Jesus Guridi was one of a number of composers born in the last quarter of the 19th century, who also included Joaquin Turina and Manuel de Falla, driven by a desire to create and promote Spanish music with a genuinely national identity. With their authentic folk-tinged atmosphere, Guridi's two string quartets follow his foremost philosophical concern of creating beautiful works of art, with their moments of modal serenity and richly diverse sophistication. Guridi's masterpiece Ten Basque Melodies can be heard on Naxos 8.557110, his zarzuela El caserioon 8.557632, the Sinfonia pirenaica on 8.557631, and his opera Amaya on Marco Polo 8.225084-85.

Completed in 1936, two years after the hugely popular Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Rachmaninov’s Third Symphony was considered by the composer to be one of his finest works. Both this and the Symphonic Dances, his last work, offer a summation of his late style in blending intense rhythmic energy with rich romanticism. Leonard Slatkin and the DSO’s recording of the Second Symphony (8.572458) was hailed by BBC Music Magazine as “a performance warmed by musicians who clearly love this symphony”.

REVIEW:

Making a major mark in this repertoire isn’t the easiest thing for any conductor to do, not with so many distinctive performances already on disc. But Alsop has a genuine affinity for the composer’s music, and can clearly deliver the goods. Alsop holds her own in terms of the big picture, leading a performance of the Seventh that ultimately carries substantial expressive weight. It is the same for Symphony No. 8, which emerges with lots of character and warmth. In both works, the BSO produces a vivid, disciplined sound.

– Baltimore Sun

Includes work(s) by John Gardner. Ensemble: Royal Scottish National Orchestra. Conductor: David Lloyd-Jones.

María del Carmen was Enrique Granados' first great operatic success and the stage work he held in highest regard. It was received with great acclaim at its premiere in 1898, admired for its refined and brilliant orchestral writing and for its prfound lyricism. Using the folklore, language and sounds of Murcia in south-eastern Spain alongside the influence of Wagnerian thematic techniques, the opera is set in a rural village where a water shortage and a love triangle inflame the mutual hatred between the peasant farmer Pencho and his wealthy rival Javier.

Review:

Mallon's new recordings with his Canadian period instrument ensemble offers honest, unfussy readings...while the Aradia Ensemble rarely wants for urbanity, warmth and clarity, a certain under-characterisation can merge one concerto into another.

– BBC Music Magazine

-----

Handel’s Concerti Grossi contain some of the finest orchestral music of the eighteenth century. The Op 6 collection brims with a wealth of variety, colour, and dance rhythms—Polish and Pastoral dances, courtly and fast ones—and Handel’s customary self-borrowings and indeed borrowings from other composers. The combination of full orchestra with a concertino solo group of two violins and cello allows both breadth and intimacy, producing concertos in the fullest sense. On this recording Kevin Mallon incorporates the later oboe parts for Concertos Nos 1, 2, 5 and 6, using them as a model for most of the other concertos. When the oboes are silent, flutes or recorders are added, in line with eighteenth-century practice.

That Franz Schmidt's 1899 Symphony No. 1 met with greater success than Mahler's contemporaneous Symphonies Nos. 1-3 seems surprising to us today, until we consider the conservative tastes of the Viennese in that era. Schmidt, though not necessarily a straitlaced "conservative" composer, did early on dutifully (perhaps too dutifully) follow the path laid by Wagner, as his magisterial first movement amply demonstrates. It's similar in style and harmony to Wagner's Meistersinger, but with less interesting tunes. The following Langsam movement also evokes Wagner through its not immediately apparent tonality and its rather languid atmosphere (as well as the beautiful writing for strings). But again the melodic material is not all that memorable.

The scherzo is best: it features a catchy tune with beguiling turns of melody and harmony that foreshadow the Schmidt of the Fourth symphony (particularly in the colorful and distinguished woodwind writing), his finest work in the genre. The finale returns to the prosaic, though it does boast an affirmative if seemingly obligatory chorale toward the conclusion.

Vassily Sinaisky shows real belief in and affection for the piece, and he leads a convincing performance with the Malmö Symphony Orchestra. He's certainly more involving than Neeme Järvi, who with his Detroit Symphony gives the impression he's always in a hurry to get to the good parts.

There are good parts aplenty in the Notre Dame excerpts. Composed only five years after the symphony, Schmidt's opera displays the composer's keen dramatic instincts and developing orchestral mastery (the colorful Carnival Music is quite captivating). Again Sinaisky and the Malmö players deliver a first-rate performance, captured in excellent sound by Naxos. If you're interested in early Schmidt, you'll do quite well with this release.

--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

Includes work(s) by various composers. Soloists: Ivan Paisov, Natalia Shcherbakova.

BRUCKNER String Quintet. 1 String Quartet. Intermezzo in d. 1 Rondo in c • Fine Arts Qrt; Gil Sharon (va) 1 • NAXOS 8.570788 (78.50)


When the Bruckner revival was in full swing a few decades ago, this writer was never entirely smitten, and to this day I wince when he and Mahler are combined in casual conversation, since the style and quality of their music is so utterly different. Bruckner’s limited chamber music output hasn’t found much of a home in the repertoire of top-tier ensembles, but there is enough to make a cautious judgment, and the latest entry from Naxos might help some to examine this lonely corner of the repertoire.


Given my prejudices, I might not be expected to gush over this new disc of Bruckner’s Quintet in F Major and Quartet in C Minor by the Fine Arts Quartet, and I won’t. The performances are quite good and lovingly delivered, but the same qualities I have always considered weaknesses (utterly predictable phrase patterns and melodic sequences, unjustified repetitions, etc.) are in full bloom here as well, characteristics magnified by the absent splendor of a grand orchestra creating great masses of sonic beauty, which I believe too often masks a dearth of ideas and creative paths through the material. Despite my harsh minority view of the topic, I would not recommend relegating this disc to the garbage heap. In fact, there are intermittent pleasures here and there that might please the casual Bruckner listener and delight his more ardent admirers.


Posterity is certainly wise to give greater value to the mature Quintet over the youthful and rather thinly realized Quartet. Composed around the time of the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies (1879), the Quintet sounds like one of his symphonic monuments, though it is a bit shorter and requires more nimble and intimate passagework from the performers, particularly the first violin. Some familiar harmonic patterns are present, and I detect some melodic snippets reminiscent of chamber works from Schumann (the “falling fifth,” for example). There is a fair amount of counterpoint, especially in the development section of the first movement. The Scherzo is one of the stronger movements on the disc, and is spun with a classical lightness that occasionally brings to mind Mendelssohn. There is even a touch of humor here and there, not an attribute Bruckner is known for. Not surprisingly for the über -revisionist Austrian, there is an alternative to the Scherzo, a rather pleasant Intermezzo, handily included on the disc for those inclined to judge for themselves.


The Adagio from the Quintet is sometimes heard in a transcription for string orchestra, a setting for which it seems more suited. Its lyrical, tender, and extended themes are among the composer’s finest, and there are occasions when the clarity of five players lends a touching intimacy not possible in massed strings.


The Quartet was discovered only in 1949 in a sketchbook of works from his student years. This is a much more reticent composer, content to remain well within the models of quartet composition inherited from his predecessors, a tendency most notable in the Scherzo. His attempts at Romantic-era duress seem strained, but there are some catchy tunes, especially in the supple and tender Andante.


I haven’t heard many of the dozen or so recordings of the Quintet, but you’re unlikely to find one much better than this finely executed and clearly recorded disc; doubly so for the far rarer Quartet. The Fine Arts Quartet gives a warmly expressive and carefully calibrated reading, joined by the fine violist Gil Sharon in the Quintet.


FANFARE: Michael Cameron

Franz Xaver Richter actually wrote these symphonies before joining the celebrated group of composers and performers in the Mannheim court orchestra, but they are no less interesting for that. Two of these works (Nos. 10 and 12) follow the "church sonata" format in opening with a slow movement (out of four in total; all of the other symphonies have three). The quick second movement of No. 10 is a fugue, and a very good one, always an indication of the "learned" style. But even the theoretically lighter works are full of melodic and harmonic interest. The minor-key slow movements of Nos. 7 and 8, for example, really are gripping, and in the quick movements Richter strikingly anticipates Classical procedures by writing development sections that really do develop, exhibiting great tonal tension with no loss of coherence.

In short, these works are well worth getting to know, and happily the Helsinki Baroque Orchestra under Aapo Häkkinen plays them stylishly and with plenty of expressive force. The harpsichord continuo sounds a touch dry, but it happily doesn't overwhelm the larger string ensemble as so often happens in music of this period, turning the works into de facto keyboard concertos. Volume 1 in this set of 12 "Grandes Symphonies" already has been released, and it's equally fine, so if you're interested in the history of the classical symphony, and in that fascinating period in which the late Baroque mingled with the nascent style of Gluck (in "reform" mode), Haydn, and Mozart, then you will certainly want to hear this expressively pungent and attractive music.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Although Richard Whitehouse's program notes accurately pinpoint Prokofiev's influence on Kabalevsky's youthful First piano sonata, late Scriabin often lurks behind some of the music's harmonic ambiguity and impassioned dynamic surges. In fact, the slow movement's gorgeous chord voicings and gentle melodic polyphony wouldn't be out of place in a Ned Rorem sonata! With all of that, a vibrant composing personality makes itself felt. By contrast, Kabalevsky's Second and Third sonatas (respectively dating from 1945 and 1946) are formally tighter and better "stage-managed" pianistically, yet are more derivative from a creative standpoint. However, in the right hands (Vladimir Horowitz's, for example), they sound like near-masterpieces and Alexandre Dossin's well-drilled fingers emphasize musical considerations over virtuoso effect.

He downplays the percussive drive in the Second sonata Presto assai's motoric piano writing by emphasizing melodic shapes and long lines, and does the same with the Third sonata's spiky Allegro giocoso. At the same time, the little Sonatinas' fast movements are appropriately incisive and aggressive. The distant ambience lacks warmth and depth yet preserves a concert-hall perspective from which you can assess Dossin's strong powers of projection. Since Artur Pizarro's comparable, albeit better engineered 1994 Collins Classics Kabalevsky sonata cycle disc is no longer available, Dossin has the field to himself.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

The Chinese composer and violinist Ma Sicong was born in Haifeng in Guangdong province in 1912, and was among the relatively few Chinese musicians of his generation to study abroad. He settled in America in 1967.

BACH The Art of Fugue • Sergio Vartolo (hpd); Maddalena Vartolo (hpd) • NAXOS 8.570577 (2 CDs: 102: 13)


Some recordings deserve high praise, some deserve faint praise, and some earn their fair share of ridicule. Then there is the category of those that earn your respect over time, if you have the stamina to hang in. Bach’s The Art of Fugue , BWV 1080, usually considered an intellectually “dry” work, as played on the harpsichord by Sergio Vartolo (with Maddalena Vartolo on the final two pieces for two harpsichords), won me over after a struggle. The first time through, I experienced a rash of negative judgments: the tempo was too slow, the beat was too regular, the dynamic range was too narrow (only from p to f , while the piano could cover from ppp to fff ), the soloist is an academic (and you know how they are), and there was no exhilaration by acceleration. Everything was too risk free, too free of passion. I was under the spell of the modern piano readings of Bach’s music. But after putting these discs aside for about a week, I asked myself: “If the disc is all that, why did Naxos offer it?” I concluded that I must not have been listening with both frontal lobes of my brain operating. Or, maybe the first time through I’d put too much Kirsch in the fondue for lunch, and it affected my judgment. In any event, I didn’t “get it.”


So I listened to all 102:13 of it, again. This time I realized what I’d forgotten in my prejudice. Of course, the harpsichord had a limited dynamic range with each string being plucked by a leather plectrum under uniform pressure each time its keyboard note was struck (no matter how heartily or delicately). That is one of the limiting factors of its design, which became an incentive in the development of the forte piano. As for the tempo and the rhythm, I realized these were likely a secondary concern to Bach, a champion of well-tempered tuning, in these contrapuntal but equally harmonic exercises. The metronome had not yet been developed, so there couldn’t have been exact instructions from the composer as would become the later practice. There were likely “conventions,” probably issued verbally on the signature score, as to the approximate tempo the composer recommended for each section.


In my bifurcated Oblomovian mind, I decided to concede the tempo to the performer, especially as Vartolo is a highly prolific recording artist, a regular medal winner, as well as a professor at the Accademia Filarmonica of Bologna, where, in 1770, a new member—W. A. Mozart—was installed. I reasoned if there were existing instructions from Bach, or conventions that were observed concerning tempo, rubato, syncopation, etc., Vartolo (as scholar) would know them. And this time I enjoyed my listening much more. But I still wasn’t sold.


During my third trip through the Art of Fugue with Vartolo, I got so into the music I could forget about dynamic range and tempo and appreciate the gorgeous sound of the harpsichord, the skill of the Naxos recording engineers, as well as the spellbinding quality of Vartolo’s playing. I’ve taken to putting it in my CD player first thing in the morning, and (setting it on automatic repeat) letting it play all day while I am at my computer. The presentation of the music is so inevitable, the playing and recording so clean, that I’ve come to hear the clarity of the argument for original instruments, something I had thought too doctrinaire. Certainly, this music—when played on a modern piano, even by soloists who loved Bach (like Glenn Gould)—takes on a quite different mode of presentation. But I can hear the case for equally expert playing on the harpsichord.


In conclusion, I’m not too proud to climb down off my high horse and recommend this two-CD set. It has won me over by overcoming my knee-jerk reactions. If you are interested in Bach, or the fugue, or the harpsichord, or the body of work known as The Art of Fugue , I recommend this recording with high praise. Both the playing and the recording are damn fine. The lesson I’ve learned here, and hope to share with you is that in judging music, it seems best to admit your prejudices to yourself. If you can keep aware of your own preferences, education, music you exclude on specious grounds, you might discover the value of music that is new to you. As I have. Music loving ought to be inclusive. It depends on how you do it. I recommend that you Zen yourself out with Vartolo’s The Art of Fugue during a rainy weekend. You could be pleasantly surprised! And for you harpsichord players out there, you already knew all this. But isn’t it cool to see it in print?


FANFARE: Ilya Oblomov

BRIDGE Piano Trios: No. 1, “Phantasie”; No. 2. Miniatures: Set 1; Set 2; Set 3 • Ashley Wass (pn); Jack Liebeck (vn); Alexander Chaushian (vc) • NAXOS 8.570792 (72:47)


The half-hour Bridge Second Trio (1929) is one of the best things he ever wrote, some of the very strongest British chamber music of its time, along with Bridge’s own last two quartets. The opening is unforgettably bleak, and a ripe expressionist drama unfolds. It is not as “advanced” as the music Webern and Schoenberg were writing 20 years earlier, yet at the same time it almost prefigures Shostakovich. Sound here is very good, and the playing has great commitment, concentration, and fleetness of foot. But the very stiff competition includes a live 1963 version with Britten, Menuhin, and Gendron, as well as a fine, cheap Helios disc.


Compared to the Trio No. 2, the rest of the CD offers salon music. The “Phantasie” Trio is much like the other Cobbett Prize-winning pieces by various composers, and it sounds faded to my ears, though these players give it everything. The Miniatures are slight character studies in late-19th century style, but they may be the disc’s main selling point for Bridge collectors. The Dussek Trio’s 1995 version is good, but these Naxos players make a strong case for the Miniatures , and the sound is better. This performance of the Second Trio won’t disappoint you either, if you get the Naxos disc for the other repertoire; though if you already have the Lyrita or Helios recordings, rest easy. If you have no Bridge Second Trio, do get the Britten version on BBC, even if you buy none of the other CDs. The new disc is highly recommended to admirers of the composer—two different composers, really, early and late, as this CD vividly demonstrates.


FANFARE: Paul Ingram

GE GAN-RU String Quartets: No. 1, “Fu”; No. 4, “Angel Suite”; No. 5, “Fall of Baghdad” • ModernWorks • NAXOS 8.570603 (60:44)


Prior to this review I’d read a short profile of the composer in the Times , and discovered for a substantial period of time he’d dropped out of sight to found a business that now supports him and allows him freedom to compose as he wishes. As such, he may be the “Chinese Charles Ives.” Whatever the reason, these three string quartets show his evolution over that time gap, with No. 1 from 1983, and Nos. 4 and 5 from 1998 and 2007, respectively.


No. 1, “Fu” (Prose Poem), is in a single movement, and while it uses a number of special techniques for strings, the influence of middle-period Bartók is most evident, at least to my ear. This was radical music in context for a young Chinese composer, but not necessarily for the outside world. But No. 4, “Angel Suite,” is an exceedingly rich and original piece. In a way, it shouldn’t be, as it references the Western classical tradition most overtly, and indeed has a strong scent of the last fin de siècle. But though I hear Debussy very strongly throughout (above all in the first movement), its movements—including a dark waltz and similarly unsettling march—remain so full of interesting ideas and details that a strong personality cannot help but emerge. I found this music totally engaging, with a “postmodern” take that was never ironic, facile, or pastichesque.


No. 5 is subtitled “The Fall of Baghdad.” In its reference to destruction “in time of war,” it’s an homage to George Crumb’s 1970 Black Angels, and it opens with similarly wrenching, screeching sounds. The second movement features an extended, distant viola melody that recalls a muzzein’s call to prayer, which after an interlude of sinister rhythms using col legno and pizzicato, returns to the stratosphere. The third, “Desolation,” has a heartrending violin solo over pianissimo chords that suggest the classic “voice crying in the wilderness.” (No more so than when dark crunching sounds are ripped from behind the instruments’ bridges.) While the work starts out a little too reminiscent of its inspiration, like all the works on this program, Ge is in the details. It takes a little time, but a new, personal music emerges without any enormous technical or stylistic breakthrough; this is actually an enormous accomplishment. And lest I sound too technical, the music’s conclusion is shattering. We’ve got real art here.


ModernWorks is a string quartet directed by cellist Madeline Shapiro. (The other players are Airi Yoshioka and Majuki Fukuhara, violins, and Veronica Salas, viola.) They interpret this music brilliantly, and they have done great service to music by advocating this creator. I hope this recording finds a large audience, or at least the right audience. This composer has something to say, and staying power.


FANFARE: Robert Carl

Unfamiliar scores played with great conviction. A real treat.

Taneyev may not be high on most people's list of 19th-century Russian composers but that could change as this Naxos series progresses. The First and Third symphonies with the Novosibirsk orchestra under Thomas Sanderling - son of the illustrious Kurt - certainly impressed me and, if anything, this new release has heightened my admiration for composer and orchestra alike.

Taneyev's only opera, based on Aeschylus's Oresteia, was recorded by DG and Olympia some time ago, but neither version is in the current catalogue. Curiously, the overture was composed and performed several years before the opera was completed. It's a substantial piece in its own right, lasting around 20 minutes, and listeners may be forgiven for thinking they've stumbled on a little-known piece of Wagner or Richard Strauss. That said, this is more than musical mimicry, revealing a rich supply of motile Russian melodies and a symphonic sweep that wouldn't have disgraced Taneyev's great friend and mentor, Tchaikovsky. From that first Stygian string theme through to its restrained finale this overture is full of lovely touches; and even though there is a whiff of Scriabin in those aromatic harmonies Sanderling ensures they never cloy or overwhelm the senses.

Arguably the Act III Entr'acte is even more seductive - it certainly has a Straussian amplitude - which is probably why this piece was so popular during the composer's lifetime. I was particularly struck by the sheer passion and unanimity of the playing and Sanderling's firm, clear-eyed view of the score. The recording is just as satisfying, deep when it needs to be and suitably grand in the splendid climaxes. Indeed, any misgivings I might have had about this band and their conductor simply evaporated at this point.

How very different that all is to the delectable Adagio in C major, written during the composer's final year at the Moscow Conservatory. As Anastasia Belina points out in her liner notes, much of Taneyev's youthful work was only discovered years later. The Adagio, published in 1950, is a real gem, especially when it's played with such elegance and refinement. And how different again is the Overture on a Russian Theme, written for the All-Russian Art and Trade Exhibition of 1882. Taneyev makes use of authentic Russian songs - as collected by Rimsky-Korsakov - forging them into a piece that has all the cut and thrust of a Cossack sword. It's virile stuff, guaranteed to please those who like their Russians to strut and swagger.

The style of the cantata, written for the opening of the Pushkin Memorial in Moscow, is echoed in the celebratory music of post-revolutionary Russia, used to great effect by the likes of Prokofiev and Shostakovich. That's not to suggest this is merely a patriotic prole-pleaser, because it isn't; it may be just 64 bars long but it has all the passion and splendour of those great choral numbers in Alexander Nevsky. As for the Canzona it's a frothy little confection, complemented by the bright-toned playing of clarinettist Stanislav Yankovsky. A slight piece, perhaps, but enjoyable none the less.

The Overture in D minor, like the Adagio, is an early work and this time it shows. It has a bluff quality - and a tendency to outstay its welcome - that the other pieces in this collection manage to avoid. (I wonder if other listeners can hear Brahms in this music?) Still, one mildly disappointing piece out of seven isn't bad, and it certainly isn't enough to dilute my enthusiasm for this disc as a whole. Factor in committed playing and full-blooded sound and you have one of the year's most entertaining releases so far.

Go on, treat yourself.

-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

VIVALDI Bassoon Concertos: in a, RV 497; in C, RV 473; in F, RV 491; in C, RV 466; in C, RV 469; in g, RV 496 • Tamás Benkócs (bn); Béla Drahos, cond; Nicolaus Esterházy Snf • NAXOS 8.570798 (65:04)


For anyone wishing recordings of all 37 completed bassoon concertos by the Red Priest, there is currently only one choice: Daniel Smith on five ASV CDs (552). While this is hardly a bad deal—Smith and his two conductors and orchestras present the works with great energy and dazzling virtuosity—there have always been nagging irritations. Smith is an amazing performer, but every concerto seems like an Olympic event; faster is better—faster and louder better still. If, in the process, he produced a hollow tone—made coarse when overblown, barking low notes here and there, occasional dicey intonation, intermittent fudged figurations where the tempo was set faster than the fingers could fly, it was all in the name of the race. He and the orchestra always got to the end, together, and by golly it was exciting. And yet—and yet—!As much as it seems like ungrateful nit-picking and as much as one is thrilled just to have all of these inventive works so well played, or played at all, in the end one feels that there should be something more than mere pyrotechnics, however breathtaking they might be.


Enter the extraordinary Hungarian bassoonist Tamás Benkócs, principal of the superb Budapest Festival Orchestra. Here at last is the poetry, not the race. Here is elegance and wit and wistfulness and moments of repose to go along with the amazing technical virtuosity. Benkócs doesn’t have us on the edge of our seats, wondering if he is going to make it through a passage; rather he tackles the sometimes-staggering technical challenges with deceptive ease. The tempos are generally a bit slower than are Smith’s, but with that slight relaxation one starts hearing the extraordinary music instead of just the amazing rush of notes. The middle slow movements benefit the most—Benkócs plays them as if he were singing an aria—but the variety that he finds in the fast movements, not to mention the warm solid tone, impeccable intonation, seamlessly blended tenor and bass registers, and precise articulation of even the most demanding passages, is well worth a little loss in raw excitement. I like his playing as well as that of Klaus Thunemann on Philips, and that is high praise indeed. Béla Drahos and his excellent modern-instrument band provide sympathetic accompaniment: buoyant, transparent, restrained in use of vibrato, harpsichord dominated, but with attractive depth. I would have liked them a bit farther forward on the sound stage, but that is a minor quibble. Collectors who have a wider interest in this repertoire will want to sample some of the colorful period-instrument performances on Naïve 30379 and 30409, but there is still a great deal of vitality in these traditional modern-instrument performances, as well.


With this volume, Mr. Benkócs has finished five CDs and 31 concertos. Assumedly, he will complete the series in one more volume. Two other Fanfare critics have weighed in on the series; David L. Kirk warmly welcomed Volume 2 (8.555938) in 28:6; but in 30:2, Laura Rónai found Volume 3 (8.557556) too polite by half, and non-descript to boot. I certainly side with Mr. Kirk, but obviously opinions vary. The nice thing about Naxos recordings is that one can experiment for a relatively small investment. That’s what I recommend. Then you can buy the other four, as I did.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

The names Bach and Buxtehude are inextricably linked in that the young German was deeply influenced by the older Danish keyboard virtuoso and Werkmeister. In fact, following his visit to Denmark in 1705, he allowed that, in retrospect, he had gone to hear Buxtehude "in order to comprehend one thing and another about his art". That this is in itself rather striking commentary from arguably the greatest composer in the history of Western Classical Music cannot be denied and speaks volumes on the importance of Buxtehude in evaluating the early Baroque period.
Diapason d'Or winner Lars Ulrik Mortensen, well known for his collaborations with John Holloway and Jaap ter Linden, among others, brings to Buxtehude's music a unique blend of virtuosity and scholarship in the area of performance practice. His playing, while astonishingly accurate and controlled, never gives the impression of being a calculated affair. His informed music making is inspired and breathes fresh life into every bar of this oeuvre. Worthy of note is Mortensen's handling of the cadenza-like arpeggio section in the Prelude in G Major; the building effect is breathtaking, the resolution exultant.
Gramophone (1/00, p. 85) - "...[Mortensen] arranges his programmes
effectively to illustrate the wide range of Buxtehude's art, though the
contrapuntal facility that drew Bach to trudge 200 miles to hear him is
everywhere apparent....enthusiastically recommended..."

Best known for his spectacular operas Giacomo Meyerbeer also contributed to the more intimate world of French, German and Italian song with a fair number of finely-crafted examples.

Tchaikovsky' the Seasons is a collection of twelve piano pieces, each one representing a month of the year, from the melancholy fireside in January, through Carnival, the song of the lark, April snowdrops and the nights of May.

MOZART / CRUSELL / BACH, J.C.: Music for Oboe and Strings

This superb disc is number 21 in Naxos’s projected series of Liszt’s complete piano music. Given that Leslie Howard’s Hyperion series (to my knowledge, the only one that is yet "complete" although he keeps finding more to record) ran to 57 volumes, some with multiple discs, this still has some way to go. I mention this because, in one of life’s coincidences, the discs in the series I have acquired previously are numbers 7 and 14 (respectively containing Rossini transcriptions and Bunte Reihe transcriptions of music by Ferdinand David), both of which were also excellent.

But, hang on a minute, this music certainly doesn’t sound like Liszt and, of course, it isn’t – it’s Beethoven. Although I have been aware of Liszt’s transcriptions of his symphonies for some time, this is my first experience of them. I approached the disc with several questions in my mind: Why did Liszt transcribe them? Why, when I can easily choose between recordings by Klemperer, Karajan, Böhm and Zinman, should I want to listen to a piano version? Even if I am interested in piano transcriptions of Beethoven’s symphonies, should I really be starting with the Ninth?

I would presume that Liszt was motivated to produce his transcriptions as a vehicle for his own performance and to increase the possibility of their performance more generally; although they would only ever be accessible to great virtuosos. My initial reason for wanting to listen to this was curiosity but I will re-listen in the future because the experience was much more compelling than I had expected. It made me think afresh about a work I thought I knew well. Each time I have listened to it I have marvelled at Beethoven’s music, Liszt’s conception for the piano, and Scherbakov’s musicianship and virtuosity.

My feeling is that the difficulties of playing the 9th Symphony on the piano must increase progressively throughout the work. The first movement is relatively straightforward compared to the scherzo, for which there is an incessant rhythmic challenge; despite this Scherbakov takes all the other repeats except the last one. In the adagio the difficulty is obviously not one of hitting the notes but conveying the feeling normally imparted in the string writing. Sensibly Scherbakov adopts a relatively fast tempo (although the duration of 12 minutes is similar to Zinman, Böhm takes about half as long again) and yet he convincingly conveys the spiritual essence of the music. But all this is nothing compared to the finale! As this began, I was really sceptical. Hadn’t Liszt thought of bringing at least a tenor along with him? Can a piano really sing like four soloists and a chorus? Of course it can’t but Scherbakov’s piano sings for all it is worth and the words went round in my head. The experience was quite different but still a rich broth rather than a consommé. Scherbakov handles the various contrasting sections of the finale with the same skill as a great conductor and he brings off a magnificent conclusion. The fantastic glow that you should feel at the end of this work was just as intense as ever.

Second time round, listening to this disc with the orchestral score was an interesting experience. The most striking thing was how many of the notes are in the piano version, a very high proportion and certainly all the ones that matter. Curiously though, there seems to be a small cut in the scherzo of eight bars just before the last repeated section (at 9’52" on track 2). This section (on page 133 of the Dover edition of the score) is played on all the orchestral versions mentioned above. Essentially it is a repeat of the opening eight bars of this movement. I don’t know whether Liszt, Scherbakov or Naxos is responsible for the omission. It would be surprising if it were Liszt because this short passage is so straightforward that even I could transcribe it for the piano (you couldn’t say that for more than 99% of the rest of this work!) although perhaps these bars were not in the edition of the score he used. Whatever the explanation, I raise it as a point of interest and do not feel that it detracts significantly from his truly magnificent rendition of this movement.

The recorded sound is not absolutely top-drawer and the piano initially seemed a little harsh in tone (this is not entirely inappropriate at the beginning of this work) but my ears adapted. The booklet is rather disappointing – no need here for a biography of Liszt, rather some more detail about the transcriptions would have been appreciated. But, for me, given music-making like this, these are minor considerations.

There is competition, both from within Leslie Howard’s complete Liszt series and also a complete Beethoven symphony transcription set by Cyprien Katsaris (see link to review below). Obviously, I haven’t heard these discs (yet) but, regardless of their merits, Scherbakov is worth hearing as well.

I am glad I started my piano transcription experience with the Ninth because it has made me want to explore the rest of the series. Apparently Scherbakov has already recorded three discs including the first six symphonies (see links to reviews of two of the discs below) and these are already available. I shall be looking out for these and the rest of this series, whatever their place in Naxos’s grand scheme. I shall also await volume 28 with anticipation - perhaps it might contain some original music by Liszt?

This is a magnificent disc and listening to it is a truly uplifting experience.

-- Patrick C. Waller, MusicWeb International

Includes work(s) for harp by John Thomas. Soloist: Lipman Harp Duo.

The eldest son of Johann Sebastian Bach was hailed as the greatest organist in his time. Living in a time of transition, Wilhelm Friedemann Bach forged his own highly original style, combining the traditional writing learned from his father.

Sir Peter Maxwell Davies’ ballet Caroline Mathilde premièred in 1991 and has been highly acclaimed ever since. Its story concerns the tragic marriage of Caroline to Christian VII of Denmark and is cast in a musical language that embraces expressionism, drama, parody, and overt lyricism. The two concert suites chart the young queen’s fall from grace and her eventual banishment into exile. Chat Moss is a richly textured tone poem, while by contrast the Ojai Festival Overture is a lively and extrovert concert piece reflecting Maxwell Davies’ fondness for American landscape and culture. Recorded between 1991-95 and previously released by the now defunct Collins Classics, the Naxos label has been consistently lauded in the musical press for making available once again these and many other recordings by arguably the greatest British composer of the second half of the 20th c., that, in some cases, remain the only recordings of these works.

The works on this recording embrace a varied miscellany of Peter Maxwell Davies’ orchestraloutput from the early 1990s. The ‘choreographic poem’ The Beltane Fire pits the sternness of theReformation clergy against the pagan traditions of the Orkney Islands. Concerned withenvironmental pollution, The Turn of the Tide ultimately reaches “a triumphant dance of allcreation”, while the Threnody and Pavan are poignant memorial tributes for significant figuresin the composer’s life.

GINASTERA Pampeana No. 2. 5 canciones populares argentinas (arr. Kosower). Puneña No. 2, “Homage à Paul Sacher.” Cello Sonata • Mark Kosower (vc); Jee-Won Oh (pn) • NAXOS 8.570569 (52:10)


Ginastera was one of those composers who, in continually evolving and experimenting, could not easily be pinned down stylistically. His famous Harp Concerto, written for Osian Ellis, is as different from his stark, atonal opera Bomarzo (still one of the neglected masterpieces of the 20th century) as night is from day. Yet despite his evolution, he did break his music into three styles: objective nationalism, subjective nationalism, and neo-Expressionism. Cellist Mark Kosower presents all three styles here by transcribing the Cinco canciones populares (“Five Popular Songs”), music of objective nationalism, from their original voice setting to the cello. The CD, however, starts with a subjective work, the Pampeana No. 2 , in which folk music is never actually quoted but suggested in his original themes. Compressing four sections into one continuous piece lasting only nine minutes, Ginastera tried to capture the alternating feelings of ebullience, awe, and melancholy that crossing the pampas evoked in him. It is a marvelous piece, played with tremendous élan by Kosower and Oh.


I found this transcription of the five popular Argentine songs to be effective but not entirely convincing as cello music. It’s the sort of piece that I’m sure I would enjoy in a live concert setting, but listening on record, I found myself becoming restless. Some of this, however, stems from Oh’s piano accompaniment, which I found carefully crafted but emotionally cold. Kosower plays with warmth of tone and generous spirit, but these are still songs. I want to hear a voice, I want to hear words. Falla’s Popular Spanish Songs works for the violin; these do not translate quite as well, at least not for me.


Ginatsera’s neo-Expressionist period, his last and longest (1958–1983), is the one that includes both the unaccompanied Puneña No. 2 and the Cello Sonata. The first work is intended to capture the feelings of the mysterious world of the Inca Empire, and is divided into two movements, a melancholy love song (“Harawi”) and a wild carnival dance (“Wayno karnavalito”). I personally found Kosower’s performance of the first movement to be lacking in atmosphere. Whether this is due to the actual music or merely his interpretation of it is difficult to determine. In the second movement, Kosower has great energy for the Argentinean rhythms, and the highly imaginative writing (including octave glisses into the stratosphere and rapid finger triplets) brings out some wonderful effects on the cello. This was, for me, one of the highlights of the entire recital, and I was sorry when it was over.


The Cello Sonata is a real masterpiece in every respect. From its opening jagged rhythms to the sizzling finale, this is a work that constantly entertains as it challenges the listener. Despite an almost constant use of bitonality and tone clusters, there is an almost modal feeling to the first movement—at least, until the music melts down into the collegamento section. The music still hovers around tone clusters, but its range is tightly circumscribed. The second movement, an Adagio passionato, is extremely odd. To begin with, the music moves at a snail’s pace, more of a Lento than an Adagio. For another, there is no forward propulsion at all. In a way, this sounds like subconscious music, very close to the effects created by “automatic composers.” Every phrase sounds as if it were being improvised into being—at least, until the piano begins a more energetic rumbling, followed later on by dramatic singing, flourishes, and suspenseful silences in the cadenza. The third movement, Presto mormoroso, is a murmuring piece that begins with a note here and there, the instruments alternating as if in dialogue. Both instruments climb into the upper registers as piano flourishes suspend time at the movement’s midpoint. The change in pitch begins the musical inversion; at the cello’s reentry, the two instruments play in retrograde back to the beginning, disappearing into nothingness. The final movement is an uninhibited romp, starting in marcato clusters before moving into wild passages combining sonata form with a toccata and complex interplay between the two instruments. As Kosower puts it in the liner notes, “The explosive nature of the music is fueled by syncopated dance rhythms including the Karnavalito, obsessive running sixteenth notes, sudden shifts in material, and a boldness of character.”


Overall, the performance of the Sonata is quite good; even pianist Oh plays with more boldness than on the other pieces. It is certainly finer than the poorly recorded version by Carter Brey and Christopher O’Riley (Helicon) and, in the recording by the Sonata’s dedicatee, Aurora Natola (Pierian), her superb work is undercut by the rhythmically driving but lead-footed playing of pianist Barbara Nissman. I feel that the other performances could be improved on somewhat, but this is still an interesting disc and a good place to start in these works.

FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Ahhh, the sweet sound of the Romantic (that’s with a capital “R”) violin. These are the sorts of pieces that from the latter 19th century until, oh, sometime in the 1950s were played and taught and loved by almost anyone who enjoyed classical music. Émile Sauret (1852-1920) was a virtuoso—a prodigy who began publicly performing at age eight—who also could write some pretty decent pieces for his instrument, ones that didn’t just show off technique but turned out some fine melodies and showed a capacity for developing ideas into cohesive, attractive miniatures and some extended pieces as well—the Souvenir de Los Angeles, Scherzo fantastique, and the delightful Farfalla (butterfly) that nicely integrates the piano with the violin in a true fantasy of lepidopteran aerobatics.

Michi Wiancko is certainly comfortable in this repertoire, dashing off runs, arpeggios, multiple-stops, and all manner of fancy bowing with the ease we’ve come to expect these days from fearless young performers. But she and her able partner, pianist Dina Vainshtein, really make music out of it all, relishing the style and expressive possibilities whether evoking ringing bells, the “orient”, a gondolier’s song, or, as mentioned, a butterfly. And Wiancko can really dig into or barely alight on a string as required—and at a second’s notice. These works are described as “lyrical, playful, ethereal, and ecstatic,” and that just about describes both the music and the playing here. The sound is excellent too. Terrific!

-- David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

Winner of the of the 2005 German Music Competition, the 2005 Stuttgart International Cello Competition and the 2006 Adam International Cello Competition, New Zealand, as well as the recipient of a 2009 Borletti Buitoni Fellowship.

Domenico Scarlatti is renowned for his remarkable keyboard sonatas, some 555 of which are known. Written for performance on the various keyboard instruments of the Spanish court where he was employed for many years, they have long provided a valuable repertoire for pianists. On Volume 13 in Naxos’s highly praised and popular series, the young Chinese pianist Chu-Fang Huang, who in 2005 won First Prize in the Cleveland International Piano Competition and was a finalist in the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, interprets sixteen of these influential 18th-century mini-masterpieces.