MALIPIERO Symphonies: No. 1, “In quattro tempi, come le quattro stagioni;” No. 2, “Elegiaca.” Sinfonie del silenzio e della morte • Antonio de Almeida, cond; Moscow SO • NAXOS 8.570879 (77:40)


CDs containing the works of Gian Francesco Malipiero (1883–1973) occupy less than two inches of shelf space in my collection, so by no means can I claim more than passing familiarity with his music. My first encounter with this composer, however, was on a 1950s Nonesuch LP with the Stuyvesant String Quartet playing one of Malipiero’s string quartets. That recording, if anyone is interested, has been transferred to CD by Bridge.


Malipiero was one of the so-called “generazione dell’ottanta” (generation of the 1880s) composers that included Wolf-Ferrari (1876–1948), Respighi (1879–1936), Ildebrando Pizzetti (1880–1968), Riccardo Zandonai (1883–1944), Alfredo Casella (1883–1947), and Castelnuovo Tedesco (1895–1968). If permitted to engage in a bit of chronological stretching, I’d also include in this group Nino Rota (1911–1979) and Gian Carlo Menotti (1911–2007). In a 31:5 Rota review, I substituted for “generazione dell’ottanta” the “identity crisis generation.” Here were several Italian composers working independently of each other, but each in similar circumstances. Instrumental music in 19th-century Italy was all but dead, having been displaced by opera. And while all of the above-named composers made contributions to the operatic literature, one aspect of their shared dilemma was that Italian opera had by this time already achieved its apogee in Verdi and Puccini. At the same time, they also shared a desire to create a new legacy of Italian instrumental music, which led to their second dilemma. They retained strong roots in 19th-century Romantic traditions, yet their lives intersected those of other roughly contemporaneous 20th-century Italians—Dallapiccola, Nono, and Berio—who were committed to keeping abreast of the more modernistic and avant-garde trends elsewhere on the Continent. As a result, the “generazione dell’ottanta” came to be seen largely as a throwback to an earlier period.


Malipiero was enormously prolific, and much of his output is mostly of a serious nature, weighted towards Classical-form symphonies, concertos, and chamber works. His music never gained the traction of Respighi’s more easily digested style, but Malipiero’s smaller following of intellectual elites was significant and influential. Among his admirers was the aforementioned Dallapiccola, and Bruno Maderna was one of his students. It seems that Malipiero played a bit loose with musical terminology. No fewer than 17 of his works include in their titles the word “sinfonia,” and in the case of one of them on this disc, “sinfonie,” though not all of them necessarily fit the description of what is commonly thought of as a symphony. This also leads to some confusion, for the two numbered symphonies heard here are nowhere near being among the composer’s earliest efforts in the form. Three symphonies preceded the No. 1, and by quite a few years: the Sinfonia degli eroi (1905), the Sinfonia del mare (1906), and the Sinfonie del silenzio e della morte (1910) listed in the headnote. The Symphony No. 1, subtitled “In quattro tempi, come le quattro stagioni,” was not written until 1933, and its successor, the Symphony No. 2, subtitled “Elegiaca,” followed three years later in 1936.


The Sinfonie del silenzio e della morte (“Symphonies of Silence and Death”) is more like three interconnected tone poems than it is a three-movement symphony. Inspired by Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death , the first movement, “Danza tragica,” is a lot less macabre sounding than its description might suggest. The music has a distinctly Russian flavor to it, echoes of Mussorgsky’s Night on Bare Mountain being inescapable. But the specter of evil conjured by Malipiero is neither as vivid nor as visceral as that of Mussorgsky’s shrieking fiends. The second movement bears the heading that gives the work its name, while the third movement bears the heading, “Il molino della morte” (The Mill of Death). Whatever Malipiero’s morbid, ghoulish, and grisly intent may have been, his score too often belies it with interruptions by arching lyrical themes and infusions of lush orchestral writing. The work is simply too fetching to be anything other than a less-than-hair-raising ride on the lighter side of the dark side.


Malipiero’s Symphony No. 1 (“In four movements, like the four seasons”) was inspired by the Venetian poet Anton Maria Lamberti’s Le stagioni . The Symphony is programmatic only superficially and not representational in content. The music is abstract, and its formal structure laid out in four movements that proceed in a slow-fast-slow-fast order. The piece is fragrant with scents of the Orient, of the exotic, of early Debussy, and indeed of Respighi. In fact, if you like Respighi’s Roman trilogy, you are bound to find a close relative to it in Malipiero’s Symphony. It’s an exquisitely beautiful score, easily and immediately accessible, luxuriantly orchestrated, and filled with many memorable mood-evoking passages. I was so spellbound by the Lento, ma non troppo that I had to listen to it a second time before continuing on to the last movement. As the saying goes, “You can take the Romantic out of the 19th century, but . . .”.


Eschewing even the superficial program of the Symphony No. 1, the Symphony No. 2, “Elegiaca,” is also in four movements, but orders them in a fast-slow-fast-slow sequence. Three years in Malipiero’s life made no difference in his style. He was at this juncture still a dyed-in-the-wool Romantic, and this work dating from 1936 is as resplendent and gorgeous as the previous one. Again, it’s in the slow movements that Malipiero pours out his heart and soul in music that is never cloying but that nonetheless can make you weep. Considering the modernist trends of the time—Schoenberg’s Fourth String Quartet was written in the same year—it’s little wonder that history has marginalized Malipiero, along with many of the composers mentioned at the outset, as regressive and even reactionary. But unless one is an academic elitist of the worst kind, that should not be an argument against music written by any composer in any period that is beautiful and moving; and I can tell you that Malipiero’s music is both. I know that I, for one, having heard this disc, will be expanding my heretofore very limited Malipiero collection.


There do not appear to be any competing recordings of these works currently listed, so it’s providential that Antonio de Almeida and the Moscow Symphony Orchestra give exceptionally fine performances. I did not realize, however, until reading the fine print, that this Naxos disc is actually a re-release of a 1993 recording that originally appeared on the marco polo label. So make sure you don’t already have it before you run out and buy this one. If you don’t, this is a must-have purchase.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

KRAUS: Symphonies, Vol. 4

The Yellow River Concerto is one of the most popular of all Chinese works, a richly melodic exploration of scenic variety, and a forceful expression of patriotic pride. Written in 1958 by Chen Gang and He Zhanhao, the Butterfly Lovers Violin Concerto has achieved world renown for it's moving and beautiful synthesis of Western and Eastern traditions. In 1985 Chen Gang made an arrangement for piano and orchestra, played on this recording in the edition by the brilliant international soloist Chen Jie. Since her debut with the Philadelphia Orchestra under Wolfgang Sawallisch, at the age of sixteen, Chen Jie has performed in many leading concert venues around the world. She has won praise at many international competitions including the Arthur Rubinstein Piano Master Competition and the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition (USA). Carolyn Kuan is recognized as one of the most exciting, innovative and outstanding conductors of her generation. Her North American engagements include the Baltimore, San Francisco, Detroit and Seattle symphonies. She holds the distinction of being the first female to be awarded the Herbert von Karajan Conducting Fellowship.

Brusa: Orchestral Works, Vol. 2

Hindemith's seven string quartets were produced in different phases of his compositional development, all reflecting the experience of being a distinguished and experienced string player. Influenced both by Brahmsian late-Romanticism and by the catastrophic events of the First World War, the imaginative String Quartet No. 1 reflects his concern to extend but honor traditional forms. Cast in the form of a suite, the by turns tempestuous and beautiful String Quartet No. 4 remains Hindemith's most popular and performed quartet. This is the third and final volume of a highly acclaimed cycle. 'As with the previous release in this series, the performances are all outstanding.

I came away from hearing this version with renewed enthusiasm for the work.

Sibelius wrote very little for the cello, although some of his violin pieces allow alternative instrumentation.

Carlo Gesualdo, Prince of Venosa, became famous for two reasons: The bloody double murder of his first wife and her lover and his passionate and erotic view of profane love.

Although the Italian composer, Michelangelo Rossi, was hailed in his lifetime as a violin virtuoso, a distinguished madrigalist and composer of two operas, his reputation is founded on his astonishingly original and technically advanced keyboard music.

You may feel drawn to this disc out of a sense of duty. You know that you ought to know more of Schubert’s overtures than the so-called “Rosamunde” or the Overtures in the Italian Style. So you put this disc on – and are immediately transported with a sense of sheer delight. What is more, this continues throughout the disc as one engaging work follows another. At the end you pour yourself another cup of Earl Grey and start again. Well, at least that was my experience.

You may know all of these early works already and have scores or good recordings of them, in which case none of this will come as a surprise. For those who do not, let me explain that the nine overtures on this disc are all relatively early works written for a variety of purposes. Some are for operas or plays, some are concert works, and the last was probably written for a Cantata in honour of the Chief Inspector of Elementary Schools, a man also in charge of the fund for teachers’ widows. Despite that it is a very engaging piece. The notes by Keith Anderson helpfully explain the origins of each Overture, but I doubt whether you would be able to distinguish which is which without those notes. They are however unfailingly attractive, most with slow introductions followed by sonata-form movements. If you enjoy Schubert’s first three Symphonies, you will certainly enjoy these pieces which are very much in a similar vein and with similar virtues, especially in respect of the very characteristic scoring. Over and over again the listener will find themselves delighted by a turn of phrase, an unexpected harmony or deft orchestration.

Although clearly this is essentially down to the composer, much of the pleasure of the disc is also due to the bright but affectionate performances by the Prague Sinfonia, an expanded version of the Prague Chamber Orchestra. Christian Benda comes from a very distinguished family of Czech musicians and directs performances that are just right for these pieces, avoiding on the one hand blandness and on the other excessive point making. The recording quality is clear and full.

You will have gathered by now that I have had considerable pleasure from this disc. Completeness can be a mixed blessing, but on this occasion I am very glad that Naxos have decided to do this in respect of a category as unexpected as Schubert’s Overtures.

-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International

RESPIGHI La primavera (orch. Adriano). 1 4 lirichi su poesie popolari armene. 2 La pentola magica 3 • Adriano, cond; Richard Haan ( Praying One ); 1 Miroslav Dvorský ( Young Man ); 1 Jana Valásková ( Sirvard ); 1 Vladimír Kubov?ik ( Old Man ); 1 Denisa Šlepkovská (mez); 2 Jakub Francisci (trb); 3 Slovak PCh; 1 Slovak RSO • NAXOS 8.570741 (79:20)


These may be unfamiliar works, but there will be no mistaking the composer of the opening of La primavera —it could fit seamlessly into The Fountains of Rome —nor the echoes of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Le coq d’or in its fifth movement. The Russian’s influence is obvious throughout this work, with its bold colors and brash exuberance united by Respighi, with surprising success, to Gregorian ecclesiastical modes. A setting of Italian verse by flamboyant 20th-century Armenian poet Gostan Zarian, the texts are, judging from the synopsis provided, uncomfortably naive. However, those of us with no Italian need not be concerned, since no text or translation is provided. This recording—a re-release of a 1994 marco polo CD from a six-disc series of neglected Respighi—features Slovakian artists relatively unknown in the U.S. The one familiar name is Dvorský. This is not, however, the more famous Peter, but rather Miroslav, one of four Dvorský brothers who sing opera. All of the soloists are skillful, though one could occasionally wish for more abandon. Dvorský’s Young Man is pleasingly ardent, with nice thrust on the top. Baritone Richard Haan’s tendency to wobble detracts only a bit from his noble Praying One, Bass Vladimir Kubov?ik is a sonorous Old Man, and soprano Jana Valásková creates the beautiful young Sirvard charmingly, if with a bit more maturity and edge to her tone than ideal.


Continuing the Armenian theme, Quattro lirichi —from the same marco polo release—is a setting of poems by Zorian and 12th-century theologian and saint, Nerses Shenorhali. Originally written for Respighi’s wife Elsa, it, like La primavera , achieves an archaic pastoral quality through use of church modes. Gregorian chant was Elsa’s academic specialty and she was instrumental in introducing the modes to Respighi’s compositional palette. Mezzo Denisa Šlepkovská has a luxuriant voice, but her performance of the songs, fine though it is, might have been enhanced by a bit more subtlety and shading. Adriano orchestrated Respighi’s piano accompaniment for a chamber orchestra approximation of an Armenian deste ensemble. Elsa Respighi approved, and it certainly works. La pentola magica , a 1991 marco polo release, is a ballet pastiche of works by lesser-known 19th-century Russian composers, with original material in the same style and an ethereal setting of an Armenian folk theme for boy soprano. Only the most hardened of detractors of Respighi’s “new old music” could fail to be won over by this beguiling work. As in its successor, La boutique fantasque , Respighi succeeds in retaining the character of the originals while unifying them in a clever and cohesive new work.


I hope that this Naxos re-release, the second from the series, signals the eventual release of the ballet and cantata discs, currently only available as arkivmusic.com CD-R reissues, alas without Adriano’s informative liner notes. Adriano, the Swiss conductor and Respighi expert who led all of the original series, invests these works with energy and beauty. The Bratislava-based ensemble performs well, though the winds are less distinguished than the strings. The choir is excellent. The sound on this release is slightly brighter and clearer than the marco polo issue, though neither issue has a solid bottom. Gianandrea Noseda and the BBC Philharmonic have recorded an excellent La pentola magica for Chandos (10081) coupled with La boutique fantasque . While better played than the Naxos, it remains a second choice for me, as Adriano and his orchestra realize more of the dreamy charm of the work. Especially at Naxos’s prices, admirers of Respighi’s more famous scores should not hesitate.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

FAURÉ Music for Cello and Piano • Ina-Esther Joost Ben-Sasson (vc); Allan Sternfield (pn) • NAXOS 8570545 (70:06)


Sicilienne, op. 78. Sonata No. 2, op. 117. Après un rêve, op. 7/1. Elégie, op. 24. Romance, op. 69. Berceuse, op. 16. Papillon, op. 77. Sérénade, op. 98. Sonata No. 1, op. 109. Pavane, op. 50


A blurb on the back cover of this album states that “Fauré’s musical language bridged a gap between 19th-century Romanticism and the music that appeared with the new century.” Sounds like something I’ve said before, even having gone so far as to say that Fauré is the missing link between Brahms and Debussy. Whether one chooses to accept that argument or not, it cannot be denied that Gabriel Fauré (1845–1924), a disciple of Saint-Saëns and an admirer of Schumann, Liszt, and Wagner, had, by the turn of the 20th century, largely fashioned a personal style based on the teachings of Gustave Lefèvre, as set forth in his book Traité d’harmonie , published in 1889. In it Lefèvre advances the idea that chords of the seventh and ninth are not dissonant, ergo, they do not require resolution; and that the third of the scale may freely alternate between major and minor within a “composite” scale that incorporates both modes. These ideas were of course embraced by the likes of Walter Piston and Roger Sessions in their own updated 20th-century treatises on harmony. And one hasn’t far to travel from the unresolved sevenths and ninths of Lefèvre and Fauré to the chromatically altered seventh, ninth, 11th, and bi-tonal chords, and the whole-tone and pentatonic scales of Debussy.


Most of the works on this disc are early to middle Fauré, and thus closer in content and style to the romantic aesthetic than they are to the composer’s later efforts. And three of the pieces are arrangements of works originally written for other media. The famous Après un rêve of 1870, presented here in a transcription by Pablo Casals, was conceived as a mélodie for voice and piano. The 1878–79 Berceuse was a violin and piano piece. And the ubiquitous 1887 Pavane , given here in an arrangement by Henri Büsser, was an orchestral work with choral parts later added.


Placing the remaining numbers, originally for cello, in chronological order, we have the Elégie (1883), the Romance (1894), Papillon (1894), Sicilienne (1898), the Sérénade (1908), the First Sonata (1917), and the Second Sonata (1921). While Fauré’s output did not cease in the decade between the 1898 Sicilienne and the 1908 Sérénade , it’s interesting to note that his 1898 incidental music to Pelléas et Mélisande was quite possibly his final doffing of his 19th-century Romantic hat. There’s no questioning that the next few years were a time of reexamination for Fauré. Surely, he must have heard Debussy’s opera based on the same play that was premiered in 1902, and possibly even Schoenberg’s exactly contemporaneous tone poem on the subject. And though I doubt that Sibelius would have been known in France at this early date, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that Fauré may even have heard the Finnish composer’s 1905 incidental music of the same title. Whatever the extent of Fauré’s exposure to these various stimuli may have been, changes in his compositional style and technique become evident with his 1906 song cycle La Chanson d’Eve , op. 95.


Both of the cello sonatas belong to Fauré’s late period, the second of the two being among his last works. While still conforming to a Classical three-movement fast-slow-fast pattern, the harmonic language is now freer and the melodic treatment more fluid, giving a sense that the music is “through-composed.” With the exception of an 1888 Petite pièce in G Major, op. 49, which has been lost, the current Naxos disc, as far as I know, gives us all of Fauré’s original works for cello, plus the three aforementioned arrangements.


German-born, prize-winning cellist Ina-Esther Joost Ben-Sasson studied with Pierre Fournier and Sergiu Celibidache. She is today an Israeli citizen, and principal cellist and frequent soloist with the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra. Her discography, at least according to Naxos’s brief bio, includes the Bach suites for solo cello, but I was not able to find it, or any other of her recordings, listed. Allan Sternfield is a “made in the U.S.A.” product, having studied at Baltimore’s Peabody Conservatory of Music. He was subsequently coached by Leon Fleisher and Wilhelm Kempff.


Naxos has here entered into competition with itself, for another fine release on the same label with Maria Kliegel and Nina Tichman, minus the Pavane , contains exactly the same program. Such duplication seems odd, especially since both discs seem to have been recorded only a year and a half apart. The current Joost/Sternfield CD, just released, was recorded mid 2007; the Kliegel/Tichman, released in 2008, was recorded late in 2005. It’s a head-scratcher to be sure. Be that as it may, a comparison between the two reveals little difference, certainly not enough to warrant purchasing Joost/Sternfield if you already have Kliegel/Tichman. J&S offer an extra with the inclusion of the Pavane , a piece you’re already bound to have in its original orchestral version. In general, though not in every single case, J&S are a bit slower in their tempo choices than K&T in the short pieces, and considerably so in the two sonatas. This may impart a somewhat more nostalgic feeling to J&S’s readings, which can, at times, suggest a salon atmosphere. But in terms of technical execution, tone production, and intonation, I would be happy with either recording.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Here is a recording of rarities on two counts. Not only is the music of Kryukov, Vasilenko, Frid, Krein and Bogdanov-Berezovsky little known outside of Russia, but viola sonatas are as welcome as they are scarce. Romantic lyricism, the influence of Scriabin.

Naxos is proud to announce the Tintner Memorial Edition, a special series of recordings celebrating the life and work of the late Georg Tintner. Through his passion for music, Maestro Tintner touched audiences and musicians on five continents. In an age that celebrates presentation over content, he remained resolute in his belief in the transcendent importance of musical ideas.

ARENSKY 6 Pieces, op. 53; 4 Etudes, op. 41; 12 Etudes, op. 74; 6 Esquisses, “Près de la mer,” op. 52 • Adam Neiman (pn) • NAXOS 8.572233 (63:37)


Rimsky-Korsakov, writing in his Chronicles of My Musical Life , said that he believed his student Anton Arensky “will soon be forgotten.” Apart from a few compositions that are still performed today, among them the Variations on a Theme of Tchaikovsky, the D-Minor Piano Trio, and the suites for two pianos, most of Arensky’s works have suffered just that fate. Happily, some of these lesser-known works are being explored again, notably here, and in a field in which Arensky spent a good deal of his attention, the piano music.


All of the works on the present recital are similar in that they are all less than five minutes in length. If there is one strong point to Arensky’s compositional skills, it is that he is able to use this characteristic to his advantage to create mood quickly and effectively. Once Arensky has chosen the basic mood of the piece, there is a fundamental continuity of mood that exists until the end. But though many of the lyrical pieces make pleasant listening, most of the melodic material is forgettable. That said, there are beautifully conceived moments, in which Arensky’s attention to details of figuration brings much interest to the pieces. One such moment can be found in the lyrical D-Major Etude of op. 74, with its static sense of waterfall-like arpeggiations. The grand dotted rhythms of the French overture-like prelude (minus the fugue) in the op. 53 set is yet another. Adam Neiman is a good advocate for much of this repertoire, as he possesses the technical prowess necessary to play these pieces, and a feeling for tonal shading and breath. The lighter pieces (the Scherzo, also in the op. 53 set, for example) suffer perhaps a bit from heavy-handedness, but not so much as to disturb the generally playful character that he brings to the music.


This is not essential listening, but it is enlightening to hear a composition every once in a while that reminds one of the next generation of Russian composers, in particular Arensky’s own students—both Rachmaninoff and Scriabin being among them. Recorded in excellent sound, on a Fazioli grand piano, Neiman makes this music sound as good as any I’ve heard. The repertoire is specialized but the price is right. Recommended for those, then, who particularly like Russian music, or who want to delve deeper into their understanding of the roots of 20th-century Russian music.


FANFARE: Scott Noriega

Busoni embodied an essentially recreative approach to the music of the past. His Bach transcriptions reveal an absolute command of intricate polyphony and a limpid clarity. Mozart stood as an aesthetic and technical exemplar while Cramer’s little-known Etudes are adapted for modern piano technique. Busoni preserved the Lutheran austerity of Brahms’s Chorale Preludes for Organ, Op. 122 whereas in the Mephisto Waltz No. 1 he augments Liszt’s heady writing with a super-virtuosity of his own. Wolf Harden I one of the most versatile pianists of his generation. He has enjoyed great success in the Trio Fontenay, an ensemble that he founded in 1980 and with which he has toured to all the world’s major music centres. Harden devotes himself not only to chamber music but, with the same success, to the solo piano repertoire.

Music from Pirates of the Caribbean, the English Patient, Jurassic Park, Shakespeare in Love, Batman, the Pink Panther, Mission Impossible, Love Story, Superman, Romeo and Juliet, the Godfather, the French Lieutenant's Woman.

The Persian composer, Reza Vali, began his music studies at the Tehran Conservatory of Music, finally settling in the United States. His compositions include pieces for orchestra, string quartet, piano and voice, and chamber ensemble.

Guitar Recital: Johan Fostier

Carl Nielsen's "other" orchestral music includes a number of overtures and tone poems that on recordings usually show up appended to performances of his six symphonies. This primarily theatrical music reveals a surprisingly fantastical side to the composer's imagination, freed from the strictures of symphonic form. This is especially evident in the Aladdin Suite, where Nielsen concocts some fetching and convincingly authentic-sounding Arabian melodies, all lavished with exotic orchestral coloring. Dance rhythms abound, punctuated by spiky percussion. Niklás Willén and his South Jutland Symphony players effectively capture the distinctly-drawn moods of widely varied movements, though Esa-Pekka Salonen's Sony recording bristles with an energy and excitement (especially in the Festival March and Negro Dance) that's less apparent here.


Atmosphere again is Willén's strong suit as he evokes the mystical realms of Saga-Dream and Pan and Syrinx while deftly rendering the Helios Overture's stirring drama. Maskarade's bright comedy comes across effectively (though Järvi is unmatched for sheer exuberance). Finally, the brief Cupid and the Poet is from Nielsen's late style, sounding very much like his quirky and tonally ambiguous Clarinet Concerto. Overall, this is a fine set of performances, and it's great to have all these Nielsen gems together on one disc. Naxos' big-hall perspective is somewhat distant, but the sound-picture fills out nicely at those big, brassy climaxes.
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

Naxos’s acclaimed survey of Luís de Freitas Branco’s orchestral works continues with his magisterial Third Symphony which, although composed in 1944, revels in Romantic melodrama and luminous orchestral sonorities. The brooding, agitated atmosphere of his tone poem The Death of Manfred for strings contrasts with the expansive Suite Alentejana No. 2, with its evocations of the rural landscape, folklore and village life of the Alentejo region south-east of Lisbon, where the composer owned a large estate and composed many of his works.

Volume 3 of the complete Rossini symphonic overtures continues the pattern of placing rarities such as the lively student work, Grand'overtura 'obbligata a contrabasso,' and Matilde of Shabran, set in medieval Spain, alongside perennial hits such as the Italian Girl in Algiers and La Cenerentola (Cinderella), said to have been written in just three weeks. Classics Today described Volume 2 (8.570934) of this series as 'delightful... amazing... strongly recommended.'

Nobody interested in early keyboard music should miss this disc.

Some of the most important forms of keyboard music have their origin in the 16th century, in particular the prelude, the toccata and the fugue. In Italy, in the mid-16th century, crucial developments in keyboard composing took place. Among the composers who were responsible for the evolution of keyboard music was Andrea Gabrieli. For that reason a disc which is completely devoted to his keyboard oeuvre is of great importance. It also sheds light on a part of Gabrieli's oeuvre which is not that well-known.

Andrea Gabrieli was born in Venice and was educated as an organist. In 1557 he applied for the position of organist of San Marco, as the successor to Girolamo Parabosco. He failed, and Claudio Merulo was appointed, who would then develop into one of the main musical personalities in Venice in the next 25 years. In the early 1560s Gabrieli came into contact with Orlandus Lassus. In 1562 Lassus' employer, Duke Albrecht V of Bavaria, went to Frankfurt to attend the coronation of Emperor Maximilian II. In his retinue were both Lassus and Gabrieli. But his heart apparently was in Venice. In 1566 he was appointed as organist of San Marco - alongside Merulo - and he resisted an attempt by Lassus to make him return to Bavaria to enter the service of Duke Albrecht. Little is known about him as a person, but in his liner-notes Glen Wilson includes a quotation which suggests Gabrieli was a demanding teacher.

This disc presents a survey of the various genres in vogue at the time. It doesn't include all genres to which Gabrieli contributed. Wilson has omitted that part of his oeuvre intended for the organ. Therefore the Intonazioni which were to be played before a vocal piece, indicating the pitch to the singers, are missing. Instead we get two preludes here, which also can be played at the organ. This kind of piece was originally improvised, and it doesn't surprise me that they were mostly not printed. That’s certainly thre case with the two played here which have both come down to us in manuscript. The other free form with improvisational origins is the toccata. Venice was the main centre of toccata writing, and Gabrieli played an important role in the development of this form. The two toccatas on this disc are in three contrasting sections.

The toccata has roots in the ricercar, one of the main forms of keyboard music at the time. Two types of ricercar are known in music history, the imitative and the non-imitative. The former is the kind of ricercar used in Italy and developed by Gabrieli into a piece on a single theme. In addition he deployed various techniques which were to become a standard part of the fugue in the baroque era, like inversion and diminution. Gabrieli also wrote ricercars on vocal subjects. The Ricercar sopra Pour ung plaisir is an example; it is based on a chanson by Thomas Crecquillon. Here he only uses themes from this chanson, unlike in the canzonas on vocal models, like the Canzona Frais et gaillard, again on a chanson by Crecquillon. In this the upper voice of the vocal original is treated according to the diminution technique which was so popular in Italy. Part of it involves the breaking up of the longer notes in fast passages and the addition of ornaments. The madrigals Anchor che col partire by Cipriano de Rore and Io mi son giovinetta by Domenico Ferrabosco are treated the same way. Lastly Wilson plays two independent pieces, the Ricercar arioso and the Canzon ariosa which may have a vocal character but are not based on vocal models.

The interest of this programme lies in the range of forms on display here. Moreover Wilson has ordered the pieces in such a way that there is a maximum of variety. That is also due to the alternating use of two different instruments. Most pieces are performed on a harpsichord, but it is nice to hear a spinet as well, which was a common instrument but is not often used in recordings. Both instruments are built after Venetian models of the 16th century. "Their soft iron single-stringing produces a more vocal sound than that usually associated with later types of Italian harpsichords", Glen Wilson states.

And he is right: the sound of the instruments suits the music very well. He is also an excellent guide through Gabrieli's oeuvre, and brings out the idiosyncracies of his music convincingly. He plays brilliantly but never in an exhibitionist way. The tempi are well-chosen, and the counterpoint is allowed to blossom.

Nobody interested in early keyboard music should miss this disc.

-- Johan van Veen, MusicWeb International

Includes work(s) for organ by Heinrich Scheidemann. Soloist: Julia Brown.

CLEMENTI Overture in C. Symphonies: No. 3 in G, “The Great National”; No. 4 in D • Francesco La Vecchia, cond; O S di Roma • NAXOS 8.573112 (71:32)


A riddle that may be posited is: “When is a symphony not a symphony?” There are, of course, a number of possible answers, but in the case of Muzio Clementi (1752–1832), this becomes a rather relevant issue. Clementi was an important composer for the keyboard, and his duel with Mozart in front of Emperor Joseph II is the stuff of legend (as are Mozart’s less than charitable comments on Clementi’s music and performance). As a composer of orchestral works, however, the entire situation becomes quite murky. When he established himself in London at the end of the 18th century, he achieved some renown as a teacher and publisher; one only needs note his protégé John Field, who Clementi apparently abandoned while on tour to Russia, as a pupil who was to achieve important things. He did, however, also dabble in the composition of orchestral music, eventually composing an undetermined number of works even as Napoleon was ravaging Europe and finally defeated. To be sure, like most composers of the time, he had a wide range of works, and in 1787 apparently even published a couple of symphonies as his op. 18 (available on the companion disc to this Naxos release). But the late works were and remain problematic, for even though they were featured on concert programs in the post-Napoleonic era in Northern Europe, somehow they failed to survive intact, forcing the inevitable “reconstruction” by modern scholars, namely Alfredo Casella and Pietro Spada. The work of these musicologists has been hampered by a web of conflicting sources, non-sequitur fragments, and portions which have been lost to time. Nonetheless, they have succeeded in cobbling together the works featured on this disc; two complete symphonies and the torso of a third (here euphemistically labeled an Overture).


This is not the time or place to discuss these reconstructions (here done by Spada), but suffice it to say that the editions do seem musically cohesive, albeit with no guarantee that these are in any shape or form what Clementi actually intended in toto . Still, they do allow for a glimpse into his work as an orchestral composer. My only concern is the extraordinarily heavy orchestration, including trombones, which seems to give the works an overweening sense of modernity at times. To be blunt, the textures are often extremely dense, sounding like these were companion pieces to, say, the Schubert Great C-Major, and I am not at all convinced that this is what Clementi, trained in the Italian Classical tradition, was after. The brief notes state that the symphonies are “more closely [tied] to the tradition of Haydn and Mozart than they are to post-Eroica Beethoven,” with a passing nod to the latter’s obvious influence. My view is that this seems far-fetched, particularly given these reconstructions. The “Overture,” for example, has a nicely waltzing main theme foreign to Classicism, and the lyrical second theme is positively Schubertian. It is performed in a Beethovian manner, but the appearance of an um-chuck-chuck accompaniment figure places us fairly close to the world of Italian bel canto opera. It is also rather repetitive. The symphonies, on the other hand, show a wider variety of styles, much of which probably is due to the reconstruction process. The so-called “Great National Symphony” in G Major (which nation I cannot fathom) has a slow, plodding opening followed by an obvious hymn, which is then repeated. Some of the faster portions sound heroic, but then Clementi devolves into a pattern reminiscent of Rossini. The second movement, with its massive brass introduction, also features variations on a hymn, and the Finale is positively in the manner of Haydn’s London symphonies; light and frothy. The D-Major Symphony offers more depth, with a solemn, mysterious D-Minor opening that seems to create a dramatic scene, which then dissipates into an Allegro that would not be out of place in one of Schubert’s early symphonies, both in tone and texture. The cantabile is suitably languid, and the off-beat minuet in B Minor positively Beethovian. Despite the thick orchestration, Haydn returns in the rondo Finale, save for a brief B theme that I would swear is Beethoven.


In short, the reconstructions offer a pretty mixed bag, but in Spada’s defense, I will say that his works reasonably well, given the tortuous path he probably had to negotiate to get a playable, cogent score. As for the performance, the Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma does a rather nice job. The tempos seem in order and the ensemble fits well together. The sound can be a bit muddy sometimes, particularly when the entire brass corps plays together, but this may be a consequence of the microphone placement or venue (I can’t decide which). My final verdict is that if you are collecting early 19th-century music and want an alternative to the multiple Schubert and Beethoven discs out there, this might prove interesting, but one should be aware of the caveat that the question of whether all of it is as Clementi wished it to be is still open.


FANFARE: Bertil van Boer

CHOPIN Songs (19). CHOPIN-VIARDOT-GARCIA Seize-Ans. Aime-moi. L’oiselet. Coquette • Olga Pasichnyk (sop); Natalya Pasichnyk (pn) • NAXOS 8572499 (57:04)


It seems like 100 years ago, but it was only the late 1960s when Maria Kurenko’s now-legendary album of Chopin songs (recorded, I believe, in mono) first appeared on LP in this country. It was considered sui generis, and so it was for many years; but now here we are in the 21st century, and there are several collections of these charming pieces available, including the first-class performances by Konrad Jarnot reviewed above.


Olga Pasichnyk, a Ukrainian soprano who studied at both the Kiev Conservatory and the Chopin Academy of Music in Warsaw, gives us beautiful, charming, deeply felt, and often spectacularly sung performances of these songs. Being in the original Polish helps a lot—excepting, of course, the four extra songs in French, which are actually arrangements by Pauline Viardot-Garcia of instrumental pieces, of which more later—and it also helps that Pasichnyk has not only the voice but the technique, interpretive skills, and voice to sing them. My only caveat is that, like so many Slavic soprano voices, hers has that unusual (to Western ears) prominent vibrato, not always even under pressure, but in this case Naxos’s overly ambient sonics cover some of the edginess of the voice. Otherwise, her voice is sweet of timbre, surprisingly flexible in both range and florid ornaments, and at times quite stunning in unexpected ways. Possibly because the original texts are less cumbersome in syllabic structure, she is able to sing them at quicker tempos than Jarnot, which allows her to fit in the four extra Viardot songs (totaling about 12 minutes) to the recital while only adding four minutes to the total disc time.


Pasichnyk also possesses a quality rare among present-day singers in that she has a “smile in the voice.” This is a rare and precious asset, not to be taken lightly, and she makes the listener smile as well. The Viardot-Garcia songs are rarely performed because they are far more technically difficult than Chopin’s own songs, but again Pasichnyk rises to the challenge; listen particularly to Aime-moi, set to the music of the Mazurka No. 23 in D. This piece demands not only a polished technique but, more importantly, the ability to use that technique in a flowing, instrumental manner—in other words, to emulate the way the notes are played on a piano. Pasichnyk does this so well, and so easily, that my jaw drops to hear it. And, like everything else she sings, she has worked over her technique so well that one is scarcely aware of the immense hard work that underlies her ease of execution. I assume that Natalya Pasichnyk is her sister, though the relationship is not mentioned in the notes, but whether she is or not, she is a first-rate accompanist and also knows this style like the back of her hand. Again, no texts are included in the booklet.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley


It was just a few months since I welcomed a disc with Chopin’s complete songs, marvellously performed by the great Lied singer Konrad Jarnot. I even had it on my list of possible candidates for Recording of the Year but in the semi-finals it lost against Yann Beuron’s Fauré recording. It is still a very good disc but has two drawbacks: there are no texts and translations in the booklet and it is sung in German. The new Naxos disc is sung in the original Polish and while the rather meagre inlay has no room for the texts they can be accessed on the Naxos website. That’s good service but I have never quite managed to come to terms with listening to music in front of the computer. To be frank: I hate that and I have found that I am not alone. End of complaint.

The original language makes an important difference insofar as it was the Polish words that Chopin set. To sensitive song composers the musical values inherent in the sounds as much as the actual meaning of the words are essential. Here one feels an integration that seems totally authentic while Jarnot’s German texts stand out as slightly strange birds. Since he is such a distinctive interpreter, the ‘wrong’ language didn’t bother me but I get closer to the atmosphere of the songs in the Olga Pasichnyk’s readings. Coming from Ukraine, Polish obviously isn’t her mother tongue but parts of her studies were carried through in Warsaw and she was soloist at the Warsaw Chamber Opera from 1992. Hers is a truly lovely and beautiful voice and she is a most sensitive singer, producing ravishing pianissimos. The majority of these songs are lyrical and poetic and Olga Pasichnyk is an ideal interpreter. It also seems that a female voice is more natural in this repertoire, though that may just be prejudice. But she also has the required power Hulanka (tr. 4), this outgoing, burlesque dance, where she responds with some stirring chest notes while otherwise retaining the elegance and sensitivity.

She is also careful with words and the whole recital is so alive and ‘lived-in’. Just listen to her inflexions of the text in Sliczny chlopiec (tr. 8) and the hushed intensity in Melodia (tr. 9). She certainly covers all the interpretative facets of these songs. One of my favourites is Moja pieszczoyka (tr. 12), a delicate waltz, that I can’t remember hearing better sung, and Piosnka litewska (Lithuanian Song)(tr. 16) is another highlight, simple and enchanting.

Her sister Natalya is an extraordinarily flexible accompanist and contributes greatly to the overall impression.

As a bonus we are offered four out of the twelve songs the famous singer Pauline Viardot arranged from mazurkas by Chopin. Viardot was a technical phenomenon with a range of three octaves and virtuoso technique and the songs were written to show off her ability. Chopin was also satisfied with the songs and they are splendid showpieces. Olga Pasichnyk has both the brilliant top as well as a contralto depth – listen to Coquette (tr. 23) – and the technique to negotiate the vocal fireworks.

The recording is fully worthy of the interpretations and anyone wanting a recording of this lesser known part of Chopin’s oeuvre need look no further. At super budget price and sung in the original Polish – the Viardot songs are in French – and with texts and translations available on the internet this is a self-recommending issue.

Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International

Can Attila is one fo the leading Turkish composers of his generation. Success in film and television music has been accompanied by comparable achievement in the orchestral repertory. The Gallipoli campaigns in the First World War have always held particular significance for Atilla, and Symphony No. 2 "Gallipoli" - The 57th Regiment is a war symphony, composed for the commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the battle. This powerful elegy, in which the first two movements have an important role for solo cello, commemorates the tragic Turkish 57th Regiment and is also dedicated to the Anzac soliders who perished in the battle.

Dvorák's String Quintet with double bass can be counted among his finest chamber works (or actually among his finest works, period). It contains all of the composer's trademark compositional virtues: vibrant energy, gorgeous melodies, dancing rhythms, and an overall life-affirming spirit. There's spirit aplenty in the Vlach Quartet's joyous reading, augmented by Jakub Waldmann's double bass, which, thanks to Naxos' beautifully balanced, sonorous recording, adds a satisfyingly deep bottom to the ensemble sound. The Quintet originally contained five movements, but Dvorák removed the intermezzo and published it separately as the familiar Nocturno, which here receives an exquisitely tender and serene reading from the Prague players.


The tunes in Drobnosti (miniatures) will be recognizable to anyone familiar with Dvorák's Romantic Pieces for piano and violin, here in their original version for two violins and viola. This arrangement sounds slight after the robust tones of the preceding Quintet, but the delicate tunes nonetheless retain their power to enchant. Finally, the melancholy Andante appassionato (from an aborted early string quartet project), is notable for its beautiful tunes and an animated middle section that bears a striking stylistic resemblance to Tchaikovsky. In sum, a richly varied and highly enjoyable program. [12/19/2002]
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

Thalberg: Fantasies On Operas by Rossini

Petri Sakari knows this music, obviously loves it, and paces it to perfection. Indeed, his performance of The Bard may just be the finest available, particularly in the work's latter stages and final climax. The dark timbres of the lower winds--bass clarinet and bassoon particularly--not only add immeasurably to the atmosphere that colors the opening of Pohjola's Daughter, but also help to create the deep currents of The Oceanides and overshadow the pine forests of Tapiola. The Iceland Symphony Orchestra plays with complete security, and Sakari ensures that textures and balances retain the necessary transparency without sacrificing power. Indeed, the all-important bass drum part in En Saga seldom has registered with such dynamic accuracy (though as with all of these Naxos productions, make sure to turn the volume up to enjoy the best sound).


That said, there is one big fly in this particular musical ointment. The Iceland orchestra has a comparatively small string section, and while this fact certainly contributes to the clarity noted above, it robs the climaxes of sheer heft. This is particularly true during the headlong rush to the big cymbal crash in En Saga, the huge final wave in The Oceanides, and above all the great storm music in Tapiola. To his credit, Sakari doesn't push his players beyond their natural ability. For example, in Tapiola he cleverly ensures that the storm remains a background to the ferocious eruptions in the brass and timpani, but it's still impossible not to feel the lack in those moments (such as the ensuing dissonant shriek) where a big string sound is absolutely essential.


So is this disc recommendable? Certainly it is. But if you are one of those people whose preferences in this music demand Karajan's Berlin Philharmonic strings, you might be happier elsewhere. Still, there's far too much worth hearing to dismiss this issue for that reason alone. Sakari and his players capture the music's dark colors and primal qualities as do few others, and when all is said and done they offer a quintessentially Sibelian listening experience.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com