An impressive survey of Hindemith's mature piano music, beautifully recorded.

This generously filled two disc set contains Hindemith's most mature works for one and two pianos. This demanding but rewarding music is still unknown to the majority of music-lovers. Glenn Gould recorded the Piano Sonatas in the 1960s; more recently, the Estonian pianist Kalle Randalu presented them on MDG. The principal rivals in Ludus Tonalis are John McCabe (Hyperion) and Boris Berezovsky (Warner Classics).
 
The three Sonatas were written in quick succession in 1936 and are, as a consequence, stylistically consistent. The First and Third require a virtuoso technique and are written in a grand manner that seems to hark back to both Bach and Beethoven. The Second Sonata is less ambitious, yet perhaps ultimately more persuasive than its weightier brothers. Bernard Roberts offers playing of real power and authority. The imposing second movement of the First Sonata has plenty of gravitas in this performance. The finale is the weakest part of the First Sonata; it is simply far too long and becomes wearisome towards the end. Roberts does his best here to hold the movement together and his interpretation is impressive.
 
The Third Sonata is the most classical of the three and follows the standard four movement pattern. The movements are more successfully balanced than in the First Sonata and the fugal finale comes off very well here, with Roberts achieving the right blend of momentum and clarity.
 
For me, the Second Piano Sonata is the real gem of the three. It is absolutely charming and instantly memorable. This music makes it clear why so many English composers were attracted to Hindemith's music in the mid-Twentieth Century. The appealing blend of neo-classicism, nobility and perky humour suited the age. Kenneth Leighton shows the influence of the German master in the outer movements of his two early Piano Sonatinas, not to mention his Fantasia Contrappuntistica. Walton, Tippett, Rawsthorne and Arnold Cooke all owe something to Hindemith as well. Even Vaughan Williams' Eighth Symphony has elements of the Hindemith style in its Scherzo second movement. Bernard Roberts plays the Second Sonata with much affection, particularly the lovely opening of the finale.
In the Sonata for Piano, Four Hands, Roberts is joined by David Strong and this musical partnership works splendidly. The faster moments in particular are despatched with considerable flair. Strong also takes part in the Sonata for Two Pianos, which receives a distinguished performance. The gamelan-like effects in the first movement are very successfully realised by both players and the second movement is also a great success, with rhythms nicely pointed. The finale is, like the First Piano Sonata, rather on the long-winded side, but the pianists make this movement sound as convincing as possible.
 
Roberts' performance of Ludus Tonalis is worthy to rank with the two superb rival versions listed above. Roberts offers playing of great nobility. He refuses to sentimentalise the more expressive sections of the work and the piece benefits hugely as a result. Fugue II is strikingly close in style to early Tippett ( Little Music for Strings). Interludium VIII offers a refreshing change of texture with its brilliant toccata-like figurations. Other parts, such as Fugue XI are less inspired musically, but the Postlude provides a suitably moving conclusion. If I had any criticism to make of Roberts' performance, it would be that he sometimes misses the humour in this music. Interludium III and Fugue IX would almost certainly benefit from a less strait-laced approach. Nevertheless, Roberts' performance is, as a whole, a notable achievement. For those listeners interested primarily in Ludus Tonalis, the choice of version will largely depend on the coupling; both McCabe and Berezowsky offer just the Suite 1922 on a single disc. Roberts' inclusion of the three Piano Sonatas, in such commanding performances, may well settle the matter in his favour.
 
These discs are well recorded and the performances are consistently of the highest calibre. There is also a superb booklet note by Calum MacDonald. An enthusiastic endorsement for this Nimbus set.
 
-- David Jenning, MusicWeb International

Let me say it right off the bat: I absolutely loved this CD, and I’m betting that you will, too. I have been enthralled with Hindemith’s Kammermusik ever since I acquired the complete set of works collected under that title in Riccardo Chailly’s 1992 two-disc Decca release. Seven works in all make up the series. Six are essentially chamber concertos, each featuring a different solo instrument: piano in the op. 36/1, cello in the op. 36/2, violin in the op. 36/3, viola in the op. 36/4, viola d’amore in the op. 46/1, and organ in the op. 46/2. The seventh, op. 24/1, is for 12 solo instruments. That leaves the op. 24/2 for five wind instruments heard here, to which Hindemith gave the title Kleine Kammermusik. Technically speaking, it falls outside the set of seven the composer designated Kammermusik, but in style it shares much in common with its siblings. Written in 1922, it is a delightful thing, peppy, perky, and playful, with just enough of those Hindemithian sour notes thrown in to give the piece a lemony zest. The Six Bagatelles by György Ligeti (b. 1923) is a fairly early piece written between 1951 and 1953, while the composer was still living in Hungary. The work is based on six movements from Ligeti’s Musica ricercata, and is clearly indebted to neo-Classical models, particularly Bartók and Stravinsky. Do not expect anything like the later spatial and spectral tone-cluster music that made Ligeti famous in the West.

I am of two minds when it comes to Carl Nielsen (1865–1931). Hearing his name so often in hyphenation with Sibelius (like Debussy and Ravel), I could not imagine how or why anyone would pair these two composers who sounded to me so utterly different in style and musical speech. Moreover, I was (and still am) a Sibelian to the core, and I was mystified that Nielsen, who seemed quite the inferior of the two, could be held up as an equal. Well, that was a long time ago, and before I really applied myself to learning Nielsen’s music. I still believe that Sibelius was the greater of the two composers, but they are so different from one another that comparisons are not very instructive. I have long since come to appreciate Nielsen for the individual and special voice that was his.

His Wind Quintet, op. 43, from 1922, is testament to that unique voice. At nearly 25 minutes, it is a substantive and masterful work. The concluding Theme and Variations movement, especially, is not only a brilliant display of wind-writing technique, but really beautiful and moving music.

What can I say about the Quintett Wien? These five musicians are more than masters of their craft; they come together as a perfectly blended ensemble that breathes as a single living organism. Truly magnificent. Nimbus captures them in an acoustic that is open and radiant, but not reverberant. I know that I will be playing this CD many times over.

Jerry Dubins, FANFARE

Classical Music

Classical Music

Includes symphony(-ies) by Franz Joseph Haydn. Ensemble: Austro-Hungarian Haydn Orchestra. Conductor: Adám Fischer.

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

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Members of the Mosaiques together with Patrick Cohen reawakened us to the delight of yet another evolving genre in which Haydn, once again, had ‘to become original’, in their piano trio recordings on Harmonia Mundi (11/91, 9/93, 9/95 and 5/96); now the Vienna Piano Trio, following hard on the heels of their own excellent Dvorak and Beethoven Trios (9/97), fill in some of the gaps, in close, sometimes breathy, but always thrillingly true new recordings of four of the Haydn trios.

The Gipsy Trio may have been written in and for London, but this ensemble’s short, snappy bowing, stomping piano accents and, above all, uniquely instinctive fluctuations of tempo and pulse in the finale, locate the work unmistakably in the grape-treading, Romany heart of the Burgenland. The steps of the dance shape and pervade the ETrio, too, in the jauntily sprung rhythms of the opening Allegretto, and the splendidly boisterous and cross-accented Allemande of its finale.

Among countless other delights in these bold and addictive performances is the sensitivity to the power of silence, and the short, hushed half-tones within the long-breathed lines of the Andante of the A major Trio. And, not least, the perceptive understanding and judgement of the shifting qualities of an Allegro which so well supports the structure of the outer movements of the D major, as well as enabling many a clearly articulated yet fanciful variation in the Gipsy Trio.

-- Hilary Finch, Gramophone [12/1997]

Vladimir Feltsman has a long-established reputation as a major artist. His 1987 arrival in the United States (after a seven-year shutdown of his career by Soviet authorities) was greeted with loud huzzahs. His first American recital took place at the White House, and his ensuing Carnegie Hall debut was recorded in its entirety. His repertoire covers everything from Bach through the 20th century. Recording first for Melodiya, then for Sony, then Camerata, he has now made a great many recordings for Nimbus since 2008.


These seem to be Feltsman’s first recordings of Haydn; his readings are very personal, as if he were trying to be different from every other performance or recording. There are many unmarked and unexpected tempo changes, some amounting to Luftpausen more appropriate to mid-19th-century music. Such playing can be either invigorating in its freshness or cloying in its fussiness; it would no doubt upset period practice purists. As a long-time lover of conductor Willem Mengelberg’s erratic ways, I would expect to be open to Feltsman’s performances, but I can be invigorated and exasperated by the same passage on succeeding days. I am bothered by Feltsman’s wildly inconsistent playing of the C-Minor Sonata, but maybe that’s just me: I have never been satisfied with any performance and am not even sure what I want from this often recorded piece. The only pianist to come close is Youri Egorov, yet I cannot cite anything special in his recording; he just plays it straight, offering no special insight.


I listen again as I write this, and I continue to be disturbed by the dichotomy: Such magnificent pianism takes the breath away, yet such inappropriate music-making almost loses Haydn. Then comes the opening Presto of the E-Minor Sonata: Feltsman understands well that the vibrancy of a Presto is never based on speed alone. Every mark in the score is faithfully observed, the clarity and sheer life of the playing are inimitable; there is only one slight slowdown at an internal cadence, and a thrilling virtuoso flourish—lasting less than a second—is tossed into the second repeat. I could keep, and recommend, this two-CD set for this one track. But the following Adagio is filled with bluster and virtuoso posturing (in his program notes, Feltsman calls it “elaborate ornamentation in the manner of C.P.E. Bach.”), and the final Vivace molto wanders fitfully, searching in vain for its true character. So it goes throughout both discs. Listening again to the C-Minor Sonata, Feltsman produces a lovely, yearning character in the opening measures, but after a minute or so his odd phrasings, unexpected pauses, and sudden violent attacks spoil the mood.


The opening Andante con espressione of the C-Major Sonata is fascinating here. Feltsman’s left hand is leonine, like nothing since Cliburn. But a cutesy twist of the three chords in measure nine breaks the spell before it has a chance settle in. In the Presto , there is an awkward moment during the repeat of measure 17 (at 0:37) that sounds like a too-tight edit, cutting a fraction of a second from the music. Nimbus’s trademark reverberance is too much for this tempo, blurring what seems to be pristine pianism. The Eb Variations are gentle, subtle music, and Feltsman has a strong feeling for them. There is not a single virtuoso excess in its 17 minutes.


It’s clear that Feltsman can do anything he wants at the keyboard, and do it better than almost anyone else. One constantly receives the impression that one is listening to a dominant artist. But his style of playing generally does not suit Haydn—Sviatoslav Richter could get away with it because he was so sensitive to every type of music. It works on and off for Feltsman. I equate his playing with Nimbus’s recorded sound: both are brilliant but overdone, too glittering, too shiny. Has any piano ever sounded this bright, with a tiny halo around every note? The results are not for me, but that doesn’t mean they may not be for you. What I do recommend is that every piano lover hear these performances.


Postscript : The package is a single-CD-sized jewel case, but the swinging inner tray fell out every time I opened it. It’s long past time to abandon the fragile jewel case.

FANFARE: James H. North

Lou Harrison was born in Portland, Oregon in 1917. His musical style was shaped by the San Francisco of the 1930s. There he studied composition with Henry Cowell, and staged high profile percussion concerts with John Cage. He spent the year 1942-43 in Los Angeles where he studied with Arnold Schoenberg. In 1946, Harrison conducted the premiere of Ives's Third Symphony which he had edited from the manuscript score. The following year Ives was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for this work which he shared with Harrison.

During trips to Japan, Korea and Taiwan in 1961-62, he studied native instruments including the cheng and the p'iri. Back in California he enthusiastically presented concerts and lectures on Korean and Chinese music and experimented in his own works with hybrid instrumental ensembles. In 1975, Harrison began an intensive study of traditional Javanese gamelan techniques. He soon began to explore ideas of cross fertilization, adapting the concerto principle to the Indonesian orchestra by composing works for Western soloists accompanied by gamelan. Harrison died in Lafayette, Indiana, 2003, from a heart attack while on his way to a festival of his music at Ohio State University.

This 4 CD set brings together all the works recorded in the USA for the MusicMasters label during the early 1990s.

REVIEW:

Fans will be ecstatic that these recordings return to the catalogue; newcomers will find a lot of attractive low-density music that always sounds beguiling and is easy to live with.

-- Gramophone

Great stuff, undemanding and pleasing.

This is a lovely disc, and one that also plugs some important gaps in the repertoire. Hans von Bülow is known as an historical figure of some import, mainly as conductor. Piano pupil of Friedrich Wieck (Clara Schumann’s father) and Liszt, friend of Raff, teacher of Richard Strauss, Bülow was assisted by Wagner, no less, in his conducting career. He’s also known as the guy who lost his wife, Cosima, to Wagner.

The recital begins with the doleful Ballade, replete with Wagnerian chordal progressions. The piece becomes freer in discourse as it progresses, more quasi-improvised. There is a nice full-bodied sound, both from the pianist and from the recording. Anderson is a master of delineation, and there is some lovely balancing of strands - try the right-hand filigree around 3:40. Certainly it is a long piece, but Anderson somehow pulls it off. There are some distinctly Lisztian gestures around 6:40 - spread right-hand chords as part of a long cantabile line, for example. The impression is of superb pianism.

The Carnavale di Milano, subtitled “Ballabili e Intermezzi”, was inspired by the ballerina Elvira Salvioni, and the ten movements portray aspects of the dedicatee’s persona. There are ten dances and intermezzi, within which one (“Quadriglia”) is divided into six subsections. This piece lasts three-quarters of an hour, but is most appealing. The opening Polacca is Chopinesque and suave with some truly lovely shadings from Anderson. It is followed by a delightful Valse with a grand ending. This could be hammy if one is not careful - Anderson brings it off brilliantly. The Intermezzo is nicely exploratory - hesitant and teasing. If the six Quadriglia all seem much of a muchness, Anderson plays charmingly. The Mazurka is more interesting, more varied, and the Intermezzo lirico that follows is simply beautiful - it is subtitled “dancing sighs”. The Tarantella is properly virtuoso.

The short La Certa (The Lizard) is a Schubertian Impromptu that has been here gorgeously played and recorded. There is a wonderfully serene coda before the lizard scampers off. And to finish, the fun Marche héroïque on a theme by Erkel, from Hunyady László. Anderson teases the hiatuses in lines very pleasingly and there is an excellent drum - timpani roll - evocation. Great stuff, undemanding and pleasing.

There does not seem to be that much Bülow in the catalogues currently. It may be possible to find a disc on Marco Polo of Bülow’s transcriptions. This is played by Daniel Blumenthal on Marco Polo 8.223421. There’s also a disc on Oehms Classics OC 808 of songs by great conductors - Bruno Walter and Clemens Krauss being the others. Von Bülow’s tone poem Nirvana appears alongside orchestral works by Heger, Szell and Weingartner on Arabesque Z6752 (National Philharmonic of Lithuania/Leon Botstein).

-- Colin Clarke, MusicWeb International

Simple delight in well-crafted, unpretentious music-making.

These three CDs present, in almost chronological order, the complete piano music of a composer who will, I imagine, be unfamiliar to most readers. Carlos Guastavino was born in Santa Fé, the capital of the northern Argentine province of the same name. After studies at home and in Buenos Aires he achieved international recognition as a pianist, touring South America, the USSR and China, and giving broadcasts on the BBC in London. His musical language is firmly rooted in tradition, believing that music should be firmly based on singable melodies and tonal harmony and written for us now, not for the discovery of future generations.

The first three pieces are delightful. A fast dance, a slow atmospheric piece and a dedication to beautiful earth, beautiful country (Tierra Linda), a phrase often used to refer to Argentina itself, get this set off to a fine start. Easily approachable, delightful to listen to, difficult to play, Guastavino has the vernacular of his country’s music at his fingertips.

The Sonatina in G minor is a light hearted piece. Already Guastavino has started to simplify his style and the sheer exuberance of the finale is a joy. The Sonata of two years later is more serious in substance but equally easy going in language, and is only let down by a rather banal fugue in the middle of the finale, but a return to the colloquial material redeems this. And so it goes for this first CD.

The second CD contains two sets of ten pieces each. The Diez Preludios are well characterized pieces, being free, and simple, settings of children’s songs and very attractive they are too. Very short, they leave you wanting more. The Diez Cantilenas Argentinas which follow are much bigger pieces, more nationalistic in feel. The tempi are, in general, leisurely and the composer takes his time to make his point. These are lovely pieces, abstract in feel with a thicker texture than the Preludios, and much more filigree writing.

The final CD starts with a shock. Here is some strong, individual music, obviously from the same hand as the earlier pieces but with more character. Until now I was beginning to wonder if Guastavino’s style developed and was most pleasingly surprised with these Tres Romances Nuevos (Three New Romances), although there are only two! Pueblito, mu pueblo, Cancion Argentina is a step backwards, being a later arrangement of a very early song, but with Las Presencias (Appearances) and Mis Amigos (My Friends) we reach Guastavino’s mature style, and most attractive it is. These fifteen short pieces are portraits of friends (some imaginary!) and they are light and delicate, full of colour and a real feel for the south. It really was worth waiting for these prizes. The final set of Popular Songs presents the most effective treatment of simple material with a childlike effortlessness.

If you’re expecting highly rhythmic, heavily accented Argentinian music of the Ginastera type, or the slinky, sexy tangos of the great Astor Piazzolla then this is not for you. What Guastavino gives us is South America through a late 19th – early 20th century European compositional style, but with the voice of the Americas always to the fore. This is not a set for playing from start to finish in one sitting, but there’s enough music of interest, and variety within the small style, here for many enjoyable visits.

Martin Jones is a fine, and always reliable, pianist so I have no doubt that his performances are of the first order, they certainly sound most authoritative - I have never seen the music so am relying entirely on my ears! - and I suspect the thoroughly enjoyed himself when recording these most enjoyable works.

The booklet is excellent, Calum MacDonald’s twelve pages of biography and discussion of the music are all one could want in helping you through music which is new to you.

Well worth having for the simple delight in solid, well crafted and unpretentious compositions and music making.

-- Bob Briggs, MusicWeb International

French organ music from the period of Louis XIV to the Revolution has always held fascination for performers and listeners alike. The kaleidoscope of colours, the rich and varied styles, and the sheer exuberance of the music never fail to captivate. Yet, performance practice of this music has never been fully understood. David Ponsford has spent much of his career studying this repertoire, resulting in his book French Organ Music in the Reign of Louis XIV (Cambridge University Press, 2011). The present series of recordings on the most important historical organs in France, including the music of Guillaume-Gabriel Nivers, Louis Couperin, Nicolas de Grigny, Louis Marchand, Louis-Nicolas Clerambault, up to composers of the Revolution such as Balbastre, Beauvarlet Charpentier and Lasceux, is therefore the fruit of many year of research by a seasoned performer whose aim is to combine technical brilliance with intellectual understanding, to bring the music alive with authority and meaning.

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REVIEW:

This double CD is a must-have.

– Choir & Organ