There has been a notable absence of British piano music in concerts and recordings made over the last thirty five years or so and it is therefore to be applauded that Naxos started to produce a ‘British Piano Concertos’ series. Fortunately this has increased the number of works by Thomas Pitfield available to us on CD.

Born in the first years of the twentieth century and belonging to a generation of composers whose works found their way into the concert hall following the Second World War, Thomas Pitfield was a largely self-taught composer who wrote prolifically for all kinds of instruments and for every type of ensemble.

Folk music influenced the style and form of his compositions but always remained subservient to self-expression. Of the pieces recorded here, it is most apparent in the second Piano Concerto (The Oak and the Ash) and the Studies on an English Dance-Tune (Jenny Pluck Pears).

Good craftsmanship is a quality ever present in Pitfield’s music and readily reveals itself in Piano Concerto No.1 in E minor. It was written in 1946-47 for Stephen Wearing who gave the first performance with the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra under the direction of Hugo Rignold in November 1949. This concerto is one of Pitfield’s best large-scale works, presenting the soloist with some technical problems which Anthony Goldstone, well supported by Andrew Penny and the RNCM Orchestra, copes with admirably.

The interplay between piano and orchestra, especially in the canonic treatment of the first theme in the opening movement, is skilfully marked by clarity of line and texture in this performance. The canonic writing here is not only important as a hint of the canonic compression of the final movement’s rondo theme at the end of the work, but a hallmark of Pitfield’s style.

The outer two movements of the concerto are brilliant but the composer’s invention, musical charm and beauty show themselves to good effect in the middle movement which has a memorable main theme of some solemnity. Here too is a short, and beautifully written, mysterious scherzo-like section, deftly realized by the soloist.

Moments such as this, along with Anthony Goldstone’s generally sympathetic interpretation, lift the music to a level of inspiration beyond the simply pleasing and tasteful.

The length and form of Piano Concerto No.2 was governed by the restrictions imposed by the commissioner, Max Hinrichsen, who was looking for a miniature concerto for the use of American piano students in performance auditions. The result is a work of very unusual form but the main characteristics are unmistakably Pitfield. A quotation from Milton at the head of the score sums it up well – “… and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity”.

Inventiveness is the keynote of this work. The first movement (Dance-Prologue) using three simple tunes on the white keys treated with ostinati, hymn-like harmonization, various rhythms and decoration, is followed by a scherzo (Interlude on White Keys) of running figures and modal melody.

The last movement is curious in that it embodies both the slow movement and the finale presented as a set of variations on the English folksong, ‘The Oak and the Ash’. Here the performers enjoy themselves in the playful rhythms of the first and third variations which are separated by a delightfully contemplative variation scored for piano alone.

Both concertos are recorded with good piano presence and endowed with the rhythmic energy so essential to the composer’s style.

The works for solo piano should not disappoint as Pitfield’s favoured 5/8 and 7/8 rhythms, pianistic decoration and harmonies of almost French flavour, can all be found in his tuneful music. Studies on an English Dance-Tune, written for John McCabe who first performed it whilst still a student at the RMCM in 1961, subjects the folk tune, ‘Jenny Pluck Pears,’ to various rhythmic, modal and playing techniques in seven short movements. Peter Donohoe’s technique and artistry show themselves to good effect in this and the other two works for solo piano included on the disc.

Although an early piece, Arietta and Finale is all one would expect of the composer but it is the Toccata, written for Lucy Pierce and published in 1953, which demands the listener’s attention with its exuberance.

Always looking to the needs of performers, Pitfield often found himself writing for unusual instruments or combinations of instruments when required. His four movement Xylophone Sonata, composed for the Hallé Orchestra’s principal percussionist, Eric Woolliscroft, and superbly executed here by Peter Donohoe, is a work that falls into that category. This lively piece using 7/8 and 10/8 rhythms was published in 1967 and deserves to be heard.

All in all, this collection of works is truly representative of Thomas Pitfield’s output of music for piano. The recording gives much pleasure and, for those who are not already familiar with his music, it is well worth exploring at superbudget price.



-- Stuart Scott, MusicWeb International

Saint-Saëns uses a solo double-bass to comical effect in the Carnival of the Animals where it represents the elephant moving with ponderous grace to the Dance of the Sylphs by Berlioz. For Bottesini there was nothing comical about the instrument. He was after all a virtuoso of the double-bass, giving many successful concert tours all over Europe and the Americas. As if to prove just how serious the instrument can be, he wrote not only solos but many works for two double-basses. All those on this disc apart from the Gran Duetto also include the piano, but its role is essentially subordinate, even where its part may be technically demanding, as in the Concerto.

The sound of the solo double-bass, even when playing in its highest register and therefore able to match the actual notes played by a cello, is wholly different from that instrument. Indeed it is in some ways more akin to that of a viol, partly due to the lack of the fierce continuous vibrato that most professional cellists employ today. It is nonetheless a compelling sound, and after the initial surprise has worn off, it is far more than a mere comical curiosity. However on the evidence of the works included here, Bottesini was by no means an innovative composer. Not merely is the first work based on themes by Rossini but the language of the others is closely related to that of the older master. All make enormous technical demands on the two bass players. I have never attempted to play the instrument and have long admired those able to gauge accurately the long distance between notes on the strings. I can only guess as to how certain passages which seem to demand superhuman dexterity can be played on something so apparently unwieldy. The two players here display great bravura, playing fine instruments by Landolfi and Testore loaned specially for the recording.

All four of the works on the disc have three movements each, but the Gran Duetto is by some way the longest, being nearly twice as long as any of the others. Unfortunately it is also by some way the least interesting and most conventional in its themes and structure. However, it is certainly worth hearing once, even if one is unlikely to want to repeat the experience often. The other pieces are worth repeating. Overall an out of the way but rewarding disc whose strange but characterful sounds resonate in the memory.

-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International

Emotional Soviet solo cello. If that’s what you’re looking for, this is hard to beat.

Mieczyslaw Weinberg’s solo cello sonatas are considerably more interesting than his preludes for the same instrument, which I reviewed here a few months ago. They aren’t a direct response to Bach, but very much Weinberg himself, a voice not far removed from Shostakovich’s, but with occasional added flavors of Jewish melody and jazz.

These sonatas are all very much of their composer: recognizably Soviet, emotionally quite austere, harmonically bittersweet. But they are written fluently and there are terrific moments: the transition from slow movement to impassioned finale in Sonata No 2, the uncommonly charming allegretto in No 3, the ethereal muted presto of the same sonata, and the otherworldly original andante to No 4, in which cellist Josef Feigelson (who also wrote the excellent notes) points out traces of Hindemith.

On the other hand, this music won’t have mass appeal. The occasional grayness of the writing — we don’t quite have Shostakovich’s emotional range here — and the fact that Weinberg’s style appears not to have changed very much between 1964 and 1986 means that this is the kind of disc you only put on the stereo when you’re in a very specific mood, or if you’re a very specific listener. That isn’t true of Weinberg’s stunning cello concerto, a rich, generous masterwork which works through a series of lush tunes in one broad emotional circle, and I think that my slight bitterness here may be due to the fact that I was expecting something along those lines and didn’t get it. The cello concerto is currently only available on Brilliant, in its live Rostropovich box, though Chandos has recorded a similarly good cello fantasy so there may be hope.

Josef Feigelson recorded this disc, and its companion, as a compendium of Weinberg’s complete cello music in the 1990s, very shortly after the composer’s death - learning the sonatas from the original manuscripts. Certainly his playing here is not to be faulted, and, as was true of the first volume, a more impassioned advocate of the music is hard to imagine. The sound is not too close, the cello tone full and darkly rich. Weinberg’s masterwork for the instrument remains the astonishing Cello Concerto, but these sonatas are very good in their way too. If you’ve been waiting for moody Soviet solo cello work, your ship has come in.

-- Brian Reinhart, MusicWeb International

Since it's foundation in 1979, the Ex Novo Ensemble has explored the international panorama of new music, particularly works that, although very beautiful, remain little known.

J.S. Bach: St. John Passion

Sir John Dankworth was inspired by Benny Goodman' playing to study clarinet at the Royal Academy: his delightful Suite for Emma was composed for Emma Johnson, former BBC Young Musician of the Year, who performs it on this disc.

Includes work(s) by Marco Pereira, Joao Pernambuco. Soloist: Graham Anthony Devine.
Includes work(s) for gtr by various composers. Soloist: Graham Anthony Devine.

Featuring such well-known names as Ethel Smyth and Elizabeth Maconchy, as well as less familiar female composers, the works on this disc illuminate a crucial but under-explored aspect of musical life in late 19th- and early 20th-century Britain.

ALBÉNIZ Danzas españolas. Pequeños valses. Mazurkas de salon • Guillermo González (pn) • NAXOS 8.572196 (69:42)


Isaac Albéniz wrote some of the defining piano music of the Spanish school. By and large, this is not it. This disc, the third in Naxos’s Albéniz series, is devoted to salon music composed early in the composer’s life. At the time, he was known as a piano virtuoso who also gave lessons to young ladies to whom he dedicated many of his salon pieces, including all six of these mazurkas.


Premonitions of the mature Albéniz may be glimpsed in the Danzas españolas , which shares a pleasant lilt, usually in habanera rhythm, and the composer’s predilection for a melodic line in three against a languid accompanying figure in four. The pieces resemble Granados’s later set of Spanish Dances in their occasional underlying hint of melancholy, but those in Albéniz’s set are neither as formally diverse nor as pianistically challenging as are those of his slightly younger contemporary. Chopin is the predominant influence in the sets of waltzes and mazurkas. Once again the results, while mellifluous and polished, are no comparison to the works of the Polish master in terms of ingenuity and memorability.


González, a noted Albéniz specialist, has the kind of muscular technique necessary to tackle Iberia and the late masterpieces, but lacks delicacy in this refined repertoire. There would be no whispering or throat clearing in his salon! Overall, this is a pleasant collection but unrepresentative of the composer’s most exciting work. If you are curious about the antecedents of Iberia , it is worth a listen.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

Includes song(s) by Ralph Vaughan Williams.

A good introduction to Azeri music with riotous orchestral colours, wit and panache.

Fikret Amirov will likely inspire comparisons to Aram Khachaturian, as a result of his penchant for exotic folk-tunes and spectacular orchestration. But the comparisons will also likely be thanks to geographical convenience: both composers hailed from the Caucasus (Amirov from Azerbaijan, Khachaturian from Georgia) and both drew their inspiration from the musical traditions of their homelands. While it is true that anybody who likes Khachaturian, or Ippolitov-Ivanov, or indeed Rimsky-Korsakov or Borodin, will love this music too, Amirov has a distinctive voice and to describe his work via comparisons is to shortchange it.

This CD compiles four of Amirov’s orchestral fantasies, entitled symphonic mugams. A mugam is, according to the booklet notes by Anastasia Belina, “a highly improvisatory … large rhapsodic musical form” alternating between song and dance episodes, popular in Azeri musical tradition. Amirov’s father was a mugam singer and creator of folk songs, and the younger composer, in adapting the mugam for symphony orchestra, seems to have taken the adjectives “large” and “rhapsodic” to heart. Shur and Kyurdi Ovshari, especially, are lengthy works which leap from one contrasting idea to another for quite some time before ending rather arbitrarily.

So I am afraid this is not music for those who like their works carefully structured, their tunes developed, or their transitions to lead with rigorous correctness from an idea to its logical counterpart. On the other hand, Amirov’s music is hugely attractive at the surface level, because many of the tunes are great, the dances are all energetic and brightly scored, and the parade of exotic sounds and colours never ceases.

Shur opens with an ominous drumbeat and extended dialogue between the bass clarinet and violas; over its course we encounter a good deal of sensuous music in the tradition of Scheherazade and Gayaneh’s Adagio, a tambourine-led dance episode, influences of Arabic music on the sleek string lines, solo episodes for flute and oboe, and a quiet ending. Kyurdi Ovshari opens with a sultry tease of a tune on the clarinet, but this melody only barely makes it to the fifth minute before being replaced by a full-string-section tune that actually reminds me of Gershwin and then a dialogue between the orchestra’s sections that is rather stop-and-go until a very surprising cadenza at 8:30 - I won’t betray the identity of the solo instrument. The last six minutes of Kyurdi Ovshari might be the most exciting music on the whole CD.

Gyulistan Bayati Shiraz begins quite ominously, with a moment in the spotlight for the double basses and a considerably more ‘modern’ tonal idiom. There are fewer tunes in this work, then, and more concessions to the music of Amirov’s western contemporaries, although his style is still very accessible. The surprise soloist from Kyurdi Ovshari returns to play a major role.

Azerbaijan Capriccio, the short final piece, bears a startling resemblance to many subsequent war movie soundtracks. The brash opening, then, makes me grin, as do subsequent allusions to Khachaturian’s Violin Concerto. There’s a lovely atmosphere in the episode after 2:40, and some really rip-roaring brass writing throughout. This shortest of the mugams quite concisely captures all the qualities that make Amirov’s music so much fun.

Several instruments of the orchestra benefit from more attention than usual due to their close connections with Azeri folk instruments: the violas, for instance, are called on to do their best to imitate the stringed kamancheh, and the flutes sometimes mimic the deeper, more soulful sound of the ney. The Russian Philharmonic Orchestra responds with enthusiastic, exciting performances, led by maestro Dmitry Yablonsky, who perhaps cannot save the first half of Kyurdi Ovshari from being a bit repetitive but who leads all the music with commitment and zest.

Sound quality is superb; in fact, this is one of the most clearly-engineered Naxos recordings I have heard. The parts of the orchestra are balanced very well, all of the dozens of solos sound quite natural without being artificially ‘enhanced,’ and the recording is close enough to make climaxes very exciting indeed. One can even hear the contrabassoon buzzing away like an intimidating insect in Kyurdi Ovshari. Several of Amirov’s symphonic mugams were previously recorded by Leopold Stokowski on the Everest label in the 1950s, and I have not heard those performances, unfortunately, but cannot imagine them being superior enough in playing or sound to justify the extra labour of trying to locate them.

This compact disc is well worth your time for several reasons: as an introduction to the lavish music of Fikret Amirov and as a free holiday through the sights and sounds of exotic Azerbaijan, and for a hilarious booklet photograph of conductor Dmitry Yablonsky. The music, the performances, and, yes, even the artist photo are each worth the price of admission, which means that for those interested in this type of music I can safely give this disc my strongest recommendation.

For those hungry for more Amirov, Naxos has recorded an elegiac symphony for string orchestra on a disc called “Caucasian Impressions,” and several works for flute and piano have appeared on BIS. But we are just scratching the surface. This album’s notes inform me that Amirov composed “operas, ballets, symphonies, symphonic poems, symphonic mugams, suites, piano concertos, sonatas, musical comedies … incidental stage music, and film music.” Looking online, I see there is a “double concerto” for violin, piano, and orchestra, a ballet based on the Arabian Nights, an “Azerbaijan” Orchestral Suite, and a handful of works for saxophone and orchestra. Naxos, please let this CD be only the beginning!

-- Brian Reinhart, MusicWeb International

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Let's face it, Shur sounds suspiciously like the third movement of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, and if the opening of the Azerbaijan Capriccio isn't Lohengrin orientalized (Act 3 prelude), then I don't know what is. But who cares? The music is delightful, colorful, tuneful, and unabashed fun. And Fikret Amirov's style, even in these works, did evolve, sort of. The third of his Symphonic Mugams--Gyulistan Bayati Shiraz--features interesting writing for piano and saxophone, and has a more concise form and less obviously 19th-century harmonic patina. Amirov also wrote symphonies, and it would be interesting to hear them.

The performances here are pretty much the best available. Leopold Stokowski introduced most of us to Amirov with his Everest recording of Kyurdi Ovshari, a couple of minutes quicker than this one. Of the two other recordings of this work (and some of the others), the one on Olympia is rather droopy, while Antonio de Almeida on ASV is aptly lively, but his Moscow Symphony isn't as good an ensemble as the Russian Philharmonic. Dmitry Yablonsky (a scary picture of whom appears in the CD booklet), seems to get the tempos just right. He's exciting in the quick bits and lusciously romantic in the big tunes. The engineering is also very good. Very enjoyable indeed.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

KORNGOLD Violin Concerto. Overture to a Drama. Much Ado about Nothing: Concert Suite • Carlos Miguel Prieto, cond; Philippe Quint (vn); Mineria SO • NAXOS 8.570791 (53:40)


Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Violin Concerto once seemed the almost exclusive domain of Jascha Heifetz, whose recording remained for a long time alone in the Schwann catalog. More recently, Itzhak Perlman (Angel 47746), Gil Shaham (Deutsche Grammophon 439 886, 18:3), and Anne-Sophie Mutter (Deutsche Grammophon 000352602, 28:5), to name only several of the most prominent violinists, have recorded it, and they’ve been joined in the last several years by Leonidas Kavakos, Hilary Hahn (both on DVD), Nikolaj Znaider (RCA 710336, 32:6), James Ehnes (CBC 5241, 32:3), Paul Waltman (Daphne 1032, also 32:3)—and now by Philippe Quint, so that the work at last boasts almost as many recordings as Bruch’s First Concerto did in the early 1960s. Heifetz’s white-hot inspiration would be hard for anyone to match; besides his studio recording, there’s another live one from March 30, 1947, with Efrem Kurtz on Music & Arts 766.


Like the more recent violinists to tackle the Concerto, Quint emphasizes its sweep and lyricism, soaring to moments of rapturous intensity that make their point unmistakably, even if Heifetz’s indelible performance lurks in the background. Quint makes the first movement cogent, never either stale or derivative—and certainly not as percussive to the bone as Heifetz’s crisp staccato made it seem. In fact, if it sounds like one of the great Romantic masterpieces in Naxos’s recording, that may be as much due to Quint, or to Prieto and the orchestra, who provide a sympathetic and, in the slow movement, a magical accompaniment, as to the composer’s virtuosity. Quint plays throughout with a silvery tone that’s warm even in the middle registers and with a great capacity for expressive nuance; while it’s clear that he’s thoroughly in command of the work’s abundant technical difficulties, he never lets them overwhelm the score’s essential melodiousness. Prieto presents the finale’s boisterous first theme with a robust energy that hearkens unmistakably back to its cinematic origins, and he reaches a stunning climax several minutes before the end. That so many recordings of Korngold’s Violin Concerto have achieved so great a stylistic success, though hardly all poured from the same mold—or even from similar ones—attests to the understanding Korngold must have had of the instrument and its expressive resources. Quint’s stands near the top (though all the recordings I’ve mentioned can be highly recommended), not least because of Prieto’s sympathetic accompaniment and the lively recording, which places Quint farther up front, than, say, RCA placed Znaider.


Korngold’s Overture to a Drama , from his 14th year, may not display the same maturity as his Violin Concerto, but it prefigures its sumptuous melodic style and its harmonic lavishness, if not the slickness of its brightly variegated orchestration. In fact, it may be a weakness in the orchestration itself rather than any aspect of Prieto’s performance that prevents the score from making a very deep impression. Korngold adapted the Concert Suite from Much Ado about Nothing for violin and piano, but the full score’s rich orchestral garb makes it even more effective in that more penetratingly witty original version. Prieto and the orchestra generously serve up the youthful and rambunctious good humor of the Suite. The recorded sound throughout combines depth and clarity, and places the soloist in a balance with the ensemble that’s natural if forward. Very highly recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham


Philippe Quint turns in one of the most appealing, least "sticky" performances of Korngold's Violin Concerto yet recorded. If you usually find the piece too kitschy, then you really need to hear this. Like Heifetz, Quint adopts generally swift tempos, and this pays huge dividends in the opening movement--too often the piece sounds like it features two slow movements in a row. Here there is urgency along with passion, and a wonderful lightness in passagework that sustains the melodic thread even in the sections containing multiple stopping--and there are a lot of them. Quint's effortless technique also permits him to find all of the puckish humor in the finale. The tunes come from Korngold's film score to The Prince and the Pauper, after all.

A good bit of the credit for the success of this performance must go to conductor Carlos Prieto and his Mexican orchestra. It doesn't sound like a large ensemble, and that's all to the good. Korngold's orchestration doesn't need to be drowned in strings: it benefits greatly from the transparency on display here, both in terms of balance in the Violin Concerto and also in the Schauspiel Overture. Korngold was only 14 when he wrote the overture, and it's a fully mature and very enjoyable piece in its own right. The adorable suite from Much Ado About Nothing has plenty of charm, and some good horn playing in the finale. A slightly over-prominent, wheezy harmonium in the suite represents the only strike against this otherwise well-engineered production. Definitely recommended.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

SZYMANOWSKI: Piano Works, Vol. 4

The opening theme of Ernö Dohnányi's Violin Concerto No. 1 (1915) sounds strikingly like something out of a Harry Potter film, creating the same kind of minor-key-mysterious atmosphere--that is until the solo violin enters with its agitated pronouncements. Often it sounds as if the violin were not at all pleased with this introductory mood and does its best to dispel it. But then the soothing second theme steals in, and the violin is at least temporarily calmed. Dohnányi's solo writing is stunning in its originality and virtuosity, yet violinist Michael Ludwig presents it with confidence, poise, and polish. The serene Andante ushers in a beguiling tranquil mood before the lively scherzo dances about. Dohnányi's theme and variations finale blatantly borrows from the same movement in Brahms' Symphony No. 1, but happily, Dohnányi's less pretentious finale is a lot more fun, even with the return of the first movement's darker theme.

Violin Concerto No. 2 was completed more than three decades later in 1949, and right away the change in the composer's harmonic language shows in the dissonant opening violin cadenza. But far from being atonal or modernist, Dohnányi's work continues the tradition of consonant tonality, albeit a little stretched at the edges. This gives the music great expressive range, and the first movement surges with drama and emotion. As with the First concerto, this one also is in four movements, though they fit within the usual concerto duration (about 30 minutes--10 minutes shorter than No. 1). A charming intermezzo comes second, followed by a lovely and lyrical Adagio. The buoyant allegro finale brings the work to a happy conclusion. Again the violin writing is superb (wonderfully rendered by Ludwig), as is the accompaniment, fleshed out in the composer's robust and colorful orchestration, and beautifully performed by JoAnn Falletta and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. Naxos' spacious recording has satisfying bloom, presence, and wide dynamic range. These are excellent pieces that ought to be in the modern performance repertory. If you don't know these works, you owe to yourself to hear this disc.

--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

Includes work(s) by Mario Pilati. Ensemble: Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra. Conductor: Adrianno.

Somervell's four songs on poems from William Blake's Songs of Innocence were written in 1889, dedicated to Dolly and Gwen, and simple and child-like in form and appeal, perfectly crafted examples of such work. The song cycle based on Tennyson's monodrama Maud dates from 1898. There are thirteen songs in the whole work that traces the story from the memories of the suicide of the protagonist's father, ruined by unfortunate speculation, making his son's match with Maud, daughter of his father's closest friend, and his betrayer, impossible. Three of these are included here. Maud's family return to the Hall and gradually the young man at the heart of the drama falls in love with her again. In the fifth song of Somervell's cycle, Birds in the high Hall-garden, the lovers meet, before Maud returns to the house, with the flowers she has picked. The verses that tell of the arrival of another to woo her are omitted. The seventh song, Go not, happy day, expresses the love of the couple. The first part of the poem ends with the words that provide the ninth song of Somervell's cycle, Come into the garden, Maud, words perhaps more familiar in the setting by Balfe. The singer calls Maud to the garden, as he hears the sound of music from the Hall, where he has not been invited. As she approaches, he is in ecstasy, but the song does not tell how their meeting is to be interrupted by Maud's brother, his quarrel with her lover, and her brother's death in the dreadful hollow, where the drama had started. In the remaining songs Maud's lover seeks exile abroad and goes out of his mind, while Maud, in his absence, dies. The cycle ends with the singer's resolve to meet his fate in war for his country. The song cycle derived from Robert Browning's James Lee's Wife was published in 1907 with a dedication to Marie Brema, a Liverpool-born singer of German-American parentage who, in 1894, was the first English-born singer to appear at Bayreuth, where she sang Ortrud in Lohengrin and Kundry in Parsifal. James Lee's Wife first appeared, under the title James Lee, in 1864 in Browning's Dramatis Personae and from the original nine poems Somervell takes five. The first version has an orchestral accompaniment, but the songs were later arranged for an accompaniment of piano quintet, and then simply with a piano accompaniment. As in other dramatic monologues by Browning, the woman of the title reveals her story, telling first of changing love, more dramatically in the second song, By the Fireside, as she tells of the rot and rust, run to dust, of a ship seemingly safe in port, as she and her husband had seemed. The same idea continues in the third song, In the Doorway, from which the middle two verses of the original poem are omitted. In the fifth of Browning's poems, On the Cliff, she sings of the parched vegetation on the rock and how from this may come color and life, as with the minds of men. The cycle ends with the seventh of Browning's poems, Among the Rocks, in which she proclaims her message that If you loved only what were worth your love, / Love were clear gain.

Click here for all of Robert Craft's recordings on Naxos

Sephardic music, from the ancient domain of al-Andalus, lies at the heart of of this selection of songs in remembrance of a lost homeland. The word endechar comes from a time before the expulsion of the Jews and their culture from Spain in 1492; wit.

An invigorating and very enjoyable reading of this fine symphony.

This is the second instalment in Marin Alsop’s ongoing Brahms cycle. Both its predecessor and this latest offering have been widely praised by colleagues. I’ve heard her both on radio and on disc in twentieth century repertoire but I’d yet to encounter her in "standard" repertoire so I was curious to hear her in Brahms and especially in what has long been my favourite of the four symphonies.

She immediately scores high marks with me for taking the exposition repeat in the first movement. This is not so often done. I can understand why conductors omit the repeat for there is an issue of structural balance. Taking the repeat elongates the first movement by some five minutes - in this performance - and thereby means that, in Ms Alsop’s hands, the first movement accounts for 20:05 of the 44:51 that she takes for the whole symphony. So there is a danger of imbalance but I must say I didn’t feel that this particular reading was unbalanced and, in any case, why wouldn’t one wish to hear such wonderful music twice? Also, omitting the repeat means that the first time bars must be left out and that’s a pity since the music they contain is well worth hearing, as Ms Alsop demonstrates.

In his good liner-note Robert Pascall rightly draws attention to the dark side of this movement. The Second is conventionally regarded as Brahms’s sunniest symphony and many conductors focus on that side rather than the darker element, which is mainly to be found in the development section. Marin Alsop, it seems to me, is one such and I don’t find that her interpretation brings out the dark side of the music. That’s not to disparage her reading in any way. A "sunny" approach is perfectly valid and, in any case, even if you appreciate a performance that hints at deeper waters, as I do, you may not want to hear such a reading every day. A couple of years ago, for example, I reviewed what I thought was an exceptionally unsettling account of this movement by Furtwängler. Tremendously impressive though that was, it wouldn’t do for everyday listening. No, it seems to me that Marin Alsop gives us a well-imagined and highly enjoyable rendition of this movement, one which is built on rhythmic vitality, warm phrasing and excellent attention to dynamics.

Ms. Alsop judges the start of the second movement beautifully, encouraging the celli to sing out. Later there’s excellent work by the LPO’s principal horn and, indeed, this is matched by the other wind soloists. Ms. Alsop clearly loves this music and under her guidance the strings phrase generously. She pays great attention to sustaining the musical line and this I like very much. In the central section of the movement there’s just the right amount of powerful projection before the return of the warm lyricism that characterised the opening paragraphs.

There’s some nice, pert wind playing at the start of the Allegretto and later the strings match their wind colleagues in agility. This movement is a fairly brief interlude in the overall scheme of things, a bit of a musical sorbet in fact. Here it receives a fresh and engaging reading.

Ms. Alsop catches well the mood of suppressed energy at the start of the finale. Once Brahms increases the volume she presses the music home splendidly, striking a balance between energy and lyricism that seems to me to be extremely well judged. The end of this ebullient movement is irresistibly jubilant here with the LPO brass, who have served their conductor well throughout the whole performance, well to the fore.

In summary, this is an invigorating and very enjoyable reading of this fine symphony. The LPO plays attentively and with commitment. On the evidence of this release, this Brahms cycle is not one that’s being made just for the sake of it but rather because Marin Alsop wanted to do it and has something definite to say about the music.

As a filler we’re offered eight of the Hungarian Dances, three of them in orchestrations by Brahms, the remainder in orchestral dress tailored for them by Dvo?ák. I have to confess that these pieces aren’t really my cup of tea but they are well done. In common with a lot of so-called light music these dances aren’t easy to do well. On this occasion the performances benefit from enthusiastic playing. Equally important is the fact that the dances are shaped affectionately by Marin Alsop, who displays a good, intuitive sense of rubato.

A most enjoyable disc which can be recommended confidently and enthusiastically.

-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

Okay, we all know that at this point no one needs a new Brahms cycle, but this first installment has one thing going for it: Marin Alsop appears to be a fine Brahms conductor. She begins the First Symphony with an introduction that would have made Klemperer sit up and take notice: it's that grand and imposing. Happily, she also launches the allegro (exposition repeat retained) with genuine thrust and energy, while her generous rubato as she relaxes into the second subject is effortlessly managed--and she builds to the recapitulation with plenty of excitement and rhythmic tension. This is the genuine article, make no mistake. The slow movement reveals the same beautifully controlled transitions, the tempo nicely flowing, marred only by an insensitive solo violin, too closely miked.


The third movement reveals one other small flaw in the performance: rather faceless wind playing from clarinets and oboes (to some degree a function of the forward string balances and generous reverberation that otherwise serves the music to impressive effect). Alsop builds the brooding introduction to the finale with an unerring feel for the music's atmosphere, though I wish she had launched the movement proper with a swifter account of the "big tune". To her credit, though, she doesn't lurch forward at the forte counterstatement, but rather accumulates energy naturally. The coda goes really well, with an impressive feeling of culmination, and Alsop takes care to make the trombones audible in the final bars, a nice touch that sets the seal on a very distinguished effort.


The two overtures are no less impressive. Of course, the Academic Festival is practically unkillable, but Alsop's pointed rhythms help project the music's joyous humor while preventing the familiar tunes from sounding foursquare. Her Tragic Overture is one of the best, at a tempo remarkably close to Ancerl's benchmark interpretation--which is to say slowish and implacably serious. At this speed, the rich harmonies of the second subject and throughout the development really tell, and the climaxes have time to register with the necessary impact. I look forward very much to the next installments in this series.


As I said, the market doesn't really need this, but Naxos is right to let Alsop shine in the music she identifies with most strongly, and her Brahms certainly qualifies. Besides, wonderful though it is to conduct lots of Barber, Reich, and Glass, the fact remains that careers are made in the standard repertoire, where comparisons with illustrious interpretations past and present are made. Certainly on evidence here Alsop has nothing to fear from the competition. If the rest of this cycle remains at this high level (that is, if she pegs the finale of the Second Symphony and becomes one of the very few conductors to play the Third really well), then I would say her reputation will be secure for some time to come.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The fantasia was in the process of being adapted for keyboard from lute and consort music during William Byrd’s youth, and his formidable mastery of counterpoint brought the form to a pinnacle equivalent to his matchless vocal works. These splendours combine with lively dances and virtuoso display and quotations from songs of love and death. They also may hold fascinating symbols which mark secret Catholic allegiances, a gift for Elizabeth I, and a memorial to the tragic Mary, Queen of Scots. Our cover image shows the only possible contemporary impression of Byrd, as a Gentleman of the Chapel Royal at the funeral of Elizabeth I.

RODRIGO: Concierto Madrigal / Concierto para una Fiesta (Com

Rodrigo: Concierto in modo galante - Concierto de Estio

Includes suite(s) by Johann Sebastian Bach.

Hanno Koivula and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra turn in very good performances of these two works. Symphony No. 7, a beautifully luminous piece that has helped to establish Rautavaara's high reputation outside of his native Finland, sounds as lovely as ever in this expertly paced and confidently played rendition. In terms of timings, it falls midway between the premier recording by Segerstam (Ondine) and its slightly leaner immediate successor (Vänskä on BIS), and the bottom line is that there's very little to choose between them. If this performance has any drawbacks, it lies in the somewhat thin sounding violins in the first and third movements, a problem exaggerated by the bright and vivid recorded sound. For this reason Segerstam's recording remains the performance of choice, but only by a hair.


Angels and Visitations presents the composer in a more aggressive mood, a fact that leads some listeners to prefer it to the symphony's melancholy mellowness. Gorgeous string tone is also less of an issue here, and the orchestra's exciting brass and percussion sections make their presence felt to impressive effect. In fact, this coupling offers an excellent overview of Rautavaara's mature style, and even if you own one or all of the previous recordings of this music, you may well want to hear this disc as well. The important point is this: Rautavaara's music rewards the attention, and the fact that large works such as the Symphony enjoy multiple recordings speaks eloquently of their quality and of his importance in today's contemporary music scene. [2/15/2003]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Six CD Box set available only in North America of Jeremy Summerly's comprehensive conduting career. The work sets detailed are: 1. Adrian Willaert: Missa Christus resurgens / Magnificat / Ave Maria 2. Orlando di Lasso: Masses for Five Voices / Infelix ego 3. Thomas Tallis: Mass for Four Voices / Motets 4. Carlo Gesualdo: Sacred Music for Five Voices (Complete) 5. Hildegard Von Bingen: Heavenly Revelations 6. Artist Profile Series - SUMMERLY, Jeremy

Includes work(s) by Sir Malcolm Arnold. Ensemble: East Winds.

Silvius Leopold Weiss loved the lute. An exact contemporary of J.S. Bach, he worked in the Dresden court composing hundreds of lute pieces. This volume by American Robert Barto is the eighth in his Naxos series.

For a variety of reasons - including an interdict on their distribution by his patron and the fact that many survive only in tablature, not to mention their extreme difficulty - it’s a wonder that we’re able to hear them at all. The provenance, near destruction and geographical scattering - collections exist in London and Dresden - make teeth-chattering reading. Indeed a sonata on the already-published Volume 1 (Naxos 8.553773) was misidentified as Number 36: it should be Number 11. This is all the more unnerving when one remembers in what high esteem Weiss was held both in Germany as lutenist while still alive, and subsequently by musicologists aware of his gifts and tantalised by the wished-for prospect of his having written music other than for the lute.

Barto presents three sonatas on this CD: Numbers 36, 19 and 34. It can be said from the start that the playing is sharp and expressive and thus that the CD can be immediately recommended. It will be interesting to see how a ‘rival’ series by Yasunori Imamura on Claves - so far only Volume 1 has been released on 50-2613 - compares. Barto’s approach more earthy than Imamura’s with slightly more poise and a ‘stringier’ sound; perhaps even more downright accomplished. Each has its merits and each more than passes muster. Reviews of previous volumes in the Naxos/Barto series on MusicWeb have been enthusiastic. Volume 8 is no exception.

Sonata - we should probably call it a Suite - 36 is highly typical of Weiss’s later approach: a three-part texture in cantabile style. It’s a lovely, gentle, work with intricacies and simplicities in equal measure. At times redolent of Bach - listen to the development of the end of the allegro, tr. 6, for example - the six movements follow one another like a happy, dancing couple.

Number 19 is harmonically conservative and shies away from anything at all angular or extrovert, though the music is full of impact and makes special use of folk dances. After listening to the Sonata, one seems to have experienced as much as heard the tunes, the overt and hidden rhythms and the contrasts between movements. Barto is highly skilled at leading us through that experience.

Number 34 is one of Weiss’s most popular sonatas and evidently was used for teaching. But it’s no simplified exercise. With superb part-writing and luminous, improvisatory singing sequences, it contains arguably the most lovely music on this CD.

If you’ve been collecting Barto’s Naxos Weiss series until now, you’ll need no encouragement to buy this latest volume. If you haven’t come across it yet, this is as good a place to start as any. If it’s the sound of the lute you’re after, then Weiss’s expertise drawing out every nuance will thrill and reward.

-- Mark Sealey, MusicWeb International

Includes work(s) by Arnold Bax. Soloist: Laurence Jackson.

Daphnis et Chloe, generally regarded as Ravel's masterpiece, is one of the numerous important scores that owe their existence to the famous ballet impresario Sergey Diaghilev, who commissioned new works for his Paris-based troupe.