Following up his recording of Britten’s Cello Suites, Daniel Müller-Schott is now exploring other areas of the repertory opened up by the legendary Mstislav Rostropovich. The Symphony for Cello and Orchestra was his first major work after the Cello Sonata of 1961.

REVIEW:

Having already given us Britten’s three cello suites, Daniel Müller-Schott here turns his attention to the composer’s Cello Symphony, putting him in a now four-way contest with Jamie Walton, reviewed by Paul Ingram in 33:1, Pieter Wispelwey, and Johannes Moser, the last two reviewed by me in 34:3 and 35:6, respectively. Britten’s Cello Symphony was not a work with which I was able to claim more than passing acquaintance before I received Pieter Wispelwey’s recording of the piece for review in 34:3. His performance with the Flanders Symphony Orchestra led by Seikyo Kim made a very deep and lasting impression on me. For his part, Moser turned in an equally searing account, though I found the West German Radio Symphony Orchestra Cologne under the direction of Pietari Inkinen not as gripping as the Flanders ensemble for Wispelwey.

Here we have the same West German Radio Symphony Orchestra as on Moser’s Hänssler CD, but under the baton of a different conductor, Jukka-Pekka Saraste. The question is: Can Müller-Schott match or perhaps even surpass Wispelwey and Moser’s intensely focused and emotionally draining performances? And if so, can the WDR Orchestra under Saraste match or surpass the same ensemble under Inkinen? The answer to both questions, I believe, is yes.

As the reader may be aware, Daniel Müller-Schott is one of my very favorite cellists among today’s top performing artists, and he doesn’t disappoint in this outstanding account of both works on the disc. Britten and Prokofiev, of course, present quite different musical narratives—the former, harrowing, hectoring, turbulent, truculent, and tragic, and while finally coming to rest on a major triad, not ending happily; the latter, for the most part, outgoing, sunny, and optimistic.

Alternately known as the Sinfonia Concertante, Prokofiev’s Symphony-Concerto for Cello and Orchestra, op. 125, should, by all rights, be a darker and more depressing work than it is. It dates, after all, from 1951, a time in the composer’s life after he’d returned to Soviet Russia, was in declining health, and was being criticized by the state’s stoolies for writing music that didn’t promote proletarian values. The piece, however, betrays its past in happier days, for the Symphony Concerto is actually a reworking of a much earlier Cello Concerto Prokofiev had completed in 1938, a score bearing the opus number 58.

The pairing of these two works on disc is a bit unusual—I’m hesitant to say unprecedented—but it works well in that each, in a way, is the other’s alter ego. What they have in common, of course, is that both were dedicated by their respective composers to the celebrated Russian cellist Mstislav Rostropovich. For the Britten, I think I’d still give a very slight edge to Wispelwey, whose performance of the piece is emotionally shattering. But Müller-Schott isn’t far behind, and the Cologne orchestra plays better for Müller-Schott under Saraste than it did for Moser under Inkinen. So, if you like this particular coupling, there’s no reason to hesitate. Recommended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Mozart Camargo Guarnieri was the most important Brazilian composer next to Villa-Lobos. Guarnieri’s piano music embodies his most distinctive stylistic features. One of his most beloved works, the Dança Negra shares folk-music inspiration with the Suite Mirim. The Ponteios are characterized by an enormous variety of Brazilian music styles and moods, and the Sonata can be seen as a summary of Guarnieri’s musical personality. Max Barros’s “unfaltering brio and a complete command of the idiom” (Gramophone) can also be heard in Guarnieri’s Piano Concertos (8.557666 and 8.557667).

Recordings from 1973-1982 in newly remastered sound.

Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, conductor: Zden?k Košler

Sergei Prokofiev’s seven symphonies reflect all the stylistic transformations along his artistic path – from a “modernist”, whose works echo the headlong development of music in the first two decades of the 20th century, to the mature creator of Symphony No. 7 (1951/52), characterised by melodiousness and freedom of expression. While the Scythian Suite, with its harshly “barbarian” aggressiveness, is the work of a young innovator, the simple Haydn-like melody treatment and lucid texture of the First Symphony, which the twenty-five-year-old Prokofiev referred to as "Classical", made it perhaps his most frequently performed work, one that anticipated the neo-Classical trend in modern music. Despite Prokofiev’s endeavour to create new “great music” devoid of complexity and accessible to the people, his later compositions were constantly fiercely criticised for being “formalist”.

Zden?k Košler drew attention to his artistry by winning globally prestigious competitions (Besançon, New York), as well as by assisting Leonard Bernstein at the New York Philharmonic. His Prokofiev with the Czech Philharmonic is one of the very first complete recordings of the composer’s symphonic works. - Supraphon

Nearly all of Daniel Purcell’s surviving solo harpsichord music consists of arrangements, the only clear exception being the short Toccata, a brief essay in the style of the preludes from Henry Purcell’s harpsichord suites. The Suite is a simple but effective arrangement of movements from the composer’s own suite

Italian Suite

The composer that Casella most resembles in his chameleon-like musical personality is probably Martinu, and this is nowhere more true than in the Partita for piano and small orchestra. Scored for the distinctive combination of oboe, two clarinets, bass clarinet, three trumpets, timpani and strings, the work is an unalloyed delight. Listen to the end of the first movement recapitulation, and you’ll be hooked. Like Martinu’s Sinfonietta giocosa, the lightweight title in fact conceals a work of genuine substance, lasting (in this case) just over half an hour. The central Passacaglia (a form much exploited by Casella) is profoundly beautiful, and its evocative use of trills reveals that Casella learned a trick or two from the first Nachtmusik of Mahler’s Seventh, which he arranged for piano four-hands.

The Introduzione, aria e toccata again recalls (or foreshadows) Martinu–in this case the Toccata e due canzone. Like that piece, this is a substantial, at times brooding work brimming with memorable invention. The music’s stylized, neo-Baroque idiom couldn’t be farther removed from the nearly contemporary orchestral fragments from Casella’s only opera, La donna serpente (The Snake Woman), after a play by Gozzi. These “fragments” are actually pretty extensive, lasting a full half an hour, and if they pay homage to anyone I’d have to mention Rimsky-Korsakov. The Military March that ends the first suite evokes a fairytale atmosphere similar to that of The Golden Cockerel or Tsar Sultan, but there’s nothing Russian about the melodic material, which is completely personal.

This disc marks the conclusion of Naxos’ Casella series, and it has been a wonderful journey. As with the other discs, the performances are excellent. Sun Hee You does a wonderful job in the Partita, offering effortless virtuosity and an aptly light touch. There’s only one other recording available, featuring the very good Joshua Pierce, coupled to concertante works by Respighi and Rachmaninov, but conductor Franceso La Vecchia proves himself more imaginative an accompanist the Anton Nanut, and he also has the better orchestra and engineering. Casella truly was a great composer. The evidence on this disc is incontestable.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This fairytale melodrama was adapted from a book by Algernon Blackwood A Prisoner in Fairyland for a West End theatre production staged during World War 1 with music by Elgar. Based on a new score which has been adapted by Sir Andrew Davis who also here conducts the Scottish Chamber Orchestra this is the most comprehensive recorded version to date. The two-disc set includes the incidental music with narrative by Simon Callow and an extended suite of freestanding orchestral movements and songs.

"Those who love this score as much as Elgar did - and I do - will welcome this new recording. ... All Elgarians must hear this superb set." – Paul Corfield Godfrey, MusicWeb International

"Performance: ***** Recording: **** This is a very valuable addition to the Elgar discography.” – Calum MacDonald, BBC Music [1/2012]

“[L]ovingly played by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra and features the excellent baritone soloist Roderick Williams.” – Andrew Clark, Financial Times [12/8-9/2012]

“Elgar’s score is enchanting – and Davis and the SCO deliver it with evident affection.” – Hugh Canning, The Sunday Times (Culture Magazine) [11/11/2012]

“Davis secures absolutely first-rate results from the Scottish CO. Elin Manahan Thomas’s light silvery soprano could hardly be more suited to the parts of the laughter and Jane-Anne, while Roderick Williams is in glorious voice throughout. Everything has been captured by the microphones with ingratiating amplitude, bloom and glow.” – Andrew Achenbach, Gramophone [11/2012]

"[T]he songs are delivered with just the right lightness of touch by soprano Elin Manahan Thomas and baritone Roderick Williams. ***" – Andrew Clements, The Guardian [10/26/2012]

ELGAR Cockaigne, Op.40. VAUGHAN WILLIAMS Symphony No.5. BRITTEN Four Sea Interludes and Passacaglia from Peter Grimes, Op. 33a and b • Carlos Kalmar, cond: The Oregon Symphony • PENTATONE 5186 471 (SACD: 77:29)


Carlos Kalmar and his Oregon Symphony continue to make valuable inroads into the British repertoire. Their previous disc presented “Music For A Time of War” (5186393) and included Britten’s Sinfonia da Requiem and Vaughan Williams’s Fourth Symphony as well as John Adams’s The Wound-Dresser and Ives’s The Unanswered Question . This latest one takes an overture, a symphony, and an orchestral suite and passacaglia. Elgar’s Cockaigne is an overture in many ways as difficult successfully to bring off as his concert overture In the South . The question of tempo adjustment and relationships, extended incidents, and a binding together of the fabric of the music invariably recur in both, but the profuse episodes in Cockaigne can lead to a degree of sectionality if sufficient structural control is not exercised. Fortunately Kalmar has architecture in sight, though he also seems keen to wring every last drop of sentiment from it too, as he lingers over the music’s most luscious and lyrically inspired section with great fervor. He, like almost everyone—even Adrian Boult—is significantly slower than the composer himself, who left behind two recordings. The first was an early electric of 1926, followed in 1933 by one of his last recordings. Barbirolli’s EMI classic is no less idiomatic than Boult’s—doubtless as a Londoner (as Boult was not) Barbirolli felt an added kinship. But where Kalmar scores is in the vivid SACD sound where one finds, in particular, and spectacularly, that the bass drum really thumps and throbs.


Invariably the names of those two British conductors recur in a program of this sort. But Kalmar is very much his own man and I have a hunch, from the tempo relationships and shaping of the music, that he has listened to Vaughan Williams’s own off-air 1952 performance of the Fifth Symphony, preserved by Somm on CD 071. This invaluable document stands, with the composer’s visceral recording of the Fourth Symphony, as evidence of his conducting abilities in his own music. It’s only in the Romanza that Kalmar relaxes a shade more than the composer, thus vesting the music with an even greater sense of repose, and yet he’s careful not to relax as much as Vernon Handley with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic on EMI or Bryden Thomson with the London Symphony on Chandos, to cite just two of the other available performances. Mono sound apart, Boult’s first recording of the Fifth is unequalled in its sense of expressive balance but for outstanding sonics and a thoughtful and intelligent traversal of the score, Kalmar can be recommended. The Elgar and Vaughan Williams works were recorded on consecutive days during February 2012 while Britten’s Four Sea Interludes and Passacaglia from Peter Grimes were taped over three consecutive days in May of the same year. These are projected with clarity and an evocative tension that suits the music very well. The Passacaglia is placed immediately before the Storm, thus allowing the program to end on a Presto con fuoco . The live recording is very fine though there are the inevitable corollaries, such as coughs and one very brief but unfortunate contribution via what I think is a cell phone. It’s a minor point. The performances themselves are very fine.


FANFARE: Jonathan Woolf

HOLMBOE Sonatas for Guitar: No. 1; No. 2. Five Intermezzi for Guitar. Duo Concertato for Violin and Guitar. Parlare del più e del meno. Canto e Danza for Recorder and Guitar. Seven Folk Ballads for Recorder and Guitar • Jesper Sivebæk (gtr); Johannes Søe Hansen (vn); Bolette Roed (rcr) • DACAPO 8.226143 (71:20)


Danish composer Vagn Holmboe began writing for the guitar late in his career, at the age of 70, and then continued to create works for the instrument for another 13 years. It’s not clear what drew him to the instrument. He said little about it other than to comment that he wanted to write for it, and so he did. He first composed more formal works—two sonatas—to avoid folk associations. Each is a suite of thematically related pieces, worked out in the organic way that he typically developed his material, and very concise, especially the second of these. Folk qualities were impossible to avoid, however, as a quick listen to almost any of the works here will demonstrate. Still, this is hardly Holmboe taking up “light music” at the end of his life, for there is much complexity and sophistication of invention, as well. The Five Intermezzi , which followed two years later in 1981, are of a similar character, but the composer is starting to actually embrace the folk connections, using a folk-like melody of obvious Spanish flavor as a unifying theme, and adding characteristic rhythmic percussive effects and shifting meters as well.


In 1983, he went further with Seven Folk Ballads , employing actual folk tunes from England, Israel, France, Ukraine, and his native Denmark. The original intent was to create duos for balalaika and guitar, but eventually the composer opted for the more complementary sound of the recorder. The setting of each tune, beginning with the familiar The Three Ravens from England, captures the character of the folk melody with simplicity and grace. In the Duo Concertato for Violin and Guitar (1986) the violin adds an Eastern European quality as the two instruments engage in a witty and sometimes dramatic conversation. In the last solo work, the introspective Parlare del più e del meno (1988), the conversation becomes a monolog, internalized in five very short movements of great density, rhythmic freedom, and centered calm, while the last chamber work for guitar, Canto e Danza , written in 1992 when Holmboe was 83, is a set of variations on a Spanish harvest song, in three contrasting movements, followed by a lively baroque dance movement which sounds like the work of a much younger man. His exploration of the instrument was thorough, to say the least.


The stylistic rather than strictly chronological structuring of the CD program, working from the more serious sonatas to the encore-like folk ballads, works beautifully. The performers, all outstanding Danish musicians, capture the delicate personality of each work perfectly, most especially guitarist Jesper Sivebæk. The engineering is first-rate, with a palpable sense of those performers in a real space. There are fine notes on the music. The music has charm and substance. I really can’t think of a better way to invest 70 minutes, whether for heart or head.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

This is the fourth volume in Chandos’ series devoted to the music of the Polish composer Witold Lutosławski. Described by Gramophone as a ‘veritable dream team’, Edward Gardner and the BBC Symphony Orchestra perform Symphony No. 2 and the Little Suite, and are joined by Paul Watkins as the soloist in the Cello Concerto and Grave.

DAVID Salon Duett, Op. 25. Suite, Op. 43. 12 Salon Pieces. 3 Impromptus en forme de Valse • Stephan Schardt (vn); Philipp Vogler (pn) • MDG 903 1774-6 (SACD: 76:00)


Violinist Stephan Schardt and pianist Philipp Vogler present works for solo violin (the Suite, op. 43) and for violin and piano (the rest) by Ferdinand David, perhaps best known as the violinist who collaborated with Felix Mendelssohn on that composer’s E-Minor Violin Concerto. The first of these, a Salon Duett , takes the form of variations on a song by Eduard Haase. The variations reveal a composer of idiomatic, and at times virtuosic, works for his instrument (the frequent double-stopping and sprightly bowings—Schardt claims to have followed the originals as closely as possible—stand worlds apart from the more chaste part in Mendelssohn’s concerto). Schardt’s notes cite an appreciation of David by his student August Wilhelmj, who ascribed to his teacher the honorable intention of reconciling Nicolo Paganini’s virtuosity with classical compositional principles. That same virtuosity recurs in the 11-and-a half-minute, four-movement Suite for Solo Violin (Menuett, Gavotte, Siciliano, and Gigue), clearly based on the solo compositions of Bach. As in the Duett , Schardt plays with brilliant agility, crisp articulation, and sharp wit, bringing the energy of period performance (Schardt served for a time as concertmaster of Musica Antiqua Cologne) to these technically complex works. If many of the movements hearken back to Bach, the third, a Siciliano, pours newer melodic wine into the older master’s bottle, and the fourth, introduces chunky double-stops into the dance form. If violinists don’t follow Schardt’s lead and add this work, as many have now done with Johann Georg Pisendel’s, to their repertoires, Schardt’s high-spirited and brilliant performance can hardly be to blame.


The 12 Salon Pieces , together constituting about 40 minutes of the program, also seem particularly violinistic, and the composer has taken full advantage of his knowledge of the instrument in crafting these melodically appealing miniatures. But they’re no mere catalogue of violinistic devices: The first two, Praeludium and Scherzo, sound almost like piano pieces by Robert Schumann (one of David’s friends) in their rhythmic verve and melodic outlines. The syncopated Tanz continues in the previous piece’s zesty vein (Schardt and Vogler re-create for the listener a sense of its exhilaration). David balances a Romanze (with a virtuosic middle section), with a faster-paced Rondo, and follows it with Ballade—the ordering of the suite’s movements make it digestible as a whole as well as in its parts. The duo imparts a strongly urgent forward motion to the Lied and rhythmic drive to the Marsch. They lend a jaunty air to the Impromptu and a more sober, academic one to the Canon (at least in its earlier moments). In this last, Schardt draws an especially rich and commanding tone from the lower registers of his instrument. Finally, a piquant reading of Ständchen leads to the final piece, a more exuberant Capriccio. Especially for violinists, but for many other listeners as well, this suite of character pieces may stand out from the period’s general (and occasionally tedious) production as both idiomatic and ingratiating. The recital comes to a close with three impromptus “in the form of a waltz.” The notes point out some of the novel effects David achieved in these, such as, in the first number’s middle, the violin playing an extended E in various octaves and the piano shifting the harmonies under it before resuming the main waltz. In the second waltz, the duo evokes a more melancholy mood; they’re headlong in the third.


Violinists, aficionados of the violin, as well as historians and general listeners, should find this program, its clear and rich recorded sound, and its enthusiastic and, at times, scintillating, performances highly appealing. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

This unusual album begins with archival recordings, in excellent sound, of the Russian-born composer-pianist Tcherepnin (1899–1977) playing some of his most memorable piano music. The 2nd part of the CD, performed by the Russian pianist Shilyaev, presents a selection of attractive, rarely heard works from various periods in Tcherepnin's career.

REVIEW:

As the only composer to have done significant work in all 5 UN Security Council nations—Russia, Britain, France, China, and the USA—it is unsurprising that Willi Reich, in his biography called Alexander Tcherepnin a ‘musical citizen of the world’.

Piano Sonata No.1 began life as No. 14 but Tcherepnin destroyed vast amounts of his juvenilia; not that you’d ever guess that this sonata was written by someone so young it is so incredibly self assured, an assurance which will have come from all the works he had previously composed. It is a fabulously rich piece of writing with a theme that emerges in the first movement that would have been worthy of Liszt. This sonata and the Op. 85 piece are played by the composer himself showing his complete mastery of the instrument both technically and compositionally.

Incredible as it may seem for such a prolific composer his second sonata had to wait 42 years to be written. The first movement is fascinating, alternating between lento and animato while the second, marked andantino is wistfully beautiful. The final animato has the sonata finally disappear mid-phrase.

His Quatre Préludes Nostalgiques from 1922 come next, the first of which creates an air of mystery. The second is a quiet interlude before the third’s tempestuoso lives up to its name. The last one is a mixture of sadness and grandeur.

The final work on the disc played by the composer himself is a little 1½ minute cracker with almost all the notes coming from the piano’s lowest register. At this point pianist Mikhail Shilyaev takes over showing how gently he can caress the keys which is what is required with the first of his contributions Moment Musical from 1913, when the composer was only 14, and is its first recording.

From 1918 to 1919 we have another first recording, Tcherepnin’s Petite Suite. This is full of delights. Rondo à la Russe from 1946 is “Russian” as it is supposed to be but interestingly Tcherepnin otherwise rarely shows his origins in his music though sometimes he does remind one of Rachmaninoff or Prokofiev. Entretiens composed over a ten year period from 1920 to 1930 is in ten parts, all of them showing the composer’s inventive flair. One of the recurring ideas in his music is the evocation of bells as with the final piece from the set.

Tcherepnin enjoyed fun as much as being serious and this is amply demonstrated in the little Polka from 1944. Scherzo from 1917 has elements of both Prokofiev, Tcherepnin’s idol at the time, and Rachmaninoff, though much harsher in sound to his lushness, though it begins that way. The set of 10 little pieces that together form Expressions, dating from 1951, are the only ones played by Shilyaev that are not first recordings and each bears a title rather than a tempo marking. At the Fair brings some Russian elements into play and I was reminded of Stravinsky. Barcarolle is a beautiful and delightful sounding piece and one of the longest on the disc at 3 minutes long; Tcherepnin had an amazing ability to exploit ideas within a tiny time-frame. La Quatrième from 1948-9, the last offering, is another first recording. It’s full of grandeur and the title is a reference to the Fourth Republic in France which heralded its post-war era following liberation. It received its première only in 1959 since it was part of a project by the publisher to have several compositions from immigrant composers of the École de Paris group in a collection that never materialized.

The overall impression one is left with after hearing this disc and others of Tcherepnin’s music is the breadth of his inventiveness; there is never a dull moment and discovering his music has been one of the musical highlights for me this year. As one would expect the tracks recorded this year sound fresher and crisper than those recorded by the composer in March 1965, though to have his own interpretations of those works is so valuable. Tcherepnin showed what a considerable pianist he was while Shilyaev amply shows his interpretive skills with that full range of moods and touches. This is vital for music that can range from a mere whisper to almost cataclysmic thunder.

The booklet notes by Benjamin Folkman are extremely well written, highly informative and contribute towards making the whole experience both enjoyable and memorable. If you have discovered the wonderful world of Tcherepnin’s piano music then this disc is a must for you and, if not, it is a perfect place to start to get to know this fascinating composer.

-- MusicWeb International

CELLOCINEMA • Eckart Runge (vc); Jacques Ammon (pn) • GENUIN 12220 (69:34)


Music by ROTA, WAITS, HERRMANN, PIAZZOLLA, GARDEL, CATALANI, SHOSTAKOVICH, JANÁCEK, DALE, CHAPLIN, MORRICONE


Film music is becoming an increasingly popular genre for classical musicians. In recent months I have reviewed, here and elsewhere, CDs with very similar repertory by the Aquarelle Guitar Quartet, the Austrian Salonists, and violinist Nicola Benedetti. All of them were rather bland and unadventurous, so I was skeptical about the present release. Despite the presence of what I am beginning to think of as “the usual suspects,” (Charlie Chaplin’s “Smile,” Ennio Morricone’s music from Cinema Paradiso , Shostakovich’s Romance from The Gadfly , etc.), Cellocinema is a cut above the aforementioned discs. I think the reason for this is that cellist Runge and pianist Ammon (who worked jointly on the arrangements) do not treat the music with excessive reverence. They are respectful, but they also have a good time with it. They show some imagination. For example, at the start of Bernard Herrmann’s main title for Psycho , Runge’s cello appears to be imitating a yowling cat . . . or is it the wind? But really, just the fact that Runge and Ammon took several sections of Herrmann’s score and arranged them for cello and piano is both funny and exciting. (The Montreal Guitar Trio also has recorded a fantastic arrangement of music from Psycho . I just thought you should know!) A suite of Nino Rota’s music from 8 1/2 is surprising too, and done with an appreciation for the film’s humor, which is both manic and pathetic.


Runge is a most expressive player. While he shows off beautiful cantabile playing in his arrangement of the famous aria from Catalani’s La Wally (the one used in Diva ) and in Chaplin’s “Smile,” at other times he roughs up his tone, or disguises it, “speaking” in a funny or choked voice as if he himself were a movie actor. Ammon is an equal partner in these proceedings, not allowing himself to be upstaged by Runge, but never competing with him either.


The only fault with this disc is the documentation. Herrmann’s first name was not “Bernhard” (I can imagine him screaming over this) and Janá?ek never wrote anything called The Unbearable Lightness of Being , although music of his was used in the eponymous film. The selection included here is the third of that composer’s set of three Fairy Tales , but you won’t know that from Genuin’s track listing or from Runge’s booklet notes. Most of the disc was recorded way back in 2003, but three of the tracks (Tom Waits’s “Helsinki Mood” from Night on Earth , Dick Dale’s “Misirlou” as used in Pulp Fiction , and “Smile”) are from 2012. No explanation is given for the nine-year gap, but you wouldn’t know it was there unless you read it, and of course that is a good thing. Cellocinema is one of those rare birds: a crossover disc that is neither silly nor pandering, and one that reveals that the performers have a genuine affinity for the material.


FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle

Gerard Schwarz and the Seattle Symphony recorded a great deal of music, originally for Delos, now on Naxos. Much of the discography, while good, was ephemeral—yet another disc of standard repertoire—but some of it was really important: symphonies by Hanson, Piston, and Diamond, for example, and this disc. No one much cares today about music critic/composer Deems Taylor’s often charming but conservative music, but his suite Through the Looking Glass, based on Alice in Wonderland, really is worth hearing. If you know John Alden Carpenter’s Adventures in a Perambulator then you know what to expect: good tunes, colorful scoring, and a nice, light touch.

The Griffes pieces are famous, of course, as the works of one of America’s great “might have been” composers. The Poem for Flute and Orchestra is the best known, followed by the exotic Pleasure Dome of Kubla Khan and The White Peacock. These evocative miniatures all point to a major talent, a life tragically cut short at the age of 36. Both here and in the Taylor work the performances are uniformly splendid: extremely well played, and just about perfectly conducted regarding tempo, texture, and balance. Scott Goff plays the flute solo in the Poem with finesse and lovely tone.

The original Delos recordings always were a bit low-level and dull on top, but this one at least has transferred well, once you find a comfortable volume setting. A great disc for collectors of turn-of-the-(20th)-century Americana.

-- ClassicsToday.com

HAYDN The Creation • Martin Pearlman, cond; Amanda Forsythe (sop); Keith Jameson (ten); Kevin Deas (bs-bar); Boston Baroque • LINN CKD 401 (2 SACDs: 96:09 Text and Translation)

I was disappointed in Boston Baroque’s recording of Cherubini’s C-Minor Requiem (Fanfare 30:5), but this Creation has, from its orchestral introduction, an essential rightness—of mood, sonority, drama, and tempo. As with Dinu Lipatti’s Schumann Concerto (the first time I experienced such a feeling), this is the way it should go. Martin Pearlman realizes the work’s character of being very serious yet radiantly joyful. His period orchestra (strings 6/5/4/4/2) has a full measure of both power and tenderness, without having to strain for either. The chorus (7/6/6/6) is magnificent; the opening of “Stimmt an die Saiten” (disc 1, track 11) is so electric that one wants to stand up and cheer. Pearlman’s vocal soloists are each superb, in voice and in delivery; their clean, never ostentatious ornamentations fit this particular work (the florid style of René Jacobs’s soloists is better suited to the more Baroque The Seasons), and they match beautifully in ensemble. The fortepiano continuo is always just right. Above all, the lofty spirit of the whole is thrilling.

The icing on the cake is Linn’s recorded sound, from Mechanics Hall in Worcester, Massachusetts, during October 2011. It is so realistic, so natural, that one might be sitting beside Beethoven at the premiere. Balances are ideal; the chorus is clearly spread from sopranos on the left to basses on the right, and every contrapuntal line comes through. This is Boston Baroque’s first recording for Linn, and it helps explain the vast improvement over its Cherubini. No doubt it is aided by listening on a system of all-Linn electronics (with KEF 104/2 speakers and/or Sennheiser HD 600 head phones). I blamed the Worcester Hall’s acoustics for the Cherubini’s problematic sound; either I was mistaken or Linn’s team, led by Thomas C. Moore of Five/Four Productions, Ltd., has worked miracles. SACD smoothes the sound, lessening the orchestra’s impact, but clarifies the choral lines even more; one has the sensation of almost hearing each individual voice, which is just as it should be. Surround sound restores any lost impact and throws the listener into the performance, a wondrous if slightly unreal effect.

Must there be something wrong? Okay, the side-by-side German/English libretto is in small white print on black pages, making one squint.

I haven’t been counting, but I’ll bet there have been 100 recordings of The Creation. This one stands comfortably at the pinnacle; among its close competitors, Thomas Hengelbrock on Deutsche Harmonia Mundi is sweeter but less dramatic, Neville Marriner’s incomparable EMI soloists steal the show in a modern-instrument performance. In more than six decades of listening, I have found that almost every new recording of any masterpiece brings more doubts, because every performance has characteristics that others lack. About once a decade have I found the recording, one that has everything: Willem Mengelberg’s (Telefunken) Franck D Minor, Otto Klemperer’s 1954 mono “Eroica,” David Willcocks’s “Lord Nelson” Mass, Klaus Tennstedt’s (pirate) live BSO Schubert Ninth, George Szell’s Schumann Second, Riccardo Chailly’s Gurrelieder, James Levine’s Prokofiev Fifth. Martin Pearlman’s Creation joins that list.

FANFARE: James H. North