Orchestral and Symphonic
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Sibelius, J.: Symphony No. 2 / Finlandia / En Saga / Pelleas
Popular Operatic Overtures
Air Force Blue
With a tradition going back to its formation in 1941, The United States Air Force Band has long been the Air Force’s premier musical organisation, inspiring audiences in America and all over the world. Many of the works on this album demonstrate the history and importance of flying, from Philip Wilby’s vision of a bygone era in Dawn Flight, Bruce Yurko’s Red Tail Skirmish dedicated to the heroism of Tuskegee Airmen in WWII, and the futuristic excitement of Asimov’s Aviary by Joel Puckett. The spectacular virtuosity of The United States Air Force Band can also be heard in Time Travels by the band’s chief arranger, Senior Master Sgt. Robert Thurston, and in the superb arrangement of three movements from Holst’s The Planets.
Prokofiev: Symphonies No 1 "Classical" & 2 / Alsop
Also, no one ever chastised Honegger for cribbing the opening of the first movement in his own “Liturgique” Symphony a couple of decades afterwards. The truth is that the music is really much less nasty than its reputation would suggest, and the first movement, while certainly noisy, actually contains a number of distinctive and appealing musical ideas. So, for that matter, does the concluding second movement, a theme followed by six highly inventive variations. Without minimizing the music’s violent energy, Alsop plays the piece with a vivid sense of its long melodic lines. The first movement, in particular, has plenty of excitement but also a certain lyrical emphasis that gives the music something to be excited about. It’s very convincing.
As for the Classical Symphony, well, just about everyone does it well, and while I can imagine a first movement with a touch more snap to its rhythms, the performance picks up steam as it goes, culminating in a delightfully crisp account of the finale. The early tone poem “Dreams” drifts about prettily for ten minutes, sounding like Debussy or Scriabin or basically anyone but Prokofiev. Does it deserve greater exposure? Perhaps not, but this lovely performance makes as strong a case for it as you might imagine possible. Vivid sonics make this the best release in this series so far.
– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Kodaly: Orchestral Works / Fischer, Et Al
Dvorak: Symphonies Nos. 3 & 4 / Chichon, Deutsche Radio Philharmonie
ROMANTISCHE KLAVIERMUSIK
Haydn: String Quartets Op 2 No 3 & 5, Op 3 No 1, 2
Romantische Sinfonien
DIE GROSSTEN CHORWERKE
HIMMLISCHE WEIHNACHTEN
Tchaikovsky: Sym No 4, Romeo & Juliet Ov / Alsop, Et Al
Adams: Inuksuit
J. L. ADAMS Inuksuit & • Thad Anderson, Noam Bierstone, Omar Camenartes, Michael Compitello, Nathan Davis, Christopher Demetriou, Rob Esler, Matt Evans, Diego Espinosa, Tim Feeney, Benjamin Fraley, Amy Garapic, Russell Greenberg, Nathaniel Hartman, Phil Hermans, Ayano Kataoka, Kelli Kathman, Danny Lichtenfeld, Ryan Maguire, Shard Mamoun, Krystina Marcoux, Murray Mast, Annie Laurie Mauhs-Pugh, Carson Moody, Benjamin Reimer, Jessica Schmitz, Jeff Stern, Bill Solomon, Christopher Swist, Lisa Tolentino, Alessandro Valiante, Owen Weaver (perc) • CANTALOUPE 21096 (CD: 59: 54, DVD 1:23:00)
& Strange and Sacred Noise video directed by Len Kamerling
This is an event. Inuksuit was written in 2009, and has become John Luther Adams’s signature piece. It is designed to be performed in an open, outdoor space, with a range of performers from nine to 99 (this recording uses 32). It is loose in its construction, with a flow of events that is similar from one performance to another, but whose details and ensemble will vary, depending on choices made in performance, and the characteristics of the environment chosen. Its title comes from the abstract stone structures made across Alaska by the Inuit over the centuries. It uses mostly unpitched percussion (or more precisely instruments of relative pitch) such as drums, cymbals, and gongs, but it also uses harmonic “whirly tubes,” conches, sirens, and glockenspiels and piccolos near the end. But Adams’s primary focus on less pitched, more “noisy” sound sources is a savvy one, as it allows great density and complexity of texture without all the additional harmonic complications that would result from using traditional orchestral instruments (for the record, lessons he’s learned from Inuksuit are being applied in a new work for outdoor wind ensembles).
I heard the piece a couple of years ago in New York at the Park Avenue Armory, a performance whose very venue of course contradicted the original premises of the piece, but was nonetheless magnificently executed. But this recording, made in the forest abutting Vermont’s Guilford Sound, captures better the sense of how the piece interacts with the natural environment (especially its birds, who seem quite unintimidated by all the racket). It also gives us a sense of the space that the piece creates and occupies.
The aspect of the work that impresses me the most is its pacing. Sounds are given their natural time to assert themselves before they are overlapped with others that naturally grow from the earlier ones’ timbres and envelopes. Thus “whirly tubes” eventually transform to conches, and are interrupted by drums whose seemingly random attacks become increasingly dense and patterned, which are joined by cymbals and then gongs, with sirens emerging out of the shimmering soup of upper partials, while the drums grow higher in register and more patterned … until it all crests like a tsunami and we are left with the twittering of birds, both musical and real.
The piece lasts roughly an hour (though the literature on it suggests a longer span, c.75–90 minutes), but with each repeat listening I never find it long. Rather, it is like the weather; one sees a storm front approaching and is mesmerized by the growing darkness, the rising wind, the smell of coming rain. It’s a tribute to Adams’s instinctive feel for the natural that he can pull this off; that it feels so open and spacious, and resists judgment.
The headnote may be a little confusing, but this release is the sort of hybrid to which we’re becoming more used today, and yet it also is presented a little confusingly. There is a standard CD of the piece. But there is also a DVD, which includes 1) the same recording, but with multi-track surround sound ( as well as straight DVD stereo) and a video of a different piece, Strange and Sacred Noise (1997). This work is a sort of prelude to Inuksuit , for percussion quartet in several different monotimbral scorings, and using many of the same process-driven techniques (you can read my review of the Mode 53 release in Fanfare 29:5). It’s led by the amazing Steven Schick, and Adams provides succinct commentaries between each of the eight movements. I particularly love the long third one, inspired by the overlapping accelerandos and decelerandos of Nancarrow and Adams’s contemporary Peter Garland. The performance is filmed in the Alaskan tundra, and is stark and dramatic in the juxtaposition of the players with the vast landscape.
I can’t fully review the surround-sound version because I do not have that configuration. But I can certainly testify that the DVD recording is more detailed, and has more presence and depth. (You also get about a dozen nice slides of the stone sentinels and the Alaskan landscape, that cycle endlessly through the piece.) But the CD sound is just dandy as well.
OK, I must briefly carp: While the piece is divided into five tracks for access-convenience (in both audio versions), Cantaloupe nowhere tells you the timings (even on the page for the disc on their web page). It also takes a bit to realize that the video on the DVD is under “extras.” It would have been nice if the contents had been presented just a little less elliptically. This is a minor kvetch; it’s just a little irritating in what feels to me like the label’s slightly cavalier attitude toward the listener.
But I don’t want this to color my overall enthusiasm for this release. This is a visionary work, in the tradition of Ives, Cage, Harrison, and Tenney—all acknowledged ancestor-mentors of the composer. Adams is deeply tuned into the eco-sensibility of the era in a humane, unpretentious, yet grand way. Indeed, I could express it more simply by saying that his art is grand but not grandiose. Want List for the coming year.
FANFARE: Robert Carl
Evensong / Caleb Burhans, Alarm Will Sound, Trinity Wall Street Choir
Lutoslawski: Preludes and Fugue for 13 Solo Strings, Postlud
Rossi: Cleopatra / Crescenzi, Theodossiou, Liberatore
L. ROSSI Cleopatra • David Crescenzi, cond; Dimitra Theodossiou ( Cleopatra ); Alessandro Liberatore ( Marco Antonio ); Sebastian Catana ( Diomede ); Paolo Pecchioli ( Ottavio Cesare ); Marchigiana PO/Ch • NAXOS 2.110279 (114:56) Live: Macerata 2008
The article on Lauro Rossi (1812–85) in Grove I was written by the late Julian Budden, who was regarded, rightly, as an expert on Verdi. But as Budden considered all other Italian opera composers during the latter half of the 19th century as engaged in frustrated attempts to escape conventionality, so he does Rossi. “As a creative artist,” we’re told, he “belonged to that generation of minor composers who achieved a certain individuality within the post Rossinian tradition, but whose talent was unable to survive the tradition’s collapse.” There are several matters to dispute here: the casual proscription of the life effort of an entire generation of Italian musicians; an evolutionary theory of music that sees traditions in decline based on the rise of a single composer, a century or more after the fact; and of course, the dismissal of Rossi as a minor talent. One great composer doesn’t render all their good contemporaries less worthy of notice. When Bongiovanni released an admittedly subpar but exciting performance of the comic Il domino nero (2328/29) in 2003, it was apparent that Rossi rated neither this dismissal, nor that the style he wrote in had “collapsed.”
Cleopatra is something else again. It was composed almost three decades after Il domino nero , in 1876, and owes far less to Donizetti than it does to Meyerbeer, Auber—and occasionally, mid-period Verdi. Rossi as the Milan Conservatory’s director had developed over the decades a reputation for open-minded acceptance of stylistic innovation, and despite what Budden writes, it’s apparent he was also capable of moving musically with the times in his own work. This isn’t to say that Cleopatra is a major find. Leaving aside obvious but unfair comparisons with Aida , Rossi’s opera sometimes fails to find enough musical tension, or to match its brilliant orchestral palette with content that is similarly inspired. Nor does the literary merit of his libretto sustain investigation. But the work’s best pages—the act III final ensemble, Cleopatra’s heartfelt act II aria—lack nothing for focus or drama. It has effective part-writing throughout, and attractive thematic material. Cleopatra was worth the revival, even in a production that only intermittently supports the work.
The production problems are in part a matter of money, as you’d expect. The costumes give every impression of being Norma hand-me-downs, with a lot of black robes and no Egyptian cultural motifs in sight. Similarly, Cleopatra ’s sets are a few platforms and a long set of stark stairs. If this were truly historical, we’d have to conclude the New Dynasty got its architecture and fashions courtesy of Walter Gropius. Pier Luigi Pizzi is responsible for both, and for the stage blocking, which is usually competent—save for the act I banquet scene that startlingly poses its chorus indolently about the stage while the music proclaims festive, energetic activity.
Two of the three main performances rise above all this. Dimitra Theodossiou sings with an intensity that recalls Gencer. Her voice is dark, and with more than a hint of a beat under pressure, but intonation is accurate, and her control allows for every intended effect to succeed, with the exception of a few attempts at floated tones that remain earthbound. Sebastian Catana’s dark, mellifluous baritone is notable for scoring its dramatic points without leaving the musical line. Among the principals, only Alessandro Liberatore disappoints, with a small lyric tenor that has clearly been pushed throughout its range for volume, resulting in the “blown” sound that often hits singers much later in their careers. David Crescenzi doesn’t lead from the pit; he follows, though competently. In all fairness, he isn’t assisted by the sound engineering, which recesses the orchestra. Rossi makes much of instrumental detail, and it’s admittedly difficult to hear well at times.
Nor does the camerawork help. It suffers from the fidgets—an unwillingness to hold a shot for more than two or three seconds—and an excessive use of close-ups, turning the visuals for many ensembles into a confused mess. The curious thing is that the video director uses diagonal shots of a given singer across the stage for artistic effect, but never once considers employing this to bring multiple cast members who are singing together into a coherent image.
I would be remiss if I didn’t note the negative aspects of this production. Despite these, I do recommend the purchase of Cleopatra to all fans of 19th-century Italian opera. If it lacks the sustained invention of Gomes and the dramatic innovations of Mercadante, it still has enough vitality to sustain a revival, and enough power to triumph despite that production’s limitations.
FANFARE: Barry Brenesal
Dates tell you an awful lot when it comes to opera. Take Lauro Rossi for example. Born two years after Verdi, he died two years before the premiere of the great Italian master’s Otello. His Cleopatra, based on an Egyptian theme, was premiered four and a half years after Verdi’s Aida, also based on an Egyptian theme. Although Rossi seems not to merit even a mention in Michael and Joyce Kennedy’s Concise Oxford Dictionary of Music (Fifth Edition, 2007), he was no operatic or composer ingénue. On the contrary, he was among those chosen by Verdi to compose a section of the proposed Messe per Rossini - in his case the Agnus Dei. It is also true that his name does not feature, along with seven others of the twelve chosen by Verdi for that composition, in the esoteric list of operatic composers found in the Opera Rara catalogue. This is perhaps forgivable as even the vastly experienced Pier Luigi Pizzi, director of this production, claimed not to have heard of him until this production! He should have done more home-work. I have a performance of Rossi’s comic opera Il Domino Nero recorded live with the Orchestra Filarmonica Marchigiana, the same as here, on 28 September 2001. Nor should Pizzi have been surprised given the name of the theatre where this performance of Cleopatra took place, rather than in the open-air arena normally the venue of the large-scale opera performances of the Sferisterio Festival (See reviews of Maria Stuarda, Macbeth and Norma from the 2007 Festival). Meanwhile, we should be grateful that Pizzi’s efforts at fund-raising saved the Festival, albeit with some changes of programme after the withdrawal of state funding; perhaps shadows of things to come nearer home in the UK.
Fortunately the essay in the accompanying leaflet is highly informative. Rossi premiered a shared composition at the San Carlo, Naples, in 1830 after which his compositions came thick and fast . On Donizetti’s recommendation he was offered an appointment at the Teatro Valle in Rome. His tenth opera was premiered at La Scala in 1834 indicating that Rossi composed at a similar pace to Donizetti and Rossini, as was necessary to earn a living in an era when the diva was paid more than the composer. After the failure of a commission for the great diva Maria Malibran in Naples in 1834, Rossi took his talents to North and South America where he was music director and organizer of several opera companies. After a return to Europe Rossi was not short of work, composing both comic and tragic operas. His comic opera Il Domino Nero, presented in Milan in 1849, was a great success. But when the security of an academic post was offered in Milan in 1850 he took it and his pace of composition lessened. Even so six of his works were a success during this period. He moved to Naples Music Conservatory in 1870, working there until 1878 during which time he wrote his penultimate work Cleopatra, and after which he retired to the musical town of Cremona.
Premiered at the Teatro Regio, Turin, on 5 March 1876, Rossi’s Cleopatra caught the public’s imagination. Whether or not Verdi’s Aïda premiered five years earlier influenced his composition, or its reception , is conjectural. Whilst the musical style lacks the bravura of Verdi’s creation it is composed with the dramatic situations well supported by the music, be that in aria, duet or ensemble. Despite the well-known nature of the love of Anthony, Antonio here, and the eponymous heroine, Rossi’s Cleopatra requires a clear and easily comprehensible production. In this respect none does that better than the vastly experienced Pier Luigi Pizzi, especially as - his norm these days - he also designs the sets and costumes. The costumes of the Roman contingent are very much in period with bare knees and togas for the men and long decorous red dresses for the women; the colour differentiating them from the white of the Egyptians. Cleopatra herself is dressed wholly in a black, somewhat voluminous dress. Her admirer, Diomede is also dressed in all black but with an ornament. The single set is very much standard Pizzi mainly comprising wide-stepped stairs with the odd black flat surface downstage where the eponymous heroine has some of her dramatic moments in clear focus.
I do not know which came first, the signing of Dimitra Theodossiou or the choice of opera. They certainly go well together. The work requires a big dramatic-voiced Cleopatra who can throw her voice and whole being into the portrayal. The downside of Dimitra Theodossiou in any repertoire of this type is an intrusive vibrato at dramatic climaxes. I would not wish to overstate this, as the impact is less than it might be. Her vocal contribution is significantly superior to that of her colleagues, most notably in Cleopatra’s act two-aria sequence starting with Lieto in raggio (Chs.9-11) as bereft in her palace Cleopatra yearns for Antonio. As her advisor and would-be suitor Diomede, Sebastian Catana, more bass than baritone, is among the best of a variable supporting cast (Chs.4, 5,12,13). The tenor Antonio, Alessandro Liberatore, is musical but lacks the required heft and clear ping to his voice (Chs.24-26). As Ottavio Cesare, who wishes Antonio to marry his sister in order that he can wage a successful war in the east, Paolo Pecchioli’s bass has more cover than clarity and the role loses some dramatic impact as a consequence (Chs.9, 28); one senses a good voice trying to escape. With her strong contraltoish tones Tiziana Carraro, as Cesare’s sister Ottavia, has too much dramatic impact than the role really calls for (Chs.16-18). David Crescenzi, the chorus master, conducts the performance. He stepped in at the very last minute and as a consequence the extant overture was not performed. Like the chorus he prepared, his achievement in Rossi’s little known opera is considerable.
The music itself falls somewhere between that of the Italian bel canto and the verismo composers. You will look in vain for the fibre and character of Verdi’s Aida, let alone of Otello. Nonetheless it is melodic and contains several dramatic confrontations and some notable scenes, including the thrilling ensemble that closes Act 3.
The DVD direction shows a little of the intimate theatre. During the opera itself not much is seen of the whole of the stage, the director focusing on close-ups or mid-shots. The sound and picture quality are good.
-- Robert J Farr, MusicWeb International
C.P.E. Bach: Empfindsamkeit! - Symphonies & Concertos / Bernardini, Kjos, Barokkanerne
The music spans more than 30 years of C.P.E. Bach’s life as a composer - from his engagement as court musician in Berlin to his last years as director of music in Hamburg. This is Sturm and Drang and Enlightenment at its fieriest. Reason and feelings are distilled in a contrast-laden musical universe - Empfindsamkeit, sensitivity - in which humans and things human are the new wine of the age. Italian baroque oboe specialist Alfredo Bernardini, one of the world’s leading performers of early music, has garnered a number of international prizes for his many recordings. He is, among other things, the founder and artistic director of the ensemble ZEFIRO. Principal harpsichordist Christian Kjos is a sought-after performer who as a member of the quintet Ensemble Meridiana has won a number of prizes at international early music competitions.
Barokkanerne, which debuted in the summer of 1989, has remained a Norwegian early music ensemble with an extensive concert schedule - including its own concert series in Oslo. The orchestra is a frequent guest at festivals throughout Norway and has been involved in a number of productions for Norwegian Radio and Television (NRK). The album was recorded in East Fredrikstad Church. - LAWO
Schumann: Symphonies Nos. 3 & 4 / Gerard Schwarz, Seattle Symphony
The last of Schumann’s Symphonies to be composed, Symphony No 3 ‘Rhenish’ was most likely inspired by a cruise taken by the composer and his wife down the river Rhine. Alternating between austere splendour, great rhythmic suppleness and soaring lines, the work is an aural depiction of rural life by the river and the majestic cathedral in Cologne, and one that dares to reflect tensions between Classical form and Romantic innovation. So too does Symphony No 4, cast in four seamless movements that show Schumann’s masterly command of interrelated material and of symphonic unity.
Legendary Treasures - Brahms: Four Symphonies / Mravinsky
Lindberg: Cantigas, Cello Concerto, Etc / Salonen, Karttunen
This selection is a DSD (Direct Stream Digital) recording.
The Ultimate Mozart Opera Album
YUN: Chamber Symphony I / Tapis / Gong-Hu
Holst: The Planets, Op. 32 & The Mystic Trumpeter, Op. 18
Tchaikovsky: Swan Lake (Highlights) / Yablonsky, Russian State Symphony
Tchaikovsky was ideally equipped to write the music for the ballet Swan Lake. His gift for vivid theatricality, for lively, memorable melodies, and for rich characterisation was allied to a mastery of dance rhythms. These qualities were augmented by his command of orchestral colour. And yet early performances were disappointingly received. It was only after some structural and choreographic revisions in 1895, two years after the composer’s death, that the work was fully appreciated for the masterpiece that it is.
