Rossini: Maometto Secondo

PALESTRINA: Missa de Beata Virgine

Gluck: Orfeo ed Euridice (first Vienna version, 1762)

Vivaldi: Cello Concerti, Vol. 3

MENDELSSOHN: 6 Preludes and Fugues, Op. 35 / 3 Caprices, Op.

Over four decades the American composer Louis Karchin has produced a much-admired portfolio of compositions. His one-act opera Romulus won numerous accolades. Jane Eyre is his largest project to date, in which he and librettist Diane Osen fashion Charlotte Bronte's beloved novel into a vivid and moving opera cast as a fluid and continuous entity. Karchin's wide-ranging harmonic language and his flair for contrast ensure that the novel's drama, it's pastoral elements, and most importantly it's characterization are fully developed via arias, monologues, ariosi and a quartet, to create a boldly engaging new work.

6 Violin Sonatas, Op. 10b

Vivaldi: Cello Concerti, Vol. 2

Vincenzo Bellini was among the most important Italian opera composers of the early 19th century, and the quintessential representative of its bel canto tradition. Despite his enduring renown, his official operatic debut Bianca e Gernando was known only in its revised version of Bianca e Fernando until this rediscovery and revival at Bad Wildbad in July 2016. Set in the ducal palace of Agrigento and with its tale of secretive plots and triumph over tyranny, this original version of the opera presents both unknown music and significant differences from the revised version, giving its dramatic shape a distinctive new character.

“Petrenko and the RLPO have achieved a triumph. The orchestral playing is ripe, detailed, lithe, concentrated and intense.” – The Telegraph on Symphony No. 10

“The final instalment of Petrenko’s remarkable Liverpool Shostakovich cycle is a world-class achievement.” – The Sunday Times on Symphony No. 13

“This is a model of clarity… yet another Petrenko performance to join the greats.” – BBC Music Magazine on Symphony No. 8

Featuring the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic orchestra and Choir conducted by Vasily Petrenko
Additional featured choirs:
The Huddersfield Choral Society; Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Choir, male section.
Vocal soloists: Gal James, soprano; Alexander Vinogradov, bass.

Comprising four separate operas, Wagner' visionary Der Ring des Nibelungen took 25 years to complete. Centered around a ring of power and the attempts of various people to acquire it, the Ring cycle explores the relationship bet.

Comprising four separate operas, Wagner's visionary Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung) took 25 years to complete. Centred around a ring of power and the attempts of various people to acquire it, the Ring cycle explores the relationship between love and earthly power and the themes of yearning and loss, all within a setting of medieval legend. The prologue Das Rheingold deals with the theft and subsequent surrender of the ring forged from the Rhinegold by the Nibelung dwarf Alberich.

Enescu: Oedipe

Includes work(s) by various composers.

What if four celebrated nineteenth-century composers—Mendelssohn, Schumann, Bruckner and Brahms—had written original works for brass septet? This disc explores that fascinating counterfactual twist, re-imagining choral and organ works by those composers. The arrangements call on the full dynamic and tonal range of the instruments—often extended with a multitude of mutes—to imitate the expressivity of the choir, the power of the organ, and the versatile sonorities of its different registrations and manuals. In dazzling and varied combinations the arrangers and performers together persuade us that this could indeed be original brass chamber music.

Includes ricercare(s) for lute by Francesco Spinacino, Franciscus Bossinensis. Soloist: Christopher Wilson.
Includes work(s) by Vincenzo Capirola, Anonymous. Soloist: Christopher Wilson.

The essence of Busoni's music lies in a synthesis of his Italian and German ancestry: emotion and intellect, imagination and discipline, often allied with a re-creative approach to the musical past.

This disc, superbly recorded in the Henry Wood Hall in Glasgow, makes a most welcome addition to Naxos’s growing collection of English music. In every way it provides formidable rivalry for the two excellent full-price Holst discs which substantially overlap with this in repertory – from Richard Hickox on Chandos and from Sir Adrian Boult on Lyrita in vintage performances from around 1970.

Like Hickox, Lloyd-Jones has as his two weightiest items the Hardy-inspired Egdon Heath, arguably Holst’s finest work, as well as the prelude and fugue, Hammersmith, comparably dark and intense. But where Hickox has the latter in its usual orchestral form, Lloyd-Jones chooses the wind-band version, achieving a subtlety of shading in phrasing and dynamic amply to justify that striking choice. The Chandos recording is sumptuous, but the Naxos sound is at least as vividly atmospheric, while letting one hear more inner detail, particularly important in the fugue.

As to interpretation, Hickox is a degree warmer in phrasing and more passionate in his build-up of climaxes, where Lloyd-Jones, generally adopting more flowing speeds closer to those of Boult, is more objective, while bringing out to the full the tenderness and refinement of the writing. Particularly beautiful is the performance of A Somerset Rhapsody which opens the disc, with the cor anglais solo ravishingly played. Boult of course has unique authority in this music, and the Lyrita analogue recordings – among the finest of their period – still sound superb, with clean focus and separation.

Yet quite apart from the intrinsic quality of Lloyd-Jones’s performances with the Scottish orchestra, and the formidable advantage of price, his grouping of works is more generous than that on either rival disc. The six works are neatly balanced, three dating from before the climactic period of The Planets and The Hymn of Jesus, and three after. Particularly valuable – and not included on either rival disc – is the atmospheric Invocation for cello and orchestra of 1911, rather dismissed by Imogen Holst, but here given a yearningly intense, deeply thoughtful performance with Tim Hugh as soloist.

A highly recommendable offering, whether for the dedicated Holstian or the newcomer wanting to investigate this composer’s more characteristic work outside The Planets.

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [6/1998]

This disc recalls the heady days of Munch and Bernstein in this music. Stéphane Denève, music director of the RSNO since 2005, plays Roussel's music to the manner born (he was, of course, but you never know--remember Prêtre?). The first movement of the Third Symphony revels in its unbridled rhythmic thrust, while Denève wrings every drop of bittersweet poignancy from the slow movement, capping it off with the most intense and powerful climax you will ever hope to hear. The remainder of the symphony, ebullient and sparkling, with the finale emerging seamlessly from the quiet ending of the scherzo, caps a performance that's just about perfect.

Bacchus et Ariane--the two suites presented here constitute the entire ballet--has just as much fervor and brilliance. From the opening bars the orchestra plays like a pack of demons, and this makes the more melting and lyrical bits all the more moving. The opening of the Second Suite has that same feeling of deep nostalgia as does the slow movement of the symphony, and in the final Bacchanal Denève whips up an orchestral fury the likes of which we haven't heard in this piece since Munch. What makes the performance so special is that all of this excitement never compromises precision of execution, or that special sparkle and lightness of touch that we have come to regard as quintessentially French. This team looks set to become a major musical force, and a genuine star of the Naxos catalog. Keep it coming, please!

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

These performances are also included in a 4-disc set entitled "The Love Collection", Naxos 8-504004.

This recording, previously issued on Marco Polo in its film music series, now reappears at budget price on Naxos, and it's quite welcome. The Fall of Berlin, a typical World War II saga depicting Russian heroism and the last days of Hitler, inspired Shostakovich to some good battle music and more than a few characterful episodes depicting both sides of the ongoing struggle. There's no reason to believe that the composer did not sincerely desire the defeat of Germany, and so did not take this particular job seriously, all questions of Socialist Realism aside. In any event, the film offered the chance to write a lot of music, some 45 minutes' worth, much of it unusually extended and developed. The result is certainly listenable on its own apart from the film, even if for obvious reasons the score is more than a bit strident and relentless in depicting both struggle and triumph.

Shostakovich took pride in much of his work for films, even while regarding it as something apart from his career as a "serious" composer. It's easy to understand why: as André Previn once mentioned, the requirements of working on movies tend to minimize opportunities for "the elongated thought." That said, The Unforgettable Year 1919 offered Shostakovich the chance to write a full-blown romantic piano concerto movement similar to Addinsell's Warsaw Concerto, and he produced something eminently cinematic, if utterly atypical of his more familiar style. The track in question is somewhat confusingly called The Assault on the Red Hill, and you can have a lot of fun playing it for your friends and asking them to guess the composer. The performances are a bit rough and ready, not unusual given this source, but they're certainly in character and vividly recorded. Shostakovich fans will need no further urging from me.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Polish by birth, Alexandre Tansman settled in France, a major influence on his composition. He was a close associate of Stravinsky, particularly during his war-time exile in America. Tansman favored the clarinet, in particular, among wind instruments.

Top Brahms!

Here it is: the final release in the set of Brahms symphonies from Marin Alsop with the London Philharmonic. Previous reviews have praised just about every aspect of this new Naxos cycle, and while I admit to arriving somewhat late on the scene I have to admit that all expectations are realised.

So that you know where I’m coming from, my formative introduction to the symphonies of Brahms came with the 1983 live cycle on DG with Leonard Bernstein and the Vienna Philharmonic. The influence of those initial impressions of intensity and edgy freedom of expression are of course hard to shake, but there is always more than one way to skin a great piece of music, and later on I was as likely to be found settling down with a good book and Herbert von Karajan’s 1989 recordings with the Berlin Philharmonic. Other versions have passed my way as well – Günter Wand’s 2001 RCA cycle with the North German Radio Symphony Orchestra for instance, and those lovely old Bruno Walter recordings with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra now on Sony, which still sound surprisingly good given their vintage.

If done properly, Brahms’s symphonic writing means that you will have read the same page a multitude of times in that ‘good book’ you have in your hand while listening. The content and meaning of the words will remain as obscure as at the first attempt as your ears and attention are absorbed and enthralled by the lush musical garden that gradually unfolds through your loudspeakers, or in my case headphones. With Alsop and the LPO you might as well give up on reading at all, and give yourself over to a feast of wonderful music-making.

Marin Alsop’s tempi are measured and sustained in what seems to me an ideal way in this symphony. The first movement seems at first urbane and restrained, but the ceiling is set high, and there is plenty of room for bite and drama in the music – never hurried or unstable, but with a gloss of perfect preparation which seems to allow the listener to plunge directly and deeply into Brahms’s inspired vision. The same is true of the second Andante moderato movement, in which the winds initially shine with lush resonance. Intonation is crucial here, and the LSO’s wind and brass are spot on – playing as one. The timing and anticipation is beautifully measured in advance of the ‘big tune’ at 8:55, which is turned out here without histrionics, but as a noble and almost infinite field of sound – a bounteous source for a composer like Elgar, whose own ‘Enigma’ variations spring immediately to mind.

A lightness of touch is required of the third movement’s Allegro giocoso, and Alsop blows away any cobwebs which may have gathered in a sweep of freshness. There’s a slightly anticipatory rhythm at 4:23 caused by an edit, but this will hopefully only be noticeable to fully trained and overly picky reviewers. The final movement brings back the measured, sustained feel of the first, but with that extra turbulence, and those quicksilver touches of detail in the orchestration pointed subtly and superbly by all concerned in this recording. I was wondering if that slow central section wasn’t just a little too slow and lingering, but the re-entry of the full orchestra at around 6:00 is made all the more magical for being delayed for that extra few ounces of ‘down-time’, and the final run builds in intensity to create a fully satisfying close.

The Hungarian Dances presented here are the ‘leftovers’ from Brahms’s own orchestrations of nos. 1, 3 and 10, covered in volume 2 of this series. The dances here have been newly orchestrated by Peter Breiner in an imaginative commission from Naxos especially for this recording. Breiner’s versions respect Brahms’s orchestral resonances for the most part, but inject quite a bit of extra jazzy impact and violinistic Hungarian idiom, emphasising some of those seriously fun syncopations with extra percussion and brass. There is a danger of creating a set of little P.D.Q. Bach monsters here, but with the essence of Brahms’s ideas held largely intact I admire the way Breiner has stretched these pieces just enough to make them into genuine orchestral showpieces, without turning the smiles they bring into disrespectful guffaws.

I think the way is clear – I simply must have the rest of this set.

-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International

"The five violin concertos here are in Tartini's characteristic three-movement form (fast-slow-fast); all but D.28 (which includes a pair of horns) have string accompaniments. Their appeal lies in their fresh simplicity, which the excellent soloist Ariadne Daskalakis and the Cologne Chamber Orchestra directed spiritedly by Helmut Müller-Brühl capture to perfection, as they do the expressive appeal of the slow movements, notably that of the G major, D.80, and the D major, D.28; but the B minor is graceful too, and its Larghetto is given the title Lascia ch'io dica addio ('Let me say goodbye'). The recording is first class and, for those who like modern-instrument performances, as do we, the disc is worth seeking out."

- Penguin Guide to Recorded Classical Music - 2008 Edition, page 1353

Though Peter Il'yich Tchaikovsky was a highly prolific and successful composer, he offered only six chamber works for publication. This brief catalogue included three complete string quartets and four single movements.

See previous volumes in this set.

Volume 1 Naxos 8570001

Volume 2 Naxos 8570002



MENDELSSOHN String Quartets, Vol. 3: No. 3 in D, Op, 44/1; in E?, op. “0.” Theme and Variations, op. 81/1. Scherzo, op. 81/2 • New Zealand Str Qrt • NAXOS 8.570003 (68:53)


In Fanfare 33:4, I was favorably impressed by the second installment in the New Zealand String Quartet’s Mendelssohn cycle for Naxos. This is the third and, I would guess, final volume in the series. The first volume was apparently not sent for review because it does not show up in the Archive. Because the numbering of Mendelssohn’s works is so out of sync with their chronology—the string quartets being no exception—some recapping of the prior review may be helpful in assessing this survey.


Quartet Number Date completed Vol. Naxos No. in chron. order


E?, op. “0” 1823 3 8.570003


2, op. 13 10/1827 2 8.570002


1, op. 12 9/1829 1 8.570001


4, op. 44/2 6/1837 1 8.570001


5, op. 44/3 2/1838 2 8.570002


3, op. 44/1 7/1838 3 8.570003


6, op. 80 9/1847 1 8.570001


In addition to the above, between 1827 and 1847, Mendelssohn wrote four completely independent, stand-alone movements for string quartet that were published posthumously in 1850 under the single opus number of 81. Playing these pieces together, however, as if they constituted a unified string quartet, is absurd, as noted in my prior review. No composer of this period, who had not taken complete leave of his senses, would have ended a work in the key of E?-Major that began a semitone higher in the key of E Major, and to top it off, written a scherzo in a key (A Minor) that is removed from the key of the concluding movement (E?-Major) by a diminished fifth (aka a tritone). I commended the New Zealand Quartet for at least having the good sense to split these movements up between volumes:


Theme and Variations in E, op. 81/1 3 8.570003


Scherzo in a, op. 81/2 3 8.570003


Capriccio in e, op. 81/3 2 8.570002


Fugue in E?, op. 81/4 2 8.570002


It remains to be seen whether the ensemble will follow up with a fourth volume containing the complete study fugues for string quartet the boy wonder wrote in 1821 at the age of 12. If so, it will be the most complete survey of Mendelssohn’s works for string quartet on disc that I know.


While there have been previous recordings of the early (1823) E?-Major Quartet, this is the first time I’ve seen an opus number of “0” assigned to it. Since it’s not the first work Mendelssohn ever wrote, it would have made more sense to assign the number “0” to the quartet (as in Bruckner’s Symphony No. 0) rather than to the opus number. But done is done. If I were building a library from scratch, I would be completely content with this Naxos survey of Mendelssohn’s string quartets.


Though some 13 years separate the D-Major Quartet that opens the disc from the composer’s famous Octet of 1825, the writing in this much later work recalls the earlier piece. From its initial catapulted launch of an upward arpeggio in the first violin, the first movement is a virtual nonstop volley that plays with the same figure, tossing it between voices and counterpointing it against itself in overlapping entrances. The Menuetto and the Andante espressivo movements sing of the connubial bliss Mendelssohn must have felt having just returned from his honeymoon, while the Presto con brio echoes the first movement of the “Italian” Symphony, completed five years earlier. This was a happy time in the composer’s life, and the D-Major Quartet—the first in a set of three quartets published collectively under the opus number 44 that Mendelssohn dedicated to the Crown Prince Gustav of Sweden—is veritably bursting at the seams with brilliant, scintillating passagework and a seemingly inexhaustible supply of lyrical melody.


That Mendelssohn’s own musical personality is already emerging in his early E?-Major Quartet, op. “0,” should come as no surprise. By 1823, the 14-year-old had already written his 12 string symphonies and had honed his skills at counterpoint and writing for strings. But neither should we imagine that at this young age he is not also relying on and imitating earlier models. The Adagio ma non troppo surely exhibits more than a passing familiarity with the Adagio affetuoso of Beethoven’s F-Major Quartet, op. 18/1, though the adolescent Mendelssohn can’t quite muster Beethoven’s sturm und drang outbursts. The Minuetto, on the other hand, is pure Haydn; its humorous hiccupping figure might easily be mistaken for a movement from one of Papa Joseph’s quartets.


According to note author Keith Anderson, the stand-alone Theme and Variations movement that ended up as op. 81/1 was actually written in 1847, the last year of Mendelssohn’s life, and was intended as a movement in a new quartet. As we know, of course, that didn’t happen; instead, what did happen is that it became the first movement in a posthumously patched together “quartet” composed of pieces written much earlier. Thus, the E-Minor Scherzo, op. 81/2, sounds very much like it could be an outtake from the Midsummer Night’s Dream Scherzo.


The New Zealand String Quartet plays with a great deal of panache. There’s buoyancy, sparkle, and wit in these performances, not to mention engagement on an emotional level without affectation. It goes without saying of course that technical matters of tempo, dynamics, intonation, bowing, breathing, and balance are totally tidy. Indicated repeats are observed, recorded sound is top-notch, and Naxos’s budget price makes this a steal. If you’ve already invested in one or more complete sets by recently reviewed ensembles, such as the Emerson, Gewandhaus, and Pacifica Quartets, you probably don’t need another one. But as I said above, if I were just starting to build a collection, or, even if I just wanted to fill in a gap or two in an existing one, the New Zealand Quartet’s Mendelssohn would be right near the top of my list. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

The New Zealand String Quartet' first Naxos recording of Mendelssohn' string quartets was praised as 'an auspicious start' by Gramophone and 'opulently recorded' by Classic FM magazine. It's warmly affectionate accounts continue with this second of t.

D. SCARLATTI Keyboard Sonatas: K 52; K 77; K 79; K 139; K 170; K 176; K 277; K 344; K 340; K 388; K 398; K 456 • Francesco Nicolosi (pn) • NAXOS 8.570368 (61:02)


Scarlatti fans are many, and growing in number. Russian pianist Vladimir Horowitz was in great part responsible for a reevaluation of the composer’s works, frequently playing Scarlatti sonatas in his recitals. His recordings of a few of these sonatas are revered by pianists and melomanes alike, and no wonder about it. He was supremely aware of the Italian master’s genius in portraying different emotions and in eschewing any of the dictates of style, writing music that sparkles with cleverness and emotion and remains almost unclassifiable in terms of style or school.


Since then, the early-music crowd took possession of these works, and Scarlatti’s œuvre has occupied its rightful place among the harpsichordists. It appeals to anyone who plays a keyboard instrument, as an almost didactic tool: each sonata presents a new exciting problem, a feature that serves to improve some necessary aspect of technical or musical abilities. It also inspires fanatical discussions: staunch defenders of period instruments have fits at hearing a single Scarlatti phrase on a piano, pianists often declare that “had Scarlatti known the modern piano, he would have abandoned the harpsichord” (a pretty lame argument, if you ask me).


Fashions come and go, but Scarlatti remains a hit with keyboard-players, a challenge to be faced, a citadel to be conquered. Options abound. On the harpsichord, my favorites are many, and run from the aggressively elegant Pierre Hantaï (for Mirare), to the variegated approach of Kenneth Weiss (for Satirino), with bows to brutally succinct Nicolau de Figueiredo (Clássicos), and to the reliability of Richard Lester (Nimbus).


There are the pianists who follow the example set by Horowitz, who had an extraordinarily powerful vision of this meridional music, at the same time full of passion and precision. There are those who play the sonatas with Mozartean delicateness (Soyen Lee, for example, for Naxos), subtle sobriety, as Fabio Grasso does (Euterp), and even exuberant intelligence, as my all-time favorite Mikhail Pletnev. From this small list, one can get an idea of the very contrasting stances that find defenders among Scarlatti fans. It is reasonable to state that there is a Scarlatti for absolutely every taste in the world.


The present CD, by Francesco Nicolosi, will thus find its share of admirers, and an equally large number of detractors, for the very same characteristic that the first group will love and the second one will hate. It presents a very pianistic approach, one that makes the pieces sound like Chopin nocturnes. Curiously, the sonatas that are readily identifiable as Baroque are the more “Bachian” ones (like K 52), perhaps because we are already so used to hearing “romantic” versions of Bach. There is a lot of pedaling and ample use of rubato, articulations are softened, and the twisted dissonances are underplayed, partly because the right hand gets more emphasis than the left. Nicolosi’s fluent technique itself somehow diminishes the impact of the more dramatic sonatas: he plays with the easy assurance of a marathon runner quickening his step to catch a bus on a Sunday afternoon. Nothing wrong about that, granted. This is still sensitive playing that takes advantage of Scarlatti’s many subtleties and highlights the stunning quality of the compositions. But the enormous scope of the composer’s imagination gets attenuated, and the resulting versions seem old-fashioned. In the end, this CD says more about Nicolosi and the piano than about Scarlatti and his music.


For those who know Scarlatti and know they like it on the piano, this disc is definitely recommended, as well as for fans of Romantic music who are seeking a first encounter with the music of the 18th century. For those who want a pianist’s sound, but a harpsichordist’s conception, or even a truly personal vision of Scarlatti, this CD will fail to hit the mark.


FANFARE: Laura Rónai

DUSSEK: Three Sinfonias

Successful string quartet performance is all about communication, in the purest sense of the word: constant giving and exchanging, a communion among the players based on an intimate relationship bound by deep understanding, of the music and of each other. It’s the essence of what is meant by ensemble. When you have that, you can play anything together and make it vital, and most of all, true to the composer’s intent.

As my colleague David Hurwitz said in an earlier review, Brahms’ quartets are “respected more than they are loved”, and can sound “overworked” and “texturally monotonous”. It’s true that you can play unlawfully fast and loose with these quartets and pretty much get away with it, given enough rhythmic finesse and blurring of textures, and these are among the many reasons that listeners, including me, usually aren’t that much in love with these dense, phenomenally busy, complicated pieces. But when you hear them played with the unusual clarity, scintillating detail, and dynamic, exacting, turn-on-a-dime expressive statements uttered by an ensemble of literally one interpretive mind and unassailable technique, you have to rethink the reasons for your avoidance reflex when faced with a Brahms quartet close encounter.

When the New Zealand Quartet made this recording its members had been working and playing together for 20 years, a rarity in the music world, and a situation that pays huge dividends in performance. There are few relationships anywhere in which the members spend more time together, pouring heart and soul into an intensely charged, creative collaboration, its success built both on individual artistic drive and vision, and contingent on compromising, blending, and capitalizing on the strengths of those impulses and passions. Any group that can manage this, whether a married couple or a string quartet, is something of a miracle, and, especially if you’ve seen this group in concert, you know how special it is.

And there is no holding back in these performances: the NZSQ literally attacks and wrestles Brahms’ scores to the ground–a positive, friendly intervention, for the good of all concerned. These performances should not disappoint any listener, whether you hate Brahms or love his music, because they take you out of the realm of preconception and just deliver aggressive, uninhibited, and yes, passionate expressions of these scores, respectful of the composer while always working to realize the fullness of the music that Brahms struggled so long and hard to create.

My only regret here is that with a recording you don’t truly experience what this group is doing. Unless you actually see them in concert, you don’t appreciate the incredible group dynamic that’s happening during a performance, you don’t totally get the ensemble interaction that produces this result. They stand when they perform–cellist Rolf Gjelsten sits on a special raised platform–and there’s a physicality to the communication among the players that’s only comparable to a dance, a ballet. And if you can make a ballet out of Brahms’ string quartets, well, you’ve got something that’s worth listening to.

– ClassicsToday (David Vernier)