Franz Xaver Gebel’s biographer Ernst Stöckl reported that while there were at least three Gebel string quartets, he was familiar with but one, the published Quartet in D major. Despite persistent research in Russian libraries, he was unable to find the others mentioned in contemporary discussions about concerts. Recently however, the sheet music for the Quartet in E-flat major, printed in Moscow around 1840, where Gebel spent the remainder of his life after 1817, was found in a German library. The Hoffmeister Quartet performs these rarely heard, little-known early-Romantic gems.

There is a certain tradition of large-scale string chamber music in Russia. However, the diverse cultural history of Russia and Eastern Europe has concealed numerous forgotten and little known treasures, which got buried away in times of competing nationalisms and later of ideological cultural doctrines. The two works on this album, both originating in Russia, had been forgotten by musical history but can now be heard again. Franz Xaver Gebel (1787-1843) wrote his Double Quintet during the last years of his life in Moscow. The String Octet by Carl Schuberth (1811-1863) was written some time later, in the 1840s in St Petersburg, where Schuberth was active as a cello virtuoso and conductor. The works on this album are receiving here their world premiere recordings from the Hoffmeister Quartet and soloists of the Wroclaw Baroque Orchestra.

Furtwängler completed his extensive First Violin Sonata in D minor in 1935, but the initial sketches reach back almost twenty years. The work was premiered in the Gewandhaus in Leipzig on March 4, 1937. The violinist was Hugo Kolberg, then leader of the Berlin Philharmonic, and Furtwängler himself was at the piano. A review of that evening's performance included the comment: "Passionately powerful obsession with music and supreme artistic determination are in constant interaction, giving the sonata stylistic complexity, behind which is concealed nothing more or less than an unceasing struggle for the highest spiritual truth."

An uncommon pairing. Well worth hearing. A fascinating release.

Sophie Moser and Katja Huhn have chosen an absorbing programme of two contrasting violin sonatas. Firstly there’s a rarely-heard score byf Wilhelm Furtwängler: his difficult and serious Second Sonata. The coupling is Beethoven’s optimistic Sonata No. 8 in G major, much better known but often overshadowed by the composer’s more famous Spring and Kreutzer sonatas.
 
The first thing that I noticed was the attractive presentation. Full of interesting information the booklet includes fascinating reproductions of a 1940 recital programme of Furtwängler’s D major Sonata with descriptions in German.
 
It may come as a surprise to some readers that in addition to the demands of a heavy conducting schedule Furtwängler found time to compose. Furtwängler was fifty-two when he completed his Violin Sonata No.2 in 1939. Cast in three movements it is a long work lasting over forty minutes. At times it reminded me of the chamber music of Reger and Hindemith. I found the sound quality excellent being especially clear and well balanced.
 
Marked Allegro moderato the opening movement has a sunny disposition with a tinge of mystery. Soon developing into a fierce storm the forceful music surges over the listener like a torrent. Much of Moser’s violin part is for its highest register. Thankfully Huhn’s piano is never allowed to dominate. An uneasy calm pervades the Lento. Although the piano textures are heavy the lyricism is predominantly passionate. There are passages of greater weight and angst but this soon diminishes. A curious short passage for pizzicato at 8:53-9:08 is impassive and characterless. Moser and Huhn drive the pace of the Finale: Presto like a gale-force wind. Here Furtwängler’s writing encompasses dramatic emotional contrasts with extremely wide dynamics. Short passages of relative calm provide only a brief respite from the near frenetic writing. Rather abruptly the score ends with a sudden outburst of energy.
 
Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 8, sometimes known as the ‘ little G major’, is the last in a set of three sonatas. Published as op. 30 in Vienna in 1803 the set bears a dedication to the monarch Tsar Alexander I of Russia. With regard to the sound quality I found Huhn’s piano placed too far forward in the balance which creates an unappealing bright metallic resonance when played with force. 

The playing here is assured with plenty of zest in the uplifting and joyous opening Allegro assai. Contrasting starkly with the outer movements the central movement is more relaxed and features light Viennese rhythms. A temperament of childlike simplicity makes few demands on the listener. Briskly taken by Moser and Huhn the lyrical Finale: Allegro vivace just bounces along with playing that feels fresh and buoyant. 

The Beethoven and Furtwängler violin sonatas are an uncommon paring on disc. Furtwängler’s D major score is well worth hearing and makes this a fascinating release.
 
-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International

In the center of Europe, the birthplace of classical music, Kronberg Academy brings the top young violinists, violists and cellists from all continents together with the leading musicians of our day. In doing so, it gives pride of place to the unparalleled power of inspiration, through which living musical values are passed from one generation to the next. If the institution has gained an international reputation in the field of education over the past two decades, it is not only because of its motivational projects but also as a result of the exclusive study programme, Kronberg Academy Masters. What Kronberg today offers young violinists, violists and cellists was once reserved for cellists only. The first Cello Festival in 1993 was how it all began. Cello masterclasses and competitions paved the way for Kronberg Academy’s development as an educational institution and young cellists were the first Kronberg Academy Masters graduates. Inspired by Gidon Kremer and musically developed and directed by conductor/ cellist Heinrich Schiff, the album’s programme is once again devoted entirely to the cello and its sonorous, melodious sound – brought to life by four young cellists from Spain, Germany, Russia and France, who have all studied at Kronberg Academy or are all currently studying there.

The songs recorded on this album by the “late” Erna Berger and the “early” Hermann Prey will certainly give anyone interested in performance history, or music in general, a valuable audio account with a carefully restored sound quality. These historical recordings were made between 1952 – 1959. Erna Berger, Germany's most well-known coloratura soprano of the last few decades, indeed proved to have extraordinary musical talent even at a very early age. She went on to sing over 30 different roles at the Berlin State Opera House, including the Queen of the Night, Sophie in Der Rosenkavalier, and Zerbinetta in Ariadne auf Naxos, and her fame spread abroad. The following years brought her guest appearances all over the world. After World War II, she started out on her international career. The German bass-baritone, Hermann Prey, grew up during the regime of the the National Socialist Party. He was scheduled to be drafted at the age of 15 when the end of the Second World War brought peace and a chance for him to study voice with Gunther Baum and Jaro Prohaska at the Hochschule fur Musik in Berlin. In 1952 he won a contest of Hessischer Rundfunk Frankfurt. Hermann Prey's voice was a lyric baritone with great warmth and he had complete control of all dynamic variations. He was able to convey a sense of the comic elements of a song without losing the musical sense of the entire piece. Hermann Prey will always be remembered for the fine musicianship and the beauty of his voice.

WAGNER Die Walküre: Act I (complete); 3,4,5 Wotan’s Farewell/Magic Fire Music. 2 Tannhäuser: Dich, teure Halle. 6 Allmächt’ge Jungfrau. 6 Der fliegende Holländer: Durch Sturm und bösen Wind; 1,2,4 Act II duet fragment. 1,2 Die Meistersinger: Fliedermonolog. 2 Siegfried: Act I fragment. 2 Götterdämmerung: Act I fragment 2,3 • Karl Elmendorff, cond; Kurt Striegler, cond; 1 Josef Herrmann, (bar); 2 Max Lorenz (ten); 3 Kurt Böhme (bs); 4 Margarete Teschemacher (sop); 5 Marianne Schech (sop); 6 Dresden Staatskapelle • PROFIL 7048, mono (2 CDs: 118:25)


This set is billed as “Edition Staatskapelle Dresden, Vol. 23.” Volumes 1 and 22 are advertised in the booklet, but I have no idea what is on the other volumes in this series. In any event, the Die Walküre and Tannhäuser selections were made in the Semper Opera House in Dresden on September 21, 1944; the rest of the recordings come from unnamed dates in December 1944, and were made at the Reich radio studio in the auditorium of the Dresden Hygeine Museum after the opera house had been closed due to fire hazards. There was no audience present at any of the sessions and the Die Walküre and Tannhäuser excerpts are probably the last existing recordings to capture the sound of the old (before it was destroyed) Semper Opera House.


It has been noted in Fanfare and elsewhere that, since Germany led the world in the use of magnetic tape, many recordings that were made, even at the height of World War II, have what was, at the time, state-of-the-art sound and no side breaks. There were even experimental two-channel recordings. Unfortunately, as the second of the two CDs in this set suggests, much of what was recorded has disappeared and probably been destroyed. The portion of the Flying Dutchman duet (so short that Senta never gets to sing) and the blood brotherhood oath from Götterdämmerung are taken from noisy 78-rpm discs. The annotations point out that it is highly unlikely that Max Lorenz, who wasn’t even a member of the Dresden company, would have been brought in just to record an excerpt that runs less than three minutes, so there must be more music that has simply vanished in the chaos and destruction of the war. The fragment from Siegfried consists of Josef Herrmann (The Wanderer) answering Mime’s last riddle and warning him that he has forfeited his head. Josef Herrmann is also heard to good effect in Sachs’s act-II monologue from Die Meistersinger , to very good effect in the duet with Daland from The Flying Dutchman , and to even better effect in Wotan’s Farewell and the Magic Fire Music. Here and elsewhere, Karl Elmendorff’s weighty, measured way with the music sometimes pays dividends, since Herrmann, a sturdy, strong singer, but hardly the possessor of a ravishing voice, takes full advantage of the space made available to him, even singing to the microphone in the more contemplative sections of the scene—it’s almost as if he’s pouring out his heart to us, not the empty Semper theater. Okay, the Magic Fire Music plods a bit but, on the whole, this is a wonderful performance of the scene. I suspect that Marianne Schech, at least after the war, became the singer you hired if you couldn’t get Grümmer, Teschemacher, or Schwarzkopf. First of all, she possesses what (at least to me) is a plain voice. She can put across something like “Dich, teure Halle” by wholeheartedly throwing herself into it, but she’s far less successful in dealing with the slow-moving (especially at Elmendorff’s tempo) Elisabeth’s Prayer because, although she’s obviously a very competent singer, her vocal color doesn’t suggest religious rapture or, indeed rapture of any kind—it’s just there.


There are several very fine recordings of the first act of Die Walküre . Although I have my reservations about this one, it has a lot going for it. Certainly Kurt Böhme’s deep, booming voice gives Hunding the proper air of menace and malice—he was only 36 years old at the time and Margarete Teschemacher seems very comfortable as Sieglinde, suggesting the character’s curiosity, which eventually develops into passion. I will confess that I have never been a fan of Max Lorenz, a Wagner stalwart of the 1930s and 1940s. In the 1930s, a lot of his singing seemed to have a metallic edge to it. Here, the metal is replaced by a pushy, effortful sound that suggests he’s working hard. (In fairness, there was a war going on and who knows what kind of a life he was leading?) Yes, I know we could use him today, but in his time, which included such Wagner tenors as Melchior, Svanholm, Ralf, and Völker, he was a second-magnitude star. Yet, Lorenz does all the “right” things here—he was obviously a well-routined Siegmund, and he certainly doesn’t ruin the performance. Let me digress and say that, a few months ago, I heard a good bit of a 1951 act I from Radio Suisse Romande, conducted by Robert Denzler. The Siegmund, Torsten Ralf, is, almost certainly, the greatest I will ever hear—better than Melchior, Svanholm, Völker, Vickers, Max Lorenz, or anyone else you are likely to think of. He sounds like Wagner wrote it just for him. Maybe he was always that good or maybe it was just “one of those days.”


Some of the louder passages come with a fuzz of distortion and, as I mentioned, a few selections are taken from hissy 78-rpms. The playing of the orchestra, while it often has an agreeable mass, is sometimes untidy, and some valuable detail is smudged by the sonority. I would say that these recordings are valuable for what they represent rather than what they actually are. There are no texts, but the German/English booklet has thorough annotations, short biographies of the singers (including Hans Hopf, who isn’t on the collection), and many illustrations—a model for a project of this sort.


FANFARE: James Miller

The way Richard Strauss spoke of his “beloved Dresdeners” rang of Bavarian humor blended with a subtle touch of mischievous irony and, first and foremost, a good dose of respect and appreciation. Home to the Königliche musikalische Kapelle (“Royal Musical Ensemble”) and the Court Opera, Dresden soon became a center of Strauss’s music; many of his works were given their premiere there. Ernst von Schuch, Strauss’s “most loyal conductor of choice”, was a key figure: at the symphony concerts given by the Kapelle, the Dresden General Music Director soon acquainted audiences with all of Strauss’s tone poems, from Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche through Also sprach Zarathustra to Sinfonia domestica. Strauss enthused that, years later, it was “the brilliant Schuch’s untiring magic wand” that eventually opened the series of “exemplary premieres” of his operas in Dresden. Works including Salome, Elektra and Der Rosenkavalier made Strauss the leading musical dramatist of his time. He had no fewer than nine operas premiered in Dresden, his “Eldorado for premieres”, and dedicated the Alpine Symphony to the Dresden Kapelle as a token of his gratitude. The present release is the 44th volume in the Staatskapelle Dresden’s exploration of Strauss’s work, and includes, most notably, his Konzert fur Horn und Orchester op. 11.

Throughout his entire life, Bruckner longed to return to the tranquility of the hilly woodland idyll that was his home in Upper Austria. That impression is perhaps most clearly expressed in his “Romantic” Symphony with its horn calls and the Landler-like dance tunes (in the clarinet) which recalled dance melodies of his childhood. Bruckner explained personally that this was the inspiration for the music for the “meal during the lunch break of the hunt”- and the chirruping of a bird “Zi-zi-bee” all of which combines to make the work a sensitive declaration of love for his childhood in that rural landscape near his birthplace of Ansfelden and the nearby Augustinian monastery of St. Florian. Founded by Prince Elector Moritz von Sachsen in 1548, the Staatskapelle Dresden is one of the oldest orchestras in the world and steeped in tradition. Over its long history many distinguished conductors and internationally celebrated instrumentalists have left their mark on this one time court orchestra. Previous directors include Heinrich Schutz, Johann Adolf Hasse, Carl Maria von Weber, and Richard Wagner, who called the ensemble his “miraculous harp.” Principal conductor since the 2012/2013 season has been Christian Thielemann.

Rusalki, the water-nymphs, have made many operatic appearances. The most famous of them all sings the title role in Dvorák’s Rusalka, but the Russian composer Alexander Dargomyzhsky (1813-69) got there first with his version drawn from Pushkin’s dramatic poem.

Premiered at the Mariinsky Theatre in 1856, it is a lyrical work with roots in bel canto transmitted via Glinka, though there are places where Dargomyzhsky experiments with the radical realist aesthetic he was later to develop in The Stone Guest, in which his vocal writing attempts to mimic speech.

It also echoes German Romantic music – there are French influences too – through the use of melodrama, when Rusalochka (daughter of Rusalka and the Prince) speaks over the music. Recorded in Cologne with a cast steeped in the Russian idiom, this is a very welcome recording (even if the booklet includes a synopsis rather than libretto).

Evelina Dobraceva, who represented Russia at the 2007 Cardiff Singer of the World competition, sings the title with rich-toned flexibility, and Vsevolod Grivnov sings the high-lying part of her Prince with great fluency.

There are solid performances from Arutjun Kotchinian (Miller) and Marina Prudenskaya (Princess), and the score sounds compelling under the excellent baton of Michail Jurowski. Keeping it in the family, Martha Jurowski – his grand-daugther, and daughter of the conductor Vladimir Jurowski – speaks the lines of the little girl Rusalochka with charm.

-- John Allison, BBC Music Magazine

In comic operas there are stock figures. One of these is the bass, often conceited and self-important, silly or evil – or both – who often ends up being ridiculed, humiliated and has to humble himself. We first meet him in Uberto in Pergolesi’s La serva padrona, then in Il barbiere di Siviglia – Paisiello’s as well as Rossini’s – as Doctor Bartolo. Mustafa in L’Italiana in Algeri is a close relative, as is Don Magnifico in La Cenerentola. The eponymous anti-hero in Don Pasquale is also a pitiable character – the slimy Dulcamara in L’Elisir d’amore less so. Later in history Sir John in Verdi’s Falstaff is possibly the most complex character in this mould, thanks to Boito’s masterly condensation of Shakespeare’s portraits and Verdi’s music. He has predecessors: Salieri wrote a Falstaff before Verdi was even born. On German ground Otto Nicolai created a rather likeable character in Die lustigen Weiber von Windsor. In operas by Lortzing and Flotow we encounter similar second cousins. We shouldn’t forget Osmin in Die Entführung aus dem Serail either. A lesser known but well delineated relative within the German sphere is Abul Hassan Ali Ebn Bekar, the larger-than-life barber in Peter Cornelius’s Der Barbier von Bagdad. He isn’t an evil person, quite the contrary, but he is a big braggart and manages to make a mess of things. The plot goes back to a story from ‘The Arabian Nights’ and a condensed version goes something like this:

The young and rich Nureddin is deeply in love with Margiana, the daughter of the Cadi. His childhood friend, Bostana, arranges a meeting and Nureddin sends for Abul Hassan Ali Ebn Bekar, the best barber in town, to make him presentable. The barber is more interested in talking about his knowledge of art and science and Nureddin asks his servants to throw him out. The Barber turns furious and chases the servants, knife in hand, but some tactical flatteries makes him calm down and do his job. When Nureddin tells him about his approaching meeting, the barber gets so excited that he offers to accompany Nureddin. In the second act the two lovers meet but are disturbed by the sudden return of the Cadi. Nureddin hides and when the barber hears cries from a slave being punished he believes it is Nureddin and rushes into the house. Believing Nureddin to have been murdered he sends for the Caliph, who arrives. Nureddin is found and pressurised by the Caliph. The Cadi accepts that the young couple should be married. The verbose barber makes such an impression on the Caliph that he is invited to work for him.

Not one of literature’s masterworks, maybe, but much thinner and more incomprehensible librettos have been successfully set to music. Cornelius’s opera was not a success at the premiere on 15 December 1858 at Hoftheater in Weimar. The composer describes the disaster as follows:

‘My work had drawn a full house. The performance filled the evening and was excellent, splendid, considering the difficulties the work presents. Right from the start, the applause was accompanied by persistent hissing from a hired, well-organized and expediently distributed group that was unprecedented in the annals of Weimar … At the end there was a fight lasting ten minutes.’

The reason for the debacle was decidedly not the quality of the music or the play. This was a protest against the conductor of the evening, Franz Liszt, whose radical ideas were not to everybody’s liking – and it was successful. The production was taken off the repertoire and Liszt resigned and left Weimar for good. But the one who suffered the most was Cornelius, who never saw his opera staged again during his lifetime. It was revived about twenty years later, again with no success. In 1884 in Karlsruhe, Felix Mottl – who orchestrated Wagner’s Wesendonck-Lieder – presented it, but in truncated and altered form. It was not until 1904 that it was staged in its original shape. After that it was regarded as one of the best German comic operas – next to Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg according to some judges.

I hadn’t heard the opera before, although there exist two studio recordings. Columbia set it down in London in 1956 with Erich Leinsdorf conducting and a starry cast including Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Nicolai Gedda, Hermann Prey and with Oskar Czerwenka as the barber. In the early 1970s Heinrich Hollreiser recorded it with Sylvia Geszty, Adalbert Kraus, Bernd Weikl and with Karl Ridderbusch as the barber. There also seems to have been an even older, Vienna-based recording, from 1952.

What I knew from as far back as the early 1960s was the overture, which appeared now and then in recordings and on concerts. I remembered it as something quite different from the usual potpourri of melodies from the subsequent opera. This piece, with a playing time of over seven minutes, is symphonically constructed – a kind of symphonic poem in fact. It is artfully orchestrated with a lot of woodwind solos and an orchestral texture that is transparent and airy - more Mozartean than Wagnerian. What is more: the whole opera is permeated by this artfulness with impressive ensembles and powerful but still translucent choruses with some contrapuntal writing. On top of all this there is an atmospheric entr’acte opening act two, thematically built on the muezzin’s proclamation of prayer. It is the only music in the score with an oriental touch.

The proceedings are dominated by Nureddin and Abul Hassan Ali Ebn Bekar, the barber. Both singers are excellent. Horst R. Laubenthal, then at the beginning of a great international career – was born in 1939 and made his debut in 1967. He has a mellifluous lyric tenor, ideally suited to Mozart and the lyric German tenor roles. He is also a vivid actor. The fine love duet in act two is one of the high-spots in the opera. There he is especially winning, partnered by Helen Donath, who here manages to soften her voice a little – elsewhere she can be irritatingly acidulous. There is nothing sour about Hans Sotin’s impressive barber, however. This must be a dream role for a fruity bass and Sotin revels in the opportunities to make a show. His is a large, sonorous, warm and evenly produced voice of exceptional beauty. The very lowest notes – and he is required to sing quite a few of them – are somewhat sketchy but otherwise he is admirable. He produces ringing top notes that many a baritone should envy.

The rest of the cast are more or less comprimarios, but the young Dale Duesing – he was only 26 at the time – is a fine Caliph. Veteran Fritz Peter is a Cadi full of character and Marga Schiml – also still in her twenties – does what she can with Bostana’s role. The versatile Ferdinand Leitner, who had a special affinity with Mozart, obviously enjoys the score. He is well supported by the Cologne Radio forces. The male chorus has a field day in the riveting Hinaus aus Hof und Haus (CD 1 tr. 7), where they are ordered to throw the cackling barber out of the house.

The sound is what is to be expected from a 35-year-old radio recording: not very spectacular but well balanced. I wouldn’t have minded some more cue-points and a libretto should have been included. Not many listeners will be familiar with the work and the brief synopsis is no substitute.

Whether Der Barbier von Bagdad will ever be a standard work again is hard to prophesy – this kind of story has probably lost its attraction to latter-day generations. It is nevertheless rather amusing and the music definitely deserves a better fate than oblivion.

-- Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International

This monumental release, which includes 23 albums, features the complete oeuvre of Austrian composer Anton Bruckner. Most known for his symphonies and masses, Profil has selected the very best recordings of these works in their catalog, featuring some of the finest ensembles in the world such as the Staatskapelle Dresden, Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin, Philharmonischer Chor Munchen, Bach-Collegium Stuttgart, and many more. Profil's previously released Bruckner collection was beautifully received by critics and fans alike, and now this revised collection is sure to receive even more widespread accolades.

The Profil label's Frederic Chopin: Simply the Best is a 6 CD overview of some of the finest works in the great Polish/French composer's curve, from his works for piano solo, including all 4 Scherzi, the 3 Sonatas and the Etudes, to both piano concerti, as well as lieder (Disc Six). The featured performers include the late, great Chopin master, pianist Artur Rubinstein, veteran Italian pianist and noted Chopin interpreter Maurizio Pollini, and younger performers Eugene Mursky (b. 1975, Uzbekistan), pianist and British baritone Konrad Jarnot (b. 1972).

Chopin's compositional oeuvre consists almost exclusively of solo piano works. They include very few of the sonatas and other cyclic forms preferred by composers of the Viennese Classical school. The majority are various one-movement pieces, many of which are still standard works. There are preludes, impromptus, fantasies, etudes, nocturnes, ballades, scherzos, rondeau and stylized dance forms. The latter include waltzes and especially polonaises and mazurkas from Chopin's native Poland. The Piano Concertos in E Minor, Op. 11 and in F Minor, Op. 21 for a small but important exception to the solo rule.

In Chopin’s oeuvre there is one genre that is particularly well represented: the mazurka. The vast majority of the 51 he published were written as an homage to and reminder of his homeland, which he never saw again after the Russian occupation of 1830/31. The mazurka is an eastern European folk dance in triple time that originates from the Polish province of Masovia, where Chopin grew up. In many cases, a mazurka comprises various individual sections, the names of which are nearly always derived from a region or ethnic group. One such section is the polonez, which is rhythmically related to the ceremonious polonaise. Quite interestingly, Beethoven named the third movement of his Triple Concerto op. 56 Rondo alla polacca. The mazur has a rhythmic structure underpinned by numerous dotted figures or triplets. The kujawiak is a slow-flowing folk dance in triple metre. The krakowiak is characterised by much syncopation. The oberek is a feisty dance. Chopin wrote in total 13 cycles of mazurkas. Here, they are performed by Chopin expert, pianist Eugene Mursky.