“The artist's first task is to forget himself.” This statement, bold in its time, has been ascribed to Eugène Ysaÿe, referred to as the “King of the Violin”, who as a composer and performer considerably contributed to the modernization of violin playing. In 1923, he was so deeply impressed by J. S. Bach’s Violin Sonata No. 1 in G minor, BWV 1001, as performed by Joseph Szigeti, that within a few hours (!) he sketched a set of six sonatas as a counterpart to Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas, BWV 1001-1006. Ysaÿe dedicated each of his sonatas to a superb contemporary violinist, tailoring it to his style. Technically reaching the limits of the instrument, the pieces placed enormous requirements on the dedicatees (Szigeti, Thibaud, Enescu, Kreisler, Crickboom, Quiroga), yet they remain challenging for the violinists of today.

One hundred years after Ysaÿe created the set of six sonatas, this formidable task has been undertaken by the outstanding young Czech virtuoso Daniel Matejča, the winner of the Eurovision Young Musicians competition (2022), Telemann Violin Competition (Poznan 2020) and Jugend musiziert (Halle 2019). Matejča studied with such distinguished violinists as Boris Belkin and Christian Tetzlaff, and, after collaborating to acclaim with the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra, has been invited to perform with other renowned orchestras. Supraphon has shifted the 100-year-old concept to the 21st century and commissioned a composition that would reflect Ysaÿe’s sonatas, as well as young violinists’ musicality and virtuosity. Jana Vöröšová’s Obsession II is both answer and challenge. Ysaÿe’s sonatas – a cherished challenge for the young virtuoso Daniel Matejča.

Lukáš Vondráček and Sergei Rachmaninoff. Scarcely do we encounter a connection between a musician and a composer so close, strong and energizing. When, at the age of 15, Vondráček was invited by Vladimir Ashkenazy and the Czech Philharmonic to perform Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 1, he had garnered international acclaim at numerous concerts and competitions. Just a year later, the pianist toured the USA and appeared at Carnegie Hall. At the age of 29, he triumphed at the Queen Elisabeth Competition in Brussels (2016), performing Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 3, conducted by Marin Alsop. Love at first listen, Rachmaninoff has become his flagship composer: “Besides affording the opportunity to showcase one’s technique, his music impresses by being contrastive and having an immense dynamic range ... What more could a person keen on tone color wish? It’s sheer beauty!”

Lukáš Vondráček has been invited to perform Rachmaninoff’s concertos by the most prominent orchestras and conductors worldwide. The present album is one of the few sweet fruits of the Covid pandemic, which cleared the soloist’s otherwise jam-packed diary and afforded him peaceful time for recording. The booklet contains an interview with Lukáš Vondráček, within which he provides an account of his ample experience of and great affinity to Rachmaninoff. Yet the most powerful confession is the recording itself, made with the superb Prague Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Tomáš Brauner, capturing performances rendering every detail, teeming with emotion, colour and contrast. Sheer beauty indeed! Rachmaninoff in Lukáš Vondráček’s hands. A lavish musical feast.

Sir Charles Mackerras’s accounts of Symphonies Nos. 8 and 9 are torrentially vivid, as performed by the superb Prague Symphony Orchestra under his baton.

Gustav Mahler’s cycle Des Knaben Wunderhorn features on innumerable recordings – so why yet another one? Because it is … entirely different. Peter Schöne, a baritone with an immense sense for songs, the winner of prestigious international competitions (Franz Schubert Kammermusikwettbewerb in Graz, ARD in Munich), accepted the invitation to work with PhilHarmonia Octet Prague, whose members have performed with leading European orchestras (Czech Philharmonic, Berliner Philharmoniker, WDR Sinfonieorchester Köln). After presenting arrangements of Modest Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition and a suite from Leoš Janácek’s opera From the House of the Dead, the Mahler project currently represents the apex of the Czech wind ensemble’s endeavour to extend their repertoire and make it even more intriguing. Even though essentially intimate, Mahler’s songs have often been closely linked with symphonies, which also applies to the Des Knaben Wunderhorn collection. Of the 24 pieces, PhilHarmonia Octet Prague have recorded ten, those best suited to a wind ensemble. Opting for wind instruments makes sense, given that in his childhood Mahler’s musical vocabulary was formed in part by listening frequently to the Jihlava military band. His music is interwoven with military motifs, with wind instruments being afforded a prominent position. The chamber arrangements on the new album show an interesting path between the piano and orchestral versions, and allow for highlighting the colourfulness and intimacy of Mahler’s songs. Mahler’s songs, extraordinarily colourful and intimate

What do Bedřich Smetana and Miloslav Kabeláč have in common that they feature on Jan Bartoš’s new album? Both of them were distinguished composers, conductors and pianists. Both of them created modern and timeless music for piano, which, however, remains overshadowed by their symphonic works. Smetana was writing his cycle Rêves (1875) at the time when he was completing Šárka and From Bohemian Fields and Groves, perhaps the most remarkable of the six tone poems comprising Má vlast.

Kabeláč was composing the two piano cycles, Op. 30 and Op. 38, while also focusing on Mystery of Time, his symphonic magnum opus, which in recent years has been discovered by some of the world’s most renowned orchestras, in Berlin, Cleveland, London and elsewhere. Kabeláč’s life serves as a prime example of the fates that befell the Czech humanists, artists and intellectuals from the 1930s to the 1970s amid the turbulent historical events. While his music garnered success worldwide, he was silenced by the Communist regime in his homeland. Kabelác’s style evolved from complex to simple, thus in many respects ushering in the accession of post-modernism and minimalism. As attested to by his cycle Motifs from Exotic Lands, he was boldly inspired by non-European traditional music. Following on from critically acclaimed Leoš Janáček (Gramophone Editor’s Choice) and Vítězslav Novák albums, Jan Bartoš is now presenting Kabeláč and Smetana in live recordings made at the Dvořák Hall of Prague’s Rudolfinum. Jan Bartoš presents to the world little-known Czech piano gems.

“And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.” John the Evangelist’s words inspired the title of a remarkable Christmas cycle, rendering its profound message, diverting our attention from glittering decorations and refocusing on the very reason for celebrating Christmas – commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ. Many a time with a breath-taking directness, traditional carols clearly capture the poetics of the Nativity and the story of those who were there. Such carols were precisely that which resounded in the mind of Jirí Slavík, a seasoned young jazz musician and composer with a penchant for folklore, in the spring of 2020, when a pandemic locked us down in our homes. “No one had the slightest inkling as to when we would again be able to play and sing together.” The songs immediately became a source of hope, hope that light would begin shining soon. The carols acquired their shape, sometimes soft and intimate, at others bolder, symphonically opulent. Interludes and songs inspired by the Biblical story came to life, ultimately engendering a whole cycle. From the beginning, it was intended to be performed by Ondráš – an orchestra and choir specialising in folk music, yet willing to cross the genre’s borders. As interpreted by the singers and instrumentalists, the Bohemian and Moravian carols sound absolutely natural, be they presented in the usual “dulcimer” texture, or in unconventional colour arrangements. This type of music – just like any music retelling a powerful story – requires quietening. When we let tranquillity take over our minds, we may touch upon a secret. The Nativity story in Bohemian and Moravian Christmas carols

Christmas and its singular atmosphere have inspired numerous musicians and composers over the centuries. Following several “conventional” albums and the crossover project “Next Horizon”, the oboist Vilém Veverka too has succumbed to the irresistible Yuletide charm and decided to present “his Christmas”. The album’s leitmotif is Antonio Vivaldi’s L'inverno (most likely performed on the oboe for the very first time!). In addition to pieces by other Baroque Masters (Bach, Handel), it includes a musical account of Argentinean tango-flavoured winter (Ástor Piazzolla), as well as the songs Stille Nacht, Adeste fideles and Chtíc, aby spal (Wanting Him to Sleep), without which one would be hard pressed to imagine Christmas. The album is adorned by Patricia Janecková’s gracious voice, and it features two very special guests, the harpist Katerina Englichová and the soprano Adéla Rehorová. As in the case of other Veverka albums, Martin Hybler has contributed with arrangements, and the soloist is accompanied by the same musicians he was on the previous project, “Next Horizon”. Owing to its encompassing a wide range of genres and neoclassical arrangement, the album will undoubtedly delight not only virtuoso oboe lovers, but also many other listeners. Vilém Veverka’s Christmas – virtuoso, sparkling, colorful ...

Czech Ensemble Baroque’s first recording dedicated to František Ignác Antonín Tuma (Requiem, Miserere) confirmed his firm position among Europe’s major late-Baroque composers. A pupil of the renowned Viennese master J. J. Fux, his music is characterized by immaculate refined counterpoint, yet he also embraced and brought to bear elements of the incipient Galant style. Dating from three different phases of his life, the three pieces featured on the present album map Tuma’s artistic development. The grandiose Missa Veni Pater Pauperum, written in 1736 for the Schottenstift, a Benedictine abbey in Vienna, is from the time when he served Count Franz Ferdinand Kinsky, who had provided him with a thorough education. The festive 1745 Te Deum, scored for a similarly extensive ensemble, was composed for the Stift Wilhering, a Cistercian monastery in Upper Austria, which performed it on multiple occasions within the celebrations of the Feast of Corpus Christi.

As regards the Sinfonia ex C, Tuma most likely conceived it towards the end of his days, when he lived in seclusion at the Premonstratensian monastery in Geras, Lower Austria. The three festive pieces, recorded for the very first time, attest to Tuma’s being a composer richly deserving of special attention. Tuma’s music in festive colors – landmark premiere recordings

Some extraordinarily talented figures’ lives and work impressed and significantly influenced their contemporaries, yet their imprint was later effaced just like a footprint by the tide. And many years later, we are thus astonished by the rediscovery of such forgotten legacies. Josef Beneš (Joseph Benesch) was primarily referred to in period sources as a virtuoso violinist and distinguished teacher. Born in Batelov (Battelau), a village on the borderline between Bohemia and Moravia, from the age of 19 he lived in Vienna and Ljubljana, and gave concerts across Europe. During his time in Italy, he familiarized himself with Niccolò Paganini and Alessandro Rolla. He held prestigious posts (music director of the Philharmonic Society in Ljubljana, professor of the Music Academy in Vienna, first concertmaster of the Hoftheater).

Few of his works have survived, with the majority of them being music Beneš wrote for his own solo performances. His final pieces, two string quartets (published in 1865 and 1871, respectively) date from the period when he no longer pursued a career as a soloist, yet all the parts require very dexterous players. Now, 150 years later, the Martinu Quartet, who have rediscovered a number of overlooked works of music, are evidently the first to perform the quartets, which definitely do not deserve to fall into oblivion.

If we were to travel four centuries back in time, when strolling through Prague streets we would most likely hear from many a house, palace or church some engrossing and catchy songs by Adam Václav Michna, one of the greatest Czech Baroque poets. His Christmas songs have become widely known and highly popular. Lesser known is Michna’s Czech Marian Music, drawing the listener into the world of poetic hymns praising the Virgin Mary, which formed a significant part of 17th-century Czech music. The album juxtaposes Michna’s pieces with works by Alessandro Grandi, Vincenzo Albrici, Heinrich Ignaz Franz Biber and Samuel Capricornus, all of them composers who were often in close contact with the Jesuits and drew inspiration from the spirituality practiced by the Society of Jesus. Their lives and work were closely linked with the Kingdom of Bohemia, where their music was regularly played. The seemingly simple songs can only be performed in their entire profundity and beauty by excellent musicians. The album has been recorded by internationally renowned artists, who on numerous occasions have demonstrated their extraordinary qualities when performing a most complex music by J. D. Zelenka and J. S. Bach – the soprano Hana Blažíková and Collegium Marianum. We would be hard pressed indeed to imagine more superlative performers of Michna’s music. Czech Marian Music – the previously overlooked grace and beauty of 17th–century hymns.

With his life and work, Miloslav Kabeláč, one of the greatest 20th-century Czech symphonists, foregrounded a highly topical theme: the necessity of not yielding to evil and commitment to humanistic ideals. He displayed both during the Nazi occupation and the time of Communist dictatorship in Czechoslovakia. Within the toughest totalitarianism Kabeláč escaped the ideological grip of the authoritarian regime by looking up to the star-studded sky. In The Mystery of Time, an underestimated gem of 20th-century European symphonic music, he expresses his emotional trepidation of and fascination with space, the solid order that governs the cosmos. Amidst the easing of the political oppression in Czechoslovakia in the 1960s, Kabeláč garnered international esteem and created two major pieces: Hamlet Improvisation (marking the 400th anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birth) and Reflections. In the wake of the Soviet invasion in August 1968, the Communist government again tightened the screws, striving to silence the open-minded composer’s music at home and abroad alike.

Kabeláč completed Metamorphoses II just a few weeks before his death. His final work is inspired by the oldest Czech hymn Hospodine, pomiluj ny (Lord, Have Mercy On Us), symbolically ending with the prayer Kyrie eleison, repeated three times. The Mystery of Time album links up to the acclaimed recording of Kabeláč’s symphonies (Supraphon, 2016), thus supplementing the artist’s remarkable discography with other jewels. Mystery of Time – an underestimated gem of 20th-century European symphonic music.

Reinhard Goebel, an esteemed Baroque music connoisseur, ranks Zelenka among the five best composers of the first half of the 18th century. The cycle of six sonatas for two oboes, bassoon and continuo serves to prove that his assertion is far from being mere hyperbole, that it is a justified opinion worthy of being giving serious thought. Although for many years Zelenka performed all the duties of Kapellmeister and court composer of the Dresden Hofkapelle, he did not gain the appraisal he deserved. Zelenka’s sonatas are among his “free” works, which he wrote urged by innermost needs, above and beyond his official commitments. The pieces reach the very limits of musical possibilities – both as regards placing high technical requirements on the performers and the compositional methods and means of expression applied, including the striking architecture of the cycle as a whole. The result is magnificent and fascinating indeed; owing to its complexity and timelessness, the sonatas may perhaps only be compared with J. S. Bach’s six cello suites. And when these gems are undertaken by musicians as open-minded and of such superlative quality as members of the Berliner Philhamoniker, the listener can look forward to a great feast. The present recording is extraordinary due to the combination of the technical facilities of modern instruments and the profound insight into Baroque performance.

Splendid, incisive, rhythmically well sprung.



ZELENKA Immisit Dominus pesilentiam, ZWV 58. Attendite et videte, ZWV 59. Deus Dux Fortissime, ZWV 60 • Jana Semerádová, cond; Hana Blažíková (sop); David Erler (alt); Tobias Hunger (ten); Tomá? Král (bs); Collegium Marianum (period instruments) • SUPRAPHON 4068 (65:33 Text and Translation)


There are many smaller subgenres of sacred music that are often little explored. One of these is the sepolcro , a short oratorio-like work that is meant to be performed after the Good Friday services in Roman Catholic regions. The similarity in purpose with the Lutheran cantata is clear, since they often incorporate responses and reflections on the Liturgy, and because of this were particularly favored by the Jesuits as a means of reinforcing the seasonal message. Common enough during the Baroque and early-Classical periods, these works have been largely ignored, probably because they do not easily fit any particular category. They are mostly in Latin (though German and Italian sepolcri do exist), and the poetic texts most often reflect contemplations of horror and disaster. The first of this trio, for instance, talks about a plague that slaughtered 70,000 people, hardly a subject guaranteed to evoke pleasant visions.


Zelenka’s three works were composed in a five-year period beginning in 1709 for the Clementinium in Prague, his hometown. Each of these is relatively compact, too small to be labeled an oratorio but perhaps more expansive than your normal cantata. There are usually three or four choruses, often with extensive and quite intricate counterpoint, but the usual recitatives and arias are not always arranged in a conspicuous order. Indeed, in the Immisit Dominus the crux of the work revolves around two accompanied recitatives with soft string suspensions, and in the case of the last, it devolves into a lilting duet between the alto and bass soloists, hardly something that is common during the period. The arias follow each other in sequence and without recitative, so that the music is more continuous than the conventional cantatas of the period. The rich suspensions of the “Recordare, Domine” and the multilevel continuo and oboe punctuations of the aria “Omnes gentes” in the Attendite bring to mind the clockwork rhythms of Purcell, though the vocal line that floats above it is positively Handelian. There are two back-to-back duets in the Deus dux Fortissime , the first of which Zelenka plays off the two soloists in imitation, while in the next, the soprano and alto blend seamlessly with a deliberate marching continuo. The choruses are, as noted, mostly strict counterpoint, and the fugues that the composer uses in “Adoramus te, Christe” of the second work and the final massive “Da robut, fer auxilium” of the last are every bit as complex and intricate as anything written by Johann Sebastian Bach. In the chorus that precedes the latter, however, the militant “Bella premunt hostilia,” the homophonic voices make a bold pronouncement that stops dead in order for a lone cantus firmus to appear as if out of nowhere. The echoes of Carissimi’s oratorios are clearly in the background here, and the effect is rather audacious.


The Collegium Marianum is a Czech group that includes a chorus of eight voices, out of which the four soloists emerge. This gives the sound a wonderful clarity, though of course it reveals any slight mistakes. I will say that I do not find any, and whether or not the recording placement was changed, it sounds as if the choir is much larger. All four of the soloists have a good grasp of the stylistic nuances that bring this to life. Bass Tomá? Král, for instance, has that light, almost baritone quality to his voice that seems just right for this sort of music: flexible enough to handle the ornamentation of the “Deus regit nos” in the second work, but also easily blending with his colleagues, such as with the rich alto (or rather countertenor) voice of David Erler in the “Clamate, guttae sanguinis” of the first. The performance by the ensemble seems to be larger than their one-on-a-part actual displacement, and the way this is done, with clear direction by the conductor, allows for it to blend with the singers, no matter if with strings or when the various woodwinds are added. In short, this is a wonderful disc, dramatic and focused, musically adroit, and something that may make my Want List for the year.


FANFARE: Bertil van Boer


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We are living in fortunate times for the lover of Zelenka; not the zenith, yet, I suspect, but if we are to keep getting discs such as this one and Accent’s recent recording of Officium deferntorum and the Requiem in D, then not far short. I mention the Accent disc in particular, not simply because it’s a revelation — astonishing, really — but also because two of the singers reappear in this disc; feisty soprano Hana Blažiková and the smooth, evenly produced bass of Tomáš Král. One of Supraphon’s recent secret weapons, Collegium Marianum directed as ever by Jana Semerádová, is on hand, and to complete the good news the recording venue is, again, the Church of Virgin Mary under the Chain, in Prague, which offers a tremendous acoustic, one that Supraphon’s engineers know well.
 
Should one add more? What about that all three of these Cantatas for Holy Sepulchre are heard in their first ever recordings or that the performances are, again, outstandingly good? It’s true that these three works are relatively early, dating between 1709 and 1716 — which is to say between Zelenka’s thirtieth and thirty seventh birthdays. But they do not lack for finesse, nor do they lack affecting features such as to warrant the closest interest.
 
Immisit Dominus pestilentiam is the earliest of the three, a compact twenty minute cantata finely balanced between arias, choruses and recitative. It offers numerous opportunities for instrumental felicity; try the absolutely lovely chalumeau playing - it’s by Igor Františák, and he should be name checked - which is almost folk-like in its address. The string staccatos are appropriately brusque in the Clamate, guttae sanguinis. Male alto David Erler has a most pleasing voice but Blažiková, always an incisive, powerful but never strident singer, shades the honours. Attendite et videte possesses great amplitude and breadth, once again illuminated by many subtle accompanying touches — note here, for instance, the bassoon line in Deus regit nos as it intertwines with the strings. Král sings especially well in this movement. Confidence and subtlety mark out these performances and when the organ and double bass are as well balanced as they are in the Deus dux fortissime we are assured of another splendid performance. The chorus is incisive, rhythmically well sprung. In fact everything about this disc is of the highest class.

This ‘Music from Eighteenth Century Prague’ series is shaping up to be in the very best tradition of this label. I recall their gorgeous LPs with vivid colour art work and pockets for booklet notes, which restored performances of baroque music conducted by the likes of Talich and Ancerl amongst more contemporary practitioners.
 
I’m keen to hear more from Jana Semerádová and her forces.
 
-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

At times startling and innovative sacred choral works by the most important Bohemian composer of the Baroque era, Jan Dismas Zelenka. Digitally recorded on 7 and 8 December, 2011 in the Church of St. Simon and St. Jude in Prague. Album includes booklet notes in English, French, German and Czech with lyrics sung in Latin and translated in four languages.

Here's a case where the music so completely and satisfyingly transcends the texts, that we can thoroughly enjoy the proceedings without really having to know what all the singing and playing is about. The texts--the singing is in Latin--are in the most serious, heavily ornate, flowery Baroque poetic style, and are concerned with religious devoutness and allegorical representations of traits such as "Fortitude", "Suspicion", "Dignity", "Faith", and "Godliness". Even the work's title, which translates "Under the olive tree of peace and the palm tree of virtue the Crown of Bohemia splendidly shines before the whole world", tells you something of the solemnity and high importance of the occasion for which it was written: the 1723 coronation ceremony in Prague of Emperor Charles VI and his wife Elisabeth Christine. Zelenka's music, which amounts to a kind of oratorio-type structure--orchestral introductions and interludes, choruses, arias, and various other solo/choral combinations--actually was designed to accompany a dramatic presentation that also included dances and parts for actors. Fortunately for us today, we can sit back and just listen to some of the more delightful--sometimes breathtakingly powerful--music from this period that didn't come from the pen of Bach or Handel. Even Zelenka was impressed enough with some of the work's movements that he reused them in adapted form the following year for sections of his Te Deum.

The opening Sinfonia is a brilliant enough piece all on its own, but the chorus that immediately follows takes us to yet another level of excitement, setting a sumptuously decorated stage for what is to come. Although there's a substantial amount of music here, no one section stays too long, and the arias show care for musical beauty well beyond anything suggested by the texts. And there's nothing pale or simple in the writing either, whether for instruments or voices: much of it, especially the vocal solos, requires performers of considerable accomplishment, even virtuosity. The opening chorus is quite a tour de force, and in this performance we're treated to the lovely sound and impeccable technique of the boys' and men's voices of the Czech choir Boni Pueri. That this is a Czech production mirrors its original performance in Prague's Jesuit Clementinum, which not only involved native Czech singers and actors, but also was conducted by the Czech-born Zelenka. The orchestral writing, which includes such ceremonial staples as trumpets and timpani, used to great effect, is bright-spirited and masterfully constructed to hold our interest and maintain dramatic momentum. The soloists are generally very good and there's some really terrific interaction in duets and in dialogs with the chorus. The sound is full-bodied and sufficiently detailed to give immediate presence to all the performers while preserving appropriate balances. Anyone who enjoys large-scale Baroque choral/orchestral music will love this unusual and musically engaging work--another gem in the crown of a composer that's finally getting just recognition.

--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
Reviewing original release, Supraphon 3520