‘Neglected Treasures’ is the second release on Ondine by Anastasia Injushina, an award-winning pianist known for the poetry and sensitivity of her playing. + Featuring some of the lesser-known aspects of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s (1756–91) piano music, this is repertoire particularly suited to her interpretive talents. + Ms. Injushina has made numerous radio and television recordings for such broadcasting companies as ARD, Bayerischer Rundfunk and Finnish YLE, performed at several international music festivals and is AD for her own Helsinki Chamber Music Festival.

REVIEW:

The Philadelphia Orchestra’s first two releases for Ondine under Christoph Eschenbach (Bartók and Tchaikovsky) were extremely good, no doubt about it, but this Mahler Sixth is really extraordinary. Part of its success must stem from the fact that the best German conductors usually do misery especially well, finding the dark side of just about everything. If you don’t believe me, check out Kurt Sanderling’s startlingly deep and edgy rendition of Poulenc’s Concert Champêtre on Supraphon. So you can just imagine what can happen with a piece like Mahler’s Sixth. Anyone fortunate enough to have heard Eschenbach’s performances of this work with the NDR Orchestra in Hamburg will know that he has a special feeling for its harrowing intensity and expressionistic instrumental palette. Toss in the collective virtuosity of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and the result is, to put it mildly, pretty special.

As a coupling, the early piano quartet movement is more appropriate than you might at first think. First of all, it shares the same key as the symphony, and second, it’s useful to have it along as part of an all-Mahler program, allowing collectors to round out their collections without having to search for an acceptable all-chamber-music program. The engineering also represents the best in this series so far, with virtually no audience noise, tremendous presence in both stereo and multichannel formats, and extremely natural balances between orchestral sections. I know that Mahler Sixes seem to be a dime a dozen these days, but this one, a first for Philadelphia, belongs among the elite few (Bernstein I and II, Chailly, Levi, T. Sanderling, and Gielen). It’s just bloody thrilling.

— ClassicsToday.com (David Hurwitz)

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

Ligeti's works on this disc provide an excellent cross-section of the metamorphosis in his compositional technique over a period of 30 years. The Violin Concerto incorporates influences from Medieval and Renaissance music, from late Romantic music and various contemporary styles.

REVIEWS:

Lintu’s Lontano shimmers with ever-shifting colours, he highlights the awe-inspiring grandeur of Atmosphères, and his gorgeously shaped San Francisco Polyphony is vibrant and lyrical—all matched by Ondine’s rich, warm, detailed recording. And Lintu’s vision has the ideal Violin Concerto soloist in Benjamin Schmid, who manages to make Ligeti’s strange, mischievous writing sound sweetly expressive, even touching. His clear sense of line leads the ear effortlessly through the second movement’s eerie microtonal textures, complete with natural horns and ocarinas, and he has superb articulation and rhythmic bite in the tricksy opening movement.

-- The Strad

The selections on this disc are as good a place as any for the newcomer to this composer to get an appreciation for what is so exciting about Ligeti’s way of expressing himself in music. Schmid[’s]…is a committed performance…Lintu and a reduced Finnish Radio Symphony accompany very well and the sound allows much wonderful detail to come through. The performances…are all worthy in their own right. The programme on this CD would seem to be an ideal place to obtain a good sampling of Ligeti’s music.

-- MusicWeb International

REVIEW:

Korngold’s lushly scored Symphony in F?, completed in 1952, has been well, if belatedly, served on disc. The first recording appeared only in 1972, with Rudolf Kempe conducting the Munich Philharmonic. Since then there have been seven additional recordings that I know of. The Philadelphia performance led by Franz Welser-Möst is absolutely stunning in both its orchestral virtuosity and its magnificent sound. I have read glowing reports about, though not heard, the recently released Albrecht/Strasbourg Philharmonic performance, and there are also releases from big names like André Previn, Edward Downes, and James DePreist. Can the Helsinki Philharmonic compete with these? Definitely.

The Philharmonic acquits itself splendidly, particularly its horn section, which delivers astounding displays of unison virtuosity in the first movement. The second movement is a virtuoso romp for the full orchestra. Storgårds keeps the pace lively and the playing crystal-clear despite the complex and often dense orchestration in this movement. There is not even a suggestion of labor involved. The Adagio, the symphony’s emotional core, is a darkly hued quarter-hour of inexorable symphonic growth, which Storgårds brings to a towering climax that will lift you out of your seat. The finale is the weakest of the symphony’s four movements, yet nevertheless blazes with thrills from the Helsinki musicians. Ondine’s recorded sound adds another layer of visceral excitement, sound remarkable for both its textural clarity and its depth—a winning combination. In short, this performance ranks with the best of them.

As a bonus, the disc also contains the world premiere recording of Korngold’s Dance in the Old Style for small orchestra, composed in or about 1919 but never published and possibly never performed until 2007, when Storgårds conducted it at the Jyväskylä Festival in Finland. Brendan Carroll barely mentions it in a footnote in his 1997 biography The Last Prodigy . Richard Whitehouse’s otherwise comprehensive and detailed program notes to this release do not explain how or where it suddenly turned up. The seven-minute piece is pleasant enough but hardly top-drawer Korngold. Nevertheless, it will certainly be of interest to all fans of this composer.

-- Fanfare: Robert Markow

Joonas Kokkonen is considered "Finland's most significant composer after Sibelius" (American Record Guide). However, he still awaits discovery among many lovers of accessible contemporary music. Sakari Oramo and the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra, unrivaled champions of Finnish late 20th-century music, have taken up this task with a complete Kokkonen symphonies cycle: The benchmark first volume (ODE 1098-2) was unanimously hailed by the press as a "must-have disc". On this new release, they perform the first two symphonies, coupled with Opus sonorum for orchestra. Written in the years following Sibelius's death in 1957, these masterpieces reveal Kokkonen's affinity with the music of J.S. Bach and his full exploration of expressive tonal colors.

"...Both are tautly argued works, compressing four movements into 20-minute spans that Sakari Oramo plots with precision. After completing the anguished Second Symphony in 1961, Kokkonen developed a more expressive, almost neoromantic style. The seeds of that can be heard in Opus Sonorum from 1964, which is symphonic in outline if not in its nine-minute scale, and uses the musical letters of Jean Sibelius's name as one of its motifs." - Andrew Clements, The Guardian, London, 2009

"For Finnish conductor, Sakari Oramo, a man with a yen for reviving neglected composers, Joonas Kokkonen is an important figure. He's the 'missing link' between the great Jean Sibelius and a new generation of Finnish composers such as Magnus Lindberg." -- Ivan Hewett, The Daily Telegraph, February 11, 2009

A most desirable addition to Tiensuu’s discography…magnificent.

REVIEW:

This brand new release from Ondine offers three recent works by Tiensuu. They help considerably in appreciating his evolution over the last few years. Incidentally a pair of Alba CDs (ABCD 224 and ABCD 258, both reviewed here by Rob Barnett and the present writer) also went in the same direction.

Tiensuu is a most secretive composer reluctant to comment on his music and preferring to leave it to the listener to make up his own mind about the music. Moreover the titles of his works are often quite enigmatic, which does not make the task any easier. This is the case with Vie composed in 2007 and subtitled “Concerto for Orchestra”. The title might probably mean “life” although it might also relate in some way or another to the English verb “to vie”. In fact this does not seem to matter a lot because the music speaks for itself and is brilliant enough to engage the mind and heart. It opens with a forceful, ostinato-based gesture that recurs at various points in one form or another as a unifying thread of sorts. At one point the music halts in a more static section in which the music almost disintegrates into isolated fragments; this before proceeding into a Scherzo-like section in turn leading into a rather forceful coda abruptly cut short. Vie is a real showpiece full of instrumental virtuosity, arresting textures and sometimes intricate rhythms.

Tiensuu has often claimed that he considered that “the ancient conception that music is the shortest path to higher spiritual spheres” was one of the most relevant premises of creative work for him. However, although Missa bears a definitely religious title, it is difficult to relate the work (Tiensuu’s second clarinet concerto) to anything religious. The only tenuous link is that the seven movements of the work refer to the different parts of a traditional Mass and that the music may reflect the character of those parts. The rather anguished mood of the Introitus spills into the sadly pleading Kyrie. The Gloria is an animated movement with intricate rhythms and allusions to Klezmer. The ensuing Credo opens hesitantly but then moves onwards with some assertiveness, at times verging on brutality before petering out unresolved. Sanctus is a fairly animated affair with capricious rhythms. The Agnus Dei opens calmly on high strings weaving a soft backcloth for the soloist’s song, sometimes echoed by the orchestral clarinets. The piece ends with a brief Ite.

The subtitle “Morphosis for Orchestra” might hint at what False Memories is about. A close analysis of the score - something beyond my skills - might show the way the variations evolve. The work is in three movements (Review, Nostalgy and Trauma). Again these titles may give an idea of the music itself. “Review” opens with strongly articulated, syncopated rhythms and, soon established, the capricious mood of the movement is maintained throughout. In its unsentimental way the music of the beautiful slow movement speaks for itself as does that of the troubled final movement that provides an unresolved conclusion.

Tiensuu’s recent music obviously takes a step further towards greater accessibility although it is still far from being easy, especially on the performers’ part. Even so, it clearly displays a new-found pleasure in music-making. Tiensuu obviously relishes the many textural possibilities of the orchestra. These three works undoubtedly demonstrate the composer’s enjoyment in his brilliant handling of large orchestral forces.

The performers clearly partake of that same delight with Storgårds conducting vital and immaculately prepared readings of these exacting and ultimately rewarding scores. Kari Kriikku is his own self in the demanding part of Missa which he handles with exemplary technique and remarkable musicality. The recording is just superb making the best of these often luxuriant scores.

This release might well be the best introduction possible to Tiensuu’s highly personal sound world.

-- Hubert Culot, MusicWeb International

This release includes the world première recording of the full orchestral score written by Armas Järnefelt (1869–1958) for Mauritz Stiller’s silent film Song of the Crimson Flower (1919) performed by Gävle Symphony Orchestra under Jaakko Kuusisto.

Armas Järnefelt – today largely known in music literature only as Sibelius’ brother-in-law – became one of the most remarkable Finnish orchestral composers during the 1890s. The composer wrote several symphonic poems and orchestral suites in his young age which were highly successful and widely performed by various orchestras in his home country. However, for reasons unknown, Järnefelt decided to devote himself to conducting. In the years to follow, Järnefelt moved to Sweden and become a highly-esteemed conductor.

Some of Järnefelt’s miniatures became hits for salon orchestras in Europe, such as his Berceuse, but this recording makes more justice to a largely forgotten Nordic composer. In 1919, Finnish-born film director Mauritz Stiller approached Armas Järnefelt and commissioned him to write an orchestral score for his silent film ‘Song of the Scarlet Flower’ (Sången om den eldröda blomman), based on a novel by Finnish author Johannes Linnankoski. Järnefelt made great efforts for the project and as a result, wrote a large 100-minute orchestral score. The work can be considered as his final orchestral masterpiece and a pioneer work in film music. The film was a huge hit and went on to be screened in more than 40 countries in addition to Sweden. It was also the first ever Nordic feature-length film to have a full-length original score written for it. Järnefelt’s score was lost for a long time, although he did conduct a recording of extracts from the score in 1931. In the 1980s the original score was rediscovered among the possessions of Järnefelt’s relatives. Järnefelt’s score was augmented and restored by Jani Kyllönen and Jaakko Kuusisto for the present recording.

Ondine's successful Paul Hindemith (1895-1963) recordings with the NDR Sinfonieorchester conducted by Christoph Eschenbach continue with another release featuring two major symphonic works by the composer: Symphonie ‘Mathis der Maler' and Symphonie in E-flat.

The orchestra's and Christoph Eschenbach's previous Hindemith release together with Midori won a Grammy Award in 2014.

The ‘Mathis der Maler' Symphony is based on an opera that treats the life of the Renaissance painter Mathias Grünewald. Hindemith started to work on the symphony already prior to the completion of the opera. The symphony was premiered with great success by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra under Wilhelm Furtwängler on 12 March 1934. This performance was the last premiere of an orchestral work by Hindemith in Germany before the National Socialist regime issued a general performance prohibition applying to his works in 1936.

Hindemith wrote his Symphonie in E-flat during his exile in the United States in 1940. The Symphony is absolute music in the tradition of the four-movement symphony of Beethoven and the romantic period.

REVIEW:

Eschenbach’s trademark fondness for textural warmth and clarity is much to the fore in Mathis, where strings and woodwind are admirably numinous, the complex counterpoint in both the ‘Engelkonzert’ and the ‘Temptation’ beautifully detailed. The central ‘Grablegung’ is slow, rich-sounding and very introverted. The state-of-the-art recording, pristine and wide-ranging but with no sense of dynamic exaggeration, helps him at the big climaxes, which are imposing, at times even monumental, and there’s a beguiling elegance to the instrumental solos that thread their way through the textures. Abbado and the Berlin Philharmonic on DG have more dramatic bite but this is superbly done nevertheless.

Eschenbach’s approach to the underrated Symphony in E flat, meanwhile, is epic, thoughtful and at times startlingly measured. He is wonderfully attuned to the complex trajectory of a work that looks back from a newly acquired place of safety on an old world irrevocably damaged. The opening Sehr lebhaft has terrific élan, the scherzo a supple, gracious wit. The orchestral clarity is again breathtaking. But placed beside the almost reckless energy of Bernstein (Sony—nla) or Hindemith himself (DG), you notice a grander manner and slower speeds. Eschenbach’s longbreathed way with the crucial Sehr langsam steers it closer to ritual mourning than private grief, though his treatment of the work’s closing pages, in which sadness briefly threatens to intrude upon gathering joy, is moving in the extreme.

-- Gramophone

REVIEW:

This is the world premiere recording of Hindemith’s Piano Music with Orchestra (piano left hand), commissioned by Paul Wittgenstein in 1922 and completed within six months. Wittgenstein—a musical reactionary—never played it; the commissioning contract gave him exclusive performance rights for his lifetime, and he prohibited anyone else from doing so. After his death in 1961, his estate ignored all requests about the piece; in fact, it had lost the score. A flawed copy of the original manuscript turned up in a Pennsylvania farmhouse in 2002 and was successfully coordinated with sketches in the Hindemith archives. Fleisher gave the first performance with the Berlin Philharmonic in December 2004. Hindemith was just emerging from his avant-garde youth at that time. The radical firebrand still shows up in three of the four movements, which are played without pause.

The introduction is aggressive, loud, and brassy, but it does suggest the more staid Hindemith to come. The second movement is filled with outbursts from a large percussion group. A mysterious slow movement features a long duet between piano and English horn, which later gives way to a flute; it is reminiscent of the aborted love scene in the composer’s 1926 opera Cardillac. Fleisher believes that the movement’s basso continuo, which consists of 12 quarter notes (repeated) and uses 11 of the 12 tones, was poking fun at Schoenberg’s recently devised dodecaphonic system. The finale returns to the wild, nose-thumbing style of Hindemith’s 1920 opera Das Nusch-Nuschi.

Fleisher “owns” the left-hand repertoire, and is in this case the unique interpreter. He convinces one listener that this is exactly how the piece should go, revealing everything it has to say. The Curtis orchestra supplies solid, reliable accompaniment. If a few solos are not quite as beautiful as those from the New York Philharmonic, Eschenbach’s views of the music seem more sensitive than Maazel’s and the students more comfortable with the 85-year-old music than the New Yorkers.

Dvorak’s “New World” is played to top professional standards—the strings are gorgeous, as is Rebekah Daley’s first-desk French horn—but I don’t find the reading very interesting. The recorded sound is merely decent and a bit congested, far from the brilliance Ondine achieved for Martinu’s Memorial to Lidice, also a live performance, but admittedly an SACD. The booklet lists every player but oddly gives no credit for English horn, despite that instrument’s important solos in both works. The program writers for both the New York Philharmonic and this disc may have had no opportunity to study Hindemith’s score or hear his music, as they concentrate on its fascinating history.

--James H. North, Fanfare

The celebrated Norwegian cellist Truls Mørk is known as a tireless champion of the best contemporary music. On this release, he portrays the Icelandic composer Haflioi Hallgrímsson—himself a professional cellist—with his two works for cello and orchestra, and is joined by the forces of the remarkable Scottish Chamber Orchestra under the direction of John Storgårds. This CD includes the first commercial recording of the Cello Concerto, which Hallgrímsson dedicated to Mørk in 2003. He has championed the work in a number of performances across Europe to great acclaim. The Times calls it, “a remarkable new addition to the cello repertoire… one of his [Hallgrímsson’s] finest work to date.”

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