JARMILA NOVOTNÁ OPERA RECITAL • Jarmila Novotná (s); Ezio Pinza (bs); 3 Raoul Jobin (t); 5 Jan Peerce (t); 7 James Melton (t); 9 Martial Singher (bar); 11 Arturo Toscanini 1 , Paul Breisach 2 , Bruno Walter 3 , Frieder Weissmann 4 , Thomas Beecham 5 , Morton Gould 6 , Ettore Panizza 7 , Maurice Abravanel 8 , Frank Black 9 , Alfred Wallenstein 10 , Donald Voorhees 11 , Wilfred Pelletier 12 , cond; Gibner King (pn); 13 Vienna PO; 1 Metropolitan Op O; 14 Victor O; 4 Bell Telephone O 11 • SUPRAPHON 4158, mono (79:02) Live, film, and studio performances 1930–1956


ROSSINI Il barbiere di Siviglia: Una voce poco fà (in Czech). MOZART 1 Die Zauberflöte: Ach, ich fühls. 2,14 Le nozze di Figaro: Non so più; Voi che sapete. 3,14 Don Giovanni: Ah, che mi dice mai; Fuggi il traditor. OFFENBACH Les contes d’Hoffmann: Les oiseaux dans la charmille (in German); 4 Belle nuit,ô nuit d’amour; 4 Elle a fui; 5,14 Voyez l’étrange fantasie … C’est un chanson d’amour. VERDI La traviata: 6 Tra voi; 7,14 Ah, fors’ è lui … Sempre libera; 8 Addio del passato; 9 Parigi, o cara. PUCCINI La bohème: 10 Si mi chiamano Mimi; 11 Mimi! Speravo di trovarvi qui. 12,14 Tosca: Vissi d’arte. SMETANA 10 The Bartered Bride: Ten lásky sen. 4 The Kiss: Hajej, m?j andílku. 13 Rusalka: O lovely moon


Despite a long, distinguished career of 30 years, 16 of them at the Metropolitan Opera, Jarmila Novotná is known largely to record collectors and students of archive performances. Her one and only intersection with popular culture was an appearance in the M-G-M film The Great Caruso (1951), whose big star was tenor Mario Lanza. In Germany, where she appeared for several years and made some fairly popular films ( Fire in the Opera, The Beggar Student, The Bartered Bride, Song of the Lark ), she is perhaps better known, and in her native (now former) Czechoslovakia she is considered to be on a par with Emmy Destinn and Maria Jeritza. In her early years, when she was a high soubrette, the voice was ear-ravishing lovely, even sparkling in sound, but by 1937 her tone was becoming a bit heavier and her upper range less easy; thus, by the time she made her Met debut (January 5, 1940, in La bohème opposite Jussi Björling), the voice had become darker. But she was an excellent stage actress, an outstanding musician (she had already sung such offbeat works as Ravel’s L’heure espagnole, at Otto Klemperer’s Kroll Opera, as well as Krenek’s The Life of Orestes, and Schoenberg’s Die glückliche Hand ) and a fine stage actress. She was a favorite soprano of such conductors as Zemlinsky, Erich Kleiber, Walter, Szell, and Toscanini.


One thing you can’t miss from the opening track—Rossini’s “Una voce poco fà” sung in Czech—was that she sang with her high range too “open,” much the same way Bidú Sayão did in her “coloratura” years, and with similar results; both had to come down to the lyric range because they blew it out. You can hear the difference immediately after the Rossini aria, in her the “Ach, ich fühls” from Die Zauberflöte in Toscanini’s ill-fated Salzburg performance (ill-fated due to the overloud singing of his Tamino, Helge Rosawenge, and the botched, out-of-key performance of the Queen of the Night, Julie Osvath). Yet you can also hear her phrasing becoming tighter and more musical, less scatter-gun in her approach to producing notes. To modern ears, more used to mezzo Cherubinos, Novotná sounds rather light and very girlish (even Christine Schäfer, one of our few soprano Cherubinos nowadays, sings the music with a darker tone than this), but once again she is very fine, particularly in “Voi, che sapete.” Despite a slightly slower tempo than we are used to today, this performance could pass muster in our modern opera houses. But one does sense a loss from her earlier voice with its bright, open tone: The sound, now slightly covered, is no longer as distinctive. In Donna Elvira’s “Ah, che mi dice mai,” the voice no longer has any “bite” up top, despite splendid singing (and Bruno Walter’s tempo is much too fast for this music), but both soprano and conductor sound better in “Fuggi il traditor.”


The three excerpts from Les contes d’Hoffmann point out the differences well: the very early (1930) “Doll song” in German sung with light, pointed tone (and good trills), the “Barcarolle” and “Elle a fui” (now in French, from 1945) sounding more covered and bit muddy in tone, as is the 1944 duet with Jobin (a rather plain, ugly-sounding vocalist who was the Met’s preferred French tenor of the 1940s). By this point in her career, Novotná was also breaking her phrases a bit more frequently for breath than she had just a few years earlier.


The four Traviata excerpts, ranging in date from 1940 (“Addio del passato”) to 1950 (“Parigi, o cara”) are interesting in showing how Novotná built a character up throughout an opera. She was not the equal of an Olivero or Mattila, but in some moments she was interesting in a general way. In “Ah, fors’ e lui” she sings the descending opening line with the rests between the notes, the way Verdi wrote them, but after the tenor’s lines in “Sempre libera” she makes a mistake, correcting herself quickly. There is, however, no feeling in her “Addio del passato,” which is also conducted much too quickly by Abravanel. The voice is so dark by the time of her 1950 “Parigi, o cara” that it is almost unrecognizable as the same singer, and there is no feeling of loss or desperation in her voice. She might as well have been singing about her missing dog. (To be fair, however, her partner in this duet, James Melton, sings with no expression whatever.) There is a bit of expression in her “Si, mi chiamano Mimì” from 1943, but again, it’s just a sort of “generic Puccini sound,” nothing particularly personal in her tone or expression. The Mimì-Marcello duet with Singher (a rather gray-sounding and uninteresting baritone who was the Met’s French baritone counterpart to Jobin) shows, once again, Novotná’s generic, all-purpose acting style.


Although Novotná does not give out any more emotionally in the Czech operatic excerpts, the voice does sound more comfortable than in Italian or French. Hers is one of the better performances I’ve heard of the Bartered Bride aria, and the best I’ve heard of the aria from The Kiss. But I still have to rate Elfride Trötschel, Zinka Milanov, and Renée Fleming better in “O lovely moon” from Rusalka. (Novotná’s performance is also cut, missing one section.)


All in all this is an interesting cross-section of performances by a now-neglected soprano, though I’d much rather have had one of her excerpts from the German Bartered Bride film in place of the Tosca aria.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

BENDA Violin Concerto in D. PICHL Violin Concerto, op. 3/1. Vranick´Y Violin Concerto in C & • Gabriela Demeterová (vn); Milan Laj?ik, cond; Prague CO • SUPRAPHON 3977 (66:30)


& Video: Vranick´Y Violin Concerto in C: Allegro giusto


František Benda (1709–1786), Václav Pichl (1741–1805), and Antonín Vranický (1761–1820) represent three generations of Czech violinist-composers who created a non-Italian, non-French literature for the instrument. Even the earliest, Benda, explored in his Concerto in D Major (according to Lucie Ma?ourová’s notes, one of 15) the top of the violin’s register in passagework that sounds now as patterned as that in the first movement of Bach’s Concerto in E Major, and now as brilliant as Locatelli’s. The aria-like slow movement offers Gabriela Demeterová an opportunity to display her lyrical powers as effectively as the first movement showcased her technical polish. Like the first movement, the finale combines showy virtuosic passages with suave cantabile episodes.


Pichl approximates the coming Viennese style in writing for the violin that might have been drawn from Mozart’s concertos—not only the opening movement’s arpeggiated figurations, but the second movement’s smooth elegance, and the courtly turns of the finale (Rondo: Tempo di menuetto) as well. Demeterová plays throughout with the easy grace of a compatriot comfortable with the period’s style.


Vranický’s Concerto begins with a bumptious introduction that suggests rough-and-tumble, but the solo’s entrance reveals an advance both stylistic and technical beyond the benchmarks set by the works of the other two composers, though much of Vranický’s passagework, especially in the finale, approaches closer to Viotti in manner than to the later composers the notes identify as Vranický’s models and teachers (Mozart, Haydn, and Albrechtsberger).


The Prague Chamber Orchestra plays with style and verve; the engineers have balanced Demeterová somewhat in front of it, but not so far as to sound unnatural. John Bauman reviewed these performances, recorded in 1995, when they appeared as Supraphon 002-2031 (without the video, which can be played on PC or Apple), in 19:6, finding the violinist’s tone “warm” though not “overly large,” and her style generally “well suited” to the three concertos. His complaint about a lack of information about the music (the disc apparently served as Demeterová’s debut) in the booklet has been answered by the inclusion of Lucie Ma?ourová’s helpful notes, mentioned above. Recommended to all listeners, not only for its historical value but also for the eloquent playing of the debutante violinist.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Classical Music

Classical Music

The mezzo-soprano Dagmar Pecková decided to give herself and her friends and fans a very personal gift in the form of this Christmas album. The listener is treated to Bohemian and Moravian carols and to the tender poetry of Christmas songs from seventeenth-century Bohemian Baroque hymnals (Michna’s Chtíc aby spal is included in the collection, naturally). Dagmar Pecková has, of course, also turned her gaze beyond the hills on her homeland’s borders. Ultimately, whether it is carp or turkey on the festive dinner table, it is the birth of the Savior that is celebrated all over Europe. Good King Wenceslas is sung in England and Lulajze Jezuniu in Poland, while Stille Nacht and Adeste fideles are sung in many places in a variety of translations. But what about in Sweden, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Belgium, or Italy? The musical treasures of those countries are found here as well. Dagmar Pecková’s taste is unerring in her choice of musicians. Jaroslav Krcek enhances the charm of these songs both as the conductor of Musica Bohemica and as the arranger: within just a few bars, his unmistakable touch, inspired by Baroque and folk music, will enchant you with an incredible range of colors, from the intimacy of chamber music to an almost symphonic sound. Adding more color are the male voices of the Gentlemen Singers and other soloists. Please accept this invitation to tour Europe at Christmastide.

Classical Music

Classical Music

T?MA Stabat Mater in g. ZELENKA Sub tuum præsidium : in g, ZWV 157/1 ; in c, ZWV 157/2 ; in d, ZWV 157/3. Sanctus et Agnus dei : in d, ZWV 36 ; in g, ZWV 34. ORSCHLER Trio Sonata in F • Václav Luks, cond; Collegium vocale 1704; Collegium 1704 (period instruments) • SUPRAPHON 4160 (56:01 Text and Translation)


There is a considerable volume of music out there by Bohemian composer Franti?ek T?ma (1704–1774), much of which remains to rediscovered. Trained in Prague, he moved to Vienna in 1729 or thereabouts, though he sought to return to his homeland a number of times, especially in 1734 when the post of Kapellmeister at the cathedral there came vacant. Although he had a reputation as the truest adherent of Johann Joseph Fux, the Imperial Kapellmeister, he was only able to obtain a post with the dowager Empress Elisabeth, which meant little in terms of advancement or success in composer-rich Vienna. Nonetheless, he managed to create a large corpus of works, among which this Stabat Mater eventually became his signature piece. At least, it was spread about in Central Europe and performed for many years after T?ma’s death. Of the other two composers on this disc, Jan Dismas Zelenka needs no introduction, as he is well represented in the discography. He too had a tough time of it, never really quite making it to be top music dog in Dresden. But now at least his innovative and exquisitely composed music has been successfully resurrected, so his compositional genius is being recognized at a much higher level than during his own lifetime, Johann Sebastian Bach’s admiration notwithstanding. The works presented here include several recorded for the first time, notably his completions of Palestrina Masses that may date from his studies with Fux during his youth. In addition, there are three of the motet Sub tuum presidium settings that seem to date from towards the end of his life and show the Italian Neapolitan influences that were all the rage in Dresden at the time. The third composer is violinist Johann Georg Orschler, who was born in Bohemia in 1698 and died sometime around 1767 after a career as a court musician. His work is a five-movement trio sonata that apparently caused some stir in Dresden, for the concertmaster Johann Pisendel copied it out.


There is no doubt that the focal point of the disc ought to be the T?ma, which is rich in progressive ideas, even as it is a spare setting, for only voices and continuo, that recalls the stile antico . The opening “Stabat mater,” for example, has a lovely set of shifting harmonies and an imitative series of vocal entrances that compares nicely with the more famous Pergolesi work. About a minute or so in, however, there is what I swear is fauxbourdon, a sort of really impressive throwback all the way to the early Renaissance. In the “Pro peccatis,” there is a fugal theme that consists of rising entrances chromatically, something that gives the work an urgency of the torment described in the text. In the “Virgo, virginum praeclara” the continuo flows along with a nice ostinato ground, which the two altos hover above with soft suspensions eventually dropping into block chords. The final fugue,”Fac ut animae,” has the traditional cruciform drop of a diminished seventh in the swirling theme, and I find this piece of counterpoint particularly deeply studied. In short, it is a powerful piece of music, no less gripping due to the spare setting. This makes the Zelenka pieces appear a bit lusher, although they too are couched in the Tridentine counterpoint of the stile antico . The Sub tuum in C Minor has a rather lush texture that arrives via some nice imitative entrances. It then devolves into a delightful if poignant quartet where the soprano and alto push forward short lines into homophonic colophons. The Mass movements, all completions of Palestrina works, of which apparently Zelenka only had the opening movements, are more reminiscent to my ear of Alessandro Scarlatti than Girolamo Frescobaldi as the notes proclaim. To be sure, the final Agnus Dei of the Nigra sum Mass is carefully controlled Renaissance counterpoint, but the preceding Benedictus is not entirely stylistically convincing, if one is tempted to make all of this an 18th-century anachronism. The only odd work out is the Orschler Sonata, which stands somewhere between Telemann and Bach. The opening has a nice imitative falling motive that seems to indicate studied simplicity, but soon the chromaticism kicks in and it becomes positively Corellian. The second movement outlines what appears to be a folk song with unexpected rhythmic pulses. There are just enough slight turns to keep the music interesting, and yet the Baroque pedigree is clear throughout.


One might think that this sort of disc would be only of limited interest. The T?ma had several renditions a little over a decade ago, including a recording on Accent from 1999 and a reprocessing of some vinyl discs on the Czech Music Master series from the 1960s. And such spare music in an antique style composed within the brilliant musical style of the late Baroque might seem anachronistic. But the performances by the Collegium 1704 are superb. A single soprano, Hana Blažíkova, is balanced nicely by pairs of altos, tenors, and basses, all with a wonderfully discrete but omnipresent organ continuo. In the sonata, violinists Helena Zemanová and Jana Chytilová weave about each other in an equal arabesque, complemented by a solid continuo foundation. This is the anodyne to the often ostentatious brilliance of the music of the times, and for collectors it is highly recommended to show the stylistic breadth of which these composers were capable.


FANFARE: Bertil van Boer

MUSIC FROM 18TH-CENTURY PRAGUE • Jana Semerádová (fl, cond); Sergio Azzolini (bsn); Lenka Torgersen (vn); Helena Zemanova (vn); Collegium Marianum (period instruments) • SUPRAPHON 4112 (2 CDs: 112:31)


REICHENAUER Quartet in g for Violin, Cello, Bassoon, and Continuo, Rk 18. Trio Sonata in B? for Violin, Cello, and Continuo, Rk 20. FASCH Quartet in D for Flute, Violin, Bassoon, and Continuo, WV N:D1. Concerto in C for Flute, Violin, Bassoon, and Continuo, WV L:C3. Concerto in D for 2 Flutes, Strings, and Continuo, WV L:D9. JIRÁNEK Trio Sonata in B? for 2 Violins and Continuo, Jk 27. POSTEL Trio Sonata in A for 2 Violins and Continuo. ORSCHLER Trio in f for Two Violins and Continuo. VIVALDI Trio in g for Violin, Lute, and Continuo, RV 85. T?MA Partita in C for Flute and Continuo. CALDARA Sonata in A for Violin and Continuo


Let me begin with what usually comes at the end of a review, the recommendation. Without reservation, this is enthusiastically recommended to all lovers of music from the very late Baroque and very early Classical periods. Now you can skip the rest and run right to your computer to order this set.


I wanted to get that out of the way first before dealing with some of the inconsistencies in the titling of these works. But first let me credit the album booklet’s credits page for naming every member of the Collegium Marianum ensemble and cross-referencing each player with each work in which he or she is a participant.Next, let it be noted that of the 11 works on these two CDs, six are world premiere recordings, the two by Reinchenauer and those by Jiránek, Postel, Orschler, and T?ma.


Now for the inconsistencies. To begin with, the inclusion of works by Vivaldi and Caldara on a disc titled “18th-Century Music from Prague” is a bit of a stretch. Their music may have been known in the Bohemian capital, but it’s speculation on the part of note author Václav Kapsa as to whether either composer ever set foot in Prague; and even if they did, the works by which they’re represented on these discs were certainly not written there, nor, to my knowledge, does either of them have Czech ancestry in his blood. But who cares? Vivaldi and Caldara are always welcome guests.


The other inconsistencies have to do with the formal nomenclature used to classify some of these works. There’s no problem with the pieces designated “trio sonata” by Reichenauer, Jiránek, Postel, Orschler, and Vivaldi, all of which feature two melody instruments plus continuo. This was the common configuration for trio sonatas in the 18th century, and in what was fairly standard, if not de riguer baroque practice, a fourth low bass bowed string or plucked instrument was used to reinforce the keyboard’s bass line.


The current performances present us with an interesting and satisfying approach to this practice. In the Jiránek and Reichenauer trios, the keyboard instrument used is a harpsichord and, appropriately, it’s reinforced by a theorbo in one case and a baroque guitar in another. In the Postel trio, the keyboard instrument is an organ, for which reinforcement is probably not necessary, and so none is added. But in the Orschler trio, in which the organ is also used, a baroque guitar is added. Finally, in the Vivaldi trio for violin and lute, no keyboard instrument is used at all; instead, the theorbo alone fulfills the continuo function. So, in each of these pieces, the sound of the continuo is varied by the use of a different keyboard instrument (or no keyboard instrument in the case of the Vivaldi) in combination with a different reinforcing bass instrument (or none in the case of the Postel). Not only does this add an extra element of color, but it also suggests a connection with baroque performance practice, for I suspect that musicians came together to play these pieces with whatever instruments were available at the moment.


Figuring out the formal classifications of some of these other pieces is trickier. For example, we have two works designated “quartet” in which there are now three main melody instruments plus continuo. We don’t usually think of a quartet as being a piece like a trio sonata where a keyboard or low bass plucked instrument plays a continuo role, yet that’s what we have in Reicnenauer’s Quartet in G Minor for Violin, Cello, Bassoon, and Continuo and in Fasch’s Quartet in D Major for Flute, Violin, Bassoon, and Continuo. In both cases, the continuo instrument used is theorbo or baroque guitar.


Even more unusual to us in its terminology is Fasch’s Concerto in C for Flute, Violin, Bassoon, and Continuo. We know, of course, that baroque concertos almost invariably relied on a keyboard instrument to underpin the ensemble, but at the heart of the concerto concept was a single soloist or a small group of soloists contrasted against a larger instrumental body. Here we have a work called a concerto, but essentially it’s no different from the quartets discussed above. The answer to this head-scratcher is provided by the same composer whose above-cited concerto on disc 1 raised the question, for Fasch provides us on disc 2 with his Concerto in D Major for Two Flutes, Strings, and Continuo, which, with its body of multiple strings, comports more closely with what we think of as a true concerto.


The simple fact is that all of these pieces date from around the midway point in the 18th century at a time when the Baroque was transitioning to the Classical, when composers were experimenting with various instrumental combinations, and when terms used for musical forms were in a state of flux. It’s entirely reasonable to assume that works designated “quartet” by Reichenauer and Fasch sowed the seeds for what would shortly become a formalized quartet—i.e., four instruments unsupported by continuo.


Vivaldi, of course, but even Fasch, Caldara, and Reichenauer are names familiar to most listeners with more than a superficial exposure to music of the Baroque period, and they all flourished around the same time as Bach and Handel. But Franti?ek Jiránek (1698–1778), Christian Gottlieb Postel (1697–1730), Johann Georg Orschler (1697–1767/70), and Franti?ek Ignác Antonin T?ma (1704–1774) are apt to be less known or not known at all, and in two cases, Jiránek and T?ma, they lived well into the full flowering of the Classical period. There’s nothing in the music of these two later composers, however—at least in what there is of it on these CDs—to suggest that either of them had encountered Haydn. In terms of style, Jiránek’s trio sonata sounds the most modern, suggesting that he had some knowledge of C. P. E. Bach. But you would rightly identify the rest of the pieces in this collection as examples of late-Baroque style, influenced, it sounds to me, mainly by the Dresden school of Johann Georg Pisendel.


The above is not a criticism, it’s merely an observation based on my hearing of these pieces. The performances by this Prague-based ensemble are riveting. Composed of what appears to be 16 players, the Collegium Marianum is one of the best period-instrument groups I’ve recently encountered. Jana Semerádová has honed the ensemble to a high degree of technical perfection, and she both plays in and leads spirited, communicative, and moving performances in a program of music that will keep you listening and captivated for the almost two hours of this very strongly recommended two-disc set.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

PÍSNE A TANCE BAROKNÍ: SONGS AND DANCES OF THE BOHEMIAN BAROQUE • Jaroslav Krcek, cond; Musica Bohemica • SUPRAPHON SU 4098-2 (2 CDs: 138:54)


The pieces assembled on these two discs are drawn from several collections: Pet baroknich tancu (Five Baroque Dances) by Kristian Hirschmentzel (1638–1703); Trí Hanácké tance (Three Dances from Haná), a collection dating from c.1700; Písne a tance ze Zlatokorunské sbírky Ond?eje H?lky (Songs and Dances from the Collection of Ond?ej H?lky from Zlatá Koruna); and Nejstar?í sbírky ?eských lidových písní a tanc? (The Oldest Collections of Czech Folk Songs and Dances). The last-named source, a critical edition of which was published by Supraphon in 1987, in turn comprises materials from various sources. These include (if I am not misreading the somewhat confusing booklet notes) the 400 ?eské národní písne (Czech Folk Songs) published by Jan Ritter von Ritterberg in 1825; the 87 Staré svetské písne (Old Secular Songs) from the region around the central Bohemian village of Sadská, published at about the same time; manuscripts compiled by Jirí Hartl (1781–1849), a schoolmaster from Stara Paka; and the Bon Repos Book, compiled beginning in 1720 at the behest of Count Frantisek Antonin Spork (1662–1738). Many of these songs and dances were first preserved in written and published form due to “governorate gatherings,” official projects of the Austro-Hungarian Empire to collect folk materials of its indigenous peoples that were initiated in 1818. Some of these sources exist only in second-hand form; for example, of the 160 pieces originally collected by the famed fiddler Ondrej Hulky (1752–1806) from the region around the Zlatá Koruna monastery in the Ceské Budejovice region of southern Bohemia, only 50 have survived due to their inclusion in the final 1864 edition of an anthology published by the Czech historian and poet Karel Jaromir Erben (1811–70), Prostonárodní ceské písne a ?íkadla (Czech Folk Songs and Nursery Rhymes), as Hulky’s original manuscript has not survived.


The designation “Baroque” is potentially misleading; virtually all of these items are believed to date back at least to the early 17th century, and just as well might be termed “late Renaissance”; they are all of a style that immediately brings to mind a Czech counterpart to Michael Praetorius. The arrangements and instrumentations of all the pieces have been undertaken by conductor Jaroslav Kr?ek and his brother Josef. A total of 68 dances and songs are presented, of which about 20 are purely instrumental while the remainder have one (or occasionally more) singer. The instrumentation is extremely colorful, with the performers drawing upon fipple flutes, cimbaloms, tarogatos, hurdy-gurdies, and even some otherwise unspecified “instruments newly devised and made by their own hands.” All the performances are, as one would anticipate, utterly idiomatic and charming, even if the singers are less polished and more rustic than I personally prefer. The recorded sound is excellent. Unfortunately no texts of any sort are provided for the songs. Despite this drawback, if you love folk music or Renaissance dance music collections and are looking to expand your collection in a slightly more exotic direction, then you definitely will want to acquire this set.


FANFARE: James A. Altena

Includes concerto(s) for piano by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Ensembles: Czech Chamber Orchestra, Czech Philharmonic Orchestra. Conductor: Václav Neumann. Soloist: Ivan Moravec.

Classical Music

An artist with a penchant for seeking out the new, Radek Baborak has joined forces with other outstanding musicians so as to interpret the pieces as arranged for horn and string quartet. "I liked the idea of presenting the concertos in the form they may have been heard when Mr. Leutgeb would visit the Mozart's home, get together with Mr. Michael Haydn and Mr. Sussmayr, and make music."

Classical Music

MARTIn? Violin Concertos: No.1; No. 2. Rhapsody-Concerto 1 • Josef Suk (vn, va 1 ); Václav Neumann, cond; Czech PO • SUPRAPHON 3967 (72:31)


As recently as 32:4, I had occasion to review a four-disc Supraphon collection of Martin? works for violin and piano, a repackaging of recordings made between September of 1996 and April of 1998. The violinist on that set was Bohuslav Matoušek, a name probably not as familiar to U.S. audiences as that of world-renowned violinist Josef Suk, the soloist on this current Supraphon offering. In the aforementioned review, I noted that Suk had also explored some of Martin?’s music on disc, but not to the extent that Matoušek had. Here, on this compilation of twice previously released material, we are able to hear Suk in recordings made in 1973 (the two violin concertos) and 1987 (the viola work). What has me questioning this release is that it’s the exact same recording that was already released once before in 1998 as a mid-priced Supraphon CD (111969). Its present 2009 reincarnation sports a new album cover, but is the same recording and is still selling at the same midprice of $11.99. Is this yet another case of getting people to repurchase something they already own by pouring an old wine into a new bottle? Or is it yet another sign that so many record companies today are running on empty, simply recycling their back catalogs over and over again?


Bohuslav Martin? (1890–1959) was a 20th-century composer with strong ties to his 19th-century Czech forebears, Josef Bohuslav Foerster and Josef Suk, the composer. But Martin? left his homeland for Paris, where he studied with Roussel, encountered the music of Debussy, the jazz-infused musical and social cultures of Les Six, and the neo-Classicism of Stravinsky. In the early 1940s, Martin? spent time in the U.S., writing for leading American orchestras. He returned briefly to Czechoslovakia, but exiled himself to Switzerland when his country became a Soviet satellite in 1948. Martin?’s music is an assimilation of many influences and styles. Hard-driving motor rhythms and acidulous harmonies are recurrent and prominent features; but never far from the surface beats the heart of a profoundly Romantic soul that resonates with the melodic inflections of native Bohemian song. Listen to the Andante of the Violin Concerto No. 1 to hear a Czech-tinged tune that almost cries out to be set to words; or to the lyrical, rhapsodic outpourings of the Andante moderato of the Violin Concerto No. 2 and the Molto adagio of the Rhapsody-Concerto for viola.


This is gorgeous music that should be in everyone’s collection; and as performed by Josef Suk in his prime and the great Czech Philharmonic under one of its great conductors, Václav Neumann, these performances are rather more idiomatic, I think, than Isabelle Faust’s fairly recent recording of the Violin Concerto No. 2 with Ji?í B?lohlávek and the Prague Philharmonia, and a bit more so, too, than Jennifer Koh’s rendition of the same piece with Carlos Kalmar and Chicago’s Grant Park Orchestra. Though I must say I was quite smitten by Koh’s playing on a Çedille recording of the Schuman sonatas (see 30:6), so much so, in fact, that reviews by Robert Maxham and William Zagorski prompted me to acquire Koh’s Martin? and Szymanowski CD, which I hadn’t yet heard at the time of my Schumann entry.


The Suk/Neumann collaboration is strongly recommended; but don’t be fooled by the new packaging. It’s the same recording at the same price that’s now on its third circumnavigation of the globe.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins