TCHAIKOVSKY: SYMPHONY NO 6 JA

WILLIAM KAPELL PLAYS CHOPIN: T

Classical Music

An impressive performance, spacious, full-bodied, and last but not least, never forgetful of the warm human feeling prompting Mussorgsky's tribute to a recently and prematurely deceased friend.

After Barry Douglas's recent RCA concerto debut in the Tchaikovsky, now a solo recital—with Pictures at an Exhibition, long a cornerstone of his repertory, the principal work. It's an impressive performance, spacious, full-bodied, and last but not least, never forgetful of the warm human feeling prompting Mussorgsky's tribute to a recently and prematurely deceased friend. In view of Ashkenazy's own orchestration of the work, it is perhaps not surprising that he himself draws a wider range of colour from the keyboard, particularly its upper register glints; his characterization is just a shade more vivid, underpinned by a stronger sense of direction (Decca). But Douglas's tone is warmer—and full marks to the RCA engineers for reproduction so faithful.

Both artists use the Urtext edition, notably giving us an ff start to ''Bydlo''. Here I think douglas's slower tempo is a distinct advantage in evoking the ox-wagon's lumbering motion, just as his marginally brisker tempo for the finale is truer to the composer's allegro alla breve marking. But neither his quarrelling children in the Tuileries garden nor his gossiping market-women at Limoges have as much temperament as Ashkenazy's, nor is his witch as ferocious—or sinister in flight. Both players, in their different ways, rightly make the recurrent promenade episode very personal. But on its first reflective return I questioned Douglas's subdivision of each phrase into two, just as I wondered if the ensuing sad song of the troubador (here very much an unrequited lover at the castle gate) really needs his occasional yieldings of pulse. His exceptionally full, rich fortissimo, free of all edginess or clang, is of course a tremendous asset in the majestic finale—as it also is in the big climaxes of the Dante Sonata. Comparison with Brendel (Philips) in this work revealed Douglas less dramatically menacing, less intense. But in its less urgent way (and, incidentally, he allows himself all the time in the world for the middle section's bittersweet reflection), the reading is warmly romantic and expansive—with some ravishing softer sonority en route. You're certainly left in no doubt as to why Liszt included the word 'fantasia' in the title. If yielding phrasing in the Liebestod sometimes relaxes tension in pianissimo, textural strands are clearly defined and the climax itself is sumptuous.

-- Joan Chissell, Gramophone [5/1987]

It really is a problem, choosing between these two recordings. (Giordano: Andrea Chénier / Pavarotti, Caballé, Chailly) It might seem sensible to start with the tenor in the title-role, and here my strong inclination would be to plump for RCA and Domingo: he is in splendid voice, with a touch of nobility to his manner that makes for a convincing portrayal of a poet. Pavarotti (for Chailly on Decca) begins with a rather leather-lunged Improvviso, but he later finds poetry in the role as well, especially when responding to his soprano, Caballe who is rather stretched by the more exhausting reaches of her role and sounds audibly grateful for the occasional opportunities he gives her to float rather than belt a high-lying phrase. And besides, Pavarotti is an Italian tenor, and his Italianate sense of line adds 1 per cent or so of elegance to some phrases that even Domingo cannot match. Caballe does many things beautifully, and her fine-spun pianissimos and subtle shadings only occasionally sound mannered, but the role is undeniably half-a-size too big for her. So it is for Scotto, you might say, and a hint of strain is audible once or twice, in her timbre rather than her phrasing. It is her phrasing, indeed, that tips the balance back to RCA: Scotto is as subtle a vocalist as Caballe, but she gives meaning and eloquence to every phrase without ever breaking the long line, which one cannot always say of the Spanish soprano. Matters are about even as far as the baritones are concerned: Milnes acts admirably, but refrains from over-acting, and the voice is rich and characterful. Nucci for Chailly is a bit less compelling dramatically, but the voice strikes me as more integrated, more even, than Milnes's, and thus, again, is more Italianate in its line. Decca field a sumptuous supporting cast (Astrid Varnay, worn of voice but full of character as the Countess, Christa Ludwig, no less, in the ten lines of Madelon's part, Tom Krause as a fine Roucher, Giorgio Tadeo an implacable Mathieu), but RCA's striking Bersi, vividly characterized Irtcredibile, and their Roucher, too, are not outmatched (only their Madelon, both fruity and acid—a grapefruit of a voice—is disappointing). A lot of people will enjoy the huge energy and bustle of Levine's direction. It is vividly characterful, but to my taste a shade exhausting and over-assertive. The flow of the music seems more natural in Chailly's hands, and orchestral detail is clearer. The Decca recording, too, is warmer than the RCA, which has a slight edge to it. Even so, for Scotto's sake and to a slightly lesser extent for Domingo's, I think I would choose RCA, but that would mean rejecting Chailly, Pavarotti and the Decca recording … As I say, it is really a problem.

-- Michael Oliver, Gramophone [9/1989]

Mark Elder leads the Halle Orchestra in two beautiful works by Ralph Vaughan Williams. The 8th Symphony was written for, and premiered by, Sir John Barbirolli and the Halle orchestra in 1956 and is noted for an enlarged and colorful percussion section. The music is among the more light hearted and sunny of Vaughan Williams' scores. The lyrical, richly melodious 5th Symphony embraces the world of nature and human emotions one finds in the Tallis Fantasia and Serenade to Music. This concert was recorded live in the Bridgewater Hall, Manchester on 9th November 2011.

Review quote:

"Elder made a splendid job of it, capturing its quizzical nature to a nicety and balancing the orchestral sound with a skill that drew out the subtlest of Vaughan Williams’s instrumental colourings." - Richard Fairman, Financial Times, (Review of Symphony No.8 Royal Albert Hall Proms, July 2008)

This disc received the 1998 Cannes Classical Music Award for "Best 20th-Century Orchestral Recording." It was also nominated for the 1998 Grammy Award for "Best Engineered Album, Classical."

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There is much to savour here: the thrilling sense of spectacle engendered in the brazen Prelude to The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956); the sweep and lustre of the LAPO’s response in the two extended excerpts from Marnie (1964); the aural feast served up by the score rejected by Hitchcock for Torn Curtain (1966, whose characteristically unconventional instrumentation includes 16 horns, 12 flutes, nine trombones and two tubas). In the Suite from Psycho (1960) Salonen draws playing of terrific bite and menace from his Los Angeles string section. Most striking of all is the remarkable concentration this partnership brings to those pivotal slow numbers like “The Madhouse” and “The Swamp” (both of which convey such numbing dread through their indeterminate tonality). Salonen’s finely sculpted realization of the suite for strings, harp and percussion from Herrmann’s score to Francois Truffaut’s Fahrenheit 451 (1966) has a wistfulness (especially in the poignant bars of the concluding “The Road”) that rather scores over Joel McNeely’s recent Varese Sarabande version with the Seattle SO. How good, too, that room was found for Christopher Palmer’s effective synthesis of Herrmann’s very last composition, the magnificently sinister and moody score for Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1975).

“Any grumbles at all?”, I hear you ask. Well, just a couple. In the overture to North by Northwest (1959) Salonen’s chosen tempo strikes me as just a little too hectic to give quite enough lift to those obsessive fandango rhythms, whereas Herrmann’s own soundtrack recording on EMI Premier conveys an altogether greater sense of menace. Salonen also tries to wring too much out of the gorgeous “Scene d’amour” from Vertigo (1958) – McNeely with the RSNO on Varese Sarabande is less self-consciously sticky and infinitely more moving as a result. Otherwise, I have nothing but praise.

A winner of a disc, in sum, resplendently played and engineered, and excellently annotated by Alex Ross. If this generous new Sony collection doesn’t succeed in alerting a whole new audience to the genius of Bernard Herrmann, then nothing will.

-- Gramophone [1/1997]

Mozart: Exsuiltate, jubilate, K. 165 - Alessandro Scarlatti:

YURI BASHMET - BRITTEN, REGER,

Introducing François-Xavier Roth - the charismatic new Principal Conductor of the SWR Sinfonieorchester Baden-Baden and Freiburg in his debut recording as part of the SWRmusic/haenssler CLASSIC collaboration that has produced so many critically acclaimed recordings. This beautiful program features two Late Romantic paeans to nature: Mahler's popular First Symphony and Anton Webern's early, lushly scored tone poem, "Im Sommerwind".

Personnel includes: Doc Severinsen, Snooky Young, Tom Brown, Richard Perry, Bobby Bryant, John Audino (trumpet); Mac Kenley, Robert Alexander, Lloyd Ulyate, Gene Cipriano (trombone); Vincent DeRosa (French horn); Lew Tabackin, Bud Shank, Ernest Watts (woodwinds); Ross Tompkins, Pat Rebillot, Michael Woodford (piano); Dennis Budimir, Peter Woodford, Tommy Tedesco (guitar); John Williams, Meyer Rubin (bass); Fred Stites, Ed Shaughnessy (drums); John Pacheco, Michael Collazo, Larry Bunker (percussion).

Producers: Don Sebesky, Pete Spargo, Dick Hyman, Joe Reisman.

Compilation producer: John Snyder.

Recorded at RCA Studios, New York City and RCA Studios, Hollywood, California on April 29 & 30, 1971; June 2, 1971; June 12, 1972 and August 22, 1973. Includes liner notes by Mort Goode.

Digitally remastered by Joe Lopes (May 7, 1992, BMG Recording Studios, New York, New York).

This compilation contains tracks recorded for RCA from 1971-1973.

Schreker, F.: 5 Gesänge / Ein Tanzpiel / Festwalzer Und Walz

PIERRE MONTEUX EDITION VOL 11

This program of five motets and sixteen chansons is presented as a collection of the composer's six-part works. In fact, besides its acknowledged omission of Praeter rerum seriem, it ignores ten more six-part motets in the Smijers edition, of which The New Grove works-list downgrades four to the doubtful category (the others have more or less claim to authenticity, a big debate among Josquin scholars). On the other hand, only nine of the chansons are six-voice pieces, and one of those is doubtful.

The King's Singers, who have recently moved to their new label, offer music more rarefied than their usual popular collections, demonstrating an affinity with other Oxbridge graduates who currently dominate the English early-music scene. The six male voices are nicely balanced, as usual, and their idiomatic interpretations are quite satisfactory. The five-voiced lament for Ockeghem and the four-voiced Mille regretz are among the more familiar items, while O virgo prudentissima seems to be a first recording. The sound is clear, the notes by David Fallows are useful, and texts come with translation. This is a good addition to the Josquin shelf, hardly too crowded anyway.

-- J. F. Weber, FANFARE [5/1994]

Classical Music

Peter Pears gives the words their full due and sings with sensitive mastery, while Julian Bream plays with unfailing affection. The enthralling music and superb performances makes this out-of-the-way record a joy.

To a very considerable extent this record is a tribute to Julian Bream's playing; had he not been around, the two song cycles and the Britten folk-song arrangements (and for all I know, other items too) would never have been written. And very enjoyable it all is. The two song-cycles are, I think, near each other in quality, but some way apart in effect, for the Britten is obviously written to suit Peter Pears and Julian Bream, whereas the Walton seems at times to be written, as it were, against them. Thus the second song needs to be sung (I apologize for the word) saucily, the fifth with a degree of inebriations, and they are not really within Pears's emotional range. You might think the last one beyond the powers of most singers, so difficult is it, but in fact Pears makes a very good shot at it, and it is surprisingly effective. But Lady, when I behold the roses seems better suited to the performers' style and, a lovely song, it comes off without any sense of strain. The words of these songs ("chosen by Christopher Hassall"—why didn't Walton choose them?) all date from the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries, and their charm is among the cycle's chief attractions.

The Britten Songs from the Chinese date from 1958, two years before the Walton, and they are settings of some of Arthur Waley's exquisite translations. Peter Pears gives the words their full due, and sings with sensitive mastery, while Julian Bream plays the marvellous guitar part with unfailing affection. I'm told that Britten himself did a good deal of guitar practice when writing these songs, and it would be interesting to hear him attempt them. His recent folk-song arrangements are delightful, and at least one of them has a guitar part of formidable difficulty. The Seiber arrangements of French folk-songs are simpler in style, but lovely to hear, and the Fricker setting of 0 Mistress mine, is delightful... [T]he enthralling music and superb performances and splendid quality makes this out-of-the-way record a joy.

-- R.F., Gramophone [7/1965, reviewing the original LP release]

Villa-Lobos seemed to have a bottomless well of simple, predominantly diatonic, yet affecting tunes, to which his harmonic eclecticism lent an exotic air; there is not one on this recording which is not capable of staying in the memory. Robert Bonfiglio is a most accomplished soloist in every respect... a most enjoyable programme...
-- John Duarte, Gramophone [4/1990]

Tashi don their tuxedos and, in the case of violinist Ida Kavafian, a flapper dress. The roaring twenties provide the only common link in this oddball collection; as the sleeve-note suggests during that rollicking decade ''the world was bent on having a good time''. I'll take that on trust. Tashi have a good time here, and so, for the most part, do we. I am never entirely sure about Hindemith, but you don't argue with the craftsmanship. He was 28 and irritatingly eager when he put together this inventive little Quintet. No musical fashion seems to have escaped him—from the obligatory string elegy with its generous coating of late romanticism, to the curdled third movement Landler with its grotesque mix of Berlin cabaret and Mahlerian Wunderhorn (Richard Stoltzman in his element brandishing the E flat clarinet), a touch of premature minimalism in the curiously spare fourth movement, and a finale which begins by sounding as though it is rewinding the score back to the beginning. The Lukas Foss piece is weird, too—not in terms of the musical language, which is disarmingly mainstream, but on account of its gentle off-beat humour. Just when you think you should be taking it seriously … The treadmill finale, for instance, is notable for two thin-lipped piano solos and a spooky disappearing-trick at the end. Stoltzman again gets the lion's share of the virtuosity.

As for the remaining bon-bons Stoltzman and friends are suitably laid-back. Alan Shulman's Rendezvous was written for Benny Goodman and sounds much as its title suggests. A deceptive start, like off-duty Richard Strauss, gives way to swingtime. And swingtime is what we are looking for, and get, in at least three of the five Gershwin morsels. Stoltzman tosses off a deliciously frisky Promenade (or Walking the dog) while the standards are duly adored—the flavour of the arrangements, Palm Court with a twist.

-- Edward Seckerson, Gramophone [3/1990]

HANDEL: CONCERTI GROSSI, VOL 1

REIMANN Melusine • Peter Hirsch, cond; Marlene Mild ( Melusine ); Teresa Erbe ( Pythia ); Gabriele May ( Madame Lapérouse ); Richard Kindley ( Max Oleander ); Song-Hu Liu ( Count Von Lusignan ); Nuremberg P • WERGO WER 6719 2 (2 CDs: 96:47 Text and Translation) Live: Nuremberg 5/12/2007


Aribert Reimann (b. 1936) has pursued a dual career as composer and pianist; he was Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau’s accompanist for 20th-century repertoire. Reimann has written perhaps 50 major works in many forms, most of them including the voice. He is best known for his ambitious operas based on major literary works: The Trojan Women (Euripedes), A Dream Play and The Ghost Sonata (Strindberg), The Castle (Kafka), The House of Bernarda Alba (Lorca), Medea (after Franz Grillparzer), and—talk about ambitious—Shakespeare’s Lear , the latter written for Fischer-Dieskau, who suggested the subject and sang the 1978 premiere, recorded live by Deutsche Grammophon.


The 1971 Melusine , based on a play by Yvon Goll, is the “Pastoral” Symphony of Reimann’s dramas, a breath of fresh air amid all that heavy breathing. It is the classic story of a mermaid who loves a mortal, for which they both must pay with their lives— Rusalka moved to the big city, or at least to a park at the edge of town. Max’s former lover, Madame Lapérouse, has arranged his marriage to Melusine, who remains virginal despite his complaints. She in turn consorts with her magical friends in the woods; the fairy Pythia (her Ježibaba) gives her the fishtail, which “closes her loins but makes her irresistible to men,” some of whom die for her. Finally, she falls for the Count, and you know the rest.


As befits a fairy tale, the elegant music is lighter and easier than the dense, mostly serial expressionism of Lear and The Castle , and the spare, harsh melodrama of Bernarda Alba . But the most fascinating—astonishing—thing about Melusine is the title character’s vocal line, which makes the Queen of the Night sound like a basso profundo. It has easily the highest tessitura I have ever encountered, probably around a’’, with excursions up through the next octave. Even more amazing is the apparent ease with which Marlene Mild handles the range and the coloratura; there is no screeching or squeaking here, and—after the astonishment wears off—her singing comes to seem natural for this mythical, magical creature. Baritone Song-Hu Liu is also marvelous as the Count; they share a long, gorgeous duet in the final act, which is surrounded by two impressive orchestral interludes. The whole cast is eminently satisfactory, as is the orchestra. The opera is a bit slow to get started—scene 1 is a tedious debate between Max and Madame which brings us up to snuff on who’s who and what’s what—but it takes wing with Melusine’s entrance. The live recording is clear and clean, with no audience intrusions. German and English texts appear on facing pages. Unless you can’t abide any music beyond Strauss, this is definitely an opera worth getting to know.


FANFARE: James H. North

Classical Music

While Igor Stravinsky is known for his exciting and ground-breaking words The Rite of Spring and The Firebird, it would be reductive to view him solely through the prism of those works. Threi is his longest, most ambitious and complex score and probably one of the peaks of his career. A work like the Requiem Canticles goes even further in this direction: the composer's last masterpiece, summarizing in itself the evolution of an entire lifetime. In this album, Philippe Herreweghe reveals with conviction his love for the composer's music and under his sure, inspired direction, the Collegium Vocale Gent and the Royal Flemish Philharmonic reveal their pure poetry.

Boult was very closely associated with Elgar's music throughout his career and recorded the Second Symphony five times. This live Proms performance recorded in stereo from 1977 'shows Boult in his late 80s working with the passion and energy of a much younger man' (Martin Cotton). His relatively fast tempi are closer to his first recording made in 1944 with the BBCSO. The Overture and Venusberg music from Wagner's Tannhauser are a new addition to the Boult discography and come from a live studio performance in stereo from the Maida Vale Studios in 1968. These are world premier recordings.

Classical Music

On July 29, 2015 composer Mikis Theodorakis will celebrate his 90th birthday. In honor of this occasion, Soprano Johanna Krumin and baritone Peter Sch�ne offer this collection of thirteen of the composer's songs. Regarded as somewhat of a political hero, Theodorakis has given a face and a voice to the Greek people. This project aims to be a musical homecoming, a return to his beginnings in the form of pure music free from all external constraints.