Alfred Hill was the doyen of Australasian composers, and his exploration of the string quartet demonstrates the range of his imagination. Both the Tenth and Eleventh quartets were written in 1935, but they offer richly differing affiliations.

ALFVÉN Synnøve Solbakken. En Bygdesaga. Elegy at Emil Sjögren’s Funeral • Niklas Willén, cond; Norrköping SO • NAXOS 8.557828 (73:12)


Niklas Willén’s Alfvén survey for Naxos continues apace with the sixth release in a series that has already covered the composer’s five symphonies plus assorted miscellaneous works with four different orchestras. This puts Willén and Naxos in head-to-head competition with Neeme Järvi on BIS in a survey that has the possible advantage of a single orchestra—the Stockholm Philharmonic.


With this latest installment, Willén mines Alfvén’s rich vein of music for film and stage. Originally screened in Stockholm in 1934, Synnøve Solbakken is a recasting of sorts of the Romeo and Juliet theme, but this time with a happy ending: boy and girl fall in love, but there’s bad blood between the parents. Boy is stabbed and temporarily paralyzed, but experiences an amazing Freudian recovery when he is called upon to save his father who is injured in an accident. Not having seen the film, the ending makes no sense to me at all, but somehow this miraculous incident reconciles the two families, and everyone lives happily ever after. Apparently, I’m not alone in my confusion. A critic at the time liked the lead actor and Alfvén’s music, but judged the overriding interest of the plot to be the landscape and the cows. Alfvén incorporated into the score music from his ballet-pantomime Bergakungen , as well as a number of Norwegian folk tunes.


Based on a novel by Vilhelm Moberg, Mans kvinna (literally, “Man’s woman”), the movie version hit the screen 10 years later, in 1944. Darker and more psychologically complex, it tells the story of an illicit affair between a woman trapped in a dull marriage to a farmer and her attraction to a handsome young farmhand. When the farmer learns of his wife’s infidelity, he essentially places her under house arrest, claiming her as his legal property—“chattel,” I believe, is the now politically incorrect word that would have been used. The lovers end up escaping together, but the story was probably meant more as social criticism of the attitudes towards women and their rights than it was intended as a tale of lusting after the flesh. From his film score Alfvén extracted a suite to which he gave the less provocative title, En Bygdesaga (“A Country Tale”). But the music remains reflective of its subject matter—i.e., it’s not in the folksy style of Synnøve Solbakken , but considerably more dramatic and serious in tone.


Alfvén wrote for the live stage as well as for film, and in 1932 he provided incidental music to Ludvig Nördstrom’s play, Vi (“We”). One of the numbers from that score was played at the funeral services of Swedish composer Emil Sjögren (1853–1918), and was later published as a standalone piece, the Elegy , op. 38. Though very beautiful, little about it sounds elegiac. It reminded me a bit of the funeral music from Wagner’s Götterdämmerung. Not one to throw away a good piece of music—Sjögren after all could only be elegized once—Alfvén subsequently incorporated it, along with other numbers from Vi , into yet another suite, Gustav II Adolf , op. 49.


If you have any familiarity with Alfvén, you will already know that he was more a product of the 19th century than of the 20th, as were so many Scandinavian composers of the time. You will also know that his music is of a rich, romantic tonal opulence that often has much in common with Swedish contemporaries, Wilhelm Peterson-Berger and Wilhelm Stenhammar. If you are not familiar with Alfvén, this release is as good a place as any to whet your appetite. Performances and recording are exemplary. Highly recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Renowned for his outstanding piano miniatures and solo songs, John Ireland is little known these days as a composer of partsongs. His deep understanding of choral forces brings a unique polish and artistry to the genre, his early style reflecting a deference to his masters Parry and Stanford, and deeply moving post-war masterpieces such as Twilight Night exploiting a more acerbic harmonic vocabulary. E.J. Moeran's inclination towards introspective melancholy blends with his knowledge of Elizabethan madrigal and renaissance dance, resulting in true gems on themes of love such as While She Lies Sleeping.

This disc was one of Ian Lace’s Recommended Original Film Score Recordings when first issued at full price as Marco Polo 8.223314. Here it resurfaces at upper bargain price.

Khachaturian, like many another composer, major and lesser, in Soviet Russia, turned his hand to the cinema and did so pretty extensively. This was a great leveller, a ready source of income and a means of reaching out to mass audiences across the Union. The pity is that we see so few of those films. If we think at all about them we much more readily accept seeing them written off as the work of political hacks. The composer’s first effort – of eighteen - was the film Pepo written for the Armenian Film Board a few years before his First Symphony (1934). His last film dated from 1960.

Here are suites assembled from the music for two of Khachaturian’s cinema scores. They are played for all they are worth. Adherents of this composer and of twentieth century music of the USSR will want to hear how he fared in dealing with the silver screen.

The Battle of Stalingrad original score ran to some two hours. The titles give us some impression of what is featured in this suite: I. A City on the Volga - II. The Invasion; IIIa. Stalingrad in Flames; IIIb. The Enemy is doomed; IV. For our Motherland; To the Attack! - Eternal Glory to the Heroes; V. To Victory - VI. There is a Cliff on the Volga. Much of this is urgent and not specially subtle – then again this is not meant to be about subtlety. The music often has a furious seething energy typical of the militaristic bravado found in the music for the Roman legionaries in Spartacus. We also hear little half-echoes of The Great Gate of Kiev. There are some glowing interludes such as that to be found in the almost Bridge-like battlefield bleakness of tr. 3 and at the close of tr. 4 (Eternal Glory to the Heroes). There are also moments that seem to evoke the composer’s great ballets – especially Spartacus. The cheery brassy march that is To Victory is noticeably purged of the ferocity to be found in the turbulent flag-waving first movement. This could almost be a march by Arthur Bliss. There’s a brass band version of the suite on Lawo which Nick Barnard did not think much of.

Both Chandos and Capriccio have done extensive series of the film music of Shostakovich. No such thorough efforts have gone in Khachaturian’s direction. There has been this single disc from Naxos and some film suites from ASV. Indeed fifteen minutes of Loris Tjeknavorian’s take on The Battle of Stalingrad was issued on Alto. It was originally issued with the Second Symphony.

If the Stalingrad score’s gaudy virtues are embraced, often at the expense of the more understated and nuanced, Othello from 1955 is much more multi-faceted. This is as befits a presumably fairly classy Shakespeare film in a translation made by Boris Pasternak – he of Doctor Zhivago fame. The Prologue and Intermezzo is especially touching with a memorable tolling solo violin which returns in the finale. There’s also some extremely inventive writing in a mode recalling Prokofiev who had died two years before this film. The Desdemona Arioso is a swellingly emotional vocalise for soprano with orchestra with more than few links with the famous Adagio from Spartacus. The little Venice Nocturne (tr.4) is a lovely miniature, showing as does much of this score, that Khachaturian is much more than a peddler of crushingly loud music. The grey psychological aspects of Nocturnal Murder make way for the intensity of Othello’s Despair. The urgently rushing A Fit of Jealousy will have you thinking of the ruthlessly athletic music for Crassus in Spartacus. If Khachaturian indulges in a Hollywood-style choir in the Finale – well, why not, and it is by no means cheesy.

The recording is extremely good despite its 25 year vintage. The notes by the conductor are helpful in placing the score and the films from which this music is drawn.

I hope that at some time, in a world where there are seemingly hundreds of film channels, we will get to see these films.

There you have it: specialist territory maybe but two very welcome substantial suites from the world of Khachaturian’s film music.

– Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

A native of Cuba, Leo Brouwer is universally acknowledged as one of the most challenging and innovative of contemporary composers. This program brings the guitar into consort with the bandurria, a small lute dating from the 16th century and perennially popular in South America, the combination perfect for expressing the rustic rhythms of Cuban folk style in Música Incidental Campesina. This recording covers a kaleidoscopic range of techniques and emotions, from political martyrdom in Chile to the immense vistas of Brazil. The Sonata para Bandurria was composed for one of the virtuoso performers on this recording, Pedro Chamorro.

Toru Takemitsu is widely regarded as the greatest Japanese composer of the 20th century. After the appearance of Folios in 1974 he was acknowledged as a formidable master of writing for the guitar, bringing to the instrument a sensibility and imaginative flair which have seldom been equalled. In the Woods was his final composition. Shin-ichi Fukada and Leo Brouwer were both close friends of Takemitsu, and this programme includes Brouwer’s two heartfelt homages in his memory.

A native of Luxembourg, Lou Koster was largely self-taught as a composer, flourishing in the interwar period as a pianist whose activities included accompanying silent films. Orchestrated from piano originals, pieces such as Lore-Lore and Moselträume were radio hits in the 1930s, and Koster became renowned for subtle, sensuous light music filled with unexpected turns and emotional nuances.

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

Manuel Ponce is considered by numerous scholars to be the founding father of modern Mexican music. He devoted himself to composing for guitar after meeting Andres Segovia in 1923. Sonatina Meridional is reminiscent and lyrical, and is his response to Segovia’s appeal for a work “of purely Spanish character.” The two versions of Theme varie et Finale are recorded for the first time together on this album. The Andante that is also featured is from a manuscript that was lost in the Spanish Civil War. His final work for guitar, Variations on a Theme of Cabezon, is also featured.

Award-winning conductor and composer Johan de Meij’s First Symphony ‘The Lord of the Rings’ is a spectacular evocation in five portraits and scenes based on Tolkien’s tale of a grand quest and the struggle of good against evil. The Second Symphony is an ode to the symmetry of New York’s streets and its massive architecture, as well as a tribute to the American styles of Copland and Bernstein, while the cinematic effects of the Third Symphony form an epic paean to the entire earth in all its miraculous beauty.

Redline Tango launches the new line of Naxos recordings, Wind Band Classics.

Apotheosis (1996) is a revision of the final movement from Rautavaara’s Sixth Symphony (1992), which was the symphonic reworking of music from the opera Vincent, hence the subtitle ‘Vincentiana’. The instrumentation lacks the synthesizer that evokes the paintings of the Dutch master in the opera, but the musical substance is intact.

Consisting of three movements—Daydreams, Nightmares and Dawn—Manhattan Trilogy (2004) does not constitute a symphonic piece as such. Its slow-fast-slow sequence equates to classical precedent, while the thematic working and textural elaboration follow directly from the composer’s practice in his last four symphonies.

Subtitled ‘The Journey’, the Eighth Symphony (1999) pursues its metamorphosis of ideas in ways similar to those of his previous three symphonies, but here the order of movements is nearly Classical; pointedly so in the second and third, whose contrast is emphasized by a lack of pause between movements.

The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, founded in 1946, is the country’s leading professional orchestra. It has an establishment of ninety players and performs over 100 concerts annually. They tour extensively within their own country.

Music Director of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra Pietari Inkinen is one of the most exciting talents of the new generation of conductors. He has collaborated with major orchestras and with soloists such as Vadim Repin, Hilary Hahn, and Pinchas Zukerman. His recording with the Bavarian Chamber Philharmonic has received outstanding reviews and was voted the BBC Music Magazine’s recording of the month.

TAKEMITSU Romance. Lento in due movimenti. Uninterupted Rest. Piano Distance. For Away. Les yeus clos. Les yeux clos II. Rain Tree Sketch. Rain Tree Sketch II. Piano Pieces for Children. Litany • Kotaro Fukuma (pn) • NAXOS 8.570261 (63:57)


Kotaro Fukuma (b. 1982) received high praise from Susan Kagan in Fanfare 29:2 for a program of Robert Schumann’s works; she called his technique “dazzling” and opined that his version of the Fantasiestücke “leaves nothing to be desired.” The piano music of Toru Takemitsu would seem to require a total reconsideration of touch and temperament, but Fukuma rises to the challenge. He’s certainly capable of phrasing with delicacy, as the opening of Les yeux clos II reveals, with the addition of a biting modernity to the gestures of Piano Distance and a sharp, pointed attack in Uninterrupted Rest . Even so, he continually highlights the lyrical nature of the music, not by emphasizing its flowing qualities, as does Kumi Ogano (Philips—see Fanfare 16:3), or its contemplative breadth, per Roger Woodward (Etcetera), but through a thoughtful balance of dramatic detail and atmospheric resonance. And though his Litany may lack the warmth and sensitivity of that of Peter Serkin (RCA—see Fanfare 20:3), it reinforces Takemitsu’s connection with Debussy.


Another advantage to this disc is its completeness—which is not to say it is complete. Fukuma omits realizations of Takemitsu’s two graphic scores, Corona and Crossing , as does everyone else except for Woodward, who’s recorded them twice (Etcetera and Explore). But Fukuma does include several previously overlooked or rejected pieces—a pair of charming, songlike, albeit ordinary miniatures for children; Lento in due movimenti , the unedited original version of Litany ; and, most interestingly, a Romance from 1949, the composer’s earliest surviving piano work, which combines Japanese modes, elements of Impressionism, and a brusque urgency unheard in his later music. Given the fact that both the Serkin and Woodward discs are not presently available, Fukuma deserves strong consideration for both the quality of his playing and the opportunity to hear these rare pieces.


FANFARE: Art Lange

Persichetti's band music comprises one of the most enjoyable and successful segments of his copious compositional output. In it you will find a communicative voice and range of expression often missing from his symphonies, where at times he seemed to find the seriousness of the genre inhibiting. Here, though, the challenge and discipline of creating really good music for wind ensemble has set his imagination free. Listen, for example, to the atmospheric opening of the chorale prelude O God Unseen, or to the quirky humor evident in the Divertimento and Masquerade. The largest piece here, Parable for Band, is an absolute masterpiece of the medium. The winds of the London Symphony Orchestra (and friends, presumably, unless the orchestra employs a dozen clarinets) play all of this music with appropriate aplomb under conductor David Amos. If you enjoy the symphonic band repertoire, you probably already know a lot of this music, and so you also will know that you want this well-recorded disc (originally released by Harmonia Mundi in the mid-'90s). [4/12/2006]--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

With worldwide acclaim and numerous awards, Xu Shuya is one of the leading composers to emerge from the Chinese 'New Wave'. His fascination with his Chinese heritage is eloquently expressed in pieces such as Insolation, inspired by the heroic myth of Kaufu Chasing the Sun, and Yun, which unites the famous 'Purple Bamboo Melody' with symphonic textures and gestures. Cristal au Soleil Couchant expresses the intensity of light and colours at sundown, while Echos du Vieux Champ conjures nostalgic memories of the composer's homeland. Shaped by spiritual concepts and the Tibetan landscape, Nirvana evokes the 'bittersweet pleasure' of 'faint distant melodies, like tunes from heaven'.

Naxos' many highly-praised recordings of William Alwyn' music have done much to revive excitement among today' listeners for this British composer who is best known for his 200 or so film scores.

PAGANINI (arr. Kreisler) Violin Concerto No. 2: Rondo, “La campanella.” Variations on Non più mesta. Moto perpetuo. Caprices: Nos. 13, 20, 24. Le streghe. Variations on Di tanti palpiti • Philippe Quint (vn); Dmitriy Cogan (pn) • NAXOS 8.570703 (60:20)


Fritz Kreisler made a rather large number of arrangements of Paganini’s music, and a great deal of them appear in Philippe Quint’s collection. In addition to these, Kreisler arranged the First Concerto’s first movement in a version that he himself recorded (though not until 1936, when he had entered his 60s—it’s the only Paganini he recorded), as, later, would Alfredo Campoli and Guila Bustabo. August Wilhelmj also arranged the first movement of that concerto, snipping here and there, reorchestrating, and adding romantic transitions—but Kreisler’s version bears the imprint of both Vienna and his own personality. While Heifetz, early on, reportedly played Wilhelmj’s arrangement with piano (Váša P?íhoda recorded it that way), I’m not aware of a tradition of performing Kreisler’s version. So this roster of works arranged for violin and piano seems pretty much complete.


Quint begins with the finale of the Second Concerto, often played as an encore. He possesses not only the agility to make the harmonics tinkle (the movement’s subtitle, “La campanella,” suggests the ringing of bells) but the stylistic sensitivity and adaptability to play the occasional passage as though it had been written by Kreisler rather than Paganini (and the accompaniments—Kreisler, like Heifetz, played the piano almost as well as he did the violin—indulge Kreisler’s tendency to gemütlich chromaticism). Occasionally here, as in other pieces, Kreisler simplifies or omits, but the excisions and emendations hardly ever disfigure the torso he’s left. And Quint plays with such authority that it’s hard to hear these arrangements as anything but definitive, though inspection reveals otherwise.


Paganini’s variations showcase many of his most difficult technical innovations (there’s nothing in the caprices, for example, to equal the accompanied pizzicatos or double harmonics of the variations on God Save the King ). They’re difficult enough to make a dazzling impression even when some of the terrors have been shorn, as in Kreisler’s arrangements. He certainly didn’t blanch at the double harmonics that figure so prominently in the Variations on Non più mesta , and neither does Quint, though they’re not 99 and 99/100 percent pure in his reading.


The young Jascha Heifetz and the young Michael Rabin made electrifying impressions, each, in the Moto perpetuo . If Quint doesn’t bite as deeply into the string as they did even at their lickety-split tempos, he still manages to make a lively impression; his reading takes 4:11, with Heifetz’s (1918) and Rabin’s (1960) and Ricci’s, 3:59, 3: 13, and 4:00, respectively, but Rabin didn’t repeat the first section. It’s impossible to distinguish the difficult passages from the easy ones. Next in Quint’s program come the three caprices Kreisler arranged for violin and piano (Heifetz used to play the 13th and 20th in Kreisler’s way). Quint plays the 13th at a tempo so deliberate that it’s hard to maintain focus, even though the piano part’s interesting enough in itself, but there’s nothing soggy about his approach to the staccatos in the middle section; in his rendition, what had become known as the “Devil’s Laugh” comes closer to a devil’s sigh. In No. 20, he realizes much of the lyricism suggested by the rich piano accompaniment (compare it at this tempo with the even richer one by Karol Szymanowski and see how adept it seems). And he brings a strikingly playful sense, reminiscent of Kreisler’s own, to the middle section (he doesn’t return to the opening after it—-Kreisler reworked the middle section’s ending).


Le streghe —at least its theme—has become familiar to most violin students working their way through the Suzuki literature, but the piece from which it has been drawn has been recorded with an infrequency that may be due to its difficulty. Quint makes a crisp impression in the double- and triple-stopped passages, reminiscent of Ricci’s performances of the composer’s works, and more advanced recording techniques provide a truer tonal portrait. Quint is as ardently insinuating on the G string as he is commanding in those multiple-stops. And he’s as Kreislerian in the seemingly obvious interpolations as he is Paganinian in the original material.


Paganini’s 24th Caprice has perhaps been played and recorded in the original version more often than in arrangement, but Heifetz used to play Leopold Auer’s reworking. Kreisler’s represents, in a way, a different kind of work, with flintier sparks but some of the original variations replaced (think of what he did with Tartini’s Variations on a Theme of Corelli—there’s a variation here that sounds very much like the multiple-stopped one he created for that Tartini piece). The variation in descending thirds sounds languid in this version (and in Quint’s performance).


Once again in the introduction to Paganini’s variations on Di tanti palpiti , the music suddenly sounds like Kreisler. That happens so often in Kreisler’s arrangements that it would attract little notice. But Quint plays with a special Kreislerian sensibility that renders the effect a magical one.


The engineers have captured Quint and the capable Dmitriy Cogan up close, and in this case cozying up like this doesn’t yield an HD image that reveals warts and skin blemishes; Quint is nearly flawless. Kreisler obviously had a good working technique, even if he might never have rivaled Heifetz or Ricci or Kogan or Milstein—and the list might go on longer. Perhaps, however, he had other fish to fry. Or perhaps he didn’t and he might have been, as his wife embarrassingly insisted in public, a fine violinist if he’d only have practiced. Be that as it may, Quint gives these pieces idiomatic performances that Kreisler himself might have envied. That’s a mouthful. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Nikolai Medtner's fortunes have risen on disc insofar as his solo piano works are concerned, while his substantial violin output remains relatively obscure. One explanation for this has to do with the fact that the Second and Third Violin Sonatas each take nearly 45 minutes to perform and require the utmost in technique, musicality, and concentration from both players.

The Third Sonata dates from 1938, and its basic melodic and rhythmic material draws upon Orthodox liturgical chants and gutsy folk-dances. A 1996 Erato recording with violinist Vadim Repin and pianist Boris Berezovsky has long held a reference position for its virtuoso bravura and paragraphic sweep. Laurence Kayaleh and Paul Stewart offer a different yet no less convincing point of view by way of slightly slower tempos, more lyrical rumination (their expansive, flexible parsing of the slow movement), plus thoughtful attention to detail.

You'll notice how Kayaleh projects the contrasts in the enormous first movement's themes by generously dipping into her vast portfolio of articulations and nuances, while Stewart differentiates various degrees of non-legato phrasing without ever exaggerating. While the Scherzo is more "meno" than "molto" vivace, the violin's ricocheting passagework gains melodic clarity and shape with extra breathing space, and the pizzicato chords truly speak. The players' tightly unified pacing in the finale's canonic passacaglia stands out for its easy contrapuntal repartée.

The smaller-scaled Nocturnes and the effective Heifetz arrangement of the B minor Fairy Tale also receive sensitive, poetic readings, where the timbre Kayaleh obtains from her two lowest strings has a memorable, viola-like richness. A warm ambience arises from Naxos' close microphone placement, and the pianist's booklet notes are informative and well written. Watch for the second and final volume.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

TomAs Bret n, a native of Salamanca, rose from relatively humble circumstances to become a leading figure in Spanish music, director of the Madrid Conservatory and an important conductor.

KUHLAU Piano Sonatas, op. 59: in A; in F; in C. Sonatinas, op. 20: in C; in G; in F • Jen? Jandó (pn) • NAXOS 8.570709 (59:07)


Ill-fated Friedrich Kuhlau (1786–1832) suffered a number of life’s mishaps. The first, at age seven, was the loss of his right eye in a street accident. The second, many years later, was the loss of all his unpublished manuscripts in a fire that burned his house to the ground. But perhaps the greatest misfortune of all to befall him was Beethoven, or, more specifically, to have been born and lived in Beethoven’s shadow. Born in Germany, Kuhlau fled to Copenhagen in 1810 to avoid conscription in the Napoleonic Army. What? No 4-F exemptions for one-eyed musicians? He remained in Denmark for the rest of his life, never gaining much traction as a composer except for his Danish opera, Elverhøj ( Elf Mound ). He did, however, achieve some recognition as a concert pianist; as a great admirer of Beethoven, Kuhlau introduced a number of Beethoven’s works to Copenhagen audiences. Of Kuhlau’s manuscripts that escaped the flames and made it to publication, there are approximately 200, consisting mainly of chamber works, solo piano pieces, and enough pieces for flute to have earned him the nickname “the Beethoven of the flute.”


Kuhlau is said to have been most heavily influenced by Beethoven, and as one listens to these sonatas and sonatinas, it’s clear that he had at least the more superficial aspects of Beethoven’s early style down pat. I’m speaking here of the keyboard figurations, the harmonic progressions, and the gestural articulation. A perfect example is the Adagio e sostenuto movement of the G-Major Sonatina, op. 20/2. But here the comparison ends. Kuhlau is but a dinghy caught in the wake of an aircraft carrier. Had he lived 25 years earlier, these mostly slight works might have been seen as a significant advance in keyboard style, but he didn’t; and this is what I meant above when I said that Kuhlau’s greatest misfortune was to have been born and lived in the shadow of Beethoven. Consider that the op. 20 sonatinas on this disc are dated 1820; the op. 59 sonatas, 1824. By this late date, Beethoven was done with the piano sonata as a vehicle for expressing his musical ideas. The “Hammerklavier” and the three last sonatas were behind him.


The taxonomic division of the works on this disc into sonatas and sonatinas is a bit of a puzzler. Keith Anderson’s booklet note homes in on this very point, informing us that the three op. 59 works are often published as sonatinas rather than sonatas. The crux of the matter is that in musical lexicography a sonatina refers either to a small-scaled, modest sonata or, more properly, to a sonata-allegro movement without a development section. The op. 59 set on the disc does feature the requisite first-movement development sections to qualify as sonatas, but oddly, they are all relatively brief works and in only two movements. The op. 20 set, though called “sonatinas,” are all more extended three-movement works and, at least in one case—the F-Major—there is a short development section.


It is likely that most, if not all, of these pieces were written for students, as Kuhlau earned no small amount of his income teaching and publishing just such sonatas and sonatinas intended for young fingers. In a 2006 New York Times article I came across on the Internet (http: //www.nytimes.com/2006/07/02/arts/music/02holl.html), Bernard Holland acknowledges that “none of these sonatinas prepare the student for Beethoven at his most ornery,” and asks “Why play Kuhlau in the first place?” He answers his own question thus: “It is easy to dismiss this annoyingly perfect music as a product of mindless rote or a series of bad habits having outlived their time. But the sonatinas have their uses.” What they are, according to Holland, strike me as a bit misguided. “Really interesting composers like Haydn and Beethoven” he continues ( leaving Mozart and Schubert out of the equation —my italics), “violated the unwritten road maps with glee; but fully to understand the originality of the violators, it is nice to have a Kuhlau or a Muzio Clementi to show you just what is being violated.” Apart from the fact that the road maps of harmonic progression and sonata form were hardly unwritten by the late 18th century, what Holland seems to be saying is that Kuhlau’s only purpose is to provide us with a sextant by which to measure the degrees of deviation from true north practiced by the “really interesting composers.”


I have a rather different take on it. In the grander scheme of things, which we cannot know, it may be that neither Kuhlau nor any of the “really interesting composers” has any purpose at all, other than to afford us some pleasure and comfort while we wait to shuck off this mortal coil. Kuhlau is never less than harmonious, pleasing to the ear, attractive, and entertaining. As music, it’s a vacant sand lot, but one I’d rather trudge through than the barren dunes of some of what passes for music today.


Jen? Jandó is one of Naxos’s “house” pianists. He plays everything they throw at him smartly and stylishly. These pieces, of course, make no technical demands that a polished professional such as Jandó isn’t up to. The recording was made in 2007 with Jandó playing a modern grand piano. While recordings of Kuhlau’s keyboard works abound, the current CD appears to be the only one currently available containing these specific opus numbers. Buy, enjoy, and be happy.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Admirably bracing and sympathetic, excellently recorded.

The second instalment of the Naxos Schmidt symphonic cycle is with us. It preserves another impressive performance, this time of the E flat major Symphony. As before, the major competition comes from the Detroit Symphony and Järvi on Chandos CHAN9568 -- a four-disc collection.

The Symphony lasts around forty-eight or so minutes -- in this performance -- and is cast in three movements. Written between 1911 and 1913 it opens in genial fashion before some hefty Straussian brass calls puncture the amiable laissez faire. Schmidt is a minor master at alternation of brass fanfare and diaphanous gauzy textures; there’s even an Elgarian contour to his melodic way of thinking, a product of late-Romantic brio, surely, rather than anything else. Those Brucknerian caesuri are another strong influence. Pliant and neat, the second movement moves off into variational waters. These range from the lissom and fast to evocative, if ghostly, ballroom scenes. The baroque-leaning finale with its Bachian Fugue, solenelle style, has a grandly developing sense of space and drives onwards to a stirring and invincible chorale conclusion. The playing is splendid, and the interpretative decision-making vis-à-vis Järvi is a matter of individual taste. The latter has the more virtuosic orchestra but Sinaisky handles the thematic development of the symphony with equal authority.

The bonus, if one can call it that, is the 1937 Fuga Solemnis for organ, sixteen wind instruments and percussion. The organ begins its nobly reserved soliloquy whilst the orchestral forces are only allowed to enter with their stirring blocks of sound at around the mid-point of its 14 minute length. Again a stirring climax is ensured by Schmidt and whilst this one sounds a touch forced, its impact can’t be doubted.

Once again these forces prove to be fully conversant with Schmidt’s own personalised brand of late-romanticism, and its allied harmonic richness. The results are admirably bracing and sympathetic, and have been excellently recorded by the Naxos team.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

When the Russian art historian and critic Vladimir Stasov declared in 1867 ‘how much poetry, feeling, talent, and intelligence are possessed by the small but already mighty handful of Russian musicians’, the five nationalist composers to whom he referred adopted the nickname with pride. Though each developed his own personal style, they remained committed to forging a truly Russian musical tradition, not least through pieces such as these songs. Russian bass Mikhail Svetlov is a winner of the Viotti International Competition and has been principal soloist of the legendary Bolshoy Theatre of Moscow for more than a decade.

Composed over a period of some thirty years, the six string works in this programme cover the full stylistic range of Penderecki' towering compositional career.

Recording information: Siemens Villa, Berlin, Germany (03/10/2009-03/11/2009).

Includes work(s) by various composers. Ensemble: Russian Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra. Conductor: Dmitry Yablonsky.

Two previous Britten CDs reviewed in these pages were rescued, as was this one, from the archives of the now defunct Collins Classics label. If you happen to have the original 1992 Collins disc, be advised that it and the current Naxos release are one and the same. If you don?t have it, the present CD offers an excellent opportunity to acquire two of Benjamin Britten?s most popular works? The Young Person?s Guide and the Frank Bridge Variations ?plus two other not-so-often-heard pieces in the composer?s most approachable style, all in fine performances, a splendid recording that sounds newly minted, and at budget cost.


Few, if any, of Britten?s works have enjoyed the exposure of his Young Person?s Guide to the Orchestra , commissioned in 1946 for an educational film intended for the ?edification and entertainment? of children. Like other works of its type?Saint-Saëns?s Carnival of the Animals and Prokofiev?s Peter and the Wolf ?Britten?s piece has been edifying and entertaining audiences of all age groups ever since.


The major offering here, the Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge , was Britten?s tribute to his teacher. Written in 1937, it was premiered by the Boyd Neel Orchestra that same year, and recorded by the same forces a year later. That recording has been transferred to CD by Pearl, and is still available, as is Britten?s own 1967 recording with the English Chamber Orchestra on Decca. Several more recent accounts have also been committed to disc, the most recent being a very impressive SACD release with the Scottish Ensemble on Linn Records. I don?t think it too far a stretch to say that Britten?s Frank Bridge Variations may well be the most important work in variations form to come from the pen of an English composer since Elgar?s Enigma Variations .


The Occasional Overture and Prelude and Fugue for 18-part string orchestra have received less attention on disc, though the former found a place in a Britten anthology recorded by Simon Rattle, and the latter in a collection of the composer?s works led by Ronald Thomas for Chandos.


The current Naxos release serves a meal well balanced between two of Britten?s enduring masterpieces and two lighter, palate-cleansing courses. If you don?t already have the Collins original, go for it.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

This album was nominated for the 2005 Grammy Award for "Best Instrumental Soloist(s) (with Orchestra)."

SOLER, A.: Sonatas for Harpsichord, Vol. 10

This album was nominated for the 2005 Grammy Award for "Best Chamber Music Performance."

This collection of classical favorites of Penderecki's work serves as a compilation of his famous works made available by Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra, Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra and the Warsaw Philharmonic Choir. Also featured are renowned classical conductor Antoni Wit and other classic artist.