If Kissin were a singer, he would definitely be on the opera stage. He produces a sound which is deep, weighty and brilliant, and projects the opening of Kreisleriana as if he were Jove himself venting his rage.

Yevgeny Kissin may look like a marionette, but if he were a singer, he would definitely be on the opera stage. He does not bash, but he produces a sound which is deep, weighty and brilliant. He projects the opening piece of Kreisleriana as if he were Jove himself venting his rage – not quite the passionate eccentricity Schumann had in mind, perhaps, though the contrasting quiet section is delicious. Nor does the second piece begin quite ‘inwardly’ as marked, though it is very considered, and while Kissin makes the first Intermezzo dazzling, he misses Schumann’s simple joy. From the second Intermezzo alone you know it is Kissin playing because of his characteristic – and deliberate – dragging of the left hand behind the right. His constant virtue is commitment to every single note he plays, which makes the final section of this extended piece, if much larger than life, incredibly compelling.

No pianist today (or yesterday) is more lavishly gifted than Kissin purely as a technician. For natural brilliance, perhaps, Martha Argerich compares, and it is her recording of Kreisleriana with which this new release invites comparison. Though Kissin’s recording is rich and spacious, it doesn’t make use of the microphone to produce all those half-lights and impalpable shadows that Argerich achieved. And Kissin hasn’t Argerich’s range of response to the picturesque – none of her secretive mood in the third piece, her impish glee in the fifth, nor above all, her sense of intimacy.

And yet, on its own, very ‘public’ terms, this issue is overwhelming, with a performance of the Bach-Busoni Chaconne which, for once, bears no sign of straining the medium.

Performance: 5 (out of 5), Sound: 5 (out of 5)

-- Adrian Jack, BBC Music Magazine

The incomparable violinist Jascha Heifetz lends his prodigious talents to four performances of three famous film composers of the middle of the 20th century. Enjoy the work of Korngold, Rozsa and Waxman like never before in Heifetz's deft hands.

A wonderful release of Bela Bartok's 1943 work, which to this day is the Hungarian's most recognizable works. Performed by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra led by Fritz Reiner, this CD is a perfect introduction to the modernist classical movement, and a wonderful addition to any collection of the great classical composers.

Personnel: Gil Scott-Heron (vocals, flute, piano, bells); Horace Ott, Johnny Pate (conductor); Brian Jackson (vocals, flute, acoustic & electric pianos, bells); David Barnes (vocals, percussion); Hubert Laws (saxophone, piccolo, flute); David Spinozza, Burt Jones (guitar); Ron Carter (acoustic & electric basses); Gerry Jemmott (bass); Bernard Purdie (drums); Eddie Knowles, Charlie Saunders (congas, percussion).
Producer: Bob Thiele.
Compilation producer: John Snyder.
Engineers include: Bob Simpson, Ray Hall.
Recorded between 1970 and 1972. Includes liner notes by Tom Terrell.
Digitally remastered by Tom MacCluskey (1997, BMG Studios, New York, New York).

This 1971 album from the quintessential "street poet" laid a foundation way back in the early 1970s for rap music and hip hop artists as Gil performed his music tainted with a political and social commentary. He ultimately landed on charts for jazz and then R&B. This early look at the no-nonsense musician is as powerful today as when it was first released.

Argentinian saxophonist Gato Barbieri teamed up with his greatest contemporaries for these two albums, which bring in soul, Afro-Cuban, Brazilian and other influences to make a truly remarkable set of jazz performances. Features the likes of John Abercrombie, Airto, Stanley Clarke, Bernard Purdie and many more.

The Far East Suite is an album by Duke Ellington and his orchestra, recorded in New York City on 19 December to 21 December 1966. The nine compositions on the original album were all composed by Ellington and Billy Strayhorn (except for one by Ellington).

Benny Goodman's jazz clarinet was as finely-tuned and and expertly used as any instrument in the history of popular music, "The King Of Swing" brought the raucous stomp of big band jazz to the masses. "Sing Me A Song (And Let Me Dance)" is a perfect encapsulation of the Goodman ethos. Why sit when you could swing?

Without doubt, this French domestic release is the finest single disc of Poulenc concertos available, better even than the composer's recordings, and that's saying a lot. They have everything: style, spirit, a vivid sense of fun, a touch of sentiment that never turns maudlin, and that ability to change moods every few bars that Poulenc always requires. In the Concerto for Two Pianos Eric Le Sage and Frank Braley have a field day tossing phrases back and forth, or hauntingly recreating those gamelan sounds that infiltrate the work at critical moments (particularly at the end of the first movement). From the delicious, faux-Mozartian central Larghetto to the jazzy finale, the players relish every nuance. It's a blast.


Here, as in the other two works, conductor Stéphane Denève perfectly captures the wry, "sec" quality of Poulenc's orchestral writing with vivacious rhythmic underpinning and crystal clear textures. La Sage's interpretation of the Piano Concerto simply wipes the floor with the competition. He's one of the few artists who knows how to savor the music's salon ambience without wallowing, and the tempos he and Denève choose are ideal. Aubade, an odd ballet/concerto that has been frequently recorded, seldom satisfactorily, for once enjoys an accompaniment as characterful and involving as the piano part, with terrific contributions from the solo winds. The final couple of minutes are simply magical. Beautifully clean, well-balanced sonics round out this enticing picture. Let's hope RCA makes this release available internationally. It's unbeatable. [5/12/2005]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This is an excellent set, intelligently assembled, scrupulously prepared, lucidly recorded, played with a freshness and wit that serve these delightful pieces well.

Mendelssohn's extraordinary precocity is nowhere more comprehensively shown than in the 13 early string symphonies, and though it is extraordinary that these were unknown until 1960, it is scarcely less so that there are still works in Berlin awaiting editing and performance. The symphonies are exceptional, though, in that the range of their invention far exceeds what might be expected of even so prodigiously talented a boy. He had been rigorously schooled in Bach counterpoint, and in harmony partly by way of the chorale; and impressive examples of his diligence have been published in R. Larry Todd's Mendelssohn's Musical Education (Cambridge: 1983). But the inventiveness with which this schooling was put into effect remains dazzling, as with (to take only two examples) the chorale idea in the Minuet of the Sixth Symphony or the brilliant contrapuntal writing in the Eighth Symphony, in which the more immediate inspiration was Mozart, and in particular the Jupiter Symphony.

Roy Goodman makes use of the version with wind instruments for this symphony, which Mendelssohn made within three days of having written the original, and (with one reservation) accepts Mendelssohn's astonishingly fast tempo markings. He brings them off brilliantly, even the helter-skelter bass pizzicatos in the Trio of the Minuet. He also shows, with the use of period string techniques, how quick Mendelssohn's ear was for novel sonorities. An affection for the still underprivileged viola may have come from Mozart, but Mendelssohn would also have heard these sounds pioneered by Weber (who otherwise barely influenced him in these works). There are beautiful string sonorities even in the very earliest works, especially in the often darkly-hued slow movements; and the finales have all the pace and wit of the more mature Mendelssohn (that is to say, when he was in hisleens). Goodman judges tempo well, which is to say he has a shrewd sense of weight as well as of pace. He also directs from the keyboard, which it is certain Mendelssohn himself would have done at those famous Sunday morning concerts in his parents' Berlin house, and he permits himself the occasional contribution: both in theory and in practice, this is entirely in style.

This is an excellent set, intelligently assembled, scrupulously prepared, lucidly recorded, played with a freshness and wit that serve these delightful pieces well. It includes the Sinfoniesatz, an isolated piece of romantic baroque with a slow introduction and a quasi-fugal fast section, less attractive than the other works but worth including for curiosity value.

-- Gramophone [1/1996]

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

This double-CD set from RCA Japan (courtesy of Arkivmusic.com's on-demand reprint program) preserves what presumably is the best of Mieczyslaw Horszowski's December 9 and 11, 1987 Casals Hall Tokyo recitals, along with the encores from each date. Listen blindly and you'd guess that an older yet quite well preserved and highly experienced pianist was at work, someone between 60 or 75. Try the 95-years-young Horszowski, who's on top form.

True, he doesn't exactly sprint through the Chopin B minor Scherzo's outer sections as he did back in 1940, but he makes a virtue out of necessity by leisurely unfolding and consistently sustaining the music's polyphonic interest. This also holds true for the C-sharp minor Polonaise. The A-flat Impromptu amounts to a bel canto masterclass, while Horszowski requires only dabs of pedal to project the Mozart K. 332 sonata's first movement to such texturally differentiated effect.

The Bach Fifth English Suite is full-bodied and virile yet sensitively delineated (the Prélude's effortlessly conversational flow between hands, each of the Passepied's bouncy, delightfully ambidextrous qualities). Perhaps the fountain of youth kicks in strongest with the two Villa-Lobos miniatures, served up with red-blooded élan. The encores abound with memorable moments. Horszowski plays the Op. 25 No. 2 Etude's opening statement as if he were kneading the triplet passagework into a seamless legato line, yet upon its reiteration he lightens the tone and mostly eschews the pedal.

Force and finesse are the yin and yang elements that anchor the three Nocturnes. The elusive yet palpable give and take of Horszowski's rubato in the B minor Op. 33 No. 4 Mazurka is easier for to you hear than for me to describe. Horszowski played Mendelssohn's Spinning Song on both concerts; the second version is more fluent and relaxed. He also repeated the Mozart sonata's Adagio, or, more accurately, sang it out in full operatic splendor. The slightly distant microphone placement accurately depicts Horszowski's tone from the perspective of an audience member sitting in the best seat of the house. Notes in Japanese only.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Music and lyrics by Lionel Bart.

Principal cast includes: Ron Moody (Fagin), Jack Wild (Artful Dodger), Mark Lester (Oliver), Shani Wallis (Nancy), Harry Secombe (Bumble), Peggy Mount (Mrs. Bumble), and Sheila White (Bet).

Ron Moody recreates his magnificent stage performance as Fagin on this soundtrack album of what must be the best British musical film ever. Shani Wallis replaced Georgia Brown as Nancy, and, together with Mark Lester (Oliver), Jack Wild (Artful Dodger) and Oliver Reed (the sinister Bill Sikes), gives Lionel Bart's marvellous score the full treatment. Highlights are impossible to select; Oliver's tender "Where Is Love?" and Fagin's "You've Got To Pick A Pocket Or Two" linger in the memory, but the complete set is as fresh now as when it was released over 25 years ago. In those pre-Lloyd Webber days, musicals had lots of strong songs, not just one.