Puerto Rican composer and guitarist Ernesto Cordero dedicated his Concierto Festivo to celebrated soloist Pepe Romero, who describes the work as having ‘divine inspiration’. These works derive their warmth of expression and rhythmic influence from the composer’s native Caribbean island, and the two violin concertos ĺnsula and Concerto Tropical both contain descriptive elements from landscape and nature. ĺnsula is dedicated to renowned violinist and conductor Guillermo Figueroa, and I Solisti di Zagreb are recognised as one of the world’s leading chamber orchestras.

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Exemplary performances by everyone make these concerti shine all the brighter…the recordings are good. They project a modest soundstage with the soloists well placed and balanced in a reverberant acoustic that will appeal to those liking wetter sonics. The guitar is beautifully captured, while the string sound is generally pleasant…

© 2011 Classical Lost and Found

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The guitar concerto – written for and here played by its dedicatee, Pepe Romero - is exciting and draws on the harsh rhythmic bark of violent strumming. There are moments when one is aware of Cordero’s debt to Rodrigo but it is by no means immanent. The writing, across all three works, puts me in mind of Piazzolla’s Cuatro Estaciones Porteñas but also of Schnittke’s super-romantic steely hyper-baroque writing. Casting a benign light across these concertos is a presence I had not expected: that of Vaughan Williams. More than occasionally RVW’s characteristic pastoral pentatonic sound comes to mind. It’s a foundation or an overlay rather than a facsimile of The Lark Ascending. Even so the two works for violin and orchestra are rather reminiscent of The Lark but perceived through the intensifying lens of late-twentieth century angst. The orchestration is delicate and the ideas often tender. However, when the music becomes animated the style moves towards the stony despair and the metallic exuberance of the Shostakovich violin concertos. The useful liner-notes are by the composer.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

An essential addition to many collections.

Jerusalem and I was glad have been recorded zillions of times, as you might expect given their exalted status among English cathedral choral works. Even the six motets that make up the Songs of Farewell have been well-treated on disc, and at least one other recording, from St. George's Chapel Windsor Castle (Hyperion), nearly duplicates this program. Among all of those recordings you inevitably could find performances of individual works that are to some degree better than the ones presented here, but Christopher Stokes and his 25-voice Manchester Cathedral Choir (15 boy-and-girl trebles joined with 10 altos, tenors, and basses), along with organist Jeffrey Makinson and the Naxos production team, give lovers of this music the spacious cathedral ambience and the spirited performances they expect, technically sound and fervently expressed.

It's nearly impossible to imagine ever growing tired of Parry's magnificent setting of William Blake's Jerusalem, nor of such sensitive and deeply moving realizations of the poetry in the Songs of Farewell, particularly Thomas Campion's Never weather-beaten sail and Psalm 39 (Lord, let me know mine end). Here they are treated as respectfully and rendered as powerfully as any choir has done, and rarely do you hear such lovely treble singing as in the selection from Parry's oratorio Judith (Long since in Egypt's plenteous land). Speaking of trebles, the recording--and apparently the cathedral space itself--favors them at the expense of the lower voices, and the organ, wonderful as it is to hear, also tends to be a bit too assertive at times. But these are not criticisms serious enough to undermine the very fine, eminently repeatable performances. In fact, for musical value and price, you can't really do better than this in this repertoire. Definitely recommended.

--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

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This is a perfect introduction to the choral music of Charles Hubert Hastings Parry. The repertoire covers his three most popular choral works alongside three great works that are typically known to Parry enthusiasts and those who inhabit the organ loft or choir stalls: the two groups are not mutually exclusive. I did a little survey: I asked five people (not British Music fans) to name a piece of music by Parry. Only one was able to suggest Jerusalem, but added that it might have been by Elgar ... The other four, unsurprisingly, had heard of this great hymn, but the composer remained a blank spot.

The CD gets off to a great start with the anthem I was glad. It was originally written for the Coronation of Edward VII and was also performed at the Service for George VI and the present Queen. Manchester Cathedral Choir cope well with this powerful music and the organ is heard to impressive effect. As is traditional, the acclamations of 'Vivat Rex' or 'Regina' are omitted in this recording. One wonders if this anthem will be used at subsequent Coronations (long, long may that be in the future) or whether something more egalitarian and balanced towards 'world music' will be the order of the day?

The Great Service in D major is a fine piece of choral music that can be used in both a liturgical or concert setting. At nearly nine minutes the Magnificat may be a little long for St Swithun's Parish Church Evensong, but in Cathedrals this would be an acceptable length. Both parts of the Canticles reveal a confident composer who is totally at home in the world of Anglican Church music. The service was written in 1881 for Trinity College Cambridge, however it was not published until 1984. This is a great setting that is a million miles away from the popular view that Victorian church music was over-sentimental and stodgy.

The Songs of Farewell are quite simply stunning. This is a major work that explores feelings about the transience of life and involves much reflection by the composer back across the years of his musical achievement. Parry stated that, at seventy years of age, he had reached 'the last milestone.' It would be a project worthy of a dissertation or a thesis to explore the composer's religious sensibilities at this time in his life. He was not a conventionally Christian believer and would have seen the texts in a personal context rather than liturgical. Yet each of these motets is deeply moving and invariably inspiring.

I guess that many habitués of cathedral and parish churches will know the opening My Soul, there is a country - a fine setting of Henry Vaughan's fundamentally optimistic words. Yet the remaining five motets are less often performed and less well known. The composer provides considerable interest in these subsequent motets by use of varying number of parts and a fine balance of a fundamentally harmonic language over against more complex but never 'academic' contrapuntal workings.

Perhaps the mood of the entire collection is best summed up by the last motet Lord, let me know mine end. The last words of this psalm ask God to 'O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength before I go hence and be no more seen'. Hardly the thoughts of a confident evangelical who 'knew' that he was going to join the saints in glory but more those of a deep-seated agnostic.

For me the most beautiful work on this CD is Hear my words, ye people. It is a compendium of texts taken from the Old Testament books of Job, Isaiah and the Psalms. The work was originally composed for the 1894 Festival of the Salisbury Diocesan Choral Association. Unbelievably, it was conceived for 2000 singers with a semi-chorus of some 400! There was an organ accompaniment and brass band present the first performance. The choral music part was kept relatively simple, as there was little time for rehearsal. The more complex music was given to the soprano and baritone soloists. In this recording the baritone part is sung by Mark Rowlinson: the other solo parts are taken by groups of choristers. The work concludes with the well-known hymn O Praise ye the Lord, which was a paraphrase of Psalm 150 by Sir Henry Baker. Something tells me that this 'pared-down' version is actually more effective and satisfying than the original. It is a truly gorgeous work that ought to have a secure place in the repertoire.

The penultimate piece is from the oratorio Judith. Many folk will know the hymn-tune Repton, which accompanies the words Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, without realising the source of the text and the music. Judith was a highly successful oratorio, which was first performed in 1888. The words are from a poem entitled The Brewing of Soma by the American Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier. It is given here with great variety of dynamics and constant attention to the meaning of the words.

Jerusalem is the last piece on this CD. Naturally, it is in Parry's incarnation - with organ accompaniment rather than the gorgeous, but manifestly overblown Elgarian version. No matter how many times I hear this work I cannot help feeling that it is one of the finest hymns ever composed on Earth or in Heaven. For the record it was written during the Great War at the suggestion of Robert Bridges and Walford Davies for a 'Fight for Right' meeting at the Queen's Hall in London.

The quality of the recording is superb, the programmes notes by Keith Anderson are suitably informative and the texts of all the works are provided. The cover picture is entitled 'Beach Sunset' and presumably alludes to the 'Country beyond the Stars'. Yet it has a definite feel of Morecambe Bay about it.  
The obvious comparison for this CD is the Hyperion recording of the Choir of St George's Chapel of Windsor conducted by Christopher Robinson. This was - and still is - an essential disc for all Parry enthusiasts and received excellent reviews. However, I have always had a soft spot for Manchester Cathedral: my father's family were from Lancashire and looked towards this great City for work, worship and pleasure. I first visited cathedral in the early seventies, and have enjoyed musical events and services there on an occasional basis over the years. This present recording is a fine monument to a great musical and ecclesiastical tradition. It will be an essential addition to many collections.

John France, MusicWeb International

Recording information: Alsion Concert Hall, Sonderborg, Denmark (12/18/2007-12/21/2007).

Having admirably survived Bax's discursive piano sonatas, Ashley Wass devotes all of his third volume of this composer's piano works to relatively smaller-scaled fare. Actually, the opening selection, What the Minstrel Told Us, times out to 11 minutes. The outer sections feature a bardic melody gently supported by slow moving, impressionistic chords and arpeggiated figures, while a middle section develops this material more agitatedly. Wass summons up all the tone color and sustaining power needed to convey the orchestral sensibility of the piano writing.


He plays the nocturne-like Princess's Rose Garden a bit straighter than Eric Parkin's more garishly-voiced Chandos recording, yet he shapes the chromatic motives with plenty of affection. By contrast, Wass doesn't clarify A Hill Tune's left-hand melodic content and right-hand accompaniment to Parkin's more fluid distinction. However, he scores with more rhythmic snap in the Spanish-tinged Mediterranean and renders the Gopak steadier, sharper, yet slightly slower in contrast to Parkin's brisker, looser approach. In short, collectors who've enjoyed Wass' previous Bax discs also will find this well-recorded, superbly annotated release to their liking. I look forward to this cycle's fourth and final volume.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

As I've noted in previous reviews, the nature of the keyboard writing in Liszt's massive organ fantasy and fugue based on the chorale Ad nos, ad salutarem undam from Meyerbeer's Le Prophete lends itself well to the piano. Although Liszt himself made an effective piano duet arrangement, Busoni's two-handed piano version can stand toe-to-toe with Liszt's B minor sonata as a virtuoso showpiece. That is, if you have the right pianist.

By and large, Wolf Harden is up to the task. He effortlessly navigates the outer sections' technical difficulties and stamina-testing textures, and sensitively sustains the central lyrical movement. Perhaps the latter emerges with more austere transparency in Hamish Milne's Hyperion studio recording, while the formidable fugue benefits from Giovanni Belluci's greater animation and dramatic sweep in an out-of-print recording on the small Assai label. And perhaps you could imagine more incisive and assertive interpretations of the weak "fake Brahms" F minor sonata Busoni wrote as a teenager and of the composer's late, bitonally obsessed Prélude et etude arpèges. However, this is definitely worth it for "Ad nod" and for Richard Whitehouse's extensive, highly informative booklet notes.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

For a less caustic, more ample-toned, and softer-edged set of Shostakovich Op. 34 Preludes than we usually hear, check out Konstantin Scherbakov. His performances contain many beautiful things. No. 2's whimsical scales and runs magically glide over the bar lines, while No. 9 and No. 12's whirling patterns are impressively controlled and supple--and the pianist articulates the marcato/legato interplay in No. 11 and No. 21 to perfection.


My criticism concerns Scherbakov's arch rubato within certain lyrical pieces. His little holdbacks and gratuitous ritards in No. 8, for example, undermine the effect of the composer's indicated ritards, which the pianist barely observes anyway. And a few exposed wrong notes easily could have been corrected (the E-flat in No. 5, measure 14). Such blemishes, however, do not detract from Scherbakov's compelling pianism.


All the virtues Scherbakov brings to the Preludes equally apply to the composer's gnarly Aphorisms cycle and youthful Three Fantastic Dances. The pianist also sails through the First Sonata's unrelenting polytextural thickets and age-of-steel dissonances with maximum power and minimum struggle. Eleanor Thomason's superb engineering yields one of the finest sounding solo piano discs Naxos has produced.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Includes work(s) by Boris Tchaikovsky. Ensembles: Volgograd Philharmonic Orchestra, Saratov Conservatory Symphony Orchestra. Conductors: Eduard Serov, Kirill Ershov.

The first German artist to win the international Naumburg Violin Award in New York, Axel Strauss was acclaimed for his recording of Mendelssohn' Songs Without Words as 'an excellent violinist who plays these with wit and verve'.

Light—life-enabling, life-enhancing. Something fundamental, universal in our life. Images evoking it abound in language, and virtually all the authors of the texts set here deal with or refer to it in one way or another, from ancient seers to the modern luminary Desmond Tutu.

There are of course many different kinds of light, but on its own the single word evokes something bright, pure, clear. These are words which can equally well be applied to James Whitbourn’s music. His writing is simple and straightforward (especially harmonically), and not outwardly virtuosic; his use of texture (often under-appreciated as a musical value) is also simple, but beguiling. The choir often sings homophonically (all voice parts moving in the same rhythm, as in a hymn), which implies a clarity of communication. But with a few sure strokes—the addition of a single element, such as the solo voice in the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis, and A Prayer of Desmond Tutu, or the use of percussion in the same works, or the tanpura and the cunningly Eastern-sounding viola in Luminosity, he can simultaneously evoke different, non-Western traditions, and thereby multiply the allusions.

-- Bernard Robertson

Includes work(s) by Miklós Rózsa. Soloists: Philippe Quint, William Wolfram.

After Things to Come, his most famous film score, Arthur Bliss composed the soundtrack scores of CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS and MEN OF TWO WORLDS, two dramatic pictures which are largely forgotten today. Their music, however, enlivened by Spanish and African rhythms respectively, is colourful and interesting enough to be revived in the form of concert suites. Men of Two Worlds contains BARAZA, a miniature concert piece for piano and orchestra (like Addinsell’s “Warsaw Concerto” from Dangerous Moonlight, Bax’s Oliver Twist, Rózsa’s Spellbound and Herrmann’s “Concerto Macabre” from Hangover Square), with additional male choir. The three orchestral pieces from SEVEN WAVES AWAY are another real discovery and if anything even more deserving of concert performances than the two earlier scores.

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