Anton Bruckner began the revision of his Third Symphony after completing the Fifth on 16 May 1876 and continued working on it sporadically until 28 April 1877. Then, after the Vienna Philharmonic rejected the Symphony for a third time, Bruckner's friend, Hofkapellmeister Johann Herbeck, took matters into his own hands. He arranged to conduct the work himself on the concert series of the Society for the Friends of Music [Gesellschaftskonzerte] on 16 December 1877. After Herbeck passed away unexpectedly, Bruckner was forced to conduct the symphony himself. The performance proved to be one of the worst debacles of his career. The players were rude and unreceptive, and the audience left the concert hall in droves. Despite the public fiasco, Theodor Rattig, one of the few people who stayed, offered to publish the symphony. Two other people who were there at the end, Gustav Mahler and Rudolf Krzyzanowski, prepared a piano four-hand reduction for Rattig's publication which appeared at the end of 1879. It was the first publication of a Bruckner Symphony.

Bruckner’s Second Symphony is a rare enough encounter in its 1877 version, but it’s virtually unperformed in the 1872 original version. This is not owing to some deficiency of the earlier ideas compared to the later alterations. It’s mainly habit and convenience because to get new parts and re-learn something ostensibly known, that differs in a great many details, means an extra expense of effort and resources. That’s a shame, really, because it is decidedly worth discovering the original, not-yet-ironed-out rawness of Bruckner’s early masterpiece, which was something unheard of at the time – but needn’t remain unheard now.

“Since Beethoven, nothing has been written that even comes close!”

The great conductor Arthur Nikisch made this remark to Bruckner’s former student, Joseph Schalk and also his fellow conductor, Hermann Levi, described the piece as “the most significant symphonic work since Beethoven’s death.”

Arthur Nikisch conducted the first performance in the Stadttheater, Leipzig, on 30 December 1884, with Bruckner in the audience. While the performance was not a total triumph, it brought the sixty-year-old composer significant international recognition for the first time. During the composer’s lifetime, the Seventh, especially its Adagio, was his most popular symphony, and it remains among his most beloved and frequently performed works.

Among Bruckner’s Symphonies, the Fifth is his contrapuntal masterpiece; the grandest until the Eighth. The tour-de-force of a finale gives us an idea of what the finale of the Ninth might have been like. Its magnificent dark and halting opening with the descending bass line – so effectively recalled in the finale – is inimitable. Although long available only in a disfigured version by Franz Schalk, it is also distinct for never having been the subject to revision or, perhaps, even doubt on the part of Bruckner – who never heard it performed with an orchestra. And yet, when Bruckner wrote this masterpiece, he was still far from establishing himself as a composer in Vienna and his spirits were as low as ever, writing a friend that “my life has lost all joy and delight – in vain and for nothing.” A radiant pinnacle from amid darkness.

Bruckner’s frantic revisions of his symphonies Nos. 3, 4, and 8 were borne out of his disappointment with Hermann Levi rejecting the original version of the 8th symphony. Helping in this large-scale revamping effort were former Bruckner-students Franz and Joseph Schalk, Ferdinand Löwe, Max von Oberleithner, and Cyrill Hynai, which resulted in these versions’ reputation – and especially that of the last version of the 4th – being varnished as something not quite Echt-Bruckner.

It wasn’t until the discovery of photographs of the 1888 version’s manuscript score and the subsequent publication of Benjamin Korstvedt’s edition thereof that it became clear: This late edition really did reflect Bruckner’s intentions. To ears familiar with the still better-known 1881 version, the result might sound mystifying, even troubling, but it also surprises with many particularly exquisite passages!

This world premiere recording of British composer Nigel Clarke’s symphony for violin and orchestra The Prophecies of Merlin is inspired by the 12th-century text De gestis Britonum by Geoffrey of Monmouth, and it casts the soloist as the maddened Merlin, in a score brimming with rhythmic drive and bravura orchestration. Clarke's music can aso be heard on 8.570429 (Samurai • Black Fire • The Miraculous Violin) and 8.574097 (Mysteries of the Horizon).

If you know the cellist-professor-composer Georg Goltermann (1824-1898) and his eight (!) cello concertos, you’re either a cellist or married to one. In his lifetime and for a while thereafter, the instrumental virtuoso-cum-composer was popular and well-liked enough to have the Cantilena of his Cello Concerto recorded by Pablo Casals – but not much since. That’s a shame because that lyrical-melancholic, never gratuitously virtuosic op.10 is a picture-perfect, delightful romantic cello concert. The symphony, then well received and Goltermann’s pride, too, goes down nicely in a post-Brahms vain rather à la Bruch or Gernsheim, especially the exquisite, lively hunting Scherzo with its sweeping Trio.

REVIEW:

The Symphony, the third of the works in the key of A minor, is receiving its first recording here. It was premiered in Leipzig, and I think that is quite significant, because it owes much to the memory of the recently deceased Felix Mendelssohn, in particular his Scottish Symphony. It was very well-received by public and reviewers. I was amused by a quote in the notes from a newspaper report of the premiere, which stated that even in 1851, critics were bemoaning that the quality of melody was no longer being adequately appreciated by composers (but Goltermann was excused from this criticism).

I’d not heard of Turkish cellist Jamal Aliyev before, but he has performed at the Proms and won a number of prizes at international competitions. It is not hard to see why; he is very good, giving these little-known works his fullest efforts. Under the assured direction of Howard Griffiths, such a champion of the unsung composer, the ORF Vienna orchestra sound superb. My only quibble with the sound quality was the occasional sharp intake of breath from Aliyev (but hey, he’s got to breathe).

This is one of those unsung composer discs that really does “sing”. Goltermann might not have had the most original of compositional voices, but he knew how to write concentrated, melodic pieces, and now we know that even in the mid-19th century, melody was in short supply (what would those critics have thought of the 20th century, I wonder?).

-- MusicWeb International

This recording brings together two of the biggest sacred works written by Mozart and Haydn, the friends and contemporaries caught at opposite ends of their musical lives. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart composed the substantial Mass in C minor (K. 139) for the consecration of the Waisenhaus (Orphanage) Church in the Rennweg when he was just twelve years old. The Mass received its first performance on 7 December 1768. While Mozart was overseeing the consecration of the Waisenhaus, Joseph Haydn was in the third year of his promotion to Kapellmeister at the palace of Esterházy, under Prince Nikolaus I. It was a post to which he returned in 1795, serving under Nikolaus II on a part time basis. This second term saw the composition of six Masses, with the penultimate – nicknamed the ‘Nelson Mass’ – widely regarded as his finest setting.

‘The Miraculous Mandarin’ (Op. 19, Sz. 73) is Bartók's last work for the stage. The plot revolves around prostitution, brutality, robbery, murder, being an outsider, (unrequited) love, and finally, as a catharsis, a kind of love-death. The music is relentlessly sharp for long stretches, garishly dissonant, radical—probably the most modern score Bartók created. The premiere (1926) in Cologne was a scandal, and Konrad Adenauer, then Lord Mayor of Cologne, immediately cancelled the performances.The Violin Concerto No. 2, Sz. 112, was composed between August 1937 and December 31, 1938, shortly before Bartók's emigration to the United States in view of the increasingly oppressive political and social climate in Hungary. Unlike the ‘Mandarin,’ the work quickly established itself after its premiere in Amsterdam in 1939 as one of the central violin concertos of the first half of the 20th century, and at the same time, as one of Bartók's greatest creations.

In the course of his long career, Michael Gielen has been Music Director of the Royal Opera in Stockholm, the Belgian National Orchestra in Brussels, the Dutch Opera, and the Frankfurt Opera. He was also Principal Guest Conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra and the Staatskapelle Berlin, as well as Chief Conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra and the Südwestfunk Symphony Orchestra.

The story of the discovery and resurrection of Britten's Double Concerto for Violin and Viola is one of those rare moments of musicological spice that can capture the interest of even the more casual music lover. Unlike it, the Violin Concerto Op. 15 found itself thrust onto the world stage of music right away, its genesis having been rather straightforward – if hardly smooth.

Winner of the first prize of the Queen Elisabeth Competition (2001) Baiba Skride displays a natural approach to music-making that has endeared her to many of today’s most prestigious conductors and orchestras worldwide. She performs the Double Concerto with violist Ivan Vukcevic, who has appeared in some of the most important venues and festivals in Europe. They are accompanied by the ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Marin Alsop, whose performances won her many Gramophone Awards.

Finnish opera star Camilla Nylund sings masterpieces from the Great American Songbook in this unique collaboration with the ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra under their music director Marin Alsop. The classic songs in this film were specially arranged to suit Nylund's performance style, vocals and personality, as if they had been written for her. This special edition includes a Blu-ray of the concert film-project by Andr� Heller in black and white, plus an audio only recording.

Finally: Beethoven's Piano Concertos 0 to 7 as interpreted by Michael Korstick are available on 4 albums, and once again he sets new interpretational standards. In the meantime, volumes have been filled with attempts to approach the question of an adequate interpretation of Beethoven's works, and with the indispensable elements of grandeur, drama and inwardness, the study of these works remains timelessly topical and will continue to open up new perspectives in the future. This complete recording of all the piano concertos arranges the six works that Beethoven gave an opus number in the appropriate order, leaving all the other pieces to follow on the fourth release. This project would not have been possible without the generous support of Dr. Ernst Denert. For his patronage, Michael Korstick was able to fulfil a long-cherished dream.