Shostakovich scored dozens of films, starting in the silent era with a long, almost symphonic, accompaniment to Kozintsev and Trauberg’s New Babylon (1929). At the last minute the censors imposed heavy cuts on the film and there wasn’t time even to begin to try and make Shostakovich’s music fit what was left of the film. For his next film Odna (Alone) Shostakovich decided to make things easier for everybody and wrote music in easily assimilated portions ranging in duration from about 30 seconds to four and a half minutes. There are 48 cues on this CD – the complete score for the film.

Odna was planned as the first Soviet sound film but, due to the bulkiness of the sound recording equipment, it was shot, on location, as a silent with the soundtrack being added later at the Leningrad studios. As the soundtrack was poor, title cards were used as well as sound – hence the description of a sound/silent film. The plot is simplicity itself. Elena, a young teacher looks forward to a life with her husband-to-be in Leningrad but she is sent to the Altai, on the Mongolian border. She tries to teach the children, and they enjoy their lessons, but the parents need them to tend the sheep. Elena nearly dies in a snowdrift but is rescued “thanks to the Soviet State”, as a title card tells us. Finally, Elena leaves the Altai and returns to Leningrad, but we have no idea if her presence in the village has made any difference to the lives if the people she leaves behind. Shostakovich is much more positive in his closing music, giving a quite optimistic view.

The music covers a wide variety of styles and moods. There’s a lot of the kind of music we know from The Age of Gold, and the opera The Nose, circus music similar to that which appears in the first movement of the 4th Symphony, highly serious (but with a slight thumbing of the nose) for the village Soviet chairman waking up (track 29), but there’s also high drama, especially in the scenes where Elena nearly freezes to death, a very evocative use of the Theremin here.

The booklet tells us that this is one of Shostakovich’s best scores. It’s certainly one of his most varied and it’s easy to follow the slender plot. There’s also some delightful orchestrations – I particularly loved the duet for bassoons and harp and the duet for oboe and wood blocks! – ranging from full orchestra to chamber music combinations. You can hear the orchestral sound Shostakovich became famous for, sometimes in embryo, in almost every track.

The restoration of the score was obviously a labour of love. Much time and effort has obviously gone into the making of this disk. The performance is excellent: the orchestra is on top form and the soloists are, mercifully, lacking the kind of wide vibrato we used to get from Soviet singers.

All in all, an exciting release which finally does justice to a score we have only really known, in tantalisingly incomplete form, through Rozhdestvensky’s short Suite - which he recorded in the early 1980s, and which is now available in a 14 disk set from BMG/Melodia, or as a 2 disk set of Manuscripts from Different Years 74321 59058 2 - a version of the Suite by Dmitri Smirnov for wind ensemble (Netherlands Wind Ensemble, Meladina Record MRCD0021) and a Russian Disc issue of 1995 (RD CD 10 007) which included 29 cues from the score.

This is the real thing and it was worth the wait. Recording and notes are superb.

This Naxos series of Film Music Classics simply goes from strength to strength.

-- Bob Briggs, MusicWeb International

Includes work(s) for organ by Dietrich Buxtehude. Soloist: Julia Brown.

At the turn of the 15th century, Pierre de La Rue was the leading composer working north of the Alps. A member of the Habsburg-Burgundian chapel, he composed polyphony for all the major liturgical genres.

Vanderbilt University-based organist Carl Smith takes us on a pleasant little tour of some Tudor-era church music, visiting works by important contributors to the period's organ repertoire, most importantly John Redford, Thomas Tallis, and Thomas Tomkins. The pieces are typically short (most less than two minutes) and highly refined in their use of imitation and other developmental, structural devices. Most organs in England during the 16th and 17th centuries contained two manual divisions; pedal keyboards were virtually non-existent. Resources were relatively limited regarding registral compass and stops, especially compared to, say, instruments available in northern Germany at the time, and thus most English organ music of this period is for manuals only, the forms basic and unelaborate. Which is not to say the music by these very accomplished composers is uninteresting or inelegant.


On the contrary, the pieces on this program show the same high level of invention and craft that we hear in these same composers' more lauded choral compositions. Beyond that, it's up to the organist to bring the music to life, to carefully measure and sensitively balance its melodic and harmonic elements relative to period style and the constraints of a given instrument. And for these reasons--and for this repertoire--the choice of instrument is very important. Which brings us to Carl Smith, who is a serious student of English keyboard music and who has selected two different yet entirely appropriate American organs (one of which is featured on the CD cover) for his performances. The first, which he uses for 21 of the disc's 30 tracks, is an organ of modest specifications, dominated by fundamental flue stops; the second is more varied in voices and colors, featuring a nice selection of mutations, mixtures, and reeds, in addition to the basic flue stops. Smith is quite adept at utilizing his resources, keeping things interesting by often subtle variations in color and texture. In other words, this recital is very easy to listen to--and it's expertly played and recorded. Highlights include Redford's Te lucis ante terminum, a distant cousin of Bach's chorale preludes, and the wonderfully weird, anonymous La Mi Re.


I often wonder who is the intended audience for recordings such as this. The liner-note information regarding the organs and registrations employed is totally insufficient to satisfy organ aficionados--and the rather specialized content leaves it pretty much outside the realm of "non-organic" listeners. Fortunately, I like this kind of music and I was lucky enough to get to hear this CD; if you're of like mind, hopefully you'll make a point to hear it too. [11/3/2006]
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

Challenges even the best - a bargain alternative to Trevor Pinnock.

Naxos already had a decent recording of the ‘Nelson’ Mass (8.554416, with the ‘Little Organ’ Mass, Hob.XXII/7) on which soloists, the Hungarian Radio Chorus and the Nikolaus Esterházy Sinfonia were conducted by Béla Drahos. The new recording, Volume 3 of the Naxos series of the Haydn Masses, is also available in an 8-CD.

The Nikolaimesse, recorded in 2002, gets the new recording off to a very good start. The music is lighter, less vintage Haydn than its more familiar companion, with mainly brisk tempi much in the manner of the short early Masses which Mozart composed for his Salzburg patron Archbishop Coloredo. It also receives a fine performance and recording. The soloists don’t merit a listing on the rear insert, but they are named inside the booklet, as they deserve to be. If I select Ann Hoyt, the soprano, for special praise, that should not be at the expense of the others.

To be honest, I had not expected much from this CD - I hadn’t heard of any of the performers and I’d forgotten the warm reception which the complete box had received - but the performance of the Nikolaimesse alone makes it worth the modest price. All concerned convince me that this early work is at least the equal of any of Mozart’s Masses, with the exception of the Coronation (K317) the ‘Great’ Mass (K427)and, of course, the Requiem (K626).

The ‘Nelson’ Mass is, I think, at least the equal of the three best Mozart Masses. I shall continue to give it that name as a kind of shorthand, though it has very little to do with Lord Nelson: Haydn nicknames have a habit of sticking even when they are inappropriate - there is at least enough evidence to doubt that it was at a performance of Symphony No.96 that the heavy chandelier narrowly missed causing serious injury, yet the name ‘Miracle’ continues to be attached to that work. Haydn himself called it Missa in angustiis, Mass in straitened times, but it’s easier and shorter to continue to call it the ‘Nelson’.

The opening Kyrie announces that this is a more serious work than the Nikolaimesse. As Jennifer More Glagov notes in the excellent booklet, the lack of wind players - the Prince had just dismissed them as an economy measure - apart from three (specially hired?) trumpets gives the work an undeniably martial tone.

The performers again give an excellent account of themselves. Only Ann Hoyt remains from the earlier line-up and continues to sing impressively - my wife came in as I was listening and was very surprised to discover that this was the voice of a singer whom neither she nor I had heard before. Naxos and others please note, we want to hear more of her. The other soloists and the choir also step up to the plate and the recording, though thicker than for the earlier work, recorded five years earlier, is more than adequate. The last semi-professional performance of the ‘Nelson’ that I heard was spoiled by a soprano who out-sang everyone else, but that is certainly not the case here. I understand that all the soloists are members of the Trinity Choir, which must make it a formidable place for the musically inclined to worship.

John Sheppard (hereafter JS) complained of Burdick’s habit of slowing at certain points, but some of these are traditional. In the Creed, for example, the slowing at the end of track 16 on the words descendit de cælis prepares for the more marked traditional emphasis on et incarnatus est in the next section, where it used to be expected that all would kneel or bow deeply. In any case, JS soon began to be as untroubled by this practice as I was.

William Hedley (hereafter WH) commented on the reverberant acoustic of the Trinity Church but I really was not troubled by this - different audio systems react differently to reverberant recordings. Nor was I really troubled by the other detailed criticisms which he makes. Rather than repeat these here, I refer you to his review. Whilst I admit the validity of just about all of them, I cannot consider them a serious handicap to an overall recommendation.

WH is more than a little hard on the diction - the syllables are frequently chopped up in the wrong places, but the demise of Latin in the school curriculum makes it almost inevitable that a choir’s familiarity with that language can no more be taken for granted than a knowledge of Japanese. (Actually, the latter is a more frequent visitor to the modern UK secondary curriculum). Haydn would have expected to hear the harder Austro-Germanic pronunciation of Latin, with hard ‘g’ in virginis, and ‘c’ in crucifixus, for example; I’m pleased to report that all concerned here take the softer Italianate course.

JS raises the possibility that the set as a whole is superior even to Hickox (Chandos CHAN0599, also available separately) or Guest (Argo/Decca). I’m not quite sure that I would go that far, but I was impressed enough by the single CD under consideration to wish to sample more of the set via the Naxos Music Library.

I’ve already praised the quality of the Naxos notes. One small complaint concerns the absence of texts, but the Tridentine Latin Mass is pretty well known and the texts and translations are available online, as indicated above: they can be yours even without buying the CD.

Overall, I think that WH is right to prefer John Eliot Gardiner (Philips 470 2862, with the Theresienmesse) and Trevor Pinnock (DG Archiv 423 0972, with the Te Deum). I recommended the Pinnock version of the ‘Nelson’ Mass as Download of the Month in my May 2009 Download Roundup) and thoroughly agree with WH that it offers a life-enhancing experience, but I can’t imagine purchasers of the present CD being disappointed with J Owen Burdick’s performances. Having heard the recording right through once, I couldn’t wait to hear it all again, instead of taking the usual time out to gather my impressions. Go for Pinnock for the best - even at full price and rather short value - but the new Naxos makes a very fine and less expensive alternative.

-- Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International

A lifelong admirer of German musical culture, literature and thought, Brian wrote his Fourth Symphony 'Das Siegeslied' at a time when Germany's cultural heritage was being distorted by nationalism.

Includes song(s) by Roger Quilter.

A beautiful set of the great William Byrd's harpsichord music, well-played on four excellent instruments.

My Lady Nevells Booke is a collection of 42 pieces for keyboard by William Byrd. It seems that it was compiled for, Elizabeth Bacon, the third wife of Sir Henry Nevell but there is some uncertainty surrounding this attribution. This luxurious book, bound in leather and decorated with gold, contains one of the largest groups of keyboard works by Byrd. It includes some pieces that are found only in this book and which appear to have been composed especially for this collection.

While many recordings of Byrd’s keyboard music exist, there seems to be no other complete set of the works in this book. There is one exception, of course, in the shape of Davitt Moroney’s extraordinary Complete Keyboard Music on Hyperion. In addition to this being a full recording of the collection, the set benefits from the use of four outstanding instruments by Keith Hill. They are a lautenwerk (or lute-harpsichord), which is used on the first piece of the set, as well as a dozen others; an Italian single manual harpsichord; and two Flemish double-manual Ruckers copies.

It has become somewhat trendy to record English keyboard music on multiple instruments. Moroney’s set includes several harpsichords, muselar virginal, clavichord, chamber organ, and organ. This gives a more varied range of colours than a single instrument is capable of delivering, and, in most cases, better represents the variety of instruments used at the time. We can contrast this with Bach’s music, where the harpsichord was the norm - though Bach probably played a clavichord at home, and much of his music sounds excellent on that instrument. English music of the kind found in My Lady Nevells Booke was played on a variety of instruments. Recordings like this therefore have the advantage not only of presenting excellent music, but also of providing a more “authentic” experience. This is how listeners might well have heard the music. Of course, they would never have heard all three-and-three-quarter hours of this music in one sitting.

As for the music itself, William Byrd’s keyboard music is both idiomatic of his time, and unique. The very first work in this set, My Ladye Nevels Grownde, played on lautenwerk, is a French-like work with broken chords and attractive melodies. Farr plays this with subtlety and detachment, letting the music come through. The lautenwerk fits this piece very well, as it does most of the others where it is used. Another very attractive ground, Hughe Ashtons Grownde, sounds almost like Couperin with its ornamentation and style brisé. The Italian harpsichord used gives it a beautiful, almost other-worldly sound. This piece is slow and introspective, and, again, the combination of music, performer and instrument is nearly perfect.

Many of Byrd’s keyboard pieces are combinations of galliards and pavans. These two-part works feature a first movement, the pavan, which is slow and melodic, much like a saraband. The second part is much more lively and rhythmic. Thematically related, the pavans are generally longer than the galliards, and one can imagine how people would dance to these types of music, though harpsichord pieces were more for simply playing than for accompanying dancers. Each pavan/galliard set is played here on a single instrument, with the instruments changing from one set to the next. Listening to just the pavans and galliards gives an excellent introduction to Byrd’s music, and highlights the varied colours and tones available from the four instruments used here.

While Byrd did not write suites, as the French or Germans did, he did produce some pieces that are relatively long in comparison. Several pieces go over the eight- or nine-minute mark, including the excellent Have With Yow to Walsingame, a set of twenty-two variations. The performance here is understated, and exploits every possible effect of the Colmar Ruckers copy on which it is played.

So we have here an exemplary recording of great music; Byrd was arguably England's greatest composer of music for the keyboard. Beautiful instruments are deployed and the sounds of all four are luscious. The sessions took place in a fine acoustics with a hint too much reverb, but otherwise the instruments can be heard in all their splendour. The picture is completed by sensitive and distinctive playing. Elizabeth Farr is an excellent performer and seems perfectly suited to this music. I regret to say that I was unfamiliar with her before hearing this set.

If you do not know William Byrd’s keyboard music, you have no excuse now. This is undoubtedly the best collection available for its price - thank you, Naxos. If you are familiar with this music, you’ll certainly want this 3 CD box. Not only is it well-played and on beautiful instruments, but it contains all the works from Lady Nevells Booke, the only such set available right now. Trust me; you simply can’t go wrong with this.

-- Kirk McElhearn, MusicWeb International

There are fine recordings of Haydn's Violin Concertos by the likes of Arthur Grumiaux and Christian Tetzlaff, among others. Here's another that belongs in their company, and at budget price, too. Augustin Hadelich is a Juilliard prize-winner who brings youthful élan to the three authenticated Haydn violin concertos, adding his own apt cadenzas to them as well. They're early works, dating from the 1760s during Haydn's service for the Esterházy court. Likely written for performance by the noted virtuoso Luigi Tomasini, they're lovely pieces with ample showiness in double-stopping episodes and spirited passagework.

The C major concerto is especially notable for its sprightly outer movements flanking an exquisite Adagio, sweetly sung by Hadelich, who plays it with an affecting inwardness and intensity of feeling. He's also well up to the brilliance of the A major concerto's solo part and the virtuoso touches that characterize the G major trio, with its use of dotted notes, double-stopping, and ornamentation. Here, as elsewhere in the program, Hadelich demonstrates a tonal sweetness in the high register that is instantly appealing. The only possible aspect of his performances that could engender dissent is the occasional use of a slow vibrato that put me in mind of a wobbly soprano.

Helmut Müller-Brühl and his modern-instrument Cologne Chamber Orchestra record frequently for Naxos, and this is one of their best Haydn outings, supporting the soloist with energy and style. The engineering also is well up to snuff, with admirable transparency in such episodes as the opening of the C major's Adagio movement, where the solo violin sings the melody over the strings' pizzicato accompaniment.

--Dan Davis, ClassicsToday.com

Among J.S. Bach' 200 or so surviving church cantatas, these four for solo soprano include the popular Jauchzet Gott in allen Landen, in which singer and solo trumpet engage in thrilling displays of virtuosity.

Completed in 1887, Stanford' 'Irish' Symphony enjoyed immediate and widespread success, continuing to be played well into the twentieth century.

This is the final disc in the Naxos edition of the complete Tchaikovsky songs, which represent a little-known but highly characteristic facet of his musical personality. "Kazarnovskaya possesses a soprano rich in timbre and powerful in projection.

Guitar aficionados need to hear Escobar’s absolutely stunning playing of un-hackneyed music.

Outside a small group of specialists the music of Chile is pretty much unknown in Europe. Of the names mentioned on this disc only Victor Jara and Violeta Parra can claim to be – or have been – anything approaching household names and then only within a more popular genre with political and/or social undertones.

The five composers represented here – four of them contemporaries – have assimilated elements from popular music or folk music and amalgamated them with academic compositional principles. The outcome is a programme with evocative rhythms, beautiful melodies and in some cases harsh harmonies.

What is also evident from the outset is the technical flair and brilliance of the playing. José Antonio Escobar is a fabulous guitarist, whose playing is so assured that it sounds more or less improvised. It sounds effortless – and that is not a euphemism for bland and unengaged – but he gives the impression that technical intricacies are no big deal; he can concentrate on shaping the music.

Javier Contreras is the youngest of the composers on this disc and he is also the boldest, harmonically speaking. Euclidica is virtuoso music, also requiring the player to treat the guitar as a percussion instrument. That also goes for Tonada del Retorno and Tonada a mi madre, which is fluent and vital music. The homage to Victor Jara is tranquil and here the composer has adjusted to the style in which Jara himself played.

Horacio Salinas was in the 1980s leader of the group Inti-illmani, which cooperated with John Williams; Cristalino is a reminder of that relationship. It is a movement from a longer work that would have been interesting to hear complete. It is beautiful and melodious, changing directions constantly.

Antonio Restucci’s music is also virtuosic and he has a nice feeling for melody. It is rhythmically attractive and there is more than a whiff of Argentina about it.

With Juan Antonio Sánchez we find this mix of popular and serious elements mentioned above very pronounced. It is paired with a sense of improvisation, which turns out to be truer than I first understood. For this is exactly the case: he allows the player freedom to use his imagination. Chiloética has much of this sense all through, though I don’t know to what degree Escobar plays ad lib. The guitar sonata, like so much else on this disc very recent music, has an opening movement that is dominated by the rhythmic elements, often jagged and ‘backward’. The second, Dulce, is exactly that: soft and contemplative. The third movement is quickly walking but with sudden pauses, and in the finale rhythm is again to the fore – most of it is percussive.

The sonata is a tribute to Violeta Parra, who is herself represented by 5 Anticuecas from 1961. These pieces were not written down. They were transcribed from her recordings after her death. One can hear phrases that are reminiscent of her songs but by and large this is music that stands out as highly original, not sophisticated but ‘real’. The simile may limp but this might be seen as a Chilean variant of blues. No. 5 is especially intense and – yes, bluesy.

The last word goes again to Sánchez, whose Tonada por despedita is intimate and melodious in a popular vein. One almost expects the player to start singing. As in every good encore he adds zest to the end through a sudden dramatic outburst.

Norbert Kraft and Bonnie Silver have provided ideal sound as usual. Juan Pablo González, Instituto de Música, Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, gives much useful information on the composers and their music, even though I wish he had been allotted more space, since this is a field that is largely unknown to me.

Guitar aficionados need to hear Escobar’s absolutely stunning playing. Having played the disc three or four times I have come to terms with the music and found that it opens up and has something new to offer every time.

-- Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International

FLAGELLO Symphony No. 2, “Symphony of the Winds” 1. Concerto Sinfonico (trans. Merlin Patterson). 1,2 Odyssey 1. Valse Noire (trans. Walter Simmons) 2. ROSNER Symphony No. 8, “Trinity” 1 • 1 David Bertman, cond; 1 University of Houston Wind Ens; 2 University of Houston Sax Qrt • NAXOS 8.573060 (74:37)


The first thing regular readers will notice about this release is a heavy Fanfare presence. Our longtime reviewer Walter Simmons transcribed Flagello’s Valse Noire for saxophone quartet; that haunting, minor-key waltz was originally composed in 1964 for accordion. A more recent contributor, Merlin Patterson, transcribed Flagello’s Concerto Sinfonico (a concerto for saxophone quartet and orchestra) for symphonic band. The disc was produced by Merlin Patterson, with Walter Simmons as executive producer. Also, Fanfare reviewer Carson Cooman contributed to the digital editing of the recording. Under the circumstances it would be difficult for me to give this release a bad review; luckily, there is no need. The music is first-rate and the performances are excellent.


The second of Nicolas Flagello’s two symphonies was written for wind band in 1970 but did not receive its first public performance until nine years later. This kind of lengthy delay was typical during the final stages of the composer’s career, when his music was considered unfashionably romantic—if it was considered at all. The three movements’ subtitles convey the overall mood: The first is “The Torrid Winds of Veiled Portents,” the second, “Dark Winds of Lonely Contemplation,” and the third, a fugue, is called “The Winds of Re-birth and Vitality.” Like all of the composer’s works that I have heard, it is what I would call “high stakes” music. The emotional content is turbulent in the restless first movement, itself another ghostly waltz, but there is no relaxation of tension in the plaintive aria of the second movement nor in the finale, which engages in some tough contrapuntal writing. Throughout, Flagello’s sense of structure and the effectiveness of his scoring show the highest degree of expertise. This must be exciting music to play, and certainly stretching technically; I was struck by some tricky writing for trumpet in the second and third movements. Simmons’s notes do not mention it, but I wonder whether Flagello turned to this medium in the hope of emulating the success of his mentor Vittorio Giannini, whose Symphony No. 3 of 1958 for wind ensemble became a major repertory piece.


The characterful tone poem Odyssey of 1981 teems with even more “veiled portents” than the symphony, despite its comparatively jaunty central section. The tension of the grim opening is fearsome—so much so, I was reminded of Max Steiner’s atmospheric score for King Kong.


Naxos has previously released a fine recording of the original version of Flagello’s Concerto Sinfonico , and it is enlightening to compare the two. Patterson’s transcription is first-rate; like all good arrangements, it never hints that the work might have been conceived for different forces. Hearing the saxophone quartet as a sub-group of the wind ensemble clarifies the counterpoint (of which there is a lot in this work) and points up the intricacies of the interplay between the concertante and ripieno groups. The version with full orchestra sounds more like a concerto, with the soloists set in higher relief against the texture of strings. Again, it is a tough work but full of integrity, and though it was Flagello’s final completed composition it shows no sign whatsoever of his failing mental and physical condition.


Arnold Rosner is a younger composer than his discmate. Their two symphonies are quite unalike, except that both composers use tonal harmony. Rosner’s primary influence is the music of pre-Baroque eras, and I think the sonorities of the symphonic wind band emphasize this. The first movement of his symphony (titled “Ave Maria”) has an authentic feel of antiquity about it, almost as though it were a transcription of a Palestrina motet. A brass cantus firmus in the third movement (“Pythagoras”) brings overtones of Gesualdo, while the frequent use of sparkling tuned percussion across the top of the polyphonic texture suggests court music of the medieval period. Yet there is a freedom in the handling and development of this material that is distinctly 20th century. (The symphony was composed in 1988.) It is a fascinating and beautiful piece, probably my favorite of the composer’s works that I know.


The sound is close-up in the Naxos tradition, but that is no problem because the University of Houston Wind Ensemble plays magnificently. Its blend, attack, and range of dynamics are all this music requires and more, under Bertman’s strong direction. Playing standards have varied in the Naxos Wind Band Classics series, but this is one of the very best and a welcome addition to the growing Flagello discography.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

There's more to Canteloube than the Auvergne, so splendidly shown here

For her second CD devoted to Joseph Canteloube’s vocal music, Véronique Gens has looked beyond the celebrated, much-recorded Chants d’Auvergne, and back to Tryptique, composed in 1913. Canteloube dedicated this to Maggie Teyte but the First World War interrupted its progress, and it was not until 1923 that Jane Campredon gave the premiere, with the Colonne orchestra conducted by Gabriel Pierné.

A setting of three poems by Roger Frêne, its lush, not to say extravagant orchestration anticipates Canteloube’s later folksong settings. The influence of both Ravel and Debussy is obvious, maybe also Stravinsky (it was, after all, the year of The Rite of Spring). The first section, “Offrande à l’été” is an ardent love song, with some pretty giddy scoring for harps. The central “Lunaire” has a more mysterious, yearning feel, with a lovely little dissonance at the word “cendre”, as the poet imagines the leaves turning to ash. The finale, “Hymne dans l’aurore” is an ecstatic prayer to Pan, celebrating every wonder of nature. The final cry, “Mon âme s’ouvre ainsi qu’une aube étincellante! O Pan!” is marked in the score crescendo en grandissant, and Gens, Serge Baudo and the Lille Orchestra rise to the moment with splendid force. It is really surprising that this work has not become better known; any soprano wanting to look beyond the obvious repertory should welcome it.

The rest of the disc is taken up with those remaining Auvergne songs not included on the earlier issue, conducted by Jean-Claude Casadesus (4/05). Once again, Gens proves that an authentic knowledge of the dialect is a great advantage. The much later group from Chants de France makes a pleasant end to the recital, but it is Tryptique that has to be heard.

-- Patrick O'Connor, Gramophone [12/2007]

Véronique Gens sings beautifully throughout and shows a fine understanding … perfectly at ease.

Since Stokowski’s and Anna Moffo’s pioneering recording of selections from Canteloube’s Chants d’Auvergne, these beautiful folk-song arrangements have become part of many sopranos’ repertoire. One can name Kiri Te Kanawa, Jill Gomez, Frederica von Stade and others having had a go at these ravishing works. Véronique Gens has already recorded a first volume with the same orchestra conducted by Jean-Claude Casadesus (Naxos 8.557491) favourably reviewed here by Anne Ozorio.

In spite of a varied output of chamber and orchestral music also including an opera Le Mas, the composer is now mainly known for his colourful, yet often subtle arrangements. In fact, next to the now celebrated Chants d’Auvergne, he also collected and arranged folk-songs from the Basque country, some of which were recorded some time ago (on Audivis). The present selection of nine folk songs, a few of which are new to me, beautifully complements Gens’ first instalment. What makes this release particularly worth having is the inclusion of a selection from Les Chants de France and, more importantly to my mind, that of the fine Triptyque composed in 1914 but first performed in 1925. In these settings of poems by Roger Frêne, a poet unknown to me about whom I could not find any useful information, Canteloube proves himself the heir of the likes of Fauré, Duparc and Chausson. At the same time he is attentive to the musical trends of his time: Debussy and Ravel. There is much orchestral refinement in these fine settings with more than a touch of Impressionism. I was particularly impressed by the third song Hymne dans l’aurore. It paints a strongly atmospheric evocation of the coming of dawn crowned by a glowing sunrise.

In Chants de France, Canteloube continues his labour of love with French folk-song and brings comparable subtlety and refinement to bear. In much the same way as in Chants d’Auvergne, the composer succeeds in wrapping his arrangements in superb orchestral guise, while bringing out some surprising and unexpected touches. Just try the first song, the celebrated Auprès de ma blonde; in which the composer eschews any mawkishness and vulgarity. In the last one, D’où venez-vous fillette? Has some salty rhythmic surprises in the accompaniment. The other arrangements in this selection, likewise those from Chants d’Auvergne, alternate touching tenderness, mild sorrow and earthy humour. A most welcome addition to the catalogue, although I wanted more of them given the somewhat short total playing time of this otherwise desirable release.

Véronique Gens sings beautifully throughout and shows a fine understanding of the Auvergne dialect. I think I remember a recent interview - was it in Gramophone? - in which she mentioned that she had family roots in the Auvergne and that these folk-songs meant a great deal to her. That certainly shows in her performances; but she is equally and equally perfectly at ease with the other works featured here.

Serge Baudo is highly regarded for his sympathy with French music of the first half of the 20th century and beyond. Once again he proves a most reliable and inspired partner. A pity, though, that the words of Triptyque could not be printed in the insert notes, although Gens’ excellent diction more than compensates.

-- Hubert Culot, MusicWeb International

Brahms wrote his String Quartet in B-flat major, Op. 67 in 1876 and its alrgely unclouded and cheerful qualities culminate in a theme and variations finale of exceptional imagination and mastery of form. His last chamber music was inspired by a great exponent of the clarinet, Richard Mühlfeld, for whom he wrote four works including the Clarinet Quintet. This dazzling masterpiece is notable not only for its underlying elegiac mood but for its thematic interrelation and teh wide expressive range of the solo instrument. The first two String Quartets can be heard on 8573433 in performances described by ClassicsToday as "... passionate expressions of these scores."

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REVIEWS:

There can be no gainsaying that this is a gorgeous performance of Brahms’s Clarinet Quintet; and the New Zealand String Quartet’s performance of Brahms’s String Quartet No. 3 is no less compelling.

– Fanfare

Brahms String Quartet Op. 67 is an extraordinary piece and the NZSQ gives it a truly fine performance. An equally magnificent performance of one of Brahms’s late masterpieces, the Clarinet Quintet, Op. 115, finds the James Campbell's gorgeous clarinet in perfect balance and in equal partnership with the strings, which is as it should be.

– Musical Toronto

One of the most recognized wind bands in the United States, the Ohio State University Wind Symphony, conducted by Russel C. Mikkelson, has been a strong advocate for the composition of new works for wind band. This album by the ensemble features the title track, Network, as the explosive album opener. Following are works by Benjamin Britten, Gustav Mahler, and Steven Bryant. Soprano Katherine Rohrer is featured for Mahler’s Um Mitternacht.

Lorenzino del Liuto was one of the most famous and accomplished virtuosi of the lute, as well as a composer who strongly influenced Italian and foreign lute literature.

Classical Music

Fuchs’s distinctive voice, flair for orchestral colours and sheer lyricism shine through.

Kenneth Fuchs is fortunate indeed to have not one but two discs of his music recorded by the London Symphony Orchestra. The first, in 2003, was nominated for two Grammys in 2005 and the second, recorded in 2006, should do well too, such is the quality of both the music and music-making. Holding it all together in the orchestral pieces and the mixed quintet is conductor JoAnn Falletta, who made such a strong impression in her recent disc of Respighi (review).

United Artists, the first item on the disc, was written specifically for the LSO as a gesture of thanks for their earlier recording of Fuchs’s works (Naxos 8.559224). At its core is a four-note motif, presented first in the Coplandesque opening fanfare. But this isn’t derivative music; indeed, the composer’s distinctive ‘voice’ is evident from the outset, and his flair for orchestral colours and sheer lyricism shine through in this atmospheric opener.

Quiet in the land is another of those vast musical landscapes that might provoke comparisons with Copland, yet Fuchs’s evocation of the Midwestern Plains just as the Iraq war was beginning is rather more complex and ambiguous in its sentiments. As the composer writes in the liner notes, ‘I wondered how quiet the spirit of our land might be’.

Even without this programme the opening bars hint at harmony, subtly undermined by vague discord - just listen to that quiet, agitated figure that begins at 1:30, beneath the more lyrical and expansive melody above. It is such lucid, ‘hear-through’ writing, yet it’s full of warmth. The members of the LSO manage to bring out both these aspects of the score, blending precision with feeling. And what a haunting close, too.

The recording venue – St Luke’s in London’s Old Street – is very well captured by the engineers, with no hint of brittleness or edge. The musicians seem ideally placed, too, which is particularly welcome in Fire, Ice, and Summer Bronze for brass quintet. Subtitled an ’Idyll ... after two works on paper by Helen Frankenthaler’ the first movement yokes together two eternal opposites – fire (the restless first section) and ice (the more muted second section).

There seems to be an underlying creative tension in some of these pieces, perhaps an attempt to reconcile musical and emotional extremes. For instance, in Summer Bronze the music is strangely mercurial – now lyrical, now dissonant, now both. But it’s that other dichotomy, between outward virtuosity and inner feeling, that these seasoned players – always secure, always poised – convey so well.

Based on a painting by Jackson Pollock, Autumn Rhythm does contain some jazzy snippets, but the emphasis seems to be on sonorities, with long, lyrical melodic lines and, at times, a quirky bass. It is a strangely ‘in-between’ piece; to use the autumn analogy, summer is not quite done, yet winter is on its way. In his notes Fuchs describes how the two states are drawn together and, indeed, how one becomes the other: ‘An unusual aspect of this composition is that in its final section the flute, oboe, and clarinet metamorphose into their lower – perhaps autumnal – counterparts, the alto flute, English horn, and bass clarinet.’ It’s a remarkable sleight of hand, deftly constructed and seamlessly executed.

Canticle of the Sun – a hymn tune based on 13th-century texts by St Francis of Assisi – is built on a four-note motif. Written for the LSO’s principal horn player, Timothy Jones, this 20-minute gem has a radiant, all-embracing optimism that is just irresistible. Indeed, it is not unlike a stained glass window, all those fragments of high colour glowing in the light behind. But at the centre of it all is Jones’s supple and passionate playing, surely as seductive a performance of this piece as we are ever likely to hear.

As with Respighi’s Church Windows, Falletta displays a sense of line and phrase that is most welcome in this music. And while I’ve grumbled about the sound on some Naxos releases I’m prepared to eat humble pie on this one. The engineers have done an exceptional job capturing the sound of the LSO at St Luke’s; what a pleasant change from the dry-as-dust Barbican.

Early days, I know, but this could be one of my discs of 2008.

Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

Perhaps the best Hovhaness instalment so far from Naxos.

Naxos are moving with implacable determination around the towering edifice that is the Hovhaness catalogue. Disc after disc is added to their catalogue and discoveries are being made at every turn. This latest volume, set in the context of their American Classics series continues the track record established by: 8.559294 (Symphony 60; Guitar Concerto 1), 8.559207 (Symphonies 4, 20, 53) and 8.559128 (Cello Concerto, Symphony 22).

As is evident from the Saxophone Concerto Hovhaness can be unpredictable and so he proves here. The wonderfully titled Fanfare for the New Atlantis is more of a tone poem with aspects of fanfare in-built. His regal and confident brass writing has the trappings of antiquity - a touch of the Gabriellis - but there is also a sense of modernity, of prayer and of invocation. The most stately aspects of the fanfares at 5:10 recall the striding brass writing in Vaughan Williams' Pilgrim's Progress. The origin of the piece seems unknown though it may have some connection with the Francis Bacon Society which believes that Shakespeare was Bacon's pen-name. Hovhaness was a member of the Society. Amongst Bacon's writings is The New Atlantis. In any event this Fanfare defies clichés you may have absorbed from knowing the examples by Bliss, Walton and Benjamin. This fanfare is recorded, as are all three works, with lavish resonance yet with no loss in definition.

The Guitar Concerto No. 2 was commissioned by Narciso Yepes who gave the work its premiere at the Granada Festival in 1990, five years after its completion. This may have been delayed by the tragic death of Yepes' son in the year in which the concerto was completed. There were no other performances after the premiere. Javier Calderón who commissioned the First Guitar Concerto plays it here although David Leisner made the first recording of the guitar concerto (Naxos 8.559294). The Concerto No. 2 is in four movements. The first is an andante which is delicate, stately and Moorish in character. The allegro giusto recalls the Ravel string quartet in its pizzicato and Rodrigo's Aranjuez in the guitar writing. The andante misterioso makes use of the composer's trademark in surging and searching unison strings alternating with guitar solo. The two commune in invocation and response. The final adagio, allegro giusto combines the sinuous North African arcana of the first movement with a delicate heel-and-toe dance (2:06) over pizzicato. It will have most listeners wanting to play this piece again and again.

In the Loon Lake Symphony Hovhaness looks back in the first movement (Prelude) through the hybrid Celtic-Oriental cor anglais melody to holidays in New Hampshire. We should remember that Hovhaness spent time at his uncle's New Hampshire farm. The commission for this work came in 1987 from the New Hampshire Music Festival. The opulent yet understated carpet of the orchestra comprises a delicate interplay of harp, bells, and pizzicato strings murmuring and strumming. The contemplative and partially Debussian second and last movement includes an Andante misterioso which seems to wander in a trance through those countryside memories. The sound of the loon is quoted in this evocative movement (4:30 and 15:03). The co-commissioner of the Symphony was the Loon Preservation Society. The dialogue of woodwind and the steady dripping of harp hold the attention. The flute and oboe have a louche and jazzy character (12:46) over a pizzicato string backdrop. This develops into an episode which has the clarinet singing a Holstian melody which has something of the greensward about it (14:10). The rhapsodic curl of the woodwind solos resonates with Vaughan Williams - this time the Antarctica rather than the Tallis Fantasia. This is a most beautiful and naturally eloquent symphony. The grand Purcellian statements which are a Hovhaness watermark are here added silver livery by the harp’s expressive endowment. Over this grandeur the trumpet cries out in a further evocation of the loon.

The notes are helpful and specific - always valuable with Hovhaness – and add to the delights of this fine disc.

Naxos are in their element with the Hovhaness symphonies. Don't stop now; of a total of 67 there are plenty of unrecorded symphonies to tackle.

I cannot over-emphasise how attractive this music is. Hovhaness wrote in the 1960s of the importance of identifying our own kind of beauty. These three works bear him out completely.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

The two works on this disc date from the early to mid 1920s and very much belong to the "new objectivity" of composers such as Weill and early Hindemith. Indeed, when listening to the Cello Concerto, the latter's Kammermusik series comes readily to mind. The Dance Suite, inventively scored for flute, clarinet, violins, viola, double bass, and percussion, is quite a substantial piece as well, lasting nearly half an hour and featuring a typically manic, highly stylized take on theoretically popular music. Both works are extremely acerbic harmonically, often verging on atonality, but at the same time quite recognizably melodic and often shot through with a curiously haunting, bittersweet lyricism.


In short, these works are very much redolent of their time and place, and if the period or the idiom interests you, then so will these very polished and well recorded performances. There's really nothing more that needs to be said: the players are uniformly fine, with cellist Christian Poltéra making the concerto sound as close to effortless as it probably ever can. The music may be gnarly, but it's also highly virtuosic and often fun (particularly in the Dance Suite), and this latter quality comes through quite effectively. In sum, this is a fine disc, but one for specialized tastes.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Bernstein?s Serenade for solo violin, strings, harp, and percussion was inspired by Plato?s Symposium and the composer described it as a ?series of related statements in praise of love.? This is the only performance I know which treats it that way, rather than as a snazzy solo concerto. It?s partly to do with conductor Marin Alsop?s measured approach to tempo: the work bounces along, but the syncopated rhythms never race out of control, and moments of excitement are never whipped up in order to generate a buzz. It?s also partly to do with the soloist. Philippe Quint?s smooth-toned violin persuades and cajoles: there are flights of fancy, but there is also reasoned argument. In short, this really does sound like a group of articulate protagonists in intellectual parlay (a situation Bernstein himself loved to be in). Marin Alsop was a protegee of the composer, and here she salutes his memory by taking the program of the Serenade seriously. The aforementioned sections of the Bournemouth orchestra are disciplined and tight.


The ballet score, Facsimile , perhaps needs to be drawn out of its shell a little more; it is the least flashy of Bernstein?s early concert works. Alsop and the orchestra do it justice, but this is one of those rare cases where only the composer (on Sony and Deutsche Grammophon) can bring it to shining life. Jerome Robbins?s ballet was set to a nihilistic scenario of ?post war malaise and the spiritual vacuum of modern man,? to quote the notes. (I thought the post-war era was optimistic! Robbins should have been around now.) The music is, likewise, a little gray, though Bernstein?s natural ebullience peeps through whenever it can. In any case, the playful moments need to be more playful, the dramatic fortes a little more dramatic than they are allowed to be here. The prominent piano part is nicely integrated into the orchestral fabric in this spacious recording.


Facsimile is an exception to my theory (which I?m sticking to) that, generally, Bernstein?s music speaks for itself and it?s musicality suffers when points are over-emphasized or climaxes inflated. The late Divertimento (written for the centenary of the Boston SO) provides a good example. Once more, Alsop reins in the highjinks and as a result, the piece seems more substantial and less ?occasional? than usual. These works are available in the composer?s recordings and many other fine interpretations exist (such as Hilary Hahn?s dazzling Serenade, with David Zinman conducting the Baltimore SO on Sony?if it?s still around) but Naxos gives us more than mere bargain-basement versions. These are smart, sharply realized, well-recorded performances.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

If ever there was a composer for today, that composer is William Bolcom. Just as music of all kinds is omnipresent in our lives, so it is in his work. If he likes it, it?s in?and it?s not a carefully refracted influence (like Christopher Rouse?s rock) or a sarcastic juxtaposition of quotations ( à la Schnittke), it?s just there . Bolcom drew upon Ivesian Americana in his 1976 piano concerto; he created a languorous passage of jazz fiddle in his violin concerto because he admired Joe Venuti?s licks, and look at the broad stylistic vocabulary at work in his fearless, monumental setting of Blake?s Songs of Innocence and Experience (also available on Naxos, and indispensable). On this disc, in the sometimes-uniform sound world of duo-piano, the stylistic variety he displays is typically wide-ranging.


The earliest piece is the short Interlude from 1963 (rev. 1965). Composed when Bolcom was a student, it employs the then obligatory atonal language. He was studying with Darius Milhaud and Olivier Messiaen in Paris at the time, but a few years later, he discovered and fell in love with ragtime. Bolcom is, of course, also renowned as a pianist (as soloist and accompanist to his wife Joan Morris) and his recordings, as well as his compositions, helped to re-establish rag as a form. From 1969, we have here a rag ( The Serpent?s Kiss ) and a cakewalk ( Through Eden?s gates ), rearranged from a solo piano suite for Richard and John Contigula (who recorded it on one of their Connoisseur discs, long gone). These are both laid-back, loving pieces; in the cakewalk, which the composer describes as ?[conjuring] the image of Adam and Eve calmly cakewalking their way out of Paradise,? we find a passage where one of the pianists knocks out a syncopated rhythm on the wood to the other?s ?stop? chords: a genuine tap-dancing turn, and how better to depict Adam and Eve?s cheeky defiance of God?


The longest work here is the two-movement suite, Frescoes (1971). Here Bolcom adopts the avant-garde devices of the 1970s: aleatory passages, explosions of dissonance, and above all the exploration of tone color. The pianists double at various points on harpsichord and harmonium: it?s all very spooky and George Crumbish, apart from one moment where Bolcom switches gears and suddenly we?re hearing a ?till ready? intro to a Broadway point number. Throughout its 28 minutes, Frescoes holds out attention due to the composer?s sophisticated ear for texture and his sense of fun. The 1993 Sonata in one movement is more straightforward stylistically (although references to Schoenberg and Debussy pop up), because Bolcom concentrates his energies on structure, fusing Classical first-movement sonata form with the overall fast/slow/fast layout of a full sonata.


The opening work, Recuerdos, is a three-movement suite from 1991 that specifically pays homage to three Latin composers, Ernesto Nazareth, Louis-Moreau Gottschalk, and Ramón Delago Palacios. Bolcom does not merely ape the sound of these composers; he understands and recreates the innate qualities that made them popular (as Ravel did in his piano homages to Chabrier and Borodin). Thus, Bolcom pinpoints the lazy playfulness of Nazareth (?creator? of the choro , according to the notes), the florid panache of Gottschalk, and the full-blooded bravado of Palacios. (Milhaud obviously started this particular ball rolling with his own Latin-derived music; Bolcom the pianist made a wonderful, sympathetic recording for Nonesuch of Milhaud?s Saudades do Brazil. It demands to be reissued.)


The distinguished duo-piano team of Elizabeth and Marcel Bergmann play Bolcom?s music for all it?s worth?which means going over the top when necessary. The recording is excellent, encompassing the extremes of forte and piano in a dryish but not cramped acoustic. Also, whoever determined the order of works on the CD made a brilliant decision: the final marcato chords of Recuerdos are virtually the same as the opening marcato chords of Frescoes . In the first, they represent the flamenco stamping of a final Spanish cadence, and in the second, a call to attention for a journey through a stunningly contrasted harmonic and sonic terrain. This canny juxtaposition epitomizes the composer?s eclecticism. Bravo, Naxos: now for the five (or more?) symphonies! Meanwhile, this disc goes on my first Want list.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

All of these works predate Aaron Copland's populist American ballets, but they reveal perhaps even more tellingly just what a talented and individual voice he had right from the start. The most important piece here is the Short Symphony (a.k.a. Symphony No. 2), a stunning essay in rhythmic lyricism that was considered all but unplayable when written in 1933--so much so that Copland rewrote it as a sextet. This performance hasn't quite the sharpness and sizzle of the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra recording for DG, but the Bournemouth Symphony under Marin Alsop shows itself more than capable of mastering the music's intricacies.

The other two performances are even finer. Alsop catches the bittersweet lyricism of the First Symphony's outer movements very affectingly, while the whirlwind central scherzo is dazzling. The same observation holds true of the Dance Symphony, which works its way to a fine frenzy in a finale that strikingly anticipates the mature composer of the 1940s. Copland's bright, open textures come across well in the problematic acoustic of the Poole concert hall; this is one of Naxos' better recordings from this locale, graced with some really impressive bass sonorities. This is an intelligently planned and impressively executed disc.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Every note is taken seriously and every bar is chock-full of ‘pizzazz’

This, at least for me, is possibly the ‘best’ of the three Naxos CDs of Leroy Anderson’s music released to date. But that is simply because it has my favourite Anderson piece on it – the Serenata. Here is a miniature that conjures up the summer sunshine in Majorca or the Costa del Sol. But not just sunshine – there is quite definitely a beautiful senorita with smouldering eyes, blatantly portrayed by the ‘major’ key part of this piece ... But there are other reasons why this CD is ‘top of the pops.’ For example, it would be a stern person indeed who did not laugh out loud at the antics of the ‘band’ in the 1947 arrangement of Old MacDonald had a Farm – complete with a battery of animal noises, Surely a piece like this would bring the Albert Hall down on the ‘Last Night’?

The CD opens with a rather fun pre-war work - the Harvard Sketches which supposedly describes the antics of the students. The number opens quite innocuously with an impression of the Lowell House Bells, yet soon there is a change of mood when a clarinet strikes up a jaunty tune in Harvard Square. As it is a ‘freshman,’ I guess he does not realise this is ‘not appropriate music’ for the old Alma Mater. There are lots of ‘wrong’ notes! The silence of the Widener Reading Room is presented in a quiet reflective mood – only to be interrupted by strange noises representing chattering and of course the librarian ‘rapping the desk for silence.’ Harvard Sketches ends with a Confetti Dance. Surely the listener cannot help but be reminded of Charles Ives in this piece.

Melody on Two Notes is quite simply lovely. The tune is, based on the notes G and D but is presented in such a way that interest is never lost. However, it is the harmonies and the orchestration that bring character to this work. Alas, it is painfully short.

Mother’s Whistler, from 1940 and the Penny Whistle Song written eleven years later are typical Anderson numbers. The former was lost to the world until it was discovered in the Boston Pops library – this is its first recording. Apparently the composer was not happy with the piece. Look out for the barking dog! The Penny Whistle Song is really a quiet piece with a catchy tune; it is well-described as ‘happy go lucky.’

The Phantom Regiment is supposed to ‘depict a nameless body of soldiers marching into and then trotting across the scene – before marching away.’ It is interesting balance of military march and up tempo quick step. I guess that Plink, Plank, Plunk needs little introduction save to say that it has an infectious tune that stays in my brain for days after hearing it! It was written as a ‘sequel’ to the equally memorable Jazz Pizzicato. Anderson composed Promenade whilst he was still in the Army – and this is certainly obvious in the military atmosphere of this tune. It is no amble in ‘Central Park before Dark’ but is much more West Point on a passing-out parade day. The Sandpaper Ballet is one of those pieces that every one knows but can never quite put their finger on. I guess it is the rubbing of the various grades of sandpaper replicating the old ‘soft shoe shuffle’ that gives the game away – but just try to recall the title the next time you hear this piece! The Saraband is my least favourite number in this collection – however I know that Anderson’s ‘take’ on the baroque dance –for example, suddenly doubling the speed of the music - is popular in many quarters.

Of Sleigh Ride I need say little – save it is one of the most Christmassy pieces I know of. It makes me dream of the deep snow that we had way back in 1963! Other well-known tunes include The Typewriter with its ‘Oh, so obvious’ sound effect – yet it still makes people smile when they hear it for the umpteenth time. And then there is the Trumpeter’s Lullaby which was composed as a ‘show piece’ for the Boston Pops lead trumpet player – Roger Voisin. The Syncopated Clock was used as a theme tune for the CBS-TVs ‘The Late Show’ and became a ‘household’ jingle. It does not need a listener to be a genius to deduce that Anderson will make the clock ‘tick’ both on and off beat! This is a great tune to wrap up the CD.

However there are two other works that deserve mention. In fact, the Suite of Carols for Brass Choir is the longest work on this disc. Of course, it is the wrong time of year for listening to this kind of music - as it is for the Sleigh Ride - but it was well worth hearing. Leroy Anderson wrote three ‘carol’ suites for a special ‘Holiday’ season album – one for strings, one for winds and the present Suite. Rarely for the composer, this music is almost entirely devoid of the usual ‘fingerprints.’ They are actually well-written, neo-classical arrangements and should be listened to as such. The carols selected include:- In Dulci Jubilo: Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming: I Saw Three Ships: From Heaven High I Come to You; We Three Kings of Orient are and March of the Kings.

And last, but not least, is the arrangement of George Gershwin’s Wintergreen for President. This is a number from the show Of thee I sing which is set in the White House! This is one of the composer’s earliest pieces – but certainly deserves our attention with its ‘bustling manner’.

It is self-evident that Leonard Slatkin and the ‘band’ enjoy themselves playing this music. There is, I guess, an ever-present danger that players could be condescending to Anderson’s music when they have perhaps been wrestling with Mahler, Boulez or Pärt. However, in this recording, every note is taken seriously and every bar is chock-full of ‘pizzazz’.

A great disc – and I am looking forward to what I imagine will be the fourth and final CD?

-- John France, MusicWeb International

Also available - Leroy Anderson: Orchestral Music Vol 1
Jeffrey Biegel's rendition of the terrific Piano Concerto is the best yet. The playing by the BBC Concert Orchestra is relaxed and charming. Under Slatkin's baton the melodies flow effortlessly, and clearly a good time was had by all. -- ClassicsToday.com

Also available - Leroy Anderson: Orchestral Music Vol 2
If you enjoyed Vol. 1 in this ongoing series of Leroy Anderson's warm and beautifully crafted orchestral works, then you'll surely want this release as well. The performances are just as fine, and once again we get several important premieres. Anderson's brand of melodious charm is timeless. -- ClassicsToday.com

Joan Tower's chamber music has much the same emotional intensity and gestural ferocity as her orchestral works. Her primarily angular harmonic language, with its predominantly dissonant cast, evokes a sense of agitation bordering on rage--something most apparent in Wild Purple for solo viola (played with conviction and arresting virtuosity by Paul Neubauer). Like many Tower works, In Memory (in a stunning rendition by the Tokyo String Quartet) begins quietly--the violin's first notes are almost imperceptible--then builds to a gripping climax. The music's emotions are particularly raw and acute, as the composer was inspired by the death of a close friend, and then the 9/11 attacks that occurred shortly after.


Big Sky for piano trio (persuasively performed by Tower, along with Chee-Yun and Andre Emelianoff) has somewhat softer contours. It begins and ends in a subdued, melancholy atmosphere, while the climactic central section jars with its abrupt syncopations fleshed out in robust, quasi-romantic piano writing.


Island Prelude is the most surprising piece in this collection, as it features passages of genuine consonance and even lyricism, as well as some characterful writing for solo oboe (featuring the expert Richard Woodhams with the Tokyo String Quartet). Of course, all of this is woven into Tower's free-flowing, volatile musical style, which quite often catches you off-guard--the very thing that makes her music compelling.


No Longer Very Clear is a set of four piano pieces, the titles of which are lines taken from the John Ashbery poem of the same name. This very intimate encounter with Tower's art reveals a composer of imagination and ingenuity, and one who possesses a profound emotional sensitivity. The piano writing is brilliant and ranges from Scriabinesque passion to the mystery and exotic beauty found in Messiaen. Ursula Oppens (in the first two pieces) and Melvin Chen (in the remainder) both offer powerfully evocative performances. The recordings are uniformly excellent in both the chamber and solo settings. This release marks an important document of the composer, and a fine addition to Naxos' American Classics series. [9/16/2005]
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

Although it's played and recorded frequently, there is a genuine difference between a decent performance of Rodeo and a really excellent one such as we have here. This difference can be summed up in two words: rhythm and tempo. When it comes to rhythm, it's not merely a question of hitting the syncopations in the opening movement and concluding Hoedown, but of being both accurate and relaxed enough to let the music swing. This is a quality that Bernstein's performances always had, and JoAnn Falletta understands it too. This gives the music both the necessary verve in the outer sections and real balletic grace in the two inner ones, reminding us that we are, after all, hearing a story told through physical movement.


When it comes to tempo, the issue is at once simpler and less impressionistic. In Buckaroo Holiday, speeds have to be quick enough to prevent the music from breaking up into discrete, detached bits. Once again, Falletta & Co. come through with flying colors. The music never sounds mechanical, disconnected, or excessively "Stravinskian". Copland disliked excessive sentimentality, but his music is never dry (the rich, warm, but clear sonics also help in this department). And what turns out to be a successful recipe for Rodeo works just as well in all of the other pieces here. Prairie Journal (a.k.a. Music for Radio) is one of the least known of Copland's "Westerns", but it's every bit as enjoyable as the three great ballets, and this is as fine a performance as you will hear anywhere. Letter from Home is an exercise in nostalgia that never turns overly sweet.


Best of all, perhaps, is The Red Pony, one of the great film scores of all time, and a glorious work that for some reason seldom gets played live. Copland's invention is of exceptionally high quality throughout, and once again you can hear from the unusual freshness of the opening bars how effortlessly Falletta and the Buffalo players get into the spirit of the music. There are so many delightful moments, from the raucous Circus Music to the unforgettable Walk to the Bunkhouse, a piece that has become the very essence of musical Americana. Finally, it's great to see one of the very popular pieces, like Rodeo, coupled with some less ubiquitous examples of Copland's genius. A wonderful disc! [10/20/2006]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Howard Hanson's music shows the same lifelong dedication to the promotion of a uniquely American style in concert music that led to the foundation of the Institute of American Music of the Eastman School during Hanson's forty year tenure as Director. His style is unabashedly romantic, building on the groundwork of his most admired non-American composers, Respighi and Sibelius. This is most apparent in his First Symphony, written while he was a student of Respighi, showing a similarly grand orchestration.
The Nashville Symphony Orchestra conducted by Kenneth Schermerhorn round out the All-American theme of this Naxos release, from their American Classics series. Their version of Hanson's first symphony reverberates with fervor and tenderness. They capture the playful mood of Hanson's "Merry Mount" Suite in a sprightly rendition. The NSO also perform Hanson's tone poem "Pan and the Priest" and the obscure "Rhythmic Variations on Two Ancient Hymns" from a recently re-discovered score.

Includes work(s) by Johann Sebastian Bach, George Frideric Handel, Domenico Scarlatti, Johann Pachelbel, Antonio Vivaldi, Arcangelo Corelli.