Featuring over 7 centuries of beautiful and sublime pieces from Bach, Mozart, Part, Tallis, Tavener, Beethoven, Barber, Charpentier, Rutter and more. The pieces cover all phases of the life, death and resurrection of Christ, making it the perfect music for any Christian holiday and easy listening year-round.

It's hard to believe that Carl Reinecke lived until 1910 (he was born in 1824), writing these two works for flute just a couple of years before his death. Musically speaking he never ventured beyond Mendelssohn and Schumann, but from our vantage point nearly a century later that hardly matters. Without doubt he was a master craftsman, and his Harp Concerto quite possibly is the finest in the repertoire for the instrument. It's beautifully played here by Fabrice Pierre, with refulgent tone, plenty of lively character, and an excellent accompaniment from the Swedish Chamber Orchestra under Patrick Gallois. The Finale-Scherzo is particularly delicious. Pierre takes over the conductor's job for the two flute pieces, which are equally charming and puzzlingly neglected on disc. Gallois certainly has the chops, or should I say "the lips" for them, although his tone is a touch breathier than I prefer. Still, with fine sonics, and at a very attractive price, this disc is a winner.--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

REGER Symphonic Fantasia and Fugue, op. 57, “Inferno.” Pieces for Organ, op. 145 • Edgar Krapp (org) • NAXOS 8.557891 (69:09)


The Symphonic Fantasia and Fugue opens with a violent fury, building to a quick climax, punctuated by chords and keyboard runs before diminishing into a calm meditation—all within the first minute. Throughout this 10-minute Fantasia, the music swells and diminishes, from climax to serenity. Edgar Krapp brings this off superbly. Max Reger considered his op. 57 the most difficult music he ever wrote, but Krapp never breaks a sweat. He has mastered this music and knows every nuance. He lets all the stops out in the Passau Cathedral in Eisenbarth, Germany, making no apologies for the intensity or force of the music. At times he seems carried away in a kind of divine madness, reveling in every decibel. The effect is exciting and dramatic. But the Fugue has a different character, and is not as successful, hampered by Reger’s penchant for thick writing. In the Fantasia (and throughout most of this recording), the sound captured by the Naxos engineers is vivid, clear, and even spectacular. But the Fugue is a little muddled. Yet every climax is captured superbly; Reger—and Krapp—emerge in triumph as if through the clouds. This is a mighty work that deserves to be heard more often.


Reger wrote his seven organ pieces in 1915–16, in the midst of World War I. These pieces are dedicated to key moments in the liturgical year; yet the war clearly lingered in Reger’s mind as he wrote. One senses sadness during the first piece, which was dedicated to those who died in battle. The second piece is a psalm of thanks, titled, “What God does, that is well done.” Dedicated to the German people, this too has dark moments and builds to a treatment of the familiar hymn, Praise to the Lord the Almighty . As this title indicates, there is a sense of recognition of God’s sovereignty at a time of war. But even in moments of triumph, there is a haunting touch of uncertainty. This is great music.


The piece focuses on Christmas, and Reger incorporates familiar choruses, including Silent Night . This, too, has a dark hue; everything is not quite so “calm and bright.” The fourth part focuses on the passion of Christ. The fifth celebrates his resurrection with a form much more like a chorale. The sixth celebrates the Holy Ghost. Fleet keyboard runs are woven into a strong, declaratory conclusion. The seventh is a victory celebration, highlighted by Reger’s adaptation of the hymn, Now thank we all our God (with Deutschland, Deutschland über alles ringing in the pedals). Some may feel that this uncomfortably mixes politics with music, but this did not bother me, and I found it to be stirring music, and highly enjoyable.


This is Volume 7 in the Naxos collection of the organ music of Reger, and the first that features Krapp. All of the recordings in this series that I have heard have been outstanding. This one is too. Highly recommended.


FANFARE: John E. Roos

While Max Reger's A minor String Trio and D minor Piano Quartet offer little in the way of truly memorable tunes, their restless harmonic density consistently holds your attention and keeps you guessing. The Aperto players favor the musical equivalent of broad-brush strokes in the Trio by way of frequent dynamic swells and emphatic inflections of phrase. This creates a diverse and intensified tonal palette that wonderfully suits the slow movement's overcast mood and spacious time scale, as well as emphasizing the Allegro con moto finale's frequently unpredictable modulations. Yet the latter movement benefits more from the Manheimmer Quartet members' lighter, suppler bow work and greater expressive economy. Similarly, the Aperto's slower, earthier Scherzo significantly differs from the Mannheimer's brisk, conversational interpretation.

Close-up engineering underlines the big D minor Piano Quartet's symphonic dimensions, as well as creating a kind of aural fatigue that allows little textural variety. Moreover, the ensemble's frequent ritards at cadences (in addition to those that Reger indicates) impedes the outer movements' flow. This does not take anything away from each musician's obvious mastery, to say nothing of the physical and psychic stamina needed to get through any major Reger opus all in one piece. As such, Reger fans will welcome a chance to sample, and perhaps savor, these fascinating, seldom-heard works.

--Jed Distler, ClassisToday.com

Includes work(s) by various composers. Ensembles: Soviet Red Army Chorus, Red Army Band. Conductor: Victor Fedorov.

The liner notes of this release compare Alan Rawsthorne (1905–1971) to Brahms in that both composers left their first symphonies until relatively late in life. This implies that Rawsthorne was a meticulous craftsman, which is true, but also that he was awed as Brahms was by the idea of creating a post-Beethoven symphony, for which there is little evidence. In Rawsthorne’s case, a First Symphony was delayed until the composer was 45 because he came late to his trade. He was initially drawn to dentistry, and then to architecture. Rawsthorne was 20 when he entered the Manchester College of Music, and the fact that he afterwards continued his piano studies abroad with the great Egon Petri points to possible attempts at a pedagogic career, or on the concert stage. He returned to Britain in 1932, and moved to London at the age of 30—finally, with the intention of devoting himself to composition.

Rawsthorne’s Symphony No. 1 received its premiere in 1950 after a succession of orchestral works of merit: the Symphonic Studies (1938), the Piano Concerto No. 1 (1942), the Violin Concerto No. 1 (1948), and the Concerto for String Orchestra (1949). The work was hailed in print as “a major event in English musical life,” but had to wait 25 years for its first recording. It is a dense, knotty effort of great seriousness, typical of this composer in its avoidance of flamboyant rhetoric. His Symphony No. 2, subtitled “A Pastoral Symphony,” appeared in 1959: a work of greater transparency and less harmonic ambiguity than the First, with an especially beautiful slow movement and a Puckishly witty scherzo that brings Roussel to mind. The Third Symphony of 1964 is as grim, complex, and harmonically acerbic as the First, but within a less emotionally ambivalent setting, and one that employs more of the tension-release pattern of traditional symphonic development.

Rawsthorne’s style is out of Hindemith, pursuing polytonal pathways through the use of motto themes often presented in different keys, simultaneously. This gives him considerable flexibility of harmonic movement, though the unfluctuating textural intensity of the First Symphony creates an air of stasis. The lighter, more malleable Second is an exceedingly attractive piece, however, while the Third Symphony can be viewed as the First reconsidered from a higher, more experienced vantage point. Through all three works runs a sense of granitic integrity and consummate craft. Rawsthorne can certainly produce an ear-bending tune. His Second Symphony has several memorable ones. But he never relies upon a good melody to carry the weight of his musical argument, and he’s almost certain to put that melody to good contrapuntal use before he’s finished with it.

All three works were last recorded in the late 1970s and released on LP in excellent sound. Those analog performances (with the London Philharmonic in the first two symphonies and the BBC SO, led by Pritchard, Braithwaite, and Del Mar, respectively) were in turn gathered onto Lyrita SRCD291, a recording that may still be found with some foreign distributors. They are attractive readings, with Braithwaite’s Second arguably the best: a finely lyrical performance from an underrated conductor. Yet, all three readings are surpassed by David Lloyd-Jones on this new release. He emphasizes lucid textures and a proper balance of Rawsthorne’s multiple lines. This strengthens the angularity and unsettled quality in the music, giving even the congested First a sense of direction and purpose. The clarity of the digital engineering helps greatly, and the playing of the Bournemouth Symphony is first-rate. This is definitely the album to buy, with a respectful tip of the hat to Naxos for adding it to a fine series on a neglected modern master.

Barry Brenesal, FANFARE

Naxos has been doing Alan Rawsthorne (1905–1971) proud. An English composer who might have become a dentist, and who studied the piano with Egon Petri in Poland and Germany, Rawsthorne’s music is gritty, concentrated, and very communicative in its edge.

The two violinists of the Maggini Quartet give a very assured account of Theme and Variations (1937), spellbinding music of wide range: lyrical, intense, fiery, and mercurial. Rawsthorne’s String Quartet No. 1 (1939) is also cast as a theme and variations; once more this is music that compels, is beautifully worked out, and is compact while spawning much over its 10 minutes.

The other quartets, from 1954 and 1965, are just as concise, in four and three movements, respectively—at least, Naxos supplies three cue points for No. 3—although the composer himself informs us that No. 3 is in “two main sections, each of these being divided into several sub-sections.” Rawsthorne’s introductions, presumably written for the first performances of each work, are helpfully reproduced in Naxos’s booklet. Both works dig deep into emotional states as well as being formally attractive. There’s real heart, here, and genuine craftsmanship, searching and voluble, the musical language extended as each work is reached in terms of the composer’s chronology while retaining a passionate outreach for the listener to climb aboard. If I suggest that admirers of Bartók and Hindemith will be on home ground here, I also want to stress that Rawsthorne is very much his own man, expressing himself deeply through music.

Wonderfully well played by the Maggini Quartet, and rendered with a conviction that suggests Rawsthorne’s music is standard repertoire for these musicians, this is an outstanding release that is further blessed by sound that is tangible and truthful. Please don’t miss what I believe to be really significant pieces.

FANFARE: Colin Anderson

Alan Rawsthorne is the rare mid-century English composer who essentially avoided the traditional pastoral style in favor of a highly abstract style in a manner reminiscent of Paul Hindemith. 'The Elegiac Rhapsody' is a dramatic companion piece to the work that opens the CD. Where the Rhapsody tends to be dramatic in a fashion that recalls the composer's many film scores, the Concerto has a turbulent restlessness, and a spiky, nervous energy. The 'Concertante pastorale' is a subdued work that comes closest to evoking the composer's native traditions. This comes as no surprise, as the composer considers it a light and lyrical work for a summer evening. The extremely brief 'Light Music for Strings' suggests a youthful Britten, while the six-minute Suite for Recorder and String Orchestra has a jaunty nature that points to Rawsthorne's more playful and less austere side. The Northern Chamber Orchestra, under the baton of David Lloyd-Jones, puts in a solid performance in a recording that is essential for anyone interested in attending to the works of a somewhat neglected English composer who deserves a wider audience.

Once again Naxos pulls a rabbit out of its hat with this gorgeous release of Alan Rawsthorne's music (with two world premieres yet). Rawsthorne (1905-71) was one of a middle generation of 20th century British Romanticists whose music had a somewhat rough edge, veering toward elements of atonality without really crossing the line (this is particularly true of his symphonies). One of Rawsthorne's best works, easily ranking with his symphonies, is the Symphonic Studies (1939) performed here. With its shifting moods and bright orchestral colors, this work more closely resembles a concerto for orchestra and is full of delicious surprises. It alone is worth the price of admission.


The world premieres here are the two concertos, one for oboe from 1947, the other a 1966 cello concerto. Both are mainstream Romantic works but with a bit more emotional content than found in the Symphonic Studies. The Oboe Concerto might draw comparisons with the one by Vaughan Williams, but while it has the same depth of emotion, it also has fewer melancholic elements. The soloist is Stéphane Rancourt, whose oboe provides a warm, sympathetic reading of the material without being assertive or showy. The Cello Concerto is a more dour work and it will remind the informed listener of Arnold Bax's cello concerto--but again, without that composer's brooding temperament. However, every performance element here is in place and the sound quality is superior. If you're new to Rawsthorne, there is no better introduction to his music than the Symphonic Studies. This is a real find.
--Paul Cook, ClassicsToday.com

Includes song(s) by Maurice Ravel. Soloists: Inva Mula-Tchako, Valérie Millot, Claire Brua, Gérard Théruel, Laurent Naouri, David Abramovitz.

RAVEL Violin Sonata. RESPIGHI Violin Sonata. GRANADOS Violin Sonata • Frederieke Saeijs (vn); Maurice Lammerts van Bueren (pn) • NAXOS 8.572093 (57:25)


The first movement of Ravel’s Violin Sonata (and, perhaps, the sonata in general) seems to send the violin and piano on their separate ways, solving the problem of their compatibility by a method akin to that of cutting the Gordian knot. Joseph Szigeti made the most of this quizzical relationship, deploying a tone that, if not pleasant, at least sounded hauntingly protean. In the first movement, Frederieke Saeijs creates a similar wealth of timbral detail that, by playing it straight, violinists like Grumiaux missed. If she doesn’t sound edgy in the tremolo passages, she’s generally as skilled in finding an appropriate shading for each passage, and pianist van Bueren shares her ear for tonal nuance. The blues movement in her reading seems down and dirty enough, even if the slides appear at times more fussy than seductive. The 1727 Pietro Guarneri (of Venice) seems to possess all the tonal resources she requires in the sonorously dissonant climax. Her opening gesture in the perpetual-motion finale seems to presage a more delicate performance than she gives the movement, which sounds athletic and energetic; when the violin and piano come together, as they do at the ends of the finale and the first movement, she and van Bueren deliver irresistible perorations. The duo sounds more atmospheric than did Dong-Suk Kang and Pascal Devoyon on Naxos’s 1989 recording of the sonata (8.550276), which I’ve always enthusiastically recommended.


Saeijs and van Bueren adopt a much darker manner in the first movement of Respighi’s sonata, with van Bueren warming to its large-scale romantic gestures and Saeijs producing a somewhat slender tonal counterpart, as did Kyung-Wha Chung (Deutsche Grammophon 427 617-2, Fanfare 13:6). That’s not to say that she can’t—or, in fact, doesn’t—rise to the movement’s grandiloquent statements. Heifetz also recorded this sonata (with Emanuel Bay in 1950), and her ear for subtle inflection may remind listeners of his, though she lacks his almost continuous laser-like focus. Much of the interest in the movement arises from her ongoing dialogue with van Bueren, as congenial here as it may have been antagonistic (appropriately so) in Ravel’s sonata. Van Bueren displays in the opening of the second movement an affecting expressive range; once again, the dialogue between the two players seems now gently intimate, now rapt, and, at times, nearly ecstatic. The Passacaglia requires from the duo great musical and tonal strength, two attributes that marked Heifetz’s playing in general. But Saeijs, if she doesn’t match him, calls upon reserves of power in its most declamatory moments that makes her reading both credible and creditable; van Bueren thunders with titanic energy in the final pages.


Granados’s sonata, the program’s least familiar work, came to light, according to Caroline Waight’s notes, in 1971. In its brief duration (under 12 minutes), the sonata, dedicated to Jacques Thibaud, explores what may seem to many listeners, after Ravel’s and Respighi’s sonatas, less mountainous terrain, though it demands delicate sensitivity to its style. Just as the players penetrated the respective manners of Ravel and Respighi, the duo also seems to attune itself quickly to Granados’s idiom, with its recurring arabesques and gutty declamations on the G string (which may remind violin aficionados of Thibaud).


The engineers balanced the violin and piano during the sessions from September 11–13, 2006, in the Rabobank Zaal of the Muziekcentrum Frits Philips in Einhoven, sparing listeners undue reverberation without loss of warmth. Urgently recommended for their stylistic penetration and general musical insight, as well as for their tonal attractiveness and technical security, the performances should appeal to all kinds of listeners.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Ravel: Piano Concertos - De Falla: Nights in the Gardens of

Listen to the Naxos Podcast to learn more about this release

Now here’s a novelty that fans of Ravel and Rimsky-Korsakov will want to hear. In 1910, the story of Antar reached the stage in Paris as a play, with incidental music by Ravel arranged out of Rimsky’s eponymous symphony/tone poem (with a bit of Mlada thrown in for good measure). There is very little original music by Ravel–just a couple of minutes in all–but the arrangements involve some telling reorchestration and the creation of numerous short interludes. The cinematic conclusion (sound clip) sums things up nicely. All told, you get almost the complete original work: the first three movements, plus a good bit of the finale, albeit in a different order.

Unfortunately, for this premiere recording a long, pretentious, self-consciously “poetic” narration has been added, with words by Amin Maalouf. His main musical distinction lies in the fact that he has furnished several opera librettos for Kaija Saariaho, as if that’s a recommendation. My annoyance grew with every word. I mean, the only reason anyone wants to hear this piece is to find out what Ravel did with Rimsky’s original. Why put narrator André Dussolier in what sounds like an empty aircraft hangar and superimpose his histrionic reading of the text on top of the music? You’ll get through it, but it was a bad decision.

That said, Slatkin’s conducting is excellent, as it almost always is when he’s interpreting Russian music, and the sonics are very good when the narrator isn’t narrating. The coupling is a fine performance of Shéhérazade. Isabelle Druet’s voice is, arguably, a bit too small for the work, but she only sounds strained at the climax of Asie. Otherwise, she sings with intelligence, excellent diction, and characterful attention to the text. A sometimes frustrating release, then, but a collector’s item all the same.

– ClassicsToday (David Hurwitz)

Listen to the Naxos Podcast to learn more about this release

Composed for Sergey Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes, Ravel’s ‘symphonie chorégraphique’ Daphnis et Chloé is based on a classical Greco-Roman love story set on the island of Lesbos. He described the work as ‘a vast musical fresco’, and with its extraordinarily passionate music, lush harmonies and orchestration, is considered both his masterpiece and the epitome of Impressionism in music. Orchestrated from the third of his Miroirs for piano, Ravel’s Une barque sur l’océan is an evocative portrayal of the ever-changing moods of the sea.

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REVIEWS:

This performance and recording comes close to fulfilling all of Ravel’s requirements. Slatkin paces the score admirably, even when he sets a spanking pace for the opening of the pirates’ dance. The orchestra find no difficulties in coping with the articulation of the notes here or in the final dance. I would put this Daphnis high on the list of currently available recordings.

– MusicWeb International

The shimmering orchestration and lush harmonies that epitomize impressionism are lovingly rendered by Slatkin and the French orchestra. While Daphnis et Chloé is most often presented as two suites for orchestra, this performance also includes the atmospheric choral parts, sung by Spirito, a body consisting of the Choruses and Soloists of Lyon and the Britten Chorus. Naxos provides remarkably clear and deep sound, so the finer points of Ravel’s scores are easily heard.

– All Music Guide

Maurice Ravel's incomparable skill in orchestration and command of orchestral color is evident both in his own works and in his orchestrations for ballet, while new life was given to his late friend Debussy's Sarabande et danse at the request of publisher Jean Jobert. Ravel's iconic orchestration of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition makes telling use of a large orchestra, vividly depicting scenes that range from the playful to the macabre.