Boris Giltburg, the Russian-born Israeli pianist who won the 2013 Queen Elisabeth Competition, is that genuine rarity: a pianist whose Rachmaninov is entirely idiomatic yet intensely personal in a way that yields fresh perspectives on this well traversed repertory.

His sense of rhythm is impeccable, with a chaste application of rubato that is organically derived from the life of the phrase. He is a master of the great surges and retractions of energy so specific to the composer. Giltburg’s pellucid sound is never forced; his large dynamic range has a soft spectrum, between mezzo-piano and ppp, which is infinitely calibrated and shaded. His eloquence derives from a poise and restraint that, while uniquely his own, is not unlike the aristocratic delivery that was the hallmark of Rachmaninov’s playing.

Without ostentation or fuss, he has examined these scores in every kind of light, lived with them and come up with a vision that, without being wilfully contrarian, is nevertheless something beyond received wisdom. I suspect that before long this vision will place him among the truly memorable Rachmaninov interpreters, an elect including Moiseiwitsch, Horowitz, Kappel, Richter and Cliburn. His originality stems from a convergence of heart and mind, served by immaculate technique and motivated by a deep and abiding love for one of the 20th century’s greatest composer-pianists.

– Gramophone

The fourth volume of what promises to be a complete Chopin piano music survey from Louis Lortie contains five nocturnes and the 19 waltzes. Lortie devises a running order that mixes and matches the works to achieve variety and contrast. For example, the youthful E-flat waltz (the one that Michelangeli often played as an encore) emerges like a ray of sunshine following the wistfully lyrical B minor Op. 69 No. 2, while the short, lightheartedly flashy posthumous A-flat waltz serves as a cameo-like bridge between the grand, multithematic E-flat Op. 18 and A-flat Op. 34 No. 1 waltzes.

In general, Lortie is at his elegant best. He lovingly lingers over phrases in the posthumous A minor waltz as if he’s reluctant to let the bittersweet phrases go. As with the B-flat minor Op. 9 No. 1 nocturne, Lortie’s E minor waltz is supple and small of scale, in contrast to more dynamic, surging interpretations. Lortie’s brisk, liberally-pedaled F minor waltz imparts a floating, almost weightless character to the work. Similarly, the flexible, well-proportioned A minor Op. 34 No. 2 waltz never drags, and the F major Op. 34 No. 3’s “dog chasing its tail” right-hand runs are doled out with remarkable evenness and control.

The A-flat Op. 42 goes swimmingly by any standard, although a wider dynamic scope and bigger climaxes would have elevated the performance from memorable to irresistible. However, Lortie illuminates the B major Op. 32 No. 1 nocturne’s dark undercurrents by way of pronounced yet logical modifications of the basic pulse. His uptempo way with the A-flat Op. 64 No. 3 waltz reminds me a little of Rachmaninov’s similarly paced, poker-faced interpretation.

Of the two Op. 37 nocturnes, I prefer Lortie’s G minor for its introspective simplicity. The G major is quite pretty on the surface (the beautifully pointed chromatically descending notes in the left hand, for example), but Ashkenazy’s greater breadth and more incisive right-hand double notes get more out of the music. One also could imagine additional rhythmic kick to the central mazurka section in Lortie’s sensitively shaded posthumous C-sharp minor nocturne. The smooth and discreetly resonant engineering complements Lortie’s artistry. All told, this release is an enticing, albeit lower-voltage, alternative to recent Chopin waltz cycles from Stephen Hough and Alexandre Tharaud, with a generous 83-minute total playing time.

-- Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

When I was young, there were three pianists whom I always hoped to be able to hear in person, Rudolf Serkin, Vladimir Horowitz, and Arthur Rubenstein. I finally heard all three, Horowitz only once. These were, of course, the most high-profile pianists living in the United States in the post-WW II years, and all three had prominent recording contracts to keep their names available.

I don’t suppose I have heard these (1962–63) recordings for 30 or more years, and revisiting old pleasures can be a disappointing experience. My youthful enthusiasm anointed Serkin as the ultimate keeper of Beethoven’s flame and relegated Rubinstein to the category of a good show. Time and experience tempered these judgments, as they must, and hearing Rubinstein live several times certainly gave nuance to what a “good show” ought to be. I think what finally did it was letting myself hear Rubinstein’s astonishing sense of line and delicacy of touch, which drew rather than propelled us through even the well-known bars of the “Moonlight” Sonata. I have always admired the way his playing makes each note suggest there is an obvious following one that will appear in its due course. Above all, in his playing there is the sense of the sheer pleasure he takes in it. By this I do not mean he is self-indulgent or willful or careless. On the contrary. Though I recall him as a good showman and though there was the occasional fluff, I always had the sense that when he sat down at the piano, Beethoven came first.

The sonatas here are the “warhorses” of the repertoire, of course, and there is good reason for that: they are sturdy stuff. But how many actually play the triplets of the first movement of No. 14 “with a most delicate touch,” as Beethoven asks of the whole movement, and make them go somewhere? How many can? Rubinstein does so and uses that to create an urgency only released by the arrival of the tune in m. 10, a melody, in turn, urged toward its resolution in m. 22. What sets Rubinstein apart for me is that he does this not by driving us through the music but by drawing us along with it: this is not Bach à la Beethoven. This is not to say that Rubinstein is all delicacy: subtlety need not be understated, nor passion overplayed. There is fire enough when called for, as in the last movement of the “Moonlight” Sonata, for example. In 29/6, James Reel called this playing “poetic,” and we have need of such poetry today.

FANFARE: Alan Swanson Reviewing earlier release

The ‘My First’ album series from Naxos is the ideal springboard for a lifelong journey through classical music. Each selection is carefully tailored for younger listeners and includes famous tracks as well as unexpected gems. The booklet is full of information on every piece of music. Unique and imaginative, these CDs will open a door to a wonderful world that children and parents can discover together.

An orchestra has lots of different instruments producing lots of different sounds. Whether they’re playing on their own or all at the same time, it can be a tremendously exciting experience to listen to them. From Wagner’s grand ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ to Tchaikovsky’s gentle ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’, you can hear on this album how the character of an orchestra changes all the time!

This programme is probably catchy enough to get the young listener off to an enthusiastic start.

This is one of a batch of CDs in the Naxos 'My First Album' series which founder Klaus Heymann declares "one of our most important projects with music for children". Each comrpises around 15 to 25 pieces of music selected as a gentle but inspiring introduction to the subject matter: in this case the violin repertory. Other volumes showcase Tchaikovsky, the lullaby, ballet, ‘classical music’ and so on. Virtually all the music consists of single movements drawn from larger works, with the average timing here just under the five-minute mark.
 
The CD booklets are attractively designed with youngsters in mind, with a fairy-tale-style pencil/pastel drawing on the cover and many smaller colourful ones on every page - violins feature prominently in this volume. Inside, after a brief introduction to the subject - "The violin is one of the most popular instruments the world over" and so on - each item on the disc is allotted a 'Keyword', ranging from the obvious to the odd, such as 'Thrilling', 'Dance', 'Goblins', 'Film' and 'Sting', and there follows a descriptive/explanatory paragraph, in straightforward language that should be intelligible to children as young as five or six, and unpatronising up to about ten or eleven. The texts enlarge on some of the things going on in the music, either as heard in the instruments or, if the work is programmatic, in the story itself, generally with a mention of the mood of the piece and usually alerting the child to some detail or other.
 
The blurb states that the booklet "is full of information on every piece of music", but that is a bit of an exaggeration. For a start, only the composer's surname is given in the main text, whereas first names - likely to be of interest to younger children - and dates of birth and death are relegated to the small print at the back of the booklet. Unfortunately, there is not even the most cursory of biographical note on any of the composers - this seems an odd omission when the texts talk freely about them as if they were old friends to the reader. Such detail is certainly more relevant than the titles in their original languages, such as 'Danza Española' or 'Souvenir d'un Lieu Cher' - only some of which have in any case been supplied.
 
For an important project, there is some surprising inconsistency or rashness in the language used in the notes. It is no good a child knowing that "Carmen is the world's most famous opera" or that a cor anglais "sounds like a dark oboe" if (s)he has no idea what an opera is or an oboe sounds like. "Can you hear the birds fluttering on the violin?" is likely to be understood literally by younger children. To describe the cimbalom as an instrument that "sounds a bit like a very old piano" is facile. The remark that "Schindler's List [...] is about the story of the Jews in World War II" is crass, inaccurate and semi-literate. As for that film's title theme - "incredibly sad music"? Nostalgic, touching, introspective - but surely not "incredibly sad", except perhaps for those who have seen the film.
 
The back of the booklet is the place to go for details of performers, rightly judged this time to be of little importance to nascent listeners, but a necessary reference for parents wishing to delve further into the music, whether on their child's behalf or perhaps - why not - for themselves. Yet the recordings drawn on for these compilations are not really the best ones to look out for, nor even the cheapest anymore. For the first batch of discs at least Naxos have drawn widely on their back catalogue bargain basement, meaning that performances tend to be rarely more than fair-to-middling, whilst the recordings themselves, some over twenty years old, can show their age in their thin or tinny quality, always most noticeable in the orchestral tracks.
 
That said, this CD is the best of the bunch so far - most of the performances are perfectly serviceable and the chamber recordings, of which there are many on this album, sound decidedly less lossy. Moreover, it is also true that the intended audiences are neither hardcore audiophiles nor zealous collectors but ordinary children, who will probably not notice anyway! Still, there seems no obvious reason why Naxos did not use newer, better recordings across the board.

Asking a six-year-old to sit through seventy-five minutes of any music is a tall order. Even a few minutes of less immediate material might induce premature boredom, in which case other or at least shorter Mozart and Beethoven might have been included instead, and a different Tchaikovsky melody. In smaller servings, this programme is probably catchy enough to get the young listener off to an enthusiastic start, yet it is difficult to discount the idea that those selecting the music and writing the notes could have thought a bit harder.
 
-- Byzantion, MusicWeb International

A delightfully colorful introduction to classical music, aimed to fire the imagination of young children aged 5-7 years! Readers are asked to think about the different places in which we might hear music, whether it is in a concert hall, or just on television. They are then introduced to a selection of famous composers including Mozart and Beethoven, and learn about each of the musical instrument families, from woodwind to percussion. Throughout the book children are referred to the accompanying CD so that they can hear examples as they read. Music on the CD includes The Magic Flute (Mozart), Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Williams), Carnival of the Animals (Saint-Saëns), The Planets (Holst), Petrushka (Stravinsky) and Peter and the Wolf (Prokofiev).

• A delightfully colourful introduction to the orchestra, aimed to fire the imagination of children aged 4–9 years. There is a special guide in the book: a little green creature called Tormod. He is a troll who has come all the way from the top of a mountain in Norway to discover music. As he searches for the music that will help him to find his way home, readers learn about the different instruments – what they look and sound like, and how they belong in different families. Throughout the book children are referred to the accompanying CD so that they can hear examples as they read. There is a musical quiz at the end, with multiple choice answers.

• 37 classical music tracks on the CD include: Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy, Mozart’s Overture to The Magic Flute, Tchaikovsky’s ‘Russian Dance’ from The Nutcracker, Copland’s Clarinet Concerto, Wagner’s Overture to Tannhäuser, Grieg’s ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’ from Peer Gynt – and many more

• An original, colorful and lively approach to learning about music.

• Follows the huge success of My First Classical Music Book and Meet the Instruments of the Orchestra! from Naxos.

• 37 classical music tracks on the CD.

• Every instrument is featured, with clear audio examples.

• 60 beautifully illustrated pages that children will love."

There are times when a disk drops through my letterbox and, after tearing the wrapping off the parcel, I look at the CD and despair, wondering do we really need yet another, in this case, recording of Debussy’s popular orchestral works? Then I play the disk and am pleasantly surprised. So it is with this disk. Märkl’s up against very stiff competition – Ansermet, Barbirolli, Boulez and Martinon to name but a few – but he’s his own man and gives us his own view of the music.

The Prélude is very well done. The solo flute is suitably sensuous, and is ably complemented by the solo oboe. Also, I have never heard the two solo violins, at the end, sound quite as winsome as they do here. The big tune in the middle is allowed to expand as it should and the delicate final pages, with slightly too reticent antique cymbals, is well controlled.

La Mer is almost as fine a performance. Starting very mysteriously, Märkl builds up the tension until the music bursts forth with animation. It’s a fine achievement. However, when the second part of the first movement begins, with cellos in eight parts, it’s too reticent and lacks the momentum required to push the music forwards. When Satie first heard this movement, From Dawn to Midday on the Sea, he quipped that he especially enjoyed the bit at a quarter to eleven. Strange as this may seem I think I know the moment he means – at four bars after rehearsal number 13 there is a static section where cor anglais and two solo cellos play a long breathed theme over sustained chords, it’s a magical moment which prepares us for the build up to the climactic final bars. Märkl makes these few bars quite magical and the calm is quite stunning. The coda is well built but the final three chords – which should beat us about the head with their power – fail to completely satisfy. The scherzo, Play of the Waves, is too heavy handed and the important colouristic glockenspiel part all but inaudible. The tension and suspense of the final movement, Dialogue between the Wind and the Sea, is very well done. The climaxes are well developed and the changes of mood and tempo very well handled. There is one strange moment – at rehearsal number 53 the horns play a triplet, followed, in the next bar, by two minim chords. In this recording we are treated to an extra triplet chord! I’ve played this moment several times, thinking my ears were deceiving me, but no, it’s there, an extra triplet beat. As it’s an exact repeat of what they played six bars earlier I’m mystified by what happens. Why is this extra chord there and what is the purpose? I doubt it’s an editing error so the conductor must have heard it as the horns played the passage. Curiouser and curiouser. Better news is that four bars after rehearsal number 59, under the big chords for winds and strings, Märkl plays the brass fanfares which, more often than not, are ignored by conductors as not being in a real Debussy style. Perhaps they are somewhat unsubtle for Debussy, and for this moment, but without them the music suddenly stops dead, it seems empty, something has to be played there and if these fanfares are all we have then we have to have them. It’s a good performance but it lacks that final insight, that ultimate injection of energy which makes the Hallé/Barbirolli recording so memorable and compelling.

Jeux is one of Debussy’s most elusive scores (it was his last orchestral work). It’s a ballet which concerns a lost tennis ball and a boy and two girls who look for it, as they play hide and seek, try to catch one another, quarrel and sulk without cause. Their games are interrupted when another tennis ball is mischievously thrown in by an unknown hand which surprises and alarms them and they disappear into the nocturnal depths of the garden. The story isn’t important. Debussy’s music is. It receives an excellent performance here – Märkl fully understands what is going on in the music and leads his players through the myriad tempo changes, keeps the ever changing orchestral colouring alive and generally makes clear music which so often sounds confused and muddled. You’d be hard pressed to find a finer performance on disk.

André Caplet was a close friend of Debussy and worked on the orchestration of the latter’s incidental music for Gabriele D’Annunzio’s play Le Martyre de Saint-Sébastien and the ballet La Boîte à joujou. He also made two, superb, reductions for two pianos, four hands and six hands, of La Mer, and made orchestral transcriptions of several piano works. Children’s Corner is a delightful six movement suite for solo piano; it’s light hearted, full of fun and several of the movements have become popular independently of the suite – The Little Shepherd and Golliwog’s Cake-walk in particular. Caplet’s orchestration has always struck me as being rather heavy handed – odd for so skilful an orchestrator – but here he has met his match with perfect piano music which does not lend itself to orchestration. Märkl does his best but, ultimately, it’s still too heavy and much of the humour is lost.

Apart from Jeux, which is superb, I would not put these performances of La Mer and the Prélude ahead of other recordings which are currently available - those conductors listed above - but they are very serviceable and if you’re on a tight budget, or just wanting to dip your toes in the Debussian water for the first time, then at the bargain price you’ll get much from these atmospheric readings.

-- Bob Briggs, MusicWeb International

Listen to the Naxos Podcast to learn more about this release

Mozart wrote his Violin Concertos in 1775 while still living in his home town of Salzburg and in service to Prince-Archbishop Hieronymus Colloredo. Mozart had already toured internationally and found his parochial environment restricting, but as ever he rose above circumstances to create sublime and thrillingly unconventional masterpieces filled with wit and elegant charm. The finely sustained melodic expression of each concerto’s slow center provides the perfect foil for inventive sparkle in outer movements that include a cheeky reference to the opera Il re pastore in K.216 to an exotic ‘Turkish’ moment in the finale of K. 219.

Reviews:

In the Fourth Concerto, there’s a lovely singing character to the central Andante, Kraggerud producing a variety of tone which matches the changing intensity of the line. Here, as in all the concertos, he plays his own cadenzas, which are stylish in the best sense, and show off his technique.

– BBC Music Magazine

The Norwegian Chamber Orchestra has something of a reputation for working harmoniously with guest soloist-directors, not least among them Leif Ove Andsnes in concertos by Mozart and Haydn. Their strength lies in the collaborative approach dictated by their modest dimensions and conductorless set-up. Those discs with Andsnes were conspicuously successful, both artistically and critically, and this new project with Henning Kraggerud is no less winning. While these are brisk, no-nonsense performances after the contemporary fashion, the thinking that underpins their shaping right from the very beginning makes these readings of the Third, Fourth and Fifth concertos worth returning to.

– Gramophone

A recording of Ludwig van Beethoven's "Ninth" is always a great event, especially because the symphony's final chorus, Schiller's "Ode to Joy", is understood around the world as a plea for peace and international understanding. It was no coincidence that the catchy melody to the text "Joy, beautiful spark of divinity" was chosen as the Hymn of the European Union. This recording of Beethoven's great choral symphony under the direction of Bernard Haitink and with excellent instrumental and vocal soloists is not only an outstanding interpretation of the work but also very much an event in itself -because these recordings document Haitink's last ever concerts with the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks. Only a few months after his two Munich concerts on February 21 and 22, 2019, the great Dutch conductor -who celebrated his 90thbirthday on March 4 -announced the end of his career.

Ornithology: The Best of Bird is a new compilation bringing together 11 cuts from legendary jazz saxophonist Charlie Parker. Designed as an introduction to this influential artist, it covers Bird's prime years between 1945 and 1953, with cuts including "Ko-Ko," "Billie's Bounce," and "Groovin' High". Included on the back of the newly designed sleeve is a new essay by GRAMMY® award winning writer Ashley Kahn.

2024 collection. Louis Armstrong made his first studio records in Richmond, Indiana 101 years ago, recording acoustically because microphones hadn't yet been invented. Microphones eventually allowed Armstrong to begin recording electrically to disc and, later, to tape in the mono and "hi-fi" eras. Beginning in the late 1950s, Armstrong began making records in revolutionary stereophonic sound. He had seen and conquered every trend in recording technology between 1923 and his death in 1971-and he continues to conquer them into the 21st century, over 50 years since he passed away. Today, with the advent of streaming and the resurgence of popularity in LPs, there is more music available to the public to listen to than at any previous time in history. Yet, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, people from around the world still choose to listen to Louis Armstrong, much more so than any other artist born at the turn of the 20th century. The question remains: Why? This new collection helps to provide answers.

Digitally remastered edition of this 1961 album from the Jazz pianist. Sunday at the Village Vanguard was recorded live on June 25, 1961 at the Village Vanguard in New York City over five recorded sessions (two matinee and three soiree). It is well remembered as the final performance by the Evans trio of the time, which included bassist Scott LaFaro and drummer Paul Motian. LaFaro was killed in a car accident ten days after the recording.

Expanding on the concepts of the surprise hit Time Out, this album is all at once darkly ruminative, melodic, dissonant and engaging! Includes Bluette; Unsquare Dance; Bru's Boogie Woogie; Blue Shadows in the Street; Far More Drums, and more.

Bizet's opera Carmen was first produced at the Opera-Comique in Paris in 1875. The French genre of opera-comique had arisen in the eighteenth century as a Gallic counterpart of the Italian opera buff, injecting an air of contemporary realism into operatic form. The success of operetta in the nineteenth century offered a challenge to the form, which retained the characteristic of the German Singspiel, spoken dialogue taking the place of the recitative of opera serial or French grand opera, but increasingly lacked power or conviction. Carmen, in it's original version with spoken dialogue, derived largely from Prosper Mérimée's novel on which the opera was based. Created something of a scandal, and opened the way to a new form of opera. While nineteenth century French audiences at the Opera-Comique might find in Micaela a recognizable character, Carmen, a vicious outcast from decent society, was not the ideal heroine for popular family entertainment.

ADAM Giselle • Pavel Klinichev, cond; Svetlana Lunkina ( Giselle ); Dmitry Gudanov ( Albrecht ); Maria Allash ( Myrtha ); Vitaly Biktimirov ( Hans ); Elena Bukanova ( Berthe ); Ekaterina Barykina ( Bathilde ); Alexey Loparevich ( Duke ); Vladislav Lantratov ( Wilfreed ); Chinara Alizade, Andrey Bolotin ( Peasants ); Bolshoi Ballet & O • BELAIR BAC074 (109: 00) Live: Moscow 01/2011


ADAM Giselle: highlights • Andrew Mogrelia, cond; Slovak RSO • NAXOS 8.572924 (61:07)


Giselle is one of the ballet characters that dancers relish, emblematic of the Romantic era, complete with mad scene yet requiring dancing of great purity for the second act. Svetlana Lunkina is one of the new crop of Bolshoi ballerinas equally at home in bravura roles at the same time as being a convincing Giselle or Sylphide. Dmitry Gudanov is a convincing hero, his youthful looks helping to define his character as an innocent, totally unaware of the chaos he has created. Maria Allash possesses the same romantic qualities as Lunkina, allied with a stern demeanor that makes her Myrtha a very steely character. Chinara Alizade and Andrey Bolotin dance the interpolated Peasant Pas de Deux with the requisite charm, while Vitaly Biktimirov’s lovelorn Hans (aka Hilarion) almost arouses our compassion. Pavel Klinichev and the Bolshoi Orchestra offer a straightforward reading. The credit “choreographic version by Yuri Grigorovich after choreography by Jean Coralli, Jules Perrot & Marius Petipa” is puzzling as this appears to be a standard version, other than a hastily choreographed court dance the first time the Duke and his followers arrive. Grigorovich’s only other contribution would appear to be some of the bizarre rhythmic accentuations that he favors.


The CD of orchestral highlights is well-enough performed by Andrew Mogrelia and the Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra, of particular interest for the music with hunting fanfares that are rarely heard at the start of act II before Myrtha’s entrance. But some of the tempi are unsuitable for the theater and may even jar listeners familiar with the work.


FANFARE: Joel Kasow