Paul Wranitzky was a characterful composer with a masterful sense of orchestration, as this series has demonstrated. The composer's mature Symphony in C major is a fine example of his abilities, and the finale of the Symphony in D major bursts into life in true Janissary style. Wranitzky's command of singspiel and music for the stage show equal excellence in these fields. World premiere recordings. (Vol. 6: 8.574454; Vol. 5: 8.574399; Vol. 4: 8.574290; Vol. 3: 8.574289; Vol. 2: 8.574255; Vol. 1: 8.574227)

This CD contains both monaural and stereo selections, as well as both ADD and DDD selections.

‘Da-da-da-DAAAAH, Da-da-da-DAAAAH’: the start of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony is really famous. See if you recognise it! It’s just one of many popular pieces here. There are some animals, too—an elephant and a swan. And right at the end, guess which boy wizard joins the party…Come and join it too!

A bird dancing, an ox on a roof, flowers doing a waltz, a swan twirling about…what world is this? This is the magical world of ballet. The stage is full of people in colourful costumes, but nobody speaks. All the stories are told by music and dancing. Composers have written such exciting pieces for ballet: listen to this collection and see which ones you like best!

GUITAR STORIES

Svyati - Steven Isserlis plays the music of John Tavener

This CD contains both DDD and ADD recordings, and also includes both monaural and stereo recordings.

ROSSINI: ARIAS RICCIARELLI, H

Classic Gershwin

BERNSTEIN CENTURY - MOZART: PI

GUBAIDULINA: SOLO PIANO WORKS

Includes chaconne(s) by Johann Caspar Fischer. Soloist: Gustav Leonhardt.

1995 NEW YEAR'S CONCERT MEHTA

Under Bruno Weil’s spirited direction both the Tolz Boys’ Choir, with their bright-edged, slightly breathy tone, and the crack period orchestra, Tafelmusik, are in first-rate form. These works receive energetic, uplifting readings, with brisk tempos, fresh, incisive choral work.

A special attraction for Haydn lovers here is the first-ever recording of the unfinished ode Mare Clausum, commissioned in 1794 by Haydn’s colourful English friend Lord Abingdon, and evidently abandoned when the nobleman was imprisoned for libel. The gauche, crudely chauvinistic verses, trumpeting England’s sovereignty of the sea, should make the most hardened Europhobe blush. But the two numbers Haydn completed are worthy of his ripest style: a noble F major bass aria with rich, inventive writing for woodwind, authoritatively sung by Harry van der Kamp (despite a hint of rawness on the top notes), and a D major chorus whose verve and contrapuntal power presage the late Masses and oratorios.

Under Bruno Weil’s spirited direction both the Tolz Boys’ Choir, with their bright-edged, slightly breathy tone, and the crack period orchestra, Tafelmusik, are on first-rate form here and throughout this enterprisingly planned disc. It includes the thrilling, majestic late Te Deum and the motet Insanae et vanae curae, adapted from a ‘storm’ chorus in the oratorio Il ritorno di Tobia and foreshadowing in its D minor apocalyptic grandeur the Mozart of Don Giovanni and the Requiem. Weil’s reading is eagerly responsive to the music’s drama, with taut rhythms, sharp dynamic contrasts and keen instrumental detailing; and he maintains the initial pulse through the tranquil D major sections, where most conductors I’ve heard slow up markedly, to the detriment of structural cohesion. Between these masterpieces the four little Motetti de Venerabili from the 1750s (another recorded first) inevitably sound tame, for all their easy tunefulness and skilful marshalling of rococo cliche.

The largest work on the disc is, of course, the so-called Heiligmesse, first of the six magnificent Mass settings of Haydn’s old age. Like the shorter pieces, this receives an energetic, uplifting reading, with brisk tempos, fresh, incisive choral work (real exhilaration in, say, the closing fugue of the Gloria) and strongly etched orchestral colours (clarinets, trumpets and timpani well in the picture). In one or two sections Weil can drive too hard – the gravely contrapuntal “Gratias”, for instance, which has an inappropriate restlessness (and where Harry van der Kamp sometimes overwhelms the excellent boy soloists). And I would have liked more tender, graceful shaping in the exquisite canonic “Et incarnatus est” (which follows the opening section of the Credo after too short a pause – something I noticed elsewhere in these performances), and the Benedictus, where Weil plays up the march background rather at the expense of the music’s mystery and spirituality. But there is no doubting the vigour and joyfulness of Weil’s reading, nor the skill and commitment of his forces. Quite apart from its pioneering value, this is an inspiriting Haydn collection whose appeal is enhanced by vivid sound and a typically enthusiastic, informative note from the composer’s alter ego, H. C. Robbins Landon.

-- Richard Wigmore, Gramophone [7/1996]

SCHUMANN: SYMPHONY NO. 3 RHENI

Sibelius: Symphonies Nos. 2 & 6

BACH'S ITALIAN JOURNEY CYPRIE

...[C]ommendable command and spirit [in Carnaval]... I have no hesitation in stating my preference for Cecile Licad, who, for me, has more of the charm, the grace, the imaginative fantasy and last but not least, the immediacy required by the young Schumann on the dance floor. The first two numbers alone at once make that clear... "Pierrot" in its turn brings a far more subtle variety of touch and shading from Licad... [I]t is Licad, more scrupulous in concern for the composer's detailed expressive markings, who I would as willingly have in my own library as the volatile Gavrilov (EMI) and the deep thinking Arrau (Philips).

Though the playing time of Licad's mellowtoned, true-to-life disc is only 52 minutes, her programme artfully spotlights the first five years of Schumann's composing life, working backwards from 1835. Papillons, with its many pre-echoes of Carnaval, is also played with an irresistibly lightfingered spontaneity and musical grace. Yet there is nothing superficially kittenish in Licad's approach. Her characterization is potent again here, with very strongly marked contrasts of tempo and dynamics. And again I would be as happy with this account of the work as any of the catalogue's 'bigger' names. Finally, there's the Toccata, sketched when Schumann was a mere 19 years old, though not emerging in its definitive form for another five years. Licad makes light of all technical problems in a reading nevertheless infinitely more memorable for musical character than mere prestidigitation.

-- Gramophone [1/1991]

Handel: Great Choruses from the Messiah

Muti's strong and expressive performances provide reason enough for recommending the disc to anyone who fancies the linking of early Brahms with mature Elgar.

If this is an unexpected coupling from an unexpected source, Riccardo Muti's strong and expressive performances provide reason enough for recommending the disc to anyone who fancies the linking of early Brahms with mature Elgar. It is surprising how many versions of the Brahms are listed in the catalogue and though Muti's reading is distinctive among them—bringing out the fun and beefy good humour over the six movements—I would hesitate to recommend it as a first choice, when the recording is rather muddy, with a weighty bass and undernourished high violins. Knowing the acoustic problems of the Teatro La Scala in Milan, where it was recorded, I attribute the thinness of the violin sound more to the recording than to the players themselves, who are drawn not just from the opera orchestra at La Scala, but from other Italian orchestras as well.

The dynamic range of the recording is rather limited too, with the weight of sound failing to expand as it should. That said, the rustic quality of many of Brahms's ideas is well caught, with some outstanding solo wind playing, and with Muti giving the central Adagio, much the longest movement, a tender, delicate expressiveness which such rivals as Abbado (DG, 5/87—nla) or Haitink do not quite match. Even so, if anyone is wanting the Serenade above all, I would certainly recommend in preference the Haitink/Concertgebouw version on mid-price Philips. In the Silver Line Classics series it couples this work most aptly with the Serenade No. 2, though at the expense of omitting the exposition repeat in the first movement. Haitink's analogue sound has far more weight and atmospheric sense of presence than Abbado's Berlin recording for DG or the previous Sony version from Michael Tilson Thomas and the LSO, let alone this new issue.

The Milan acoustic treats the Elgar more kindly, though the violins are still on the thin side, and there is nothing like the opulence that Giuseppe Sinopoli, for example, finds in his Philharmonia version for DG (10/90—nla). Yet, like Sinopoli, Muti has a natural feeling for Elgarian rubato, and he too takes an expansive view, though he is not so extremely slow in the lovely Canto popolare nocturne. The Scala viola principal plays the solo in that section very beautifully, with perfect intonation, but surprisingly for an Italian in Italian-inspired music he is emotionally reticent. And though Muti is warmly expressive throughout the overture, he fails to thrust the surging coda home as excitingly as he has done in the concerthall in Britain, and one gathers in Philadelphia too. Nonetheless, it is always good to find British works, particularly ones that might be counted unfashionable, taken up by non-British orchestras and conductors, and played with such understanding. For anyone attracted to this coupling the reservations I have made may well prove insignificant.

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [1/1995]

I could never understand why this wonderful cycle failed to make an impact when it was first issued. Kubelik's sensitivity to detail, his refusal to bully Schumann's vulnerable structures and his ability to penetrate occasional thickets of orchestration, make these 1978-9 sessions especially memorable. Just listen to the cheeky bassoon backing clarinet, 144' into the Spring Symphony's fourth movement, the limpid phrasing of the Rhenish Symphony's Nicht schnell third movement, or the to-ing and fro-ing between first and second violins (usefully separated, as virtually always with Kubelik) in the last movement of the Second, Only the first movement of the Fourth seems to me a little heavy-handed, but then the poetry of the Romanze and the exuberance of the finale more than make amends.

First movement repeats are observed and the playing throughout is rich in felicitous turns of phrase. The sound, though, is a minor stumbling block: violins are thin (one of the few disadvantages of having them separated is that their massed tone becomes mildly diluted), brass a little fuzzy and the whole production less focused than, say, Sawallisch's EMI mid-price Dresden set. But, for me, Kubelik's insights are too varied and meaningful to miss, and I derive as much pleasure from them now as I did 13-odd years ago, when they were first issued on LP. What with a stirring Manfred Overture added for good measure, they constitute exceptional value for money.

-- Gramophone [7/1993, reviewing Sony 48270 and 48269]

The most imaginative of these three sexpartite sets of piano duets is the collection entitled From the Bohemian forest, which Dvofak completed early in 1884, two years before his second set of Slavonic Dances. The six pieces, the nimble "In the spinning-rooms", the evocative "By the black lake", the rumbustious "Witches' sabbath", the dramatic "On the watch", the poetic "Silent woods" (probably better known in its later transcription for cello and piano or orchestra), and the fiery "From stormy times", were inspired by the countryside near Vysokâ, the estate of Dvoiik's brother-in-law, where the composer often went walking, sometimes accompanied by his younger friend Jandeek. They are full of contrast and colour, even if, as seems likely, the titles were added later.

The six Characteristic pieces by the legendary pianist and conductor Anton Rubinstein (founder of the St Petersburg Conservatoire), composed in 1854-8, are expertly written salon pieces, aptly described by their titles, "Nocturne", "Scherzo", "Barcarolle", "Capriccio", "Berceuse" and "Marche"—except that only an exceptionally exhausted (or deaf) baby could be lulled to sleep by this at times decidedly animated "Berceuse". Rachmaninov's six Morceaux, composed in 1894, when he was just 21, have had a bad Press (Culshaw: "Insipid.., a veil can conveniently be drawn"; Norris: "Poor pieces, distinguished by neither inventiveness nor skill"). Skill, and bravura, there is in plenty, however, and they are every bit as engaging as Rubinstein's, which, with their self-explanatory titles—"Barcarolle", "Scherzo", "Theme russe", "Valse", "Romance" and "Slays" ("Glory")—they resemble quite closely.

Yaara Tal and Andreas Groethuysen formed their duo in 1985, and the virtuosity of their performances (stunningly captured by the Sony recording) parallels that of their Czerny record enthusiastically reviewed last year (5/91). Musically, this is all fairly small beer; they have also recorded some Reger and a Mendelssohn disc is promised, but the real test will come when they get down to Mozart and Schubert.

-- Gramophone [11/1992]

As Jan de Winne comments, the golden age of the transverse flute was 1740–80—though it hadn't done badly for many decades before that, no small thanks to mechanical improvements and the influential encouragement of, amongst others, Frederick the Great and prince elector Karl Theodor in Mannheim, both of whom were flautists.

The two Stamitz (father and son) and Richter, all working in Mannheim, wrote enough flute concertos to keep someone busy for a long time, though none of them played the instrument. Hofmann, another non-flautist, had a successful career in Vienna during which he wrote at least a dozen flute concertos, none of which is the one on this recording; the Concerto in D is by Haydn (Hob VIIf/1) but was misattributed to Hofmann as early as 1773. Richter is the most conservative, with adhering traces of Baroque and a fondness for sequences that Burney deplored—albeit with a modicum of exaggeration; Johann Stamitz (father) shows the clearest signs of Sturm und Drang, but the emotional range through the programme is not wide; melodiousness, grace and clarity of form and texture are the order of its day.

Kuijken, using a copy of a Grenser flute of 1789, is as mellifluous, expressive and agile a solo-ist as one could wish for, excellently partnered by Guimond in the excerpt of Gluck, and Tafelmusik (also using period instruments or copies thereof) are suitably light of step and with no abrasive edge to their clear sound. A 'courtly' programme, regally recorded.

-- John Duarte, Gramophone [7/1993]

SCHUBERT: QUINTET IN C, RONDO

If you happened to pick up this music on, say, the car radio, it would, I think, be quite a challenge to identify it. You could date it readily enough as belonging to the 1820s or 1830s, but I doubt whether you could put a nationality to it, still less a composer. Georges Onslow (1784-1853) was Anglo-French (English ancestry, French birth and principal domicile). Beethoven and Schubert are very distant as reference points, Mendelssohn and Spohr perhaps rather closer. The music, however, is richly worked, vivid and passionate. Its textures are very full and very busy, much more egalitarian than most in the chamber repertory – undoubtedly great fun to play – with much interchange between the voices, and involving elaborate accompaniment figures.

It would be easy to say that sometimes there is a lot going on and plenty of excitement, but not much actually happening; however that would be slightly unfair. The C minor work in particular, which has a programme derived from a shooting accident during a hunt when Onslow nearly lost his life, is quite remarkable: a first movement of great intensity, with some passionate music in the development section, a minuet (Dolore, febbre e delirio) with ferocious accents, vast chromatic slithers and diminished sevenths galore, portraying his desperation, then an Andante representing convalescence (not quite on the ethereal spiritual level of Beethoven’s Op. 132, but hymn-like and dark-textured), and then a brilliant C major finale.

The other two works are not programmatic but also have plenty of strongly imagined music. Op. 39 in E boasts a very appealing Adagio, its main theme presented in a variety of ways and contexts, a minuet with a fragmented melody of considerable charm, and an exuberant and powerfully developed finale. The first movement of the B minor work, Op. 40 again shows Onslow’s grasp of structural tension in the powerful shaping of sections and the absorption of lyrical and dramatic elements; there is another near-violent minuet (a development quite distinct from the Beethovenian scherzo style) and again a slow movement of much passion. In the past I have always thought of Onslow as a rather conventional figure, but that is mistaken. He may not be a great composer, but he is certainly an extremely interesting one, with ideas of some originality and a considerable technique. These musicians, using the famous Stradivari instruments in the Smithsonian Institute in Washington DC, play with great spirit, warmth and skill and convey the full measure of the passion behind the music. I hope many readers will try this fascinating disc.

Stanley Sadie, Gramophone [6/1996]