The 18th century French writer, Charles de Brosses described Pergolesi' Stabat Mater, completed as the composer lay dying, as 'the master work of Latin music'.

Enrique Granados is best-known for his piano music, especially the ‘Danzas Españolas’ and ‘Goyescas.’ Little regard is given to his chamber music, songs and orchestral works. Earlier this year I reviewed Volume 1 of the present series of orchestral music for MusicWeb International and concluded that it was a worthy project that explored beyond Granados’s normal repertoire and I looked forward to hearing the second installment.

The CD opens with what is probably the only one of the composer’s orchestral works to become a hit – the ‘Intermezzo.’ It was derived from his opera Goyescas (1915), which was premiered in New York on 28 January 1916. It was a by-product of the great piano suite. The composer described his opera as displaying in the ‘rhythm [and] colour, a portrait of quintessentially Spanish life and a sense of emotion that leaps from the amorous to the passionate, the dramatic or even the tragic…just as in Goya’s works you find aspects of both love and tragedy, and both quarrels and flirtations.’ The delightful ‘Intermezzo’ was composed very quickly just before the premiere, to accommodate a longer than expected scene change between the first and second acts of the opera. Its mood is of passion, drama with a hint of sultry sunshine and romance in the ‘big tune.’

The delightfully named ‘Danza de los ojos verdes’ (Dance of the green eyes) was first heard in New York’s Maxine Elliot Theatre just a few days after the opera’s premiere. It was presented as a part of an ‘evening of dance’ performed by Antonia Merce (1890-1936), who was billed as ‘La Argentina.’ The present short dance was written for, and dedicated to, Merce. It is an uncomplicated little piece that uses the usual ‘mechanics’ of a Spanish dance – tambourines, castanets, and ‘gypsy tinged orientalism’. It is a magnificent little tone-poem that depicts the flamenco celebrations in the Sacromente district of Granada.

The mood of celebration continues in the Danza gitana (Gypsy Dance), which was composed in 1915 and was dedicated to the dancer Carmen Tórtola Valencia (1882-1955). It is full of vibrancy, instrumental colour and Iberian rhythms. The liner notes point out that the composer used a large orchestra for this short work, which succeeded in ‘limiting its opportunities for performance.’ This three-and-a-half-minute dance would make an ideal ‘encore’ for any symphony orchestra, in Spain or elsewhere.

A very different mood is evoked in the major symphonic poem La nit del mort (Night of the dead man). It was subtitled ‘poem of desolation.’ The work, which includes a tenor solo and a chorus, was composed in 1897. As I understand it, La nit del mort was left unfinished by the composer and remains unpublished. I can only assume that it was completed by someone unknown. It is very much a work of two parts. The first section, as Rob Barnett has pointed out, is almost Delian in its subtlety and soft impressionistic mood. However, about halfway through things change. It becomes almost a mini-opera, with a tenor aria ‘I am death, my girl…’ The chorus insists that the ‘horns of war are sounding’ and that ‘those who die defending their country will be glorified and will not die.’ The ‘libretto’ is by Apel-les Mestres (1854-1936). As a piece, I am only partially impressed. The first section (which I love) is beautiful; the second (which I do not like) is bombastic, over the top and sub-Verdi in its effect.

‘Dante’ was premiered during June 1908 in Barcelona’s then new Palau de la Música Catalana. It was remarkably successful at the time, with performances in the USA, as well as at the Queen’s Hall, London with Sir Henry Wood. It subsequently fell into neglect. As the titles of the two ‘movements’ suggest, Granados took two important themes from Dante’s great poem: the meeting with the great Roman poet Virgil and the tragic love affair between Paolo e Francesca. In this latter movement the mezzo-soprano sings beautifully Francesca’s story. The composer suggested that it was not ‘my intention to mirror The Divine Comedy line by line, but to give my impression of a life and a work; the lives of Dante and Beatrice and The Divine Comedy are, for me, one and the same thing.’ The listener must not look for an Iberian influence in the pages of the two-part symphonic poem. The liner notes quote Carol A. Hess, who has pointed out that this is ‘a vast and sombre work with little hint of the traditional images of a lively, sunlit Spain…’ There are influences from Richard Wagner, César Franck, Alexander Scriabin and even the romantic side of Arnold Schoenberg. The harmonies are chromatic, rich and ‘voluptuous’. Tantalisingly, there exists a third movement of this massive tone-poem, ‘La Laguna Estigia’ (The Stygian Lake) but unfortunately there are only sketches. The work was originally planned to be in four movements.

All the music is finely played and performed by the soloists, the chorus and the Barcelona Symphony Orchestra under Pablo González. Mezzo-soprano Gemma Coma-Alabert gives a stunning performance in the ‘Dante’. The liner notes are helpful in approaching this little-known music. They are written by Justo Romero and well-translated by Susannah Howe. They are also given in Spanish. The text of La nit del mort and ‘Paulo e Francesca’ are presented in both languages. Details of the performers are included.

– MusicWeb Internationsl (John France)

The first section shows González and his orchestra at their best, with grainy strings, piquant soft-edged woodwinds and a natural, musicianly way of shaping a phrase. Those qualities are all in evidence in two short gypsy dances and the familiar Goyescas Intermezzo; the slightly hazy Naxos sound complements performances that are affectionate and characterful.

– Gramophone

Listen to the Naxos Podcast to learn more about this release

Dublin-born prodigy John Field enjoyed a wide reputation and great popularity. He was renowned as a soloist for his delicacy of nuance and as a composer for his cultivation of that most poetic of forms, the nocturne. His Piano Concertos were eagerly anticipated and the premiere of the Concerto No. 7 in Paris on Christmas Day 1832 was attended by both Chopin and Liszt. Ingeniously structured in two movements, its Rondo finale evokes the ballroom and Russia in a series of constant contrasts. The Irish Concerto is a reworking of the first movement of Field's Piano Concerto No. 2 in A-Flat Major.

My Mother Persia is a cycle of eight symphonic poems by the distinguished Iranian-born composer and conductor Alexander Rahbari. Three of the works on this album set some of the finest Iranian poetry and are cast for the tenor voice employing traditional sung forms. Rahbari's music utilizes the lavish sound world of the symphony orchestra but contains many of the essential elements- scales, rhythms, and colors- of Iranian music. Alexander Rahbari is a remarkable figure in the music world, taking a leading position in the cultural development of his country from a young age, winning numerous awards as a conductor and becoming closely associated with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra as assistant to Herbert von Karajan.

Also Available: Beatles Go Baroque / Peter Breiner & His Chamber Orchestra

Classical musicians have always recognized the musicality and originality of The Beatles’ songs, Leonard Bernstein declaring the Lennon-McCartney composing team ‘the Schuberts of our time’. This sequel to Peter Breiner’s multi-platinum Beatles Go Baroque(Naxos 8.555010) takes the original concept even further, keeping 18th-century masterpieces such as Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons and Bach’s famously stylish and beautiful Violin Concerto No. 1 largely intact, elegantly combining them with The Beatles’ most enduring melodies to create a joyously genuine 21st-century mashup. Peter Breineris one of the world’s most recorded musicians, with over 200 albums released and multiple streams and downloads. Known as a conductor, composer, pianist and arranger, he has conducted, often doubling as a pianist, the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, the Bournemouth, Jerusalem, New Zealand, Moscow and Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestras, the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra, the Slovak Philharmonic and the Orchestre National de France, to mention just a few. His compositions and arrangements have been played in concerts and broadcast worldwide, and some of the most prestigious ballet companies have used his music in numerous performances.

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REVIEW:

With considerable ingenuity, Peter Breiner intertwines original Beatles melodies with unchanged moments from two great composers of the Baroque era. But does this work in the same way as the original Beatles Go Baroque? Well, that will be a personal response. So let’s start from ‘square one’ and simply enjoy the disc as rather quirky light music that is immaculately played by a multi-national chamber orchestra. Breiner’s direction keeps the music bouncing along, while managing to retain respect for the original composer.

– David's Review Corner (David Denton)

DI VITTORIO Overtura Respighiana 1. Symphony No. 2, “Lost Innocence 1.” Ave Maria 2. Symphony No. 1, “Isolation 1.” Clarinet Sonata No. 1 3 • 1,2 Salvatore Di Vittorio, cond; 2 Respighi Choir; 3 Benjamin Baron (cl); 1 New York “Ottorino Respighi” CO • NAXOS 8572333 (56:52)


RESPIGHI Aria for Strings. Violin Concerto in A. Suite for Strings. Rossiniana: Suite • Salvatore Di Vittorio, cond; Laura Marzadori (vn); New York “Ottorino Respighi” CO • NAXOS 8572332 (77:32)


If Palermo-born Salvatore Di Vittorio (b.1967) is new to you (as he is to me), based on these two Naxos releases you might be justified in thinking he’s a third-generation relation to Italian composer Ottorino Respighi. That’s because as a conductor, Di Vittorio leads an ensemble he founded and named “Ottorino Respighi” Chamber Orchestra of New York in a program of works by Respighi. As an arranger, he revised and/or completed three of the works heard on the second of these two discs. And as a composer, Di Vittorio has been hailed as a “lyrical romantic … following in the footsteps of Respighi.” Though a reading of Di Vittorio’s biography on his website (salvatoredivittorio.com/bio.html) discloses no direct link to the former composer, it appears that Respighi is near and dear to Di Vittorio’s heart.


In a sense, you might say that in at least one of his compositions, Overtura Respighiana , Di Vittorio has channeled Respighi to write music that the real Respighi might have written himself, for the piece is a devilishly delightful concoction that plays on Respighi’s Rossiniana and Pines of Rome , fusing them with references to Di Vittorio’s own music, to create a kind of freshly minted Boutique fantasque.


The Symphony No. 2, titled “Lost Innocence,” on the other hand, does not, as far as I can tell, quote anything by Respighi, but the brilliant swatches of instrumental color Di Vittorio weaves into and through this striking musical tapestry is reminiscent of Respighi’s way with the orchestral palette. Di Vittorio tells us that the work was inspired by the tragedy of the Yugoslav civil wars in the late 1990s. Its four movements—“Requiem for a Child,” “Dance of Tears,” “Childheart,” and “Elegy: Marcia Funebre”—at least up until the finale, reflect a calm that is neither quiet nor peaceful, but one that builds toward a shattering, tragic ending.


The Ave Maria for a cappella women’s chorus is one of Di Vittorio’s conservatory works, written in 1995 (revised in 1998) after graduating from the Manhattan School of Music. At first it struck my ear as fairly dissonant, sounding almost like it could have been written by Penderecki, Lutos?awski, or Vasks, but as the piece unfolded, emerging from the harmonic counterpoint were passages that, with just a few minor adjustments to the voice-leading, sounded as if they might have come from a cappella moments in Verdi’s Requiem. Di Vittorio confirms that impression in his booklet note, stating that a number of influences run through the piece, from Palestrina and Monteverdi to Verdi, and that “in particular, certain resemblances may be traced to Verdi’s choral Ave Maria .” The effects of Di Vittorio’s piece are quite arresting, simultaneously stark and austere yet illuminated from within by a shimmering light that leads to a most meltingly beautiful cadential Amen.


The Symphony No. 1, titled “Isolation,” dates to one year before the Ave Maria but was revised in 1999. No borrowings from Respighi appear in this score either, yet his spirit hovers over it in the luminous divided string writing and exquisite chiaroscuro effects. This is a strings-only work, and according to Di Vittorio one of its influences was Vivaldi’s seldom-performed Sinfonia al Santo Sepolcro , RV 169, one of Vivaldi’s most harmonically tortured works, written in a highly chromatic idiom intended to represent Christ’s pain and suffering. For Di Vittorio, the “Isolation” Symphony is meant to depict man’s alienation from himself and his fellow man. If you were to listen to the piece without knowing that, I’m not sure you would necessarily pick up specifically on that theme. The music is sad, to be sure, even brooding, but more than once it put me in mind of Barber’s Adagio for Strings , a piece that is somehow uplifting in its tragedy.


The Di Vittorio-as-composer CD closes with another work revised in 1998, the Clarinet Sonata No. 1. Not reflected in its title is the fact that it’s a piece for unaccompanied clarinet, which is a bit of a challenge for both composer and performer, considering that a solo wind instrument, unlike a violin or cello, can’t make its own harmony by playing double-stops or chords. But I suppose if Bach and Debussy could write for unaccompanied flute, there’s no reason the solo capabilities of other wind instruments shouldn’t be explored. Di Vittorio notes that he drew inspiration and advice for the work from his father, Giuseppe, who was a clarinetist. Di Vittorio claims to have been influenced by Verdi, Brahms, Berlioz, and elements of French Baroque dance, though these elements are not easily discerned due to the nature of the music’s syntax and style, which consists largely of loosely connected contrasting phrases that never quite seem to coalesce into an identifiable whole. Nonetheless, Benjamin Baron’s very accomplished clarinet playing invites further listening and offers a promise that there is more to this piece than meets the ear on first hearing.


Critics can be a cruel lot—I know because I’m one of them—and there are those who will say, and already have, that music like this being written today is irrelevant. That’s a strong sentiment, for sure, but nowhere near as judgmental as someone like Pierre Boulez would be. He is quoted as having said that composers who write music like this simply don’t exist, prompting an acquaintance of mine to describe Boulez as “the Dr. Mengele of France.” With one wave of his hand, off you go to the gas chamber. My attitude, as expressed on a number of past occasions, is that beautiful music is beautiful music, regardless of when it’s written, and Di Vittorio proves himself with this CD to be a composer of beautiful music extraordinaire. I strongly recommend this release to you for many hours of listening pleasure.


The second of the two entries consists entirely of music by Respighi, though Di Vittorio has had a hand in the realization of three of the four of the works as heard on the disc. I’m not sure just how seriously Respighi was ever taken by critics and the academic elite, but thanks to a small number of works—primarily his Roman trilogy, the Ancient Airs and Dances suites, and La Boutique fantasque —he came to enjoy considerable exposure and popularity, especially in the U.S. Toscanini premiered the third number of the Roman trilogy, Feste Romane , with the New York Philharmonic in 1929, and then went on to record the piece for RCA twice, once in 1942 with the Philadelphia Orchestra and a second time with the NBC Symphony Orchestra in 1949, adding the Fountains of Rome in 1951 and the Pines of Rome in 1953. Toscanini wasn’t the only one to climb aboard the Respighi bandwagon. Mengelberg premiered the composer’s Toccata for Piano and Orchestra with the New York Philharmonic in 1928, and the Boston Symphony Orchestra commissioned Respighi’s Metamorphoseon for its 50th anniversary in 1931.


Yet of Respighi’s nearly 200 scores—among which are nine operas, five ballets, several concertos, quite a few chamber works, and a considerable volume of vocal and choral numbers—a good deal of it is unrecorded and rarely, if ever, performed. The reasons seem to be twofold. First, the critics and opinion-makers, while acknowledging the composer’s gift for colorful orchestration and pictorial illusionism, regarded the music as “derivative,” “cinematic,” and even “vulgar,” by which I prefer to think they meant lacking in substance and depth rather than tawdry and tasteless. The truth of the matter is that there is nothing any more cinematic or “vulgar,” if you choose to use that word, about Respighi’s The Fountains of Rome , written in 1916, than there is about Bloch’s Schelomo written a year earlier. But the second, and perhaps more serious, criticism Respighi faced—though it was largely unjustified—was that he was a supporter of Mussolini’s fascist regime. Evidence seems to suggest that Respighi didn’t have a political bone in his body, but it may have been his very passivity and silence that were damning.


The 24-year-old Respighi began work on a violin concerto in 1903. Only the first two movements were completed; the third remained in a piano reduction with just a few measures orchestrated. After analyzing the score, Di Vittorio made enhancements to the orchestration of the first two movements and completed the third using material from the other movements. Di Vittorio’s completion was premiered in New York in 2010. I note a 1994 recording of the concerto on a Bongiovani CD, but it is only of Respighi’s original first two movements. The current performances of both the concerto and the Aria for Strings, transcribed by Di Vittorio, are world premiere recordings. The concerto, which owes much to Vivaldi and early Mendelssohn, inhabits a world of lyrical sunshine that plays on the senses like a fresh breeze bearing scents of an Italian vineyard in spring. Thanks to the efforts of Di Vittorio, and the capable hands and sensitive voice of violinist Laura Marzadori, this romantically expressive score is brought to us complete for the first time.


The even earlier 1901 Aria, Respighi’s salute to his Italian heritage by way of Frescobaldi, Corelli, and, again, Vivaldi, found its way into the composer’s Suite in G Major for Strings and Organ. Di Vittorio makes of it a lovely air for string orchestra. Both the Aria and the Suite were revised or edited to prepare the very first printed editions (score and parts) of each score. Up until now, only manuscript copies of the score and parts existed for both works. Beyond this, Di Vittorio then made slight adjustments to the Aria to make it suitable for not only string orchestra but string quintet, in order to promote Respighi’s music in academic settings, such as conservatories and music colleges.


The booklet does not explain to what extent Di Vittorio “revised” Respighi’s Suite for Strings, cataloged as P 41. The piece is a six-movement suite in Baroque style that anticipates Respighi’s later and very popular Ancient Airs and Dances.


Six years after Respighi visited Rossini’s collection of piano pieces titled Les Riens (“Trifles,” aka “Sins of my Old Age”) for his ballet La Boutique fantasque in 1919, he returned to mine the mother lode again in 1925 for his Rossiniana Suite. It is given here in unaltered form and in a delightful performance by Di Vittorio’s “Ottorino Respighi” Chamber Orchestra of New York. As one of Respighi’s more popular works, there is of course serious competition in the suite, not least among which is a classic 1967 recording with Ansermet (one of his last) and the Suisse Romande Orchestra.


The current Naxos release, in addition to excellent performances and recording, offers to the Respighi fan a combination of never-before-heard music and works in never-before-heard transcriptions by Salvatore Di Vittorio. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

The last disc in Marangoni's highly acclaimed four single disc survey of Clementi's monumental Gradus ad Parnassum.

HINDEMITH Konzertmusik for Piano, Brass, and Two Harps, op. 49. The Four Temperaments. Piano Music with Orchestra (for Piano Left Hand), op. 29. Kammermusik No. 2 for Piano, Quartet, and Brass, op. 36/1. Piano Concerto • Idil Biret (pn); Toshiyuki Shimada, cond; Yale SO • NAXOS 8.573201-02 (2 CDs: 136:15)


Idil Biret will be no stranger to readers; as one of Naxos’s most reliable house artists, she has recorded vast amounts of the piano repertoire for the label. The works on this two-CD set, however, may not be as familiar as she is. With the exception of The Four Temperaments , which has gained somewhat of a foothold on record and as a concert work—Hindemith was originally commissioned by George Balanchine in 1940 to produce a score for a ballet—the other four works on these discs may be new to all but those who are Hindemith devotees.


The title of the album, The Complete Piano Concertos , stretches the definition a bit of what constitutes a concerto, but Hindemith’s habit of writing for unusual combinations of instruments and setting them in somewhat unorthodox forms can make classifying his works subject to interpretation.


The program opens with the Konzertmusik for Piano, Brass, and Two Harps, commissioned by Elizabeth Coolidge Sprague and composed in 1930. The brass instruments called for in the “Brass” of the work’s title are four horns, three trumpets, two trombones, and tuba. In four movements, the piece is best described as being in Hindemith’s neobaroque style.


The Theme with Four Variations for Piano and Strings, commonly referred to as just The Four Temperaments , though originally intended to be choreographed for a ballet, works well as a concert piece because essentially it can be seen as a four-movement symphony with an introduction. The introduction in this case is the statement of the theme. Four variations (movements) follow, each representing one of the four temperaments or medieval humors—black bile for the melancholic, blood for the sanguine, phlegm for the phlegmatic, and yellow bile for the choleric. The bodily fluids are enough to conjure a scene from the embalming room in a mortuary, but Hindemith’s music is full of life and gorgeous sonorities.


As mentioned above, this is the main work in which Biret and the Yale Symphony Orchestra’s strings run into some significant competition in the numbers game. Two versions that have been long on my shelf are those by Carol Rosenberger with the strings of the Royal Philharmonic on Delos and Howard Shelley with the strings of BBC Philharmonic on Chandos. Biret on the present recording acquits herself well in the solo piano part, but the string players of the Yale orchestra, an ensemble made up of the university’s undergraduate students don’t play with quite the coordination and richness of tone as do their professional counterparts across the Pond.


Hindemith, like Ravel, was commissioned to write a piano work for the left hand by Paul Wittgenstein, the pianist who lost his right arm in the First World War. Quite a few other composers were enlisted in the enterprise as well, including Britten, Kornold, Prokofiev, and Richard Strauss. They all complied, but Wittgenstein ended up not performing all the works he solicited. Hindemith’s contribution was Piano Music with Orchestra (for Piano Left Hand) composed in 1923. It has gained nowhere near the exposure of Ravel’s Concerto for the Left Hand; in fact, at the moment ArkivMusic lists only one other recording besides this one, a 2008 live performance by Leon Fleisher with the Curtis Symphony Orchestra led by Christoph Eschenbach.


The Hindemith is a captivating score with a perky, jazzy first movement; a catchy, ostinato-driven second movement that periodically lapses into march-like, military fanfares; a haunting third movement in which the piano and a solo English horn (then later a solo flute) engage in a long, slow, lonely dance; and a Finale that once again is in the composer’s best neobaroque style.


The Kammermusik No. 2, for Piano, Quartet, and Brass, is the second in a series of seven Kammermusik works Hindemith promised to deliver to conductor Hermann Scherchen, who took an interest in promoting new music by contemporary composers of the period. It’s a bit difficult to categorize these works, for no two of them are scored for the same combination of instruments, but all of them feature a solo instrument and a varied ensemble of 11 or more players. Because the solo instrument—whether piano, cello, violin, viola, viola d’amore, or organ—is treated as it would be in a concerto, the seven works are loosely classified as chamber concertos, but the number of instruments in the orchestra pushes the definition of “chamber.” To confuse matters further, sandwiched in between the first and third of these seven Kammermusik scores, is a lone stray, if you will, that goes by the title, Kleine Kammermusik , so-called because it is scored for wind quintet with no soloist; yet it’s sometimes lumped together with its larger-scaled Kammermusik cousins.


All together then there are eight of these works, but the only recorded version I’m aware of that includes the whole shebang—and it’s an outstanding one—is the two-disc set by Riccardo Chailly leading members of the Royal Concertgebouw on Decca. If one or more readers are wondering why I’m omitting the equally excellent set by Claudio Abbado with members of the Berlin Philharmonic on EMI, it’s because that set, as well as all the others listed, include only the seven Kammermusik entries. Abbado fills out his set leading violist Tabea Zimmermann in an incomparably beautiful performance of Hindemith’s Der Schwanendreher . But Chailly’s set, as far as I know, is unique in being the only one to include the lone Kleine Kammermusik score for wind quintet.


Perhaps it’s the other surveys that make more sense, because the Kleine Kammermusik is really a fish out of water that doesn’t go with the seven Kammermusik works. Still, it’s too delightful a piece to be without, and stand-alone recordings of it are mostly included on programs of wind quintet works by a mix of composers, though one, on Sony, does offer an all-Hindemith program of the composer’s other wind works.


Most of the Kammermusik scores fall into Hindemith’s neobaroque style, for which reason they have sometimes been branded the “ Brandenburg s of the 20th century.” I wouldn’t push that analogy too far, though, for it may be apt to the extent that the writing is contrapuntal in nature and that each concerto is scored for a different combination of instruments, but in harmonic, rhythmic, and textural makeup the music is very Modernistic. This is not the type of neobaroque treatment one hears in a work like Stravinsky’s Pulcinella , which really is based on late Baroque and very early Classical models.


Finally, we come to Hindemith’s formally titled Piano Concerto of 1945, premiered by George Szell, the Cleveland Orchestra, and the pianist for whom the piece was written, Jesús Maria Sanromá. Hindemith composed the Concerto while vacationing in Maine and Connecticut. Of the five works on the disc, this is the latest written and, frankly, if you’re not already familiar with the piece, it’s the one that’s likely to take three or four hearings before you warm to it. It’s not that its musical language is any more Modernistic or difficult to comprehend than what has gone before; rather, it’s that the work seems to proceed episodically, with sections following each other that don’t seem, on the surface at least, to relate. Thus, the logic of the score is elusive.


Current competition is slim, and what there is of it is mostly not very current, with a 1948 performance led by Sergiu Celibidache and a First Edition recording by the Louisville Orchestra led by Lawrence Leighton Smith. The most recent version—aside from the one at hand—is by Werner Andreas Albert leading the Frankfurt Radio Symphony Orchestra on CPO, and even that one dates back more than a decade.


For Hindemith fans, this new Naxos collection of the composer’s complete works featuring a solo piano in combination with various instrumental ensembles will make an excellent addition to your collection, even if you already have some of these works on other recordings. For Hindemith novices and the curious, at Naxos’s bargain prices, this new two-disc set offers much very attractive and enjoyable music in excellent performances, and it may just inspire you to explore more of Hindemith’s output. Recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

BÉRIOT 12 Scènes ou Caprices, op. 109. 9 Studies. Prélude ou Improvisation, op. posth • Bella Hristova (vn) • NAXOS 8.572267 (68:02)


With the recent rash of recordings of his works, by now the music of Charles-Auguste de Bériot should have become almost as familiar to collectors as it has been to violinists, both teachers and students. Although probably few pupils work through his Méthode (1858) at the beginning of their academic careers, they encounter his concertos halfway through, and if they’ve persisted, study his 60 concert studies as a sort of gateway, beside Dont’s op. 35 and Gaviniès’s Matinées , to the transcendental technical studies of Paganini and Ernst. Unlike Dont’s more patterned études, however, Bériot’s take the form of character pieces: even the simple melodies and scales in the Méthode recall music for the salon more vividly than music for the studio.


From the outset, it’s clear that Bériot cut the Douze Scènes ou Caprices from the same cloth. The opening study, “La séparation,” begins almost as bleakly and hauntingly as does Sibelius’s Violin Concerto and includes a buzzing middle section in double-stops that draws upon the violin’s less familiar timbral regions as effectively as do some of Bartók’s duos. At least Bella Hristova plays the study that way, taking maximum advantage of the rich and dramatic possibilities for characterization it offers. If No. 2, “La polka,” doesn’t attain the same level of portraiture, it exceeds the First Study in brilliance and complexity, and Hristova proves herself more than equal to its demands. No. 3, “Le lézard,” brings snaky (lizard-like) chromatic lines, while No. 4 (“Le départ”) frames passagework with a lament. No. 5, “La fougue,” contains a mix of scalar and arpeggiated lines that climb chromatically in the middle section, punctuated by explosions of double-stops. No. 10, “Marche russe,” may not sound particularly Slavic, but it relies on the usual stock characters to carry its drama forward.


The Nine Studies, while not bearing titles (except for the last, written “in imitation of the old masters”), also express severally a range of moods that should qualify them for parlor performance, even if the first four remain as intensely patterned as the 60 Concert Studies (the Fifth, Melody, the Sixth, “Gulnare,” and the Seventh, March, offer more developed character studies). The posthumous Prélude ou Improvisation , written, as the notes state, largely without bar lines, might, except for its length (nine minutes and then some), be welcome in an occasional appearance on the concert stage in place of, say, Kreisler’s Recitativo e Scherzo.


Bruce R. Schueneman’s insert notes point out the similarity of Bériot’s arsenal to Paganini’s; and a cursory examination of the scores may perhaps make them seem more similar than they appear upon closer examination: in Bériot’s studies, the difficulties have all been wrought in conformity with positions achievable by a normal hand, while Paganini’s notoriously require the skill of a contortionist. Nevertheless, Bériot tailors these difficulties to his intended performers, and both the easiest and the most difficult of his works (and some, especially the studies, reach a very high level of difficulty) make a brilliant, thoroughly violinistic effect. Marc Pincherle likened Vivaldi to Kreisler in writing music that achieved a maximum of brilliance with a minimum of effort; he might have included Bériot.


Bella Hristova’s consistently elegant and richly characterized performances camouflage the difficulty of these studies, though they seem to reach at least the level of the 60 Concert Studies. The engineers captured the tonal splendor of her 1655 Nicolò Amati in St. John Chrysostom Church in Newmarket, Ontario, Canada, on February 12–15, 2009. Collectors of all kinds should find this compilation uncommonly interesting; but to violinists, it should be irresistible. It would be sad to learn that Hristova didn’t choose to record this repertoire only because a contract to do so had been offered and didn’t feel as sympathetic to the composer as she seems. In any case, strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

With fine organ playing from Jonathan Vaughn and excellent recorded sound(producer, Andrew Walton), the disc ranks among the best choral issues of recent times. John Steane, Gramophone

Zdenek Fibich was one of the most important Czech composers of the second half of the nineteenth century, after his Czech predecessor, Smetana, and near-contemporary, Dvorák. His Symphony No 2 in E flat major, Op 38 is one of his greatest orchestral works, holding in perfect balance the dual influences of the Czech Nationalist School (and particularly Dvorák) as well as Austro-German models such as Schumann, Weber and Wagner. Most of the main themes derive from some of his own piano pieces but they are integrated and developed in masterly fashion. At Twilight is a lusciously scored orchestral piece, whilst the Idyll is gently melancholic.

Internationally renowned and award-winning composer Salvador Brotons brings classical music into the here and now, depicting our contemporary world in his Fifth Symphony. It's first three movements are musical representations of the more negative aspects of the human condition, before the slow, final section offers a positive resolution. The Oboe Concertobrings out both lyrical expressiveness and virtuoso thrills from the soloist, and the Four Pieces for String Orchestra was the prize-winning work which brought acclaim and recognition to Brotons at the age of seventeen.

Arthur Fagen already demonstrated his credentials as a Martinu conductor with his generally excellent complete symphony cycle for Naxos, and this first installment of the piano concertos also is very fine. The Third concerto, Martinu's largest, is a magnificent work that Rudolf Firkusny made his own. Giorgio Koukl's performance is quite different. Whereas Firkusny is more "romantic", shaping phrases expressively and adjusting dynamics to create a more lyrical emphasis, Koukl, at slightly slower tempos, emphasizes the music's neo-classicism, with punchy rhythms and a drier overall sonority. Both approaches are perfectly legitimate when the playing is this good, and Koukl's interpretations give all three works a certain consistency of style, from the relatively early Concertino (not in fact all that small-scale) to the late Concerto No. 5--a sadly underrated piece that hardly deserves its neglect.

The Bohuslav Martinu Philharmonic, like many second-tier Eastern European ensembles, won't win any awards for seductive tonal allure, particularly compared to the support that the Czech Philharmonic offers Firkusny. But these players know the music, project it well, and have the composer's perpetually syncopated rhythms in their bones. The slightly dry but very clear sonics complement the rhythmic clarity of the conducting and the solo playing, and earn this disc an easy recommendation.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

SCHUBERT: String Quartets (Complete), Vol. 5

This is probably the finest version of the Britten Piano Concerto available, notwithstanding Britten's own justly revered rendition with Sviatoslav Richter on Decca. Certainly that is a wonderful performance, one that no one who loves the work should miss. But many years have come and gone. Although I do not subscribe to automatic assumptions of musical "progress", and even if Joanna MacGregor is no Richter, she certainly knows this work and plays it beautifully, and in any case the qualities that she and Steuart Bedford bring to the piece are quite different from what we find on the composer's own recording. In particular, Richter and Britten treat the work more in the Romantic virtuoso tradition, with a clear spotlight on the soloist, with the orchestra in a decidedly accompanying role.


MacGregor and Bedford work more as equals. Bedford's snappier rhythms and lighter textures combine with a less prominent piano to create an elegant, neo-classical atmosphere that's equally in keeping with Britten's idiom, as well as with the work's suite-like construction and formal patterning. The fact that MacGregor isn't as powerful a solo personality when compared to Richter does not mean that she is any less in command of Britten's flashy keyboard writing. Her finger-work in the opening Toccata is dazzling, her rhythmic acuity clearly superior to Richter's, while her sensitivity in the third-movement Impromptu and her give-and-take with the instrumentalists of the English Chamber Orchestra are wholly winning. She also brings plenty of spirit and a real "kick" to the concluding march, aided in no small degree by Bedford's alertness and the absolutely first-class sonics.


You also get the concerto's original third movement, a Recitative and Aria, as a thoughtful appendix. Ondine's recording, featuring Ralf Gothoni, also includes this movement but foolishly puts it in the middle of the work, meaning you have to skip over it (or the Impromptu) so as not to get stuck with a spurious, five-movement conflation of both versions. The couplings, both rarities, are just as brilliantly played. The Johnson Over Jordan Suite is especially entertaining, particularly its jazzy centerpiece, The Spider and the Fly. In short, I couldn't be happier that Naxos has been reissuing these excellent Collins Classics Britten recordings. They were and remain marvelous, almost as interpretively commanding as the composer's own, and they deserve a long life. [4/11/2005]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

"• Volume 1 of Mompou's complete songs, ranging from his very first, written in 1914 and 1915, to the 1973 Cinq mélodies sur des textes de Paul Valéry, arguably his greatest vocal work. • Spanish soprano Marta Mathéu is here accompanied on piano by Jordi Masó."

Landscapes is a journey through the rich tapestry of American wind band music, performed by one of the country’s leading ensembles. One of Michael Torke’s most admired works, Javelin has been described as a ‘sonic olympiad’, while his arrangement of Mojave was made especially for Ji Hye Jung and the University of Kansas Wind Ensemble. Frank Ticheli explores vibrant colors in sound in his moving An American Elegy, while the Copland arrangements encapsulate the depth and variety of his imagination.

Includes work(s) for guitar by Nicholas Maw. Soloist: Marcin Dylla.

RODRIGO Piano Concerto (rev. Achúcarro). Preludio para un poema a la Alhambra. Música para un jardín. Homenaje a la tempranica. Juglares • Max Bragado-Darman, cond; Castile and León SO; Daniel Ligorio Ferrandiz (pn) • NAXOS 8.557101 (60:17)

This is the fourth volume in Naxos’s series of “Complete Orchestral Works” by Rodrigo, but it is the first one to come my way. (I see no record of Volumes 1–3 having been reviewed in Fanfare, either.) My initial impression, though, is that this is yet another worthwhile series from a label that seems determined to leave no work unrecorded.

The glittering Piano Concerto is derived from a 1942 Concierto heroico, also for piano and orchestra. Pianist Joaquín Achúcarro revised the Concierto heroico “to achieve a better balance between the solo instrument and the orchestra, and to avoid some of the original repetitions,” in the words of annotator Enrique Martínez Miura. (Apparently, two “extremely virtuosic” cadenzas have been removed from the Largo too.) The new work was premiered in 1996, three years before Rodrigo’s death. What Rodrigo thought of all this is not indicated here, nor can I comment on the original work, as I have not heard it. I can say that the newer work is an attractive one, colorful to the point of being garish, and dramatic to the point of being hyper-emotional. Rodrigo’s original intention was to reflect on his hometown’s survival of the Spanish Civil War. If most of the Piano Concerto seems more like a marvelous circus than a commentary on war and the human spirit, it is hard to know whether to lay blame at the feet of Rodrigo or Achúcarro. That doesn’t make the work less enjoyable, though.

Música para un jardín (“Music for a Garden”) is Rodrigo’s own orchestration of two piano berceuses from 1935 (one for autumn and one for spring). When he orchestrated it, he added berceuses for the other two seasons, and a brief prelude. The finished work was used in a film documentary about Madrid’s El Retiro Park, but no visual assistance is necessary; this wistful and charming music stands on its own. The life of plants evokes an appropriately innocent response from the composer.

The other three works are less ambitious. Juglares, composed in 1923, was Rodrigo’s first orchestral work. After a brief drum tattoo, there is an attractive Allegro with an appealingly monotonous melody, a passionate slower section, and then a return to the opening section—short and sweet. The gorgeous Preludio para un poema a la Alhambra was written in 1928, while the composer was studying in Paris. The score is headed, “At twilight a guitar sighs, and beyond, almost within the Alhambra, ring out the rhythms that drive the dance.” That Ravel’s influence can be felt in this music is no surprise. Homenaje a la tempranica, from 1939, is another Parisian work, but more typical of the mature Rodrigo. “La tempranica” means “precocious girl,” and it is the name of a popular zarzuela by another composer. This was Rodrigo’s homage to that composer’s work, not to feminine precocity, per se (although the Homenaje was premiered by an all-female orchestra).

None—the conductor, the soloist, the orchestra—is familiar. Nevertheless, I have no complaints about the technical quality or the spirit of the performances. Ferrandiz, in fact, seems like a pianist worth hearing more from. The sound engineers have wrapped this gift with a bright and brilliant ribbon.

Do you like the Concierto de Aranjuez? (Who doesn’t?) Naxos and I ask you, each in our own way, to explore more of Rodrigo’s music. He was most definitely not a “one work” composer!

-- Raymond Tuttle, Fanfare

Compared with large-scale oratorios such as St Paul, which includes the lyrical chorus How lovely are the messengers, Mendelssohn’s smaller sacred choral works were influenced by Palestrina, ranging from short liturgical motets such as the Sechs Sprüche to the canticle settings of the Magnificat and Nunc dimittis. The famous sacred melody ‘O for the wings of a dove’ is to be found in Hear my prayer. The fine choristers of St Albans Cathedral can also be heard ‘on sparkling form’ (Gramophone) in John Rutter’s Gloria (8.572653).

Interpretative excellence once again from Koukl.

The third volume of Giorgio Koukl’s survey of Martin?’s piano music is as successful as the previous two. In my review of the second disc of the series I described some of the differences between Koukl’s approach and that of Emil Leichner, whose Supraphon set of the piano music (not quite the complete piano music) has been something of a benchmark set for many years now. Koukl tends to etch rhythms with greater incision and Leichner tends to a greater sense of reflectiveness. This is certainly a crudely suggestive way of approaching these two important readings of the piano music but for the purposes of this review it does indicate the divergences of approach that both men bring to bear. It may also help direct you if you wish to follow one or the other – though of course there are a number of other discs by other pianists worthy of note.

The Sonata is the most important work here. Koukl is sensitive to the Poco allegro marking here whilst Leichner prefers to emphasise the Allegro rather at the expense of the poco. I suspect this is to mitigate what Leichner may have detected as structural problems and to vest the opening with a powerful drive so as to balance the concluding Adagio. Leichner certainly makes the most of the contrasts here, despite the relative speed, and though his overall timing is very similar to Koukl’s the distribution amongst the three individual movements is very different. Though Leichner manages to find light and shade in his opening movement Koukl’s greater deliberation pays dividends. And he finds just the right sense of starkness and deliberation in that powerful Adagio finale which he plays with gravity and singular intensity.

The depth of Koukl’s bass is palpable in the Fantasie et Toccata. Its immediacy is arresting and stresses the abrupt dynamism of the writing. Koukl’s playing here locates the imperturbable violence and threat in the writing – it was written in 1940 after all. This is a more intensive and tensile approach than Leichner’s rather more skittish neo-classicism, though one wouldn’t want to underestimate Leichner’s determined commitment to the bellicose writing. Koukl certainly brings the edginess and brittle attacks of the Toccata very much to the fore. This is valiant and perceptive playing indeed, emphasised by the very immediate nature of the studio recording.

After these two powerful and important statements we turn to the Etudes and Polkas – lighter fare written in 1945. These brief and expert pieces – none lasting longer than three minutes - bring out Koukl’s instinct for rhythmic vivacity and alluring tone. As one might expect he’s generally – not always but usually – faster than Leichner and this brings advantages in terms of terpsichorean vitality. Curiously Leichner feels the Pastorale of the First Volume rather faster than Koukl – I thought it would be the other way around. The three Czech Dances round off the programme and Koukl, Prague born, knows all about them. He can do the Obkro?ák with the best of them.

Interpretative excellence once again from Koukl - and so volume four is awaited with anticipation.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

Edvard Grieg' idiom is firmly rooted in Norwegian folk music, especially in his numerous short pieces. The Sl tter are Norwegian folk dances and tunes, originally played on the peasant violin, and notated by Johan Halvorsen.

Paul Hindemith’s life was dominated by the events of the two world wars. In 1917, his discovery of contemporary Expressionist poetry and drama transformed him from a talented student to Germany’s leading new composer. His one-act operas Sancta Susanna and Das Nusch-Nuschi date from this period. Sancta Susanna – Hindemith’s first masterpiece – combines religious and erotic symbolism into an eerie narrative that was shocking for its time, whereas the dance suite from Das Nusch-Nuschi emphasises the plot’s origin as a Burmese comedy. The three symphonic movements from the opera Mathis der Maler refer to the three panels of the Isenheim Altarpiece by Renaissance painter Matthias Grünewald, but also graphically reflect Hindemith’s own artistic struggles in Nazi Germany.

Musicians ranging from Leonard Bernstein to the Emerson String Quartet have championed award-winning composer Richard Danielpour. Lacrimae Beati owes its origin to Mozart’s Requiem and was conceived after a perilous flight in 2002. Darkness in the Ancient Valley, a symphony in five movements inspired by recent events in Iran, utilizes a wide range of Persian folk-melodies and Sufi rhythms. A Woman’s Life, a cycle of poems by Maya Angelou, charts a moving trajectory from childhood to old age.

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REVIEW:

The program closes with A Woman’s Life (2007), based on a cycle of poems on that topic by Maya Angelou, who read the cycle, apparently unforgettably, to Danielpour and his wife in 2006. These songs are pitch perfect and memorably touching. I was enthralled from the start—a childhood poem of devastating innocence cloaked with an aura usually reserved for the likes of Barber—and if you love his music and American song repertoire in general you must hear this cycle. The finale is unspeakably beautiful. Ms Brown sings with loving understanding. The Nashville players sound great, as is usual these days.

–American Record Guide

This programme portrays the ‘birth’ of the flute in France in the late 17th century and the following 40 years of its life as a new and fashionable instrument. A famous patron of the arts, King Louis XIV gathered elite composers and musicians to create the refinement, elegance and good taste that was demanded at his Paris Court. From the early petites pièces to more virtuoso suites and sonatas with their ornamented lyricism and grand dance rhythms, the mellow, robust and almost husky sounds of flutes from this period blend and weave around each other like the voices of two singers.

The tragic death of Alberic Magnard, killed defending his home against German troops in 1914, brought a premature end to the composer’s life but not before he had completed four powerfully expressive symphonies (the Third and Fourth are on 8.574082). Symphony No. 1, with its strangely beautiful chorale, was first performed in 1893 but was then not heard again for a century. Symphony No. 2 caused a scandal at its premiere due to its length and complexity, but in its revised version offers radiant serenity and a dazzling confidence that reveals Magnard’s true compositional voice.

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REVIEW:

The outer movements have a flowing quality with a bit of quiet ecstasy that exemplifies what led people to call Magnard the French Bruckner, even though his music has a very different flavor. Keeping the long line going here is not easy to do, but Bollon excels, and he’s aided by excellent sound. This recording may make many listeners ask themselves how they could have been missing Magnard all these years.

– AllMusic Guide (James Manheim)

John Ireland’s music is often a response to landscape and romantic sensitivities, and with its significant musical clues, broad, songlike melodies and turbulent finale, the Sonata in G Minor is one of his most expressive and passionate works. A Downland Suite is one of Ireland’s most attractive compositions, especially for its exquisite Elegy and popular Minuet made familiar through its use in radio and television. Ireland’s evocative piano works lend themselves well to string orchestra arrangement, including the poetic Soliloquy, and In a May Morning inspired by spring on Guernsey.

The so-called 'lost generation' of German composers includes many whose lives were shaped by events after 1933. Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling: Violin Concerto; Partita; Polonaise buy CD music One such was Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling, a composer of strong spiritual depth whose 1953 Violin Concerto was rooted in his wartime experiences. Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling: Violin Concerto; Partita; Polonaise songs Ingeniously constructed, it subtly evokes the influence of Bach, without at all embracing neo-classicism. Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling: Violin Concerto; Partita; Polonaise album for sale Its moving slow movement is followed by a finale that marries virtuosity with dance-like magnetism. Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling: Violin Concerto; Partita; Polonaise CD music The Partita is much admired for its color and vitality, whilst the Polonaise is a lighter work, brimming with high spirits. Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling: Violin Concerto; Partita; Polonaise buy CD music GRAMMY--winner conductor and composer Jose Serebrier is one of today's most recorded classical artists. Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling: Violin Concerto; Partita; Polonaise songs He has received 39 GRAMMY- nominations in recent years. His First Symphony (8.559648) was premiered by Leopold Stokowski (who premiered several of his works) when Serebrier was 17, as a last-minute replacement for the then still unplayable Ives Fourth Symphony.

William Mathias was one of the most significant and prolific Welsh composers of the 20th century. His flexible and highly approachable style can be heard in the holiday mood of the Suite Parisienne, the brilliance and lyricism of the Capriccio for flute and piano and the wonderfully rhapsodic Sonata for Harp. Mathias’s songs are among the most communicative settings of their kind, including Pan Oeddwn Fachgen (‘A Dream of Youth’), considered by the composer to be ‘one of the finest lyrical poems in modern Welsh.

Naxos continues its exploration of Florence Price’s unjustly neglected orchestral works with this latest album, which includes Symphony No. 3. The ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra is conducted by Price advocate, John Jeter, who received widespread praise for his album of Symphonies Nos. 1 and 4 (8.559827), released in January 2019.

REVIEW:

Florence Price’s Symphony No. 3 (1940) may be her finest. Written in four well-proportioned movements, it begins with music of high seriousness—a slow introduction that sounds like the Adagio of Bruckner’s Seventh meets the Blues—and never looks back. The ensuring Andante is extremely beautiful, and in place of the usual scherzo Price gives us her customary “Juba,” a dance-like fantasy full of captivating sonorities, sultry melodies, and gently offbeat rhythms. As in the Fourth Symphony, Price calls the finale the actual Scherzo, offering her own imaginative slant on traditional symphonic form. It’s worth pointing out that as a graguate (with honors) from the New England Conservatory, Price was about as well trained as any American composer of her day, and entirely apart from the music’s characteristically personal expressive elements, her technical sophistication as a writer for the orchestra really shows. This is good stuff.

The Mississippi River, sometimes called a “suite,” is actually a tone poem containing nearly half an hour of continuous music. Price quotes American folk tunes and Negro spirituals (Get Along Little Doggies, Deep River, etc) as the river wends its way from north to south, but what impresses most is how well sustained the musical argument is, and how effectively this lengthy and colorful piece cheats the clock. Really, there’s no excuse for this music not being programmed regularly in American orchestra concerts. Finally, Ethiopia’s Shadow in America is a brief triptych tracing the arrival of the Black man to American as a slave, his resignation and faith, and finally, hopefully, his ultimate assimilation into American society in a fusion of African and “acquired impulses.” The work offers a useful commentary on the role of the individual in society in these racially polarized times.

John Jeter has already turned in very good performances of Price’s First and Fourth Symphonies with his own orchestra in Arkansas, but these recordings with the full-time ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra are both better played and better recorded. Price was an important and worthy voice in American classical music, quite apart from the challenges she faced as an African-American woman. Getting to know her is a genuine treat.

-- ClassicsToday.com (David Hurwitz)