk-dance imagery, is redolent of his Hungarian youth. String Quartet No 2 is prophetic of his later sparer style, though it too is infused with great energy and high drama. The String Trio, Op 1, recorded for the first time in its original 1929 published version, abounds with youthful vitality.