KOPPEL, A.: Saxophone Concertos

Classical Music

In these new reconstructions of Delalande's all-too-rare "table music" for the French court of Louis XIV - on CD for the first time - the music is performed in the original five-part textures and on period instruments. Immediately after starting in his post as Superintendent of the House Music in 1689, Delalande began composing instrumental movements. These suites were chiefly intended for the king's suppers which, in reality, were "performances" before an audience. It was an honor to be allowed to watch the king eat, a greater honor to be spoken to during the meal, and a supreme honor to be invited to serve him his food or eat with him. In this context, instrumental music played an important role, it's magnificence reflecting the regent's powerful self-image. Since new works were continually being demanded, this practice resulted, over the course of the years, in an impressive body of works.

Georg Philipp Telemann, one of the most prolific composers of the Baroque era. Giovanni Antonini and Il Giardino Armonico have taken this opportunity to pay tribute to his eclecticism in a programme juxtaposing works that move constantly between French and Italian stylistic traditions. On this disc, Giovanni Antonini not only directs the ensemble, but also returns to the recorder, his own instrument of choice (as it was the composer’s), and performs the Suite in A minor, the Concerto in C major and the Concerto da camera in G minor. We will also discover a curiosity, a sonata for chalumeaux. This instrument of folk origins is comparable to the clarinet, and Telemann was the first composer to show an interest in it.

With the participation of: Tindaro Capuano, Enrico Onofri.

Lyrita is back, thank God, courtesy of Nimbus, and this now-legendary recording of Malcolm Arnold conducting his own delightful English, Scottish, Irish, and Cornish Dances (plus the Sarabande and Polka from the ballet Solitaire) never has been surpassed. True, the playing isn't quite perfect. There are a couple of brass flubs here and there, but you have to strain to hear them and probably won't notice. More to the point, the sheer gusto of the interpretations (witness English Dance No. 4) and the impact of the superb engineering remain in a class of their own. Colorful, tuneful, and a delight from first note to last, this disc is a treasure whose appeal hasn't dimmed a bit since the day it was released. No self-respecting collector of English music can afford to be without it. [9/19/2006]--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

FURTWÄNGLER Symphony No. 2 • Eugen Jochum, cond; Bavarian RO • BR 900702 (2 monaural CDs: 82:54). Live: Munich 12/9–10/1954


One fact has been demonstrated to me as I did some research for this review: There is no logic whatsoever in pricing practices of the record industry. The major competition for this release is Daniel Barenboim’s Chicago Symphony Teldec recording (43495), which is also on two discs. Teldec U.S.A. priced it as two full discs—so on Amazon it sells for about $30, and on ArkivMusic for $34.99. However, on the British site MDT.uk.com its price for U.S. customers is listed as $18.50, because Teldec in Europe decided to price it as if it were one disc (which is rational, since it is just two minutes over the limit for one disc). On the other hand, this Bavarian Radio release seems to be treated in precisely the opposite manner: $26.77 is the U.S. price listed on MDT, but it is only $19.99 on ArkivMusic! You figure it out—I can’t!


Time for full disclosure: At the time of Barenboim’s recording (2001), I was managing the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and I played a role in persuading him to conduct the piece and him and Teldec to record it. Because of that I could not review it for Fanfare , but two reviewers did, in 26:2. Marc Mandel liked it very much but felt that Furtwängler’s own Vienna Philharmonic performance issued on Orfeo trumped Barenboim’s in the concluding section of the finale, where Mandel felt Barenboim let down just a bit. Martin Anderson expressed no reservations at all, in an unreservedly enthusiastic review.


Barenboim’s still remains the only readily available and enjoyable modern stereo recording. Alfred Walter’s Naxos effort is flabby beyond description, and one’s mind wanders halfway into the first movement, never to return. A performance by Georg Alexander Albrecht on Arte Nova is better, but not at the level of Barenboim or Furtwängler. Takashi Asahina’s fine Japanese recording from 1984 is just about impossible to obtain in the West (and may be so in Japan, too, for all I know). There are actually five (!) Furtwängler performances on disc, one a studio recording for DG, the other four all live readings. By far the best is the VPO on Orfeo (C365 941 B). It has good monaural 1950s broadcast sound, inspired playing, and of course the advocacy of the composer, who just happened to be one of the great conductors of the 20th century.


Both Barenboim and Furtwängler persuade one that this is an important, enjoyable score. As different writers have pointed out, there are elements of Bruckner, Strauss, Schmidt, Rachmaninoff, and probably others in its blood. It is old-fashioned for its time, to be sure, and it has its longeurs. But it is deeply moving, a work filled with some considerable anguish (much of it was written in Switzerland where Furtwängler had fled because he learned that he was on a Nazi assassination list, and where he was unable to conduct until he was cleared of Nazi affiliation charges by the Allies). It is also a work that doesn’t really sound like anyone else, despite having elements of many. In the end, one’s interest is maintained by the skillful orchestration and a strong element of melodic inspiration. For those interested in Furtwängler or in late-Romantic music, both Furtwängler’s and Barenboim’s recordings are valuable.


So where does this first-time issue of a 1954 broadcast fall? Right at the top level with those other two recordings. I reviewed the Furtwängler Orfeo release (a 1953 performance recorded in Vienna’s Musikvereinssaal) in the Classical Hall of Fame in Fanfare 18:5, and commented that it had some of the best recorded sound of any Furtwängler recording. That is true—but the Bavarian Radio folks were doing it even better in the middle 1950s, and what we have here is truly fine monaural recorded sound equal to many studio recordings being made at that time. It still of course cannot equal the sound quality of the Barenboim recording.


What distinguishes Jochum’s reading from the other two is his different approach to orchestral sonority and his tauter reading in general. Barenboim and Furtwängler both built their orchestral sound from the bottom up. Everything rested on a foundation of the basses and cellos, and, where appropriate, the lower brass. Jochum’s sound is brighter—it wouldn’t be fair to call it “top down,” but it is definitely a lighter sonority, with more emphasis on the upper strings and brass than is the case in the other two. What it lacks in lushness it compensates for with brighter colors. Add to that his extra dash of rhythmic snap, and you have a performance different enough to warrant exploration by anyone who loves this work. I would still not be without the composer’s own and the Barenboim, but I am very happy to have added this to my library. Renate Ulm’s very interesting and informative notes are an added plus.


FANFARE: Henry Fogel

Classical Music

The highlight of this sunny, consistently delightful disc comes in the form of 26 Variations on "La folia di Spagna", based on one of the most famous tunes in Western civilization. A veritable "concerto for orchestra", this late (1815) masterpiece offers a compendium of orchestral tricks of the trade, with brilliant sectional writing, echo effects, and solos for everyone, including (alongside more traditional strings and winds) trombones, harp, and even snare drum. Why it's not an orchestral staple even today simply defies the imagination, and aside from a less-than-seductive principal violin solo, it's brilliantly played here.


The remaining works consist of opera overtures and symphonies created from them, in the purest pre-Rossini Italian tradition. Zesty rhythms, lively tunes, and daring wind writing make these pieces a joy from first note to last. The Sinfonia "Il giorno onomastico" and the overtures to Falstaff and Angiolina offer particularly enticing melodies set amid bold splashes of orchestral color. As noted, Matthias Bamert and his London Mozart players do the music proud, though Chandos' recording does not quite solve the problem of recording a small orchestra up close in an overly ample acoustic. Great fun.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Granados: Complete Piano Music, Vol. 1

JUBILOSO - CHAMBER MUSIC FOR W

Recorded in: All Saints' Church, Tooting, London 24-25 March 1998 Producer(s) Ralph Couzens Sound Engineer(s) Jonathan Cooper Richard Smoker (Assistant)

Copland, Ives & Rachmaninoff: Orchestral Works

Classical Music

Another splendid trawl through the treasurable Lyrita back-catalogue. Here's an uncommonly wide-ranging and generous selection of Holstian delights, encompassing music as stylistically diverse as the folk-song bumptiousness of the early Two songs without words (a VW dedication from 1906) to the ''tender austerity'' (to use the composer's own phrase) of the Lyric Movement for viola and chamber orchestra—a most haunting creation from his penultimate year. Elsewhere, we are offered such rarities as the colourful Golden Goose ballet music and Capriccio (both expertly reworked by Holst's daughter, Imogen), the gritty Double Concerto of 1929, as well as the composer's own string orchestra transcription of the tender ''Nocturne'' from A Moorside Suite—a marvellous work, scored originally for brass band (I do wish Decca would restore their superb Grimethorpe Colliery Band version to currency). The enchanting Brook Green Suite is here, too, but the outstanding account of the popular St Paul's Suite which came with it on that 1967 LP anthology will have to wait a little longer for its silver-disc debut.

Performances throughout possess unfailing insight, and the present remasterings are superb. An essential companion disc to Lyrita's classic Holst/Boult compilation from last year (7/92).

-- Andrew Achenbach, Gramophone [4/1993]

SCH¸TZ: SYMPHONIAE SACREA III

A fascinating assembly of Holstiana. Three of these pieces have already appeared on record before, two of which—the colourful 1921 ballet, The Lure, and Dances from The Morning of the Year (an effective concert suite edited by Imogen Holst and Colin Matthews from Holst's 1926-7 choral ballet)—were available on an earlier Lyrita compilation from 1982, coupled with the ambitious 1904 scena for soprano and orchestra, The Mystic Trumpeter. David Atherton was the admirable conductor on that occasion, with the LSO enthusiastic protagonists and the engineers on top form. Wisely, then, this enterprising label has invited the same conductor (this time with the LPO) to continue the good work, and the result is this notably generous collection of absorbing rarities.

Just one work offers the chance for comparative listening, the haunting Invocation for cello and orchestra from 1911. Imogen Holst has observed that, from a textural point of view, this music presages many features of ''Venus'' from The Planets (indeed, if I'm not mistaken, the cello's opening senza misura passage even quotes a turn of phrase later used in that selfsame movement). Memorably recorded for RCA by Julian Lloyd Webber and Vernon Handley in 1983, this often magical creation is equally well served by these newcomers: perhaps Alexander Baillie is the more hyper-sensitive and tonally beautiful of the two soloists, whereas Handley is a rather more imaginative partner than Atherton. Its companion opus, A Song of the Night for violin and orchestra, was composed in 1905: a less characteristic essay, its central climax glows with romantic fervour, especially in a performance as passionately dedicated as this one.

From 1899 to 1906, Holst worked on his large-scale opera based on Indian mythology, Sita. Colin Matthews has put together this brief orchestral interlude containing music from Act 3: its excitable, very Wagnerian manners are striking, as, for that matter, is Holst's beautifully judged orchestral writing at the hushed conclusion. There's plenty more Wagnerian spectacle in Holst's earliest completed Indian-inspired creation, the 12-minute tone-poem, Indra, from 1903. This colourful, enjoyably rhetorical portrait-in-sound of the god, Indra, and his battle against the drought, again reveals a confident, assertive master of the orchestra, if not without an occasional touch of vulgarity in some of the more over-blown tuttis. The heartfelt, if not especially memorable Elegy in memoriam William Morris in fact comprises the slow movement of Holst's Cotswold Symphony from 1900. To begin with, Holst's processional is momentarily reminiscent of Magnard's glorious Chant funebre, though, as the music progresses, the comparison quickly becomes a cruel one! Finally, there's A Winter Idyll which, although the earliest work on this CD (it dates from 1897, when the composer was still a student at the Royal College of Music), is scored with no little aplomb; certainly, Holst's teacher, Stanford, would have approved of the felicitous transparency and sure design of this, his pupil's very first orchestral work.

In all, a most rewarding survey, handsomely played and engineered, and graced by extensive and knowledgeable booklet-notes from Lewis Foreman.

Andrew Achenbach, Gramophone [6/1993]

The word ‘feroce’ appears in the directive for the first movement of Bax’s First Symphony. Myer Fredman does not disappoint – there is something of a ‘dare’ about the horns’ fate-like gesture at the opening of the work, a defiance that runs through this movement. Fredman secures impassioned playing from the LPO and paces the movement supremely well, so that the second subject, when it comes (three minutes in), acts as aural balm in its tender, lyrical, almost sotto voce demeanour. Rhythms, so important, nay vital, here, take on towards the end almost the significance they do in Holst’s ‘Mars’. And look out for moments of real magic, too (the flutes at 10’37ff). The second movement (‘Lento solenne’) is a dark and powerful elegy, hardly a place of retreat from the boundless energies of the surrounding movements (there are only three in total). The London Philharmonic’s concentration seems total. The finale boasts a big-boned introduction (Allegro maestoso) before the doors are opened on some glittering Baxian frolics.

Anguished harmonies seem more prevalent in Symphony No. 7, although some glittering moments bring contrast. The longer paragraphs carry with them a certain grandeur that is most affecting, a certain quiet nobility that inspires some sort of awe. The Lento (with a Piu mosso section marked, ‘In Legendary Mood’) is rather beautiful, although perhaps it is a trifle over-long (it begins to sprawl rather here). The ending is touchingly tender, though.

The finale begins with a nod to Britten in its open-air exuberance, and later features some brass writing that would not have disgraced Walton’s Crown Imperial. The close is certainly grand (although do I detect a hint of bombast?), and the noble, long-breathed string melodies are here even more effective because of Lyrita’s superb, warm recording. Of course we are in competition with Chandos’s Bryden Thomson and Vernon Handley, two conductors whose qualifications in this repertoire are fully acknowledged, not to mention David Lloyd Jones’s Bax recordings for Naxos. Yet Leppard’s instincts are accurate and always convincing.

This is a valuable disc, not least because it puts two substantive works by Bax side-by-side. Both performances do the scores justice and the recording is, as usual from this source, exemplary.

-- Colin Clarke, MusicWeb International

JONES Symphonies: No. 4, “In memory of Dylan Thomas” ; No. 7; No. 8 1 • Charles Groves, cond; Bryden Thomson, cond; 1 Royal PO; BBC Welsh SO 1 • LYRITA 329 (78:05)


Welsh composer Daniel Jones (1912–1993) was born in Pembroke and raised in Swansea, where he forged a friendship with the poet Dylan Thomas. After study in Swansea, Jones moved to London’s Royal Academy of Music. His output included concertos for violin, oboe, and cello; choral music, including the Oratorio, St. Peter ; an opera, The Knife ; chamber music; and 13 symphonies. Jones’s musical language is essentially tonal. He originated a rhythmic method for heightened expression—a device that he called “complex meters” involving maintaining and often juxtaposing, complex and often-irregular time signatures over a long timespan. Musically, Jones was influenced by Purcell, Haydn, and Janá?ek, but his language is personal. His symphonies can be broadly divided into three groups: Symphonies Nos. 1–5 (1944–58), conceived within the late-Romantic symphonic tradition and scored for large forces; Symphonies Nos. 6–9 (1964–72) moving towards greater structural experimentation, unusual combinations of instruments, and shorter lengths; and Symphonies Nos. 10–13 (1976–92) concerned with concision and paring down germ ideas to the barest essentials.


Daniel Jones’s Fourth Symphony, considered to be one of the composer’s finest achievements, was composed in memory of the poet Dylan Thomas, who had died, tragically young, in New York on November 17, 1953. Their relationship had been close; they had shared a zest for life. It was Jones who had written the folk-like music for Under Milk Wood. The Symphony is, understandably, elegiac; the opening Maestoso movement speaks bleakly of tragedy and loss, with a sometimes funeral-march tread, but also of defiance. The central Allegro capriccioso scampers along; it is light-hearted and capricious. Its playfulness might suggest the larger-than-life characters from Under Milk Wood , and perhaps the real-life antics of composer and poet, while its slower, sadder, middle section is more reflective, sometimes darkly so; it has a vulnerability, a sadness—and regret? The final Adagio-moderato-adagio is turbulent and disturbing; the music’s violence seemingly released reluctantly in a brief coda that highlights a solo violin with pizzicato cellos and basses.


The Seventh Symphony is cast in five movements, although the fourth and fifth share the same track. Completed in 1972 and dedicated to Sir Charles Groves, it was written as a commission from the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. The work has an unsettling ambiguity, the music often lurking in dark corners and having many abrupt contradictions. The most immediately appealing material is in the quicksilver Scherzando that employs a xylophone to heighten its puckish, tipsy fun, but even here tragedy stalks. The Eighth Symphony has five movements too. The music is enigmatic and ferocious, lyrical and searching, and not without a sardonic wit. Its extraordinary, arresting opening chords are sounded on marimba. Imaginative orchestrations abound: the often-spectral third movement has some amazing interchanges between piano and vibraphone; the elegiac fourth movement includes harmonic passages for kettledrums under heartfelt music for strings, muted trumpets, and softly played trombones; and the high-spirited finale sounds triumphant trumpets and tubular bells.


Strong performances of some quite original music. A rewarding disc for the adventurous.


FANFARE: Ian Lace

I am absolutely delighted to have these fine works by a beloved composer back in the catalogue, especially in such beautifully committed readings as these.

Elizabeth Maconchy was a most distinguished composer, whose music is still under-represented in terms of commercial recordings, although her present discography is far from negligible. The complete recording of her string quartets (possibly her greatest achievement) is – fortunately enough – available again at bargain price (on Regis) as are her Clarinet Concertinos and Clarinet Quintet (on Helios, if I am not mistaken), which on the whole is not too bad, but there is so much that is still awaiting recording. Good news to know that Odaline de la Martinez is apparently busy committing some hitherto unrecorded works to disc for Lorelt. This is something to watch for indeed. Appropriately released in the composer’s centenary year, this Lyrita disc is thus most welcome since it restores one of Maconchy’s masterpieces back into the current catalogue, namely her magnificent Symphony for Double String Orchestra, and offers the first commercial recording of another major work, the Music for Strings of 1983.

The earliest work here is the overture Proud Thames composed in 1952, some sort of English Vltava, although “the Thames is shorter by many hundreds of miles than the Vltava” (Hugo Cole). The music is simple, direct and colourfully scored. A very fine concert opener all-too-rarely heard.

The Symphony for Double String Orchestra is a fairly substantial work in four neatly contrasting movements. The first movement opens with a vigorous call to attention (a five-note figure that will reappear later in the work, actually in the final movement). The two string ensembles are used either antiphonally or in unison, with some forceful contrapuntal writing (actually one of Maconchy’s strengths). The second movement opens with “a rocking figure” paving the way for a richly melodic, impassioned theme, that momentarily gives way to the sole violin’s reverie, but the music moves irrepressibly forward towards a mighty climax subsiding then into the opening mood before dissolving into thin air. The third movement is a light-footed Scherzo with the flavour of some rustic dance. The final movement is a concise, but none the less imposing Passacaglia. After the climax, the music again dies away calmly with a quiet, slow restatement of the very opening of the first movement. As already mentioned earlier in this review, I firmly believe that this is one of Maconchy’s greatest achievements and a magnificent work that should have earned a permanent place in the repertoire.

The very title of the Serenata Concertante clearly suggests that much emphasis is laid on the symphonic nature of the argument, which is possibly tighter than in the Symphony. Indeed, the first movement opens with a short introduction stating some basic material that will keep reappearing during the course of the work. The introduction leads into the animated Allegro main section. The second movement is a Scherzo. If Bartók is often – and rightly – mentioned as an important influence on Maconchy’s music, it is now Martin? who sometimes comes to mind, at least in this particular movement. The slow movement is a richly melodic and warmly lyrical arch supported by soft brass chords, over which the soloist freely muses. The work ends with a fairly extended Rondo, in which material from the preceding movements is briefly restated, thus emphasis the symphonic structure of the whole. It nevertheless ends with a beautiful, calm coda, as did the Symphony.

The Music for Strings, too, is in four movements. The dark-hued introduction of the first movement sets the predominantly sombre mood of the entire movement. The movement is another fleeting Scherzo ending “in a wisp of sound”. The dark, elegiac mood suggested by the viola in the first bars of the third movement is sustained throughout the Mesto that reaches an eloquent climax. The music slowly subsides leaving the viola alone. The tense mood prevailing in the preceding movements eventually brightens in the final that concludes with “an insouciant throw away ending”. On the whole, Music for Strings is a much sterner, rather more understated work than the Symphony, but one that any composer less modest than Maconchy would have proudly called Second Symphony for Strings. Another splendid piece of music, and a most welcome addition to Elizabeth Maconchy’s discography.

I am absolutely delighted to have these fine works by a beloved composer back in the catalogue, especially in such beautifully committed readings as these. This generous release is a must for all lovers of Maconchy’s music; others will find much beautiful music to enjoy here.

-- Hubert Culot, MusicWeb International

Adrian Boult brought tremendous authority to any recording he made of 20th century British works, having known the composers and often having conducted the premiere performances. These recordings, made in the early 1970s, demonstrate that age took not a bit of his musical command or energy on the podium. Boult was particularly associated with Gustav Holst (he conducted the public premiere of The Planets). Since this compilation presents some of the crown jewels of Lyrita's history, anyone with any interest in British music of the first third of the 20th century should consider this CD a mandatory acquisition. Beni-Mora is unusually picturesque and passionate; the Fugal Overture's wit and lyricism belies the impression of stodginess its title suggests; and the virtually unknown Japanese Suite charms and invigorates. The 30-year-old sound is still better--cleaner, clearer, and more natural--than most of the stuff major labels are putting out in standard CD sound today.

--Joseph Stevenson, ClassicsToday.com

I still remember how exciting it was to discover these marvelous tone poems: the mysterious darkness of November Woods, the watery depths of The Garden of Fand, and of course the magnificent vistas revealed in Tintagel. This last was the most familiar, from a classic Barbirolli recording for EMI of English overtures and symphonic poems, but I suspect that this was the next Bax disc that most collectors added to their libraries, assuming they could find it. The performances remain all that one could want: atmospheric, very well played, and beautifully engineered. We've come a long way in our knowledge of this fine composer since the days when Lyrita alone carried the torch for Bax, but these recordings wear their years very lightly and still offer as much listening pleasure as when they were new. For a single-disc collection of the major tone poems, you can't do better than this. [1/10/2007]--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

TCHAIKOVSKY WORKS

There have been frequent attempts to get Wagner's Ring into a symphonic format. + However, the new version by Andreas Tarkmann does not only want to align the highlights, but to compress the opus to its very own orchestral drama – divided into four well-defined parts the quintessence of the Ring operas is clearer and the figures more finely depicted. + Tarkmann’s talent for concise escalation makes this version a special pleasure, lacking nothing essential in the entirely. + Despite minor compositional procedures, this symphonic "short-Ring" at any time remains 100% recognizable as Wagner.

Georg Christoph Wagenseil (1715-1777) belongs, as his Viennese colleague Georg Matthias Monn, to that avant-garde of the 18th century, which replaced the instrumental music and thus also the then new symphonic genre from the dependence of Baroque dance forms and the musical theater. So they prepared the way for Haydn's and Mozart's later development towards fully trained "Wiener Klassik". Christophe Coin and the Orchestra Le Ph�nix present the two cello concertos and a symphony in C major.

“From the heart, may it go to the heart.”
(Beethoven’s inscription on the manuscript score of his Missa Solemnis)

Last year at the Semperoper as part of the Dresden Musikfest 2014 I attended a disappointing performance of Beethoven’s great Missa Solemnis. Ivor Bolton was conducting a quartet of soloists, Balthasar-Neumann-Chor and the Dresdner Festspielorchester playing on authentic instruments. It was altogether below-par and I reckon the oppressive hot weather of the day affected not just the tuning of the strings but also the energy levels of the performers.

In view of that uninspiring Dresden concert when this new BR Klassik release arrived I was delighted to have the opportunity to reacquaint myself with the score. Recorded live at the Herkulessaal, Munich by the world class Chor und Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks the distinguished conductor Bernard Haitink has selected an impressive quartet of soloists.

The motivation behind Beethoven’s writing of the Missa solemnis was the appointment in 1819 of Archbishop Rudolph as Cardinal-Archbishop of Olomouc. Beethoven’s former piano and composition pupil and most valued patron, Archbishop Rudolph was the youngest son of Emperor Leopold II. Beethoven invested considerable time as well as emotional and spiritual energy on his Missa solemnis and didn’t complete this immense sacred score until 1823 some three years after Rudolph’s enthronement; a ceremony that used works by Haydn and Hummel instead. The Missa solemnis had to wait until 1824 for its première which was given not in a church setting but at a concert hall in Saint Petersburg. Incidentally, in 1807 Beethoven had composed a mass – a commission from Prince Nicholas Esterházy for the name day of his wife.

All Haitink's soloists here sing with unerring commitment and incisiveness. This is not always the case in performances of this work the quartet. They also manage to keep their operatic sensibilities under wraps and concentrate on the reverential aspect of the text. The highly appealing Salzburg-born soprano Genia Kühmeier excels with her eagerly bright and fluid tone. Another Austrian, Elisabeth Kulman is in splendid voice too. A refined well focused lyric mezzo, Kulman’s slightly dark timbre projects strongly, with clear and precise enunciation. In highly engaging voice English tenor Mark Padmore seems to improve each time I hear him. Here he displays creamy tone and impeccable diction all coupled with an eminently respectful projection of the sacred text. Dignified German bass-baritone Hanno Müller-Brachmann impresses with his steady, flexible tone and dark-edged hue. He has certainly become a singer to be reckoned with. Highlights include the uninhibited weighty outburst of praise in the Gloria. This is freighted with awe. I especially enjoyed the singing of Quoniam tu solus sanctus which sounded as effectively dramatic as one could wish. The Adagio of the Agnus Dei, the conclusion to the score, has few parallels in sacred music and captures an atmosphere of spiritual serenity.

The orchestra are fully engaged with the sacred drama with no shortage of relish whilst maintaining a resolutely cohesive whole. The vitality and drive generated by Haitink are major attributes of this memorable performance. Concertmaster Anton Barachovsky adopts a pleasing, rather understated approach to his violin solos in the Benedictus — an appropriately ethereal background to the solo voices. Consistently inspiring all evening the choir is excellent and clearly well prepared.

Recorded live in the inexorably reliable acoustic of the Herkulessaal, Munich the sound team can take a bow for the satisfying, clear and reasonably well balanced sonics. The booklet that accompanies the release includes full Latin texts with German and English translations.

Previously I have not felt entirely comfortable in nominating a stand-out first choice for the Missa solemnis but this release from Haitink and his Bavarian forces is as praiseworthy as any recording I have encountered.

-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International

Haitink at 85 makes his first recording of one of music’s choral masterpieces – and what a wonderful performance his wisdom and experience offers.
– Gramophone