WILD NIGHTS! • Scott Weiss, cond; Vince Gnojek (s sax); Univ of Kansas Wind Ens • NAXOS 8.572129 (60:23)


TICHELI Wild Nights! DZUBAY Shadow Dance. Bryant Dusk. ETEZADY Anahita. MACKEY Soprano Saxophone Concerto


A wild night, indeed! This isn’t exactly warm-breezy-night-on-the-square band fare, though it would certainly make an exciting concert if the municipal ensemble were up to the considerable virtuosic demands. As we know from their earlier Naxos release, “Redline Tango” (8.570074), the University of Kansas Wind Ensemble has virtuosity to burn. As in that inaugural release of the Naxos Winds Band Classics series, they produce a superb blend and sonority; brilliant and thrillingly massive in full flight and—thanks in large part to a collection of outstanding section soloists—beautifully refined in quieter passages. “Redline Tango” was conducted by long-time Director of Bands John Lynch, who left a fine legacy of technical excellence, musical sensitivity, and dedication to new music. Scott Weiss, holder of the director’s position since Lynch’s retirement in 2007, has plainly maintained the high standards.


The title work of the album starts the proceedings with a swagger. With high energy and high spirited, it lies stylistically somewhere between Copland’s An Outdoor Overture and Bernstein’s more manic moments. Inspired by the Emily Dickenson poem of the same name, it is more about the joy and ecstasy in that work than anything of the poet’s repressed sexual desires. In any case, jazzy and full of surprises, it is the perfect program opener.


Equally effective are David Dzubay’s magical Shadow Dance , a revisitation of Pérotin’s Viderunt omnes and John Mackey’s hyperactive Concerto for Soprano Sax and Wind Ensemble. Dzubay takes the concept of organum to remarkable extremes, creating a frenzied, irreverent modern equivalent of the 13th-century composer’s primitive polyphony. It has little to do with the medieval—excepting, of course, the concluding monk-like chanting of the cantus firmus —but everything to do with joyful celebration of the past. The Mackey Concerto, homage to his teacher John Corigliano, is five movements of nonstop technical demands on the soloist. Flanked by a Prelude and Finale that in themselves would provide a challenging work, the three inner movements celebrate the three materials in the saxophone. “Felt” shows off key work, with wild note bending and alternate fingerings. “Metal” exploits the beauty of the brass, with the sax playing high and sweetly, attended by bells and chimes. “Wood” displays the instrument’s warmth in a sensuous tango. Vince Gnojek, professor of saxophone at the University of Kansas, may not have the sweetest tone—more a reedy American jazz sound than a French quality—but his technical skill is staggering and he is matched by the band members who get an amazing workout.


The other two works, Steven Bryant’s Dusk , a chorale work that shows off the band’s beautiful control and Roshanne Etezady’s three-movement Anahita , inspired by a mural of the Zoroastrian goddess of the night, are attractive, but less-distinctive works. The locally produced recording has great dynamics but not a lot of air around the ensemble, and loud climaxes become congested. It is hard to tell if it is the hall or the miking, but it is not enough to detract significantly from the overall excellent impression. Enough said: those looking for Sousa and Broadway medleys, head for the ol’ band shell. Lovers of top-drawer wind bands and high octane, listener-friendly contemporary charts should apply within. And pick up that earlier Naxos release as well. Great stuff.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

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WEBERN Ricercata from Bach’s “Musical Offering.” 5 2 Songs, op. 19. 4,6 5 Movements for String Orchestra. 6 2 Songs, op. 8. 1,5 5 Pieces for Orchestra, op. 10. 6 4 Songs, op. 13. 1,5 6 Songs, op. 14. 1,5 5 Sacred Songs, op. 15. 1,5 Das Augenlicht. 4,6 Variations for Orchestra. 5 Second Cantata 2,3,4,6 • Robert Craft, cond; Tony Arnold (sop); 1 Claire Booth (sop); 2 David Wilson-Johnson (bs); 3 Simon Joly Ch; 4 20th Century Classics Ens; 5 Philharmonia O 6 • NAXOS 8.557531 (79:32)


Craft was the first to record Webern’s “complete” works, back in the 1950s. His four- LP monaural Columbia album was a revelation—and a tribute to the commercial daring of Columbia’s Goddard Lieberson. Although there had been four or five earlier recordings of single Webern works, Craft’s set joined only one other Webern piece in the 1957 Schwann catalogs. It was to remain available for more than two decades, until succeeded by Boulez’s stereo remake in 1979, dubbed—at the last minute—Vol. 1 because a trove of previously unknown works had been discovered. While the stereo LPs were a great improvement, both for their sound quality and their performances, the latter were due to the singers and players more than to the conductor. Webern had gained respect—indeed, had become the guru of musical academia—and musicians were leaning how to perform his works. The learning curve continued well into the CD era; an appropriate punctuation being the 1992 appearance of a superb Webern disc by the Netherlands Ballet Orchestra (nla). Now everyone could play Webern (if not yet sing him), not just the avant-garde specialists. Listeners of my generation learned Webern from that first Craft set, and we are forever in his debt. If he could not then convince us of the music’s beauty, he drew our attention and piqued our interest.


The Twentieth Century Classics Ensemble is a group contracted for Craft’s recordings, its players handpicked by cellist Fred Sherry. Personnel listings for each piece show it to include the best of free-lance American musicians—I am almost afraid to name some, for fear of slighting equally superb colleagues: Charles Neidlich, William Purvis, Paul Neubauer, and Sherry are so well known that I don’t even need to list their instruments. Soprano Arnold, professor of voice at SUNY Buffalo, is a renowned new-music specialist; she sings Webern with glorious panache. These recordings were made during 2007 and 2008—the Philharmonia sessions at EMI’s Abbey Road Studio No. 1, the American ones at SUNY Purchase, New York, and at the American Academy of Arts and Letters in New York City. The solo songs (at SUNY) are clean and clear, but the chorus (at Abbey Road) is set in a reverberant acoustic that denies us the exact words, even with libretto in hand. As usual with Naxos, librettos are posted on the Internet, but the texts of Das Augenlicht and of the Second Cantata are missing.


One of the pleasures of any Craft release is reading his feisty, superbly informed, damn-the-torpedoes program notes. As usual, he insists that these performances are the only correct ones: “[W]e can blame the failure to understand this piece [the op. 30 Variations] on the ignoring of Webern’s admonition to follow his metronomic markings. The present recording is the first attempt to play the work at metronomic speed. Thus, the DGG [Abbado? Boulez?] trudges along at about 116 for the fast pulsation, as against the required 160, and continues at nearly the same 116 for the slow beat.” In addition to his chutzpah, Craft is usually right. Despite that statement, Craft’s Webern performances are generally softer and more listener-friendly than either Abbado’s sophisticated, highly polished renditions or Boulez’s careful but often stolid performances. Although dubbed the BBC Singers, Boulez’s chorus is also directed by Simon Joly; with the Webern œuvre now doubled, Boulez’s DG recordings fill six CDs and are currently distributed only in a complete set. For the op. 30 Variations , however, I recommend the vibrant, superbly recorded performance by Jac van Steen on a surround-sound SACD, MDG 901 1425.


FANFARE: James H. North

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The Billy Collins Suite comprises intimate chamber settings for eleven Collins poems, some sung, others narrated. (Cedille)

Egyptian Bellydance: Afrah baladi

The English composer Edmund Rubbra described the string quartet as 'the purest and most lucid texture available to a composer', his essays in the form enlivened by Beethovenian vigour and song-like beauty.

The idea of arranging movements from Prokofiev' popular ballet Romeo and Juliet for brass band and percussion is not as strange as it may first seem, since Russia boasts a great brass band tradition.

REVIEW:

Since the demise of The City Musick some 16 years ago, Chicago has been without a period-instrument orchestra. Plenty of smaller chamber groups have been trying to fill the void, but it’s not quite the same as having a full-sized period orchestra that can tackle the larger works. Many metropolitan areas in North America can boast of having a Baroque orchestra—San Francisco, Boston, New York, Seattle, Cleveland, Toronto, Montreal. For a great city like Chicago to go without is unthinkable. The formation of the Baroque Band in 2007 was therefore something of an event and grounds for celebration. That this took place on the cusp of a severe economic downturn is even more remarkable. The present CD is the group’s debut recording, and shows it to consist of a nicely rounded 5-4-3-2-1 plus harpsichord, a healthy size by any standard. My thanks to Jim Ginsberg and his enterprising Cedille label for affording us non-Chicagoans the chance to examine the group for the first time. 

In the press release to the CD, Baroque violinist and founder Gary Clarke speculates that this may be the first time the six suites of Biber’s Mensa sonora have been recorded using full orchestra, and he may be right. My past favorite, and the Baroque Band’s chief competition, is the version by Musica Antiqua Köln and Reinhard Goebel (Archiv 423701, nla). Naturally, one cannot expect the same sort of individualistic chamber-music approach from an orchestral performance, but within the context of a larger group, the Baroque Band plays with admirable style and precision. A minor quibble has to do with the omnipresent and very prominent harpsichord continuo. Well played as it is by David Schrader, the occasional inclusion of a theorbo or chamber organ would have provided some much-needed variety.

The featured work is the famous Battalia à 10 (subtitled “for violin, strings, and basso continuo in D Major” in the booklet), and its history on record is traceable to the classic premiere recording by Concentus Musicus from 1966. That LP, which contained several other works of Biber as well as music of Muffat, was rereleased on CD in the early ’90s as part of the Collectio Argentea series (Archiv 437081, nla). It’s fascinating to compare the two period-instrument performance styles of 1966 and 2010. Back then, violinist Alice Harnoncourt played with a very sweet, vibrato-y sound, but also with great authority and presence. Here, Gary Clarke is equally authoritative, but his sound is straighter and ultimately more apropos than Harnoncourt’s. Compared to the ultra-polished but somewhat laid-back Concentus Musicus, the Baroque Band is a well-drilled regiment, clearly in command of the music. It plays with greater energy and really digs into the Bartók pizzicati in “Die Schlacht.” The players ham it up delightfully in the Lamento movement, a perfect depiction of a bunch of drunken soldiers. The “fife and drum” movement is memorable—for once, the parchment-wrapped double bass really sounds like a drum. Of the several versions that have appeared over the years, including MAK’s, the Baroque Band’s is the most successful in capturing the spirit of this unusual and innovative music.

My main complaint about the CD is that there isn’t enough of it! A timing of 56 minutes is pretty skimpy these days—it would have been easy to add another couple of works by Biber, the Pauern Kirchenfahrt , perhaps, or the Sonata representativa . The recorded sound is first-rate, and Gary Clarke’s notes afford a good introduction to the music. An excellent, urgently recommended debut disc.


FANFARE: Christopher Brodersen


Biber's Mensa Sonora ("Sonorous Table") doesn't get as much play as some of his more virtuosic violin works, but it contains splendid music nonetheless. By any standard this is an excellent performance for a period-instrument group, largely because director Garry Clarke made the smart decision to use a larger-size ensemble rather than having the music played one to a part. In his booklet notes Clarke offers all kinds of ridiculous "historical" reasons supporting this decision, and it's sad that today it is unacceptable for period-instrument performers to offer the one reason that we know would have been as valid in the composer's own time as it is in ours: the music sounds better this way.

Mensa Sonora consists of six parts (called "Pars" appropriately enough), each containing from five to seven brief movements. These range from delicate arias and sarabandes to the vigorous and rhythmically inventive second Balletto from Pars II, and including a couple of imposing Chaconnes (in Pars III and VI). A larger ensemble gives more weight and sonority (that's "Sonora", right?) to the big moments, and a richer but still intimate sound to the lighter ones. Sure, there's the usual minimization of vibrato, which is wrong, but with multiple players it matters less than usual, and to his credit Clarke permits them none of that whiny squeezing of notes that so many period ensembles deploy to the point of mannerism in lyrical passages.

The Battalia makes a substantial bonus. Clarke and his company really play up the battle scene, and the drunken soldiers make a jolly cacophony. Only the final lament of the dying doesn't quite work--it seems to me that it should be simply touching and played more or less straight, without the lachrymose chromaticism exaggerated quite so much. Of course, this is very much a matter of taste. As usual with this label, the engineering is superbly natural and well-balanced. A fine disc that all fans of Baroque music will want to consider.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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Originally published in London in 1771, these six Sonatas for cello and basso continuo were arranged for cello and piano by the influential Italian virtuoso cellist Alfredo Piatti in the 1870s and are performed here on modern instruments.

This Blu-ray Audio Disc is only playable on Blu-ray Disc players and not compatible with standard CD or DVD players.



CORIGLIANO Symphony No. 3, “Circus Maximus.” Gazebo Dances • Jerry Junkin, cond; U Texas Wind Ens • NAXOS NBD0008 (Music-only Blu-ray disc: 52:54)


This program is the first music-only Blu-ray release from Naxos; when the busiest classical record label on the planet decides to take a particular technical direction, it behooves us to take note. Naxos has previously issued both SACDs and DVD-Audio discs but has fallen silent for some time, as far as a high-resolution product is concerned. DVD-Audio is gone and SACD, despite the fierce loyalty of a relatively small base of enthusiasts (like me), hasn’t moved beyond the category of a niche product. Blu-ray movies, of course, have been selling like hotcakes to a wide audience and it follows that there are a hell of a lot of Blu-ray players out there. The technology also provides a medium for state-of-the-art music reproduction, and Naxos now joins a number of more obscure labels including 2L, AIX, and Surround Records to provide us with a specimen of what could become the dominant physical carrier of high-resolution digital music.


Significantly, Naxos has not chosen a “sonic spectacular” warhorse to introduce the new format—another Planets, Carmina Burana, or 1812 —but instead offers the first recording of a major work by an important contemporary composer. John Corigliano’s Symphony No. 3 for large wind ensemble, “Circus Maximus,” composed in 2004, is certainly the right stuff to show off the possibilities of an audiophile medium. The piece considers the similarities between the appetite in ancient Rome for spectacle of ever-increasing extremity and the media-driven, lowest-common-denominator reality-show entertainment culture of our own day. The composer observes in his liner note: “Many of us have become as bemused by the violence and humiliation that flood the 500-plus channels of our television screens as the mobs of imperial Rome, who considered the devouring of human beings by starving lions just another Sunday show.”


Corigliano’s technique involves settling on an “architecture” for a piece before actually developing specific musical materials. The Circus Maximus was, of course, Rome’s enormous outdoor public entertainment venue and the composer wanted his work to “justify the encirclement of the audience by musicians, so that they were in the center of an arena.” His “Circus Maximus” is scored for a typical concert wind ensemble positioned onstage, in front of the listener, plus a substantial “surround band” deployed quite specifically around the hall. (The notes reproduce a diagram for positioning the instruments as published in the G. Schirmer score.)


The 35-minute composition consists of eight sections that run continuously. “Introitus” opens with fanfares from 11 trumpets located around the perimeter of the auditorium’s first tier, soon joined by the onstage players. This attention-grabbing movement leads to “Screen/Siren”—a quartet of saxophones plus string bass placed distantly and emitting plaintive, beckoning cries, a song sung in a tritone-laden harmonic milieu. This is rudely interrupted by “Channel Surfing,” as hyperactive music seems to come from every direction. In the manner of Mahler’s Seventh, there are two contrasted “Night Music” sections, one evoking a dangerous backwoods—wild animals howl—and the second an energetic nocturnal urban environment. Then comes the “Circus Maximus” itself: “Exuberant voices merge into chaos and a frenzy of overstatement,” in the words of the composer. Relief follows in the form of a “Prayer” that possesses a degree of harmonic uncertainty but always seems to have a IV to I resolution as the favored destination. “Coda: Veritas” reprises the first section’s fanfares, building to an almost unbearably intense unison note for all the trumpets, terminated by the firing of a 12-gauge shotgun. (Thoughtfully, Corigliano suggests in the printed score that a performing organization may want to hire “a licensed pyrotechnician,” rather than entrust the operation of the firearm to an everyday percussionist.)


The multichannel audio program, DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1, is virtually mandatory for a full appreciation of a work in which the spatial deployment of the performers is critical. (In the “Circus Maximus” section, a marching band actually moves through the cacophony produced by the other considerable forces.) Producer Stephen Epstein and engineer Richard King—both have worked for Sony Classical—have created an incredible sonic experience that may change your outlook in terms of the level of visceral excitement achievable with large-scale repertoire in a home listening environment.


Corigliano’s Gazebo Dances, composed originally for piano four-hands, is a much earlier work. There have actually been six previous recordings of the version for band. The four brief movements are inspired by a turn-of-the-last-century concert-band-in-the-park ethos. The composer describes the opening Overture as “Rossini-like”—I hear the Bernstein of Candide. There’s an off-kilter Waltz and a wistful Adagio that reaches a troubled climax. An exuberant Tarantella ends this affable piece, which is surely within the capabilities of most college bands and maybe even a few ambitious high school groups. Delightful stuff.


FANFARE: Andrew Quint


There are two distinct issues with this disc: the music and the recording. Readers of MusicWeb International want to know what to expect from two unknown works by a rarely heard composer. Your reviewer would however be failing in his duty if he did not herald the arrival of a 'new' format for music.
 
The music first. The symphony is scored for a large wind-band which is detailed in the insert giving not only instrumentation but a diagram of its distribution around the large auditorium at the University of Texas. As it is the composer’s intention that we are surrounded by the players and impacted from all angles, the DTS Master soundtrack is the one to hear. The opening leaps out from behind the listener and much of the first three movements come from discrete groups of musicians placed behind and to the sides. The work fully deserves the title 'symphony' because the themes announced in the early stages are developed extensively in proper symphonic style culminating in recalls of earlier music near the end. Corigliano writes about his wish to draw parallels between the shows at the Ancient Roman Circus Maximus and the current preoccupation with an increasingly intrusive media pandering to the lowest common denominator through 'reality' shows. Whilst we may not feed the religious to the lions, we do seem to watch public humiliation with greater and greater relish. The idea also gave him the excuse he sought to surround his audience with performers. For me the music works quite well and is certainly not hard to enjoy even if it is a bit nerve-racking awaiting the next unexpectedly angled assault. The two Night Music movements are reminiscent of Mahler's pairing in the Seventh Symphony with their fierce activity but here the two nights are of nature and of the city. Night Music 1 is atmospheric but more than just sound-effects because it is thematically linked to what has gone before, particularly the 'primitive calls' heard in the Introitus. Night Music 2 serves as a scherzo for his Symphony, full of dance rhythms and punctuated by fierce outbursts culminating in a climax of quite devastating impact. This is followed by the reflective Prayer and a short but dramatic coda Veritas. The work closes with a gun-shot for which detailed instructions are given in the score, just in case anyone should try to use the 'wrong' gun! The Gazebo Dances are orchestrated from a set of piano four-hand pieces and scored for a more normal wind-band. They are very agreeable with the easy charm of Malcolm Arnold's light music and as beautifully recorded as the main work.
 
To focus on the recording and the medium. This is not the first music issue on Blu-Ray but it is the first from mass-market leaders Naxos and they have announced several more including four Dvorák symphonies. Clearly they are seriously testing out the market for a medium which will not play on anything except a Blu-Ray-capable player, thus the notice on the packaging about it not working on a CD or standard DVD player. Given that the classical market is a tiny fraction of the CD market, that modern classical music is a fraction of that fraction, and finally that Blu-Ray is a fraction of the DVD market, Naxos have set themselves a huge task to sell more than a handful of any one disc in this series. This 2006 recording was made in 24-bit 88.2 kHz and this fact is emblazoned across the top of the cover as if it mattered. What you hear is not 24-bit / 88.2 kHz, that was the digital format for the failed DVD-Audio market, but DTS High Definition Master Audio and that provides 24-bit 96 kHz in 6 channels: 5 surround and one for the subwoofer if you have one. Naxos made a series of DVD-A discs a few years back, thus the present recording format; then they tried out SACD - yet another format. Both failed because few people had the equipment to play the discs and Naxos withdrew from that market. Blu-Ray is different because it is possible to play these music-only discs on any Blu-Ray video equipped home cinema system. How many people will purchase both the latest Hollywood blockbuster and John Corigliano's latest symphony remains to be seen! This particular issue is very well recorded indeed. I would go so far as to say it is one of the best I've ever heard. Since the music demands actual surround distribution of forces the use of the extra channels is not merely self indulgence by the engineers. The dynamic range on the disc is little short of frightening. If you do not jump when the music starts you have not turned the volume up far enough and you will not hear the quietest passages, of which there are plenty. Why the disc requests contact with the internet I do not know. I tried saying yes and no for two playings and detected no change in facilities. Maybe someone somewhere in Naxos marketing has noted the fact that I played the disc. I will be very interested to hear the Dvorák symphonies which make very different, much subtler, demands on a surround recording.  

-- Dave Billinge, MusicWeb International

Not Sousa, Vol. 3: Even More Great Marches Not by John Phili

The Heritage of John Philip Sousa, Vol. 1

The Composers Conduct

The Heritage of John Philip Sousa, Vol. 4

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