John Duarte always composed for the most purist reason there is--the sheer love of it. Beginning in his teens as an amateur jazz guitarist, he soon began writing more classically inspired works primarily based on improvisation. Just before his 50th birthday, Duarte's "increasingly rewarding hobby" (as he puts it in the notes) made him decide to retire professionally as a scientist and devote himself to composing. Since then, Duarte has established quite a reputation in guitar circles, recieving commissions from such luminaries as Andrés Segovia and John Williams. Now an octogenarian, Duarte seems never to have lost sight of his original motive: making the appeal of his music simple. He writes completely unpretentious, accessible tunes arising from his own pleasure and offered for the pleasure of others.

While most of the selections here were composed with other guitarists in mind, Antigoni Goni's performances are thoroughly enjoyable and technically faultless. The opening Pastorale movement of the first selection, Suite Piemontese, features a lively dance riddled with counterpoint in the tradition of Tarrega (La Cartagenera instantly comes to mind). Goni's expert rendering of Duarte's triptych suite Birds is equally stunning with its sudden chromatic shifts and near-gymnastic fingering requirements. Less virtuosic though equally inspired is Duarte's Musikones, a five-movement suite featuring three Terpsichores that clearly give a melodic nod to Erik Satie's first three Gnossiennes. Here Duarte's improvisational brilliance transforms Satie's meditations into bizarre sinister dances.

As usual, Naxos' sound is excellent, with Goni's guitar amply detailed in a dry acoustic setting. Duarte's rather personable notes read like reflections, briefly outlining his life, the selections, and his overall raison d'être. Naxos' ongoing Guitar Collection series has continued to offer many outstanding recitals of works by unjustly neglected composers. Adam Holzman's recent program of Antonio Lauro's Venezuelan Waltzes, as well as Richard Cobo's first volume in what eventually will be a complete cycle of Leo Brouwer's guitar works are cases in point and should not be missed. Nor should this outstanding, very pleasurable disc.
--John Greene, ClassicsToday.com

Weiss, S.L.: Lute Sonatas, Vol. 5 - Nos. 38, 43 / Tombeau

The sonatas recorded here encompass almost the entirety of Hans Werner Henze’s creative life. Composed in difficult conditions just after WWII, the Violin Sonata covers the broadest range of human emotions, and is in some ways a study for the extraordinary First Violin Concerto. Steeped in Italian mythology, the Solo Violin Sonata is ‘a real piece of theatre,’ as is the emotionally shattering Viola Sonata, written straight after the completion of the ballet Orpheus. The Violin Sonatina is drawn from Henze’s children’s opera Pollicino, and the two remaining miniatures are memorials for lost colleagues. Internationally acclaimed violin virtuoso Peter Sheppard Skaerved’s close connection with Hans Werner Henze is well recognized, and this release follows on from his recordings of Henze’s First and Third Violin Concertos “having some seriously emotional meat on the bones of this traditional form” (MusicWeb International), and the Second Violin Concerto summed up as “a superb [album]… highly recommended” by Gramophone. This is the first recording to bring together Henze’s solo sonatas for violin and viola, as well as the early Violin Sonata and later Violin Sonatina. Peter Sheppard Skaerved recorded the composers revised 1992 version of the Solo Violin Sonata on the Metier label in 2000, but returns to the 1977 original for this recording, completing a deal with the composer to “see who is right!”

Dmitry Kabalevsky found his mature style and achieved international success with his first opera Colas Breugnon, the overture of which was soon picked up as an orchestral showpiece in the West. The Second Symphony was likewise championed by conductors such as Arturo Toscanini, its bittersweet sense of drama and lyricism comparable with Prokofiev. Dedicated to the 15th anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution, the First Symphony illustrates progress from oppression to liberation, while the later Pathetique Overture is a rousing and highly effective reminder of Kabalevsky’s skill in orchestration. Founded in 1925, the Malmo Symphony Orchestra is one of the leading major orchestras in Sweden. Performing the full breadth of the symphonic repertoire, the MSO collaborates with prominent international conductors and soloists, including its current chief conductor Marc Soustrot. Since 2015 the MSO has resided in Malmo Live Concert Hall, a state of the art facility known for its world class acoustics.

REVIEWS:

With a dearth of Kabalevsky orchestral recordings in the catalog, this release is particularly welcome. The Malmo Symphony, conducted by Darrell Ang, are in fine form, and the engineers provide a very wide dynamic. Unreservedly recommended.

– David's Review Corner (David Denton)

More Russian themes and strong motor rhythms make their appearance in the Second Symphony, but this time the development is much more complex if not any more adventurous harmonically. Here, Ang’s conducting is pretty much spot-on, bringing out several salient details in the orchestration and providing a good driving rhythm.

– Arts Music Lounge (Lynn René Bayley)

Classical Music

J.S. Bach’s Italian Concerto and monumental Chaconne (heard here in the famous Busoni transcription) form the cornerstones of this disc of Baroque favorites performed on two guitars by the Amadeus Guitar Duo. One of Vivaldi’s most famous concertos, the D major RV 93 originally written for lute is transcribed to excellent effect for guitar duo. Franck’s Prélude, Fugue et Variation, a work inspired by the organ transcriptions of J.S. Bach, illustrates further how adept the Amadeus Guitar Duo is at reinventing these popular pieces for its own medium.

Argentinian guitarist and composer Jorge Morel’s long and distinguished career has made him a legendary figure amongst guitarists, renowned as “a consummate and virtuoso artist” (Guitar Magazine) whose music is favored for its blend of colorful Latin American vibrancy and North American sophistication. From gently lyrical pieces such as the Milonga del Viento to the life-force of the dance in works such as the Giga Criolla, to the more classical Sonatina, deeply descriptive Pampero and much more besides, this program is a true reflection of the amazing variety of Morel’s creative output.

Includes work(s) by Roderick Elms. Ensembles: Joyful Company of Singers, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Conductor: Stephen Bell (Conductor). Soloists: Mark Wilde, Stuart Nicholson.

No, it’s not the title of new horror flick. Swanwhite and The Lizard remain two of Sibelius least known incidental scores, here played in their complete original versions. As is often the case with these works, the suite that Sibelius made from his Swanwhite music is far more satisfying then the original score. The augmented orchestration for the suite, especially the important part for harp, adds tremendously to the music’s appeal, especially in a piece where that instrument gets mentioned all over the place but had to be left out of the theatrical version for reasons of economy (the original used only thirteen instruments, but the strings are intelligently padded even here). Still, there are plenty of extended bits as initially conceived and the music itself is really, really lovely.

Sibelius never made a suite out of The Lizard, and for good reason. It would have been nearly impossible. The score consists of two movements: a three-minute Adagio followed by a twenty-two minute Grave, both scored for strings. There’s very little actual music here: it’s all atmosphere and repetition of brief melodic patterns. It is, in short, background music, probably perfect for its intended use, and pretty good at home too if you need something moody that never forces you to pay attention. And as always with Sibelius’ string writing, Segerstam’s performance is gorgeous. It’s not often recalled that Segerstam was himself a violinist of considerable ability in his youth, and he pays a great deal of attention to the orchestral string sections in all of his recordings, to excellent effect.

A Lonely Ski Trail and The Countess’ Portrait are both poetic recitations for narrator and strings. I truly loathe spoken text over music, but Riho Eklundh has a very pleasant, mellow voice, and I find Swedish fun to listen to because it sounds like it ought to be in English but, obviously, it isn’t and you’re left wondering why what you are hearing makes no sense. For example, the opening line of A Lonely Ski Trail, “Ett ensamt skidspar” (with a little circle thing over the “a” in “skidspar”), sounds just like someone saying in English “And in some cheap sport.” It’s fun. So is this beautifully played and recorded ongoing series more generally.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Leif Segerstam directs all this material with unhurried authority, abundant perception and heaps of character. Likewise, his willing Turku colleagues are with him every step of the way. Admirable production values and useful notes, too. A job well done.

- Gramophone Magazine

One of the foremost Spanish performers and composers of the last few decades, Pedro Iturralde is a significant innovator in the fusion of jazz and flamenco styles. This album contains the composer’s complete works for saxophone and piano. These versions were made specifically for this recording, and this is their premiere. This release features saxophonists Juan M. Jimenez and Claude Delangle, and pianist Esteban Ocana.

MAYR Gioas • Franz Hauk, cond; Andrea Lauren Brown (sop); Robert Sellier (ten); Cornel Frey (ten); Andreas Burkhart (bs); Bavarian St Op Ch; Simon Mayr Ch & Ens • NAXOS 8.572710-11 (2 CDs: 111:22)


Only two issues ago (36:2), I had my first taste of music by Simon Mayr, on a Naxos CD featuring three of the composer’s concertos led, as here, by Franz Hauk, who seems to be somewhat of a Mayr specialist. In that review, I was forced to admit that I was not previously familiar with Mayr, most likely because his main area of endeavor was opera, a field in which I claim no particular expertise. The review concluded by wondering if, as mainly a composer of opera, Mayr was best represented by a disc of his concertos, and with a promise to get back to the reader with an answer once I gained more familiarity with his work.


The wait wasn’t a long one. Here we have Mayr’s Gioas (Joash, King of Judea), designated a “parody oratorio,” so-called because it draws upon Mayr’s opera, I misteri eleusini for its material. I gather that the work bears certain similarities to the composer’s David in the Cave of Engedi , reviewed by Patrick Rucker in 32:4, and Samuele , both previously recorded for Naxos by Hauk. A parody oratorio, as I understand it, involves the practice of adapting popular operatic works to religious texts so they could be performed during Holy Week while his Holiness looked the other way.


Gioas dates from 1823 and is set to a libretto by an unknown author (or one who preferred to remain anonymous) that tells a story of internecine blood-letting over rights to the throne, treachery, and retribution, all of which through self-sacrifice and appeasement of various gods, goddesses, and priests—that’s the religious aspect—culminates in a happy ending. The work is appropriately referred to in the program note as “pseudo-sacred,” or, to call it what it is, a barely disguised excuse to present an unstaged opera in the guise of an oratorio. Mayr was not alone in fashioning such Church-sanctioned entertainments. The tradition persisted, mainly in Italy, through much of the 19th century, with Emilio Cianchi’s Giudetta , composed in 1854, being performed as late as 1912. Knowing this, it’s a bit difficult to follow the intrigues of the plot and to listen to the impassioned arias, the pattering recitatives, and the solemn and celebratory choruses without a smile and a smirk. No matter how much holy water you sprinkle on it, the opera that’s inside this oratorio won’t be exorcised. Considering that Gioas was written in the same year as Rossini’s Semiramide , Mayr’s work sounds rather dated for its time. But having been born in 1763, Mayr was almost 30 years Rossini’s senior. So, perhaps it’s not surprising that Mayr’s style should more closely resemble Mozart’s than it does Rossini’s.


The music is delightful, often touching, and artfully crafted for the voice. It’s no wonder that Mayr was so celebrated for his operas. The four soloists are all very convincing in their roles and well matched vocally. Add to that enlivened playing from Hauk’s instrumental forces, and you have a winning performance. Unfortunately, Naxos has not provided a text or translation, but the album note gives a pretty good synopsis of the mishmash that calls itself a plot. If you can pretend while listening to Mayr’s Gioas that it’s not just an opera masquerading as a sacred oratorio, you will find much in the work and in this recording of it to enjoy.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

This is "as good a performance and interpretation - and technical recording - of Also sprach Zarathustra as one would expect to find" (Gramophone). Inspired and inspiring, Richard Strauss's Also sprach Zarathustra is one of a series of tone poems which pushed the form to it's limits. The famous opening introduces a musical interpretation of Friedrich Nietzsche's philosophical treatise, taking Zarathustra on a complex search through human aspirations. Based on an incident in Strauss's own life, the suite from Intermezzo distills domestic strife and misunderstanding into four jocular vignettes.

Wilhelm Friedmann Bach was significant in developing the relatively new keyboard sonata form between the baroque and classical periods. Combining stylistic elements from his father's generation and his own, the ambitious Sonata in D major was admired as "the most significant before Beethoven". The scale of the substantial Sonata in F for two keyboard instruments, one of WF Bach's best-known compositions, is such that it is sometimes referred to as a Concerto. Julia Brown's recordings give WF Bach's keyboard works "a liberty and sense of fun and engagement that make the music come alive".

Jack Gallagher continues his association with the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by JoAnn Falletta with Symphony No. 2 ‘Ascendant,’ a robust, colorful work of dramatic contrasts and expansive architecture that seeks to express the aspirations and strivings of the human spirit. Quiet Reflections is a calm, serenely lyrical meditation which evokes a sense of longing for past tranquility. Gallagher’s previous Naxos release Orchestral Music (8.559652) with the LSO conducted by JoAnn Falletta was awarded five stars by BBC Music Magazine and hailed as “fresh and exuberant” and for “its explosions of sound and colour” by Gramophone.

2008 brings us the long-anticipated sequel to 1999's second volume in Naxos' John Ireland piano music cycle. Since he began this project in 1995, pianist John Lenehan has grown more responsive to Ireland's impressionistic yet skillfully contrapuntal idiom, noticeably expanding his palette of nuances, colors, and articulations. Note, for example, how he focuses on On A Birthday Morning's emphatic melodic lilt and treats the thick chordal accompaniment as smooth, supportive padding. The Debussy-like passages throughout The Almond Trees and Amberly Wild Brooks (the second of the Two Pieces) are firmly etched and defined yet never at the expense of the long line, and that also applies to Lenehan's thoughtful animation of Equinox's swirling textures. As for the Piano Sonata, I waver between Lenehan and Eric Parkin. I admire Lenehan's ardent sweep and more generous pedaling in the outer movement's climaxes, yet gravitate toward Parkin's more luminous lyricism and superior legato touch in the slow movement. But that's splitting hairs. Besides, you can't disparage Naxos' price tag and first-class engineering, along with Lenehan's committed artistry. In all, a lovely release, warmly recommended.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

To witness a performance of Delius’s A Mass of Life, arguably his supreme creative achievement, is to look into the heart of the composer and his Nietzsche-inspired world. Moreover, this ravishing music, written between 1898 and 1905, represents Delius at the height of his powers, when musical ideas seemed to pour out of him at a time when he had finally learned to assimilate, in an entirely individual, not to say maverick manner, a confluence of modernist styles embracing Grieg, Wagner, Strauss, Charpentier and Debussy.

There is no doubt from the vivid opening choruses of Parts 1 and 2 of this recording (and what openings!) that the message of the work is a life-affirming one. There is a dynamic momentum to the tempi which perfectly evokes Zarathustra’s ruling passion, the Will of Man, and there is a richness to the orchestral sound which adds to the sense of muscularity. The chorus negotiate Delius’s often awkward vocal intervals with great skill and the intonation is virtually flawless. Just occasionally the sheer weight of the orchestral sound, which is quite forward on this recording (more so than Hickox), is apt to overwhelm the voices but this is a minor distraction.

Hill brings energy and élan to the third section, ‘In deine Auge’ (for me perhaps the most exhilarating section of Part 1), where the parallel with the end of Act 2 of Die Meistersinger is almost palpable and where the most unusual example of a Delius fugue (!) is given life, vigour and meaning.

Alan Opie, who has the lion’s share of the solo music in the work, is almost Wotan-like in his performances. From his first Nietzschean dance he is majestic and brings out of the score that vibrant, heady, Teutonic contemporaneity with which Delius had clearly become enthralled at this point in his career. Opie’s singing of what is effectively the role of Zarathustra has immense authority and his impressive range (up to high G) is ideal for Delius’s onerous vocal demands.

Andrew Kennedy, Catherine Wyn-Rogers and Janice Watson also offer fine lyrical interpretations of their solo parts and the choral accompaniments are allowed to intermingle subtly as an extension of the orchestra. The BSO are on fine form too, and special mention needs to be made of the haunting horn-playing in the introduction to Part 2 (‘On the Mountains’), a sound which sums up so much of Delius’s nature music.

This is a must for any Delius Liebhaber and, with the added bonus of the late Prelude and Idyll, a marvellous starting point for anyone new to Delius’s unique but compelling art.

-- Jeremy Dibble, Gramophone


DELIUS A Mass of Life. Prelude and Idyll1 • David Hill, Cond; 1Janice Watson (sop); Catherine Wyn-Rogers (mez); Andrew Kennedy (ten); 1Alan Opie (bar); Bach Ch; 1Bournemouth SO • NAXOS 8.572861-62 (2 CDs: 118:19 Text and Translation)

A Mass of Life is quintessential Delius, musically and existentially, composed over 1904–05 in the first great rush of his maturity. From the bounding affirmative choruses to the breathtakingly sustained nature contemplations, from the melancholy to the ecstatic, the Mass of Life traces and forecasts the gamut of Delian affect with a concision, fullness, and abundance he might rival but never achieve so comprehensively again. Unless I’ve missed something, this is but the fourth recording of the work since Beecham’s nonpareil 1952 account. Though its musical demands are daunting—if nowhere near as challenging as those of Mahler’s “Symphony of a Thousand,” with which it invites comparison—the primary bar to frequent performance is its text, drawn by Delius’s friend Ernst Cassirier largely from the Dance Songs of Nietzsche’s Also sprach Zarathustra. For those coming in late, one recalls the oft-quoted passage in Eric Fenby’s Delius as I Knew Him: “When, one wet day … he was looking for something to read in the library of a Norwegian friend … and had taken down a book, Thus Spake Zarathustra—a book for all and none—by one Friedrich Nietzsche, he was ripe for it. The book, he told me, never left his hands until he had devoured it from cover to cover. It was the very book he had been seeking all along, and finding that book he declared to be one of the most important events of his life. Nor did he rest content until he had read every work of Nietzsche that he could lay his hands on”—to which Fenby, a devout Catholic, adds—“and the poison entered his soul.” For listeners and performers today it may still be something of a jolt to find, in place of the supplicating Kyrie that the unfortunate term “Mass” leads one to expect, a glowingly charged hymn to the Will, “dispeller of need, my own necessity,” followed by Zarathustra’s brief praise of laughter (“My own laughter I pronounced holy”), succeeded by Zarathustra’s love duet with Life in a meadow filled with dancing girls, an archetypal encounter transpiring in a mythical dimension “beyond good and evil,” beyond place and time, crowned by the first, murmured, utterance of the Bell Song, the work’s central mystery. A Mass of Life may, of course, be enjoyed for its power and sensuous magic without reference to its text, but only to those nurtured on Nietzsche will it reveal its full import. Shrugging incomprehension of the text renders Benjamin Luxon’s Zarathustra, for Charles Groves (with the London Philharmonic Chorus and Orchestra), merely mellifluous, while Peter Coleman-Wright’s deadpan delivery for the late Richard Hickox—with the Waynflete Singers directed by today’s conductor, David Hill, and the Bournemouth Symphony Chorus and Orchestra—proves anesthetically workmanlike. When it appeared in 1997, I rated that reading, on Chandos, the best since Beecham’s (Fanfare 20:6). That honor goes now to the present offering. While Alan Opie does not efface memories of Bruce Boyce, for Beecham—whose delivery resonated from the nexus of Delius’s realization of Nietzsche—he teases the text gingerly, making a credible Zarathustra. In some numbers, Delius asks the soloists to share parts, with some of Zarathustra’s lines persuasively taken by Andrew Kennedy, and a portion of Life’s happily rendered by Janice Watson, though Catherine Wyn-Rogers’s beguiling, seductive Life recalls Monica Sinclair’s divinatory geste for Beecham. The choral work is beyond praise, though in Hill’s brisk approach the melting lyricism heard chez Beecham tautens and leaps.

Idyll is a late reworking of music from Margot la Rouge, composed in 1902 for the new opera competition offered by the music publisher Sanzogno. Though it failed to score and was not heard in Delius’s lifetime, it comes from the composer’s ripest years and contains gorgeous swaths of his richest utterance, which he salvaged in 1932, recomposing it to words by Whitman and making an extended love duet of it. Idyll has not lacked for vocally lustrous, persuasive performances submerging Whitman’s quaintness (“Behold me when I pass, hear my voice, approach, draw close, but speak not. Be not afraid of me”) in absolute conviction. Of major interest, the lovingly lingering 1981 account led by Eric Fenby—who took down the score from dictation by the blind, paralyzed Delius—features Felicity Lott and Thomas Allen (deleted Unicorn-Kanchana UKCD 2073). Meredith Davies’s still-available 1968 tilt at Idyll, with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, is made memorable by the divinatory partnership of Heather Harper and John Shirley-Quirk. In keeping with his go at the Mass of Life, Hill pushes the work a bit, spurring the impassioned moments to escalate from the pervasive tone of wistful elegy. Opie, as the anonymous man, is authoritatively resonant, in response to Janice Watson’s brightly edged soprano (touched by a bit of vibrato), with its gloriously amber lower register, buxomly filling the part of the nameless woman.

One caveat: In the headnote the title of the work is given per the album, but you will search the catalog of Delius’s works in vain for an orchestral Prelude. The work so designated is simply the first three minutes—an orchestral prelude, to be sure—of Idyll and has never, until now, been listed separately. The fake title generates a phantom work to bedevil buyers, scholars, and connoisseurs, and detracts from—rather than adding to—the program’s generosity.

Sound packs an immediate wallop making for occasional congestion. In the opening chorus, for instance, the leaping underlining of trombones and tubas becomes indistinct, overwhelmed by choral mass, and while one can pick out the glockenspiel, its function of festive accentuation is lost. In quieter passages, and in the capture of the vocalists, on the other hand, this upfront take is gratifyingly welcome. In German, Zarathustra’s pronouncements recall and parody the Lutheran Bible, in light of which the ostensibly stilted thee-ing and thou-ing of William Wallace’s singing translation—made for Beecham and used by him for all of his public performances (according to notes by Delius aficionado Lyndon Jenkins)—fall into place, if not quite into King James English. Whitman’s text is included.

In sum, a superb production and the grandest addition to the Delius discography in many years. Highest recommendation.

FANFARE: Adrian Corleonis

Recording information: Warsaw Philharmonic Hall, Poland.

At the time of his death in 2010, Almeida Prado was one of Brazil’s most internationally admired composers, one who created music of unique sonority and color, rooted in his native country. In Aurora (‘Dawn’) he employs his newly developed ‘transtonality’ to radiant effect, while the Concerto Fribourgeois features a collage technique. In his Piano Concerto No. 1 Almeida Prado explores a cogent structure in which the soloist opens up, rips apart or transforms the theme and variations, in a work that is both grandiose and luminous.

REVIEWS:

"The performances by Sonia Rubinsky sound like they are totally committed to the music. The range of her expressive control is remarkable. She has all of the requisite strength to deal with the many percussive moments in the music. The Minas Gerais Philharmonic Orchestra, under the expert direction of Fabio Mechetti, provides a well-considered and exemplary accompaniment. The recorded sound is very good."

--Fanfare

"The southern border of the vast Brazilian state of Minas Gerais lies roughly 100 miles north of (and is broadly parallel to) the road which connects the more renowned centres of São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. Its capital Belo Horizonte lies centrally and seems to be the home of the Minas Gerais Philharmonic, which on the evidence of this disc appears to be an impressive orchestral unit.

Aurora is both dramatic and monumental; the engineers have done a splendid job in taming its excesses and realising an ideal balance between the demanding piano part and the orchestra.

The Piano Concerto No. 1...embodies an arch-like structure, framed by brief panels labelled Apelo (Appeal) I and II in which contain the four-note thematic germ which drives the entire work. Apelo I inhabits murky depths whose severity soon yields to a sequence of rapid variations, performed with remarkable incisiveness and clarity by Rubinsky and the orchestra. The Piano Concerto No 1 makes a lasting impact – it’s difficult to imagine a more compelling or definitive account than Rubinsky’s.

The issue concludes with the Concerto Fribourgeois, commissioned in 1985 to celebrate the tricentenary of the birth of J.S. Bach[.] Rubinsky’s supreme commitment to this music provides yet more evidence of her devotion to Almeida Prado, whilst the recording rates highly in its depth and clarity.

I found all three of these very different works most enjoyable; they are each sufficiently colourful and invigorating to merit further reacquaintance.

--MusicWeb International (Richard Hanlon)

The renowned Italian composer and mountaineer Leone Sinigaglia wrote a fascinating series of pieces for string quartet that reflect his powers of characterization and elegance. Flowing melodies can be heard throughout, not least in the Concert-Etude, Op. 5, while the more substantial Variations on a Theme of Brahms, Op. 22 display his technical skill and expressive variety, whether reflective, somber or exuberant. His String Quartet in D major, Op. 27 exemplifies his dual inheritance: a commanding central European facility, combined with a natural Italian lyricism.

Havergal Brian may be a “cult composer”, but he’s surely one of the better ones. His music, even from its early days, was always strange, imaginative, and distinctive, and this disc, containing some very early and very late works, makes the point tellingly. Symphonies Nos. 22-24 form a trilogy. They were all composed between 11:30am and 9pm on May 26th, 1965, when the composer was 137 years old. Okay, just kidding, but 1965 is correct, and Brian was an impressive 89 at the time, which is astonishing enough. Symphony No. 22, “Symphonia brevis”, contains just two movements and lasts nine minutes. March rhythms predominate, alongside the gnarly, virtually atonal counterpoint that characterizes much of Brian’s late work. It sounds unappealing, but the music is so big in gesture and broad in its contrasts that it really does capture and hold your attention. Symphony No. 23, again in two movements but this time lasting all of 14 minutes, is more colorful and also a touch less angular, with some very beautiful moments of lyric calm. No. 24 consists of single, 16-minute movement, in which much of the storm and stress of the previously two works is resolved in lighter, brighter textures and more obviously diatonic thematic material. All three symphonies share an emphasis on march rhythms, and those characteristic brass and percussion effects (giant crescendos, deep tuba lines, three snare drums, unisons for xylophone and glockenspiel, cymbal crashes that hang over the bar lines) typical of Brian, and no one else. The advantage to having them all together, though, lies in the fact that you really can hear that Brian’s language has a wide range of expression, here displayed over a comparatively small space.

The English Suite No. 1 dates from 1905-6; that’s right, sixty years earlier than the three symphonies. Rich in invention, and much more obviously melodic, its six movements start with a march, and continue with a waltz, and character piece called “Under the Beech Tree”, an Interlude, Hymn, and finally a concluding Carnival, which pokes good-natured fun at God Save the King/Queen and other popular tunes. The Interlude is rather amazing, an experiment piece whose outer sections consist of pure texture (sound clip). It reveals Brian’s individuality even at this relatively early stage in his career—although he was already pushing 30 when the Suite was composed.

The performances here are very good. The New Russian State Symphony Orchestra sounds remarkably confident in Brian’s idiosyncratic sound world. The brass play very well, and the ensemble projects what have to be some very ungrateful string parts with astonishing conviction. Much of the credit must belong to conductor Alexander Walker, who keeps the music moving smartly along, and relishes the opportunities it offers for lyrical expression as well as instrumental color. Certainly this is one of the best issues in Naxos’ ongoing Brian cycle, especially as the sonics are also very tactile and vivid. Fans of the composer will rejoice.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Kemel Belevi’s music is steeped in the colors and atmosphere of the eastern Mediterranean, and his aim is ‘to create beautiful music’ based on melodies and rhythms that have been absorbed from the folk music of Greece, Turkey and the Middle East. Belevi’s own arrangements of works such as the evocative Suite Chypre and the richly varied Cyprian Rhapsodies have significantly extended the repertoire for two guitars. The Duo Tandem are drawn towards this composer’s skillful modernity and his celebration of traditional heritage reimagined within the sound world of the classical guitar.

Opera-comique emerged in the 19th century as an intermediary between grand opera and burlesque operetta. This album charts it's progression as a distinct genre, tracing the origins from Boieldieu and Mehul early in the century via the classic vitality of masters such as Herold and Maillart into the operetta style of Offenbach and Lecocq. With innovative features, colorful orchestration, drama, wit and atmospheric writing, the operas proved very popular and these overtures encapsulate their immense vivacity and charm.

Hailed by The New York Times as "an important new artistic voice" and by Gramophone as "a post-millennial Schubert," Mohammed Fairouz is one of the most significant composers of vocal music of our time. HIs oratorio Zabur (Arabic for "psalms") is a kind of war requiem documenting a conflict's effects on human beings, most notably children. Though cast in a contemporary setting, in a city under siege, Fairouz evokes a timeless world, acknowledging tragedy while asserting an eternal, luminous hope that transcends the disastrous present.

-----

REVIEWS:

The words are very telling in their directness. The music matches that and confirms Fairouz’s ability to create works of considerable power, leaving the listener deeply impressed. There is an epic scale about the work and the music is appropriately grand. The overarching message that hope springs eternal and can and must gain the upper hand for the sake of Man’s survival resonates throughout. It is what the listener is left with as the work comes to a close. Zabur is a profoundly affecting oratorio for the modern era; it demands to be heard.

– MusicWeb International

Most of the music Fairouz has poured into Zabur is lyrical and warm, with occasional blocks of dissonance—as in the opening choral outburst—to underline the tragic circumstances. The New York-based composer brings soaring emotional involvement to the solo and choral lines, suggesting he would be a natural in the operatic sphere. The orchestral writing is colourful, assured and vivid.

– Gramophone

In ‘This Land Sings,’ Grammy Award-winning composer Michael Daugherty has created an original musical tribute to the singer-songwriter and political activist Woody Guthrie (1912-1967). Traveling the backroads of America from coast to coast with a guitar and harmonica, Woody Guthrie performed folk songs of love, wandering and social justice during the Great Depression and the Second World War. Daugherty has composed his own original songs and instrumental interludes that give haunting expression, ironic wit and contemporary relevance to political, social and environmental themes from Guthrie’s era. Under the baton of Grammy Award-winning conductor David Alan Miller, the Albany Symphony’s new music ensemble Dogs of Desire, joined by soprano Annika Socolofsky and baritone John Daugherty, give a poignant and rousing performance.

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REVIEWS:

For the most part, Daugherty doesn’t set Guthrie’s tunes at all, although This Land Is Your Land turns up in a couple of numbers. Instead, he writes words of his own and draws on texts from elsewhere in the progressive strain of thought, dating back to Mark Twain, that animated Guthrie’s production. It all adds up to something quite unlike anything anybody else has done before. Listeners are going to have their own reactions, but this is original stuff, ideally and flexibly performed.

– AllMusic Guide (James Manheim)

Michael Daugherty traveled around the dust bowl of the United States before commencing the work, savoring the backdrop to Guthrie’s life as a writer and performer. It has resulted in an overture and sixteen vocal and instrumental tracks, the words for the songs written mostly by Daugherty. They are funny; they question life and our existence; suffering and love, all expressed in a mix of classical, folk, and jazzy rhythms. It is certainly a different experience that takes the composer down a new road, particularly so in the early part of the score. The excellent punchy sound is ideal for the work. Do listen to it.

– David''s Review Corner (David Denton)

A gifted musician, writer and watercolourist, Hugo Alfven is regarded in his native Sweden as the most significant composer after Berwald. The Fifth Symphony occupied Alfven throughout the 1940s and 1950s, and draws on themes from his ambitious 1923 ballet.

The three sonatas on this recording were written at the behest of violinist Cho-Liang Lin, who worked closely with each composer at their premiere performance. Paul Schoenfeld's Violin Sonata references literary influences and the composer's past as well as his Jewish heritage in the work's final Freilach or 'joyous dance.' Steven Stucky acknowledged Debussy as the source of inspiration in his work, while the alchemy of John Harbison's style creates music that is simultaneously abstract and narrative. Wryly introduced as "crazy modern music," Bernstein's brief Canon for Aaron was composed for Copland's 70th birthday celebrations.

The Violin Concerto is at one and the same time George Rochberg' most widely performed and least known work, since it was heavily cut in the "Stern version" played and recorded in the 1970s.

Penderecki deserves a great deal of credit for turning his back on the avant-garde of the 1960s and '70s, recognizing much of it for the music dead-end that it has turned out to be. His "return to Romanticism" was prophetic, but at the same time we must remember that there really are only two kinds of music: good and bad, and the fact that some music might be more conventionally listenable doesn't make it inherently better. On the whole, Penderecki always has been a very talented composer, deeply concerned with serious expressive issues, but this hasn't prevented some of his neo-Romantic works from sounding relentlessly heavy, grey, and dull, nor does his change of style diminish the sonic thrill of his earlier, more radical pieces. He did excellent work in all periods, as you can plainly hear on this marvelous new release.

The Eighth Symphony, "Songs of Evanescence", actually is a cycle of 12 German poems by the likes of Rilke, Goethe, Eichendorf, and Hesse. Far from being uniformly grim, the texts (available on Naxos' website) speak of the cycle of life, death, and renewal in a manner not too dissimilar from Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde (save that the entire work lasts scarcely longer than Mahler's last song, "The Farewell"). The music is beautiful: lyrically melodic, sumptuously scored, and highly varied, with harmony that ranges from the sweetly diatonic to ferociously dissonant, everywhere responsive to the text. This piece, which requires solo soprano, mezzo, baritone, and full chorus, must rank among Penderecki's finest recent creations, and I easily could see it becoming a repertory item.

Dies Irae, dating from 1967, is a work of Penderecki's radical phase. As the title suggests, it's a dark, menacing, but sonically enthralling piece that forces both vocal and orchestral forces to make some of the most hair-raising sounds in Western music. It's interesting how with the passage of time much of the music's perceived difficulty has evaporated, leaving behind a raw-nerved, expressionistic intensity that's quite special and all the more moving for being very much of its time and place (aren't all classics?). The brief Psalms of David, from the late 1950s, helped to establish Penderecki's credentials as a major composer. The percussive last movement might strike today's listeners as almost Latin-sounding, though of course the harmonic language is more acerbic, but the music exudes the freshness of a powerful new voice on its first flights of fancy.

Antoni Wit's Naxos recordings, particularly those of contemporary music, have been almost uniformly splendid, and this one is no exception. He summons terrific playing from the orchestra, has a brilliant and enthusiastic choir at his disposal, and has assembled a very impressive team of soloists, especially soprano Michaela Kaune, baritone Wojtek Drabowicz, and tenor Richard Minkiewicz. Singing this stuff isn't easy, but they make it seem so. The sonics capture the music's massive climaxes as well as its more ethereal moments in natural balance, and with plenty of head room. In short, this disc makes an ideal introduction to Penderecki's art, and to his vocal music in particular. It covers his entire creative life thus far, and offers compelling evidence of just how fine a composer he was, and remains.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Shostakovich wrote his Symphony No. 13, Op. 113 in 1962. The climax of his ‘Russian period’ and, in its scoring for bass soloist, male chorus and orchestra, among the most Mussorgskian of his works, it attracted controversy through its settings of poems by Yevgeny Yevtushenko (the ‘Russian Bob Dylan’ of his day)—not least the first movement, where the poet underlines the plight of Jews in Soviet society. The other movements are no less pertinent in their observations on the relationship between society and the individual. This is the final release in Vasily Petrenko’s internationally acclaimed symphonic cycle.

This recording of recent compositions by Bright Sheng, "[a] leader in exploring and bridging musical traditions", demonstrates once again his distinctive lyrical and dramatic fusion of Western and Asian styles and sonorities. Earlier Naxos releases include works such as the Red Silk Dance (8.559610) and Spring Dreams concerto (8.570601).