This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

Frank Peter Zimmermann is featured here in the virtuoso Sibelius Violin Concerto, one of the most spectacular late Romantic works in its genre. Its dazzling finale has been described as an 'invocation' filled with 'demonic passion'. Also, the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra under chief conductor John Storgards performs two powerful tone poems by the same composer, The Bard and The Wood Nymph - works that were premiered by the same orchestra a century ago, conducted by Sibelius himself.

The fourth album on Ondine by the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir is dedicated to the composer’s complete works for mixed choir. The award-winning choir, one of the finest of its kind internationally, is conducted here by leading Finnish choir director Heikki Seppänen. Choral music was a genre in which Sibelius showed interest from his student days to the near close of his life. This double-disc set includes patriotic works, works closely connected to the Finnish national epic Kalevala, student works, Christmas songs, works based on Finnish poetry, works written for school (including Three Songs for American Schools) as well as works written for academic promotions, inauguration ceremonies and different official occasions. It also includes two versions of the famous Finlandia Hymn. The Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir’s first Ondine release was given an ‘Editor’s Choice’ by the Gramophone Magazine and ‘Disc of the Year’ by German weekly Die Zeit.

REVIEW:

The Finnish choral tradition was rich and active when Sibelius came of age as a composer in the late 1880s, and he wrote choral works all his life. The pieces on this rewarding recording range from folk songs suffused with Finnish character to enigmatic works with sometimes dark lyrics. There are festival and school songs, patriotic anthems, a cantata for an academic degree ceremony and, inevitably, two versions of “Finlandia.” Most of the pieces are a cappella. Many unfold in clear, block-chord settings of the texts. If you want to stump friends with a guessing game, play the beguiling, slightly strange “Glade of Tuoni” from this recording and ask them to identify the composer. You’ll win, as you will by picking up this album.

– New York Times

Dmitri Hvorostovsky's fourth release on Ondine features a program of rarely recorded sonnets by Dmitri Shostakovich and Franz Liszt. Hvorostovsky is accompanied by his longtime duo partner, the Estonian pianist Ivari Ilja. Shostakovich's sonnets, considered one of the achievements of contemporary Russian vocal music, were composed as his health worsened and are filled with ruminations on mortality. Liszt's sonnets are based on love poems by the Italian Renaissance writer Petrarch. Both Hvorostovsky and Ilja brin great empathy to these compositions, matching the contemplative nature of both with quietly powerful and confident performances.

REVIEW:

Hvorostovsky offers searching readings of Shostakovich's rugged, jagged songs which are full of resignation and bittersweet regret, of loss and separation. There are few things finer than Hvorostovsky in full flight and Liszt’s Petrarch Sonnets allow him the chance to open up the Italianate warmth in his baritone, with impassioned accounts, especially of Sonnet 47.

– Gramophone

REVIEW:

Is Gerald Finley today’s Fischer-Dieskau? I don’t mean to suggest that their voices sound alike—or that they share an interpretive perspective. But like his predecessor, Finley is comfortable in opera, oratorio, and song; his repertoire stretches from the Baroque period through Schubert and Wagner to the present; his sense of musical phrase is unfailing; he’s got a sensitivity to literary nuance, coupled with a clarity of enunciation, that few singers can match; and most important of all, his interpretations, for all their emotional immediacy, are marked by an astonishing level of intellect and care. He’s heard in peak form on this new release.

Pride of place goes to the most familiar work, the Suite on Poems by Michelangelo . Written at the very end of Shostakovich’s life, it shares the death-drenched aura of his other late compositions. Still, it has more variety than either of the major works that flank it, the 15th Quartet and the Viola Sonata; and Finley has the tact necessary to bring out its range of expression without in any way diluting its over-riding bleakness. The subtle despair of “Verità,” the sense of wonder in “Mattina,” the anger of “Ira,” the chisel-against-stone defiance of “Creatività”: Finley captures it all with an unfailing strength of character that never loses its sense of refinement. He’s especially skillful when it comes to sustaining long lines (say, in “Notte”) and in maintaining the shape of the recitative-like passages (say, in “Distacco”). He gives the 1943 Romances on English Poetry the same finely kaleidoscopic quality—note, for instance, how he catches the varying shades of desolation in “Sir Walter Raleigh to His Sonne” or of the bitterness in “Macpherson’s Farewell.” And he’s just as comfortable and convincing in Shostakovich’s 1944 orchestration of Annie Laurie , performed with utter simplicity. Thomas Sanderling’s lifetime of experience with Shostakovich pays off in the sureness of the accompaniments.

Although Fischer-Dieskau’s first recording of the Suite , with pianist Aribert Reimann, used Italian texts, Finley’s is apparently the first recording of the orchestral version to do so (hence my choice of the Italian, rather than the Russian, titles of the songs). It also offers what’s advertised as the first recording of Annie Laurie —and the first recording of the Romances to use the large-scale 1943 orchestration (long thought lost) rather than the original 1942 piano accompaniment or the chamber-orchestra version that Shostakovich made late in his life. (To add to the discographic rarity here, the performances of the Romances use the English originals rather than the Russian translations that Shostakovich set). Details of the various editions and their histories are provided in Marianna Kankare-Loikkanen’s informative contribution to the program booklet, which also includes an essay by Finley called “Setting Michelangelo to Shostakovich,” which describes the issues involved both in finding the best texts (as a student, Finley himself studied medieval Italian) and in making the minor musical adjustments necessary so they fit. Good sound, too.

Given the particular choices of language and orchestration, of course, there’s really no competition for this release. Even with a bulging catalog, though, this would be a top priority.

-- Fanfare: Peter J. Rabinowitz

• With this release Ondine presents two dramatic works by Dmitri Shostakovich, The Execution of Stepan Razin and the Zoya Suite, coupled with his Suite on Finnish Themes.
• The Execution of Stepan Razin, premiered in Moscow in 1964, got a mixed reception. The execution scene and the final, tragic vision is simply spine-chilling: Stepan Razin’s bloody head rolls to the ground and bursts out laughing at the Tsar. Capturing rich intonations and melodies of the text, the bass soloist and the chorus engage in a multi-layered dialogue of this very theatrical work.

Andrejs Selickis (b. 1960) is a singular, idiosyncratic phenomenon among Latvian composers. As with Arvo Pärt, Selickis’ work is inseparably linked to his faith, which has found a deep and unique expression in his distinct style. Iconic symbolism, sacred archetypes and the ecstatic experience of God’s presence are the keys to his music. This new recording by the Latvian Radio Choir includes choral works by Selickis.

Andrejs Selickis grew up and studied music in Latvia, when a crucial meeting with Arvo Pärt took place in the 1970s. Arvo Pärt became a mentor and an example for the composer, both in life and in music. After Pärt emigrated from the Soviet Union, Selickis’ found new home in his church. Selickis has worked as an independent artist since graduating from the conservatory. He lives in Riga and serves as a regent, liturgist and psalmist in various congregations of the Church. In 2015 he was awarded the Latvian Great Music Award, the highest state honor in music. The creative collaboration and friendship between Sigvards Klava and Selickis began in 2012 with the Litany to Mother Teresa, the first composition with which Andrejs Selickis entered active concert life. Together, Klava and Selickis have studied and sung Old Believer chants and have also set out pilgrimages to various monasteries. The present album serves as a resume of the creative collaboration between the Latvian Radio Choir, Sigvards Klava and Andrejs Selickis.

REVIEW:

This robust, energetic recording of the three Schumann sonatas follows the duo’s recording of Mozart sonatas, a recording that was honored both by Gramophone and by the BBC Music Magazine . In my collection, it joins the 2006 Schumann recording by Jennifer Koh and the recording of the first two sonatas by Gidon Kremer with Martha Argerich. It’s regrettable, but understandable, that Kremer and Argerich didn’t record the Third Sonata alongside the more favored first two. The Third Sonata was hidden from view for most of a century. It was Clara Schumann who not only expressed her disapproval of the Third Sonata, but suppressed it; it was published only in 1956.

What is odd about that is that she adored the first two sonatas. Schumann composed the first in five days in 1851. In her diary, Clara wrote that she couldn’t wait to play it: “I could not rest, I had to try Robert’s new sonata at once. We played it and felt especially moved by the very elegiac first movement and the lovely second movement.” She proclaimed the second “wonderfully original, with a depth and magnificence that I have hardly ever heard before.” Clara found the Second Sonata overwhelming. The Third Sonata was different: Schumann famously decided that he, Brahms, and Albert Dietrich should all write movements to present to the violinist Joseph Joachim. Only later did Schumann finish the piece. It’s still considered problematic. From its harsh opening on, it’s a temperamental work that sounds, according to this duo, easier to play than it is.

Tetzlaff and Vogt sound fully committed to Schumann’s lyricism, and occasional eccentricity. They play passionately, and with attention to the composer’s sometimes fleeting moods. They make as much out of the often whimsical sounding twists and turns of the music as does anyone. Tetzlaff has a full, rich, impassioned tone, and Vogt is equally forthright. Not everyone is a fan of the later Schumann compositions; I am ambivalent. But certainly they deserve the respectful, skilled, and musical performances we hear on this disc.

-- Fanfare: Michael Ullman

Following Lars Vogt's massively popular recording of Bach's Goldberg Variations, this new recording features much-loved piano works by Franz Schubert. Vogt was appointed the first ever "Pianist in Residence" by the Berlin Philharmonic in 2003-2004 and enjoys a high profile as a soloist and chamber musician. Schubert's Impromptus, D. 899 and the famous Moments musicaux are some of his most well-known pieces that are featured on this release.

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

Aulis Sallinen (1935) is one of the internationally most well-known Finnish opera composers. At home with large scale works, his Kullervo opera is considered by many his greatest achievement in the field of opera. This re-issue, recorded in 1991 prior to its 1992 world-premiere performance, includes a truly stellar cast of Finnish opera singers with Jorma Hynninen singing the title role of Kullervo. Other singers in prominent roles include Eeva-Liisa Saarinen, Matti Salminen and Jorma Silvasti.

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.

A likely masterpiece from Finland joins new music from scintillating Saariaho

Kaija Saariaho is the Finnish composer, alongside Magnus Lindberg, who most excites me at present. Like her fellow countryman, she finds textures that feel absolutely fresh, vibrant and full of colour. Her journeys of imagination here are gripping. And it’s good to see such high-profile performers in new music – perhaps especially the sublime Karita Mattila.

-- Gramophone [11/2008]

SAARIAHO Notes on Light.1 Orion. Mirage1,2 • Christopher Eschenbach, cond; Anssi Karttunen (vc);1 Karita Mattila (sop);2 O de Paris • ONDINE 1130 (63:22)

Kaija Saariaho writes exciting music. At one time associated with the spectral school of composition, in which spectra, the harmonic fingerprints of sound, were used to generate new works, she’s been able to assimilate and then transcend such a purely analytical approach to arrive at her present individual, communicative language. In the past, she’s also broadened her palette with electronics. Her vivid music is characterized by an acute sense of color and texture, allied to a sure feeling for form and pacing. Melody, too, plays an important part. Although there are no big tunes to whistle, the musical flow can be lyrical, even rhapsodic. At times, an almost oriental melisma wafts through the music: at others, what I would call “proto-melodies” (four or five note phrases) accrete to form larger modules, most notably in Orion.

Notes on Light, Saariaho’s cello concerto, often projects a mysterious mood. Glissandos of varying lengths in cello and orchestra, and a line that sways and sighs as it evolves and devolves suggest a yearning, or questing aspiration. The evocative title comes from T. S. Eliot’s The Wasteland, and inspired Saariaho’s vision of the cello as a source of light. The energetic second movement stands apart from the rest, with swift, downward cascades in tuned percussion and flute mirrored by exuberant, upward-winging piccolo flurries. These effects, plus the churning cello, create a drive and momentum distinct from the slower, exploratory nature of the other four movements. That’s not to say that the rest of the concerto is placid, or without internal drama. Throughout, Saariaho skillfully deploys her “transparent” orchestra in often-delicate counterpoint to the soloist.

Orion finds Saariaho reveling in larger forces, with more brass (there are no trumpets and trombones in the concerto) and even organ: some of the climactic moments must be quite overwhelming in person. Unifying thematic elements link the three movements. A subtle pulse as Orion begins arrests the attention, drawing the listener into this “constellation” of sound. Gradually, ideas and images coalesce, until the orchestra achieves a monumental presence worthy of the young god. The volume waxes and wanes, but the overall impression is massive. The second movement’s texture is primarily diaphanous, although heavier “clouds” of sound arise before the ethereal conclusion. A piccolo plays a pastoral tune over a dreamily shimmering background, ushering in a violin solo that could be a distant cousin to Shéhérazade. This gives way to an exotic, sinuous clarinet and oboe, and so it goes, one colorful episode succeeding another. The third movement starts out like Notes on Light’s second, but becomes even more wild and tempestuous. Trumpets, swirling winds, and scintillating strings fluoresce, illuminating the orchestral landscape. The storm eventually subsides, its mass floating away, the last note struck by a single triangle.

Mirage is a passionate setting of the “song” of a Mexican woman, shaman, and healer who, in this ecstatic musical incarnation, affirms her being while summoning the forces that pass through her to effect her cures. Karita Mattila brings Saariaho’s hypnotic score to vibrant life, swooping and gliding effortlessly, imparting a palpable exaltation. From the first half-whispered “I am” one is swept up and riveted by this spellbinding performance. The cello is an equal partner in Mirage, probing at the opening, acquiring confidence, and increasing in strength until it joins with the voice in its voyage of discovery. The two dip and soar in tandem, although the melodic outline is not identical.

Mattila and Karttunen are superb musicians who are perfectly attuned to Saariaho’s style. Their long friendship with the composer guarantees informed, sympathetic performances, and it would be difficult to imagine better ones. Eschenbach and the orchestra support the soloists beautifully in Notes on Light and Mirage, and contribute stunning playing in Orion. Saariaho’s many admirers will enjoy these latest additions to her discography, while anyone who’s been afraid to dip a toe into contemporary waters should consider taking the plunge, for while undeniably “modern,” the music’s range of expression, melodic flexibility, invention, and pervasive color make it immediately accessible. While not neo-Romantic by any means, it’s nonetheless music that manifests beauty and feeling in every note.

FANFARE: ROBERT SCHULSLAPER

REVIEWS:

The Third Symphony was...favored by Karajan in the 1950s. It was the product of a composer in his sixties writing in his Normandy home at Vasterival. It was premiered by the Boston SO and Koussevitsky on 24 October 1930. The thud and thunder of the first movement contrasts with the pastoral melancholy meditation of the Adagio. This is followed by the fairground pleasantry of the Vivace and the massive fountains of exultation of the last movement. No wonder the audience - whose applause forms part of the track - greeted this performance with such warmth.

Le Festin is here given complete across 21 tracks. You are likely to enjoy this music - if you do already know it - if you already number Ravel's Ma Mère l'Oye and Debussy's Prélude a l'après midi d'un faune among your favorites. It has the magical elegance of the Ravel and the sultriness of the Debussy. Add to this the motorized thunder of Roussel's last two symphonies. It is superbly recorded - listen to the whispering distant gold of the violins in The Ants Dance in a Circle (tr. 16). The instrumental howls in the Funeral of the Gadfly (tr. 24) are memorable. Also in the same movement how similar some of the writing is to Ravel's dawn rustlings in Rapsodie espagnole. Those gentle rustles from the tam-tam suggest Ma Mère l'Oye. Eschenbach heartbreakingly captures the valedictory melancholy of Night falling on the deserted garden but brings out the solace too. This makes for an easy full price choice - poetically done in every aspect.

– Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

The liner notes for this release make the argument that French modernist Albert Roussel was the greatest composer of his time. It is an argument Christoph Eschenbach and the Orchestre de Paris do much to advance in these live performances. Coupling Le Festin de l'araignée from 1912 and the Symphony No. 3 from 1930, Eschenbach and the Parisian orchestra give Roussel's music the kind of clear-eyed, strong-willed performances that make the most of the composer's best features. Though distinctly of its prewar time, Le Festin de l'araignée nevertheless sounds brightly colorful, lightly ironic, and surprisingly inventive in this smoothly polished and vigorously rhythmic performance. The postwar Third Symphony sounds both of and above its time here, its angular themes, gleaming colors, and muscular rhythms brilliantly brought out by the German conductor and the French orchestra. If Eschenbach and the Parisian musicians' racing finale for the symphony, with its relentless polyrhythms, doesn't get your heart pumping, consult a doctor immediately. Recorded in vibrant live sound complete with appreciative applause, these performances may well convince the listener that Roussel is indeed underrated.

– James Leonard, All Music Guide

RESPIGHI Concerto in modo misolidio 1. Fountains of Rome • Sakari Oramo, cond; 1 Olli Mustonen (pn); Finnish RSO • ONDINE 1165 (53:53)


Sakari Oramo and his Finnish forces give us a sensitive if not outstandingly atmospheric performance of the earliest of Respighi’s Roman trilogy, the Fountains of Rome of 1916. The big moments are somewhat hampered by a lack of string power. The violins do not contribute as much as they should to the climax of the third movement (“Fontana di Trevi al meriggio”) and, unfortunately, the success of these Roman tone poems lies in balancing the weight of the fortissimos against the quiet passages of impressionistic introspection. The latter are meltingly played, with details like the distant church bells in the “Fontana di Villa Medici” perfectly balanced.


The main work on this disc is a rarity. Completed in 1925 and premiered in New York under Mengelberg, the Concerto in Mixolydian Mode is a large-scale Romantic piano concerto imbued with medieval church harmonies. Much of the first movement sounds like an extended fantasia on Debussy’s Engulfed Cathedral , beginning as it does with a chorale in full chords stated by the soloist. (The theme is based on the traditional introit for the Mass of Ascension Day.) The mixolydian mode is close to the major scale—only a flattened seventh differentiates them—and the piano’s first entry avoids that note, sounding for all intents and purposes to be in a major key. Gradually, modal harmony creeps in as the composer’s evocation of an earlier era is established.


Respighi’s concept of medieval times was, let us say, the polar opposite of Pasolini’s bawdy, earthbound vision; the composer envisaged the period as one of grandeur and ecclesiastical solemnity. These are the overriding characteristics of the lengthy first and second movements, which work their way through a number of musical episodes at an unhurried pace. In the second movement, the piano part becomes increasingly decorative, adding a glittering veneer to the basically sedate proceedings. Momentum is finally achieved in the passacaglia finale, but for all their lushness and lyricism it is probably the lack of impetus in the first two movements (totaling 27 minutes) that keeps Respighi’s concerto out of the repertoire. His Concerto Gregoriano for violin and orchestra of 1922, similarly based on ancient church modes, is more successful, though it too has its longeurs, while his 25-minute Toccata for piano and orchestra (1928)—another piano concerto in all but name—is saved by its spectacular final movement.


I have no wish to write this work off, however. There is a case to be made for it, and these musicians make that case convincingly. Olli Mustonen plays with uncharacteristic legato . Listen to his limpid interpretation of the first movement’s closing solo (around 15:30); this is certainly not the pianist who pecks his way through Beethoven. His lightness of touch in the passagework of the finale is a delight. This is very much a concerto where soloist and orchestra work as a partnership, and under Oramo the Finnish RSO contributes strong and often subtle support. The sound is clear and vivid. Previous recordings by Tozer and Scherbakov have been praised, but I cannot imagine them being superior in any way to this one. Recommended as a disc that could easily grow on you.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott


Respighi was proud of his Concerto in modo misolidio, and rightly so. It's a beautiful work, full of attractive melodies and effective writing for the soloist, and it deserves more exposure on the concert stage than it gets. This is hands down the best performance it has received thus far on disc. It's so typical that Mustonen (rather like Leopold Stokowski), who can be so perverse in his performances of the standard repertoire, offers such a faithful rendering of the piano part when confronted with a novelty item. This isn't to suggest that his performance lacks imagination or spirit: just the opposite. However, Respighi gives the soloist so much to do (much of the part is written on three staves) that there's certainly less room to fool around gratuitously, and so Mustonen doesn't.

The main competition in this work comes from Tozer/Downes on Chandos, a good performance that nonetheless sounds more than a touch stodgy next to this one. It takes some five minutes longer, almost all of it the central slow movement and concluding passacaglia. Mustonen and Sakari Oramo's extra energy in these movements pays huge dividends, effectively belying any view of the work as pretty but formally ungainly and lacking excitement. This is certainly the version to choose to get to know the concerto, particularly if you're coming to it for the very first time.

Only the coupling prevents this disc from getting the very highest rating. Actually, this is an excellent performance of Fountains of Rome, very well played, and glitteringly captured by the engineers. But there are many such, and it's a skimpy disc-mate, bringing total playing time only to 53 minutes. It would have been so much nicer to have some more neglected Respighi--my vote would have gone to a new version of Metamorphoseon, which shares a similar aesthetic to that of the piano concerto, or perhaps even the similarly modal Concerto gregoriano for violin. Still, as the finest version available of the main item, this disc will be self-recommending to Respighi fans (and piano buffs too).

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com