Luigi Mancinelli was a noted conductor, composer, and cellist. Over the course of his productive life (1848-1921) he became an important exponent of Verdi, Puccini, and Wagner, while living long enough to dip his toes into some of the earliest examples of film music. The two movements (out of six) from his incidental music to Cleopatra date from 1877 and show great promise. The Overture is dramatic, with memorable thematic material, while the Battaglia di Azio is simple in form and concept, but effective enough. It must have worked well in the theater.

Scene veneziane supposedly also dates from 1877, but wasn’t performed until 1889. I have my doubts about the alleged date of composition, for even if correct the work reveals an amazingly advanced orchestral technique as compared to Cleopatra. The very opening strikingly anticipates the start of Respighi’s Three Botticelli Pictures of some 50 years later (1927), and timbral nuances such as using the harp as a melody instrument, doubling the winds, reveal Mancinelli as a highly sophisticated composer. The work tells a love story, beginning with a brilliant carnival and continuing with such moments as a declaration of love, a gondola ride, and concluding ceremonial music (amazingly like a Bruckner adagio) leading to a joyful dance. It’s great fun, and a real find.

Francesco La Vecchia, as usual in this series, leads a vivacious performance, perhaps a bit roughly played in spots by the Rome Symphony’s brass, but exciting and enjoyable nonetheless. The sonics are brightly lit and have a bit too much of the “empty hall” effect, but are in all other respects perfectly adequate. A very enjoyable disc from a composer who achieved quite a bit, and deserves a hearing.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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Even the most casual of Fanfare readers cannot fail to note the regularity with which even its most experienced contributors encounter composers they’ve never heard of before, many of them worthy of far more respect and recognition than they commonly get. Such a case faces this writer once again—an Italian by the name of Luigi Mancinelli. Discounting a couple of songs buried in large anthologies, the only previous Mancinelli music to be found in the Fanfare Archive was published 22 years ago, when David Johnson reviewed the complete incidental music to Cleopatra and the Romantic Overture (14:6).


Mancinelli is better known to posterity as a conductor than as a composer, including many years at Covent Garden and the Met, but he did leave a fairly substantial catalog of works that includes several operas. Johnson was not much taken with Mancinelli’s music, fairly damning it with faint praise, but I beg to differ. The opening bars of the Scene veneziane suggest nothing less than the Respighi of The Birds or The Pines of Rome —bright, sparkling sounds of a master orchestrator. Elsewhere we hear a grand, stately, and well-developed theme that could well have been a passage from an Elgar score marked with his trademark Nobilmente . Other moments have the touch of Glazunov. I have avoided mentioning Mancinelli’s dates (1845-1921) until now because the irony is that he preceded all the composers whose names I’ve just dropped. Also, as Johnson noted, Mancinelli, like Toscanini (also Italian), “began his musical life as a cellist and got his first big break by substituting at the podium for an indisposed conductor at a performance of Aida. ” Again, Mancinelli did not follow in Toscanini’s footsteps, but rather preceded the more famous maestro.


The present CD is billed as the world premiere recording of the complete Scene veneziane (Venetian Scenes, 1877). The five scenes, totaling 36 minutes, include the opening portrayal of a carnival; a love scene characterized by delicately intertwining woodwinds and a glowing, lyrical theme; the merry scurrying as indicated by the title “Flight of the Lovers to Chioggia” (again we find an anticipation of a later composer, here the Prokofiev of Romeo and Juliet ); an evocative gondola ride; and the final 13-minute scene depicting the processional wedding music, a return to the love scene and a rousing conclusion.


The Overture and “Battle of Actium” are two of the six symphonic interludes Mancinelli composed for a production of Pietro Cossa’s Cleopatra (also in 1877). The program notes describe the 10-minute Overture as “a fitting prelude to a tale of love, orgiastic excesses and the violence of war,” an assessment with which I fully concur. It has its share of bombast but also some stirring tunes; Wagner’s Rienzi might have served as its model. At 12 minutes, the “Battle of Actium” stands as a tone poem in its own right, a vivid depiction of that famous navel encounter complete with evocations of the sea, approaching rival fleets, the confusion of battle, and the love music that accompanies the flight of Anthony and Cleopatra. Through its use of recurring motifs, structural integrity and inspired orchestration, it is at least as good as most of Liszt’s tone poems.


Marta Marullo provides a fairly extensive biography of the composer as well as good, detailed program notes about the music in the inlay booklet, which is unfortunately rendered almost unreadable by the dense, tiny print. The Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma is a fine ensemble, conducted with verve and sensitivity by Francesco la Vecchia. If you need an obscure new composer in your life, I can heartily recommend Luigi Mancinelli.

FANFARE: Robert Markow

Max Reger's special position within organ repertoire places him for many as the greatest composer for the instrument since J. S. Bach. Drawing on Lutheran tradition, his Fantasia and Fugue, Op. 29 is in the spirit of Bach, though with a characteristic harmonic language which also infuses the varying complexity in the Monologues, Op. 63. The Sonata No. 1, Op. 33 reflects a connection with Liszt, concluding in an impressive Passacaglia. Award winning German organist Christian Barthen performs on an instrument from Reger's period, the 1911 Steinmeyer Organ in Mannheim which is one of the biggest in Germany.

Acclaimed concert artist and laureate of numerous awards, Mabel Millán brings her stunning technique and remarkable musical expressiveness to this programme of some of the most spectacular and best-loved repertoire ever composed for the guitar. From the Andalusian rhythms and atmosphere of Turina and Malats, the Romantic expressiveness and national colors of Ponce and Mertz, to the lyrical beauty and dramatic virtuosity of Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s Capriccio diabolico, every aspect of the guitar’s refined delicacy and explosive dynamism is explored here to the full.

Architetture (‘Architectures’), a concerto for orchestra in seven linked sections, was the piece that catapulted the Italian composer Giorgio Federico Ghedini to fame in his home country at the late age of 48. On this disc it is coupled with two more of his finest orchestral works. The powerful atmosphere and stunning orchestral effects of Marinaresca e baccanale (‘Sea Piece and Bacchanale’), written several years earlier, prove that Ghedini’s belated recognition was fully deserved. Contrappunti (‘Counterpoints’), which Ghedini composed much later in life, finds him responding to the inspiration of one of his lifelong musical heroes, Beethoven.

Helmut Walcha was one of the most influential organists of the 20th century. His Chorale Preludes are works of considerable expressiveness and polyphonic clarity, which enrich the Lutheran tradition by combining the characteristics of the Baroque masters with highly individual organ colors and sonorities. This is the final volume of this first complete recording of Walcha's organ works.

It was a pivotal meeting in the mid-1920s that marked the beginning of an enduring musical and personal friendship between Alexandre Tansman and the Spanish virtuoso guitarist Andres Segovia. Tansman’s legacy for the instrument ranges over a 57-year period, inaugurated by a dazzling Mazurka and represents Segovia’s ‘most advanced commitment to modern music.’ This first volume presents suites and dances inspired by Italy, Poland and Eastern Europe, and includes Suite in modo polonico, heard here in its original version, not the Segovia-authorized collage. Andrea De Vitis has meticulously researched the original manuscripts to resolve any doubts and omissions in published editions.

Helmut Walcha was one of the most influential organists of the 20th century. His Chorale Preludes stand as a testament to his enrichment of the Lutheran tradition, building on the inheritance of Baroque masters to create works of great expressive clarity and contrapuntal transparency, as well as introducing highly individual organ colors and sonorities. Volumes 1 and 2 of this four volume complete collection can be found on Naxos 8.572910 and 8.572911.

Here, offering a further six concertos, is the latest instalment in Naxos’s recording of Vivaldi’s 37 bassoon concertos; 39 if one counts two incomplete specimens. Those who have invested in earlier volumes in the series (see below), all recorded by the same forces, will know to expect the enjoyable, fluent performances that are to be heard here.

The Nicolaus Esterházy Sinfonia use modern instruments but, under the direction of Béla Drahos they play with a crisp articulation that is, for the most part, stylistically convincing. Benkócs is a very fine bassoonist indeed, both technically extremely accomplished and musically imaginative. The outer movements – all six are in three movements, fast-slow-fast – frequently call for considerable fleetness of finger and certainty of breath control and Benkócs is never found wanting. There is rapid-fire virtuosity when needed and many delightfully dancing passages. In the slow movements Benkócs plays with lyrical expressivity, elegantly poignant and reflective in music which, as so often in the slow movements of Vivaldi’s concertos has a distinctly operatic feel about it.

Every one of these concertos offers things of real interest – Vivaldi’s musical imagination seems unflagging. There’s the way, for example, in which the opening allegro of RV 477 contrasts the tenor and bass registers of the solo instrument; or the dotted rhythms of the bassoon in the largo of RV 499. Or, particularly pleasant, the final allegro of RV 494 which is full of ingenious twists and turns.

It is puzzling that Vivaldi should have written quite so many concertos for the bassoon – the bassoon wasn’t generally a fashionable solo instrument in this period. Perhaps he wrote them for a specific instrumentalist; if so the identity of that musician remains unknown; certainly Vivaldi demonstrates a thorough understanding of the instrument’s possibilities. Whatever the circumstances which prompted the composition of these concertos, they certainly constitute a rewarding body of music and one of the many demonstrations of Vivaldi’s remarkable ability to produce seemingly infinite variations (and there really is variety here) on a basically simple formula.

A graduate of the Franz Liszt Academy of Music in Budapest, Tamás Benkócs is a member of the Budapest Festival Orchestra. I haven’t encountered any other recordings by him outside this Naxos series of the Vivaldi concertos. He is such a fine player that it is to be hoped that he will go onto record more of the bassoon repertoire.

The one reservation – though it is not one that spoils my pleasure in the CDs – that I about this series concerns the rather understated penny-plain continuo, where the concertos would certainly benefit from greater embellishment. Very decent as the contribution of the Nicolaus Esterházy Sinfonia and Béla Drahos is, I would love to hear Benkócs playing these works with one of the best specialist baroque ensembles.

On balance though, this is an eminently worthwhile and enjoyable series, and this latest volume continues the good work begun by its predecessors. The recorded sound is pleasingly clear and well balanced.

-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International

Ulvi Cemal Erkin was one of the ‘Turkish Five’, contemporaries who established the foundations of twentieth-century Turkish music by combining Western forms with their own folk traditions. His most performed work is Kocekce, a dance suite inspired by the traditional kocek dancers of his native country. The Violin Concerto employs a classical Western structure but also includes a taksim section in its final movement, typical of improvisatory Turkish violin music. The evocative Symphony No. 2 is the apex of Erkin’s symphonic works, its last movement consisting entirely of folk tunes he himself discovered.

This disc received the 2001 Gramophone magazine award for "Best Chamber Recording."

Salon Orchestra Favourites, Vol. 3

The precociously gifted Korngold followed in the footsteps of the great late romantic composers Richard Strauss, Mahler and Pfitzner, his unwavering commitment to refined melody, ravishing harmony and formal coherence earning him the reputation of a musical genius.

This fifth disc in the Naxos series of the complete Schumann Lieder features one of the key works of the entire 19th century song repertoire, Frauenliebe und -leben. Written during the summer of 1840 at a time when Schumann and his wife-to-be Clara were fighting in court over the right to marry.

Recording information: Warsaw Philharmonic Concert Hall, Poland (09/24/2008-09/27/2008); Warsaw Philharmonic Concert Hall, Poland (09/30/2008); Warsaw Philharmonic Concert Hall, Poland (12/03/2008-12/04/2008).

HAYDN Piano Trios: No. 24 in D; No. 25 in G; No. 26 in f?; No. 31 in e? • Kungsbacka Pn Trio • NAXOS 8.572040 (52: 35)


This disc offers an intriguing set of paradoxes. But let’s first state that it is quite wonderful. The Adagio cantabile of Trio No. 26 is that of the Adagio of Haydn’s Symphony No. 102—and yet it is not. The notes are very much the same; one easily follows the symphony’s score during the trio, translating the first violin part to the piano and the winds to the violin. But the movement now makes a totally different impression, sweet and calm instead of solid and intense. This is not just the performance, and the Kungsbacka demonstrates elsewhere that it can be appropriately intense. In its complete set, Haydn Trio Eisenstadt (which I admire greatly) hews close to the symphony’s Adagio, and it just doesn’t work.


As I seem to repeat in every issue, there is no single right way to play Haydn, assuming competence and taste. This ensemble produces the impression of period practice, and yet Simon Crawford Phillips’s piano is clearly a modern grand. He achieves delicate, pearl-like tones in Haydn’s rising and falling phrases, but he sometimes pounds cadences in codas. These performances are thoughtful and relaxed (the andantes are especially lovely), with little of the sparkle of the Beaux Arts Trio’s recordings—which are in turn seldom contemplative and can wear one down with their consistent flash. Each complements the other, and many recordings lie in between; yet the Kungsbacka races through the presto “Hungarian Rondo” of No. 25 as fast as any group. If you prefer one complete set, I recommend Haydn Trio Eisenstadt on Phoenix Edition ( Fanfare 32:5). I prefer the variety of multiple ensembles, and these four trios mesh neatly with a disc of Nos. 21–23 by Trio 1790 on cpo (Complete Piano Trios Vol. 4) and Nos. 27–30 by Robert Levin, Vera Beths, and Anner Byslma on Sony. Add to these PentaTone’s two-SACD set of nine early trios by the Beaux Arts: no duplications, and you get both modern and period instruments.


FANFARE: James H. North

Exceptionally elegant performances from a first rate band of musicians.

Although it is for his instrumental music, primarily symphonies, string quartets and works for solo piano that Josef Haydn is most known, he was quite given to writing for voices and left behind a sizeable output of operas, twelve authenticated masses and numerous other settings of sacred texts for choir, soloists and orchestra. This program gives us his first and last words in the mass genre, one by an exuberant boy of seventeen the other by a tired and weary old man, although one could never discern the composer’s fatigue by listening to the music.

The Missa Brevis in F is a little gem of economy, with Haydn sailing through the wordy Credo in under three minutes, a feat he accomplished by stacking phrases of the text on top of one another and distributing them throughout the voice parts. The unusual scoring for only two solo voices, both sopranos might have been a vehicle for he and his brother Michael, though it does stretch belief a bit to think of a seventeen year old with an unchanged voice.

The Harmoniemesse is one of Haydn’s final works, written for the birthday celebrations of the Esterhazy Princess in 1802. The composer soon took his leave of the Esterhazy family after decades of service and although he lived another seven years, he did little composing after this period. There is no evidence in this joyful and exuberant mass that Haydn was at all ill. In fact, his later masses have been criticized over the years for their joyous optimism, and sometimes overly upbeat settings of the more reflective and serious parts of the texts. Be that as it may, this is a masterpiece, beautifully augmented by the full complement of wind instruments that give the mass its nickname of “harmonie.”

These are performances of divinely understated elegance. Singing from the choir is dead in tune and beautifully balanced. Phrases are splendidly shaped and tempo choices are spot on. The Trinity Choir is full of fine soloists, and there is some magnificent singing from sopranos Ann Hoyt and Julie Liston is the Missa Brevis. The Rebel Baroque Orchestra is a tight band of precision players. The clarity of their playing, especially in fast passages is without flaw. The one and only defect in this production is the lack of texts and translations in the booklet. The program notes are informative and interesting and not loaded with blow by blow descriptions of the music.

These are performances of almost text-book perfection and will be a delight to any lover of choral music. With really nothing to criticize, I can say nothing more but go add this fine recording to your library.

-- Kevin Sutton, MusicWeb International

An enterprising and convincing set of performances; Naxos rescues another neglected composer.

I was somewhat lukewarm about Elizabeth Farr’s recording of the Bach solo harpsichord concertos (Naxos 8.572006-7), largely because I found the use of the 16' stop on her Keith Hill harpsichord obtrusive. I ended that review by fearing that there would be an even greater problem with the use of such an instrument on this Balbastre recording, since, by Hill’s own admission “no French harpsichords with 16' stops remain from [this] time.”

Since writing that review, I have read another review of the Bach which doesn’t even mention the offending stop, so, clearly, not everyone is going to be troubled by it. Paradoxically, too, though I dislike its use in Bach, where there is some historical evidence to support its use, I was less unhappy to hear it employed for Balbastre, where the evidence is non-existent. De gustibus non est disputandum.

We aren’t exactly well off for recordings of Balbastre: there seems currently to be only one other recording completely dedicated to his music, a 2-CD set of what Glossa call his ‘Salon Music’, another recital of his keyboard music by Mitzi Meyerson (fortepiano and harpsichord, GCD921803), on which much of the music, including the Marche des Marseillois et Ça-ira from Elizabeth Farr’s recording, are duplicated. Otherwise, we have just odd pieces by him on collections, especially on anthologies of that French Christmas phenomenon the instrumental Noël.

Naxos have on their website an interview with Elizabeth Farr, headed ‘My passion is my profession’, in which she speaks of her marvel at the creativity and individuality of the music of the eighteenth century. I’m not sure that I find Balbastre’s music quite as individual as that – perhaps you have to know it as thoroughly as Farr clearly does to distinguish it from that of Rameau or François Couperin – but her performances certainly make a strong case for its inventiveness and attractiveness. The interview was conducted before she set down the recent Bach recording and this of Balbastre, but her love of his music and her understanding of it are apparent from the CDs.

I queried some of Farr’s tempi on the Bach CDs: by comparison with Robert Woolley on Hyperion, some of them sound rather erratic. I wonder if I would have been as critical if I had not had Woolley’s recordings of some of those works for comparison, though I note that the reviewer who seemed untroubled by the use of 16' tone also referred to the problematic tempi.

Not having heard any rival recordings of any significant portion of Balbastre’s repertoire, I can’t make comparisons as I did with Bach. I can only say that I found the playing here much more convincing than I did before. I do just note en passant, however, that Farr’s timings seem to differ from Meyerson’s, sometimes considerably slower, sometimes faster. The brief excerpts which are all that I have been able to hear from those Glossa CDs serve as a reminder that Meyerson alternates between the fortepiano and the harpsichord, which you may find makes for more variety; equally, you may be irritated by repeated change from one instrument to the other. Also, Farr plays the pieces in the order in which they appear in print; Meyerson rearranges them.

Two CDs of this repertoire may look like a case of over-egging the pudding, but I didn’t find it so. If you like the keyboard music of Rameau and Couperin, you should find these CDs to your liking. Indeed, the concluding tracks of CD1 (trs.13-16) offer music from Rameau’s 1748 opera Pygmalion, arranged by Balbastre for the keyboard. Such arrangements, like the wind-band conflations of Mozart’s operas, served as souvenirs for those who had heard the original and as tasters for those who had not. This is some of the most dramatic music on the CDs; the tone of the Overture is particularly well caught here.

Most of the rest of the music is as benign and affable as Balbastre’s second name would imply. I don’t wish to imply, however, that it sounds derivative or banal; as the notes point out, the French harpsichord tradition is modified by the influence of Scarlatti.

The pieces from Book I of the Pièces de clavecin are character portraits. The whole book is dedicated to his pupil Mme de la Caze and her portrait opens the collection and the first of these CDs. It’s a strong piece, though with moments of tenderness, and the contrast between it and its successor on track 2, la d’Héricourt, is well brought out by Farr. Indeed, such variety as there is in the music – probably more apparent to contemporaries than to modern listeners – is well conveyed in these performances.

The last of the aristocratic portraits here is la d’Esclignac of 1787 (CD1, tr.12). The revolution two years later put paid to Balbastre’s employment as a composer of salon pieces; he was to die in poverty ten years later. The final work on the second CD (tr.16) represents his attempt to come to terms with the new régime, a set of variations of the revolutionary tunes la Marseillaise and Ça ira (we will succeed). As played here, it makes a fine conclusion to a recommendable set; I was very happy to pardon the liberty which Elizabeth Farr admits in the notes of repeating la Marseillaise at the end. Meyerson plays the piece as written, which is less dramatic, though you may think her use here of the newer instrument, the fortepiano, more appropriate for music written after the demise of the ancien régime.

The Naxos recording is a little close for my liking, but it captures the big sound of the instrument well – at times in that final Marche the bass sonorities almost sound like those of a grand piano. The documentation is informative and readable and sets the seal on a recommendable pair of CDs.

-- Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International

Described by USA Today as 'one of Penderecki' most colorful and extroverted ', the Credo is a sweeping, lavishly scored and highly Romantic setting of the Catholic profession of faith.

I have to confess, I seldom listen to these pieces. Not because everyone agrees that they aren't "great" Mozart, but because most performances usually fall into one of two equally loathsome categories, which for convenience we may call Flutezilla vs. The Antiques Road Show. First, there is Flutezilla--the ego-boosting display of some star soloist who simply must record these concertos because Mozart wrote them and, let's face it, no other great composer between the Baroque period and the 20th century cared enough about the flute to even attempt to compose anything similarly worth playing. These productions usually feature the soloist blasting away on an instrument over-miked to the point where, regarding balance with the orchestra, it offers the aural equivalent of Godzilla stomping on teeny tiny Tokyo--"Tokyo" in this case being represented by a bargain-basement ensemble (I Solisti di Fresno, perhaps?) usually bored out of its mind, led by a no-talent, no-name conductor for whom excitement means having everyone start and end more or less at the same time (never mind what happens along the way). More than a few great flutists have thus been defeated by these lovely, unassuming works when played and recorded in such a fashion.


Then there's The Antiques Road Show. This more recent, second batch of vile recordings comes from those terribly earnest period-instrument folks. Here it's the flutist who's usually the one with no name and no talent, as well as no timbre and no intonation, playing some "authentically replicated copy" of an 18th-century wooden atrocity impressively designated as a "flauto traverso" or some such--as if it makes one iota of difference if the player blows the ghastly thing sideways, front-ways, backwards, upside down, or under water. Any way you slice it, the instrument sounds like a whistling tea-kettle in distress, with far more hiss of escaping air than musical tone. But in this case, the soloist has the backing of some "très à la mode" period-instrument pick-up band attacking the music with a sadistically ferocious ideological fervor more appropriate to the Manson family or the Symbionese Liberation Army than to a proper chamber orchestra. Naturally the soloist doesn't stand a chance, and given the appalling quality of the instrument in question, this probably is a good thing when all is said and done.


All of which is a long way of saying that I have no hesitation in declaring this to be the finest recording of Mozart's flute concertos currently available, and believe me, I've suffered through most of them. It has everything: a first rate soloist, a marvelous orchestra obviously mindful of period practice but playing modern instruments, an intelligently added harpsichord continuo (especially wonderful as a foil to the timbre of the harp), and boundless enthusiasm from all concerned. It's captured by Naxos in excellently balanced, warm, pellucidly clear sound. All it takes is about 10 seconds' listening to any single movement in any of these three works to make the outstanding quality of the musicianship self evident. The Swedish Chamber Orchestra launches the opening Allegro aperto of the Second Concerto (wisely placed first on the disc) with infectious rhythmic drive, and from the moment of Patrick Gallois' joyous, chirping entrance the performance flies by like a force of nature.


Listen to how characterfully the horn and oboe parts contribute to the opening tutti of the Concerto for Flute and Harp, and to the lively and luscious interplay between harpist Fabrice Pierre and Gallois throughout their many exchanges over the course of the movement. Taut rhythms and vivid accents keep the ear consistently engaged from first note to last. The long central Adagio of the First concerto is so beautiful that you easily could enjoy it for another nine minutes, and Gallois' cadenzas in all three works never outstay their welcome, being as fresh and pithy as Mozart's own music. No praise could be higher than to note how, in the same concerto's concluding Tempo di Menuetto, so often a dreary chore in other performances, Gallois & Cie manage to find a tempo both stately, as befits a minuet, but also energetically forward-moving, as befits a concerto finale. Really there's no reason to own any other version of this music, particularly given Naxos' budget price. As for the recording(s) already in your collection, they'll make a classy set of coasters. [11/15/2003]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

A charming disc full of charming music, these light Elgar works seem to come and go in the catalog, undeservedly so. Like most great composers Elgar lavished as much care on his miniatures as he did on his large-scale productions, and some listeners may well prefer to enjoy his lyrical gifts and vivid orchestration in this easily digestible form. The performances are uniformly excellent, offering both lightness ("Fairy Pipers", "Little Bells", "The Merry Doll") and rambunctious high spirits ("The Wild Bears", "The Wagon (Passes)") where appropriate. James Judd's tempos tend to be a little slower than, say, Charles Mackerras' on his otherwise excellent Argo disc containing much of the same repertoire, but the music never drags and it's all easeful good fun. The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra plays with obvious care and affection, and the recorded sound lives up to the current high standards coming from this source. The Judd/New Zealand partnership has given Naxos some of its best discs, and this one is no exception. --David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This recording contains four of Schubert's 12 piano sonatas that survive in fragmentary form. Notwithstanding their varied states of incompletion, the works are well worth getting to know for their harmonic daring and melodic strength. Beethoven's Appassionata, for instance, casts a strong shadow over the F minor sonata's finale, although its unpredictable modulations and thematic detours are vintage Schubert. Listeners who know the E-flat Sonata D. 568 will be fascinated to encounter this earlier, more difficult D-flat major incarnation, minus the minuet and trio Schubert added later. All three movements of the A-flat D. 557 sonata exist intact and include a delightful Allegro whose opening theme would manifest itself more fully in the familiar "little" A major D. 664 sonata.


Many attempts have been made to complete these works, yet pianist Gottlieb Wallisch performs them as they stand. (Consequently, the F minor sonata's opening Allegro suddenly trails off and vanishes at the start of the recapitulation.) As a Schubert pianist, though, Wallisch is quite complete! He plays the A-flat sonata marginally faster than Kempff and with greater brio all around, and his winged, pliable accounts of the F minor's first three movements contrast to the statuesque Richter versions. But the Russian pianist's long-lined power in the finale surpasses Wallisch's smaller-scaled note-spinning. For the most part, however, Wallisch's solid technique and sound musicianship operate on a high level and benefit from Naxos' top-notch engineering. Wallisch also provides his own excellent, informative booklet notes. Highly recommended for Schubertians of every stripe. [7/6/2004]
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Acclaimed as 'a most nimble and clean fingered soloist', Pedro Casals is an ideal interpreter of Manuel Blasco de Nebra' delightful keyboard music.

Following the release of their highly praised Naxos recording of Faure' Piano Quintets - 'warmly expressive, their phrasing generous and intense' - Cristina Ortiz and the Fine Arts Quartet again join forces for this recording of Franck' Piano Quintet.

Frank Bridge is today recognized as one of the most gifted figures in British musical life before World War I. His Piano Quintet, a work of personal significance prompted by the absence of his fiancee, is notable for its passionate, lyrical, and forceful language, the Rachmaninov-like technical demands of the piano part calling for a virtuoso pianist. Debussy described Cyril Scott's exotic harmonic language as "an intoxication for the ear", and the First Piano Quintet is a multi-faceted work that mirrors Scott's flamboyant public persona while maintaining a genuinely poetic inner beauty.

Myroslav Skoryk holds the title of People’s Artist of Ukraine and is one of his country’s outstanding composers. Both the Cello Concerto and the Seventh Violin Concerto combine bittersweet lyricism with explosive dynamic contrasts. With its swinging rhythms and folk music pungency the Carpathian Concerto is one of Skoryk’s most engaging and popular works. The pensive Melody for strings propelled him to the forefront of Ukrainian music, while the slapstick in his transcription of Paganini’s Caprice No. 19 reveals the composer’s humorous side. These live recordings were made at Myroslav Skoryk’s 75th anniversary concerts in Odessa.

This new release makes a distinguished follow-up to Laura Mikkola's Naxos recording of Rautavaara's First Piano Concerto. When works are new, as these are, it's always fascinating to listen to previous recordings and compare. The Third Piano Concerto, composed for Ashkenazy and recorded by him for Ondine, benefits from having a conductor independent of the pianist. Eri Klas leads a performance more flexible in tempo than Ashkenazy's, though I find him to be marginally the finer pianist, especially in the Adagio assai central movement, where his playing reveals a finer touch, just as the Helsinki Philharmonic is marginally the superior orchestra despite the fact that this newcomer offers more clarity of orchestral detail. Similarly, in the Second Piano Concerto Ralf Gothoni's ever-so-slightly more impulsive way with the music strikes me as preferable to Mikkola's otherwise quite admirable effort, while Klas provides her a finer accompaniment than does Jukka-Pekka Saraste and the Bavarian Radio band for Gothoni (while still being very good). Isle of Bliss is beautifully done, though it does not sing quite as well as Segerstam's Helsinki rendition for Ondine.


Because of the ease of comparison, all of this may sound as if Klas and Mikkola's efforts amount to "second best" performances, but that really isn't true. The differences between them and the only available competition are very small, and very much a matter of personal preference. By any standard, these newcomers do full justice to this lovely music. Furthermore, Mikkola is a first-class artist with a fine sense of the music's flow and a terrific technique to boot: listen to the admirable independence of right and left hands in the Third Concerto's finale, for example, a couple of minutes into the movement.


She's also very well recorded. As suggested above, the orchestral textures have greater transparency here than they do on the Ondine recordings, if perhaps not as much warmth and tonal richness. In the final analysis, I can recommend this disc without reservation, even while acknowledging the fact (not always true, of course) that the premiere recordings of the two concertos by the artists for whom they were originally composed still convey a certain special authority. But if those performances establish the works as worthy additions to the Rautavaara canon, then these attest to their ongoing viability as repertoire items, and that's every bit as important.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

KLETZKI Piano Concerto 1; 3 Preludes; 3 Pieces; Fantasy in c • Joseph Banowetz (pn); 1 Thomas Sanderling, cond; 1 Russian PO • NAXOS 8.572190 (75:12)


Having been mightily impressed by a recording of Paul Kletzki’s Third Symphony and Flute Concertino on a BIS CD reviewed in Fanfare 28:3, I requested to review this new Naxos release of the composer’s works, figuring if I ended up not liking it, I’d have only myself to blame. As it turned out, I did like what I heard, quite a lot in fact. Kletzki (1900–73) was one of a handful of composers-turned-conductors who was at least as talented, if not more so, at creating his own music as he was at re-creating the music of others.


The 30-year-old Jewish Kletzki was still living in Germany when he wrote his D-Minor Piano Concerto in 1930. The piece was fully orchestrated by the composer, but it was published only in a two-piano version; and subsequently, it’s believed, the full score was destroyed during the Hitler regime, which explains the new orchestration by John Norine Jr.


Kletzki was either incredibly naive or incredibly unlucky. He fled from Nazi Germany to Italy, only to end up in the anti-Semitic hotbed of Mussolini’s Fascists. From that kettle he jumped into the frying pan of Soviet Russia during Stalin’s Great Terror. He finally found freedom from persecution in Switzerland, where he sought refuge in 1936, but not from the years of wandering that still lay ahead. Over the course of nearly the next four decades, Kletzki accepted appointments to lead orchestras in the U.K. (the Liverpool Philharmonic), the U.S. (the Dallas Symphony Orchestra), Israel (the Israel Philharmonic), Italy (La Scala), and Switzerland (the Lucerne Festival Orchestra and later the Suisse Romande Orchestra), but the engagements never turned into long-term, permanent marriages. Having lost several family members in the Holocaust, Kletzki lost his will to compose and wrote nothing further after 1942.


The loss is ours. Despite its overlay of “adventurous” harmonies, piquant dissonances, and complex rhythms, the Piano Concerto is, at its core, a deeply romantic and profoundly moving work. I’d go so far as to call it a masterpiece. To describe its general style and sound, I’d have to say that Prokofiev’s piano concertos are to the fore. Similarities abound in passages of percussive keyboard writing and lyrical melodies intentionally soured by passing bitonal harmonic progressions. But Kletzki is not quite as acerbic as Prokofiev can be at his most caustic, and Kletzki’s concerto contains many other extended passages that could pass for moments out of Miklós Rósza’s score to Ben-Hur . I wouldn’t quite put this piece in the grand virtuoso piano concerto tradition of Polish composers Moszkowski and Paderewski (Kletzki was also of Polish birth); it’s too late for that, as it is for Rachmaninoff. But it seems to inhabit a world somewhere between them and the concertos of Prokofiev and Martin??a beautiful addition to the recorded repertoire.


As for the remaining pieces on the disc, all for solo piano, one has to assume from hearing them that Kletzki was more than just a competent pianist. These are virtuosic works that sound extremely difficult to play, yet in the hands of Joseph Banowetz they emerge articulate, lucid, eloquent, and authoritative. The Three Preludes were written in 1923. Florid and fluid in their lyrical poetry, Chopin is their “godfather.” From the following year comes the Fantasy in C Minor, a substantial and substantive 19-minute work that is highly improvisatory-sounding and rhapsodic in nature. The model here, if there is one, is less clearly identifiable, though I can swear I hear the influence of Brahms’s piano rhapsodies and late keyboard pieces. Among the very last works Kletzki would write before giving up on composing are the three unpublished piano pieces, dating from 1940 or 1941. Less busy and more introspective, the music now takes on the patina of a kind of soft Impressionistic cocktail lounge jazz. I don’t mean anything disparaging by this; it’s just a way of describing and conveying to the reader how these pieces strike my ear.


Banowetz is a Grammy-nominated American pianist who has been acclaimed by others in these pages as “one of the preeminent ‘three B’s of Liszt playing’” and as “a giant among keyboard artists of our time,” though I confess I wasn’t able to find the latter citation in the archive. Nonetheless, Banowetz has racked up a very impressive discography with no fewer than 22 discs for Naxos alone, and his repertoire includes some of the most demanding works in the piano literature, for example, Busoni’s Fantasia contrappuntistica . Based on his playing on the present CD, I’d have to say that the acclaim he has received is well deserved.


This is an outstanding recording that should do much to advance Kletzki’s reputation as a serious composer, and it is sure to further enhance Banowetz’s reputation as well. The concerto was recorded in September 2006, in Studio 5 of the Russian State TV & Radio Company. The remaining tracks on the disc were recorded in January 2007, at Skywalker Sound in Marin County, California. However, there is little in the way of discrepant balances or sonic differences between the two venues. A superb job all around, and strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Includes work(s) for piano by Bohuslav Martinu. Soloist: Giorgio Koukl.

Includes symphony(-ies) by Johann Baptist Vanhal. Ensemble: Toronto Chamber Orchestra. Conductor: Kevin Mallon.

The guitar is ideal for lyrical romanticism, and always has been in its long history. But its clarity and fluency of line also provide scope for contrapuntal complexity characterized in the baroque era by the master works of J.S. Bach. The intimate voice of the guitar lends itself to every epoch and within this selection we move from the eighteenth century to the Napoleonic period, and then to Francisco Tárrega, the high priest of guitar expressiveness, and, in the twentieth century, to the profoundly Italian inspiration of Castelnuovo-Tedesco. Also represented here are the elegant musical statements of a modern virtuoso, José María Gallardo del Rey, a contemporary guitarist/ composer. The richness of textures to be found throughout is truly remarkable, proving once again that a guitar is appropriate for all seasons and for so many varied moods and emotions.