Includes work(s) by Ester Mägi. Ensemble: Estonian National Symphony Orchestra. Conductor: Arvo Volmer.

In Boulez's hands, this music sounds as it should: immensely expressive, enormously concentrated, totally unyielding, and utterly uncompromising.

As they used to say back in the fin de siècle, for every generation, it's art. How could one argue? Every generation has its own life and its own world and its own history and every generation has the right to its own artistic prophet. But should every generation's art appeal to the next generation, or the generation after that, or the generation after that? In his generation, Schoenberg was anathema to almost everyone not accepted into his elect band of disciples who revered him as the prophet of modern music. After his death, Schoenberg was still anathema to almost everybody except the next generation of disciples, and that generation gave the world performances of the prophet's music that made it sound as austere and forbidding as possible. But, finally, after three generations, the disciples were able to relax a bit and give the world performances of the prophet's music that made it sound as close to appealing as the music has ever gotten. In these recordings of Schoenberg's choral music by Pierre Boulez and the BBC Singers and BBC Chorus, the prophet's music still sounds like the prophet's music: immensely expressive, enormously concentrated, totally unyielding, and utterly uncompromising. But at least the music is accurately directed and accurately performed so for once it is clearly and lucidly presented, which is more than one can say for earlier recordings. And if the prophet's music still sounds forbidding to most listeners, well, there is only so much performers can do and remain faithful to the spirit of the music and of the prophet. For true believers, however, these discs will provide proof positive of the greatness of the man and the music.

-- James Leonard, AllMusic.com

Will Boulez record Pli selon pli a third time with one of his currently preferred American orchestras in Chicago or Cleveland? As his longest complete composition to date, this 'portrait of Mallarmé' seems more and more like a definitive testament to that peculiarly French kind of expressionism which Boulez has made his own, and it is already 15 years since his second recording, with Phyllis Bryn-Julson and the BBC SO, indicated a more expansive approach to its intricately woven textures, and to the tensions and balances that can be found between its strongly contrasted movements. The earlier CBS/Sony version, now reissued on CD for the first time, has a special historical status as embodying the composer's view of the work near the time of its actual completion, when forcefulness, and even ferocity, seemed to count for more as foils to the music's moments of relative restraint than the sustained densities so strongly emphasized in the second recording. Even if you have the later disc, this one is of great significance, and its value is enhanced by the addition of the potently expressive Livre pour cordes. This is only a part of what Boulez intends as a complete recasting of his youthful .work for string quartet, and, as it happens, the first of the two movements we hear in this recording was superseded in 1989 by another reworking, as yet unrecorded. Such are the delights and frustrations of the Boulez project: fortunately he has not forbidden reissue of this initial and far from negligible version of Livre.

-- Gramophone [7/1996]

BEETHOVEN: SYMPHONIES NOS 7, 8

"Perahia is a Chopin interpreter of the highest order. There is an impressive range of color and an imposing sense of order. This is highly poetic playing and an indispensable acquisition for any Chopin collection." -- The Penguin Guide to Compact Discs & DVDs

HAYDN: SONATA FOR PIANO NO 50

Classical Music

THE ROYAL EDITION - DEBUSSY: I

SOPHISTICATED LADY DUKE ELLIN

Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 17 & The Tempest

"Heifetz's recorded legacy is particularly rewarding for reasons other than the simple fact that he was a great violinist. He obviously liked to get away from standard repertoire and explore the byways of violin literature. He gave much attention to music of his own time—nothing too 'modern', mark you; and he clearly enjoyed the experience of playing chamber works with other great artists....

This charmingly slight early work [Beethoven's Serenade] is played with much affection and warmth, as is the even less substantial, even rather empty Spohr concerto...Spohr's Double Quartet, well recorded in 1968, has much more character than the concerto. Here Heifetz very much blends in with his colleagues, and if he is in charge of the extremely alive, superbly played performance it is not apparent in the final result."

-- Gramophone [9/1990]

Rescued from the vaults, ArkivMusic reissues a long lost Christmas Treasure! The Musical Christmas Tree from Morton Gould is an orchestral holiday classic. Featuring Holiday standards, this unique release includes many of Morton Gould's own arrangements as well as original compositions written for the holidays, including "Winter" from the Burchfield Gallery and "Skiers Waltz" from the Cinerama Holiday Suite.

WAGNER (trans. Gould) Siegfried Idyll, (orig.) 1 Siegfried Idyll, (trans.) Die Meistersinger: Act I Prelude. Götterdämmerung: Dawn and Siegfried’s Rhine Journey • Glenn Gould (pn, cond); Toronto SO members 1 • SONY 52650 (70:59)


I can think of no worthier nomination to Fanfare’s Classical Hall of Fame than this conductorial debut of the late, exceedingly great Glenn Gould, and also his very last recording. Gould, of course, admitted in the late 1960s to being a closet Wagnerite who often “worshipped at the shrine,” and in 1973 he set down piano transcriptions of three favorite pieces. Meistersinger was a stunner the first time I heard it, and coming off a concert with Jorge Bolet playing the Liszt transcription of Tannhäuser —and he really pounded the thing out—I was left in shocked, disappointed silence after hearing Gould’s shimmering, nuanced, hyper-contrapuntal version of Wagner’s most Baroque work. Since then I have come to admire it to no end, a brilliant conception that brings out things you will not hear in any other recording, orchestral or not. Wagner’s orchestration actually gets in the way of everything there, and Gould admitted that when he prepared to play it, it was a question of “what do I leave out this time,” as there were not enough hands, even his own long fingers, to cover all the parts. “Dawn” is just as persuasive if not as extroverted in its intricacy, and the piano sounds just wonderful.


Siegfried is matched in its slow tempo only by Gould’s orchestra reading. Here he turns this transcription into a marvelous tone poem, drawing each and every strand of meaning out of every bar, always cognizant of the overarching structure and subtle phrasing, both Gould trademarks. You can almost come to accept this piece as meant for the piano, so convincing is his reading. Siegfried for chamber orchestra, in its original guise, is given to us in one of the slowest readings on record (Gould liked to temper the tempo in many works), and one can hear the Toronto players straining to bring every ounce of intensity to Gould’s concentrated leadership. Somehow he makes it work, and as a testimony to his extraordinary talent and career, this beautifully conceived album is mandatory in any collection worthy of the name.


FANFARE: Steven E. Ritter

This disc includes both ADD and DDD recordings.

...I ought to mention the various overtures which serve as makeweights—intensely dramatic recreations these, of which The Consecration of the House struck me as particularly fine despite the constricted sonics. It comes with Stern's now classic Beethoven Violin Concerto, a warm, confident, and (on Bernstein's part) sometimes bluff rendition. There is some rapt playing from a soloist then in his prime, an intriguing textual oddity in the coda of the first movement (the familiar 'unauthentic' cello line is similarly absent from Kyung Wha Chung's recent EMI account) and some mildly distracting tape hiss (suppressed during the cadenzas where the image shifts as if Stern has been transported to another studio).

-- Gramophone [11/1992]

A decade or so ago, a recital of Franck and Liszt from Murray Perahia might have caused some surprise. But one of the most refreshing things about this artist is his growing refusal to be typecast. The Franck (like all but two of the Liszt pieces) was recorded at The Maltings in Snape, a venue he knows and likes so well. This I enjoyed for its stylish reminders of the composer's long devotion to the Church—i.e. for a strain of simple devoutness, free from all heart-on-sleeve emotionalism, with which he invests the first two movements. The central choral is allowed an easy flow, and I liked his dynamic restraint in the first two statements of the chorale theme itself so as to leave plenty in reserve for the characteristically Franckian emergence from darkness into light as the work progresses. Discreet pedalling ensures that texture never clots in the fugue, and the homecoming is truly joyous.

The rest of the 60 minutes go to Liszt, and here my only slight (but only very slight) disappointment came in the Mephisto Waltz, recorded in UCLA's Royce Hall in Los Angeles. Needless to say it is played with all Perahia's customary command, finesse and what I can only describe as aristocratic musical discernment. Yet I still felt that just that last touch of devilry was missing on the dance-floor (even more piquant accentuation might perhaps have helped), and likewise the ultimate in lingering sensuous seduction in Liszt's "lascivious, caressing dreams of love". For the rest I have nothing but praise—starting with the cutting intensity Perahia brings to the melodic line in Petrarch's tale of unrequited love ("Sonetto 104"). By comparison, Louis Lortie on Chandos (in a less forward and less sharp-cut sounding recent Maltings recording) seems to shrink from this sonnet's acutest disquiet and pain—such as in the passage marked agitato, and then crescendo and rinforzando from about 3'46"-4'17" in track 5 of Perahia's disc. Perahia's liquidity in "Au bard d'une source" and shimmering whispers in the first Concert Study, "Waldesrauschen" (as spacious as Arrau's—now part of the Philips Arrau Edition) are wholly ravishing as sound per se, while "Gnomenreigen" in its turn brings reminders of that delicately scintillating brilliance that always gave him a place apart when gambol ling with Mendelssohn in concerto finales. His range of keyboard colour in the concluding Rhapsodic espagnole (the second and finer of Liszt's pair) is as ear-catching as are his rhythmic spring, his teasing caprice and his exuberant climaxes.

Full marks to his engineers for so faithfully capturing so wide a dynamic range—and, incidentally, to Sony for including so generously spacious a booklet (with full quotations from Lenau, Petrarch and Schiller).

-- Joan Chissell, Gramophone [10/1991]

Casals was as much at home conducting as he was playing cello, and this performance is imbued with the same bold and emphatic shaping, vigorous rhythmic drive and concern for the overall musical shape of the work being performed.

...The lion's share of the release is taken up by five CDs with Casals conducting. The repertoire is solidly mainstream: Beethoven Symphonies Nos. 1, 2, 4, 6, 7 and 8, Schubert's Fifth and Mendelssohn's Italian, and the Brahms Haydn Variations. These recordings are important if for no other reason than for documenting the work of one of the most powerful musical personalities of this century, who went on making music until his death in 1973 at the remarkable age of 96.

Casals was as much at home conducting as he was playing cello, and these performances are all imbued with the same characteristics as Casals's solo playing. They are very forthright with bold and emphatic shaping, vigorous rhythmic drive and concern for the overall musical shape of the work being performed. On the other hand, tempos are at times leisurely and there is a tendancy 'to enjoy the view'. This is very much an interpretative style more common to the first half of this century than the second. One feels that Casals is talking the same musical language as some of his great contemporaries such as Mengelberg and Furtwangler if without their personal idiosyncracies.

-- Gramophone [6/1991]
reviewing the Sony series of Marlboro 40th Anniversary CDs, which includes the present disc

Carter: Symphony of Three Orchestras - Varèse: Deserts, Equa

In every respect, this is superb. Here is not merely a wonderful souvenir of a special event but a thing of joy forever.

In every respect, this is superb: a 'must'. I recently listened to DG's historic issue of VPO Johann Strauss ((D 435 335-2GWP2), reviewed enthusiastically in February by RO. Here the present needs fear nothing from the past. Indeed Carlos Kleiber combines in one baton, miraculously, every attribute of his predecessors—his father Erich's discipline and élan, Krauss's Schwung, Karajan's elegance, Boskovsky's lift and Krips's insinuating charm. Anyone who saw and heard the concert on television (the video incidentally will be released on Philips) will know just how delightfully Kleiber, with his unorthodox, seemingly effortless methods, achieves his aims and how willingly his complaisant orchestra responds to his peculiar gifts.

If I had to decide between so many winners, I might choose Eine Tausend und eine Nachi for the translucency of its introduction and the champagne elation of its main section, and Spharenklange for ethereal wonder. But then there is the irresistible verve of the Pizzicato Polka where the rubato is perfectly judged, and the tremendous panache of Unter Donner und Blitz. Is there a touch of the mannered just once or twice, as in the opening bars of The Blue Danube? If so, it is usually justified as a means to an entirely convincing end—in this case a familiar piece given with a swooning spontaneity that invites the body to sway with the music.

To crown one's pleasure, the recording is faultless: it has presence, warmth, depth, and captures ideally a sense of the occasion. Here is not merely a wonderful souvenir of a special event but a thing of joy forever. And now if you'll excuse me, I shall go and listen to it again.

-- Gramophone [4/1992]

Iconoclastic takes on Romantic masterpieces that are at times infuriating, other times mesmerizing, often both.

Recordings taken from CBC television transmissions from CBC Studios, Toronto on December 9th, 1970 and September lst-4th, 1967.

While most of us turn gratefully to music we cherish and admire, Glenn Gould often performed and even recorded music he despised. And reading his accompanying comments - an infuriating mix of brilliance and jargon, insight and psycho-babble - the omens are not good. "Whenever Chopin tackled large-scale forms and tried to write pieces demanding a high degree of organization he almost invariably came to grief." To illustrate his point Gould chooses the Third Sonata, anaesthetizes it and after "freezing up the heat of life" applies his surgeon's scalpel. Chopin's occasional flutter with a form of romantic polyphony (the start of the development of the first movement) momentarily engages his sympathy, but elsewhere the essentially vocal conception of keyboard writing and the ecstatic entwining of melody and counter-melody are clearly viewed as frivolous. The overall result is so literal and Teutonic that it left this listener, at least, stranded, gasping for air and longing to break Gould's stranglehold. His didacticism in the finale's exultant bravura is notably perverse and rarely have I heard a performance by a great pianist that more obviously declares his limitations.

Gould's Mendelssohn is scarcely less cramped (though he responds to the hymnal pieties of the Song without Words. op. 30 No. 3 with surprising warmth) but his Scriabin is, arguably, as mesmeric as it is strange. All listeners nurtured on an ultraromantic Russian tradition will jettison Gould's alternative and spring more than a few questions. Why so ponderous in the powerfully striding drammatico rhythm of the Third Sonata's opening? Since when is a languorous Andantino the same as Presto con allegrezza in the Fifth Sonata? From anyone else such things would be unacceptable. But from Gould you pause to reconvene, to reconsider and note that there is nothing random or inchoate about his conclusions. Both these performances, together with some wintry Prokofiev, hold a powerful and compelling fascination.

The final record contains a damp squib rather than a jeu d'esprit (the Strauss Burleske was another work that gave Gould heartache rather than joy) and a heavily personalized, monochrome Beethoven Emperor Concerto. Here, once again, are rhythms in the opening flourishes articulated like so much phonetic spelling and a deliberately poker-faced, uninflected response to the Adagio's espressivo. Conductor and orchestra fight to match their soloist's aggression but end sounding tubthumping and militaristic. Gould was, incidentally, a last-minute replacement in the Beethoven for the ever-indisposed Michelangeli, a situation that provoked the impish riposte from Gould, "My God, just think that the Number One pianist is going to substitute for Number Two". All these discs contain either previously unreleased material or first authorized issues.

-- Gramophone [4/1996]

Sibelius: Greatest Hits

DMITRY SHOSTAKOVICH: CHAMBER S

Rimsky-Korsakov: Scheherazade, Op. 35, Russian Easter Festiv

Classical Music

As an old man Charles Koechlin wrote: "One of the most dreadful diseases of our day is the desire to be modern", but he was no starchy conservative. Far from it, in fact - Koechlin counted among his friends virtually all the leading French musicians of his day, old and young, adventurous and less so, and acknowledged and even assimilated all the trends. He was a big fan of the burgeoning Hollywood film industry - witness the many works or movements named after popular actresses - and became president of the Popular Music Federation in France.

He also wrote a fair bit for Adolphe Sax's recently-invented instrument, praising it in his academic writing as "a timbre that no other can replace". All such solo works in his corpus are brought together on this new bargain-priced triple CD from Brilliant Classics, one of a wave of recent releases featuring this most underrated of French composers' music.

In fact, although this set has much to recommend it musically, it is not quite the bargain it might have been. For one thing, there is a fair amount of 'recycling', from the piano and chamber orchestra versions of the two saxophone sonatinas to the Sept Pièces, originally intended for horn. More importantly, though, the array of recording dates and venues has thrown up some inconsistencies in sound quality. There is actually quite severe distortion towards the end of the Wind Septet, where the microphones just cannot cope with a combination of volume and high pitches. There is similar loss at the end of op.165bis, and a small amount in the flute during Epitaphe. Timpani's engineers, on their virtually simultaneous recording of the Septet (1C1193), show Brilliant how it should be done.

On the whole, however, considering that this release can be found on the internet, by the alert shopper, for around the same price as a single Naxos disc, these audio issues, once noted, may be worth disregarding for access to Koechlin's marvellous music, certainly until new recordings come along. After all, the aforementioned distortion only affects a few minutes' worth of music, and sound quality of the first two CDs is uniformly impressive. Capturing well both saxophone and piano is no simple task.

In any case, it is hard to imagine anyone not liking Koechlin's music, whether for saxophone or any other instruments: all of the late-period pieces heard here are immensely melodic and idiomatic, uncomplicated on the surface yet expressive of a considered intelligence that writes for listeners and performers as well as self. In this way he can be compared with Saint-Saëns, to whom he came to bear a physical likeness in later years - though with a much more impressive beard.

There are many highlights, such as the 24 Duos, which combine SATB instruments in various pairings. These should be required study for all saxophonists, yet they are far superior to mere didactics. Ditto the 15 Etudes, which are a collection of beautiful cameos rather than studies in the more academic sense. The 7 Pieces are even more strikingly memorable, like Koechlin's most popular Epitaphe: nostalgic, sometimes haunting works that are however "full of the visionary hope that leads to optimism, energy and joy as vital antidotes to the problems of everyday life", as annotator Robert Orledge aptly sums up the composer's music. It is worth noting that, unlike some, nowhere in any of these works does Koechlin make use of the platitudes and clichés of the jazz instrument.

As the CD cover implies, star of the show on these three discs is saxophonist David Brutti, who appears as soloist, as one half of the Duo Disecheis, a quarter of the Atem Saxophone Quartet and even in the ensemble of the Orchestra Città Aperta. His tonal colourings are lustrous and luxurious, his phrasing natural and gratifying. Running a close second is Filippo Farinelli, pianist or conductor on numerous tracks. The booklet notes are in English only, but informative and well written, supplemented by detailed biographies of all performers.

Of Koechlin - whose Alsace-originating name is pronounced as if spelt Kéclin (rhyming with French 'né' and nasal 'vin') - British critic Wilfrid Mellers wrote that he counts "among the very select number of contemporary composers who really matter". For 1942 this was a particularly prescient remark, and it is high time he was allowed to take his rightful place in the pantheon alongside Fauré, Debussy, Ravel and Saint-Saëns.

– Byzantion, MusicWeb International