The Irresistible Karita Mattila

The final release of the George Enescu (1881-1955) symphony cycle includes two neglected masterpieces: the 1st Symphony filled with youthful energy and the poetic and lyric Symphonie concertante for Cello and Orchestra. The soloist of the Symphony concertante is the award-winning cellist Truls Mørk.

REVIEW:

Truls Mørk’s burnished, sweet tone fits very well into Lintu’s conception of the Symphonie Concertante that sees its soloist as part of the orchestral texture. Which isn’t to say that Mørk can’t be heard, but that Lintu takes pains to keep Enescu’s sometimes complex textures clear, and meet the cello as an equal rather than its accompaniment. This new release takes pride of place.

I obviously view the Silvestri First with great affection, preferring that conductor’s reading of the second movement to this one, but in all other respects Lintu and the Tampere Philharmonic are equal or superior to whatever else is out there where both works on this album are concerned; and Silvestri’s recording is light-years behind the sound on this CD. Once again, these Finnish musicians show a remarkably sympathetic understanding of the recondite qualities of one of the greatest of the last century’s composers. This release makes an excellent companion to their previous pair of discs. I can only hope they’ll turn their attention to Enescu’s other orchestral music, and in particular Vox maris. Strongly recommended.

-- Fanfare

Ondine is pleased to announce the first release with Austrian violinist Benjamin Schmid with a performance of Reger’s Violin Concerto and the Chaconne for Solo Violin. This release invites to listen to a captivating performance of Reger’s Violin Concerto, a hugely charming big romantic work with broad sentimental gestures.

JOULURAUHA - Christmas at Turku Cathedral

REVIEW:

As her career broadens and her artistry deepens, the Finnish mezzo-soprano Monica Groop shows herself to be a discriminating selector of pianists as well as of repertoire. Having worked with András Schiff and Rudolf Jansen (for Schubert), she is now partnered by Alexei Lubimov, whose strongly defined playing propels her into the ardent heart of the Zigeunerlieder for her new Brahms recital. Groop and Lubimov choose vividly contrasting tempos which heighten the red-blooded volatility both artists find in these songs. Throughout the disc it is the fervour and energy of Brahms’s writing which draws most from their performances: the impatience and indignation of ‘Des liebsten Schwur’, as Groop’s voice leaps high, and the passionate dialogue of ‘Von ewiger Liebe’.

-- Hilary Finch, BBC Music Magazine

Recorded at Inkoo Church, 9/1997

REVIEW:

Aarre Merikanto’s career divided broadly into three phases, those of apprentice, radical and conservative, and there are works from each present on this valuable new issue. Critical hindsight accords (quite rightly) that the brief radical phase, roughly corresponding to the 1920s, was the most valuable, though at the time Merikanto’s modernistic approach – and that of his like-minded contemporaries, Ernest Pingoud and Vaino Raito – was derided. Only one piece here represents this period, the highly accomplished tone-poem, Pan (1924), a wonderful, evocative, yet robust score, possessed of a very Nordic brand of impressionism. The playing of the Tampere orchestra is perhaps not quite as refined as the Finnish Radio Orchestra under Segerstam, but Ollila catches more of the dangerousness of the goat-footed deity.

Lemminkainen (1916), by contrast to Pan, seems immature, and rather parochial. A Sibelian shadow lies heavily across its quarter-hour duration, yet without a trace of the older composer’s own Lemminkainen tone-poems. There is little of the latter’s emotional and psychological depth – or musical range – but instead a prevailing rollicking good humour broken occasionally by quieter, more serious moments. The remaining works all date from the early stages of Merikanto’s post-modern period, when he reverted to a simpler, more accessible idiom. The Four Compositions (1932), which barely exceed Pan in length, nevertheless make a very effective and satisfying set, and whereas the Andante religioso (1933) seems like a piece out of context, the Scherzo (1937) is entirely convincing on its own. Taken together, these five works make a much more positive impression than did the rather uneven Pingoud works (Ondine, 2/98), especially in performances as sympathetic and well-recorded as these. Quietly recommended.

-- Gramophone [8/1998]

Ondine proudly presents two world premiere recordings: the guitar concertos by Kimmo Hakola and Toshio Hosokawa, featuring the dedicatee, guitarist Timo Korhonen, and the Oulu Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Santtu-Matias Rouvali. Having performed worldwide Timo Korhonen is one of the most acclaimed artists on his instrument.

This new release from the Latvian Radio Choir conducted by Sigvards Kłava features choral works by three Russian and Latvian composers: Yuri Falik, Artūrs Maskats and Georgy Sviridov. The disc’s themes range from love to nature to the sacred. Five of the works include solo parts sung by two notable Latvian singers, Aleksandrs Antoņenko and Eva Ezeriete. The title work of the recording, Sviridov’s Sacred Love, is a unique example of aesthetically beautiful vocal writing. Sigvards Kļava, since 1992 Chief Conductor and Artistic Director of the Latvian Radio Choir, is one of that country’s most prolific choral conductors. The Latvian Radio Choir is regarded as one of the top professional European chamber choirs. The Choir’s prior Rachmaninov’s All-Night Vigil (ODE 1206-5) was chosen as the Record of the Month, Editor’s Choice and received a nomination in the 2013 Gramophone Awards.

For their second release on Ondine, the acclaimed Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir under chief conductor Daniel Reuss perform Psalm settings by Felix Mendelssohn and Estonian composer Cyrillus Kreek. The first release of the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir was given an ‘Editor’s Choice’ accolade by Gramophone. Cyrillus Kreek, a graduate of the St. Petersburg Conservatory and a collector of folk songs, laid the foundation for Estonian professional music. The unique coupling highlights the familiarity between Mendelssohn and Kreek in terms of vocal and harmonic setting.

With this new release the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir under Daniel Reuss pay tribute to Max Reger (1873-1916) and Rudolf Tobias (1873-1918), a composer of the classical-romantic tradition and associated with the beginning of professional composition in Estonia.

Choral Concert: Finnish Radio Chamber Choir - Early Finnish

REVIEW:

"Early in the digital era, Tzimon Barto burst onto the scene with a large technique and photogenic looks. He still possesses both. His exotic name belies the fact that he was born in Florida; actually, he was born with the name Johnny Barto Smith, Jr. As a middle school student, he was overweight. Today he is a bodybuilder, and in addition to playing the piano, he is a poet and a philosopher. Formerly, he was a crack addict, but he has been clean since 2008—a transformation spurred, in part, by the sudden death of his young son.

His playing, which is never dull, has had its proponents and detractors. The latter, at least early on, usually would wring their hands over Barto’s musical insensitivity—the triumph of a brawny technique over interpretive subtlety. In recent years, however, Barto’s musicianship seems to have evolved. He still makes controversial, or at least unusual, choices, but now it’s hard to dismiss him as little more than a pounder or a banger.

There’s little danger of monotony in a Paganini-themed release such as this one, given the different approaches taken to the famous theme by Liszt, Brahms, Lutos?awski, and Rachmaninoff. Even so, Barto’s ebullient reading of the Brahms makes it sound more like Rachmaninoff than ever before, and I was reminded of the unlikely criticism—I don’t remember where I read it, however—that Brahms tried too hard to be popular. Barto really does play Brahms to the balconies, and it’s a lot of fun, if rather dark and demonic. The pianist’s heavy use of the sustaining pedal doesn’t allow for the most open of textures, however, and many will complain about how he conflates the two books of variations into one.

The Liszt Études, on the other hand, are surprisingly delicate (mostly), and sometimes even witty. If Barto’s Brahms stings like a bee, his Liszt often floats a hummingbird, to quote another part-time poet from the recent past. The “Octave” Étude (No. 2) feints and struts, and insinuates and shouts like a soundtrack to an old Tex Avery cartoon. “La chasse” (No. 5) is made to sound like Rameau. Barto also raises eyebrows by running the six études together with nary a pause.

Both parts of the Lutos?awski, a work for two pianos, were recorded by Barto, and assembled later. It’s a muscular reading, but the music responds well to an approach such as this, and the result is an unqualified success."

-- Fanfare: Raymond Tuttle

Sibelius, J.: Tempest Suites Nos. 1 and 2 / The Oceanides /

D. SCARLATTI Harpsichord Sonatas • Janne Rättyä (acc) • ONDINE 1232-2 (57:10)


After a couple of generic paragraphs about the music, mixing the usual, uninformative clichés with some eyebrow-raising opinions (“Scarlatti introduces a veritable history of Spanish music into his style and enables sonic invention to blossom from the dry soil of the harpsichord....”), the liner notes finally deal briefly with the question that might interest anyone curious about this album: why an accordion? The answer does not satisfy: “The nuanced attention to sonic shape at every moment of the melody, figure or gesture ... the stunning range of color....”


The accordion is a keyboard-based wind instrument. Its range of color is based on stops. If you’re looking for nuance and color, the piano is far better at it, because dynamics can be applied individually to each note. Dynamics on an accordion apply to all notes across the board at any given time by varying the degree of air pumped through the bellows. It’s safer to say what the liner notes in all their vague effusiveness never point out, that Janne Rättyä is an excellent classical accordionist who has collaborated with a host of modern composers, and understandably wants to claim some Baroque territory for his instrument as well.


How does this work out in practice? Rättyä is careful to select music that plays to the strengths of his instrument. The F-Minor Sonata, K 386, features lively two-part counterpoint, and the accordionist is an agile technician. He also plays several slower works, such as the well-known Sonata in C Minor, K 11, where a guitar-like, single-note melody is played in the right hand. This allows him a degree of freedom with dynamics, and also reveals his sensitivity in phrasing. He shows himself of much of the same mind as harpsichordist Richard Lester, with his flexible, folk-inflected tempos, rather than more Italianate performances in Scarlatti’s keyboard music that emphasize consistent rhythms. Some of the moderate tempo pieces benefit from a similar treatment. The E-Major Sonata, K 135, sounds very playful here, without losing its forward pulse, and the pastoral-like G-Major Sonata, K 13, is picked out with grace.


I find matters less successful when Rättyä tries to push beyond these boundaries. The popular F Minor Sonata, K 519, and D-Minor Sonata, K 52, are muddy in their bass voicings, because the instrument’s rounder tone blends the notes of the chords rather than allowing them to stand out distinctly. But in general, the album hews to the plan laid out above: faster, two-part counterpoint pieces, and slower ones with a simple single-note melody in the right hand. This makes for a certain monotony, since there’s far more to Scarlatti than that, but a few selections at a time make for attractive listening. Up to you.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal


The truth is that Rättyä does some amazing things from a purely mechanical point of view: some of the quicker sonatas, such as K.386 in F Minor, have seldom been played more accurately on any instrument, and the accordion’s near total absence of resonance makes it impossible for the player to hide. You just have to keep going. It’s like getting stuck on a roller coster. In slower, more emotionally affecting music the instrument frankly sounds silly. Strike that–it sounds silly everywhere, but give Rättyä credit for taking this project completely seriously and doing everything that he can with the limited resources that he’s stuck with. He even arranges the sonatas into quasi-scholarly groups by key, although he’s limited to C, F, E, G and D (major and minor). The sonics are terrific."

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com