SEGERSTAM: SYMS NOS 21 & 23

Children (Classical Favourites for) - Teddy Bear at the Conc

This album marks Peter Jablonski’s debut for the Ondine label. Alexander Scriabin (1872–1915) created an impressive catalogue of works for the piano and became one of the great innovators in 20th century music. In his early works, the listener can sense the composer’s great admiration for the art of Frédéric Chopin. This is especially manifested in the over 20 Mazurkas that Scriabin wrote for the solo piano, the very same form of music that Chopin followed throughout his active years as a composer. Jablonski's album includes all Scriabin's Mazurkas with an opus number as well as two early Mazurkas.

REVIEW:

Peter Jablonski reaches in an brings out this music's opium-laced perfumes and colors, and projects their intoxicating essence very well. The music of Alexander Scriabin is not concerned with notes, but rather with what these notes can evoke. Jablonski's got this covered.

– Classical Music Sentinel (Jean-Yves Duperron)

Weber, C.M. Von: Clarinet Quintet in B-Flat Major / Grand Du

Gothóni's playing is of an entirely different league and his artistry of a different order. His account of Kyllikki is commanding, full of character and imagination. Whether in the Five Pieces, Op. 75, or the finely wrought Song in the Forest from Esquisses, Op. 114 Gothóni plays with both authority and sensitivity. While the piano music is, by the exalted standards Sibelius set elsewhere, limited in resource he never – to quote Glenn Gould – "wrote against the grain of the keyboard". Gothóni shapes and colours every phrase with fantasy and without the slightest trace of exaggeration. The Op. 34 Bagatelles are particularly successful and persuasive.

- Gramophone 11/1996

Vocal Recital: Dilber - SCHUBERT, F. / LISZT, F. / HAHN, R.

Sibelius, J.: Cantatas / Finlandia (Complete)

SHOSTAKOVICH: SYMPHONY NO 8 D

Talivaldis Keninš (1919–2008) is a name that is not known to most classical listeners despite of his long international career as a composer. This album presents three orchestral works by one of Latvia’s greatest 20th century composers performed by the Latvian National Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Andris Poga and Guntis Kuzma.

Although born in Latvia, Keninš lived most of his life as an exile. He was educated in Paris, where he studied under Tony Aubin and Olivier Messiaen, and won several awards. Keninš emigrated to Canada in 1951and became a respected pedagogue and a very influential figure in Canada’s music life.

Alongside his pedagogic work he wrote a sizeable catalogue of works, including several symphonies and concertos. According to Keninš, chamber music was the highest form of art. His Concerto di camera No. 1 (1981) reveals his love for chamber music. The work contains hints of Bartók. The composer himself mentioned Mozart’s concertos as his model when writing the work. Concerto for Piano, Strings and Percussion (1990) was completed shortly after the composer’s first visit to Latvia since the 1940s. Latvia was struggling to regain its independence and the work has a particularly tense and tragic atmosphere. When the work was premiered in Canada, the composer drew attention to the events unfolding in his home country when describing the work. Keninš wrote his First Symphony in 1959. This expressive work represents well the element of Latvian folk music in the composer’s work fusing it together with contemporary elements. Upon its premiere, the work received several performances in Canada, including CBC radio broadcasts.

This new release by the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Hannu Lintu is an all-Sibelius program featuring internationally acclaimed mezzo-soprano Anne Sofie von Otter. The album includes two major tone poems by Jean Sibelius (1865–1957), Tapiola and En Saga, combined with a set of songs orchestrated by Aulis Sallinen (b. 1935) in 2015.

Sibelius’ magnificent tone poem Tapiola, written shortly after the 7th Symphony, may be regarded as the culmination of a period that began with the Fifth Symphony, a period where Sibelius created music that grew organically out of tiny germs into huge processes. It was completed in 1926 and remained Sibelius’s last great orchestral work.

In Tapiola, Sibelius appears to equate the primacy of nature with the value of art for its own sake, the unattainable truths of which remain uneroded by time or by the shifting ideals of mankind.

The genesis of En Saga, originally premiered in 1892, is also shrouded in mystery, and even later in life Sibelius was reluctant to go into any detail regarding its content. It is among Sibelius’ earliest orchestral works, and its original title in Swedish, En saga, refers to ancient Nordic tales of heroes and gods. Although En saga is among the most popular works by Sibelius today, the premiere of the work was not a success and Sibelius revised the score in 1902.

On the occasion of the 150th anniversary of Sibelius’s birth in 2015 composer Aulis Sallinen (b. 1935) orchestrated a cycle of songs for mezzosoprano Anne Sophie von Otter. This cycle of eight songs contains several less known songs in a cavalcade juxtaposing human emotions and innermost thoughts with the natural environment and experiences in nature.

The recent recordings by the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra under Hannu Lintu on Ondine have gathered excellent reviews in the international press.

SZYMANOWSKI, K.: Violin and Piano Music (Complete)

Orchestral Music - Sibelius, J. / Grieg, E. / Nielsen, C. (S

SIBELIUS: COMPLETE WORKS FOR V

SIBELIUS: COMPLETE WORKS FOR M

In these days of megaboxes and reissues, it’s surprising and delightful to see a new release that couples two beautiful quartets, immaculately played, just because–well, just because. OK, the cover art makes Tetzlaff look like a cult leader hanging out with his three sister-wives, but happily his eponymous quartet doesn’t fall prey to any Svengali-like mind control from its first violin. Their work is that of a true quartet, well-balanced, precise, and with a welcome give-and-take between the parts.

This is particularly true of the Schubert, a work whose strange harmonies and endless tremolo textures foreshadow Bruckner, and which demand a particularly sensitive handling of the relationship between melody and accompaniment. The first movement relishes its quasi orchestral textures, but without ever letting us forget that this really is chamber music. In both of the outer movements tempos are particularly well judged, with the constant seesawing between major and minor in the finale producing a truly disturbing, almost queasy effect.

Haydn’s Quartet in G minor, Op. 20 (No. 3) makes an ideal disc mate, even leaving aside its complementary tonality. Its first movement, particularly, offers plenty of uneasy emotional ambiguity that’s very well captured here. Charles Rosen, in The Classical Style, presented a typically penetrating analysis, calling its handling of rhythm and motivic development positively upsetting; and in this interpretation the evident care with dynamics and sense of timing conveys the darkness just below the surface particularly well.

In short, this is a throwback: a classical music release without a stupid title or ridiculous concept, one that lets the greatness of the music speak for itself and offers interpretations that justify the program through purely musical means. Wonder of wonders. It deserves your support, and will reward your close attention. - ClassicsToday.com
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A MusicWeb International Recording of the Month!

Is there, I wonder, a greater string quartet than Schubert’s D.887, Beethoven’s notwithstanding? Certainly it is one of the most profound, moving and indeed disturbing works in that genre, rivalled only by the same composer’s string quintet and characterised by an eternal paradox in its typically Schubertian endless melodic stream and its equally typical sense of impending death, doom and destruction. The finale must emerge as a Dance of Death, a startlingly brutal musical depiction of dissolution almost two hundred years before Stravinsky utilised that trope in “The Rite of Spring”, a brave and desperate defiance of the inevitable masked by enforced jollity - and the Tetzlaff Quartet really nail the mood.

Their playing is swift and invariably tightly focused, never “prettified”, sometimes raw, with sparing use of vibrato, and technically flawless execution of the frequent tremolos. The recorded sound is very detailed and more intimate than, say, the Alban Berg or Allegri Quartets; their broader acoustics match their grander, more overt manner, but where the Tetztlaff really excels is in its scrupulous and invariably unanimous application of dynamics, which greatly enhances the intensity of its playing. That attention to nuance is reinforced by their observation in the booklet notes regarding how the dynamic markings go “from triple piano with diminuendo to triple forte with crescendo”. Those notes provide little factual information on the music itself, being a transcription of a conversation about its emotional hinterland and impact of this constantly questioning music. Mahler’s wry aphorism comes to mind: “If a composer could say what he had to say in words he would not bother to say it in music” – although perhaps a review should be wary of smugly borrowing his bon mot given that the same principle could apply to reviewing.

The first movement is chilling and gripping, its grotesqueries fully realised. The Andante contains some of the most beautiful and unsettling music ever written, exhibiting wonderful control of pianissimi and concluding in almost serene and consolatory mode. The Scherzo is featherlight and delicate in the Mendelssohnian manner, the waltz-time Trio ideally elegant.

If Schubert’s quartet represents some kind of apex in the form then there is an evident logic in including in the programme here a work which was seminal in its inception and establishment. However, there is also the programmatic rationale of establishing a thematic link between these two quartets. If Goethe’s dictum is correct, that the string quartet is “a conversation between four intelligent people”, then in the case of these two works all the participants are to some degree disordered, yet we undoubtedly hear four equal voices, each claiming conversational ascendancy in turn, such is the virtuosity and equilibrium of the Tetzlaffs’ playing. Haydn’s work is disturbing in a manner similar to that of Schubert’s, in that the music evinces a frequent and shocking undercurrent of dissatisfaction and even anger, although it hardly achieves the same scorched emotiveness as Schubert’s masterwork. This is wild, erratic and fragmented music by early Classical period standards; even the supposedly courtly Menuet is more melancholy and unsettled than “galant” and three of the movements conclude by simply tailing off in a piano muttering in a manner most unconventional and even unsatisfactory by the measure of the age. The Trio of the Scherzo is incongruously cheerful as if it hardly belongs in the quartet at all while the Adagio, exquisitely played here, provides another such interlude of unexpected serenity in an otherwise fitful and capricious work whose restlessness goes a long way towards justifying its kinship with D887. A final irony is that there is no evidence that this or any other string quartets were ever performed in Esterházy; it seems that Haydn wrote them out of an inner compulsion to exorcise his demons while marooned in that civilised but remote gilded cage.

Comparison with the esteemed Buchberger Quartet in the Haydn reveals that the Buchberger is more assertive and plays in a more overtly “con spirito” manner than the Tetzlaff, who are perhaps occasionally almost too refined but thereby bring out the subtleties of this extraordinary music; I would not let that count as a demerit, especially when the pairing here succeeds so triumphantly.

– MusicWeb International (Ralph Moore)