Liszt Complete Piano Music, Vol. 19: Beethoven Symphonies No

The importance of Mieczysław Weinberg’s 24 Preludes for solo cello, written for Rostropovich, lies beyond their superficial resemblance to Bach’s Well-tempered Clavier or the piano preludes of Chopin or Weinberg’s colleague Shostakovich. Instead, it resides in Weinberg’s remarkable ability to write for solo cello with almost limitless imagination, using myriad musical styles and varied techniques. These fascinating qualities are also to be found in his more expansively lyrical Sonata, a masterfully written outpouring of deep emotions. Latvian-born cellist Josef Feigelson has enjoyed a solo career spanning over three decades and champions neglected cello repertoire.

Granados, E.: Piano Music, Vol. 6 - Enchanted Palace in the

Studies in Rome equipped Francisco Ant�nio de Almeida for high musical standing at the court of the Portuguese King, Jo�o V. Here he wrote a series of admired operas but also embarked on serenades', court spectacles of a more private nature. Il Trionfo d'Amore, a scherzo pastoral, was written to celebrate the King's name-day. Ranging from intimacy to ceremonial splendor, with several sublime arias, not least the beautiful In queste lacrime, as well as dramatic passages, it reveals de Almeida to be one of the outstanding Portuguese composers of the eighteenth century.

The best of Eternal Guitar accompanied by Camerata Cassovia Orchestra under the direction of Johannes Wildner and Peter Breiner bring such classics as Vivaldi's Lute Concerto in D Major, RV 93: II. Largo (arr. G. Garcia for guitar and orchestra) and Bach's Concerto in D Minor, BWV 974 (after the Oboe Concerto by A. Marcello): III. Presto (arr. E. Voorhorst for guitar) to life.

Douglas Lilburn wrote relatively little orchestral music. Aside from the three symphonies (also on Naxos, very well played by this same orchestra) this disc about does it. Much of the music dates from early in his career and accordingly shows a variety of influences: Vaughan Williams (Lilburn's teacher), Copland in A Birthday Offering (1956), and above all Sibelius, particularly in Forest (1936) and A Song of the Islands (1946). These were all good models, but at the same time Lilburn had an individual voice, even if its elements are difficult to pin down because of the pace at which he developed from a home-grown, New Zealand branch of the English pastoral school to the much spikier idiom of the Third Symphony and (on the way there) A Birthday Offering.


Indeed, by the early 1960s Lilburn gave up working in traditional media and concentrated his attention on experiments in electro-acoustic music, which means that he effectively dropped off the map. Listening to the attractive works on this disc, from the Aotearoa Overture (his most famous piece) to the lovely tone poems, you can't help but regret his decision, however personally motivated and necessary it may have been for him. In any case we still have this rousing, very well executed, finely recorded disc to enjoy, in which Lilburn's home-town team under the baton of the ever-reliable James Judd does him proud. An easy recommendation.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Edmund Rubbra (1901?1986) waited a long time for the recognition that was his due. Although he found his voice and manner by the late 1930s, securing occasional performances and radio broadcasts of quality, it wasn?t until the 1970s that many of his symphonies achieved their premieres on LP?and the first recorded edition of his 11 symphonies had to wait until 2001. Many reasons have been attested for this neglect over the years, but the most convincing argument I?ve read is that he was too complex and ?un-English? for the old guard, while remaining far too conservative tonally and structurally for the Young Turks of the period.


Rubbra?s style certainly would fit into this uneasy zone that lay outside the accepted boundaries of the conventional and the conventionally unconventional. There is a curious amalgam in his compositions of Sibelian transformative development with complex, linear textures, and vocally inflected thematic lines that derive from Renaissance polyphony. Even more than Vaughan Williams, Rubbra frequently envisioned his more ambitious works as reactions to a moral battleground; and the length of his religious convictions can be taken by noting his conversion to Roman Catholicism in 1948. But although Rubbra used a musical language that was determinedly consonant and tonal, it didn?t possess any of the trappings of the folk nationalist school. When members of the avant-garde were latching onto the latest techniques to prove their individuality, Rubbra made good, traditional music, yet sounded like no one at any time save himself.


The Violin Concerto of 1959 is an excellent example of this. The allegro ?s uneasy thematic line is characteristic, as is its grave sweetness, delicate orchestration, and propulsive rhythms. The slow movement is among the most beautiful things ever penned by this composer who had little regard for surface beauty?an intensely meditative study that ranges between serenity and lyrical exaltation. As for the allegro giacoso that rounds off this work, extroverted finales were never that difficult for Rubbra. Unlike Lloyd and Finzi, he never sought to conclude anything composed in a serious manner and elegiac tone with a forced ?jolly celebration.? His finale here is on the minor side of several modes, but with bounding rhythms and brief, figurative allusions to folk drones (so very much like Rubbra?s favorite symphonic pedal points). The effect is not unlike Baroque dances in minor keys, exhilarating and with a twinkle in the eye that belies the grim set of the mouth.


The Improvisation for Violin and Orchestra was originally a Fantasia composed in the mid 1930s, then substantially recomposed in 1956 for a commission by the Louisville Orchestra. The lengthy, plaintive solo for violin with only occasional ominous rumblings from the timpani set the basic tone for the piece, whose ruminations cover the ground from self-lacerating doubt to momentary epiphany. Like the Violin Concerto?s slow movement, this Improvisation is a seemingly spontaneous but carefully wrought work.


The third composition on the program represents a departure, not only from the rest of the album, but from most of the composer?s ?uvre . I first encountered the Improvisation on Virginal Pieces by Giles Farnaby 30 years ago on a British RCA LP, where Rubbra wrote that a lighthearted piece was sought by Universal Edition to offset the cost of engraving and printing his First Symphony. (The LP was part of a series underwritten by Harveys of Bristol, manufacturers of Harveys Bristol Cream. Anyone want to suggest to Peter Coors that he sponsor a new recorded series of the works of William Schuman?) The result was this work, wherein Rubbra re-orchestrated and lightly but amusingly retouched five of Farnaby?s delightfully folk-inflected keyboard pieces. It?s a charmer.


Yuasa takes a relaxed but firm hand to all three pieces; too relaxed, perhaps, in the Violin Concerto?s opening movement, compared to a now-deleted Unicorn LP that featured David Measham leading the Melbourne SO, with soloist Carl Pini. I?ve never enjoyed Pini?s acidulous if bracing tone, but that same movement took roughly two minutes less on that release, and gained in the process. Elsewhere, Yuasa articulates the many lines of the finale so well that he conveys a sense of blithe activity without great speed. The slow movement and the Improvisation for Violin and Orchestra benefit from his considered approach. Osostowicz displays a warm tone, seamless legato, strong technique, and commanding personality. The Farnaby pieces could use more energy, but focus is never lacking, and Schönzeler did worse on my old LP. The Ulster Orchestra is bright, rich, and well blended, but that?s hardly news.


Sound is forward and effectively balanced, while Malcolm MacDonald supplies attractive liner notes. The timings are a bit slim, but with performances and music such as we find here, offered at a budget price, who can complain? Definitely recommended.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

MOZART Divertimenti: No. 11 in D, K 251; No. 17 in D, K 334 • Helmut Müller-Brühl, cond; Cologne CO • NAXOS 8.570990 (73:49)

Helmut Müller-Brühl remained active until shortly before his death in January 2012. These Mozart divertimenti, recorded in mid-September 2011 may well be the last recordings he made. His legacy—mainly in baroque and early classical repertoire, from the days of LP on Nonesuch and, if I’m not mistaken, on Turnabout and the Musical Heritage Society, all the way up to practically the present day, primarily on Naxos—is a long and distinguished one. Yet for all his many fine recordings of composers who were near contemporaries of Mozart, such as the two Haydns, Josef and Michael, Franz Anton Hoffmeister, and Ignace Pleyel, Müller-Brühl seems not to have committed much Mozart to disc. That makes this new Naxos release of the conductor leading two of Mozart’s divertimenti especially welcome.

As a musical genre, the divertimento is but one member in a family of interbreeds that included the serenade, cassation, and notturno. All shared a common origin and purpose in music that was intended to entertain guests and lubricate the gossip at various social gatherings and functions. A modern-day equivalent might be the string quartet hired to play in the background at a garden party. Everyone hears it and knows it’s there, but no one really listens or pays much attention to it. The serenade was typically performed outdoors. The notturno, as its name implies, was an after-dinner evening piece, possibly played on a balcony or veranda. The meaning of cassation is unclear, but Mozart often referred to his divertimenti as such, the term, possibly being derived from the German, Gasse , and suggesting street or alley music.

There was no fixed form or number of movements to any of these pieces, but in the hands of Mozart, not only did some of his serenades and divertimenti take on a much more serious tone, they rendered the distinctions between these composition types even more meaningless than they already were. You have, for example, Mozart’s great Divertimento in E?-Major for violin, viola, and cello, K 563, which, if not for the fact that it’s in six movements, would probably have been cataloged as a string trio. Then there’s the Serenata notturna , K 239, a work in three movements for double string orchestra and timpani, which seems to elude classification and which may be why Mozart’s father, Leopold, put this hybrid title to the manuscript. In order of composition, Mozart’s next serenade is the “Haffner,” K 250, a big, celebratory score in eight movements, written for his sister’s prenuptial festivities. Three of its movements feature a violin soloist, partially lending the work the feeling of a concerto. And then, of course, there’s the serious side of Mozart’s serenading, the “Gran Partita” Serenade, K 361/370a, a score in seven movements for 12 wind instruments plus string bass.

Gradually, it seems that both serenade and divertimento more or less merged into an entity that settled on six movements containing two minuets and, in many cases, an opening march that was reprised in the concluding movement. The musical content, however, still varied widely from light, even frivolous, entertainment fare to weightier, more serious matter.

The two divertimentos on this disc both exhibit the above-mentioned six-movement layout with two minuets, but K 251 is of the lighter, amusement type, containing a rondeau movement and ending with a march. And while it’s hardly a trifle at nearly 26 minutes in length, it’s dwarfed by the more serious-minded K 334, which is almost twice as long at 48 minutes and much more thoroughly worked out. The contrasts in length, placement of movements, and musical content between these two works are evidence of how loosely—or freely, if you prefer—these types of compositions were titled and categorized.

Apart from the later Musical Joke , K 522, and the previously mentioned String Trio, K 563, the D-Major Divertimento, K 334, of 1779–1780 is the last of Mozart’s scores to bear the title “Divertimento.” It’s also the most extended and formally developed. Yet surprisingly, perhaps, is that it’s more modest in terms of orchestral scoring than the earlier D-Major Divertimento on the disc, calling for only two horns and strings. K 251, dated 1776, adds an oboe to the ensemble.

Helmut Müller-Brühl and the Cologne Chamber Orchestra were made to play this music. Not even the most steadfast devotee of period-instrument performance could fail to be delighted by these performances. The Allegro s bubble and bustle with high spirits, while the slower movements capture the music’s sweetness, charm, and grace without surrendering to cloying sentimentality.

While Müller-Brühl may not have been one of the earliest pioneers in the historical performance movement, not all readers may know that for 10 years, from 1976 to 1986, the Cologne Chamber Orchestra he led also played and recorded on period instruments under the name Capella Clementina, and thus, both conductor and orchestra members gained inestimable experience in period practice which they applied to their post-1986 performances on modern instruments. This recording is a fruit of that familiarity with and understanding of Classical period performance practice and style.

Recent recordings of these works on modern instruments are not plentiful. In fact, unless one goes back to the mid 1980s and to Marriner’s five-disc Philips collection of the divertimenti with the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, or to the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra’s four-disc Deutsche Grammophon serenades and divertimenti collection, which doesn’t include K 334, there aren’t that many more recent modern instrument versions to choose from. No matter; for these performances by Müller-Brühl and the Cologne Chamber Orchestra are spot-on, and at Naxos’s budget price, practically a steal. Very strongly recommended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

These three Catalan piano trios reveal illuminating facets of each composer. Roberto Gerhard�s early trio exudes a distinctly French ethos, alongside that of de Falla, very different from his later asperity. Xavier Montsalvatge�s much later work, written between 1986 and 1988, owes its origin to disparate sources but forms an impressive whole, and is lyrical, expressive, sensual and dance-like in turn. Admired as a cellist, Gaspar Cassad� composed a brilliantly virtuoso trio, influenced by earlier Spanish models, but revealing great panache and considerable demands via guitar imitations, Malague�a rhythms and lashings of folkloric brio.

Armenia' greatest composer Aram Khachaturian received both acclaim and criticism from the Soviet regime, including the USSR State Prize for his three Concerto-Rhapsodies. "A concerto is music with chandeliers burning bright; a rhapsody is music with.

The first cantata is about a rose - a symbol of love - which is spurned by Nysa and Chloris. The fourth cantata marks a turning point, which could well be the reason Ariosti scored the next three cantatas for alto. The title expresses it's content: 'Freedom acquired through love'. In the fifth cantata another image is used to depict the breakdown of love: a shipwreck. The first aria describes a storm at sea, with crashing waves, thunder and the absence of sunshine. The last cantata marks the return to the beginning: the protagonist has not really overcome his love for Nysa. Otherwise he would not feel that she, "who faithlessly seeks her delight in the arms of another, is the cause of my bitterness and misery". These cantatas make one understand that Ariosti was successful as a composer of operas; there is plenty of drama here. Not only the vocal parts but the instrumental parts as well depict the feelings expressed in the texts. It is impressive how the two melody instruments - originally two violins, here flute and violin - and the basso continuo illustrate the storm at sea in the first aria of Cantata No. 5. They also perfectly express the unhappy lover's feelings in his lament in Cantata No. 3.

Liszt Complete Piano Music, Vol. 23: Beethoven Symphonies No

Includes work(s) for pno by Frank Bridge. Soloist: Ashley Wass.

KOECHLIN Les Heures persanes • Ralph van Raat (pn) • NAXOS 8572473 (56:44)


Neither composer Charles Koechlin nor his masterpiece, translated as The Persian Hours, is nearly as well known or popular as Granados’s Goyescas or Albéniz’s Iberia, let alone the music of Debussy, so they have fallen into the category of musical oddities. (Other recordings include Kathryn Stott on Chandos 9974 and Michael Korstick on Hänssler 93246, also an orchestral version by Heinz Holliger and the Stuttgart Radio Orchestra on Hänssler 93125.) Part of the problem is that nearly all of the pieces in the suite are slow-moving, meaning that the pianist (or conductor in an orchestral version) needs to sustain not only the proper mood but also a semblance of forward momentum.


Enter pianist Ralph van Raat to the rescue. His recording of the suite, albeit slow-moving (slower, in fact, than Holliger’s orchestral recording), has such tremendous atmosphere and a sense of presence that one is seduced into Koechlin’s world and his own interpretation within the first three minutes of the recording.


Koechlin’s view of Persia (now Iran) was based on astronomical observations and a travelogue of the time rather than a first-hand trip to the area. Thus he captured a personal impression of Middle Eastern life, particularly nightlife when the stars were out and the world was still. Harmonically, he was at least as advanced as late-period Debussy, if not actually further along. Although most of these pieces tend toward a harmonically identifiable key, they skew away from it constantly; by the middle of each piece, the unobservant listener will be completely lost in regards to a harmonic base or balance. Some of them have an ostinato bass in one key, but the overlying music is in another. Indeed, it is this constant leaning away from any tonality—and the fact that the music sometimes leans in both directions at once—that gives it its unique flavor. Koechlin somehow manages to set up what sounds like a safe base but gently yet constantly pushes us away from it.


Raat’s performance, as already mentioned, is both musical and fascinating in the extreme. I do, however, question the very long pauses between each piece in the suite. After about the first 10 numbers, you’re not quite sure if each succeeding piece is the last one or not, but that’s probably a post-production decision. If you love this kind of music, this is a CD you simply cannot live without.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

A fascinating selection of Martinu's early piano works, plus two late trifles

In his classic biography of Martinu (Allen Wingate: 1962), Milos Šafránek states that in “the large and varied assortment of youthful works and experiments, Puppets holds a singular and significant place”. Composed in three sets between 1912 and 1924 (but published in reverse sequence; they are played here in chronological order), Puppets sounds anything but experimental now, though for Martinu’s hometown of Policka just after the Great War, the somewhat Satiesque charms of these 14 pieces must have seemed highly modern.

Heard with the innocent ear, most listeners would be hard put to identify the composer of Puppets and I suspect the same applies for another of the novelties here, the pretty, if flimsy, children’s suite Spring in the Garden (1920). This is no match for what Mark Gresham calls “the bold, jazzy and propulsive” Film en miniature (1925), one of the first products of Martinu’s Paris sojourn. The pearl of Koukl’s programme, though, is Butterflies and Birds of Paradise, written at Christmas of the same year as Spring in the Garden but light years ahead of it in quality. Here Martinu uses impressionism as if born to it.

Still, none of these early pieces, nor even The Fifth Day of the Fifth Moon (1948, dedicated to Tcherepnin’s wife and the only work otherwise available) really sound like the mature Martinu. Only in the 29th and final track, The Booksellers of the Quai Malaquais (1948; dedicated to the composer’s wife) do we encounter one of those heart-stopping themes familiar from the symphonies. Koukl’s performances, occasionally a little over-robust, as in Butterflies, are very warmly recorded but this is a splendid disc despite that. Recommended.

-- Guy Rickards, Gramophone [5/2007]

Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco considered the 1924 Concerto Italiano to be his first truly symphonic venture. This tuneful, fresh and transparently scored concerto here receives its world première recording. It was admired by the great violinist Jascha Heifetz, for whom the composer wrote his Concerto No. 2 ‘I Profeti’ (The Prophets), an impassioned work ‘of biblical character and inspiration’ with an almost cinematic sweep. The recipient of the coveted Echo Klassik award for her album of Mendelssohn’s two Violin Concertos [8.572662], Tianwa Yang is widely recognized as one of the outstanding rising stars on the world classical music scene.

REVIEWS:

This recording of Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s early (1924) Concerto Italiano purports to be a world premiere, and while you can never really tell these days, this is certainly the first time that I have seen the work on disc. It’s very enjoyable, and very Italian–in a good way. The thematic material has character, even in the long opening Allegro moderato e maestoso, while the central Arioso sets the seal on the music’s Italianate lyricism. Yang plays the work very confidently; she has no technical limitations at all, and she captures the warmth of those romantic tunes with unfailing aplomb. Certainly she deserves credit for learning a big, unfamiliar piece that she’ll probably never be asked to play in concert.

The Concerto Italiano also makes ideal sense as the coupling to the slightly better known Violin Concerto No. 2 “I Profeti” (“The Prophets”). Composed in 1931, it was taken up by Heifetz, no less, who made a stunning recording that has popped up in various incarnations (coupled to the Walton Concerto on Naxos Historical). The modern reference version has been Perlman’s hard to find outing with Mehta and the Israel Philharmonic on EMI, in tandem with Ben-Haim’s Violin Concerto. The piece is interesting in that it really does sound like a (good) soundtrack to a Hollywood bible epic, although it predates both the genre and the composer’s American period by more than half a decade. If you like, say, Respighi’s exotic tone poems or Bloch’s Schelomo, then you’ll enjoy this well-wrought and colorful work similarly.

Again, Tianwa Yang plays with unflagging gusto and, in music that can turn kitschy, taste. Now is usually the time we get to say something condescending, like “She’s no Heifetz, or Perlman,” but the truth is that she doesn’t suffer at all from the comparison. She’s an excellent artist, one whose musicality and passion speak for themselves, and she can hold her own against anyone. The only caveat stems from the proficient but somewhat too polite accompaniments provided by the SWR ensemble under Pieter-Jelle de Boer, as well as the less than glittering sonics. Not bad, mind you, and probably as good as we have right to expect for such rare repertoire, but it could have been better still. If you don’t know this music, you should hear this.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The Concerto Italiano is not the breezy, pseudo-Victorian piece that its title might suggest; indeed, it is rather a melancholic work. I profeti is a rather more lively and colorful work, its glittering, singing lines certainly bring a resonant response both from soloist Tianwa Yang and the SWR Symphony Orchestra.

-- Gramophone

Well researched and very well performed.

These aren’t new recordings; they’ve migrated from Marco Polo to Naxos’s Film Music Classics series and fit snugly in that marque. Honegger was one of the most resourceful and successful of film composers and his scores seldom disappoint; these ones never do.

We start with the first suite of Regain, a film made in 1937 by Marcel Pagnol on a Provençal theme. The striving and hardship of the landscape are strongly evoked and though there’s a rather deceptively ‘English’ march tune in there the inflexions are otherwise Honegger’s own. Brass writing emphasises the rawness of landscape, of terrain, of the daily grind, and the saxophone in the second cut, Hiver, facilitates subtle and evocative tone painting. But it’s not all grim – the whistling insouciance of Gedemus le remouleur proves a minute’s worth of scherzo high spirits along with some imaginative and unabashed instrumentation – rattles prominently.

Crime et Châtiment – Crime and Punishment to give it its English title – provides opportunities for a character study, not least of Raskolnikov the murderer. Honegger abjures the lurid though, preferring a far more subtle schema altogether. The wistful and lyrical answering themes of Raskolnikov and the prostitute Sonia suggest directions that are soon to be thwarted. The longest track is devoted to the murder. Powerful and dramatic it sports a throbbing, pulsing theme, a musical migraine of the most disabling kind. The killing itself is represented by a brief slashing figure – pre Bernard Herrmann – whilst the terse figures of the final cut, the Visite nocturne with bass clarinet and piano, leads to a rather Russian-Semitic tune.

The two symphonic movements from Le Démon de l’Himalaya are fascinatingly orchestrated; no horns but two saxophones and the Ondes Martenots, harp, percussion and wordless chorus. The first movement is a terse sustained ostinato, gust swirling build ups of great tensile intensity finally dissipated through the most unusual orchestration. The second movement is a solemn Passacaglia – and there are hints of Milhaud and Weill. Things get decidedly spooky before the chorus, before the uplift that it brings and the resolution that is afforded. Altogether fascinating evidence of Honegger’s forward thinking imagination and ear for colour.

L’Idée again features the Ondes Martenots and perky piano figures. It’s a lighter, droller score than its companions. There’s some saturnine sounding Weill influence once more though with less canine bite; some of the piano and brass writing sounds similar to the kinds of thing Martin? and Milhaud were writing at around the same time. The big powerful march theme is exciting on its own merits however. It’s an engaging way to end a thoroughly researched, intelligently annotated and very well performed disc.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

Of Ukrainian origin, Boris Pigovat (b. 1953) is now based in Israel where he has won several distinguished national awards. His Holocaust Requiem received the ACUM (Israeli ASCAP) prize in 1995, and was premi�red at a concert dedicated to the massacre of Jews at Babi Yar. Each movement is named after the Latin Mass text, the emotional symbols of sorrow, suffering and hope expressed purely instrumentally but led by the 'human' voice of the viola. The deliberately Russian Romantic style of Poem of Dawn was especially chosen by the composer for the work's dedicatee, acclaimed violist Anna Serova. "I'm sure that the Holocaust Requiem has a great future. Boris Pigovat's composition is very sophisticated, but it isn't flowery or pretentious. It is simple but not primitive, it is frank and heartfelt, an outstanding work." ('The Day' - Ukrainian daily newspaper)

For those of us who have learnt to play the piano over the last half century the name of Alec Rowley will be extremely familiar. Even today when I visit the secondhand music shops in Kelvinside and Fishergate in Glasgow and York, I am amazed at the number of volumes of this composer that are always available. I have managed to build a small collection of his easier pieces. I doubt that there is much in print these days, but historically there are reams of miniatures and teaching pieces available to the interested explorer and collector. I did not realise until quite recently that Mr Rowley did have a serious side to him - that is until I inherited an album of organ works. None of these are for neophytes and all of them seem to be interesting examples of the ’tween-the-wars genre. However I will always remember him for two salon pieces – Witchery and Hornpipe – both for piano. I still play these at least once a month!

I have long known about the Concerto in D major and have plonked my way through the score. However, until this present release I had never heard it. And what a pleasure it is. I will state my case – I love the work – it is a fine discovery and deserves its place in the repertoire.

The work received its premiere in a BBC broadcast way back in 1938. The work is scored for soloist and strings; however there are optional parts for timpani and percussion. This is the version recorded here. From the very first note we are in the presence of a delightful work. Forget anyone who says that it relies heavily on Delius or Britten or Cyril Scott. This is an original concerto that is well scored and has ‘a breezy, open-air freshness about it’ that is both charming and satisfying. The work is well constructed, with the opening of the last movement mirroring the introduction to the first. My only criticism is that this concerto is too short! But Naxos and Mr Donohoe please note, there is another Piano Concerto and Three Idylls for Piano and Orchestra just begging to be recorded!

Christian Darnton is an unknown quantity to me and I imagine for many other listeners as well. However the Piano Concerto in C Major is a fine example of the genre. It was composed in 1948 for the South African pianist Adolf Hallis. In fact the work was premiered in Durban the following year.

It is quite a short work and this is perhaps its one fault. There seems to be a little bit of a stylistic imbalance between quite ‘elegant’ and sometimes even ‘dreamy’ music and the harder edged neo-classicism of Stravinsky. For example the first movement vacillates between these two contrasting styles and the disparity is too great for good balance. That being said there is much that is attractive about this work. Once again the contrasts in the middle movement are quite extreme. There is a whiff of Britten about the outer sections whilst the middle section nods to the Warsaw Concerto in its ‘heart on sleeve’ romanticism.

The finale is a good example of neo-classical fun. There are moments when Malcolm Arnold seems about to break through. However the entire movement is well wrought and is quite exciting.

I reiterate my comment that this work is far too short. There is a wealth of interesting material that could have been developed into a major work.

However, I do hope that Naxos will issue some more music by this obviously talented composer, for example any one of the four symphonies.

The Roberto Gerhard Concerto for Piano and Strings is the antithesis of the Darnton. It is slightly later, having been composed in 1951 (the CD cover states 1961 as the date of composition) for the Aldeburgh Festival. It is the first of Gerhard’s works to be written using serial techniques. Yet continuity with the past is introduced as the composer gives a renaissance musical title to each movement. The first being Tiento which is Spanish for ‘toccata,’ the second is Diferencias which is loosely translated as ‘variations’ and the last movement is inscribed Folias which means ‘fantasy.’

Gerhard uses the serial technique with subtlety. We are never conscious that the work is being controlled by a pre-defined sequence of notes. However its unity is never in doubt. This is an extremely well-balanced and nuanced piece that is totally consistent with itself from the very first note to the last. Harmonically there is none of the astringency of Webern and his followers; in fact it is difficult to pin the concerto down to a style or period. This is quite definitely a work that is infused with the moods of Spain. However do not look for Spanish Dances – the ethos is derived from darker aspects of Iberian culture.

There are two things to say about Howard Ferguson. Firstly, he wrote too little! It is always a great disappointment to me that Ferguson gave up composing in the early 1950s; he reckoned that he had said all he wanted to say! Of course the listener’s loss is the student and performer’s gain as most of the rest of his life was spent in editing early music and teaching material. The second thing is that every piece that Ferguson wrote is near perfect and commands our attention. There is nothing that does not deserve to be permanently in the repertoire.

The Piano Concerto is a case in point. I have no doubt that if this work was by a Polish or German composer it would be in the public domain. As it stands I imagine that it is well known to a handful of British music enthusiasts. Yet what a great and wonderful work it is. It is not really necessary to try making comparisons. I do not agree with Andrew Burn’s notes that it nods to Mozart. What we have is a beautifully composed piece that throws introspection and an extrovert, almost ‘puckish’ feel into contrast, yet manages to give a satisfying sense of completeness. Of course the heart of the work is the reflective ‘Theme and Variations’ – this movement is quite bitter-sweet and stays in the mind long after the last note plays. The last movement, an Allegro giovale, is a tour de force. However there are some quieter, more introverted moments and there is a reprise of the slow movement ‘tune’ towards the end. But this is positive, uplifting music that is a joy and pleasure and a privilege to listen to.

The sound quality is great. The playing is second to none. The programme notes could have been a bit more fulsome. The programme itself is well thought out and repays repeated hearings. All credit must go to Peter Donohoe and his British Piano Concerto Foundation.

Now a personal plea. Mr Donohoe, if you read this please can you consider one or two or more of the following for your next batch of releases in this great series – the piano concertos by William Baines, York Bowen, Rosalind Ellicott and Walford Davies. But whatever you choose please keep them coming and concentrate on those works that are not otherwise available!

-- John France, MusicWeb International

Click Here for the complete Naxos Film Music Classic Series

Volume 2 of 4 of Helmut Walcha's complete chorale preludes, authoritatively performed by one of the composer's most renowned students, Wolfgang R�bsam.

Dohnányi’s powerful Second Symphony was composed toward the end of the Second World War but its large canvas reflects not so much his wartime experience as his own artistic credo as a Romantic composer. +Of the symphony and its philosophy he wrote: “The goal is the end of the glorious fight. The goal is death; life is a struggle”, and in it he crafted a passionate monument to the Romanticism he espoused, heard here in its final revised version. +The two songs for baritone and orchestra have been very rarely heard, and were revived by Alexander Jiménez with the Florida State University Symphony Orchestra in 2013.

"At his best, Rheinberger offers a surprising and often telling synthesis of Baroque counterpoint with a gently Romantic sensibility. One could say the same of Anton Bruckner, but, unlike Bruckner, there is no compelling forward thrust in this music—nothing heaven storming, or, unlike Beethoven, nothing that pushes the technical or aesthetic envelope. Rheinberger was content to use the musical language he inherited from his teachers, the organist Johann Georg Herzog and the composer Ferdinand Lachner, who was one of Schubert’s devotees. Joseph Gabriel Rheinberger (1839–1901) was born in Vaduz, the capital of Liechtenstein. A child prodigy organist, he was appointed, at age seven, to the post of town organist. Subsequent training in organ and composition took him to Munich and, ultimately, to Vienna where he lived out his days as a composer of 197 works—including symphonies, tone poems, chamber works, piano pieces, masses, requiems, and two operas—and as a teacher at the Vienna Conservatory. Among his pupils can be counted Engelbert Humperdinck, Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari, and Horatio Parker. The Lachner connection is intriguing, in that Rheinberger’s life span effectively brought the world of Schubert into the first year of the 20th century. Seen in a different light, Rheinberger was a hopeless anachronism. Listening to this music, I wonder how he must have reacted to the “music of the future,” as exemplified in Wagner’s tonally ambivalent Tristan.

There is a good deal of Biedermeier charm in these two works, but that is only one of its constituent elements. At its core, it is made of sterner stuff. The Six Pieces for Violin and Organ, op. 150, masquerades as a Baroque suite. Its opening movement is a stylized French overture, which provides one of the piece’s finest moments, in Rheinberger’s aforementioned synthesis of Baroque and Romantic languages. Unlike how they would have been handled by the great Baroque masters, the following movements—Pastorale, Gigue, Elegie, Abendlied, and Theme and Variations—the liner notes claim, “do not have any real interconnection, either thematically or with regard to key.” The implication is that we have a handful of pretty genre pieces and not much more. I respectfully disagree. There are subtle thematic and harmonic links throughout these pieces, and some of them—the Pastorale and especially the Elegy—are achingly beautiful in their inconsolable melancholy. The second work, Suite for Violin and Organ, op. 166, is more closely reasoned. Its opening Preludium evokes the world of Bach. The following Canzone takes us into the worlds of Schubert and Brahms, although there is also a Brucknerian quality in its austerity and in its ability to make time stand still, qualities that also characterize the following Allemande with its Brahmsian trio section. The final Moto perpetuo is based on the same harmonic progression that underpins the whole suite, and it puts the violinist to the test—one that she passes with flying colors.

Violinist Line Most’s intonation is impeccable, and her tone production is ravishing. Organist Marie Ziener, playing the fine organ of David’s Church, Copenhagen (Marcussen & Son, 1980) is with her hand-in-glove. The recorded balances in this tricky repertoire are beyond reproach."

William Zagorski, FANFARE

The highly romantic music of Alla Pavlova, a Russian composer now resident in the USA, has been praised for its ‘surreal serenity…woven with unflinching sadness, without concessions to short attention spans and all within the long émigré tradition of nostalgia for homeland’ (MusicWeb) and its ‘integrity and good old-fashioned craft’ (Fanfare). These traits are amply evident in her highly emotional Symphony No. 6, inspired by Vincent van Gogh’s famous painting The Starry Night and dedicated to the tormented artist, and the delightful suite from her ballet Thumbelina, based on Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale.

Some of Robert Schumann’s rarest piano music can be heard in this disc, which ranges from his precocious Titania Overture arrangement to the Ghost Variations, the theme of which, he told his wife Clara, had been sung to him by angels. His Beethoven Studies survive in three sources, whilst his admiration for his contemporaries Schubert and Chopin is shown by two works containing a series of variations. The 1836 Third Sonata is included in the pre-1853 revision and also included is the original version of what became his very popular Toccata, Op. 7.

Hugo Alfvén (1872–1960) was approximately contemporaneous with a number of late and post-Romantic Swedish composers that included, among others, Peterson-Berger (1867–1942), Stenhammar (1871–1927), Otto Olsson (1879–1964), and Ture Rangström (1884–1947). Alfvén’s style, like that of his compatriots, is a generally satisfying fusion of late Romantic and post-Romantic trends with elements of Scandinavian nationalism. He wrote five symphonies, a considerable volume of choral music, and a number of folk-based tone poems and rhapsodies, of which Midsommarvaka (“Midsummer Vigil”) is probably the work by which he remains best known today.

“Skerries,” generically, refers to small rocky islands that pepper a coastline. Alfvén grew up in such an island landscape, the Stockholm archipelago. Nearly two decades before he completed his Fourth Symphony, “From the Outermost Skerries,” he had composed the tone poem, A Legend of the Skerries. Like Mendelssohn, Alfvén was also a talented watercolorist, and his musical works have about them the feeling of vast watercolor canvases. Beyond the washes of color, it is difficult to put a precise style to this music. It is more gestural than melodic—i.e., sweeping passages of great dramatic urgency—and more episodic than developmental. The orchestral effects, from huge swells to the most delicate atmospherics in the winds, harp, and piano are quite masterful, though I’d hesitate to call them novel. Much of the writing and the sound world it evokes bear a resemblance to Strauss’s An Alpine Symphony, written just three years earlier. But I detect other influences too. Alfvén’s Fourth, not completed until 1919, contains distant echoes of Liszt and Wagner, especially in the first movement; while the third movement contains even closer echoes of Mahler. The repeated appearance of an otherworldly disembodied sound, wordless vocalise for soprano and tenor, adds another dimension of mystery and beauty to the piece. Think of it as an extended Scandinavian La mer.

The Festival Overture of 1944 is a much later work, but one that is more conservative and backward looking. The insert note does not say if the piece was specifically intended for some public event or ceremony, but it is definitely of a character that would be suited to such a purpose. Pomp and Circumstance it’s not, but it makes for an effective crowd-pleaser.

As for the performances, once again we are faced with a bang-for-the-buck dilemma. Järvi’s set on BIS can now be had in a five-CD box that contains all five Alfvén symphonies, plus a generous offering of suites and rhapsodies, for just under $60. The Fifth Symphony and some of the other pieces were recorded more recently than the bulk of the material, which goes back to the late 1980s. Järvi is expert in this music, the Stockholm Philharmonic is top-drawer, and BIS’s sound is demonstration quality.

For Naxos, Niklas Willén has now given us four of the five symphonies (I expect the fifth will follow soon), though not all with the same orchestra. Still, they are superb, and at Naxos’s prices, even five separate CDs cost considerably less than the BIS set. If you already have the Järvi, there is not enough difference between the two to warrant adding the Willén, and vice-versa. If you have neither, I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help to you this time. I like them both equally. I’d say buy the Naxos CD first, just to see if the music is to your taste. If it is, then you can decide later which way to go.

Jerry Dubins, FANFARE

Fibich’s colorful symphonic poems have not been neglected on disc, but most of the recordings made to date come from Supraphon and seem to pop in and out of print at random, making them difficult to find. So it’s good to have this ongoing series, especially as it’s very well played and recorded, and Marek Štilec offers compelling interpretations of all five pieces. The music is fun. Fibich was not the melodist that Dvorák was (consider the two Othellos), but he knew how to score for large orchestra, and although the idiom is conservative, it never sounds inhibited. He whips up a fine storm at the start of The Tempest, for example, and Štilec digs in with gusto.

The largest work here, one that will be unfamiliar even to experienced listeners, is Záboj, Slavoj and Ludek. The story comes from a medieval Czech source of some kind, and I frankly have no idea what it’s about. Neither does the booklet note writer, evidently, other than to say that Smetana was inspired by the same source to compose Ma Vlást. Never mind. The music obviously has something to do with militant nationalism, and it’s typically well sustained and confidently structured. You’ll enjoy getting to know it, as you will all five of these works.

If you’re curious, try comparing this setting of Toman and the Wood Nymph to Novák’s very different, more modern setting–or even Sibelius’ tone poem of the same title. Evidently the wood nymph really got around. This is turning out to be an excellent series, and a convenient way to fill out your collection of Czech romantic orchestral music.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The best of Eternal Strings accompanied by multiple Orchestra's under the direction of world famous artist bring such classics as Barber's Adagio for Strings, Op. 11 and orchestra) and Tchaikovsky's Serenade in C Major, Op. 48: I. Pezzo in forma di Sonatina to life.

No one plays Stravinsky's neo-classical works better than Robert Craft. In the Symphony in C he captures the flow of the piece perfectly, understanding that the music's wistful innocence and rhythmic freshness depends far more on precision of execution than on interpretive point-making. The Symphony in Three Movements packs a nice, hefty punch in its outer movements, and the important harp part is very well balanced in the central Andante.

Neither Dumbarton Oaks nor the Octet strikes me as top-notch Stravinsky, though judging from his notes Craft would disagree. In any case, these are wholly winning performances, totally free of artifice. Dumbarton Oaks in particular does not sound like bad Bach, but comes across as energetic and vital, the rhythmic drive of its outer movements never turning mechanical. The fine sonics remain remarkably consistent despite the various recording locations and dates. Highly recommended.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Beck' symphonies have long been regarded as among the most striking works of their kind from the mid-18th century. Remarkable for their dramatic flair, rich harmonic language and fluid, inventive part writing, Beck' Op. 3 Symphonies display a rare le.