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

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 António de Almeida for high musical standing at the court of the Portuguese King, João 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 Cassadó composed a brilliantly virtuoso trio, influenced by earlier Spanish models, but revealing great panache and considerable demands via guitar imitations, Malagueña 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 premièred 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