Harris Goldsmith writes in his note: "This 1948 version is almost completely without mishap. Indeed, there is ample reason to consider it the finest of the Maestro's achievements with this monumental Masterpiece [the Requiem]. The pacing resembles that of the November 23rd, 1940 performance in it's nobility and unhurried breadth.

RESPIGHI: GLI UCCELLI, ETC T

The substantial opening Moderato of the Flute Concerto (commissioned and premiered by Galway in 1992 with Slatkin and the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra) starts and finishes like some lost instalment from Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet, but the bulk of the movement is given over to a wistful chaconne which Liebermann then proceeds to work out with a graceful fluency and imaginative resource that will surprise no one already familiar with the thirdmovement passacaglia of Liebermann's impressive Second Piano Concerto. If the two remaining movements aren't perhaps on quite the same level of inspiration, the solo writing is grateful, the scoring stylish and the whole work makes a most appealing addition to the genre.

In many ways, the Piccolo Concerto (1996) shares the same ground-plan as that of the Flute Concerto, its first two movements again displaying a mastery of variation technique, followed by a wittily ebullient finale (which quotes from Mozart's Symphony No. 40, Beethoven's Eroica and Sousa's The Stars and Stripes Forever). The central Adagio is especially reminiscent of Shostakovich in its icily atmospheric chill, but there are strong echoes of the Russian master throughout (whom Liebermann openly acknowledges as 'one of my biggest musical influences').

Galway is his usual immaculate self, as effortlessly assured an exponent of the piccolo as he is a flautist. Moreover, the London Mozart Players respond with enthusiasm under the composer's shapely lead.

-- Gramophone [2/1999, reviewing the Liebermann works]

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In this expert, sweet-toned and affectionate music-making, these fine artists audibly enjoy themselves hugely, responding to Arnold's idiomatic and resourceful writing as to the manner born. I especially enjoyed Galway and friends in the sparkling early Three Shanties for wind quintet (written in 1943 for the composer's LPO colleagues) and the delicious Divertimento for flute, oboe and clarinet (1953). Cast in six pithy movements (and masterfully played here), the latter piece contains invention of great freshness and charm, with definite echoes of the English Dances from the same period.

In the wistful central Andante of the First Flute Concerto (1954), Sir Neville Marriner and his beautifully prepared Academy strings provide a poignant backdrop to Galway's ravishing playing, and this music's kinship with the great slow movement of Arnold's Second Symphony (completed the previous year) is most perceptively brought out.

-- Gramophone [4/1998, reviewing the Arnold works]

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...it goes without saying that Galway's personality and virtuosity are commanding... He gives a brilliant and confident account of the 1926 Concerto, and here also serves as conductor...

-- Gramophone [2/1988, reviewing the Nielsen concerto]

[In Suor Angelica] Popp and Patané himself are the main attractions. She...is touching throughout and moving by the end.

-- Gramophone [9/1997]

"The unique item on the Starker disc is the first ever recording of the Bartok Viola Concerto in the cello version prepared by the man who originally completed Bartok's sketches of this work, Tibor Serly. I am surprised to find that—according to the notes accompanying the disc—it was published some 30 years ago, but never taken up until Starker started playing it. There is a strong case for preferring the cello version, when the lower register gives extra warmth to the melodic writing, notably in the Adagio religioso slow movement. If Starker shows a degree of emotional restraint in the Dvorak—almost as though he no longer finds the piece quite so fresh—his performance of the Bartok is stirringly expressive, very idiomatically Hungarian in the rhythmic pointing and linking of contrasted sections. He is brilliantly backed up by Slatkin and the St Louis orchestra who offer some alert playing. I hope now that cellists may take up this version more widely, both in concert and on disc, even though that would be hard luck on viola players, whose repertory is even sparser."

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [3/1992]

...an appealing balance between theatrical vivacity and stylistic refinement. In 1977, when the recording sessions were held, the microphones caught Popp and Jerusalem in pristine estate...

-- Allan Ulrich, Los Angeles Times [9/24/1989]

SCHUBERT: SYMPHONY NO 5, ETC

"For this May 1973 concert, the two veteran instrumentalists, Josef Suk and János Starker, chose the then only 27-year-old Rudolf Buchbinder as their pianist to complete the trio. The performances are full of sensitive – and when necessary – forceful music-making. Three famed soloists playing masterworks from the piano trio repertoire A further highlight from the Schwetzingen SWR Festival concert series Musically outstanding presentations"

According to Roger Lustig's well-researched programme notes, Mozart's self-declared dislike for the flute says more about the circumstances surrounding the composition of his works for the instrument than it does about any real hatred for the instrument itself. Furthermore, the performances of the Flute Quartets by James Galway and the Tokyo Quartet, here under review, speak equally eloquently for Mozart's evident care in their composition—this despite Hans Keller's dismissal of them.

The first two quartets, K285 and K285a were written in 1776/7 for the Dutch nobleman Dejean. The playing here is full of Mozartian grace and sensuous melodiousness. At the beginning of the possibly inauthentic C major Quartet, K285b, Galway achieves a delightful liquid quality. The later Quartet, K298 is more substantial and draws playing of haunting intensity from Galway and the Tokyo. The slow tempo of this Quartet's second movement is slower than in the Bennett/Grumiaux version on Philips whose performance has a much more jaunty feel to it. Galway's disc is rounded off with his own arrangement of the Oboe Quartet, K370, whose sumptuous slow movement and elegant finale make this an attractive added bonus. One minor reservation: it is useful to have individual variations separately tracked (K285b.2 and K298.1) but, in the earlier Quartet, there is an annoying click on my disc as the tracks change.

The principal difference between the Galway/ Tokyo and the Bennett/Grumiaux versions reflects the recordings and the circumstances surrounding them. Galway's choice of slower tempos might well have been conditioned, at least in part, by the spacious church acoustic in which it was recorded. The Bennett/Grumiaux was recorded in 1969, but the digital transfer is excellent. These are both fine discs, so choice will be determined by personal taste.'

-- Gramophone [6/1993]

How very good to be reminded of the young Van Cliburn's legendary wrists, fingers and blazing inner fire.

We're told that it was with MacDowell's Second Piano Concerto in D minor that Van Cliburn made his first professional appearance with an orchestra at the age of 18, some six years before ''vaulting to fame'' as winner of Moscow's first Tchaikovsky Contest in 1958. This recording was made just two years after that when he was still only 26—albeit already two years older than the precociously gifted composer himself at the time of the concerto's composition. Yes, I agree with Roger Fiske (in his review of the catalogue's only other version from Donna Amato and the LPO on Olympia/Complete Record Co, 6/87) that the work lacks an immediately recognizable face of its own. But in its bold scoring and bravura writing for the soloist, it is scarcely less arresting than any of its big romantic rivals—or so it seems in this exhilarating performance. How very good to have it on CD at last and to be reminded of the young Van Cliburn's legendary wrists, fingers and blazing inner fire. For the familiar little ''To a Wild Rose'' he finds a touching simplicity.

The Schumann Concerto was recorded just six months before the MacDowell, with Reiner instead of Hendl as conductor. Here again it's Van Cliburn's exceptional youthful ardour and elan that immediately strike home. The first movement is brought to an unusually brilliant end. But neither here nor in the finale does virtuosity take precedence: always the music speaks. Only the Intermezzo seems to need tenderness of a slightly more intimately feminine kind. The orchestral contribution is splendid throughout, and full marks go to the RCA engineers for their digital remastering.'

-- Joan Chissell, Gramophone (10/1991)

Along with Horowitz's famous interpretation, Van Cliburn's is one that makes every bar of the Barber Sonata really speak. Even in an excessively dry recording he manages to suggest an epic dimension, with song, dance, struggle and celebration held in admirable balance.

And it is not just the Barber which makes this an exceptionally desirable reissue. Cliburn's Mozart is beautifully shaded, scrupulously stylish and sensitive to harmonic pulls towards the dark side; and his Debussy is both supple and suavely textured, with a wonderfully judged rhapsodic abandon in ''La soiree dans Grenade''. I could understand some listeners finding the Mozart a little too well-scrubbed and toy-soldierish in places, and there is a tendency for shapes in the Debussy pieces to be too spasmodic—the Octaves Study is not helped by an exaggerated response to caesuras, and ''Jardins sous la pluie'' is too fast and marred by persistent mis-reading of B sharps as B naturals. But all that detracts very little from a truly distinguished souvenir of Cliburn's artistry.

-- Gramophone (5/1991)

This recording was formerly available as EMI-Deutsche Harmonia Mundi 47878.

Classical Music

Géza Anda was among the small group of 20th Century pianists whose playing and artistic point of view became a seminal force for future generations. Anda's live performances presented a balance of spontaneity and reflection achieved through his complete devotion to realizing the composer's creative vision. Anda's interpretation of Ravel's Concerto for the Left Hand and Orchestra is a fascinating addition to his discography, providing new insights to this haunting score and Anda's extraordinary interpretive abilities.

Will be one of my discs of the year without doubt.

I have to admit to this being the disc I have most eagerly awaited hearing for some months. That being the case I am delighted to be able to report that it has fulfilled all my expectations if not exceeded them – let us all hope that the titling of this as ‘Volume 1’ really does augur well for an extended series of discs by this unique composer.
 
In recent years there has been a steady trickle of Brian’s orchestral works appearing on CD but when you dig a little deeper it becomes clear that these are in effect re-releases of performances where the originals date back some years. So in fact it is nearly ten years since the last ‘new’ recording – Psalm 23 on ClassicO [recorded 2002], then back into the 1990s for the abortive Marco Polo/Naxos ‘Brian Cycle’, the 1980s for EMI’s brief flurry of interest using the RLPO, and the 1970s for the Leicestershire and Hull Schools Symphony Orchestra’s brave traversal of several discs with Unicorn-Kanchana and CBS. This is by no means a complete survey but it gives you a sense of the piece-meal attempts to commit Brian to disc.  

Toccata Classics are proving to be valiant disciples of the Brian cause both on disc and in print. Recently I had the pleasure of reviewing the superb Havergal Brian on Music: Volume Two which Toccata have published. Both that project and this have been instigated under the watchful eye and guiding hand of the Havergal Brian Society and Brian expert Malcolm MacDonald. As part of the book review I commented - has ever a composer been so fortunate in their biographer / promoter as Brian with MacDonald? His knowledge, insight and understanding of this shamelessly idiosyncratic composer is little short of stupendous. That sense of dedication suffuses every element of this recording from the fascinating choice of repertoire on this well programmed CD to the fine engineering supporting excellent playing from the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra.  

I have to admit that I have not heard any of this music before so I have no frame of reference with which to compare the current performances. Suffice to say there is an air of ‘rightness’ and conviction that is vital to bringing off this often quirky music. Having read the two volumes of Brian’s critical writings has only increased my appreciation of him as a composer. I have a suspicion that even among his more famous composer contemporaries he was the most knowledgeable about the latest developments in the musical scene. His journalistic writing shows him as an enthusiastic supporter of an extraordinarily wide and diverse range of then contemporary music. This, to my mind, adds significantly to his stature as a composer in his own right for instead of producing a mish-mash of musical influences his own work remains strikingly independent. It is well-known that he was largely self-taught as a composer but the choices he makes; structurally, harmonically or melodically are never made through ignorance instead they are guided by a quirky individualism. And therein lies the rub for the listener new to his sound-world; it can often seem that musical material is juxtaposed in a random and almost obtuse manner. Here is where Malcolm MacDonald proves to be such a valuable guide. Whether in this liner or in his definitive 3 volume study of the Brian Symphonies he makes it clear that in what might initially seem ramshackle and even chaotic there is actually a very sophisticated control of form and structure. Brian is dancing to a different tune and it can take the listener some time to ‘hear’ his message. Conductor Garry Walker has become fully attuned to the Brian idiom. As mentioned before these are strikingly confident and convincing performances – orchestras are phenomenally skilled these days but to project such security and conviction as is heard throughout this disc requires those exact same qualities to be projected from the conductor’s podium. It is rare indeed that such complex and demanding music is first heard played as here and it adds considerably to the positive impact of the disc. On the evidence of this disc Walker proves himself to be an interpreter of distinction.

Another remarkable thought is the fact that the works performed here span an astonishing 65 years. The earliest work is the 1903 Burlesque Variations on an Original Theme. Never performed in Brian’s lifetime this is its first professional performance. But why? Some Brian can be tough to digest on first sitting but not this work – it has instant appeal. Written when Brian was 27 it represents his first effort at large-scale orchestral composition. He scored the work for a large romantic orchestra with triple wind, standard brass – but including four trumpets – extended percussion, two harps and organ. Lasting some twenty-five minutes and consisting of a theme and seven variations this is a well balanced and fascinatingly wide-ranging piece. Yes there are moments where the orchestration feels opaque and indeed clumsy but these are repeatedly offset by passages of remarkable power, mystery and beauty. Why Burlesque Variations? – MacDonald offers a fascinating opinion; variation form recurs often in Brian’s works and usually he chose to take a banal/simple tune and then expand the seemingly limited potential of that melody beyond all expectation. Hence the Fantastic Variations of 1907 – based on ‘Three Blind Mice’ or The Symphonic Variations of 1916 – based on ‘Has anybody here seen Kelly?’ are just two examples. It is as if Brian is trying a kind of alchemy transforming the base material of a simple song into musical gold. Yes, the influences are often clearer here than in later Brian and clearly Elgar provided a model but I am pushed to think of any other work by a twenty-seven year old British composer from around the turn of that century of such confident quality. Although I know others will disagree I find Josef Holbrooke’s music to have an empty bombast and reliance on musical effect to which Brian never resorts while York Bowen is interesting and appealing but never challenging in the way Brian is. The closing pages of these variations do try to lift the simple tune onto a grandiose level which is beyond both the melody and the composer (at this stage in his career) but elsewhere there are brilliantly achieved musico-dramatic effects. Try Variation 2 – Tempesto and the simply gorgeously poignant Variation 3 – Elegy that follows. The latter is the emotional heart of the work and opens as a gently regretful valse triste very much in the style of the Nedbal or Sibelius works of that name before building to a powerful strenuous climax way outside the remit of those pieces. The return to the reflective opening is typical Brian in the rapid change of emotional direction before he builds it back to a climax of cinematic splendour. Subtle it is not but hard the heart not to be moved on some level – I love it. Curiously the London publisher Bosworth published the suite which contains Nedbal’s work in 1903 and it became the composer’s biggest hit. But the similarity is one of form nothing more. But it does point up another fact worth considering here; Brian’s music never sounds “English” in the pastoral sense of the word. More ‘stout and steaky’ than ‘cowpat’.

Chronologically, the next work on the disc dates from exactly fifty years later. How typically perverse of Brian in austerity Britain to produce a work that by title alone would seem to belong to the light music world of Edward German or Percy Fletcher. For sure this is lighter music than much of Brian’s output but it has far more substance and muscle than the bulk of the light music repertoire. Not that it is at all in tune with the prevailing trends in 1950s contemporary music either. Again, one has the abiding sense of Brian writing music that suited himself when it suited him. This proves to be another piece of instant appeal with the heart of the work being the second movement Reverie. Throughout the whole work and the orchestral writing – angularly expressive but with awkward parts for solo instruments and some thrilling brass scoring – there is a scale and sweep that is very impressive. Clearly this is not meant to be a work uttering the profoundest thoughts and feelings of the composer but it does show the confidence and expertise with which Brian handled his resources. I would suggest ignoring the titles – I couldn’t help wondering if Brian has used such deliberately twee and diminutive headings in a provocative and ironic manner. Here is another curious parallel – the central pair of movements are scored first for strings alone – the aforementioned Reverie, and then wind and horns - Restless Stream. Vaughan Williams did much the same in his almost exactly contemporaneous Symphony No.8 – although the wind scherzo comes first before the string Cavatina. Not that we can accuse Vaughan Williams of any kind of plagiarism – Brian’s Suite was not to be heard for twenty years (neither can the accusation be reversed – the Vaughan Williams was not premiered until 1956). The closing Village Revels is also the final music on the disc – again ignore the title, this is quite unlike any revel I can imagine but it provides an exciting conclusion to all the works here.

MacDonald explains Brian’s recurring use of the term Elegy to describe movements or individual works. This was the title ultimately given to a 1954 composition originally called A song of sorrow. Brian renamed it some sixteen years later when reassessing his back catalogue with a view to publication. The rationale being that the original title implied a kind of emotional one-dimension that does not encompass the full range of this very impressive work. MacDonald points towards a definition that encompasses both the classical laments of Ovid and the romantic poetic works of Goethe and others. As a critic Brian wrote enthusiastically about Busoni and MacDonald sees a link with such works as that composer’s Nocturne Symphonique or the Sarabande and Cortege. But influence or inspiration is all this link should be seen as. Again Brian has produced a work as striking in its individuality as its expressive power. Jagged and rugged energy courses through this work. There are more of the typical Brian Symphonic fingerprints here, a sense of a restless quest the music searching and unstable. Yet at the same time there is an underlying feel of something grand and ceremonial. MacDonald sees it as a long slow struggle from C minor to the light of C major. Elsewhere on the disc I am a little uneasy about Brian’s penchant for almost hyper-active percussion writing. By my reckoning the percussion should point a moment in the score – dynamic alone need not be a factor – for Brian there seems to be a percussive ‘happening’ in nearly every bar. But here, massed side-drums set against tip-toeing xylophone creates some rather special effects. Again I have nothing but praise for the bravura confidence of the playing of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. There is some truly thrilling brass writing here dispatched with total aplomb. Much as I enjoy the discovery of the Variations on this disc if I had to choose one work to represent Brian it would be this Elegy. As this represents its first recording I would suggest that that alone is enough to merit buying this disc.

My only relative musical disappointment on this disc was with the Legend: Ave atque vale which opens it. In its own right it is remarkable because it is the work of a ninety two year old man. The title which means ‘hail and farewell’ is taken from Catallus’ poetic elegy to his drowned brother written in about 56 BC. MacDonald describes it as being ‘crammed to bursting point with disparate ideas’ which is a sympathetic way of saying perhaps it has not been edited or structured with as much discipline as earlier works. To my ear – given that this is NOT a judgment borne of extended familiarity – it sounds too rambling and disparate in its elements. Here the percussion has an absolute field day throughout without really justifying their continuous presence in musical terms. Possibly this is the kind of work that Brian’s detractors might single out as showing his weaknesses. However, it has the great good sense not to outstay its welcome and by representing just seven minutes of over an hour of vintage Brian no collector need hesitate on this piece’s account. On a positive note it does act as an extraordinary tribute to the undying vitality and individuality of Brian to very end of his long life.

Hopefully, it will be clear by now that I consider this a very special disc – exactly the kind of high quality combination of rare repertoire, performance and technical presentation that collectors hope for. For those as yet unfamiliar with the Havergal Brian I think this could act as an excellent introduction. On the recent Testament release of the famous Boult/BBC performance of Brian’s legendary Gothic Symphony the disc concludes with an interview with the composer where he underlines the fact that he wrote music with little or no expectation of hearing it performed. Instead he was responding a personal creative imperative that could not be denied. How gratified he would be to know that finally his music is beginning to receive the attention is deserves. A Volume 2 from this same team is essential and this current disc will be one of my discs of the year without doubt.

  -- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International

SCHUBERT: SYMPHONY NO 5, ROSAM

"[This collection] shows Richard Stoltzman, with his succulent tone and infectious bravura (so easily displayed in the finale of the Weber and the very operatic Rossini Variations), at his best...One tends to think of Weber's concertos as being rather more than halfway between the classical and romantic traditions, here the romanticism is very much in the ascendent. But overall the performance of the F minor Concerto combines a lively impetus in the outer movements with warmth in the Adagio whilst the orchestra—notably the horns—add much to the listener's enjoyment."

-- Ivan March, Gramophone [10/1989]

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

"The Italians embraced the transverse flute rather more cautiously than others, but when they did it was with characteristic enthusiasm; there are plenty more concertos where these six came from. The attribution of the Pergolesi is unqualified in the statement of contents; the annotator states that it was ''attributed to'' him, but Grove lists it as ''extremely doubtful''; it also describes the Tartini work as ''dubious'', but no hint of this is offered in the inlay-booklet. Regarding Romano Antonio Piacentino and his concerto, even that august dictionary is entirely unhelpful. The concerto proves that he existed and its style places him somewhere in the eighteenth century, but that is all. His ability to create something agreeable out of thematic commonplaces recalls Vivaldi. With Tartini and Piacentino we are in the world of the straightforward baroque instrumental concerto, while 'Pergolesi' and Galuppi show traces of operatic connections. Little is known of Louis Gianella (?1778-1817), a flautist who worked at La Scala in Milan, whose curious and otherwise unrecorded Concerto lugubre patently links his two compositional fields—those of the theatre (opera and ballet) and with-flute instrumental music, which includes two other flute concertos...Galway plays with his accustomed silver-tongued panache and has the benefit of the co-operation of both I Solisti Veneti and the recording engineers at their best."

John Duarte, Gramophone [4/1994]

The Private Collection, Vol. 1

Günter Wand recorded Schubert’s Ninth (officially) three times: in Cologne, with the orchestra of NDR, and finally with the Berlin Philharmonic. All three are excellent: naturally paced, beautifully proportioned between movements in what remains one of the trickiest pieces in the repertoire, and (particularly the latter two performances) splendidly played. The Cologne performance is available as part of Wand’s complete Schubert symphony cycle with that orchestra. The Berlin performance has gotten most of the attention, largely because at the end of his life Wand was given the “privilege” of working with that great orchestra. It also comes in tandem with an equally fine “Unfinished” Symphony at two discs for the price of one. This has left the NDR recording out in the cold, relatively speaking, which is a pity because it’s the best of the three.

You can hear the difference pretty clearly in the two sound clips comparing the end of the first movement in both performances. The Berlin outing is distinctly heavier, more “Brucknerian,” the strings playing with an excess of legato, the brass sonorities blended rather than distinct. The NDR version, by contrast, is a touch livelier, more sharp rhythmically, with trumpets and trombones adding individual tone colors to the general tutti. Ultimately it comes down to questions of taste. In my opinion, the Berlin sonority gives too much prominence to the strings, and despite exquisite solo playing by individual wind players (the oboe in the second movement, for instance), the general impression is more soft-edged and less true to Schubert’s idiosyncratic scoring. The NDR musicians are hardly inferior, and on this occasion they simply turn in a more colorful performance of this particular work. The sonics are excellent in all three of Wand’s performances, but if you can find it the NDR version is the one you should add to your collection.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

MARILYN HORNE - ROSSINI RECITA

Selections recorded April 25-29, 1992 and July 23, 1993.

WALTON: VIOLIN CONCERTO, ORCHE

A woodland stream, a word from Joyce, ships' horns in Beirut harbour, architectural sketches: the composer Oliver Schneller frequently proceeds from extra-musical patterns, models, and objects trouves in his search for ‘the song present in all things’. Yet he is equally far removed from Messiaen's birdsong and Cage's start charts. His music is neither a "personal confession," nor does he want to extirpate the auteur. Instead, as in Aqua Vit, he subjects the babblings of a woodland stream to spectral analysis and transforms it into a fully autonomous score. Schneller, who studied with Tristan Murail among others, strikes a balance with the dynamics inherent in the material itself. His precisely calibrated compositions always sound at once rigorous and open-ended, and they frequently conjure up surprising associations in the listener. A micro-intervallic canon for piano and live electronics can give rise to a sea of pealing bells, a string trio to an apocalyptic scenario, thanks to his consummate command of digital technology. Born in Cologne in 1966, Schneller comes from a generation of composers who take the computer for granted as one resource among many, as is apparent in such sound installations as his polyphonic urban collage “Polis” for Berlin's Martin Gropius Hall. In his most recent works Schneller, who received a composers’ prize from the Ernst von Siemens Music Foundation in 2010, has directed his interest toward himself. “Stratigraphie”, for example, is the archaeological model, but not the findings, of a journey of self-discovery. Here, too, his music makes room for the listener's own experiences and emotions in the secret life of sounds, allowing for magical moments of the sort that occur only to those who refuse to force them.