This recording brings together the works of seven composers who were born in Russia between 1882 and 1900. Five of them – Roslavets, Feinberg, Stanchinsky, Protopopov and Mosolov remained in Russia. Two – Obukhov and Lourié – emigrated to France after the Revolution of 1917. Nowadays, these composers are often called “Forgotten Russians” because their works are rarely performed and their names unknown outside a narrow circle of specialists and people interested in Russian art of the first quarter of the twentieth century. Pianist and conductor Vladimir Feltsman is one of the most versatile and constantly interesting musicians of our time. His vast repertoire encompasses music from the Baroque to 20th-century composers. A regular guest soloist with leading symphony orchestras in the United States and abroad, he appears in the most prestigious concert series and music festivals all over the world. A dedicated educator of young musicians, Mr. Feltsman holds the Distinguished Chair of Professor of Piano at the State University of New York, New Paltz, and is a member of the piano faculty at the Mannes College of Music in New York City. He is the founder and Artistic Director of the International Festival-Institute PianoSummer at SUNY New Paltz, a three-week-long, intensive training program for advanced piano students that attracts major young talents from all over the world.

The whole programme, the lively and the reflective, is very well performed.

The very welcome resurgence of the Nimbus and Lyrita labels has restored many treasures to the catalogue. This is emphatically one of them – an hour of music from medieval and early-Renaissance Provence on a recording to sit back and enjoy. Technically, this and the other recordings made by the Martin Best Consort and Ensemble are not reissues, since they are again available with their original catalogue numbers and still at full price. Almost five years after Nimbus got back on its feet, it is incredible that their recordings are not featured in the 2008 editions of either the Penguin Guide or the Gramophone Guide. I hope that the current review will partly redress that unfortunate situation.

The recording covers a number of themes, as stated in the sub-titles. The overall tone of the programme is lively, though with some reflective interludes. The texts are in Occitan, the medieval language of Provence, and Latin.

The first section deals with love, not always of the courtly type. In Ne l’oseray-je the woman laments that she is to be married off to an uncouth peasant; the man complains that everything in the home seems to be for his wife’s benefit. In Dessus la rive a sailor tries to have his way with a young girl, who appears to get the better of him.

Track 3 brings us to the theme of fin amors or courtly love, but with the boot on the other foot – the woman’s rather than the man’s. Beatriz, La Comtessa de Dia, or Comtesse de Die, was one of several independent-minded medieval Provençal women who fought their corner in a male-dominated world. In A chanter m’er de so qu’ieu non volria (I must sing of that which I would rather not), the only piece by any of the trobairitz, or female troubadours, to have survived with its melody, she adopts the role usually taken by the male lover, complaining that she is compelled to sing about a love that consumes her for someone who does not value her.

This work is also included on an excellent Hyperion recording, Bella Domna: The Medieval Woman (Stevie Wishart with Sinfonye on the budget-price Helios label, CDH55207 review – a well-deserved Musicweb Bargain of the Month). Sinfonye perform the work unaccompanied and at a slightly more leisurely pace. Both performances work well, capturing a tone of regret, rather than anger, at the indifference of the beloved. If I marginally prefer the Hyperion, it is a very close call – Lilly Crabtree on Nimbus sings excellently. All the versions which I know give the text as chantar, which would seem to be correct Occitan, but Crabtree clearly sings chanter, as per the booklet.

Those wishing to know more about the trobairitz should consult Klinck A L and A M Rasmussen (eds.), Medieval Woman’s Song: Cross Cultural Approaches (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002). References to A chanter m’er are on p.8. Vecy le mai is a carole in rondeau form, one of those countless medieval celebrations of the month of May, "the merry month which stirs our hearts." Ma charmante cadet belongs to the chanson d’aventure type, though it omits the usual prefatory matter in which the man’s riding out is described; it represents a dialogue between a knight and a peasant girl who, as so often in such chansons, is his intellectual superior.

The sequence of free organum which follows allows a temporary respite from secular concerns. The term organum refers not to an organ accompaniment but to an early kind of polyphony in which the voices move at an interval against each other, usually at a fifth; in this case the technique is applied to a sung Alleluia into which the psalm text Justus ut palma has been inserted – "the righteous shall flourish like a palm tree." Those seeking to understand terms such as organum and polyphony will find lucid explanations in the Oxford Companion to Music. In any case, don’t be put off by these technical terms; just enjoy the music. A l’entrada del tens cler takes us back to familiar troubadour territory, the return of Spring. Li gelos chastises jealous men, while the Air de Cheval gives us a brief instrumental interlude.

Lancan li jorn is one of the most celebrated of troubadour cansos; in Jaufré’s text the lover longs with what the notes aptly describe as Michelangelo’s ‘divine discontent’, for his beloved in a far-off country. This piece is no less effective for its being viewed from the conventional male perspective. The note-writer thinks that Beatriz’s female-orientated version in A chanter m’er is somehow more ‘real’, but long experience has taught me never to be wholly convinced by circumstantial detail in literature – as when Rousseau retells Montaigne’s account of being knocked out by a rampaging animal, as if it were his own experience. Jaufre is just as convincing when his canso is sung as affectively as it is here.

In Ara Lauzata a lascivious monk wishes that the pretty girl he sees could be a beautiful nun encloistered in his house; he is obviously second cousin to some of the worldly clerics in the Carmina Burana, best known in Carl Orff’s arrangement, though the original medieval music has survived. The Sequence to St Peter and St Paul recalls us to the joyful praise which the monk should have been offering to the saints instead of the scurrilous thoughts to which he has given voice.

The Montpellier Motets are not all religious pieces – the term did not have that limited meaning originally. Pucelete/Je languis, Aucun and Lonc tans are all secular motets but Alle Psallite, which closes the sequence, is another eked-out Alleluia in praise of God. If you would like to investigate further the manuscript from which these pieces came, you could do much worse than to try the Anonymous 4 in Love’s Illusion: Music from the Montpellier Codex – a different style from that of Martin Best but equally enjoyable (Harmonia Mundi HMX290 7109, budget price).

Nightingales figured largely in medieval poetry and music. The first of the pieces entitled Rossignolet du bois asks if the nightingale has heard the voice of a village boy who wishes to be married but doesn’t understand how to behave in love. In the second the nightingale announces the arrival of Spring-time and love. In le Sodard, the soldier hears the nightingale sing that his love is dead. The lyrics are worthy of Housman’s Shropshire Lad and the music a rousing martial theme, played here with gusto, which contrasts with the soldier’s loss.

The Epiphany sequence Epiphaniam Domino is one of many such pieces contained in medieval missals, lengthy pieces which replaced the Gradual between Epistle and Gospel, very few of which survived the reforming zeal of the Council of Trent.

The final piece, Reis glorios, is a dawn-song, alba in Occitan, aubade in standard French. The words are spoken as if by the watchman who has been keeping guard over his master as he made love, but they are religious words, in praise of the Glorious King and His Holy Mother. The fine performance of this wonderful alba by Guiraut de Bornelh, named by Dante as the Master of the troubadours, makes an excellent conclusion to a very worthwhile programme, combining the secular and the spiritual, as the medievals did effortlessly.

The singing and instrumental playing throughout are excellent, in both the lively music – the courtly and the not so courtly – and the more reflective pieces. I leave aside the thorny issue of the extent to which such music should be accompanied. Regular readers will know that I have consistently given the highest praise to Hyperion’s budget-price Helios reissues of the recordings of Gothic Voices, who very rarely include an instrumental accompaniment. I trust that I shall not seem illogical in praising the Martin Best Consort, who do regularly employ such an accompaniment, in equal measure. There is certainly room for both approaches when such fine performers are involved; in any case, the accompaniments here are not overdone. Apart from the fact that the Gothic Voices reissues are at budget price, comparisons are odious – and there is no overlap, as far as I am aware, between this Nimbus recording and anything that Gothic Voices recorded: they concentrated on a mainly Northern French repertoire.

The recording is good – a little close, but that is not inappropriate in such music. The notes are informative, offering a general overview and individual notes on the separate tracks. Nimbus offer translations of all the works, but not the original texts. If only one could be included, I suppose that is the right way round, but I still think it a pity – medieval Provençal is not exactly a common enough skill for the listener to pick it up from hearing the CD. Hyperion are more generous in this matter: they always offer texts, albeit in minuscule form, including that of A chantar m’er in the booklet accompanying Sinfonye’s recording of Bella Domna. For convenience of those who buy the recording – many of you, I hope – I have included such original texts as I have access to, in an Appendix to this review.

Until recently, this CD was available with other Martin Best medieval recordings in a bargain collection. If you hurry, you may find that some dealers are still offering that set – a wonderful bargain. It was the original intention that I should review the collection but, although it is deleted in that form, Nimbus have kindly sent me the individual CDs to review. Watch out for reviews of the remaining volumes in due course.

-- Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International

Profiles of three Czech composers, each of whom was imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp: this is the somber premise of "Forbidden Music", an album helmed by the fantastic young English violinist Daniel Hope. Two of these three composers, Gideon Klein and Hans Krása, were imprisoned at Terezín (Theresienstadt); the third, Ervín Schulhoff, was interned not far away. As Hope writes in his introduction, all three wrote music that is "powerful, unsentimental, and uncompromising." It's a poignant joy to hear this trio of composers given their due by three passionate and intelligent interpreters.


Gideon Klein was 21 years old and already a precocious talent when he entered Terezín. A noted pianist, he was about to enroll at London's Royal Academy of Music when he was taken away. That same year, he penned his Duo for Violin and Cello, which stands as two movements: a spiky Allegro con fuoco and a richly colored, unfinished Lento. The most affecting of Klein's pieces, however, is his String Trio, completed nine days before he was moved to Auschwitz. (He died the next year at Fürstengrube, very shortly before the war's end). This three-movement work, built upon Moravian folk themes, is a powerful example of his talent, both in terms of harmonic sophistication (from a largely self-taught composer) and its keen sense of rhythmic dynamism.


Until his internment at Terezín in 1942, Hans Krása led quite a charmed life: his wealthy parents gave him an Amati violin while he was still a child; he was mentored by Alexander Zemlinsky as a student; and he became an assistant conductor in Prague under George Szell. The vamps of his Tanec (Dance) demonstrate both his cool-eyed worldliness and his idiomatic understanding of jazz rhythms--and it's a world away from the elegiac Passacaglia e Fuga for string trio (written in 1944, two months before he was moved to Auschwitz and gassed upon arrival). Krása begins with a sweet waltz, handsomely articulated by Hope, which is shortly transmogrified into a ghostly and then increasingly distorted version of itself. It's a truly chilling work, one that defies the sensibilities of Krása's most famous piece associated with Terezín, the children's opera Brundibár (which the Nazis used as showpiece propaganda).


The third composer showcased here is Ervín Schulhoff, who was interned not at Terezín, but at the nearby Wulzburg camp. The two works of his included here provide a greater context for the other music on this collection. 1925's brilliantly colored Duo for Violin and Cello, which was dedicated to Janácek, is replete with Czech and other folk undertones--particularly in the wild and technically demanding second-movement Zingaresca. Similarly, his 1922 Sonata for Solo Violin, masterfully played by Hope, winds its way through a panoply of moods, from a sizzling Allegro con fuoco to an elegant Andante cantabile. To end (and, in a way, consecrate) this disc, Hope includes his own arrangement of Ravel's Kaddish for solo violin. "Kaddish" is the Jewish prayer for the dead, and although brief, Hope's plangent eloquence speaks worlds about lives lost and mourned.


Although in many ways this is Hope's endeavor, his partners match him in technical mastery and emotional depth. The sound also is first-rate, the presence so realistic that you feel as if you're sitting next to the musicians. This album is an important project, and it receives the love and care that it deserves. [Editor's note: for an excellent recording of Krása's Brundibar, look for the version on Channel Classics, conducted by Joža Karas; for the most authoritative account of the Terezín story, read the book Music in Terezín 1941-1945 by Joža Karas, published by Pendragon Press.] [4/20/2004]
--Anastasia Tsioulcas, ClassicsToday.com

"...For Bridge enthusiasts there is no competition to this recording, which is therefore valuable in its own right."

The three composers represented on this compilation have little in common with each other apart from their nationality and the fact that they were largely neglected during the latter part of their lives and after their deaths. Of the three, Parry always kept a foothold on the repertory because of his choral music - although much of this substantial body of work remains unrecorded to this day - but the English Suite was a posthumous work edited after the composer’s death for performance by his pupil Emily Daymond and not performed until four years after his death, in a Prom outing after which it promptly sank without trace. Some of the ideas in the music date back to Parry’s heyday in 1894 but Daymond did her mentor no favours when she suggested that two of the seven movements of the suite could be omitted if the Suite was thought to be too long, and here the Caprice movement is indeed not given – as it was in Boult’s earlier 1971 recording for Lyrita. The work is hardly over-extended at under twenty minutes, and there would have been plenty of room for the additional movement. The later recordings in the catalogue, conducted by Richard Hickox and Adrian Leaper, also include the work complete and under the circumstances there seems little to recommend this cut version under Boughton unless the other works on the disc appeal.

Like Parry’s Suite, Finzi’s Eclogue was not published or performed until after the composer’s death, and the title was supplied by his editors. It was originally written in the 1920s as the slow movement of a piano concerto, but was revised some twenty years later to the form we now know. The first recording was made in 1977 under the indefatigable Vernon Handley and Peter Katin, but since then there have been a number of others. Martin Jones gives a very cool reading which emphasises the almost neo-classical style of the writing; one can imagine the work being played with more heated romantic fervour, but it nevertheless reveals all its crystalline beauty in this reading and the playing of the strings is beautifully refined. This is probably the best track on the disc; but the greater part of the collection really rests on the shoulders of Frank Bridge.

After his death, Bridge was even more neglected than Parry or Finzi; indeed, for many years he was only remembered for the fact that he had supplied the theme for Britten’s Variations, and there were more recordings of that piece in the catalogues than of any of Bridge’s own orchestral music. Britten himself recorded Sir Roger de Coverley with the English Chamber Orchestra in 1969 in the Snape Maltings, and the larger body of strings he employed made a more positive impression than Boughton manages here. It was not until Sir Charles Groves devoted a whole EMI LP to the orchestral music of Bridge in 1976 that the revival of the composer’s fortunes may be said to have been safely launched. Groves could sometimes be a rather stolid and sober conductor, but at his best he was capable of producing some superb performances – his recording of Delius’s Koanga remains unchallenged in the catalogue to this day, and his Bridge compilation was another of the highlights of his recorded repertoire. He included Cherry ripe and the Lament in his compilation, and two years later Boult gave us première recordings of Rosemary and Sally in our Alley; but this Nimbus disc was - so far as I can tell - the first to include recordings of the Canzonetta and the Irish melody. Indeed this remains the only available recording of the latter work in its orchestral form, since it was not even included in Hickox’s otherwise comprehensive survey of Bridge’s orchestral music for Chandos; the other recordings in the current catalogue are of the original string quartet version.

In terms of performances Boughton’s readings of Bridge are fine, but these are not by and large Bridge’s greatest works; indeed many of them are transcriptions for string orchestra of pieces that Bridge originally wrote for smaller forces, and many of them fall close to the category of ‘light music’ – if any music by Bridge could be so described. Boughton is just a little slower than his competitors Boult or Groves - to the advantage of the heartfelt Lament - but the differences in interpretation are minimal. The most substantial work here, There is a willow grows aslant a brook, is however something different again. This meditation on the death of Ophelia (in Hamlet) is one of Bridge’s most impassioned later works, and in terms of length and content it can hardly be categorised as a miniature. This is the only work on this disc which includes wind instruments, and it is also clearly the most ‘modern’ composition here; Boughton gives the music plenty of atmosphere. But there are many other recordings of this piece, and some of these - not least Hickox - give the music more substance.

The real attraction for Bridge completists - who will in any event presumably already possess all the Hickox recordings - is the orchestral version of the Irish Melody, which contains yet another arrangement of the (London)derry Air to set beside those of Grainger and Harty. It is quite a bit less conventional than the setting by Harty, but decidedly less so than some of the sometimes bizarrely chromatic versions in which Grainger indulged himself. Then again, this is not really a conventionally Irish tune; it fits no known Irish metre, and its history might lead to some suspicion as to whether it is really a traditional Irish melody at all. It was first published in 1855 (without words) and was supplied to George Petrie by Jane Ross who had arranged it herself for piano and merely stated that it was “very old”. However later researchers failed to uncover any trace of its origins, or any Gaelic words; the first poet to supply lyrics was Percival Graves for an 1882 setting by Stanford. Apparently Jane Ross, who was a conscientious collector of folk-songs, may have heard the song in Donegal - where her brother was a fisherman - rather than Derry itself. There remains a suspicion that she may actually have written the melody herself – perhaps more likely than an alternative explanation which attributes the tune to the fairies. Bridge’s arrangement is the central section of a piece that is quite substantial in length and depth; he adds a double-bass part to the original quartet version. One could imagine the work might be more effective with more players; the cellos at 1.32 and 2.16 sound rather thinner than ideal. For Bridge enthusiasts there is no competition to this recording, which is therefore valuable in its own right.

The recorded sound throughout is natural, and nicely resonant without being overblown.

- Paul Corfield Godfrey, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

Includes song(s) by Jean Belmont. Ensemble: Kansas City Chorale. Conductor: Charles Bruffy.

Includes work(s) for pno by Federico Mompou. Soloist: Martin Jones.

Fischer brings his Haydn cycle to a more than satisfying conclusion with this superb volume.

Adám Fischer and the Austro­Hungarian Haydn Orchestra go from strength to strength. This culminating volume of their Haydn symphony cycle – built up over 14 years – is in many ways the most enjoyable of all‚ not just because it covers a fascinating range of works written in the 1760s‚ when the young Haydn was busy experimenting‚ but in the performances too. In most previous volumes the advantages of Fischer’s cycle as against those of Antál Dorati’s ever­fresh pioneering Decca cycle‚ have been relatively slight. Here the new performances‚ with lighter‚ more transparent textures and generally faster speeds‚ take far more note of period practice while staying faithful to modern instruments. More than ever one registers the individual virtuosity of the various soloists in the orchestra‚ often challenged to the limit by fast speeds. So a movement such as the variation finale of No 31‚ The Hornsignal‚ features a sequence of brilliant soloists such as Haydn himself might have been writing for in the Esterházy orchestra – violin‚ cello‚ horn and so on‚ even double­bass. That symphony‚ in Professor Robbins Landon’s description one of the most spectacular of the early works‚ is here presented with panache‚ with the four horns braying out superbly‚ and the fast opening Allegro adding to the intensity. The immediately preceding symphony‚ No 30‚ nicknamed Alleluia after the chant quoted‚ is hardly less striking‚ the more so here when Fischer has adopted‚ with brilliant results‚ the option for this C major work of having trumpets and drums as well as horns – a later addition as Robbins Landon suggests in Volume 1 of his monumental Chronicle and Works (Thames &Hudson: 1976­78). The horns are prominent throughout these performances‚ helped by the recording balance‚ bringing out the boldness of inspiration. Symphonies Nos 30 and 31 evidently date from 1765‚ but generally the regular numbered sequence from the old Breitkopf edition is even more misleading than usual. So No 26 in D minor‚ Lamentation‚ another work that quotes a chant‚ is in the darkly intense Sturm und Drang style of the middle symphonies‚ where No 37 in C is evidently one of the earliest works here‚ dating from the brief period from 1759 when Haydn was Kapellmeister to Count Morzin. Fischer in the Lamentation Symphony again makes the music more biting with his emphasis on sharp dynamic contrasts and his very fast Allegro – faster even than with Christopher Hogwood in his period performance on L’Oiseau­Lyre (4/94). Even more strikingly‚ No 39 in G minor‚ the last of the numbered symphonies here‚ is a wonderful example of Sturm und Drang‚ enhanced by Fischer at the start by the way he exaggerates the pauses between the nervily tentative opening phrases‚ leading to the fierce and urgent Allegro. The finale too is vehemently Sturm und Drang‚ with its rushing strings and four horns‚ again brilliantly used as in the Hornsignal‚ No 31 – as Robbins Landon puts it‚ ‘a tight­fisted work’. Throughout this set Fischer consistently relishes the originality of scoring‚ as in the Trio of the Minuet of No 29 in E‚ where suddenly in E minor the horns in octaves hold a sustained note‚ an effect made the more eerie here with the strings stilling their vibrato in period style‚ as they regularly do in these performances. The Symphonies ‘A’ and ‘B’‚ the one dating from the Morzin period‚ the other from the early 1760s‚ make an apt supplement as they come from the same period. These are both works which were only identified as symphonies rather than string quartets when in recent years wind parts were discovered. Whether or not Fischer and his orchestra of selected players from Vienna and Budapest will go on to record other supplementary works and alternative versions (for another record company following Nimbus’s demise)‚ as Dorati did‚ theirs is a superb achievement‚ with the cycle of numbered symphonies now most satisfyingly completed.

-- Gramophone 1/2002

Classical Music

Clarinetist Emma Johnson is one of the few performers to establish a solo career that has taken her to major European, American, Asian, African and Australian venues. She is one of the UK's biggest selling classical artists and her recent recording of Brahms and Mendelssohn sonatas were described as "definitive...triumphant...a landmark disc". All of the works on this release were written with Johnson in mind, collaborating closely with her throughout the composition process.

Symphonic Ellington strides confidently.

Nimbus has been picking up MusicMasters’ catalogue and restoring some highly diverting things to the catalogue. This one is a case in point. Maurice Peresss and the American Composers Orchestra are joined by some elite soloists to set down estimable recordings of four of Duke Ellington’s suites - two well known and two markedly less so.

The best known of the quartet, Black, Brown and Beige, has been orchestrated by Peress. We can hear what has to be the baritone saxophone of Joe Temperley in this one, whose evocation of Harry Carney is appropriate yet manages to retain total tonal independence of the illustrious model. Temperley – and Eugene Moye, the cello principal of the orchestra and Walt Weiskopf, the alto player in the orchestra – are not mentioned on the jewel box credits but they are noted in the booklet. Richard Chamberlain cleaves closer to Tricky Sam Nanton in his role and altoist Frank Wess, very much his own man, takes the Johnny Hodges role. It’s true that the orchestral garb can somewhat blunt the pungency of the Ellington scoring but this alternative look at one of Ellington’s most impressive, albeit most contentious, scores is splendidly realised on its own terms.

Three Black Kings was once written off by James Lincoln Collier – himself no stranger to controversy – as "movie music." What I think got to Collier was the rather generic, piecemeal quality of this ballet suite. Ellington’s three songs here were King of the Magi, King Solomon and Martin Luther King and the soloist is Jimmy Heath on tenor and soprano saxophones. There are some feints toward the exotic East and everything – not least Heath’s articulate playing – is exceptionally pleasant. But I’m with Collier here – the music lacks real distinction; it’s fluent but melodically uninvolving and strangely naïve for Ellington. It’s no great surprise to realise that it was left incomplete on Ellington’s death.

New World A-Comin’ is like Black, Brown and Beige another wartime work, again heard here in Peress’ revision. Roland Hanna takes the Ellingtonian piano part, which has been transcribed from the 1943 concert performance; Hanna though improvises the final cadenza. There’s also an excellent solo from clarinettist Stephen Hart. Finally there is Harlem – for Jazz Band and Orchestra perhaps the most impressive, because the most sheerly integrated, of all. There is a stellar quartet of soloists to attend this one and they play with tremendous awareness and control. The seamless quality of Harlem is certainly apparent in this tremendous performance – the variety of moods and textures; the stylistic variety; and that drum solo, played with verve by Butch Miles. And to have alongside you, Jon Faddis, Ron Carter and clarinettist Bill Easley is no bad thing.

The recording quality back in 1989 was – and remains – first class and we also have the advantage of Peress’s own sleeve notes. Symphonic Ellington strides confidently in this re-release.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

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Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music