Besides her Cherubino in Mozart's Marriage of Figaro, Frederica von Stade also enjoyed repeated successes in Salzburg with her song recitals. In 1986, accompanied by Martin Katz, she offered a programme that knew no boundaries, ranging from the florid poesy of settings by Fauré and Strauss to Mahler's Songs of a Wayfarer, the moderate American Modernism of Charles Ives, Copland and Pasatieri, then to Canteloube's French folk song adaptations. Schoenberg's early cabaret songs served to round off the evening in ebullient fashion.

There are arguments to be made in favor of both versions of Don Carlo, in four or five acts (never mind French or Italian), although either way it remains a very long opera. Karajan’s EMI recording of the four-act edition, with a very similar cast to this one, remains one of his greatest Verdi outings. However, this new release of a live performance from the Vienna State Opera in 1979 displaces all other recordings of the four-act version, including Karajan’s earlier one. It is very well and naturally recorded, although the overall perspectives are somewhat low-level. Turn up the volume, however, and the performance snaps nicely into focus. The audience behaves well, with the not-distractingly-audible evidence of its presence adding to the sense of occasion.

Better still, many of the exaggerations and eccentricities on that 1978 studio performance–very loud passages followed by almost inaudible ones, odd ritards, etc.–are gone from this reading, but the nobility remains. It’s still on the slow side (Eboli’s “O don fatale” is amazingly slow, but brilliantly performed, with true grief, by Agnes Baltsa (sound clip) who handles every long breath and every high note as if the aria were easy) and there’s still the occasional weird cut (part of Elisabetta’s farewell to her Countess friend, the second verse of the Veil song). However, the Philip and Grand Inquisitor–Ruggero Raimondi and Matti Salminen–are breathtaking here. Freni is just as good; Baltsa is better, and Carreras is still the Don Carlo to hear in the 1970s–a just-about-perfect performance. Piero Cappuccilli’s Posa is warmer than before but just as full voiced. This is a must have, even if the libretto is not included.

-- Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

Andris Nelsons has been familiar with the Russian and, more especially, the Soviet musical tradition practically since he began his training as a conductor. After all, he studied in St. Petersburg with Alexander Titov and also with Mariss Jansons. His journey to Shostakovich and the Russian composer’s Seventh Symphony, which he recently conducted to great acclaim at the BBC Proms with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, is one that makes perfect sense in this context. Shostakovich’s symphonies continue to be at the mercy of commentators eager to find historical and political encoding in them, and yet a work like the Seventh Symphony in C major (“Leningrad”) has a universality for which the term “war symphony” is wholly inadequate.

The almost idyllic opening of the first movement and the disruption of that mood by the sudden irruption of a series of timpani rolls, together with the themes associated with a military attack, remain etched in the memory in spite of the final frenzy bound up with the idea of victory, and the same is true of the emotional highs and lows of the middle movements, in which listeners are torn between subdued trust and chorale-like solemnity in the tradition of some of Shostakovich’s great Russian predecessors, especially Modest Mussorgsky, enabling him to lend his voice to the tormented soul of a nation above and beyond all ideological divisions. It was no doubt passages like these that led to the rapid worldwide dissemination of the work once the microfilmed score had reached the United States after an adventurous journey via the Middle East.

A new chapter in this exciting performance history of the symphony has now been written by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra under its music director Andris Nelsons with a thrilling reading notable for its musical focus and depth and, not least, for its contrasts between rhythmic power and lyrical tenderness. The monumentality of Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony emerges to particularly moving effect in a performance in which garish primary colours are banished in favour of balance. - Orfeo

Since their 2008 debut, the Curtis Institute-trained Naughton twins have been showcasing their piano-duo wares in concert and now on their first CD produced by Radio Bremen and released on Orfeo. They bring out all of the Mendelssohn Allegro brilliant’s requisite bravura without pushing the music into overdrive as they execute the rapid runs and broken passages between hands with fluidity and ease. The Brahms Haydn Variations stands out for well-unified tempos, a lovely, disembodied quality to the minor-key variation, and the cogent projection of Variation 5’s cross-rhythmic phrases, although other variations prove not as well characterized (No. 2 is underplayed and slightly metronomic, for example).

If anything, the Mozart sonata reveals more supple passagework and playful repartée between the pianists, although I do miss the first-movement exposition repeat and the elegant simplicity that distinguishes Perahia/Lupu’s Molto allegro. Unlike the imposing James Levine/Evgeny Kissin Schubert Lebensstüme from Carnegie Hall, the Naughtons wisely pare down the repeats and achieve a more intimately scaled balance by playing the work on one piano as intended. They bring lots of color and inner lilt to Falla’s delightful Danza española No. 1, despite a tempo that is arguably too fast.

In an era where more and more pianists joyride through Ravel’s La valse, one welcomes the Naughton twins’ careful scaling of climaxes and disciplined articulation of glissandos and big unison chords. Much as I enjoy the live Argerich/Kovacevich Lutoslawski Paganini Variations for its joyful spontaneity, studio conditions allow the Naughtons to further polish this little gem to uncover even more sparkle in the opening variations and final pages. In all, a very fine release, and the beautifully balanced, judiciously resonant sonics are of audiophile quality.

-- Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

Classical Music

MENDELSSOHN String Symphonies • Michael Hofstetter, cond; Stuttgart CO • ORFEO C 763093 D (3 CDs: 221:27)


The well-publicized childhood musical genius of Mozart and Schubert was surpassed by that of Mendelssohn, as witnessed by the 13 string symphonies he completed by age 15. The third of these string symphonies already shows mastery, by this mere child, of the art of contrapuntal writing. This and other signs of precocious musical genius increased as the composer matured through each of the succeeding 10 string symphonies. The first six are imitative of Schubert and Beethoven, but in the Seventh String Symphony in D Minor, Mendelssohn begins to express his individuality. From the Ninth on, Mendelssohn moves forward at a galloping pace, with glorious fugal movements and fugal passages proliferating. The 11th String Symphony, in F Major/F Minor, is my favorite. Mendelssohn augments the second movement, marked Commodo (Schweizerlied) , with percussion at its conclusion. The 13th String Symphony is incomplete, consisting of only a single movement that shows further mastery of contrapuntal writing.


Michael Hofstetter, the principal conductor of the renowned Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra and follower of a line of succession that started with the orchestra’s founder, Karl Münchinger, gives us a commendable set of these early Mendelssohn masterpieces. But the playing is relatively subdued and the conducting is characterized by too weak a beat for my taste. Other listeners may prefer this approach, which uses a small chamber orchestra, to my favored version by Kurt Masur and the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra with its fuller string complement. In terms of the era, Hofstetter’s approach is Baroque in character—small ensemble with restrained vibrato—whereas Masur’s is contemporary and closer to late 19th century. The latter seems to me to be more in line with what Mendelssohn meant to convey, closer to Beethoven than to Bach, but who really knows? In the first movement of the 11th Symphony, Hofstetter fails to take the very important exposition repeat, whereas Masur wisely observes it. This is the only textual difference that I found.


This disc is a very good Baroque-style alternative to Masur’s exceptionally fine modern performances. On that basis, it is recommended.


FANFARE: Burton Rothleder

Classical Music

KOZELUCH Clarinet Concertos: No. 1 in Eb; No. 2 in Eb. Sonata concertante in Eb • Dieter Klöcker (cl); Milan Lajík, cond; Prague CO • ORFEO 193 061 (69:21)


With Jan Antonin Koželuh (1747–1818), we find that—like many Bohemian subjects of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, including Jan Waczlaw Stamic (Johann Stamitz) and Anton Rössler (Antonio Rosetti)—the spelling of his name was altered and usually was written as Leopold Kozeluch, although there are instances where it is seen partially in Latin, i.e., Iohannes Antonius Kotzeluch. Kozeluch—to adopt the form generally used in the musical world today—was one of many Bohemians whose desire for fame and fortune took them to Europe’s great musical centers, including Mannheim, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Paris, and London. There is an 18th-century map showing lines radiating from Bohemia to these and other cities and the lines are so numerous that they resemble a spider’s web. It was Bohemia’s national musical fecundity that prompted Dr. Charles Burney, the well-known 18th-century traveler and writer on music, to refer to Bohemia as the conservatory of Europe.


Among the little country’s musical progeny was Kozeluch, termed in The New Grove’ s Dictionary of Music and Musicians “one of the foremost representatives of Czech [Bohemian, to be politically correct] music in 18th-century Vienna.” It appears that Kozeluch was a declared adversary and critic of Mozart, as contemporary accounts indicate that Kozeluch—with the help of Antonio Salieri—tried to establish himself as Mozart’s rival. Nine years after Mozart’s death, Friedrich Rochlitz noted in the Allemeine Musikalisches Zeitung , “Kozeluch expressed his mind too volubly,” and further on we read, “envy and obsessive criticism are not the way to surpass a great man.”


First and foremost, Kozeluch was a secular composer. His musical legacy extends to some 420 separate works, including arrangements of his and other composers’ works. The bottom line though, is a catalog of some 250 original compositions, including 11 symphonies, 22 keyboard concertos, and two for the clarinet, the last not listed in TNG.


There are four concerted works for clarinet that bear Kozeluch’s signature, but the Czech clarinetist Jirí Kratochvil maintains that one was written by Leopold’s cousin, Antonin, so it has been eliminated from this recording. Of the three works on this Orfeo release, the Sonata concertante in Eb is almost one-of-a-kind, joining a similar work by one Franz Bühler (1760–1823). The first concerto is indebted to the Mannheim School, while the second, written for the German virtuoso Josef Beer, is (according to Dieter Klöcker’s copious and erudite annotations) based upon the popular Clarinet Concerto No. 3 in Bb by Kozeluch’s countryman, Carl Stamitz, but the Kozeluch concertos are far superior to anything Stamitz wrote for the instrument and along with the concertos of Franz Krommer, run a close second to Mozart’s lone clarinet concerto.


Dieter Klöcker’s musical instincts are unfailing; he has continuously and consistently brought forth a great deal of lovely and neglected—not negligible—music for his chosen instrument and each new release is a musical epiphany. Much of the repertoire he has chosen, including music of Soleré, Bärmann, and Schacht, still exists in only his recordings and where other works have seen additional recordings since Klöcker’s premieres, his remain benchmark.


The first concerto of Kozeluch is included with works by Krommer and Crusell on a well-played ASV CD of 18th- and early 19th-century concertos played by Emma Johnson (ASV 763). A search of the Sanctuary Classics Web site reveals that the 1997 disc is still available, so if one is in search of a broader picture of the late-Classical and early-Romantic clarinet concerto repertoire, then this would be the way to go. But the decision of Orfeo and Klöcker to issue an entire disc of Kozeluch is wholly in keeping with the way they go about things and should not be overlooked by those with the slightest curiosity. I should also point out that Klöcker plays a clarinet fitted with the Oehler fingering system (standard, I believe, in the German-speaking countries) and a wooden mouthpiece with the reed held in place in the old-fashioned manner by string, the combination of these most surely accounting for his unusual tone quality.


Both recordings are lively, well played, and equally well recorded, with Klöcker’s Orfeo offering a more distant perspective and therefore a hint of concert hall realism. Violinist Milan Lajcík and his colleagues in the Prague Chamber Orchestra are more than up to the tasks offered by these works. The orchestral support is beyond reproach, with unforced directness, poise, and verve that is totally void of metrical stiffness. Another star in the crowns of both Orfeo and Dieter Klöcker.


FANFARE: Michael Carter

Classical Music

This thrilling live performance, taped on September 23, 1960 in excellent stereo sound at the Vienna State Opera, owes most of its success to conductor Dimitri Mitropoulos. This somewhat ramshackle opera can all too often seem like a series of unconnected scenes, but somehow Mitropoulos manages to create a dramatically appropriate arc and keep the action flowing. The orchestra, of course, plays gorgeously for him, with lush string tone and bright brass, and the ensemble work implies many rehearsals. In addition, he gets the most from the Italians in the cast.

Giuseppe di Stefano's voice is at its most free and beautiful and Mitropoulos keeps his bad habits under control, eliciting from him one of his finest performances on disc. He offers a true pianissimo A-flat on "seno" in his big aria, sensitive phrasing throughout, and ardor that is unmatchable, without bluster or exaggeration. Antonietta Stella also is at her best. As good as she always was, you'd find yourself wishing Callas, Gencer, or Tebaldi had been in her stead, but she's memorable here. Despite a few top notes that spread, her singing is first rate, with a hushed duet with Guardiano and excitement elsewhere. But truth to tell, I wish she were someone else.

Ettore Bastianini, with a baritone voice as gorgeous as di Stefano's tenor, is ravishing once past the Inn Scene, which he sleeps through. His duets with the tenor are riveting and his legato is ravishing (it's a pity that their second duet, "Sleale", is cut). "Urna fatale" brings down the house. The feared Preziosilla/military scenes are enlivened and made tolerable by the wonderful Giulietta Simionato and Mitropoulos' lively beat.

The non-Italians are more problematic: the Guardiano of Walter Kreppel is not interesting and he wanders from pitch; Ludwig Welter's Marchese is killed just in time; Karl Dönch's Melitone is bland. But the performance is dramatically ravishing, and by the time the final trio comes around, we are in the presence of absolute greatness; I've never heard it so beautifully sung, played, and led. Highly recommended.

--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

The musical life of our times is happily blessed with an abundance of young new string quartets. That makes it all the more instructive to go back to an older quartet always hailed as a pioneer of the highest modern standards and go beyond its studio recordings to the quartet’s heyday and the “acid test” of a concert (1965). And that conforms to the maxim of the Juilliard String Quartet that new music should sound classical and old music should sound like new, not only with Dvorák and Mozart but even with Bartók.

Includes work(s) by Johann Rudolf Zumsteeg. Soloists: Bernd Weikl, Wolfgang Sawallisch.

Vienna’s top trio of Verdians makes this Ballo one for keeps.

Initially composed for the 1857-58 Carnival Season at the Teatro San Carlo in Naples, this opera about the murderer of Swedish King Gustav III was rejected by Neapolitan censors, and so were its revisions. The premiere performance of Un ballo in maschera took place only on 17 Feb 1859 at the Teatro Apollo in Rome – and also only after revisions enforced by the pontifical censors: first and foremost, the setting was transferred from Sweden to colonial North America, and not a king, but Riccardo, the governor of Boston, was to be the murder victim. Despite these changes, the melodrama was very well received by the audience, and up until today Un ballo in maschera is one of Verdi’s most popular stage works. Like most modern performances, this recording is based on the Swedish version of the opera. Its first performance at the Vienna Opera House on the Ring was given in 1870 (exactly one year after the opening), and has since enjoyed well over 500 performances in this house. The star-studded cast includes Pjotr Beczala as Gustav III, Dmitry Hvorostovky as Renato and Krassimira Stoyanova as Emilia, Nadja Krasteva, Hila Fahima, Alexandru Moisiuc, Sorin Coliban, Igor Onishchenko and Thomas Ebenstein, peforming under the baton of Jesús López Cobos. Live recording April 2016.

REVIEWS:

Orfeo’s live recording hails from 2016 at the Vienna Staatsoper and like most on disc it is based on the Swedish rather than the curious American version of the opera forced on Verdi by political censors.

Piotr Beczała is probably the finest Gustavo III of his generation, singing with just the right degree of swagger, a winning touch of irony, and plenty of romantic passion when called for. His tone is bright and Italianate, just a little pushed when required to pop out a passing top note but rock solid when given plenty of time to get up there. Krassimira Stoyanova is the Emilia, her robust yet creamy soprano is ideal, especially from meaty middle register to gleaming top. Teeming with passion, she’s deeply involved from start to finish and the long central duet with Beczała is perfectly balanced. Her desperate Act III plea to see her child is heart-breaking.

The set’s eye-catching name will likely be Dmitry Hvorostovky as Renato. The popular Russian baritone retired from the stage at the end of 2016 due to physical difficulties arising from the brain tumor that would lead to his tragically early death the following year. Here he’s on excellent form, just occasionally effortful, but singing with consummate style and firmness of tone.

The supporting cast are all splendid with Nadja Krasteva a commanding, sometimes terrifying Ulrica, and Hila Fahima’s light lyric soprano appealing as Oscar. As Horn and Warting, Alexandru Moisiuc and Sorin Coliban make a suitably gruff pair of guffawing villains.

Leading the Staatsoper Orchestra is the then 76-year-old Jesús López Cobos, a conductor with this music in his DNA. His reading is flexible with plenty of heft and you sense a rapport with the singers on stage. The tightly disciplined chorus is well caught.

The orchestral sound on disc is a just a little recessive, and there’s the odd bit of stage noise or cough, but nothing too excessive.

This is a recording that grabs the attention thanks to the dramatic involvement of all involved and one worthy to be added to that distinguished roster of the past.

Rafael Kubelik recorded Bartók's Concerto for Orchestra twice commercially, and two live recordings (including this one) also grace the current catalog. His finest version, indeed one of the select reference editions of the work, remains his Boston Symphony performance for DG, but his live effort differs from that one sufficiently to warrant further investigation. Kubelik's studio recordings often differ substantially from his concert versions. Here, he plays the three inner movements as one, at virtually a single tempo, sacrificing some of the darkness and intensity of the slow movement but compensating with a tremendously exciting attack on the finale. The Bavarian players follow him every step of the way, not quite as polished individually or as an ensemble as their Boston counterparts, but enormously committed all the same. The 1978 recording sounds just a touch too distantly miked for ideal textural clarity, but it's otherwise warm and full.

Kubelik's mono Mercury Living Presence recording of the Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta still stands among the best recordings of that work, but this newcomer improves on it. True, there are moments of unsteady ensemble (as at the start of the second movement), but these matter not a whit in a performance that conveys the music's passion, terror, and ultimate triumph in a manner that few others can claim. In particular, after a spellbindingly lugubrious opening fugue and an aptly ferocious second movement, Kubelik turns in what is arguably the finest performance of the hallucinatory third movement yet to appear on disc. His tempo is daringly swift (6:46--almost exactly Bartók's own extremely fast timing as noted in the score), and every detail--the click of the xylophone, the glissandos in timpani and violins, the soft tremolos of the lower strings--registers with extraordinary clarity and impact. The central climax will simply scare the living daylights out of you. After this night of horror, the genial and propulsive account of the finale offers exactly the necessary relief. Excellent recorded sound sets the seal on a positively cathartic event that alone justifies purchase of the disc.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com