‘London, April 1604. With the freshly printed partbooks of his Lachrimae under his arm, John Dowland walks from the printing house to his home in Fetter Lane. He should have been back in Denmark long ago, but for the moment all his thoughts are on the new publication he is carrying, his latest and most ambitious work to date: a complete cycle of instrumental music, twenty-one dances, honourably dedicated to Anne of Denmark, Queen of England.’ For Dowland has just completed one of the greatest masterpieces of Renaissance music. He had left England to enter the service of the Danish court, disappointed at not being appointed court composer to Elizabeth I, but he seems to have made the best of all his setbacks to compose this magnificent collection of purely instrumental works, much of it bathed in the melancholy typical of late sixteenth-century England.

Musicall Humors – a collective of the finest gambists of their generation – performs the complete set of pavans, galliards and ‘almands’, grouped into suites, each with its own character. A character inspired by the music, but reinforced here by the changing composition of the consort and the players taking turns to perform the ‘top line’, so that each musician’s personal playing style gives each piece a specific colour.

REVIEWS:

Dunford immerses the five-person gamba ensemble led by Julien Léonard and Lucile Boulanger in a rich and often extremely fragile-seeming web of voices and moods with a composure and sovereignty that moves and inspires. Everything breathes in the most wonderfully sonorous interplay, nothing groaning excessively. And when they dance, they maintain their posture and dignity like a dream.

-- ConcertoNet

We are faced with an absolutely referential recording, of intense and unprecedented beauty. Musicall Humors offers us the complete collection, but in a sequence of pavans followed by galliards, which refreshes our ears with the contrast, compared to the usual arrangement.

-- Scherzo

Ever since the foundation of his ensemble in 2009, Damien Guillon has been forging ahead in the (re)discovery of J. S. Bach’s cantatas. ‘Trinitatis’ is devoted to three cantatas for the season after Trinity, for which Le Banquet Celeste has assembled its most seasoned members. Three very different works in which Bach expresses in various ways the emotion that the subject of the prescribed Gospel for the day stirred in him.

Soprano Anna Prohaska and violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja are both well known for their taste for eclecticism, experimentation and adventure. As they are also are friends, it was only to be expected that one day they would devise and record a programme together, and here it is: Maria Mater Meretrix … What is the relationship between Hildegard von Bingen and Gustav Holst, Antonio Caldara and Lili Boulanger? The two musicians and their partners in Camerata Bern explore the image of woman through ten centuries of music: the figure of the Virgin Mary – among other works, the triptych Magnificat - Ave Maria - Stabat Mater (1967/68) by Frank Martin, an unclassifiable composer whom both artists venerate – but also Mary Magdalene, in pieces by Caldara and Kurtág. The Saint, the Mother, the Whore … The expression of two women musicians of today, a journey full of meaning and a sensory exploration featuring solos, duets, quartets and works for large orchestra.

REVIEWS:

Here’s a fun proposition. A program comprising works depicting either the Virgin Mary or Mary Magdalene through time, conceived of and executed with flair by the soprano Anna Prohaska and violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja. Both are thoughtful, entirely game musicians, and their passion for the concept and material is evident.

Taking as their theme the archetypes of saint, mother, and whore, Prohaska and Kopatchinskaja traverse many periods and styles in their exploration of the two Marys: Holst, Eisler, von Bingen, Kurtág, and Haydn are just some of the composers jostling for your attention. Undoubtedly the risk for some listeners will be an experience that verges on the musical patchwork, and for some Maria Mater Meretrix is easily dismissed as just another concept album. For this reviewer, the particular alchemy of Prohaska and Kopatchinskaja override any such reservations, and some of the works gathered here are given truly revelatory readings.

Take Kurtág’s Kafka Fragments for one, selections of which are threaded through the track list. They pack a punch despite – or is it because of? – their lengths (the Berceuse lasts all of 59 seconds) and leave you wanting more: more of the composer’s spectral, exquisitely simple settings of Kafka’s diaries and letters, and more of the musicians’ seemingly inherent way with the music.

The spine of the recording is Frank Martin’s Maria-Triptychon, which is similarly taken apart and studded throughout the album. This is another move that won’t agree with some listeners, and the contrast between a selection and its preceding or succeeding piece is sometimes a little too jarring to be entirely fruitful. However, there’s no faulting the commitment of the performers – Prohaska bends and wields her darkly-coloured, rich soprano with feline ease, and Kopatchinskaja matches her with her own glowing, sinuous phrasing. Together they bring to life an emotional world alternating between moments of extreme desperation and rapture, reaching such a pitch of intensity that the more tranquil offerings on the album actually serve as much needed and effective moments of respite.

Hildegard von Bingen’s O Rubor Sanguinis is one such example, drawing the listener into a richly imagistic world of great beauty. The closing “Per il mar del pianto mio” is another such example, taken from a Caldara oratorio that deals directly with Mary Magdalene – Maddalena ai piedi di Cristo. Prohaska is simply gorgeous here, unfurling seemingly endless long lines of deeply felt sorrow and hard-won faith. Her unstinting dramatic instincts have never seemed so in tune with her musical gifts, and she brings something like Eisler’s sly, cabaret-tinged “Lied der Kupplerin” to bold, brilliant life.

Directing the sensitive and dramatically attuned Camerata Bern, Kopatchinskaja thrills in electrifying selections from Haydn’s Seven Last Words and the God-Music movement of George Crumb’s spine-tingling Black Angels string quartet. The violinist’s own improvisatory Felino is a playful nod to the prominent role of cats in Marian imagery.

This recording comes highly recommended.

-- Limelight

Venice was surely the capital of music and the arts in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and one of the most coveted positions in the city was that of maestro di cappella at St. Mark’s Basilica. A few lucky chosen candidates succeeded one another in bringing to life the musical splendour of the basilica, all of them fabulous musicians and composers prolonging the legacy of the great Claudio Monteverdi. For its third recording on Alpha, the ensemble Les Surprises has chosen to sail towards Venetian waters and mix with these geniuses of affect, word-setting and theatre, exploring music that ranges from grandiose double choruses to intimate duets or trios combining sacred and profane.

Giorgi Gigashvili is only twenty-two, but he is already hitting the headlines: now a pupil of Nelson Goerner, he is a protégé of Martha Argerich, who gave him the urge to play the piano alongside his first love, pop singing: at the age of thirteen, he was a contestant in The Voice in his homeland, Georgia, and won the prize! A few years later, Argerich discovered him at a piano competition, and he went on to win prizes at several more, including the Hortense Anda-Bührle Prize at the Géza Anda Competition in Zurich in 2021. Another high-flying mentor, the violinist Lisa Batiashvili, asked him to play him the piano on her recording of the Franck Violin Sonata. His free and spectacular playing impresses, his creativity and personality astonish. Here he presents his first recital, revealing his palette of colours: Scarlatti, Beethoven, Scriabin and Messiaen. But never far away is his shadow, the singer of the electro band Tsduneba (‘temptation’ in Georgian) which he founded with his friends.

In 1906, Komitas gave a concert and lecture in Paris. Debussy came on stage after the concert and knelt before the Armenian composer (who was also a priest, a singer and a pioneer of ethnomusicology), exclaiming: ‘I bow before your genius, Reverend Father.’

'Komitas is the voice of the land of Armenia, of its churches and its stones which remained silent for many centuries', the violinist David Haroutunian tells us. Along with the mezzo-soprano Eva Zaïcik, who is passionate about these songs, and the pianist Xénia Maliarevitch, he pays tribute to this great musician and to the French-Armenian composer Garbis Aprikian, now ninety-six years old. This heir to Komitas, a student of Olivier Messiaen, has made a major contribution to the dissemination of Armenian music, both classical and popular, in France and beyond. The album opens with his Lamento, a beautiful evocation of and touching homage to Komitas.

CONTENTS:

• Aprikian: Lamento
• Komitas: Qeler-tsoler
• Komitas: Shogher Jan
• Komitas: Shushiki of Vagharshapat
• Ganatchian: Lullaby
• Komitas: Tsirani tsar
• Komitas: Hoi Nazan Im
• Komitas: Lullaby
• Komitas: Krunk (la grue)
• Komitas: Antuni
• Hakob Aghabab: Jan, ay loosin! (Loosin yelav)
• Komitas: Yerangi
• Aprikian: Lullaby (Arr. for Violin and Piano by David Haroutunian)
• Komitas: Akh Maral Jan
• Komitas: Garoun a (printemps)
• Komitas: Chinar Es
• Komitas: Kaqavik
• Komitas: Yergink Ambel e
• Komitas: Qele, Qele
• Komitas: Dances: No. 5, Het-Araj
• Aprikian: Little Nuptial Suite
• Aprikian: Petite suite nuptial - IV. Scherzo. Réjouissances

REVIEW:

The album opens with Aprikian’s ‘Lamento’, a solemn and moving homage to Komitas, and continues with 5 other pieces by Aprikian and one each by Ganatchian and Achabab. The other 16 pieces are by Komitas. Songs of grief and sadness, separation from loved ones and rejoicing over times of reunion, lullabies, hardship, and homelessness alternate with instrumental pieces. Many reflect the Armenian folk tradition. A lullaby by Aprikian is especially lovely.

The performances are superb. Eva Zaicik, who impressed me greatly in her recent Nisi Dominus album for Alpha, is once again outstanding in a different style. She adapts easily to the vocal demands of this music, with silky singing in a quiet low register and smooth warmth in her higher brighter voice. In a similar way, David Haroutunian draws viola tones from his lower register and high-pitched almost ghostly effects, perhaps from playing sul ponticello (bowing near the bridge). Xenia Maliarevitch is a wonderfully attentive pianist.

When this arrived I didn’t know what to expect. It turned out to be a most welcome arrival that has appreciably broadened my musical horizon. Each time I listen I find something new to appreciate.

Notes, texts and translations incuded.

-- American Record Guide

The baritone Georg Nigl is fascinated by ballads, which unfold in him "dream images". Schubert's long and little-known lied Viola, based on a poem by Franz von Schober, or the great ballads based on texts by Goethe "opened up a world that has always accompanied me, that of the storyteller (...) stories of frightening beauty, with as many colours as possible...". The magnificent pianos on this recording - a Christoph Kern fortepiano after Conrad Graf (Vienna, 1826) and a Steinway & Sons concert grand piano (New York, 1875) - beautifully played by Olga Pashchenko, with whom Georg now forms an intimate and inspired duo, allow us to hear "unknown sounds and sometimes unheard-of colours"...

On his second album for Alpha Classics, rising star violinist Kerson Leong juxtaposes the Violin Concertos of Bruch and Benjamin Britten. This unusual pairing is a reflection on the journey from one extreme of expression to another. Bruch’s In Memoriam is the perfect bridge between them. “The Britten expresses a raw and exposed experience, while the Bruch is comforting and uplifting. After the last few years in which the world has experienced much difficulty and uncertainty due to pandemic, war, and crisis, recording this album in London in January 2021 with the Philharmonia Orchestra and Patrick Hahn was a profoundly cathartic moment. It is in the spirit of catharsis that I offer this album.” - Kerson Leong

REVIEW:

The clincher for me was the lead work on the disc, Britten’s Violin Concerto, which actually has enjoyed a rash of recent recordings by “name” players, but none that has managed to make sense of the piece for me – or even particularly to like it. Leong changed that for me, and when an artist can overcome my resistance and make me hear a work in a different perspective, one that illuminates its beauty and elucidates its soul, that is worthy of a Want List entry.

-- Fanfare

Kerson Leong’s splendid account of the Bruch comes hot on the heels of [other recordings, but] Leong’s take on the piece is more outgoing in expression. Leong’s generosity of phrase and tone, for instance, comes unashamedly from the chest in the songful reaches of the slow movement, and in the finale where the big tune bears down on the G string he really tugs at our emotions.

The bonus addition here is Bruch’s littleheard but substantial tribute to Joseph Joachim, In memoriam, which is as turbulent as it is reflective, as befitting the legendary violinist’s fighting spirit, and gives Leong further opportunity to sing from the heart. My thoughts occasionally turned to Elgar and the more than a hint of nobilmente that it proffers.

But it is the coupling of the Britten Violin Concerto (gratifyingly becoming more and more core repertoire these days) which...sets this disc apart. The inspiration here was another violinist, Antonio Brosa, but more self-evidently, through the Spanish inflections in its material, it’s a meditation on that most divisive of civil wars – something which clearly distressed and exercised Britten, the pacifist. This is the composer at his most elegiac and unsettled (is it major or minor?) and Leong is clearly at one with its inner tussles – but also with all the extraordinary sparks of originality which make it unmistakably Britten: like the powerful coda of the first movement which pits the soloist’s abrasive pizzicato against deeply meditative strings only to have him grow more and more prayerful with the music’s ascendancy.

The kinship with Shostakovich is startling in the trenchant Scherzo, which Leong digs into with great resilience, but again the entry of the tuba with violin and piccolo in extremis high above the stave is pure Britten, as is the emotive orchestral climax.

But Leong really makes his mark with the concluding Passacaglia, a form so beloved of both Britten and Shostakovich as a metaphorical anchor in times of great stress. Suddenly psychological ambiguities are set aside and in the wake of one war Britten becomes contentious objector of all. The tragedy catches in his throat and the music of those closing pages – movingly projected by Leong – chokes on the soloist’s final utterances. With outstanding collaboration from Patrick Hahn and the Philharmonia Orchestra I can’t recall a better account of the piece than this.

-- Gramophone

“For this recording we have created an imaginary ‘battle of the bows’ between Vivaldi, Veracini, Tartini and Locatelli, the ‘four musketeers’ of the violin in Venice during the first half of the 18th century”, said Chouchane Siranossian and Andrea Marcon. “Corelli died in 1713 and passed the torch on to his heirs… Venice then became the setting for merciless rivalries. The violin became an instrument of confrontation, an ideal weapon for demonstrating virtuosity and technical prowess. The player’s ultimate goal was to astonish the listener and to demonstrate his own bravura, to the point that certain narcissistic tendencies of the player were often exaggerated.” Chouchane Siranossian, whose virtuosity was described as "diabolical" by the Sunday Times and who “hit the nail on the head” according to Classica on her Tartini recording (Alpha596, Choc), is the ideal interpreter of these high-risk concertos, with the fresh and knowledgeable support of Andrea Marcon and his Venetian ensemble.

Schumann composed Kreisleriana in April 1838, at the age of 27, exactly the same age as Aaron Pilsan today : “The youthful thing that I can identify with in Kreisleriana is its spontaneity. If I had to describe the piece, I would use the German word for crazy, ‘verrückt’, which doesn’t just mean crazy, but also to be disconnected from reality. So, crazy, imaginative and intimate… There is a huge connection between these two German composers, as Jörg Widmann was inspired by Schumann’s music a lot and even his musical language is very similar, even though their styles are obviously very different. The starting point for Widmann’s music is from feelings, from the emotions and sentiments and that is where there is a similarity, but not only there. He even quotes Robert Schumann in his tenth Humoreske, taking a bar directly from Schumann’s Geistervariationen."

REVIEW:

Pilsan expresses the inner turmoil of the Kreisleriana with a keen sense of the enigmatism that is one of the secrets of Schumann’s art. He also finds the right approach in the Geistervariationen, interiorized, cantabile and supple. The melodic tenderness is never obscured by melancholy. It is in such a clear and restrained interpretation that the loss becomes clear, for this is, after all, Schumann’s last work before he was committed to a mental hospital.

Between the two Schumann works Aaron Pilsan has inserted Jörg Widmann’s Elf Humoresken, whose title refers to Robert Schumann. He succeeds very well in showing what the composer wanted: "May the interpreter discover in each of the pieces its very own tone and make it sound, sometimes mocking, then again dry, here melancholically clouded, but always with humor and subtlety."

-- Pizzicato

[Pilsan’s] artistry has evolved considerably. You have to turn to the most esteemed recordings of Kreisleriana, by Horowitz, Pollini, and Argerich, for example, to outstrip Pilsan’s performance. He seeks more balance and moderation at times than those pianists...he’s clearly to the manner born.

Reading the informative liner notes to this new release, which also includes a brief interview with Widmann conducted by Pilsan, you pick up some obvious reference points. Schumann wrote his own set of humoresques, and he freely used the expression marking mit Humor or mit guten Humor, which a postmodern composer like Widmann doesn’t take to be as simple as it looks. He takes full advantage of an emotional spectrum extended even farther than Schumann’s.

The mood is often freely tonal and Romantic, easily accessible if you appreciate contemporary eclecticism and Widmann in particular, as I very much do. Fragmentary references to Schumann abound, and in the final piece a bar of music from Schumann’s last work, the “Ghost” Variations, is directly quoted, serving as a link to Pilsan’s performance of the whole piece. The other major work on the program, Kreisleriana, was based on the fantastical Kapellmeister Johannes Kreisler created by E. T. A. Hoffman. The fact that Schumann borrows the title of one of the three Kreisler novels (the last of which is narrated by his cat) implies that the music describes Kreisler’s peculiar temperament as much as Schumann’s – in the medieval sense, temperament is rooted in the four humors.

I haven’t heard other recordings of the Widmann, but Pilsan’s account seems nearly ideal in the way he merges Schumann into the contemporary texture of the music.

-- Fanfare

Victor Julien-Laferrière, winner in 2017 of the first Queen Elisabeth International Music Competition of Belgium dedicated to the cello, presents here two French works for cello and orchestra: Outscape by Pascal Dusapin: "The title itself carries the musical project (...) a word rich in meaning that indicates a variety of meanings from the most common to the most philosophical. “Outscape” is the way or opportunity to escape, to invent a path of one's own. I liked this word because it is basically like a summary of the history of my work." Alongside this work composed in 2015 and here recorded in its world premiere (conducted by Kristiina Poska), the French cellist, the Orchestre National de France, this time conducted by David Robertson, celebrate Henri Dutilleux (who died just 10 years ago, on 22 May 2013), with his famous concerto, whose title is taken from a poem in Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du mal, La Chevelure: " A whole far-away world, absent, almost defunct"...

REVIEW:

Tout un monde lointain… finds Dutilleux at his stealthiest – not least in the first of its five continuous movements, ‘Énigme’, to whose refractory changes of mood JulienLaferrière is as attentive as he is to the probing inwardness of ‘Regard’ and the plangent dialogue of ‘Houles’. Nor is he afraid of mining a deeper vein of expression than many in the shimmering vistas of ‘Miroirs’, before ‘Hymne’ brings this Baudelaire-inspired sequence to an energetic if ultimately equivocal conclusion.

The numerous possible meanings of Dusapin's Outscape (2015), are reflected in the timbral and textural interplay of music where a corresponding emotional intensity gradually takes precedence. Even in the dramatic final stage, an interiorized quality remains foremost yet, as JulienLaferrière renders it, there is never an absence of immediacy.

With vibrant orchestral playing and sound of real vividness, this disc can be warmly recommended.

-- Gramophone

Among the many composers he commissioned new works from, including Britten and Lutosławski, the cello concerto that Rostropovich commissioned from Henri Dutilleux holds a special place. Rostropovich commissioned new works at the drop of a hat, and it took only a backstage introduction by Igor Markevitch in 1961 (reminiscent of Rostropovich’s first meeting with Britten, the introducer being Shostakovich) for him to prompt Dutilleux to write something for him. Rostropovich added that the famously slow and meticulous composer take his time, which Dutilleux did, producing Tout un monde lointain… , the concerto’s given title, in 1968. This led to the premiere in 1970 and later a famous recording by Rostropovich for EMI, transferred to CD in 1988.

The title, which translates as “An entire world far away,” was a considered choice, taken from the poetry of Baudelaire – in the early 1950s Dutilleux was inspired to write a ballet based on Les fleurs du mal, but it came to nothing. Baudelaire is the source of the one-word titles of the concerto’s five movements, but it is reasonable simply to consider them as indicators of the music’s atmospheric moods. As varied as the score is, Dutilleux focuses on the cello’s lyrical voice.

Dutilleux ascribed much of the work’s immediate success to Rostropovich’s performance, which is likely enough. That poses a formidable challenge for subsequent soloists, in the present case Victor Julien-Laferrière, an admired French cellist born in Paris in 1990. I’ve appreciated him as a member of the outstanding Trio Les Esprits[.]

Therefore, I listened to the present release with faith in Julien-Laferrière’s abilities. He is in every way exemplary, and the absence of Rostropovich’s strong presence isn’t felt unless you do a bar-by-bar comparison. Dutilleux lived long enough – he died at 97 in 2013 – to journey through many stylistic phases, and I’d say that Tout un monde lointain… , despite its modernist harmonies, is richly Romantic. A flair for theatricality infuses the score, which aids in directly communicating with the listener.

David Robertson, a specialist in modern and contemporary music, provides ideal accompaniment, and although Serge Baudo is excellent on the Rostropovich recording, this new version features more precise and colorful orchestral execution from the Orchestre National de France, along with improved, up-to-date recorded sound.

The notion of a distant imagined world is a shared theme with Pascal Dusapin’s Outscape from 2016 – in a free-form composer’s note he rhapsodizes about the connotations of this English word, which frankly I’d never run across before (it’s a synonym for “an escape”).

Outscape is engrossing, underscored by Julien-Laferrière’s intense and highly accomplished performance of the solo part. I often couldn’t follow the argument by ear, but there was no trouble remaining involved with a work that exemplifies the current eclecticism so vividly. The mood is often deliberate, at times mournful, and it helps that the music’s emotional tone is so clear and direct, even as its gestures widely divagate.

It’s frustrating, no doubt, to compete with a classic recording, all the more because the Dusapin must stand up to Rostropovich’s pairing, the esteemed Lutosławski Cello Concerto, another of his most notable commissions. But Julien-Laferrière has a great deal going for him, and there’s no obstacle to giving this release a strong recommendation.

-- Fanfare

A highly prolific composer, Giovanni Legrenzi practised his art in oratorios and other works for the church, as well as in opera and chamber music. In fact he explored all the musical genres of his period, taking over the baton handed on by Gabrieli and Monteverdi, and enjoying an enviable reputation among his contemporaries. Better known during his lifetime (1626-1690) for his operas rather than for his religious music, Legrenzi was widely admired and copied all over Europe.

Of his eight known oratorios, only three have survived, including this gem: La morte del cor penitente (The Death of the Repentant Heart), a chamber oratorio probably composed in 1671. The theme is the spiritual development of the Sinner, the central figure of the work, who must pay his debt to God to save his immortal soul. The oratorio’s text provides a whole vivid universe of ‘affects’ (emotions) relating to spiritual torments and temptations. In his pilgrimage from the Cross to the heavenly light, beset by the competing voices of Sin and Hope, the Sinner duly makes his repentance, and finally achieves redemption.

For their fourth recording on Alpha Classics, Paavo Järvi and the Estonian Festival Orchestra - who bring together the best Estonian talent and leading musicians from around the world each year in Pärnu - celebrate composers from Estonia and Poland, two nations closely connected by their history. Eduard Tubin (1905-1982) is a composer whose ten symphonies tower at the top of Estonian orchestral music. The same may be said about his stage works. World War II forced Tubin to emigrate to Sweden in 1944, where he spent the rest of his life. Suite from the ballet Kratt (Goblin) is based on Tubin’s ballet by the same name, which was also the first ballet in Estonian musical history… Musique funèbre by Polish composer Witold Lutoslawski (1913-1994), was composed in memory of Béla Bartók and its premiere commemorated the 10th anniversary of the Hungarian composer’s death. Bartók’s Orchestral Concerto inspired the Concerto for String Orchestra composed in 1948 by Grazyna Bacewicz (1909-1969). Ignored for many years, she is now one of Poland’s most popular female composers.

REVIEWS:

An imaginative program, played with conviction.

Paavo Järvi has long been a champion of the major Estonian composer Eduard Tubin (1905–1982). He gave us the first recording of Tubin’s last symphony, No. 11, and also recorded Symphony No. 5 with the Cincinnati Orchestra as a coupling for the Sibelius Second. More recently, Jarvi and his conductor-brother Kristian established the Estonian Festival, and with the Festival Orchestra Paavo has made exciting recordings of other Estonian composers, as well as Shostakovich.

This program consists of two works by Tubin: the suite from the ballet Kratt (The Goblin) and the Music for Strings (1962), along with the increasingly familiar Concerto for String Orchestra by Polish composer Grażyna Bacewicz, and Witold Lutosławski’s early masterpiece, Musique funèbre, written in memory of Bartók.

Kratt, which has been recorded complete elsewhere, is a vibrant, colourful score with a hint of Petrushka about it. There is not a dull moment in the 25-minute suite Tubin assembled in 1961, nor in his Music for Strings, where Jarvi relishes the mysterious textures of the first movement.

He conducts a full-blooded, vigorous performance of Bacewicz’s piece, especially in the finale where the composer combines neat counterpoint with rhythmic punch. Finally, we get a searing rendition of Musique funèbre, where the parallels to Bartók’s Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta are underlined as a basis for exploration. Sound quality in this imaginative program is excellent.

-- Limelight

Paavo Järvi and the Estonian Festival Orchestra present music by Estonian composer Eduard Tubin (1905–1982), opening the program with a colorful and entertaining suite from the ballet Kratt (Goblin). The suite from the ballet Kratt (1961) is based on Tubin’s ballet of the same name. The idea for this work was born in 1938 after his return from Budapest, where he had presented his compositions to Zoltan Kodaly. Kodaly recommended that he pay greater attention to the use of folk tunes.

Tubin obtained material from the Estonian folklore archive and selected thirty folk songs and instrumental pieces as the basis for the ballet. In Estonian mythology, a kratt (goblin) is created by humans but brought to life by the devil. Influenced by evil forces, the Kratt flies through the air, leaving behind a glowing trail of fire as he accumulates treasures for his master. But in return, the master sells his soul to the devil.

The first performance of Kratt took place in Tallinn on February 24, 1944, on the founding day of the Estonian Republic. The ballet was performed only six times before the National Opera Estonia was destroyed on March 9 in a in a bombing raid by the Russian Soviet Army when Russia annexed Estonia.

The score fell victim to the fire, but the instrumental parts and piano reduction were safe. Tubin took them with him when he fled to Sweden in 1944, and made a new score. In 1961, he was commissioned by the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra to compose the suite from the ballet. Tubin’s music for strings, which is no less tonally appealing, can also be heard, and Paavo Järvi lets it be played expressively.

Musique funèbre by Polish composer Witold Lutoslawski (1913–1994) was composed in memory of Bela Bartok. It is more of an homage than a lament or an elegy, and Järvi is wary of any sentimentality. Very exciting is the neoclassical Concerto for String Orchestra by Polish composer Grazyna Bacewicz, played with bouncy momentum in the outer movements and sublime delicacy in the Andante.

-- Pizzicato

Temptation, prohibition, good, evil... ‘how relevant are these in today's world?’ asks Benjamin Appl. With the complicity of pianist James Baillieu, we are taken on a musical arc from simple folk songs through to the great song composers such as Schubert, Schumann and Wolf, along the way visiting the Impressionists Debussy and Poulenc, exploring ‘new objectivity’ with Weill and Eisler and enjoying compositions by Casucci, Heggie and others. The metaphor of forbidden fruit gives Benjamin and James a wide range of possible interpretations. Whilst some of the song settings centre on sensuality, others focus on socially immoral topics such as incest or sensitive subjects such as abortion. The German baritone embodies each of these stories with a passion and dramatic sense that makes this album a kaleidoscopic and astonishing journey through time and space.

Baritone Konstantin Krimmel, voted ‘Best Newcomer’ of the year at the 2023 Oper! Awards in Germany and a member of the eminent Bavarian State Opera company since 2021, presents his third recording for Alpha. In close partnership with pianist Daniel Heide, he places his artistry and his feeling for words at the service of the lied repertory. This is also an opportunity to discover his vision of the work, an unexpectedly contemporary, socio-psychological analysis: ‘Die schöne Müllerin is a work that romanticises the development of a mental illness, and shows, unfiltered, how a young person can feel without a tempered emotional world. With all its dark sides.’

Fascinated by the interplay of echoes from one past to another, Vincent Dumestre and Stéphanie d’Oustrac found an affinity in the project Mon Amant de Saint-Jean, their very first collaboration, and aimed to make it a unique musical adventure: a recital in which the atmosphere of the chansons of the Années Folles infuses early music with its sweet madness. In 1904, the great cabaret singer Yvette Guilbert was invited to the home of the Casadesus family, the founders of the Société des Instruments Anciens (Early instrument society): the Baroque fraternised with the café-concert. Around the same time, in the revue Paris qui chante, an aria by Scarlatti rubbed shoulders with the coarse language of Aristide Bruant and Paulin, while Gaston Dumestre, a singer at the cabaret Le Chat Noir (and one of Vincent’s ancestors!), sang chansons réalistes while accompanying himself on the theorbo presented to him by Oscar II of Sweden: ‘It is in language that we must seek the common driving force. These cabaret singers relished a very special flavour, a vigour, a raciness in the words of the Baroque era’, concludes Vincent Dumestre.

It was in the second half of the sixteenth century that the guitar became fashionable in France: it was the instrument of the people, whereas the lute was associated with the intellectuals and the nobility. Henry Grenerin became a page (choirboy) in the Musique du Roi in 1641 and went on to invent a new way of playing the instrument and offer it music full of ‘freedom, mystery and ardour’, says Bruno Helstroffer. In the very first recording devoted to Grenerin’s music, Bruno revives this unjustly forgotten composer and makes the most of his long experience as both Baroque musician and exponent of today’s music. He became fascinated by this seventeenth-century composer, and his investigations led him to the Left Bank of the Seine, opposite the Louvre Palace, where Henry’s grandfather was a fisherman, hence the punning title L’âme-son [French hameçon = ‘fish-hook’, âme-son = ‘soul of sound’]. A saga that has also generated a book and a stage show about Grenerin – the first in the line of ‘guitar heroes’ that was to lead to Django Reinhardt and Jimi Hendrix!

The title of this album evokes not only the life-long journey of all these musicians, but also a lasting friendship between soprano Barbara Hannigan and the Emerson String Quartet. One of the greatest string quartets of the last four decades, the Emersons will disband in October 2023.

Barbara and the Emersons were determined to record Schoenberg's Quartet No. 2 since they started performing the work together in 2015. "The sheer sonic scope of this work takes us on a voyage into previously uncharted territory" say the Emerson musicians. "It's like a tall, gnarly tree to climb (all the way to another planet, it seems), yet one with deep and emotional roots", continues Barbara Hannigan. "The soprano’s fin-de-siècle primal scream at the end of the 3rd movement, begging to be relieved of love, is a heavy hitter."

Melancholie is a rare and intimate work by the young Hindemith, "a gem of a piece" that the Canadian soprano has wanted to explore for many years. The fascinating Quartet Op. 3, composed by Berg in 1909 as he was finishing his apprenticeship with Schoenberg, features the quartet on its own. And to round out the album, pianist Bertrand Chamayou joins Barbara and the Emersons for another deeply moving encounter by way of Chausson's heartbreaking Chanson perpétuelle.

REVIEW:

This is the final release from the legendary Emerson String Quartet, disbanding nearly five decades after it was formed as a student group. Here, the group takes on monuments of 20th century music, mostly works that it has never recorded before. There are thorny works by Berg and Schoenberg, each on the edge of atonality; the Second String Quartet No. 2 of Schoenberg dispensing with a key signature altogether in the finale. The last two movements of this work feature a vocalist, and the precise, tense singing of soprano Barbara Hannigan makes a perfect foil for the Emerson. There are some little-known songs for voice and string quartet by the young Paul Hindemith, and a fascinating Chanson perpétuelle of Ernest Chausson, which fits the Infinite Voyage theme of the album even if it may not at first seem to be appropriate musically. All in all, this release will hang in listeners’ minds for a good long time, which is exactly what is desired from a valedictory release. Infinite, indeed.

-- AllMusic.com (James Manheim)

This ninth volume of the Haydn 2032 series focuses on the composer’s psychological subtlety in its focus on a central work: his Symphony no.45, known as the ‘Abschieds-Symphonie’ (‘Farewell’ Symphony), composed in 1772. It is said to have got its nickname from a symbolic message Haydn conveyed to Prince Esterházy when he and his orchestra were required to stay longer than planned in the Prince’s summer residence. On the occasion of the symphony’s first performance, Haydn had arranged for the musicians to leave their places one by one during the final Adagio. The day after the concert, all the musicians were able to return to their families and bid farewell to the Prince, who had obviously taken the point of this poetic request for ‘liberation’ expressed in music. The programme is completed by Symphonies nos. 15 and 35 and a cantata sung by Sandrine Piau, the heart-rending ‘Berenice, che fai?’ on a text by Metastasio that was a real ‘hit’ of the eighteenth century, set by some forty composers. This limited and numbered edition contains two vinyl LPs along with an album of photos by Patrick Zachmann (Magnum Photos) and an unpublished text entitled Adieux by the Swiss writer Franz Hohler.

The fourteenth volume of the Haydn 2032 edition is entitled L'Imperiale, after the nickname given to Symphony no.53 in the nineteenth century. This was perhaps Haydn's most famous symphony during his lifetime. Premiered in the theatre at Eszterháza Palace in 1778, it was published in London around 1781, and its melodious Andante was arranged more than thirty times for various instruments between 1783 and 1820. It made a decisive contribution to Haydn’s success, opening the way for him to perform in England. Symphony no.54, whose entertaining, theatrical style is a perfectly match for the atmosphere of the legendary court festivities given at Eszterháza around 1775, completes this programme along with no.33, one of his first festive works with trumpets, composed c.1761. In his introductory text, Giovanni Antonini revels in the ‘capricious’, whimsical character of certain passages in the last movement of Symphony No. 53; he also offers an alternative finale of the work at the end of the album.

Johann Sebastian Bach hardly ever left his native Saxony; yet he was always up to date on what was going on elsewhere in Europe. Naturally; he paid close attention to innovations from Italy; the cradle of the concertante style; and instilled transalpine sparkle in his brilliant counterpoint; especially in his keyboard works. Proof of this may be found in the pieces based on originals by the Venetians Antonio Vivaldi and Benedetto Marcello; in which Bach transcends everything with his polyphonic genius. In the large-scale Italian Concerto; the future composer of the Goldberg Variations revisits Corelli and; once again; Vivaldi. After several solo recordings devoted to musical dynasties (La Famille Forqueray; La Famille Rameau and Les Frères Francoeur); Justin Taylor sets off on a voyage of exploration of Bach and Italy.

Two Brazilian artists pay tribute to Villa-Lobos and the Amazon rainforest…Sebastião Salgado is a world-renowned photographer who has been working since the 1990s to protect and restore the Atlantic forest and water resources of the Rio Doce valley in Brazil. The Italian-Brazilian conductor Simone Menezes is passionate about the Brazilian composer Heitor Villa-Lobos and his symphonic poem Floresta do Amazonas; for which she created a suite for large orchestra and soprano. Together they travel the world to present an exhibition of Salgado's photographs; combined with concerts conducted by Simone in which the photographs are projected; the photographer having associated each musical phrase with one of his images…The music of this monumental project has been recorded with the Philharmonia Zürich and soprano Camila Provenzale. Ten photos by Salgado; each more striking than the last; are included in the booklet that accompanies this recording; which is completed by another tribute to Amazonian nature; by Philip Glass; with an extract from his Aguas da Amazonia.

Tenor Reinoud Van Mechelen concludes his trilogy dedicated to hautes-contre with "Legros; Gluck's haute-contre". Joseph Legros (1739-1793) was a singer at the Paris Opéra; renowned for his extraordinary musical abilities; wide range and brilliant high notes. “His contemporaries appreciated the fact that his vocal delivery was not forced and that his taste was less mannered than that of his predecessors. His pronunciation was perfect and his face pleasing; although he did not cut a graceful figure and his stage acting left something to be desired” writes Benoit Dratwicki; of the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles; which is a partner in this series... Legros sparked renewed interest among modern composers for the haute-contre voice. The first to write for him were La Borde; Trial and Berton. Then came Gossec (Alexis et Daphné) and Grétry (Céphale et Procris). In 1774; Gluck's arrival in Paris marked a turning point in Legros's career: he made a name for himself in Orphée et Eurydice; caused a sensation in Iphigénie en Aulide and Iphigénie en Tauride... The title roles in Amadis de Gaule by J. C. Bach and Piccinni's Atys were the last roles in which he shone. After Legros; the haute-contre voice gradually disappeared; giving way to that of the "true tenor"; a more powerful voice; but one that had difficulty tackling the high register of the old repertoire...

For her first recital, Juliette Journaux evokes the figure of the Wanderer: a wayfarer, a traveller, a man who walks alone, without apparent purpose. He confronts a Nature that is beyond him and his deepest thoughts. The wanderer's drifting is also inseparable from the dream, the acceptance of a dilated time. Musically, one immediately thinks of the worlds of Schubert, Mahler and Wagner... Another aspect of this project is Juliette Journaux's passion for transcription. In tackling the difficult task of transcribing vocal or orchestral works for solo piano, she draws on her knowledge of the orchestra and the operatic voice thanks to her three masters degrees in piano, vocal accompaniment and voice direction from the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Paris... The album opens with Schubert's Lied Der Wanderer in a piano transcription by Liszt, followed by his three Klavierstücke D.946; then comes her transcription of Mahler's last two Lieder eines fahrendes Gesellen, full of pain and sorrow. She also evokes Wagner and his opera Siegfried where Wotan becomes the Wanderer. The farewell and renunciation of the world that is the Abschied from Mahler's Song of the Earth concludes the programme.

REVIEWS:

Enhancing the appeal of pianist Juliette Journaux’s first recital is the concept she used to shape its selections into its nearly hour-long form. In using the figure of the wanderer, a nomad walking alone with no apparent goal or destination, as a guide, she’s sequenced works by Liszt, Schubert, Wagner, and Mahler into an epic travelogue. As a result, the Romantic self-questioning and angst of the prototypical wanderer dovetails seamlessly with the inwardly probing character of the material and lends the recording a satisfying arc and design.

Making the project even more special, the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Paris graduate doesn’t simply perform piano works created by others but for the most part plays personalized transcriptions of the material.

Recorded in October 2022 at Cultural Centre Gustav Mahler in Dobbiaco, Italy, Wanderer Without Words includes two pieces by the great Austrian composer, Journaux transcriptions of “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” from Rückert-Lieder and “Der Abschied” from Das Lied von der Erde. Augmenting the Mahler selections are a Liszt piano transcription of Schubert’s “Der Wanderer,” Wagner’s “Mein Schlaf Ist Träumen” (from Siegfried), and other Schubert settings. The journey begins, aptly, with Schubert’s “Der Wanderer,” our protagonist setting out in the hope that his journey will bring answers and resolution. As tormented as that traveler is Wagner’s Wotan, whose questions to the all-knowing goddess Erda are met with confounding riddles.

In notes included with the release, Journaux clarifies the difference between reduction and transcription. She says of her Wagner transcription that it’s primarily based on the principle of reduction, “a concentration of all the elements of the orchestral score into two staves that can be played with two hands.” Whereas reduction aims to retain in pianistic form as much as possible of the orchestrated original, transcription, in her view, is a more personal interpretation of the score in that the transcriber might choose to bring greater attention to certain aspects of the work than others. She writes, “When Liszt faithfully adapts a Beethoven symphony for piano, he is making a reduction; when he arranges a Schubert lied for ten fingers with great freedom of writing (arpeggios, octaves, even re-harmonizations), he is making a transcription.”

“Der Wanderer” finds our protagonist embarking on his journey with determination and resolve, his steps guided by the conviction that answers to his questions will materialize and allowing himself moments of rapture as he confidently makes his way. That alternately serene and dramatic statement’s followed by Wagner’s “Mein Schlaf Ist Träumen,” it similarly oscillating between episodes of tenderness and violence. The focus returns to Schubert for the three-part Drei Klavierstücke, the chorale-like “Allegro Assai” first tempestuous and then lyrical, the subsequent “Allegretto” gently pretty in its reminiscing but also turbulent, and the closing “Allegro” rousing and buoyed by optimism. With “In Der Ferne,” a Journaux-transcribed lied from Schubert’s Schwanengesang, the album moves into its second half and shifts the thematic focus to renunciation, specifically renunciation of the self.

In one of the album’s strongest performances, Journaux imbues her gentle reading of Mahler’s “Ich Bin Der Welt Abhanden Gekommen” with a poetic intimacy that reflects a thorough grasp of the material and emotional connection to the composer’s sensibility. The seven-minute performance creates the impression of the wanderer having temporarily stopped moving to wholly surrender to an inner reverie. That peaceful quality carries over into the final Schubert setting, “Wandrers Nachtlied II,” both pieces setting the stage for the closing movement of Das Lied von der Erde, “Der Abschied.”

Journaux’s musicianship and performances...are stellar from start to finish. This exemplary pianist brings virtuosic command to the pieces but even better a thoughtful and sensitive sensibility that allows her to probe the material deeply, whether it be Mahler, Schubert, or Wagner. It’ll be interesting to see where her next venture takes her.

-- Textura

The pianist Lukas Geniušas has recorded the original version of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Sonata no.1 in the composer’s Swiss home Villa Senar (Sergei & Natalia Rachmaninoff) and on his own piano, an unusually long Steinway & Sons model, presented to the composer and concert pianist by the manufacturer to mark his sixtieth birthday. The difference between the original version of Sonata no.1 and the second version, shorter by more than 100 bars, is not just a question of length, according to Lukas Geniušas: ‘There is a lot lost between the first and second editions. I know it goes against the grain, but I would name this sonata to be one of, if not the best Rachmaninoff’s solo piano work. Its shattering might, its splendor and scale can only be likened to the Third piano concerto, which was written soon after.’ The programme is completed by four preludes from the Op. 32 set.