Personnel includes: Jerry Hadley (vocals); Jay Berliner (guitar, mandolin); John Moses (clarinet); Dominic Cortese (accordion); John Beal (bass); Barry Mitterhoff (mandolin).

Recording information: Clinton Recording Studios, Studio A, New York, NY (05/24/1995-09/27/1995); Soundtrack Recording Studios, Studio A, New York, NY (05/24/1995-09/27/1995).

FIDELIO (2 CD) (CARTON CT: 12)

Schoenberg, Adorno and Stravinsky - three great composers of the 20th century meet on this project of violin works. In the hands of Liana Issakadze these works take on the quality of a wild circus act and shine with splendor and technical authority. Issakadze plays like the violinist with six fingers that Schoenberg prophesied.

The entire 'Bill' Schuman story in a nutshell—and Slatkin tells it like a true believer. He begins with a cheer. It was Leonard Bernstein who described conducting the American Festival Overture as like ''leading a cheer''. Let's just say that Slatkin's St Louis orchestra are some cheer-leaders. Not that Schuman needs much encouragement in this department: his brand of collective festivity is fired-up and there for the taking—shrill, excitable woodwind hoorahs, brassy fanfare-derived syncopations packed in with heavyweight percussion.

To sum up this music, you'd have to say that it exudes determination in every bolt and rivet: creativity equals energy—the American way. Schuman's is both music of the land—gritty, pioneering, open—and of the first cityscapes: iron and steel, always reaching outwards and upwards. It's always good to be reminded of the New England Triptych, of a bygone America where William Billings wrote hymns and hymn tunes became marching songs. Slatkin absolutely delivers the goods here, tough and buoyant but never muscle-bound in the celebratory outer movements, quick to respond to the old-world charm, too—as when the tumult of ''Be glad then, America'' momentarily subsides to leave flute and piccolo piping away like a distant view of the marching band. His solo oboe is an eloquent preacher in the second panel ''When Jesus wept'', the congregation of strings show great refinement.

Schuman's Tenth, and last, Symphony (here receiving its world premiere recording) quickly reveals that not much about its composer's philosophy and musical vocabulary had changed over a long and vigorous career. A survivor's resolve and strength of purpose is still at the centre of things, an overriding spirit of optimism still rules—energy still equals creativity (hence the subtitle ''American Muse''—a conscious act of homage to all those other 'creative pioneers'). But once beyond the declamatory contortions of the first movement (an abstract, but not so distant cousin of the first movement of the New England Triptych, its superstructure riveted with metallic percussion, jagged brass syncopations generating untold energy) we are into another of those protracted Schuman meditations where strings look east in heart-easing glissandos, a lone flute searches for something, and trumpets, as ever, suggest the close proximity of the city. This may be the spiritual heart of the American nation as Schuman understood it, but for all his outward optimism, it's still a very long, restless haul here to the moment of resolution: a radiant G major triad. No time to wallow, though: Schuman's finale is up and running, aspiring string legatos stabilizing inimitable rhythmic counterpoints in the wind. The pay-off—even by Schuman's standards, an uncommonly explosive tattoo of percussion—is raw energy. RCA have contained it in a spacious, vivid, punchy recording. The St Louis orchestra are again virtuosic.

Finally, it was a nice idea on Slatkin's part to throw in the Variations on ''America'', Schuman's affectionate wink to his gritty, visionary predecessor, Charles Ives. It's so deliciously irreverent, this bandstand burlesque: rarely was a tune so deserving of ridicule. The po-faced procession of muted brass and con legno strings punctuated with ludicrous baton-twirling trills of glockenspiel always makes me laugh; I love the wicked harmonic displacements, the operatic woodwinds and trumpet, the silliness of the xylophone, the mad Spanish pastiche—each and every variant, a well-turned raspberry.'

Edward Seckerson, Gramophone

Classical Music

Classical Music

This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

A performance that emphasises every detail.

By accident or design, two high profile recordings of Mahler’s Seventh, both conducted by Mariss Jansons, have been released in recent months. His Oslo Philharmonic recording on Simax (PSC1271) has garnered praise in some quarters, but is going to have to beat the odds to compete with this one, which sports both SACD sound and the revered Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra. Jansons uses a new edition of the score, prepared by the International Gustav Mahler Gesellschaft, and whatever its innovations might be, he directs a performance that emphasises every detail, as if striving to make audible each minute amendment and correction.
 
The approach sits well with the superior audio quality. On one level, the recording functions as a catalogue of fascinating orchestral details, obscured in previous recordings by poorer orchestral standards and more homogenised sound reproduction. But it is not just the details that make Mahler’s Seventh an unusual work. Jansons also brings his interpretive clarity to the symphony’s unique structure. Other conductors - and I’m thinking of Bernstein and Rattle in particular - often treat the work’s sprawling structure and wayward progressions as problems that need fixing or covering up. Their methods include faster tempos, less rubato, and emphasis on the excitement of the louder passages over the quieter meditative ones, so as not to lose the audience. Jansons takes the opposite approach. He does not apologise for anything he finds in the score. Rather, he goes to great lengths to ensure that every passage and every counterpoint is clearly articulated, skilfully phrased and propelled as if with an inner momentum.
 
The result demonstrates just what a revolutionary work the Seventh Symphony is, with its incongruous dance episodes, its evocative orchestration (guitar, mandolin, cowbell), its precisely notated string portamento, and its dizzying climaxes. Tempos are almost always on the slow side, which again emphasises the details at the possible expense of the whole. Adhering to Mahler’s notated rubato gives the composer’s structural thinking its due. It is found wanting but Jansons never goes so far as to offer a purely sectional structure as an alternative; the immaculate details are always part of a symphonic argument, however flawed.
 
While the overall sound quality is extremely high, some sections of the orchestra benefit more than others. The string sound is particularly impressive: the intensity of the high violins, the presence and timbral variety of the violas and the agogic weight of the cellos and basses. It may well be that the most radical aspect of Mahler’s orchestration in the Seventh is his use of the strings. Its sound-world relies on a complex vocabulary of counter-intuitive doublings, chord spacings and bowings. The combination of high quality audio, world-class playing and forensic detail from the podium allows each of these curiosities to shine through. Things are slightly less clear from the back of the stage, and the percussion in particular often seems muffled, or at least not given the clarity that a studio recording would have been able to ensure.
 
Those, like me, who are more familiar with British and American orchestras performing the work may be surprised by the central European brass sound, which can be quite nasal and vibrato-laden. Even the bass trombone solo in the first movement has a pronounced wobble. It is an upward trajectory throughout the work for the brass. The opening solo for Tenorhorn in Bb’ - presumably a Wagner tuba here rather than a euphonium - has a rich tone, but amazingly vie with the woodwind. The trumpets in the first movement struggle to synchronise in a number of important passages, and the horns are on the brash side. However, the horns more than redeem themselves in the solos of the second movement, while the trumpets come into their own in the finale.
 
In fact, the finale is the best part of this recording. The rondo structure withstands Jansons’ emphasis on detail better than the more complex structures of the earlier movements. His loyalty to Mahler’s notated rubato pays dividends, as there are many surprises in the tempo changes that would be lost in a more four-square reading. It remains a long and challenging movement, but Janson’s balances the expansiveness with a focused orchestral sound and a clear sense of direction. The result, in the closing pages, is a paradoxical sense of inevitability, the music’s goal apparently preordained, despite its remaining unconventional and unpredictable right up to the very last chord.
 
Although I have mixed feelings about this recording, it has a great deal to commend it. The standard of the audio is sufficiently high to appeal to the SACD buyers who would consider it for this reason alone. I would also recommend the disc to those who have heard the work and think they know it. I was in that boat and found myself continually surprised by Jansons’ many revelations. To those completely unfamiliar with the symphony, I would have reservations about recommending this recording, if only because the interpretation is so radical. But there is an admirable honesty about every interpretive decision Jansons makes, and by highlighting the many unusual details of the score, he demonstrates just what an innovative and unusual work it is. These are not the interpretive priorities of most performers approaching Mahler’s most problematic symphony, but Jansons’ advocacy, and his multiple recordings, may yet persuade other conductors to stop making excuses for it.
 
-- Gavin Dixon, MusicWeb International

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Classical Music

RCA RED SEAL: SOLOISTS

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COLOR & LIGHT: JAZZ SKETCHES

WAGNER, R.: Meistersinger von Nürnberg (Die) / Tristan und I

Recorded in: St John's Smith Square, London 1-2 June 1976 Producer(s) Chris Hazell Sound Engineer(s) Danny Gosling Stan Goodall

The Dutch are way too hard on themselves. So far, Chandos has released three discs (including this one) in its ongoing Dutch composers series featuring the Residentie Orchestra of The Hague, and all three have been excellent (you can find reviews of the first two discs, music by Hol and Voormolen, by entering Q1409 and Q1545 in the ClassicsToday.com search box under album/work title). And yet, the writer of the booklet notes treats this music as if listening to it were some kind of penance. He should take a lesson from his English colleagues, who indiscriminately promote any piece of native trash as God's gift to the world of music. Well, maybe he needn't go quite that far.


Cornelius Dopper's reputation today rests on his being second conductor (under Mengelberg) of the Concertgebouw Orchestra in the early decades of the last century. He deserves better. His music belongs squarely in the tradition of the late Romantic "second tier"--composers like Bax, Elgar, Bantock, Zemlinsky, Pfitzner, Magnard, Chadwick, Dreiseke, Melartin, and that sort. It's not music that "matters" historically, but it's colorful, well written, enjoyable, sometimes masterful, and we're better off for having it available.


The Second Symphony (1903) suffers slightly from that Romantic curse, the "finale problem". The ruggedly "symphonic" first movement impressively sustains its 14-minute length, developing memorable thematic material with energy and apt musical logic. The witty scherzo sports some charming faux folk-tunes and gains immeasurably in sparkle and freshness thanks to highly imaginative percussion scoring, including prominent castanets. Dopper's remarkably ethereal (and never tacky) writing for harp and strings at the beginning of the enchanting slow movement offers further eloquent proof of his sensitivity to subtle instrumental colors.


The finale, although certainly not poor, returns to the more "symphonic" style of the first movement, and while the cymbals and brass do weigh in at the end for an impressive peroration, the greater instrumental brilliance of the two central movements casts a shadow over this last one that it never quite shrugs off. Still, if you take a shine to works such as Elgar's First Symphony, which has similar strengths and weaknesses, you'll like this piece very much. Dopper wrote seven symphonies in all, and I'd be very curious to know how the others sound, and in particular if he eventually solved the "finale problem" in his later efforts.


The two works entitled Päan I and II (the title means "paean") sound almost exactly like Bax in Celtic march mode, though the scoring has more transparency. Dopper's comparative harmonic astringency in these later pieces proves that his style did indeed develop, and only whets the appetite for more. Matthias Bamert directs his Dutch forces with confidence, and they play beautifully, as if they've known this music for years. Fine sound, too. Now why can't some enterprising Dutch label pick up where Chandos is leading and explore this rewarding musical heritage in greater depth?
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Recorded in: Grand Hall of Moscow Conservatory November 1999 (Missa oecumenica) & Mosfilm Studio; October 1999 (Symphony No. 5) Producer(s) Valeri Polyansky Sound Engineer(s) Igor Veprintsev

Recorded in: Orchestra Hall, Detroit 8 & 9 November 1991 (Three Essays for Orchestra), 24 & 25 April 1993 (Excerpts from Vanessa and Music for a Scene from Shelley, 16 January 1994 (Medea's Meditation and Dance of Vengeance) Producer(s) Brian Couzens (Executive) Charles Greenwell (Three Essays for Orchestra) Ralph Couzens (Excerpts from Vanessa; Music for a Scene from Shelley and Medea's Meditation and Dance of Vengeance) Charles Greenwell (as for Ralph Couzens) Leslie B. Dunner (Associate) Sound Engineer(s) Dan Dene Robert Shafer

Import Hybrid-SACD pressing.

Ludwig van Beethoven: Freedom Above All Else an Audio Biography by Jorg Handstein is racked by revolution, wars, fears and hopes and music, too. "In instrumental music, art is independent and free" that is the proud claim of the Romantic movement, and Ludwig van Beethoven implements this new artistic ideal thrillingly in his works. In the 10-part audio biography "Freedom Above All Else", J�rg Handstein tells the story of Beethoven's life. The panoramic backdrop of great historical events makes the highly personal story of this radical individualist all the more gripping. A major role is played by the music, which constantly follows new paths and is powerful, profound, eccentric, poetic, sensual and philosophical. This audio experience is rounded off by excellent actors, most notably Udo Wachtveitl as the narrator and Cornelius Obonya as Beethoven, and they are joined by several of the most renowned musicians of our time. On a total of four CDs, Beethoven's life and aspirations can be vividly shared and experienced, and his music with it's many subtleties is woven into this highly exciting biography. His thoughts, feelings, everyday experiences and entire epoch are brought to life here - with everything based strictly on the original sources, but performed and narrated in a lively and inspired manner throughout. Vividly related ten-part audio biography on 4 CDs. Celebrated narrators including Udo Wachtveitl and Cornelius Obonya Complete recordings of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony with the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks under Mariss Jansons, and the Piano Sonata in F minor performed by Alexej Gorlatch.

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Classical Music

Also available: Life with Czech Music - Janácek, Martinu / Sir Charles Mackerras

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Reviews:

Symphonic Variations, Legends, Scherzo capriccioso

Charles Mackerras recorded all of this music in London for EMI's "Eminence" series, but those discs may be very difficult to find, and in any case they fail to stand up to these marvelous remakes. What makes so many Mackerras performances special is the conductor's buoyant sense of rhythm, and when he's working the Czech Philharmonic in top form that result can be (and in this case is) exquisite. There's no need to go on at length about the virtues of these performances. A few examples suffice to illustrate the point: there's the wonderful lightness of touch Mackerras brings to the waltz episode in the Symphonic Variations and its dazzling final fugue; the care with which he balances the percussion in the Scherzo capriccioso so that its rhythmic contributions tell without ever becoming overbearing; and in the Legends, the snap he brings to the quicker pieces (such as No. 3) and the wonderfully subtle way he sets up the appearance (in No. 6) of that gorgeous tune from the Third Symphony's slow movement. Sonically this disc is equally fine. Note the perfect balances between winds and strings throughout and the gorgeous contribution of the harp in the Legends that call for it. Totally great!

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Symphony no 6, Golden Spinning Wheel

In his equally laudatory review of this fantastic new release, my colleague Christophe Huss salutes Supraphon for managing to remain true to its dedication to Czech music while at the same time upholding the highest standards of performance quality. To this observation I can only add "Amen!" The label already has a couple of noteworthy versions of Dvorák's luminous Sixth Symphony with the incomparable (in this music anyway) Czech Philharmonic--a very good one by Neumann and a classic account by Ancerl. In fact, this symphony has been very well-served on disc, with excellent recordings by Kubelik, Rowicki, and Suitner, to name three of the best that come immediately to mind. Nevertheless, this newcomer bids fair to move right to the top of the available discography.


Recorded live, the rapport in evidence between Charles Mackerras and the orchestra really is the stuff of legends. There are so many outstanding moments that it's hard to settle on just a few, but consider the fortissimo counterstatement of the opening tune, just a touch "pesante" for added emphasis, or the gorgeously natural rubato between phrases of the same movement's second subject, and the way the coda really takes off and builds in energy straight through to the final climax. Then there's the usual gorgeous wind playing from the orchestra, so evident in the Adagio. Mackerras drives the scherzo with exhilarating abandon, and although he never bears down on the rhythm too heavily (always maintaining the lilt of the dance), the clarity of texture allows such characterful touches as the offbeat timpani in the reprise to register with full impact. I also love the extra punch he brings to the principal section's return after the trio.


Best of all, Mackerras treats us to what must be the most thrilling account of the finale yet captured on disc. It takes off like the wind and never looks back, simply accumulating energy as it goes. The great string fugato that initiates the coda flies by as if on mighty wings, and the grandiosity of the closing pages never loses that vital rhythmic impulse that gives the music its inner life. I wish that Supraphon had not included the applause at the end, but when you consider that all of this, and so much else besides, is happening in real time you will understand that anyone who believes that the era of "great" conductors is past simply hasn't been listening. If this sort of artistic communion between conductor and orchestra in the service of a brilliant interpretation isn't greatness, then we need to ask whether the term has any meaning at all.


The Golden Spinning Wheel (a studio recording this time) also receives what is arguably its finest performance on disc, even considering Harnoncourt's outstanding recent version. The opening, usually a blur of muddy rhythms in the lower strings and indifferently played percussion, here sounds as crisp and clean as a spring morning. I have never understood why some performances cut the central episode wherein the holy hermit gets back the heroine's various body parts (so he can patch her together again) in exchange for the components of the golden spinning wheel. The threefold musical repetition is not literal, and the orchestration is enchanting. The section is, in effect, the slow movement following the scherzo in which poor Dornicka gets hacked to bits in the first place, and it's a necessary four minutes of contrast. Finally, this is the moment where we encounter most of the "spinning wheel" music of the title. Mackerras rightly doesn't delete it, and hearing those deliciously chubby brass chorales and lovely wind solos alongside such characterful phrasing, you can't imagine why anyone would. The last few minutes offer as pure an expression of joy as you'll ever hear.


Supraphon's engineering is outstanding in both works, a touch warmer in the symphony (perhaps as a result of the presence of an audience), but in all respects as fine as any from this source. That audience, by the way, is absolutely silent, and with music-making of such spellbinding quality going on it's no wonder. Coming hard on the heels of his sensational Janácek double CD a few months ago, it's clear that Mackerras' Supraphon recordings will comprise a small but outstanding legacy worthy to stand beside the great recordings of such legends as Talich or Ancerl, and that the great Czech tradition is very much alive both in Prague and at Supraphon. Buy a few of these: they make terrific gifts for special occasions, and you can be sure to get a hearty "Thank you!" from the lucky objects of your affection. But first, treat yourself.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Symphonies 8 & 9

At 80 years young, Charles Mackerras remains one of the great conductors of our era, not to mention one of the most unheralded. His unfailing musicality, intelligence, and sheer joy in performing communicates vividly in these two glorious performances, beautifully recorded live in September, 2005. They are the kind of interpretations that make you listen as if for the first time to music you probably know well. This isn't just because Mackerras opts for the Urtext editions of both scores, most noticeable in the finale of the Eighth Symphony, where after the central climax he has the cellos play the variant of the main theme contained in Dvorák's autograph (Harnoncourt and a few others do similarly). What really distinguishes these performances is their sheer excitement and vital sense of flow, a function of rhythmically characterful phrasing allied to ideally transparent textures.

This is as true of the bucolic first two movements of the Eighth Symphony, where the woodwinds are especially delightful, as it is in the tremendously physical and passionate initial allegro of the Ninth. Has this movement's coda ever sounded more stormily agitated? And notice how marvellously Mackerras judges the tempo of the ensuing Largo, perfectly poised between rapt contemplation and easeful forward motion. Rhythmic acuity is the hallmark of both scherzos: a deliciously pointed waltz in the Eighth, and a swiftly vivacious Slavonic dance in the Ninth.

In the two finales, so often turned into stop-and-start affairs by less adept conductors, Mackerras creates an irresistible feeling of culmination, choosing rousing initial tempos and then for the most part sticking to them. The Eighth's concluding variations seldom have come across more cogently, particularly the lazy last three, which never bog down in excessive Romantic reverie. The Prague Symphony Orchestra responds to Mackerras' direction with amazing gusto, as if it doesn't already know the music backwards and forwards, and the audience is admirably silent. There are other wonderful performances of this music out there, but this truly is as good as it gets.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Slavonic Dances

It's been along time since Supraphon made a great new recording of Dvorák's delicious Slavonic Dances, but it's been worth the wait. Charles Mackerras is one of the two or three finest conductors alive at present, and he knows this music, loves it, and makes the orchestra play it as if it were as fresh as the day it was written. This is no mean feat, since the Czech Philharmonic knows these pieces blindfolded; or at least they think that they do. It's amazing how many seemingly new details Mackerras reveals (particularly in his characterful treatment of the percussion parts, and the careful dynamic balances involving the brass section) that on closer examination turn out to have been exactly what the composer wrote all along. He's particularly crisp and attentive to rhythm in the waltz-like dances (Op. 46 No. 6 and Op. 72 No. 8), where he catches the music's lilt to perfection. But then, he doesn't really put a foot wrong anywhere. The great recordings of these pieces are by Kubelik (DG), Dorati (Mercury), Szell (Sony), Talich (Supraphon), and Sejna (Supraphon). This newcomer, warmly recorded with fine inner detail, belongs in their august company.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Symphonic Poems

"You won't find better conducting in this music anywhere. Charles Mackerras finds so many wonderful details in these pieces that it's impossible to list them all, and he does it at all tempos and dynamic levels. Listen to his subtle underlining of rhythm in The Wood Dove's opening funeral march, and compare it to the unrivaled glitter of its central party music. Bask in the woodwind timbres at the opening of The Noonday Witch, and marvel at just how much music Mackerras finds even in the stormy climax of The Water Goblin. It's an unalloyed delight from the first note to the last.

Of course, the Czech Philharmonic plays these pieces magnificently. The sonics, however, are not as brilliant as the performances, and that's not unusual from this venue, with its somewhat cavernous acoustic. Slightly recessed brass and percussion lessen the impact of the climaxes somewhat, but it's awfully hard to quibble when the interpretations are this strong. Self-recommending."

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Ma Vlast
Taken down live at the 1999 Prague Spring Festival, Charles Mackerras' performance offers a typically fresh, vital look at Smetana's masterpiece. With the Czech Philharmonic in fine form, the result is completely recommendable, even if it doesn't have quite the personality of Kubelik's emotional return performance of 1990, or that special orchestral sonority that Talich or Ancerl enjoyed. Mackerras' interpretive insights are subtle, but fans of this music will find plenty to enjoy, such as the correctly played (for once!) trumpet rhythms at the climax of "Vltava", the carefully balanced brass and string sonorities at the opening of "From Bohemia's Woods and Fields", and the propulsive thrust that cleverly disguises the monothematic repetitiousness of "Tábor" and "Blaník". The up-close, live recording manages to minimize most audience noises but necessarily spotlights certain instruments (harps right at the beginning) in a way that precludes a truly expansive soundstage. On the other hand, the notorious reverberation of the Rudolfinum has been successfully tamed, thanks in part to the presence of the public. We're not exactly dying for another recording of this work, but it's impossible not to welcome music making of this enthusiasm and idiomatic security with anything less than open arms.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

Two well-known masterpieces of Russian music complement each other perfectly on the latest release of Mariss Jansons and the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks. Recorded November 2014 (Mussorgsky) and April 2015 (Stravinsky) at concerts in the intimate dimensions of Herkulessaal of the Munich Residenz and in the Philharmonie im Gasteig. With the 1947 revised version of Stravinsky's “Petrushka”, a revision ultimately preferred by Stravinsky himself and here featuring the piano of the prolific Lukas Maria Kuen, along with the 1922 orchestral version of Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition" memorably and engagingly transcribed by Maurice Ravel elevating the piece to the pantheon of one of the most familiar of all classical works.