Classical Music

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 7, 'Leningrad'

Classical Music

This collection of music from the Caucasus features Georgian, Armenian and Azerbaijani composers whose works have long deserved a wider hearing.

Classical Music

A highly enjoyable, and, thanks to the organ, rather remarkable release.

This is a good potpourri-style introduction to the organ works of Charles-Marie Widor. Too often he is of course only remembered for the infamous Toccata from the end of the fifth symphony, all too frequently so poorly played. Good then for the general music enthusiast to have a budget price introduction to some other corners of the Widor oeuvre many of which deserve to be better known than the Toccata. The implication however, that Naxos’s vast Organ Encyclopaedia isn’t going to include a complete Widor cycle strikes me as particularly unfortunate. This is especially true given that Naxos’s library does include a complete Rheinberger cycle.

The most interesting element of this disc though is the choice of instrument. I wrote in glowing terms here about Martin Pasi’s extraordinary dual-temperament instrument in Omaha in the context of Julia Brown’s Buxtehude recording. That was recorded – mostly, I think - in meantone using the 28 stops of the organ available in that temperament. Perhaps more of a challenge to these historically-informed super-eclectic American organs is how they handle repertoire such as that on the present recording. It makes for fascinating listening!

If I’m honest, some of the sounds here are not sounds one associates with the world of Widor. However only occasionally - the mixture at the beginning of track 2 for instance - does an aesthetic clash wander into one’s consciousness enough for it to be uncomfortable. Other idiosyncrasies - the flexible winding – surely there could be a more effective stabiliser for this sort of repertoire - and even the pure thirds in the well-tempered tuning - listen to those big C major chords in the Marche Pontificale! - maybe take a little getting used to, but I managed. The overriding impression of this disc is of an organ of simply enormous panache and personality. The warmth of the 8’ stops, the effectiveness of the swell box, the sheer grunt of the pedal reeds – all are extraordinary. Pasi’s organ doesn’t really evoke Rouen, but it is a work of sheer brilliance. To quote the late, great Stephen Bicknell: “the work of Brombaugh, Fritts, Pasi, Taylor and Boody and even Fritts-Richards operates at a level of artistic quality that simply does not apply in Europe any more, despite the beacons offered by, say, Ahrend and Aubertin.” He wasn’t wrong.

The organ seems to inspire Robert Delcamp to better performances than I’ve enjoyed on his previous Naxos discs - on much lesser instruments. Occasionally still a little ‘square’, his flair for French repertoire is undeniable, and I can therefore recommend this is as a highly enjoyable, and, thanks to the organ, rather remarkable release.

Chris Bragg, MusicWeb International

Josef Foerster was by all accounts a contented soul, and this shows in his music, which is generally open and optimistic in character. Certainly the Festive Overture and the tone poem Meine Jugend fall into this category: he sounds a bit like Richard Strauss without the danger or decadence. Symphony No. 4, subtitled "Easter Eve", strikes a deeper note, and it's a lovely work. There is no competition for the two shorter pieces, which are well played and conducted and make a very good impression. Foerster lived to the ripe old age of 91, and he wrote a ton of music, so who knows what other gems are out there waiting to be discovered.

In the symphony (Foerster's best-known piece along with the tone poem Cyrano de Bergerac) conductor Lance Friedel is about six minutes slower (out of 40-plus) than Smetácek on Supraphon, and some listeners will prefer the latter's livelier tempos. (There's also an historical recording under Kubelik that really isn't competitive on account of very dated sonics.) Questions of tempo aside, if you didn't know the Smetácek you'd surely not care at all, because Friedel has the measure of the piece and projects its gentle loveliness just as effectively. Also, the vivid engineering gives the organ-reinforced conclusion plenty of the necessary gravitas, and at the Naxos price you can hardly go wrong. This is well-made, attractive music that fans of late-Romanticism should certainly hear.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

These works are so familiar--and so frequently successfully recorded--that a reviewer can almost admire the record buyer who already owns one or two versions (say, one on modern instruments and another on period) and doesn't have to sit and analyze another. Decisions, decisions: Gardiner (Philips) is just about ideal on period instruments, but Norrington (Virgin), also on period instruments, has more personality and offers some surprises from the brass. Charles Mackerras (Telarc), with modern instruments, is brightly colored. But enough about them.

Both works were composed for outdoor events--heaven knows what they sounded like. The Water Music (1715, 1717) was used to entertain royalty floating up and down the Thames; some of it may have been played indoors with supper. The Royal Fireworks Music dates from 1749 and was to be performed in Green Park to celebrate the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle; the rehearsal, a week earlier, was attended by 12,000 people. At the performance itself, the fireworks were unimpressive, but one of the pavilions caught fire. Talk about excitement.

Kevin Mallon leads a Toronto-based, 34-person group of period instrumentalists called the Aradia Ensemble on this new, bargain issue, and it's a terrific, ear-opening show. The music is, above all, joyful, with dance movements galore and plenty of giddy pomp. Mallon has rethought the tempos, almost all of which, he feels, should be quicker than we're accustomed to hearing. If you listen to the Air, the fourth movement to Suite No. 1, you'll be surprised at how good it sounds played without the usual serious "aura" that drags it down. Mallon writes in the accompanying notes that he looked at an 18th-century score for the piece and discovered it was marked "presto".


These quick tempos work most of the time, and if, for example, you overlook the fact that the alla hornpipe of the Water Music Suite No. 2 and the Rigaudon of No. 3 could only have been danced by a dancer on speed, and just listen to how effortlessly entertaining the music is, you'll love it. Mallon is not rigid in his fleetness, however: the final movement of Suite No. 1 is relaxed, and he slows it down even further for its last few seconds, giving it the stature it requires.


Mallon also adds side-drum and tambourines to a couple of the movements, and they add jollity and jauntiness; only a whiner would object. There's a thin line in this music between too ostentatious and too mild, and by keeping his forces slim and his tempos original and suited to the music, he avoids being either. When the trumpets and horns ring out they don't blare, and in La Paix from the Royal Fireworks Music, when Mallon uses transverse flutes (as suggested in the original manuscript), the effect is magical rather than just mellow. Listen to the overture of the Royal Fireworks, brass blasting, drums being banged with wooden-headed sticks, all at a military tempo that implies forward propulsion rather than combative stodginess.


If I have one criticism of the performances, it's similar to how I feel about the same conductor's recent recording of Rinaldo: the strings tend to attack softly, and I prefer more snap. Maybe I'm looking for trouble, but those slashing attacks tend to make you sit up and listen even more attentively. But these performances are wonderfully peppery nonetheless, and Naxos' absolutely natural recording captures every sound and balances the instruments ideally. This is both a bargain and a terrific reading. Highly recommended, and right to the top of the list. [3/7/2006]
--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

A pupil of Rubinstein and Tchaikovsky, and a teacher of Rachmaninov and Scriabin, Sergey Taneyev was a monumental figure in Russian music of the second half of the nineteenth century.

RODE Violin Concertos: No. 7; No. 10; No. 13 • Friedemann Eichhorn (vn); Nicolás Pasquet, cond; Southwest German RO Kaiserlautern • NAXOS 8.570469 (58:00)


Pierre Rode (1774–1830) and Rodolphe Kreutzer (1766–1831) are well known to all serious students of the violin for their technique building exercises in the form of etudes and caprices. Of the same generation were Viotti (1755–1824) with his 29 violin concertos and Pierre Baillot (1771–1842) with his L’art du violon . But they were all outdone, if not undone, by their near contemporary from Genoa, Niccolò Paganini (1782–1840). These were the standard bearers of two competing schools of violin-playing and pedagogy, one Italian, the other Franco-Belgian. Kreutzer, despite his German-sounding name, and Rode were French, as was Baillot, and their approach to the instrument would lead to Vieuxtemps and through him to Wieniawski and thence to Ysaÿe. Paganini, on the other hand, was a tough act to follow. Other than Ernesto Camillo Sivori, Paganini’s sole pupil, the only violinist-composer of note to continue in the Italian’s footsteps was the Jewish Moravian Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst (1814–1865).


Not that casual acquaintance with the works of any of these violin wizards would reveal in any obvious way the more subtle differences in the application of their practices, for envelope-pushing, finger- and bow-bending, exhibitionistic virtuosity was the order of the day and the name of the game. The never-ending pursuit of one-upmanship superseded all else; the impossible was unplayable only until it was surpassed by the next even greater impossibility. An “I’ll show you,” attitude prevailed. Yet, for all its warping of musical values, the extension of the possible in violin technique opened the door to composers who were able to incorporate those technical advances into major, serious works. I doubt that the violin concertos of Mendelssohn, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Sibelius, and others could have been written had these earlier 19th-century virtuosos not provided the necessary tools.


Though Rode studied with Viotti, he later worked with Kreutzer and Baillot at the Paris Conservatory, contributing to the school’s official Violin Method . The French “way” mitigated some of the less graceful aspects of the Italian approach by introducing a greater refinement of tone production through smoother bowing and phrasing techniques. Some insight into this can be gained from a rather unlikely source: Beethoven. Rode’s 1812–13 concert tour brought him to Vienna, and it was for the violinist’s appearances there that Beethoven composed his last violin sonata, the No. 10 in G-Major. During its composition, the composer was in contact with Rode regarding his preferred style of playing. We know this from a letter Beethoven wrote to Archduke Rudolph, complaining, “We like to have more surging passages in our finales, but R did not consent to that.” Unusual for Beethoven to yield to anyone in matters musical, but we have in this sonata a clear example of the more elegant, aristocratic style that Rode and the French school preferred.


In addition to his coauthorship of the aforementioned Violin Method and his 24 Caprices so well beloved (?) by students, Rode composed 13 violin concertos, none of which has found favor among present day players. In this, Rode has ceded the playing field to his teacher, Viotti, whose concertos—at least some of them—are performed and recorded with relative frequency. This recent Naxos CD is in fact the only recording currently listed of any of Rode’s concertos, and I sincerely hope that its release changes that, for the works on this disc are, in my opinion, more appealing and of greater musical substance than are any of Viotti’s concertos I’ve heard, and that includes his famous No. 22 in A Minor recorded many times over.


No one who listens to these Rode concertos will be disappointed by a lack of virtuoso fireworks. There’s enough double-stopping, rapid runs, and bowing tricks to satisfy even the most insatiable appetites for hire-wire circus acts. But there is also a depth and breadth to Rode’s muse, and a sophisticated air to his melodic invention that elicits a strong emotional response and strikes a genuine responsive chord. Simply put, there is some exquisitely beautiful music here. And Friedemann Eichhorn, who is new to me, plays with a sweetness of tone and expressiveness of phrasing that grace Rode’s exceptional lyricism with the delicacy of a caress, all the while skirting the technical minefields as if they didn’t exist. Nowhere does Eichhorn’s tone turn coarse or his bowing become labored, even in the most fiendishly difficult passages. This is violin-playing of a caliber to match this extraordinary music. In a single stroke, Eichhorn and Naxos have done for Rode (and for us) what should have been done long ago. It’s my fervent hope that they will see fit to give us Rode’s remaining 10 concertos.


No fancier of the violin should be without this disc. It may even show up on my 2009 Want List.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Talea, meaning "to cut" or "to carve" in Latin, is an emblematic, striking work thanks to its unique structure and orchestration. The piece is thoroughly antinomic, divided into two by its monadic and polyphonic orchestration and structure, with the wind and string instruments ever oscillating between single and spit tones. The work wonderfully illustrates the great expressiveness of spectralism, which was originally pereived as a simple experiment without any future. This work is followed by Sequenza XII for fagotto solo and Dai Fujikura's Concerto for Bassoon.

This was the score that, in a sense, started it all. Certainly by 1933 writing music for movies was not new, but Max Steiner's contribution for King Kong was more extensive, more colorful, and more musically integrated than virtually all previous examples. It was the music that took on the responsibility for creating not just atmosphere, but an entire world, and it's no mistake that this pioneering effort occurred in the fantasy/science fiction genre, a field that would be so kind to film music composers in future. To modern ears, Steiner's achievement inevitably pales a bit, just as, say, the thunderstorm in Beethoven's Sixth must yield to the one in Strauss' Alpine Symphony in terms of sheer graphic imagery. The music has a genuine period flavor, with lots of splashy percussion writing for the jungle music and for Kong himself, and true Golden Age strings for Ann Darrow. There's plenty to enjoy, from the Aboriginal Sacrificial Dance, to Stolen Love, and the marvelous extended sequence called Kong Escapes. An essential addition to any serious film music collection, it has all been lovingly restored by John Morgan, performed with gusto by William Stromberg and the Moscow Symphony, and vividly recorded by Naxos (formerly Marco Polo). Now reissued at budget price, this is irresistible. --David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

In Ivan Fedele’s long, rich artistic career of (this catalogue opens in 1980 and since then has added more than 160 titles) it is not possible to distinguish true phases. We do not know periods in which his creative interest has been concentrated predominantly, still less exclusively, on a linguistic context or a specific instrumental ensemble. We can perhaps consider as exceptions the extraordinary flowering of concertante pieces between 1996 and 1999, or that of orchestral works in the last few years, mostly concentrated in two series of pieces entitled Lexikon and Syntax. Otherwise, it has been a continuous intertwining of forms and formations, the physical substances that from time to time have best responded to the results of Fedele’s uninterrupted research. However, it is true that in the last four years (starting from 2012) he has developed a “feeling” (as the composer himself described it) for percussion, which is accompanied by a renewed interest in the piano (above all in the more complex two-piano structure) and a new, intense flowering of his never neglected “electronic” vein. This CD testifies to this absolutely contemporary vein of Ivan Fedele.

The liner notes of this release compare Alan Rawsthorne (1905–1971) to Brahms in that both composers left their first symphonies until relatively late in life. This implies that Rawsthorne was a meticulous craftsman, which is true, but also that he was awed as Brahms was by the idea of creating a post-Beethoven symphony, for which there is little evidence. In Rawsthorne’s case, a First Symphony was delayed until the composer was 45 because he came late to his trade. He was initially drawn to dentistry, and then to architecture. Rawsthorne was 20 when he entered the Manchester College of Music, and the fact that he afterwards continued his piano studies abroad with the great Egon Petri points to possible attempts at a pedagogic career, or on the concert stage. He returned to Britain in 1932, and moved to London at the age of 30—finally, with the intention of devoting himself to composition.

Rawsthorne’s Symphony No. 1 received its premiere in 1950 after a succession of orchestral works of merit: the Symphonic Studies (1938), the Piano Concerto No. 1 (1942), the Violin Concerto No. 1 (1948), and the Concerto for String Orchestra (1949). The work was hailed in print as “a major event in English musical life,” but had to wait 25 years for its first recording. It is a dense, knotty effort of great seriousness, typical of this composer in its avoidance of flamboyant rhetoric. His Symphony No. 2, subtitled “A Pastoral Symphony,” appeared in 1959: a work of greater transparency and less harmonic ambiguity than the First, with an especially beautiful slow movement and a Puckishly witty scherzo that brings Roussel to mind. The Third Symphony of 1964 is as grim, complex, and harmonically acerbic as the First, but within a less emotionally ambivalent setting, and one that employs more of the tension-release pattern of traditional symphonic development.

Rawsthorne’s style is out of Hindemith, pursuing polytonal pathways through the use of motto themes often presented in different keys, simultaneously. This gives him considerable flexibility of harmonic movement, though the unfluctuating textural intensity of the First Symphony creates an air of stasis. The lighter, more malleable Second is an exceedingly attractive piece, however, while the Third Symphony can be viewed as the First reconsidered from a higher, more experienced vantage point. Through all three works runs a sense of granitic integrity and consummate craft. Rawsthorne can certainly produce an ear-bending tune. His Second Symphony has several memorable ones. But he never relies upon a good melody to carry the weight of his musical argument, and he’s almost certain to put that melody to good contrapuntal use before he’s finished with it.

All three works were last recorded in the late 1970s and released on LP in excellent sound. Those analog performances (with the London Philharmonic in the first two symphonies and the BBC SO, led by Pritchard, Braithwaite, and Del Mar, respectively) were in turn gathered onto Lyrita SRCD291, a recording that may still be found with some foreign distributors. They are attractive readings, with Braithwaite’s Second arguably the best: a finely lyrical performance from an underrated conductor. Yet, all three readings are surpassed by David Lloyd-Jones on this new release. He emphasizes lucid textures and a proper balance of Rawsthorne’s multiple lines. This strengthens the angularity and unsettled quality in the music, giving even the congested First a sense of direction and purpose. The clarity of the digital engineering helps greatly, and the playing of the Bournemouth Symphony is first-rate. This is definitely the album to buy, with a respectful tip of the hat to Naxos for adding it to a fine series on a neglected modern master.

Barry Brenesal, FANFARE

Eugene Z�dor was a remarkable colorist and orchestrator whose Hollywood film work was extensive. He described himself as a 'middle of the road extremist'. The Aria and Allegro is a beautifully crafted work brimming with rhythmic energy. Five Contrasts for Orchestra demonstrates his rich sound world at it's most vibrant; film noir jostling with a big-booted country dance. The lighter a Children's Symphony is one of his most popular pieces - communicative, witty, accessible. We also hear two small and captivating evocations of his native Hungary. Mariusz Smolij is a founding member of the Penderecki String Quartet, former artistic director of the Lutosawski Wrocaw Philharmonic and International Festival Wratislavia Cantans, Poland, and currently serves as Music Director of the Acadiana Symphony in Louisiana and Riverside Symphonia in New Jersey.

This may not be the most harrowing version of the Eighth, but of its type it's unquestionably a great performance. Often this symphony consists of hair-raising climaxes interspersed between acres of nothingness. Not here. This symphony also is one of Shostakovich's most formally masterly and imaginative, and this performance reminds us in the most compelling way. Petrenko's flowing tempos in the first movement and passacaglia keep the music moving, not lurching, forward at all times. The 25 minutes of the first movement seem to pass by in half that time. Its opening threnody in particular has even more expressive power than usual for being phrased in long melodic arcs that never turn static.

After an aptly gawky scherzo, the toccata is as brilliant and menacing as any (with a dashingly militant central section), but it's the finale that really sets the seal on this performance. The Eighth always is a tough piece to project convincingly, but Petrenko is at his absolute best here, pacing the music perfectly and timing the climax in such a way that (for once) it doesn't sound like a less impressive recapitulation of the first movement--and this isn't because its previous occurrence is underplayed in any way. Excellent playing from all departments of the orchestra plus vividly natural engineering complete what is easily the best installment of this ongoing cycle to date.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

Although best known for his film music, William Alwyn composed five symphonies (among other concert works). Symphony No. 1 unsurprisingly marries symphonic form to an engaging dramatic narrative. The first movement's slow, quiet introduction is pregnant with anticipation of the conflict to come, while the moving Adagio features one of those irresistibly hummable movie-style tunes. And connoisseurs of classic film cannot help but conjure cinematic images as they listen to Alwyn's triumphant, brassy Allegro jubilante finale. But even without such associations, the First is a fine symphony in its own right.


The three-movement Symphony No. 3 is even more compelling. Alwyn states that he used a "new kind of 12-note system", but the resulting music is certainly not atonal. Indeed, much of it has a modal quality similar to Vaughan Williams--a similarity that extends to the music's formal plan, warlike character, and sometimes even the orchestration (the brass writing in the first movement, and the woodwind/string interplay of the finale's "scherzo" section)--all of which are reminiscent of that composer's Sixth Symphony. But Alwyn's own voice predominates, and the symphony is enjoyable for its powerfully argued rhetoric and taut thematic construction. Conductor David Lloyd-Jones certainly believes in this music, as he demonstrates in these winning performances with the excellent Royal Liverpool Philharmonic. Naxos provides first-rate sound.
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

The New Haven Symphony Orchestra (NHSO) and the Yale University Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library are pleased to collaborate on the William Walton Project. The Frederick R. Koch Collection, housed at the Beinecke Library, contains the world's largest archive of Walton's original manuscripts. This project presents a unique opportunity for Walton's music to be "brought to life," using these manuscripts as the source of preparation for performances.

Classical Music

This disc was originally available as Conifer CDCF 178.

This fourth volume in Naxos’s critically acclaimed series of Portuguese composer Luís de Freitas Branco’s orchestral music juxtaposes his magnificent Symphonic Poem in the form of variations on an Oriental Theme, Vathek, with his final symphony, an appealing masterpiece that combines Neo-classical stylishness with late Romantic richness. Álvaro Cassuto, Portugal’s finest living conductor and an authority on the classical music of his country, is an ideal interpreter of this eminently satisfying yet unaccountably neglected repertoire.

DEBUSSY: PRELUDES BOOKS 1 & 2

Great performances of this massive symphony aren’t exactly thick on the field, but my goodness, this is one of them. Vasily Petrenko and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic play with 100 percent commitment in every single bar. The first movement opens broadly, the intensity already palpable. Taking full advantage of excellent sound and a wide dynamic range (crank up the volume for this one), the central march and battle will have you sweating in your seat. The unrelentingly sustained passion that Petrenko brings to this long section triumphantly vindicates Shostakovich’s controversial vision, and at the same time makes short work of a 28-minute overall timing.

It may sound odd, but what stands out most in the scherzo (for me anyway) is the strikingly sharp pizzicato violins accompanying the shrill clarinet in the movement’s central outburst (sound sample below). Obviously this isn’t the most important idea, but the fact that Petrenko and his strings take such care to characterize even simple accompaniments helps us to understand just why this performance is so compelling. Like the first movement, the Adagio has a strikingly intense central episode, one whose contrasting power helps to sustain interest in the slow, grave outer sections. Then we come to the finale, with a thrilling, wild allegro, and a broad, take-no-prisoners coda that’s simply immense. Petrenko’s Shostakovich cycle already is one of the best out there, but this release really puts the seal on his achievement. This is absolutely essential, and as I said, it’s exceptionally well recorded to boot.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com