Pianist Sviatoslav Richter and cellist Mstislav Rostropovich were among Prokofiev's friends during the last years of his life. They inspired the composer to continue his work and he, in turn, dedicated his 1947 Ninth Piano Sonata to Richter. For Rostropovich he wrote an amazing group of late works, among which was the Sonata for Cello and Piano. Both the Ninth Piano Sonata and the C Major Cello Sonata are considered masterpieces, finding Prokofiev at the height of his powers. The two Sonatinas, Op. 54 are delightful miniature Sonatas, each lasting less than 10 minutes. The two illustrious artists featured on this disc, Donohoe and Wallfisch, partner each other affectionately and in perfect harmony in this recording.

"...Great things were hoped for in Donohoe's new series, the first volume of which features the first five of the composer's nine sonatas. I am comprehensively blown away by the results. There is not a crash-bang-wallop in sight: bags of power, yes, but power focused and targeted at strategic points. What you will hear is a stream of light, pellucid lyricism, from the Romanticism of the early one-movement First Sonata to the delicious classical turn in the opening phrase of the Fifth, along with all the character and acrobatics that begin to emerge through this group. This is Prokofiev as you have not heard him. A major re-evaluation from a towering pianist is under way." - Michael Tumelty, The Herald, Scotland

This release brings exciting news for all lovers of English Song. This has been a close collaboration between SOMM and Andrew West partnering Susa Gritton, James Gilchrist and Roderick Williams, three charismatic singers at the top of their profession.

Michele Andalo is the countertenor with the Cappella Teatina directed by Saverio Villa in this album of sacred works by Nicola Porpora, (1686 – 1768) a Neapolitan Baroque composer who usually specialized in operas. Porpora was also noted as a teacher of musicians and composers. Among his many students was Joseph Haydn.

This is the second disc of songs with Sally Silver and Richard Bonynge appearing on SOMM. The collection of songs on this CD ranges across the whole of Massenet's career as a composer. This selection also includes duets and other settings for solo voice groupings, of which Massenet composed many.

"What an adventurous move it is for a record company to provide listeners with the opportunity to hear songs that have not been committed to disc time and time again." - IRR

This delightful album of Spanish music arranged for strings and celebrating the 150th anniversary of Enrique Granados, was recorded by legendary conductor Jose Serebrier and Concerto Malaga String Orchestra founded in 1996. The orchestra is now one of the foremost ensembles in Spain, best known for its dedicated research into string repertoire ranging from the 17th century onwards. Ther recording pays tribute to one of Spain's most important composers, Enrique Granados and also includes works by Granados's contemporaries and successors who played active roles in promoting Barcelona's and Madrid's musical life in the middle of the 19th century. Over a century after his tragic death, Granados's music continues to entertain and inspire performers and listeners the world over. He spent his entire life in Barcelona and contributed to its musical life as apianist, composer, teacher, conductor, and concert organizer. He was thus only a true champion of Spanish music but he was also a leading figure in the Catalan movement known as modernisme which was on display in much of Barcelona's architecture from around 1900. Granados's best-known collection of 12 Danzas espanolas was premiered in Barcelona in 189. No. 5, Andaluza, transports us to the south of Spain with its suggestion of an impassioned song supported by an energetic guitar accompaniment. Orienta is an all-purpose adjective that suggests anything associated with Andalusia or the Middle East. The Intermezzo from his opera Goyescas and the hauntingly beautiful Pequena Romanza are eloquent examples of his broad stylistic range.

A truly invigorating new release from SOMM, this record brings us Leon McCawley in a recording of four Haydn Piano Sonatas together with the set of Variations in F minor (Sonata-Un piccolo divertimento). Siva Oke first heard Leon play Haydn during a recital for the Chopin Society and was immediately struck by the many wonderful qualities he brought to his playing which captured classical purity and pristine articulation coupled with warmth, plasticity and wit. Widely acknowledged as one of Britain’s foremost pianists, McCawley has forged a highly successful career since winning First Prize in the 1993 International Beethoven Piano Competition in Vienna and Second Prize at the leeds International Piano Competition, building on his earlier success as Winner of the Piano Section of BBC Young Musician of the Year in 1990. Since then, his impressive discography which includes the much-lauded complete cycle of Mozart Sonatas for Avie has established him as a pianist of great integrity and variety, bringing freshness and vitality to classical, romantic and 20th century repertoire. The more than 50 piano sonatas of Haydn were the first by any composer, for it was he who first applied the word ‘Sonata’ to a solo piano piece. Haydn’s influence on Mozart Beethoven, and all the other great composers who followed him, was hugely significant, yet it is only in quite recent times that the importance and originality of his piano sonatas have gradually come to be recognized. The Sonatas on this release have long been part of McCawley’s repertoire. They reflect eh range of Haydn’s genius in the genre he invented, and McCawley’s performances are full of the insight and virtuosity which have made him one of the major international artists currently before the public.

London Handel Players:
Rachel Brown Flute • Adrian Butterfield, Oliver Webber Violins • Peter Collyer Viola • Katherine Sharman Cello • Laurence Cummings Harpsichord/Organ

An admirable performance of a rare work.

‘The worst libretto Handel ever set … the construction is clumsy, the characterisation incredible,’ wrote Winton Dean, with his typical panache, in his and Merrill Knapp’s classic book on the earlier Handel operas. Never mind: if one is prepared to accept that Handel’s dramatic muse sometimes nodded, and just enjoy the music for what it is, Silla is amply worth a hearing. It had its first English revival in spring 2000, in the Handel series that Denys Darlow directs at the Royal College of Music, and the present recording is a by-product of those performances.

The opera, probably Handel’s shortest, dates from 1713 and seems, oddly, to have been written for a private performance at the main London opera house in honour of a new French Ambassador – although there is no certainty that the performance actually took place. The plot, an absurd farrago about the Roman dictator Sulla (‘Silla’ is the Italianised form), here a ruthless murderer who makes unsuccessful grabs at two of the three women in the cast (the third is his wife) and then suddenly repents, seems decidedly inappropriate for a festive occasion, or indeed any occasion at all. It’s the kind of libretto that has got baroque opera a bad name. Its sole merit – and this is quite important – is that it does allow opportunities for a considerable range of musical expression.

Curiously, however, Handel doesn’t seem to have been fully alert to those opportunities. Sulla himself, for example, gets music more amiable than so odious a character seems to deserve (including a truly lovely ‘sleep song’, with recorders), and the music for his wife Metella is often absurdly at odds with the text and her situation. But there are many attractive numbers, notably some telling music for the two pairs of lovers who find themselves threatened by Sulla’s importunities – Lepido and Flavia have two duets, the second a miniature but intensely poignant F minor Adagio, while Celia grieves the (supposed) death of her Claudio in a heartfelt G minor sarabande.

The mainly youthful cast here – these performances traditionally give opportunities to promising young singers – are very successful and I am sure we will hear a lot more of some of them. Rachel Nicholls sings Metella’s music in a pleasant, natural and very even voice, strong and resolute in the big aria that ends Act 2. As Celia, Elizabeth Cragg shows a lighter voice with a hint of an attractively grainy quality; Natasha Marsh’s full and rounded voice rings out to excellent effect in Flavia’s arias.

Except for the brief appearance of ‘Il Dio’, an odd kind of god who encourages Sulla’s ferocity in his dream vision (ably taken by Christopher Dixon), there are no true male voices. Lepido is sung by Joanne Lunn in a fresh, bright voice, accurate and rhythmic; Claudio is taken by Simon Brown, a capable and fluent countertenor with a strong and clear top register and much subtlety in handling details of stress and timing. He has a fine aria with trumpet to end Act 1. Sulla himself is sung by a Handelian of considerable and obvious experience – a fine model for the young members of the cast: James Bowman shows his knowledge of how to shape and colour Handel’s lines and (as in the fiery Act 2 aria) to sing forcefully and still musically. The voice rings well even if the lower register now has a little less character.

All the singers add a little, generally discreet ornamentation in the da capo sections. Denys Darlow, as always, conducts in a direct and unaffected fashion, showing consideration for the singers and understanding of Handel, with a good range of tempos and with spruce, lively rhythms. Handelians will not want to miss this chance of hearing a rare work admirably performed.'

-- Stanley Sadie, Gramophone [3/2001]

The first English oratorio? It’s hard to imagine a better introduction

This is a particularly welcome and important world-premiere recording. Handel composed Esther in about 1718?20 for James Brydges, the Earl of Carnarvon (and later Duke of Chandos), using a libretto that was anonymously adapted from Thomas Brereton’s English translation of a play by Racine. This slender work, containing only six scenes, lays a strong claim to being the first English oratorio, but Handel seems not to have considered performing it for a public audience until 1732, when the entrepreneurial composer thoroughly revised the score to fit his company of Italian opera singers (including Senesino, Strada and Montagnana, who all sang in English), and enlisted the aid of the writer Samuel Humphreys to expand the drama with additional scenes (which made the oratorio long enough to fill a theatre evening, advantageously fleshed out some of the characters a little bit, and also enhanced the musical attractiveness of the oratorio). This is the historic version of Esther that launched Handel’s oratorio career in London, but it has remained inexplicably neglected in modern times.

Laurence Cummings is one of our finest and most natural Handelian conductors. The Israelite Woman’s sensuous opening number “Breathe soft, ye gales” (featuring recorders, oboes, bassoons, harp, theorbo, five-part strings and organ) is neatly judged by the impressive London Handel Orchestra. The superb choir is enthusiastic and masterful, and the two inserted Coronation Anthems My heart is inditing and Zadok the Priest (the latter given a parody text) are both performed magnificently. James Bowman sounds a little fragile in the most extensive coloratura passages written for Senesino in “Endless fame”, and the part of Mordecai seems uncomfortably low for Susan Bickley (which is not helped by the dragging speed of “Dread not, righteous Queen, the danger”), but in general the soloists form a consistently solid team. Christopher Purves is marvellous as the scheming and bullying evil minister Haman, and is equally good at singing the pitiful and lyrical “Turn not, O Queen, thy face away” when the villain fears his deserved doom.

The all-round excellence of this live concert performance from Handel’s parish church, St George’s, Hanover Square, makes it an essential treat for Handelians.

-- David Vickers, Gramophone [1/2008]

Classical Music

GEMINIANI Sonatas, op. 1 • London Handel Players • SOMM 2482 (2 CDs: 119:47)

Regarding Geminiani’s habit of revising his music and reissuing it, Adrian Butterfield remarks in his liner notes to this release, “Reworking musical material of one’s own or another one’s composition was, in any case, practiced by many greater composers, Bach, Handel and Mozart in the first place.” This is true, though Geminiani appears to have taken matters much further than they, relative to the quantity of work itself. There are two points in his defense. The first is pragmatic: the consumption of published music being as frantic as it was by the 18th century, new music quickly became old and forgotten. A composer did well to keep his name and compositions before the eye of the public. The second is personal. Geminiani was an extremely astute observer of the international musical scene, who adapted to the changing tastes of the times. There is a long developmental path between the Corellian passages and structures in the original edition of his Sonatas, op. 1 (1716), and his Rebel-like ballet, The Inchanted Forest (1756). He also adapted many of his works to suit those changes, and nowhere is that more evident, as this recording shows, than in the three editions (and a half; some movements he recast for harpsichord) of those same sonatas.

With each of his three editions (1716, 1739, 1757), Geminiani made some alternations that reflect a change of approach. The 1739 version adds numerous written ornaments (often French in style) as well as providing fingerings, where the 1716 version left much more room for the soloist to embellish on their own. The 1757 version turns the works into trio sonatas by the addition of a second violin. More importantly, in each subsequent edition Geminiani effectively refashioned at least some of the sonatas. The Ninth demonstrates how thoroughly this was achieved between the 1737 and 1757 editions. The deliberate thematic simplicity of the Andante movement in 1737 is touching, but by 1757 it has nearly doubled its length, with the second violin sometimes providing the melody in thirds, or supplying counterpoint, along with a few fine moments of passing dissonance. What was charming before is now impressive.

This brings up one matter of regret I have about this recording: that the London Handel Players didn’t offer up two editions side-by-side in more than just the Ninth Sonata (if we exclude the Sixth Sonata, and a movement of the Fourth in which one version features Geminiani’s own harpsichord arrangements.) And why are we given two versions of the 10th and one each of the Seventh and 11th by other hands, but not by Geminiani? Granted, the Seventh and 10th allow us to hear transcriptions respectively for treble recorder and flute that demonstrate Rachel Brown’s facility, stylishness, and breath support to excellent advantage. But with almost 20 minutes free on one disc and nearly 15 on the other, surely we could have had all of the originals, and a few in multiple editions of the composer’s that would have illustrated the points Butterfield makes so tellingly based on the Ninth alone.

It is my only musical criticism, though, given the lack of easily available competition on disc, a significant one. Of the performances, I have nothing but praise to offer. Paul Butterfield’s tone is light and mellifluous throughout. His technique is clean and even, notable for its application of discreet accenting around cadences, and its sweetness in legato passages. Vibrato is used properly as an infrequent coloring device on longer notes, and to excellent effect. Oliver Webber balances perfectly with him in the 1757 trio sonata versions (the Second, Fifth, Sixth, and Ninth), while Laurence Cummings adds a welcome touch of style brisé to the pieces drawn from Geminiani’s two published collections of harpsichord music in 1743 and 1762. Unlike some other groups, the London Handel Players aren’t inclined to push slow tempos, but strive for internal contrast. In short, these are very fine performances indeed.

The engineering is excellent, with just enough roominess to give a bloom to the instruments without obscuring individual lines. The solo harpsichord cuts should have been recorded at a higher volume level, though. I found it necessary to turn my receiver’s volume up for Cummings, and down again once the ensemble began playing.

With reservations noted, then, strongly recommended. Geminiani has been a personal favorite of mine among Italian Baroque composers ever since I first heard his The Inchanted Forest roughly 40 years ago, followed later by the Concerti Grossi, op. 3, and the Sonatas, op. 5. In his music something of the fancy of the Elizabethan consort composers sticks long beyond its time; or perhaps this is because he observed how the English of his day still enjoyed the whimsical touch, through the Scarlatti enthusiasts (Avision, most prominently), not to mention Handel’s own Concerti Grossi. The London Handel Players do him right.

FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

A MusicWeb International Recording of the Month!

An imaginative and intelligent programme this, all three works performed with style, panache and polish.

For me, the most interesting piece here is the Poulenc Sonata, written in 1943 during the German occupation of France. Here Poulenc is deploring fascism. Rather than aiming his ire directly at the Nazis, he prefers an indirect assault by targeting the Spanish fascists and the 1930s Spanish Civil War and specifically eulogising the great Spanish poet, Federico Garcia Lorca, a rightly mourned fatality of that war. Poulenc’s soufflés of insouciance that abound in the concertos are not in evidence here; rather, the opening movement is earnest – passionately, fierily defiant and turbulent – but it is also not without poignancy and appropriate sentimentality. The music here is ambitious, imaginative and intelligently assembled. There is notable and frequent use of pizzicato writing that clearly suggests that for a guitar. The gorgeous, haunting elegiac middle Movement, marked Intermezzo, is aptly headed by a quotation from Lorca – ‘The guitar makes dreams weep’. The final movement, marked Presto tragico, starts with lighter material at speed before the pace becomes halting and tragic and anguished as, with a crestfallen screech (suggesting, perhaps, Lorca’s violent end?), the music comes to an abrupt full stop.

The adorable, memorable melodies that form the opening and closing movements of the deservedly popular Franck Sonata are lovingly articulated and shaped by the Carlock-Combet duo, and they are nicely contrasted with the fiery, protesting yet yearning material of the second Allegro movement and the more inward contemplation of the Recitativo-Fantasia.

Saint-Saëns’ first Violin Sonata is cast in four movements, but the first and second are joined and so, too, are the third and fourth, effectively producing a two-part work. The first two-part section moves seamlessly from the imposing dramatic opening, contrasted with the intimacy of the lovely second subject, to the beauty of the Adagio – tender, intimate and sensually winding. The first part of the second section, Allegretto Moderato, skips along to remind one of Mendelssohn and, perhaps, Kreisler, while the closing Allegro molto rushes headlong with sparkling virtuosity towards a glowing, majestic conclusion.

– MusicWeb International (Ian Lace)

ELGAR Quadrilles: Die junge Kokette; L’Assomoir; La brunette; Paris; A Singing Quadrille. The Valentine: Five Lancers. Polkas: Maud; Nelly; La Blonde; Helcia; Blumine. Menuetto. Andante and Allegro for Oboe and String Trio. Duett for Trombone and Double Bass. Fugue for Oboe and Violin • Barry Collett, cond; Innovation C Ens; Zoë Beyers (vn); Louise Williams (va); Richard Jenkinson (vc); John Tattersdill (db); Victoria Brawn (ob); Duncan Wilson (trb) • SOMM 252 (76:59)


Back in the 19th century, music therapy was important in a number of what were then called “lunatic asylums.” Gottschalk used to play, with great enthusiasm, at an institution in Utica, New York. And in 1879, the young Elgar was given a position as “Bandmaster” at the Powick Asylum, a couple of miles outside Worcester. His job was to compose dance music for the inmates—and this recording apparently gathers up all the quadrilles, lancers, and polkas that still survive, in editions by Andrew Lyle (who, along with Barry Collett, is also responsible for filling out the sketch score of A Singing Quadrille ).


Given Elgar’s relative inexperience (he was no prodigy), given the utilitarian function of the music, given the seedy, hodge-podge orchestration (limited to friends and colleagues, his ensemble—according to Lyle’s scrupulous notes—consisted of a few violins sometimes supplemented by a viola, a cello, a bass, a piccolo, a flute, a clarinet, two cornets, a euphonium, a bombardon, and a piano) … given the circumstances, you wouldn’t expect to this to be first-rate music. And it isn’t. Nor, despite a measure or two here and there that look ahead, does it give us much sense of the composer to come. If, hearing it without identification, you were asked to guess the origins of the first dance in Die junge Kokette , you’d be apt to guess it a minor chip off Sullivan’s workbench before you’d assign it to Elgar; much of the rest is more anonymous still. Even so, the music—more vital, rhythmically, than much of Elgar’s early output—is dotted with attractive tunes and artful harmonic turns. There are also a fair share of whimsical musical references: The last dance in the set of lancers seems to hint at Gaudeamus Igitur , just as L’Assomoir (Elgar’s misspelling) sounds momentarily as if it were a cousin to Gounod’s Funeral March for a Marionette —and A Singing Quadrille is overtly, and very shrewdly, based on pre-existing material, including nursery rhymes. The disc is filled out with a few chamber works that were not written for Powick—the most interesting is the wacky 1887 “duett” (Elgar’s spelling again) for trombone and double bass, a cheeky minute or so during which the composer delights (as Stravinsky was to do much later in Pulcinella ) in the sheer absurdity of the combination.


Nothing here is especially deep: If the title of L’Assomoir refers to Zola, the music assuredly doesn’t. As a result, you might not want to listen carefully to this whole disc straight through. Still, in small doses, or as background music, it’s got plenty of charm—and this is obviously the place to turn if you’re interested in getting to know it. Yes, Collett recorded most of this music with the Rutland Sinfonia a quarter-century ago. But that disc, which I’ve not heard, is long out of print; and the remakes, based on the new Elgar edition and featuring a snappy group drawn from the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, are as idiomatic as you could want. Add to this the fine engineering and the presence of three first recordings (the Menuetto , the Andante and Allegro , and A Singing Quadrille ), and you have a disc that should attract the more avid of Fanfare ’s Elgarians.


FANFARE: Peter J. Rabinowitz

Classical Music