Van Cliburn's youthful impetuosity is most convincing. This is very much a performance that takes one along with it, just as a fine performance live in the concert hall would.

It is some eighteen months since Van Cliburn's surprisingly successful account of the Brahms Second Concerto appeared, and on the face of it this vast youthful inspiration of the First Concerto should suit Van Cliburn's special qualities even more closely. And so it proves, and though Leinsdorf and the Boston Symphony do not prove such perceptive collaborators as the lamented Reiner with his Chicago Orchestra, this is in terms of pianistic display and dynamic driving force as exciting a performance as we have ever had on record. The way for example that Van Cliburn in the finale sweeps the music on from the first subject into the second is irresistible. Those pianists who insist on relaxing may seem a little lacking in excitement in direct comparison—even to Clifford Curzon. Where they score—and Curzon of course is the prime example of a thinking virtuoso in this work—is in the subtlety of shading. You could not claim for Van Cliburn much sense of 'inner' thoughtfulness. But that does not mean he is hard, and throughout the warmth of the playing is as striking as the dynamic drive. It is a pity perhaps that in the American manner the soloist is put so close to the microphone, for it is hard for him to achieve a real pianissimo, however gently he plays. But RCA's technique of spotlighting individual instruments (not merely the piano) pays off very well at the climax of the slow movement—a moment that for me at least is perhaps the most important single passage in the whole work. If in the great call of the rising fourths slowly enunciated over piano arpeggios you have a sense of culmination and achievement such as opera composers provide at moments of dramatic catharsis, then I am disposed to think favourably of the whole performance. It is so with the Gimpel performance on HMV Concert Classics where Kempe is marvellous, and here Leinsdorf (with the help of the spotlighting engineers) directs with more warmth than I remember from him for a long time.

In the first movement of course, Curzon's subtlety coupled with his wiry strength is a hard combination to compete with, but Van Cliburn's youthful impetuosity is most convincing. The speed is not fast (much less fast than in the Fleisher/Szell performance for example) and Leinsdorf, though not specially good on detail, gives the music a tremendous sweep which exactly matches the soloist's sense of command.

I hope I have made it clear that this is very much, a performance that 'adds up'. In other words it takes one along with it, just as a fine performance live in the concert hall, and on that account I have been wary of drawing too sharp a contrast with Curzon on the basis of a side-by-side comparison of extracts. Curzon, I think, would be most people's choice, but if I wanted bravura above all, then Van Cliburn even more than his fellow young American, Leon Fleisher, provides it. Apart from the balance, the recording—I have so far heard mono only—is good, though it never achieves the atmospheric clarity that the Decca engineers provided for Curzon.

-- Gramophone [3/1965]
reviewing the original LP release of the concerto

A strikingly alert, fresh-faced reading of the Young Person's Guide, but the major attraction is the Sinfonia da Requiem, which immediately impresses with the focus and sheen of the orchestral playing.

I haven't enjoyed Britten's endlessly resourceful Young Person's Guide so much in ages... [A] strikingly alert, fresh-faced reading... When it comes to the Grimes Interludes, [Slatkin] concentrates on meticulous refinement, with radiantly airy textures throughout: the results are more coolly detached than we are used to hearing and often strikingly beautiful... [W]hat's more, [he] offers a notable bonus in the shape of a lucid and (once again) strikingly refined account of the ''Passacaglia'' from the same opera.

So what is left on the RCA collection? Well, there's a most eloquent, beautifully poised rendering of the Purcell Chaconne—Britten's loving realization can rarely have sounded more beguiling. But the major attraction here is the Sinfonia da Requiem. This could hardly start more promisingly, with fearsome ff timpani blows and balefully growling tuba. Again, what immediately impresses is the focus and sheen of the orchestral playing, but there's a price to pay, perhaps, in the shape of some lack of emotional thrust. It's the Dies irae centrepiece which bears this observation out most clearly: the demons certainly don't scamper quite as malevolently as they do on the composer's own 1964 Decca recording (which still, by the way, sounds absolutely stunning three decades on!)... Of course, this movement's shattering disintegration is as hair-raising as ever, and in the concluding ''Requiem aeternam'' Slatkin transmits a soothing, consolatory glow that many will find deeply moving.

In sum, [a] superior, finely engineered [addition] to the Britten discography; indeed, I can't imagine the majority of collectors will find much to disappoint them here.

-- Andrew Achenbach, Gramophone [3/1994]

If you can be disconcerted, I suppose it should be possible, linguistically speaking (and how else?), to be concerted. Brahms, in this sense, and taken in large doses such as are offered on these two records, is really just about the most concerted composer I know. The withering of the grass that is flesh, the "Menschenhass", the indifference of the gods to human life though it meets with disasters "like water dashed from crag to crag": in short, the worst that the Bible and the classics of his own language can throw at him, he surveys without flinching and transmutes into the goodness of finely structured, beautifully orchestrated music, eminently human yet capable of sublimity, never merely complacent but also (as it seems to me) very rarely disconcerted.

Sir Colin Davis's way with him strengthens such reactions. In the Schicksalslied his is the most serene account of Elysium and of the compatibility of Elysian security and earthly turbulence. Conductors as different from each other as Blomstedt (Decca) and Sinopoli (DG) are alike in their apparent conviction that what has to be done with this piece is to split it asunder, expose the chasm between its two worlds. Blomstedt's approach is probably philosophical, Sinopoli's dramatic, but they both go for the black and the white of it: Blomstedt takes 'Elysium' slowly and 'Earth' brutally fast and loud. Sinopoli moves in more doubtful fashion in the empyrean but then with demonic drive in the depiction of harried humanity. Davis forces nothing: he encourages neither lethargy nor wildness. Musically, his performance makes perfectly good sense of the return to calm, and all the argument about whether it constitutes an intentionally acquiescent 'happy ending' seems rather wide of the mark: musically the piece is a unity, and Davis's reading, like Brahms's composition, is thoroughly 'concerted'.

The soloist for the Alto Rhapsody is Nathalie Stutzmann, not entirely steady in her opening phrases but then deep-toned, and unusual in lightening the upper note in "der Falk der Liebe". [These performances] are gentle, both as recordings and interpretations. A bonus is the inclusion of the attractive and rarely heard Marienlieder of 1859: seven carol-like a cappella pieces, showing, among other things, the fine blend and sensitive shading of the Bavarian choir.

-- Gramophone [5/1993]

...Oppitz turns majestic and impassioned..., qualities he carries over to Concerto No. 2, which benefits from his refreshing alacrity and clever balancing of the work's classical and romantic character...

--Victor Carr Jr., ClassicsToday.com
reviewing this the 2nd Concerto, reissued as part of RCA 60388

The Spring Sonata...receives a sunlit, unhurried account that I enjoy. However, the first movement starts nearer Allegretto than the marked Allegro and the artists then move forward in the vigorous second subject, slowing down again for the exposition repeat. Oddly enough, even the Scherzo is a bit held back, with elan firmly held in check. But this gentle performance is all of a piece and Zukerman's mastery is evident throughout... [T]his sensitive performance [of the Kreutzer Sonata] has much to offer...

-- Gramophone [3/1994]

Attractive chamber music performed in a warmly conversational style with a little-known romantic rarity thrown in.

Listening to a good chamber music performance should be like eavesdropping on a mutually sympathetic conversation. Here, that conversation is between kindred spirits for whom musical phrasing and mellifluous tone production are evident priorities. Even when playing quietly, Stephen Hough exhibits an acute sense of tonal colour. Try from, say, 2'23'' into Brahms's finale, where he posits the main idea and his colleagues respond with like minds. Hough's transcription of Schumann's 'Traumerei' might, at first glance, seem like a somewhat old-fashioned appendage to an otherwise enterprising programme. And yet the musical result - where Michael Collins holds the main melody line until near the end of the piece, when Steven Isserlis takes over just for a couple of bars - is utterly captivating.

If the Brahms is 'the fruit of profound maturity' (to quote Isserlis's often entertaining booklet-note), Schumann's four Marchenerzahlungen - performed here with a cello in place of the original viola - combine forcefulness with a certain fragility. For example, the Lebhaft und sehr markiert second movement opens emphatically, then skips off in heady abandon before settling to a mood where the two elements - dark resolution and aerial fantasy - combine. As with so much late Schumann, Marchenerzahlungen seems at pains to make its point without knowing quite why. Therein lies its pathos and peculiar fascination.

The third major component in this well-planned romantic programme is by Lvov-born Carl Fruhling (1868-1937), a gifted composer who, according to Isserlis, partnered celebrated artists of the day and died in poverty. Many of Fruhling's works still await discovery (literally, as no one knows their precise whereabouts) but the Trio recorded here is full of lovely things. Yes, it is eclectic - Collins and Isserlis cite Wagner as an influence, whereas Hough prefers Grieg - but anyone with an ear for Chausson, Korngold, Godowsky or Kreisler is bound to love it. Again, I would quote the finale as an ideal sampling point, especially 5'25'' where Isserlis bows a wistful motive and Hough responds with music that momentarily edges towards Liszt's 'Vallee d'Obermann'.

A highly imaginative programme, one that is characterized above all by fine balancing - musically, interpretatively and technically.

-- Rob Cowan, Gramophone [1/2000]

There's no stopping the Price/Johnson bandwagon just now. Here is yet another profoundly enjoyable and well-considered offering from the pair. With Johnson to devise intelligent, logical programmes, Price and himself to interpret them, a remarkable unanimity of thought and confidence of manner is being achieved, the delights there for the taking.

Here we begin with six contrasted settings of Heine, all reasonably familiar songs, each given with a nice balance between breadth of phrasing and warmth of feeling, on both sides admirably tailored to the Brahms ethos and melos in the matter of song-writing. Some of these pieces appeared some years ago on an Orfeo recital by Price (2/87): the readings have matured like a good wine and now-as in Sommerabend-go to the very heart of the matter with a marvellous intertwining of voice and piano. The account of its companion-piece, Mondenschein, not before recorded by the soprano, fully realizes its autumnal melancholy in phrases that seem to linger endlessly in the air. As an emotional relief comes the charm and lightness of Es liebt sich so lieblich im Lenze!.

The judicious choice of Volkslieder settings once more indicates Brahms's deep understanding of the originals and just how to clothe them in appropriate harmonies, as in the antique Dorian mode of Sehnsucht and Vergangen ist mir Gluck und Heil, both sung and played here with an exquisite sense of longing. The singer changes colour, brightens her tone, for the bantering duologue of Spannung. Then there is the Schwung given to the repeated lines at the end of Madchenfluch, characterizing the girl's spite and frustration. Da unten im Tale is entirely free from the sophistication, admittedly effective, brought to it by Schwarzkopf on so many occasions: here the sad little plaint is allowed to speak for itself, but the verdict goes the other way in Vergebliches Standchen where Price is a trifle too staid.

Finally, the partnership lavish a winningly uninhibited elan on the Zigeunerlieder. If we are occasionally aware of a momentary strain on Price's present resources, we are consoled by the passionate spontaneity of the results. The recording is ideally balanced, intimate yet open.

Price must surely now be placed in the royal line of female Lieder singers that runs from Gerhardt and Lehmann, through Seefried, Schwarzkopf and Ludwig, to Ameling. The length of her actual discography of Lieder must now at least rival theirs. Being greedy, I wish she and Johnson would now turn their attention to Hugo Wolf.

-- Alan Blyth, Gramophone

BEST FRIENDS CLEO LAINE & JOH

Personnel: Lynn Allison, Gene Steck, Steve Steck, Johnny Desmond, Artie Malvin, Crew Chiefs, The Glee Club (vocals); Carmen Mastren (guitar); Nathan Kaproff, George Ockner, Dave Herman, Milton Edelson, Richard Motylinski, Earl Cornwell, CPL. Gene Bergen, David Sackson, Alfred Aulwurm, Fred Ostrovsky, Ernest Kardos, Joseph Kowalewski, Carl Swanson, Harry Katzman (violin); Dave Schwartz, CPL. Henry Brynan, Manny Wishnow, Stanley Harris (viola); CPL. Morris Bialkin, Bob Ripley (cello); Peanuts Hucko (clarinet, alto saxophone); Manny Thaler (bass clarinet, alto saxophone, baritone saxophone); Freddy Guera, Hank Freeman (alto saxophone); Jack Ferrier, Vince Carbone (tenor saxophone); Chuck Gentry (baritone saxophone); Whitey Thomas, Jack Steele, Zeke Zarchy, Bernie Privin, Bobby Nichols (trumpet); Addison Collins (French horn); Nat Peck, Larry Hall , Johnny Halliburton, Jim Harwood , Jimmy Priddy (trombone); Jack Russin, Mel Powell (piano); Frank Ippolito (drums).

Liner Note Author: Geoffrey Butcher.

Photographer: Edward F. Polic.

Arrangers: Ralph Wilkinson; Glenn Miller; Jerry Gray; Steve Steck; Norman Leyden; Bill Finegan; Mel Powell.

"...The great horn melody of the slow movement brings identifiably Russian tone for Svetlanov, euphonium-like without unpleasant whining...in the symphony, Svetlanov finds inspiration in the finale, with a sparkling scherzo section leading to a beautiful Nocturne."

Edward Greenfield - Gramophone [8/1994]

REVIEWS:
Fanfare (7-8/98, p.100) - "...The performances all seem good, as does the sound quality. There are other CDs that are more vital Berio, although this one certainly makes you think, which can't be bad these days."

Ofra Harnoy has caught a deal of unreasonable flak from certain quarters for herself ornamenting record front covers rather seductively. On this one she looks pensively over the bridge of her cello and no one could deny she is glamorous. But she is also a fine cellist and sustains this collection of rather sombre concertante works with some distinction.

She opens Bloch's Schelomo imaginatively and immediately creates the improvisatory response to its changing moods and colour that is essential in this piece. Mackerras is obviously strongly involved, and I have not heard the work's big, climactic orchestral tutti played with more passion. Again in the Kol Nidrei, with its noble Hebrew theme very sensitively shaped, the ruminative style is thoughtfully spontaneous, and the character of the music is so indelibly conveyed that it is difficult to believe that Bruch was not Jewish.

The Adagio on Celtic Themes has something in common with the Scottish Fantasia for violin and orchestra, and the performance here fully reveals its charm; again Mackerras's introduction has considerable fervour. Bruch's Ave Maria, although it has a firm melodic cantilena, brings more variety than the usual setting, and the cello is able to embroider the tune, before the hushed recapitulation, which is very gentle and tender. Excellent sound, made in Watford Town Hall: the climax of Schelomo (which is heavily scored) is as spectacular as any on record.

-- Ivan March, Gramophone [12/1991]

BLACKWELL SINGS BERNSTEIN - A

Karajan's RCA version, made in Vienna in 1964, owes much to Leontyne Price's seductive, smoky-toned Carmen... Robert Merrill sings with gloriously firm tone, while Mirella Freni is enchanting as Micaëla. -- The Penguin Guide to Compact Discs & DVDs [2003/4 edition]

We are well into the era of gramophonic scholarship when new sets keep arriving with an extra disc to provide what in the literary world would constitute appendices or textual notes. The latest is Bellini’s opera on the star-crossed lovers, itself star-crossed in a different sense when Maria Malibran, cast as Romeo at Paris in 1832 and dissatisfied with her part in the tomb scene, persuaded the management to substitute a version from an opera on the same subject by Nicola Vaccai, written and successfully produced some five years before Bellini’s. This proved to be not a mere one-off arrangement, as other star-Romeos, such as Marietta Alboni, were quick to see its advantages. Listeners can now judge for themselves, the whole of Vaccai’s finale, just over 30 minutes long, being given on the third CD. Included also are two passages from earlier in the opera, where Romeo’s part has been ornamented by Rossini, friend of Malibran and, as perhaps one should have suspected, himself instigator of the ingenious substitution.

So, rather as with another Romeo and Juliet opera, Gounod’s in the recent EMI recording (6/98), two critical duties have priority: to compare other recordings and assess the value of the additional record. The competition is really a straight one-to-one affair, for the third currently available recording (under Claudio Abbado) is of a live performance with the part of Romeo sung by a tenor and so destroying the fine blend and contrast of voices central to Bellini’s purpose. The rival version currently available is under Riccardo Muti, taken live from the Covent Garden stage in 1985. Perhaps it should be said that the performance I attended remains alight in memory as one of those rare occasions when the ideal suggested by the term bel canto did seem to materialize. Edita Gruberova and Agnes Baltsa were the lovers, both on shining best form, their voices pure in quality, extensive in range, beautifully managed and used with intense feeling for the drama and emotion inherent in the music. On record, inequalities in Gruberova’s singing obtrude in a slight and passing fashion where ‘in the flesh’ they were scarcely noticeable; hers is still a touching and imaginative performance of great distinction. Eva Mei, in the new set, does well but is not in that class. Vesselina Kasarova, on the other hand, certainly provides a match for Baltsa in vibrancy of timbre and fervour of expression. Where she lets herself down, and then rather badly, is in producing her low register in a way that seems inescapably imitative of Marilyn Horne. After the first few occurrences it becomes faintly comical; in some years’ time, if she continues in this way, it is likely to sound grotesque.

The male singers are of secondary importance in this opera, capable even so of swaying the balance in comparisons such as this. It might seem that the presence of Ramon Vargas in the cast would do just that, but his sympathetic voice makes Tebaldo (Tybalt) too likeable, whereas Dano Raffanti’s harder, less romantic tone suits better. Covent Garden’s Gwynne Howell is also a better Capulet than the rough-hewn voice-character of Umberto Chiummo. The part of Lorenzo (a doctor and not a friar in this version) suits the baritone voice better than the black bass of John Tomlinson; but it cannot be said that Simone Alberghini confers distinction.

If the new recording is to be preferred it must be on other grounds. The conducting might be one of them: Muti is tense and exciting but Roberto Abbado has Bellini’s lyricism within him (hear the finale to Act 1, for instance). He elicits fine playing from the Munich orchestra and the recorded sound gives less sense of confinement than in Covent Garden. But ultimately I think we come back to the bonus record and Nicola Vaccai. Workmanlike rather than inspired, it still makes an interesting comparison. Kasarova sings with intense co viction so that one quite sees Malibran’s reasons for preferring it. Moreover, the extra CD is a gift, the price being as for a set of two: well worth consideration.'

-- Gramophone [9/1998]