Liliana Stawarz presents a program of Bach’s French Suites. Liliana graduated in 1988 from the Fryderyk Chopin Academy of Music in Warsaw (the harpsichord class of Władysław Kłosiewicz). Two years later she gained a diploma from the Conservatoire à Rayonnement Régional de Rue-il-Malmaison, where she studied with Huguette Dreyfus. In 2012–2016 she served as Deputy Dean of the Department of Instrumental Studies and Musical Education and as a coordinator of the Concert Bureau at the Białystok branch of the Fryderyk Chopin University of Music in Warsaw. She is currently a Professor at the Fryderyk Chopin University of Music and Head of its Interdepartmental Faculty of Early Music. For twenty years she was a member of the Il Tempo Early Music Ensemble which focused on instrumental and vocal-instrumental music from early Baroque to the Classical period. She made numerous recordings for radio, recorded five albums and participated in prestigious early music festivals with Il Tempo, in Poland and abroad (Bruges, Brussels, Utrecht, Moscow, New York, New Brunswick, Rome, Berlin). In 2018 she received the Fryderyk Award of the Polish recording industry in the category ‘CD of the Year – Early Music’ for a live recording of Antonio Caldara’s oratorioMaddalena ai piedi di Cristo, released by Polish Radio.

REVIEW:

From the outset, you can hear Lilianna Stawarz seeking out the poetic in this fine recording of Bach’s French Suites. Tempi are judged nicely but tend towards measured consideration rather than helter-skelter drama, and slower movements such as the opening Allemande and that gorgeous Sarabande in the Suite No 1 are given plenty of expressive touches. Rubato flexibility is a feature of the playing here, but while it may take a moment to acclimatise in terms of style Stawarz’s sensitivity and skill is what makes this, to my ears at least, a recording to which one warms.

The recording itself is nicely balanced, the instrument placed in an ideal acoustic and with plenty of brightness and detail, but by no means in a sound that is fatiguing to the ear. Christopher Hogwood’s Decca recording is rightly held up as something of a classic in harpsichord versions of this music, but his instrument is more needle-bright and has been recorded in a relatively small, dry acoustic. If you prefer something a bit more lush and luxurious, then Lilianna Stawarz’s very personal accounts may do you very well indeed.

– MusicWeb International

The mandolin reached prominence as a solo instrument in the 17th century when it began to appear in operas and oratorios, and in chamber and solo repertoire. Amongst the most prominent composers for the instrument were Niccolò Ceccherini and Pietro Cappellini, masters of polyphony. But it was Filippo Sauli’s Sei partite, composed for the four-course mandolin, that constitute a body of work unique in early 18th-century mandolin repertoire – a kaleidoscopic digest of different styles and influences that combine French and Italian traditions in music of exquisite taste and expressive beauty.

REVIEW:

The Six Partitas by Filippo Sauli, who flourished in the late 17th and early 18th centuries, are clearly the centerpiece of the program presented here. Most have short opening movements, usually preludes, some as short as 19 seconds! One can hear the standard suite movements in various orders, and the partitas often end with minuets. Notable is the short Prelude to the 4th partita, with crystalline arpeggiated chords that shimmer brightly.

Ferella’s playing is deft and musical, with clear articulation and a stylistic sense of each dance, not to mention excellent intonation and tone, and is recorded well with a realistic mandolin sound and reverberation.

All in all, this is very enjoyable.

— American Record Guide (Jim McCutcheon)

“Specializing in unknown repertoire, cpo is now serious about uncovering yet another veritable treasure:” this is what klassik-heute wrote of Vol. 1 of our Wind Overtures by Telemann. This master of all musical trades was also active and extremely successful in the field of Harmoniemusik – the compositional genre for wind ensembles entrusted with military, hunting, and table music. The wind version of the work known as the “Alster Overture” heard along with other works on Vol. 2 is regarded as a model example of this artistic philosophy of Telemann’s. However, what is a more important key to the significance of the work is the knowledge that the movements following the overture are practically to be understood as an audio instrumental preview of the serenata composed by Telemann and going along with them. In this overture suite the “musical artist” presents to our ears highly atmospheric sound depictions of Hamburg and what were then its country surroundings, through which the Alster River flowed. Even the singing swans majestically gliding along the Alster are represented in a wonderfully beautiful sarabande. At the end there is a spirited gigue in which shepherds, hunters, nymphs, and Pan, as it were, gather together again in order to conclude the musical preview anticipating the serenade.

Fortepianist Keiko Shichijo presents a radically fresh view of Mozart's keyboard music. Neal Peres Da Costa, Professor of Historical Performance at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music writes: "Keiko Shichijo has been inspired to reimagine a Mozart that is highly expressive, rhetorical, and even occasionally volatile." Shichijo's brilliant Mozart was recorded on an original Frère et Soeur Stein d’Augsbourg à Vienne dated 1802. Mr. Da Costa calls the instrument "absolutely ravishing in sound, with a clarity, crispness, and resonance that is ideally suited to Mozart’s piano writing." Keiko Shichijo is a special voice in both the Classical and new music worlds. Her traditional Japanese sensibilities combined with her knowledge of European historical performance practices shape her unique vision, and this is reflected in her feeling for the music, the instruments and the story behind them.

Although Paderewski is more readily associated with his career as a legendary virtuoso pianist, his modest output of 70 orchestral, instrumental and vocal works deserves to be more widely known. Prominent among his vocal output is a series of early songs that reveal natural flowing patterns while exploring both melancholy and folk idioms. The Douze Mélodies, written at the end of his compositional career, is the most original and striking Polish set of songs of the period, notable for dissonance, chromaticism and a palette of rich and unusual musical colors, to which this orchestral arrangement adds a whole new dimension. Little known, the early Suite in G major offers youthful warmth and brio.

In the first third of the 18th-century, Prague was a major music centre, with Italian operas and concertos, French suites, Italian and German oratorios being performed in the city, and the local churches striving to acquire the latest and most virtuosic compositions. Šimon Brixi was one of the most distinguished composers who drew inspiration from this thriving culture, while creating highly inventive music of his own. He mainly wrote liturgical pieces, yet few of them have survived. Brixi gained great acclaim for his musicae navales for the popular Saint John of Nepomuk Festivities in May on the river Vltava. Although he did not publish his scores, Brixi was a renowned composer and his music was frequently performed. Copies of his works were possessed by, among others, Jan Dismas Zelenka. Brixi mastered all the styles and techniques of his time, ranging from rigorous counterpoint to elements of the nascent Galant style. The works are arranged on the album in a one-day liturgical arch, with the morning mass followed by litanies and the canticle Magnificat from vespers, which owing to it's style and high technical requirements may bring to mind Zelenka's music. Made up of superlative soloists, Hipocondria Ensemble bring back to life Šimon Brixi's overlooked works. Their recording of the Magnificat is the first made on historical instruments. / Šimon Brixi - a composer whose music deserves a second life after three centuries.

Although Robert Schumann’s public role in the Bach revival is less well known than that of Felix Mendelssohn, Bach’s music would play an influential effect throughout his life. Schumann would in turn, arrange and perform many of Bach’s works including adding piano parts to the Solo Violin Sonatas and Cellos Suites and trumpets to the St. John Passion! In 1843 he and Clara rented a custom-made pedalflügel - a dreadnought of an instrument combining a Friedrich Wieck grand piano with a pedal keyboard that enabled Schumann’s to play Bach’s organ music at home. During one of his periodic bouts of depression, Schumann became gripped by what he called Fugenpassion and shortly thereafter his obsession with Bach would blossom in the Canons and Fugues of Opp. 56 and 58. The curious name of this album references Carl Nielsen’s advice to fellow composer Ture Rangström, namely, to get down to the roots of a piece so that it would truly flower. And so following Nielsen’s advice, acclaimed organist Jens E. Christensen, a master of styles ancient and modern, dug deep to uncover the roots of Schumann’s imagination for this truly extraordinary program, a lovingly cultivated German-Danish, Piano-Organ, Baroque-Romantic hybrid, that will no doubt become a perennial favorite for fans of Schumann’s most florid contrapuntal creations.

That globetrotting composer Camille Saint-Saëns wrote La Princesse jaune in 1872, exemplifying the current craze for all things Japanese. Kornélis, played by the tenor Mathias Vidal, dreams only of the Land of the Rising Sun. Under the influence of a hallucinogenic potion, he becomes infatuated with Ming, a fantasy princess. His cousin Léna – the soprano Judith van Wanroij – despairs of this passion and does not dare to confess her own feelings to Kornélis, who eventually comes to his senses. The running time of this opera enables us to offer a coupling in the shape of a previously unrecorded version of Saint-Saëns’s six Mélodies persanes, thus extending the guiding thread of a yearning for exotic horizons in another direction. Leo Hussain conducts the Orchestre National du Capitole de Toulouse in both works.

REVIEW:

With La Princesse jaune, Saint-Saëns, his librettist Gallet and the co-directors of the Opéra-Comique, who commissioned the opera, were attempting to take advantage of the Parisian vogue for the Orient, in particular Japan and its art and culture (the craze was known as japonisme). Gallet made a rather unlikely choice: he placed the Japanese-themed story in a Dutch town, in a room converted to an artists’ studio. There are just two characters. An overture is followed by arias and duets, all interspersed with spoken dialogue. Spoken word may be off-putting but the little there is – a few minutes all in all – integrates seamlessly with the sung text.

The story concerns Kornélis, a Dutch doctor fascinated with Japanese culture. His young cousin Léna is in love with him. Under the effects of a hallucinogenic drug, the fixated Kornélis falls in love with the subject of a portrait, a Japanese princess named Ming. His perception of reality is profoundly distorted. He believes Léna is Ming inhabiting a fairy-tale land. The potion wears off and Kornélis returns to reality. He yields to the charms of the despairing Léna and takes her in his arms.

Kornélis is sung by lyric tenor Mathias Vidal, who specialises in French and Italian roles. He clearly relishes this repertoire, and is well suited to Kornélis’s arias. He puts his sonorous tone to splendid use, with fine diction, projection and vitality. In the air J’aime, dans son lointain mystère (I love, in its different mystery) with its gently rocking accompaniment, Vidal increases the atmospheric mood as he extols to Léna the glories of Japan, a paradise he dreams of. Another highlight is the solo described as Kornélis’s vision: he drinks the potion and gazes at the portrait of Ming, imploring the image to come to life. At this key moment, Vidal provides all the necessary tenderness and a heartfelt sincerity.

Dutch soprano Judith van Wanroij is a convincing Léna. I have encountered her previously in mainly French Baroque opera including Lemoyne’s Phèdre on Bru Zane (review). She sings with plenty of character the air Outsou Sémisi Kamini when Léna finds a poem that Kornélis wrote to Ming. In her high range, Wanroij’s tone hardens slightly; I generally prefer a warmer soprano tone. In the second air Je faisais un rêve insensé (I was dreaming a foolish dream), there is suitable emotion and a pleasing honesty as Léna realises that Kornélis has fallen in love with a portrait.

Another highlight is the delightful and affecting duet Ah! Quel nuage d’or s’ouvre (Ah! what a golden cloud). Drugged, Kornélis believes that Léna is Ming who has come to life, and expresses his love. An unnamed women’s vocal ensemble adds to the mood: they sing a short passage in Japanese, just once.

The narrator is the soprano, and a French native speaker, Anaïs Constans. (Spoken word has been omitted in the Chandos recording of La Princesse jaune from 1996 at Lugano with soloists Carlo Allemano and Maria Costanza Nocentini and the Orchestra della Svizzera italiana under Francis Travis – review.)

A yearning for oriental and exotic vistas continues in Saint-Saëns’s six Mélodies persanes (Persian Melodies). Late 19th-century Parnassian poet Armand Renaud was attracted to Persian and Japanese verse. His collection of poems Les Nuits persanes (Persian Nights) was published in 1870. It is easy to imagine how Renaud’s verse would have inspired Saint-Saëns; that same year he set six of the poems for voice and piano. In 1891 he orchestrated Mélodies persanes for solo voices, chorus and orchestra. He also took the opportunity to ‘reorganise’ them into a Symphonic Ode or Cantata with the title Nuits persane by connecting the orchestral songs with “orchestral preludes and transitions and added a spoken narration with passages of melodrama”.

Bru Zane presents a new version, which strips away the choral contribution but adds an orchestral prelude and interlude taken from Nuits persane. It has been decided here to allocate a different soloist to each mélodie. I definitely respond to the exotic tone-pictures in this new guise. I savour Renaud’s imaginative if flowery text and the composer’s glorious setting. A stand-out: La Brise (The Breeze) sung by Philippe Estèphe in a hearty, rich-toned baritone; one relishes the exotic rhythms as the girl gives the sultan a special dance watched by the eunuch. Another highlight: the exquisitely beautiful Au cimetière (In the graveyard) sung by Anaïs Constans; she demonstrates her accomplished high register and produces a meaningful expression as the protagonist sitting at the warrior’s grave.

Leo Hussain conducts the Orchestre national du Capitole de Toulouse. They play impressively, with a fine balance between accuracy and expression. There also are a number of outstanding solo contributions. As shown on a promo video clip, the studio sessions at the Halle aux Grains in Toulouse were made under Covid-19 protocols: face masks when appropriate, social distancing and so on. No problems whatsoever with the satisfying recorded studio sound. As one has come to expect from the Bru Zane Opéra français series, the presentation of this CD-book maintains the label’s highest standards. The hardback book in French and English contains the full opera libretto, synopsis and four valuable essays, plus the texts of the Mélodies persanes.

I had been unsure of Louis Gallet’s libretto with just two characters. Yet La Princesse jaune has far exceeded my expectations. In a performance as notable as this, Saint-Saëns’s short opéra-comique is highly recommended, and the glorious Mélodies persanes are a bonus.

-- MusicWeb International

Camino is guitarist Sean Shibe’s first PENTATONE album, an introspective programme exploring French-Spanish musical borders, a pilgrimage leading from Ravel’s Pavane pour une Infante défunte, Satie’s Gymnopédie No. 1 and Gnossiennes 1 and 3, Poulenc’s Sarabande, De Falla’s Miller’s Dance and Homaje, pour le Tombeau de Debussy and José’s Pavana triste all the way to Mompou’s Canços i dansas 6 and 10, as well as his Suite compostelana.

Shibe has deliberately granted Mompou a central role on this album, as his music demonstrates that melancholy, aimlessness, and a whole host of other feelings are not things to be avoided or fixed or solved, but experiences to be felt deeply: not with sad nostalgia, but with genuine wonder and excitement at what this means for the future. In that respect, Camino also documents Shibe’s personal quest to overcome the challenges of a time dominated by COVID-19, and to ultimately see the world anew.

Multi-award-winning guitarist Sean Shibe brings a fresh and innovative approach to the traditional classical guitar, while also exploring contemporary music and repertoire for electric guitar. Camino is the first fruit of an exclusive collaboration with PENTATONE.

REVIEW:

Guitarist Sean Shibe has been known for daring programming, and an album of Spanish guitar music might seem a retreat to normalcy, but this is not the case. Shibe devises a program that brings in a wide variety of effects and moods and executes it all flawlessly. The program is both constantly shifting and entirely absorbing, and any stereotypes of Spanish music the listener may have will be gone by its end.

-- AllMusic.com (James Manheim)

2021 marks the 100th anniversary of the premiere of the silent film The Kid directed by Charlie Chaplin. On this occasion, the Ludwik Sarski Orchestra has released a unique album - a tribute to Chaplin's oeuvre inspired by that film. The artists were simultaneously watching the film and recording their parts while working in the studio, as a result of which the music contained on the album smoothly follows the image. The album The Kid is a suite with film music, in the style of early jazz, jazz waltzes, ragtimes, and very emotional pieces; it faithfully reflects the nature of the scenes contained in the film and perfectly conveys the atmosphere of silent cinema. The Ludwik Sarski Orchestra is an artistic collective founded by two multi-instrumentalists and composers: Damian Szymczak and Piotr Tomala. The artists combine such styles as early jazz, ragtime, tango, swing, or klezmer. The ensemble successfully performs in Poland and abroad. The activities of the Ludwik Sarski Orchestra include chamber concerts and live performances of their original music to silent films by Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, Roman Polański, Aleksander Hertz, and others.

Our second album with music for strings by British composers features most highly creative compositions by Sir Granville Bantock and Christopher Wilson. When Bantock reached the pinnacle of his fame, the Three Choirs Festival held in Hereford in 1912 ordered a work for string orchestra from him. The result was the four-movement Serenade for Strings, to which he assigned the subtitle “In the Far West.” Bantock’s string movements are distinguished by an impressive tonal richness. After the performance Douglas Bostock remarked: “I am truly amazed – this is anything but a ‘Serenade,’ as the innocuous title suggests. The succinct, symphonically developed music is nothing other than a string symphony with a demanding writing style representing a genuine tour de force.” Moreover, extensive recorded material documents the Scottish melodies used by Bantock in his Scenes from the Scottish Highlands. For them he chose the finely managed format of three fast dances separated by two euphonious slow movements. The six short movements in traditional or dance style forming Christopher Wilson’s Suite for String Orchestra made it something new and fresh when it was premiered in 1901, and it came over very well. It is thought that one of the composer’s goals was to connect with the tradition of Johann Sebastian Bach.

Concerto Copenhagen, the Danish National Baroque Orchestra, has developed into one of Scandinavia’s leading Baroque orchestras and has earned its place in the front ranks of the world’s most fascinating and innovative orchestras of this kind. The orchestra now turns to Johann Sebastian Bach’s famous Orchestral Suites. Although extensive research has been conducted for many years, it is not known when the suites were composed. Today everything indicates that the suites were written much earlier than is assumed and then merely had to be adapted to Bach’s new Leipzig circumstances. It is therefore not unusual for them to be performed – as on this recording – without timpani and trumpets. Although the especially popular third suite is a ceremonious, sumptuous work, the material contributed by the wind instruments is hardly of considerable significance. The suite enjoys a top ranking on the charts of Bach’s most attractive and best-loved works. Some of his most popular melodies can be found in their movements. Suite No. 2 in B minor ends with the immensely famous flute solo of the Badinerie (a “joke” comparable to the Italian “scherzo”) frequently employed on television as a signature tune. Here the Johann Sebastian Bach we encounter is not the one who quests for deep spiritual knowledge or probes hidden aspects of the human soul. On the other hand, he rarely wrote mellower, more uplifting melodies or simpler, more elegantly designed dance rhythms than in these twenty-four movements brimming with magical variations, atmosphere, and rich color.