D. MATTHEWS Three Studies, op. 39. 15 Fugues . Winter Journey • Peter Sheppard Skærved (vn) • TOCCATA 0152 (60:48)


It would be hard to imagine a better way for those interested in David Matthews’s compositions for solo violin to immerse themselves in them. Peter Sheppard Skærved’s collection offers performances by the violinist for whom Matthews wrote the pieces, as well as extensive notes (to read booklet notes accompanying Toccata’s releases will in itself, for many, be to experience ultimate immersion) by both composer and performer.


As Matthews himself relates in the notes, Skærved’s program opens with the Three Studies he wrote as a test piece for the 1986 Carl Flesch Competition. Skærved considers this the most straightforward work he’s included. Playing the 1698 Joachim Stradivari, he soars in the high-tessitura passages of the first study; but in the second—more agitated, more dissonant, and less centered tonally—he sets foot in another expressive world. The third begins skittishly but settles into wandering passages that again rise up high in the instrument’s registers. But the journey is beset by strong, visceral interjections that rely on tremolos for the potency of their effect.


The 15 Fugues that follow form an integral set; and both the composer and the violinist note that all non-contrapuntal episodic material has been extruded. Although the composer considers the First Fugue’s style neo-Bachian, listeners may hear more of Béla Bartók’s Solo Violin Sonata in it than anything of Johann Sebastian Bach’s. (The theme itself comes from a four-note pattern in the fugal Finale of Mozart’s String Quartet, K 387.) The harmonies of the Second and Third fugues bear affinities to the shifting tonalities of Eugène Ysaÿe’s Solo Violin Sonatas. Matthews identifies the Third Fugue as pastoral, and the voices of both Bach and Ysaÿe emerge fleetingly from its passages. Each of the fugues bears a dedication to one of Matthews’s friends or associates, and the notes trace these connections, at times citing correspondence that gives the dedicatee’s reaction to the work dedicated. Matthews even constructed the theme of the Fifth Fugue from the letters of two friends’ first names, although nothing in either the theme or its working out seems in the least artificial. The Sixth Fugue, composed as a wedding gift ( Allegro festivo ) showcases Skærved’s strong rhetorical flair for this music; while the Seventh, played pizzicato throughout, recalls Ysaÿe’s statement of the Dies irae at the beginning of the third movement of his Second Solo Sonata, although this statement’s more rigorously polyphonic (Skærved notes that Matthews had heard him play only the Fourth of Ysaÿe’s sonatas). Matthews based the Seventh of the fugues on the song of a blackbird he heard at his mother’s house. The Eighth, more dissonant and more polyphonic at the same time, recalls again the most severe moments in Bartók’s Solo Sonata. The Ninth may sound violinistically ungrateful in its center, but it resolves into a conclusion laced with harmonics. Both Matthews and Skærved note that the 10th Fugue, the first in order of composition, started its life as a tentative response after the composer had heard the violinist play Bach’s First Solo Sonata. Skærved, having tried the first page of Matthews’s offering, encouraged the composer to complete it, then asked for more—thus the complete set. The 13th Fugue, tremolo, exploits a device that Bartók also used, though in a much more limited way, in the opening of the Finale of his Solo Sonata; it also features a second half that inverts the first—a trick that delighted Renaissance and Baroque composers and that 20th-century composers adopted with considerably greater rigor. Here, the effect hardly seems at all unnatural, perhaps due in large part to the ardor of Skærved’s advocacy. The 14th Fugue calls for the G-string to be tuned to F?, the dominant of the Fugue’s key of B minor. The last Fugue, dedicated to Matthews’s wife, concludes the set with a warmly glowing tribute.


Winter Journey , a work of substantial length (13 minutes) brings the program to a conclusion. According to Matthews, it’s autobiographical and bears traces of Schubert’s cycle Die Winterreise , although the composer also claims to have had the sound of Bach’s Chaconne in mind. At times mournfully improvisational, the work explores what some may consider a wider range of emotions than do the fugues, diverse as they may be. The force of Skærved’s musical personality (and the composer’s) may emerge perhaps fully in this multifaceted work, coherent and strongly narrative (at least emotionally) through all its slashing dissonance.


The engineers have provided the entire program with a most flattering showcase. But anyone who has the slightest interest in David Matthews’s work should find everything about the production illuminating, while violinists and more general listeners should find in Winter Journey a musical ocean in which they might swim virtually forever. Very strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Beautiful works in magnificent performances and recording.

In his booklet notes David Matthews admits his interest in traditional forms; and his present output includes seven symphonies and eleven string quartets (with a twelfth in progress). Stylistically, too, he admits to being a tonal composer “attempting to integrate the musical language of the present with the past and to explore the rich traditional forms”. Although his music remains rooted in some broad 20 ^th century tradition, it nevertheless breathes fresh air into it, so that the music remains contemporary.
 
The String Quartet No.4 Op.27 is by far the most substantial and the most ambitious of the three recorded in this first volume. According to the composer, it is also “the closest [I] have come to the classical archetype”. The first movement is a short prelude with a more dramatic section. This is followed by a lively, often capricious Scherzo at times reminiscent of Tippett. The ensuing movement is a song without words, ending with another Scherzo-like section revisiting material of the preceding movements “as if in a dream”. The final and longest movement opens with a dramatic, declamatory cadenza for each instrument in turn climaxing with a repeat of the dramatic episode from the first movement. It ends with a slow, quiet coda.
 
The short Adagio Op.56a composed in memory of Peter Fuller, a friend of the composer, not only forms the basis of the Sixth String Quartet’s slow movement but also provides material for the outer movements. The slow movement, thus, presents a more developed working-out of the Adagio and is much more varied in mood. Sudden angry outbursts briefly disrupt the predominantly mournful mood of the music. The outer movements are again in a more or less traditional sonata form with two contrasted subjects.
 
The much later String Quartet No.10 Op.84 was mostly composed in Australia. In his booklet notes the composer explains how he noted the songs of four Australian birds (an Australian magpie, an Australian cuckoo Koel, a Pied Butcherbird and an Eastern Whipbird). The songs of these birds were used in a work for solo violin Munro’s Song composed for Peter Sheppard Skærved, the Kreutzer Quartet’s first violin. This work was rewritten as the first movement of the Tenth String Quartet which the composer conceived as “a little dawn chorus”. The use of metal practice mutes creates a beautiful mysterious effect. The second movement is “a dance for the morning” in which all four birds join again. The music briefly pauses for a slower section based on Munro’s Song. The coda restores the opening tempo and the movement ends calmly with “the familiar falling third of the European cuckoo call, bringing the music back to this side of the world”.
 
Each of these string quartets in its own way clearly demonstrates Matthews’ fresh approach to the medium. Incidentally the same might be said about any of his symphonies. The writing for strings is superbly realised and the memorable and often beautiful thematic material considerably contributes to one’s enjoyment of the music.
 
The Kreutzer Quartet’s polished and committed readings are a joy from start to finish and are superbly rendered by Toccata’s natural, warm recorded sound. This very fine release is a most welcome addition to David Matthews’ growing discography. I hope that the forthcoming instalments will be released soon.  

-- Hubert Culot, MusicWeb International

The ability of record companies to spring surprises on the public is always pleasant, and here Toccata Classics gives us the opportunity to hear what must be one of the very first American symphonies. Leopold Damrosch is almost unknown nowadays, but his son Walter was for many years the principal conductor of the New York Philharmonic, and the father himself also conducted that body giving the American premières of the Brahms First Symphony and the Berlioz Requiem. Damrosch left Germany for the USA in 1871 and remained there for the remaining thirteen years of his life, during which time he wrote this four-movement symphony; but he never heard it played, and it remained unpublished and in manuscript until 2005 when it was finally edited for performance. This recording was made immediately following the première on 8 February 2015, and it reveals a fascinating if uneven work.

It is unfortunate that the disc begins with the Festival Overture written immediately before Damrosch’s departure for America and dedicated to Georg II, the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. The booklet note discerns some influences of Wagner, especially Die Meistersinger; but any Wagnerian overtones are less than immediately apparent, bearing comparison (if at all) to some of the overblown marches that Wagner wrote for cash towards the end of his career. The tone is unremittingly loud and overblown; and that impression is reinforced by a closely observed recording in a claustrophobic acoustic which serves only to emphasize the thick brass writing and Damrosch’s reliance on busy string figuration which sometimes fails to achieve an ideal balance, shading into pure decoration. After the symphony the disc concludes with Damrosch’s orchestration of Schubert, a piece which the booklet informs us was popular with American audiences during the composer’s lifetime, but which rarely rises about the workaday.

No, the real piece of interest on this disc is the unpublished and previously unperformed symphony, and I mean no disrespect to the young players here when I say that one can imagine a better case being made out for the work. I have already noted the claustrophobic acoustic — like a confined broadcasting studio. We should also note the questionable balances which bring out the heavy brass at the expenses of the strings (and especially the violins), although these are not as serious in the symphony as in the more stridently scored other items on the disc. The playing is not always impeccable — there appears to be a split horn note very near the opening of the first movement, or at least an appoggiatura which fails to sound convincing — and although one can hear that the violins are working hard and achieving commendable degrees of accuracy they remain overshadowed by the sonorous trumpets and trombones. The woodwind playing, on the other hand, is superbly executed and well observed by the recording. Add to this the committed conducting of Christopher Russell, and booklet notes which are both informative and substantial, and we have here an issue which is of rather more than purely documentary interest. I am amazed that the composer’s son failed to program the symphony with the New York Philharmonic when he was their conductor – maybe he was unaware of its existence – but its revival is decidedly welcome. Perhaps American professional orchestras might care to look at it now that Azusa Pacific have broken the trail.

The conductor’s own booklet essay makes much of the parallels between the music of Damrosch and that of Wagner and Brahms, but the echoes seem to me to be much closer to Bruckner especially in the more atmospheric pages. The opening quiet string tremolos conjure up a definitely Brucknerian feel, and the episodic construction of the rest of the movement also has traces of that composer — but would Damrosch have heard any of the symphonies? The short second-movement Intermezzo is charming; and the solemn march of the third movement builds to a tremendous climax, crowned by a stroke on the gong, and including some positively manic episodes. After this lengthy movement, the most extended in the symphony, the finale is comparatively brief and conventional. As I have already observed Christopher Russell, whose explorations of rare repertory have included first American performances of symphonies by Havergal Brian and Robert Simpson, clearly relishes the music and manages to make it cohere even when it is at its most waywardly rhapsodic.

One more minor cause for complaint in this disc is the ridiculously short breaks between individual tracks – not just between movements in the symphony, but at the beginning and end of that work as well. The result is that the atmospheric slow introduction sounds almost like an odd sort of continuation of the raucous Festival Overture; and even more seriously, the arrival of the Schubert arrangement comes as a real shock immediately after the closing bars of the symphony’s finale. The listener will need to stand by the pause button at these points, but otherwise Toccata’s presentation is impeccable. This label’s restless exploration of the outermost fringes of the repertory is always fascinating, and the Damrosch symphony here deserves rather more than polite intellectual interest.

– MusicWeb International (Paul Corfield Godfrey)

Georgiy Eduardovich Conus (1862–1933) is one of the astonishing number of gifted Russian composer-pianists who helped shape what is known as the ‘Silver Age’ of Russian music, but whose achievements have since been obscured by the music of Rachmaninov and others. This first-ever recording of his piano music reveals a composer with his roots in Tchaikovsky, a harmonic sophistication akin to Skriabin’s and an emotional range that stretches from an easy-going charm to dramatic and powerful keyboard virtuosity. Jonathan Powell has established a reputation as one of the most fearless pianists currently active, spending his concert seasons touring blockbuster piano works. In the past decade he has presented the cycle of Scriabin’s ten sonatas in single concerts, Messiaen’s ‘Vingt regards sur l’enfant Jesus,’ Albeniz’s ‘Iberia,’ Beethoven’s ‘Hammerklavier’ Sonata, Reger’s Bach Variations, and more. This is his sixth recording for Toccata Classics.

The Portuguese piano virtuoso, composer, and Liszt pupil José Vianna da Motta (1868–1948) made a number of transcriptions of Charles-Valentin Alkan’s keyboard works to foster their performance, arranging eight of the organ Prières for solo piano and some of the music for pédalier – the obsolete pedal-piano – for piano duo and duet. +Vincenzo Maltempo (b. 1985) is one of the few pianists ever to perform the complete set of Alkan’s Douze Études, op. 39, in a single concert.

Although the highly original music of Charles-Valentin Alkan (1813-88) is now becoming familiar, his equally individual transcriptions have yet to be systematically documented in recordings. Alkan published a series of three albums of transcriptions which have never before been recorded in their entirety; this release is the first in a pioneering project to do just that. This CD presents his complete Mozart transcriptions, the composer whose music Alkan transcribed more than anyone else's. Pianist Jos� Ra�l L�pez examines Alkan's art as a transcriber in the booklet's extended essay.

The piano works of Charles-Valentin Alkan (1813–88) are among the most demanding ever written – but they can also gleam with a fierce joy and twinkle with mischievous humour, so it’s hardly surprising to find his works for piano duet bubbling with freewheeling energy. The two works for pedal piano – transcribed here for two pianos by Roger Smalley – show a more solemn side to this devoutly religious composer, though they, too, have their own charge of excitement and Alkan’s trademark eccentric originality.

The Austrian composer Walter Bricht (1904-70) was one of many musicians of Jewish ancestry who fled Vienna after the Anschluss for the safety of the USA; Bricht became a valued professor at Indiana University in Bloomington. Fittingly, it is the nearby Fort Wayne Philharmonic, in its own debut recording, that has made the first album of Bricht’s music. The recording reveals another major Viennese voice and points to yet another potentially important career cut off in the bud by the Nazis. Bricht was reportedly Franz Schmidt’s favorite student, and the late-Romantic styles of the two men are indeed very closely aligned in their mix of Baroque counterpoint, Classical form and Wagnerian chromatic harmony: Bricht’s Symphony in A minor might almost be Schmidt’s No. 5.

Will be one of my discs of the year without doubt.

I have to admit to this being the disc I have most eagerly awaited hearing for some months. That being the case I am delighted to be able to report that it has fulfilled all my expectations if not exceeded them – let us all hope that the titling of this as ‘Volume 1’ really does augur well for an extended series of discs by this unique composer.
 
In recent years there has been a steady trickle of Brian’s orchestral works appearing on CD but when you dig a little deeper it becomes clear that these are in effect re-releases of performances where the originals date back some years. So in fact it is nearly ten years since the last ‘new’ recording – Psalm 23 on ClassicO [recorded 2002], then back into the 1990s for the abortive Marco Polo/Naxos ‘Brian Cycle’, the 1980s for EMI’s brief flurry of interest using the RLPO, and the 1970s for the Leicestershire and Hull Schools Symphony Orchestra’s brave traversal of several discs with Unicorn-Kanchana and CBS. This is by no means a complete survey but it gives you a sense of the piece-meal attempts to commit Brian to disc.  

Toccata Classics are proving to be valiant disciples of the Brian cause both on disc and in print. Recently I had the pleasure of reviewing the superb Havergal Brian on Music: Volume Two which Toccata have published. Both that project and this have been instigated under the watchful eye and guiding hand of the Havergal Brian Society and Brian expert Malcolm MacDonald. As part of the book review I commented - has ever a composer been so fortunate in their biographer / promoter as Brian with MacDonald? His knowledge, insight and understanding of this shamelessly idiosyncratic composer is little short of stupendous. That sense of dedication suffuses every element of this recording from the fascinating choice of repertoire on this well programmed CD to the fine engineering supporting excellent playing from the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra.  

I have to admit that I have not heard any of this music before so I have no frame of reference with which to compare the current performances. Suffice to say there is an air of ‘rightness’ and conviction that is vital to bringing off this often quirky music. Having read the two volumes of Brian’s critical writings has only increased my appreciation of him as a composer. I have a suspicion that even among his more famous composer contemporaries he was the most knowledgeable about the latest developments in the musical scene. His journalistic writing shows him as an enthusiastic supporter of an extraordinarily wide and diverse range of then contemporary music. This, to my mind, adds significantly to his stature as a composer in his own right for instead of producing a mish-mash of musical influences his own work remains strikingly independent. It is well-known that he was largely self-taught as a composer but the choices he makes; structurally, harmonically or melodically are never made through ignorance instead they are guided by a quirky individualism. And therein lies the rub for the listener new to his sound-world; it can often seem that musical material is juxtaposed in a random and almost obtuse manner. Here is where Malcolm MacDonald proves to be such a valuable guide. Whether in this liner or in his definitive 3 volume study of the Brian Symphonies he makes it clear that in what might initially seem ramshackle and even chaotic there is actually a very sophisticated control of form and structure. Brian is dancing to a different tune and it can take the listener some time to ‘hear’ his message. Conductor Garry Walker has become fully attuned to the Brian idiom. As mentioned before these are strikingly confident and convincing performances – orchestras are phenomenally skilled these days but to project such security and conviction as is heard throughout this disc requires those exact same qualities to be projected from the conductor’s podium. It is rare indeed that such complex and demanding music is first heard played as here and it adds considerably to the positive impact of the disc. On the evidence of this disc Walker proves himself to be an interpreter of distinction.

Another remarkable thought is the fact that the works performed here span an astonishing 65 years. The earliest work is the 1903 Burlesque Variations on an Original Theme. Never performed in Brian’s lifetime this is its first professional performance. But why? Some Brian can be tough to digest on first sitting but not this work – it has instant appeal. Written when Brian was 27 it represents his first effort at large-scale orchestral composition. He scored the work for a large romantic orchestra with triple wind, standard brass – but including four trumpets – extended percussion, two harps and organ. Lasting some twenty-five minutes and consisting of a theme and seven variations this is a well balanced and fascinatingly wide-ranging piece. Yes there are moments where the orchestration feels opaque and indeed clumsy but these are repeatedly offset by passages of remarkable power, mystery and beauty. Why Burlesque Variations? – MacDonald offers a fascinating opinion; variation form recurs often in Brian’s works and usually he chose to take a banal/simple tune and then expand the seemingly limited potential of that melody beyond all expectation. Hence the Fantastic Variations of 1907 – based on ‘Three Blind Mice’ or The Symphonic Variations of 1916 – based on ‘Has anybody here seen Kelly?’ are just two examples. It is as if Brian is trying a kind of alchemy transforming the base material of a simple song into musical gold. Yes, the influences are often clearer here than in later Brian and clearly Elgar provided a model but I am pushed to think of any other work by a twenty-seven year old British composer from around the turn of that century of such confident quality. Although I know others will disagree I find Josef Holbrooke’s music to have an empty bombast and reliance on musical effect to which Brian never resorts while York Bowen is interesting and appealing but never challenging in the way Brian is. The closing pages of these variations do try to lift the simple tune onto a grandiose level which is beyond both the melody and the composer (at this stage in his career) but elsewhere there are brilliantly achieved musico-dramatic effects. Try Variation 2 – Tempesto and the simply gorgeously poignant Variation 3 – Elegy that follows. The latter is the emotional heart of the work and opens as a gently regretful valse triste very much in the style of the Nedbal or Sibelius works of that name before building to a powerful strenuous climax way outside the remit of those pieces. The return to the reflective opening is typical Brian in the rapid change of emotional direction before he builds it back to a climax of cinematic splendour. Subtle it is not but hard the heart not to be moved on some level – I love it. Curiously the London publisher Bosworth published the suite which contains Nedbal’s work in 1903 and it became the composer’s biggest hit. But the similarity is one of form nothing more. But it does point up another fact worth considering here; Brian’s music never sounds “English” in the pastoral sense of the word. More ‘stout and steaky’ than ‘cowpat’.

Chronologically, the next work on the disc dates from exactly fifty years later. How typically perverse of Brian in austerity Britain to produce a work that by title alone would seem to belong to the light music world of Edward German or Percy Fletcher. For sure this is lighter music than much of Brian’s output but it has far more substance and muscle than the bulk of the light music repertoire. Not that it is at all in tune with the prevailing trends in 1950s contemporary music either. Again, one has the abiding sense of Brian writing music that suited himself when it suited him. This proves to be another piece of instant appeal with the heart of the work being the second movement Reverie. Throughout the whole work and the orchestral writing – angularly expressive but with awkward parts for solo instruments and some thrilling brass scoring – there is a scale and sweep that is very impressive. Clearly this is not meant to be a work uttering the profoundest thoughts and feelings of the composer but it does show the confidence and expertise with which Brian handled his resources. I would suggest ignoring the titles – I couldn’t help wondering if Brian has used such deliberately twee and diminutive headings in a provocative and ironic manner. Here is another curious parallel – the central pair of movements are scored first for strings alone – the aforementioned Reverie, and then wind and horns - Restless Stream. Vaughan Williams did much the same in his almost exactly contemporaneous Symphony No.8 – although the wind scherzo comes first before the string Cavatina. Not that we can accuse Vaughan Williams of any kind of plagiarism – Brian’s Suite was not to be heard for twenty years (neither can the accusation be reversed – the Vaughan Williams was not premiered until 1956). The closing Village Revels is also the final music on the disc – again ignore the title, this is quite unlike any revel I can imagine but it provides an exciting conclusion to all the works here.

MacDonald explains Brian’s recurring use of the term Elegy to describe movements or individual works. This was the title ultimately given to a 1954 composition originally called A song of sorrow. Brian renamed it some sixteen years later when reassessing his back catalogue with a view to publication. The rationale being that the original title implied a kind of emotional one-dimension that does not encompass the full range of this very impressive work. MacDonald points towards a definition that encompasses both the classical laments of Ovid and the romantic poetic works of Goethe and others. As a critic Brian wrote enthusiastically about Busoni and MacDonald sees a link with such works as that composer’s Nocturne Symphonique or the Sarabande and Cortege. But influence or inspiration is all this link should be seen as. Again Brian has produced a work as striking in its individuality as its expressive power. Jagged and rugged energy courses through this work. There are more of the typical Brian Symphonic fingerprints here, a sense of a restless quest the music searching and unstable. Yet at the same time there is an underlying feel of something grand and ceremonial. MacDonald sees it as a long slow struggle from C minor to the light of C major. Elsewhere on the disc I am a little uneasy about Brian’s penchant for almost hyper-active percussion writing. By my reckoning the percussion should point a moment in the score – dynamic alone need not be a factor – for Brian there seems to be a percussive ‘happening’ in nearly every bar. But here, massed side-drums set against tip-toeing xylophone creates some rather special effects. Again I have nothing but praise for the bravura confidence of the playing of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. There is some truly thrilling brass writing here dispatched with total aplomb. Much as I enjoy the discovery of the Variations on this disc if I had to choose one work to represent Brian it would be this Elegy. As this represents its first recording I would suggest that that alone is enough to merit buying this disc.

My only relative musical disappointment on this disc was with the Legend: Ave atque vale which opens it. In its own right it is remarkable because it is the work of a ninety two year old man. The title which means ‘hail and farewell’ is taken from Catallus’ poetic elegy to his drowned brother written in about 56 BC. MacDonald describes it as being ‘crammed to bursting point with disparate ideas’ which is a sympathetic way of saying perhaps it has not been edited or structured with as much discipline as earlier works. To my ear – given that this is NOT a judgment borne of extended familiarity – it sounds too rambling and disparate in its elements. Here the percussion has an absolute field day throughout without really justifying their continuous presence in musical terms. Possibly this is the kind of work that Brian’s detractors might single out as showing his weaknesses. However, it has the great good sense not to outstay its welcome and by representing just seven minutes of over an hour of vintage Brian no collector need hesitate on this piece’s account. On a positive note it does act as an extraordinary tribute to the undying vitality and individuality of Brian to very end of his long life.

Hopefully, it will be clear by now that I consider this a very special disc – exactly the kind of high quality combination of rare repertoire, performance and technical presentation that collectors hope for. For those as yet unfamiliar with the Havergal Brian I think this could act as an excellent introduction. On the recent Testament release of the famous Boult/BBC performance of Brian’s legendary Gothic Symphony the disc concludes with an interview with the composer where he underlines the fact that he wrote music with little or no expectation of hearing it performed. Instead he was responding a personal creative imperative that could not be denied. How gratified he would be to know that finally his music is beginning to receive the attention is deserves. A Volume 2 from this same team is essential and this current disc will be one of my discs of the year without doubt.

  -- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International

Although Alexandre Boely (1785-1858) is best remembered as an important Parisian organist-composer, his piano music is as good as unknown. Yet it is an important link between the Baroque and Classical worlds of eighteenth-century France and the emerging Romanticism of the nineteenth. This recording, on an Erard piano from 1853, highlights both it's Classical poise and it's Romantic charm. It reveals Boely as a forerunner of composers like Saint-Saens, whom he taught, as well as other piano pioneers such as Alkan, Chopin and Liszt, all of whom this prominent Parisian musician and teacher may well have known personally. Stephanie McCallum is Associate Professor in piano at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music of the University of Sydney, where she herself studied with Alexander Sverjensky and with the noted Liszt player, Gordon Watson. After advanced studies in England with the Alkan authority Ronald Smith, she made her Wigmore Hall debut in 1982. She has appeared extensively as a soloist in Australia, France and the United Kingdom. Her recording of the complete Alkan 'Recueils de chants' for Toccata Classics was received with universal praise. She followed them up with a Toccata Classics album of piano music by Guy Ropartz.

BEN-HAIM String Quartet No. 1, op. 21. String Quintet in e • Carmel Quartet; Shuli Waterman (va) • TOCCATA 0214 (61:37)


   Here are two major chamber works by the Israeli composer Paul Ben-Haim (1897–1984), who began his career in Munich as Paul Frankenburger. His lengthy, three-movement String Quintet from 1919, which receives its first recording here, is a representative product of the composer’s early period. Its style might be described as early-20th-century German Romantic with leanings toward Franck and Liszt. It’s an ambitious, expertly scored, three-movement work, though its material might have been equally effectively scored as a symphony. There’s a somewhat Modernistic, Hindemith-like approach to the announcement of themes in the outer movements, before the music moves into nostalgic, 19th-century material reminiscent of Brahms or Mahler (Mahler’s work serving as Frankenburger’s model when, later on, as Ben-Haim, he turned to symphonic writing). In the quintet’s third movement, the music’s eclecticism starts to feel contrived, particularly with the commencement of a fugue two-thirds of the way through, a 19th-century compositional cliché. This is not to make light of a piece that contains much beautiful music, particularly an eloquent slow movement that quotes a theme from one of Frankenburger’s songs set to a Christian Morgenstern text.


Frankenburger/Ben-Haim immigrated to Palestine in 1933, in large part rejecting German musical style in favor of the influence of Debussy and Ravel, but more significantly, incorporating regional folk influences into his music. His close association with the Yemenite singer Bracha Zefira, a “walking anthology of Israeli folk music,” was his main source of inspiration.


The String Quartet No. 1, composed in 1937, was acclaimed at its premiere in 1939 as the first chamber work by an Israeli composer. The work remains popular in Israel, and it’s easy to hear why. The dimensions of its first three movements are more compact than those of the quintet, and the use of modal, ethnic-sounding motives sounds natural and eloquent in the first, third, and fourth. Toccata’s booklet notes compare the quartet’s fourth movement to the Finale of Shostakovich’s Piano Trio No. 2, composed seven years later. In both works, the finale is the most extended movement, and in each, a Jewish dance theme takes on a sense of catastrophe by the end. It’s an apt comparison, though the Ben-Haim Quartet doesn’t achieve (or attempt) the shattering impact of the Shostakovich.


I commend Toccata Classics for the high level of its presentation of two little-known works of very high quality, by a composer who, while hardly unknown, deserves much more attention on recordings. The Carmel Quartet and violist Shuli Waterman play with the technical polish that these colorful, dynamic scores demand, along with obvious commitment and feeling. The recorded sound has good definition and clarity, and the booklet offers two substantial essays by experts on Ben-Haim.


FANFARE: Paul Orgel

Lively and touching Beethoven voiced for the piano and viola.

This CD is the first in one of Toccata’s many series – almost as many as Naxos. This one is Beethoven by Arrangement.
 
As far as we know Beethoven, himself a violist, completed no works for the viola as principal instrument. The absence of a local viola virtuoso or at least a viola commissioner might well have been the reason. Others stepped into the breach.
 
This disc documents their arrangements. Before doing so it documents the 27 second torso of a Viola Sonata he began but never completed. It’s typically assertive and lively. Paul Silverthorne who is the guiding mind and hand behind this project arranged the compact three-movement Horn Sonata. It was written originally for the celebrated horn-player Giovanni Punto. It works rather fluently with its pulsingly dynamic and tenderly noble outer movements framing a mournfully captivating little Poco Adagio. Karl Kleinheinz was a contemporary of Beethoven and turned his musical skills to bear on two works for string trio: the opp. 8 and 25 – the latter arranged for flute. The seven movement Serenade for String Trio op. 8 became the Notturno for viola and piano. It’s in the mood and manner of Mozart’s cassations and serenades with witty movements alternating with more pensive and serious ones. The Allegretto alla Polacca is especially attractive. Friedrich Hermann, a pupil of Mendelssohn at Leipzig, did the same service for the much arranged Septet op. 20 – here appositely dubbed the Grand Duo. It’s an even more extended work at forty minutes than the Notturno this time across six movements. The music is from the high watermark of Beethoven’s early period and rewards close attention as well as casual overhearing. After much profundity the finale’s Marcia and Presto end proceedings with gleaming-eyed cheer and urbane confidence. Intakes of breath can be distracting but I only really noticed them from Silverthorne in the Andante segment of the Grand Duo’s finale. Silverthorne’s playing on the Amati viola is impassioned and completely in-style. David Owen Norris is always not merely reliable but ready with apt and lucid playing; so it proves here.
 
The liner-notes are by Paul Silverthorne who is Principal Viola of the London Symphony Orchestra. I recall him as the violist who premiered the Thea Musgrave concerto in 1991. He was also the violist for the very late Rozsa Viola Concerto recorded by Koch International circa 1998. Toccata Press have Silverthorne’s Beethoven Edition comprising the Grand Duo and the op. 17 Sonata in preparation. Violists will be pleased and so should their audiences.
 
The recording was made on a Viennese Blümel piano (1865) and a Brothers Amati viola (1620).
 
Lively and touching Beethoven voiced for the piano and viola. Viola players and the world’s curious Beethovenians will need to have this.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

Woldemar Bargiel was the half-brother of Clara Schumann, and given his interest in music, it is not surprising that he became part of the Schumann circle. His compositions were described as pale copies of the great composers, including his brother-in-law, which is perhaps unkind but not entirely unjustified. His later works resist the pull of the late-Romantics, such as Mahler and Strauss, looking to Brahms and back to Beethoven, Haydn and Schubert.

My first encounter with his music was fairly recent, as part of my survey of piano trios. Trio Parnassus have recorded his three piano trios on two MDG CDs, which are now difficult to obtain. You can obtain readily them as downloads, but they do not come with a booklet. I am generally resistant to this situation, especially where the composer is little known, but the samples of the trios that I heard were sufficiently encouraging to persuade me into a purchase. As far as I can tell, this is the first review on this site of Bargiel’s music.

The Prometheus overture was written while Bargiel was studying at Leipzig Conservatory. There is little doubt that it owes much to Beethoven’s similarly named overture, though Liszt’s tone poem Prometheus may also have had some influence. At over eighteen minutes, there is no doubt that it stretches its material too far, but it does have some splendid melodies. The orchestration is not as interesting as the other works presented here.

The premiere of Overture to a tragedy was conducted by Bargiel’s teacher, Julius Rietz, and led Hans von Bülow to write “Bargiel can claim the highest rank among Schumann’s followers after Joseph Joachim”. It was originally titled Overture to Romeo and Juliet, but changed before publication because it simply doesn’t have the emotional depth suited to the play. It has stylistic links to Schumann’s Manfred overture, but is a fine work in its right.

The Medea overture was his big success, with numerous performances around Germany and further afield, and led to his appointment as director of the music school in Rotterdam. The booklet links it to Schumann, though I more hear Mendelssohn. It builds from an ominously quiet opening into a series of increasingly dramatic surges, separated by short darkly lyrical moments. Personally, I prefer the Overture to a tragedy, but I can understand why it was so successful in its time.

The Symphony, with the exception of the second movement, is very much a case of “spot the influence”. The first movement, is very, very Beethovenian: imagine a blend of the fifth, sixth and seventh symphonies. Some of the melodies sound as though they are direct borrowings. The slow second movement is fortunately more original, though it does include what could be construed as a funeral march. It has a number of quite beautiful melodies, and some very appealing orchestral colours from the woodwinds and horns, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The Menuett that follows might be mistaken for an abandoned Schubert piece, while the final Allegro molto owes much to Haydn, though as reorchestrated by Beethoven. Lest I sound too critical, it is worth bearing in mind that Brahms, only five years younger than Bargiel, had not completed his first symphony by this time, and when he did, there was obvious homage to Beethoven in it as well.

In its early days, Naxos was known for using journeyman orchestras from eastern Europe, but even they didn’t go as far as Toccata has done recently, with a number of recordings based in the Siberian city of Omsk. The orchestra goes by two names: the the Omsk Philharmonic Orchestra at home (and on their website) and the Siberian Symphony Orchestra abroad. The performances are well beyond serviceable – I very much doubt we are likely to get another recording of these works soon, but it would take one of the top orchestras to make much more of this music.

The booklet is written by Dean Cáceres, who has written a biography of Bargiel, and hence provides comprehensive and informative notes. The sound quality is excellent, the delicate orchestral colours well defined and the climaxes imposing.

– MusicWeb International (David Barker)

The track from this album was nominated for the 2008 Grammy Award for "Best Chamber Music Performance."

FARWELL Dawn, op. 12. Tone Pictures after Pastels in Prose, op. 7. Polytonal Studies, op. 100: Series II. Mesa and Plain, op. 20/2: Pawnee Horses • Lisa Cheryl Thomas (pn) • TOCCATA 0222 (65:03)


I reviewed Volume One of this Farwell series in Fanfare 36:5, where I gave background details for this composer and concluded with the statement that the second volume was awaited with enthusiasm. Here it is, full of delights. Lisa Cheryl Thomas provides excellent and detailed booklet notes. Farwell’s op. 12 Dawn (1902) reflects the importance held by Native Indians for the rising of the sun. Here Farwell quotes two melodies from the Nebraska Omaha tribe. It is played with great affection and confidence by Lisa Cheryl Thomas. The recording captures her lovely round sound well; it also supports the levels of detail she finds, and her clear mastery of voice-leading.


The nine movements of Tone Pictures after Pastels in Prose (1895) are inspired by prose poems of Theodore de Barville, Baudelaire, Charles Bernard, and Judith Gautier. Quotations are included in the helpful booklet, along with descriptions of the music. The decidedly Chopinesque third piece (“The Stranger,” after Baudelaire) is most effective, with a left-hand singing melody that seems evocative of the cello (the booklet rightly links it to Chopin’s Étude op. 25/7). Thomas brings the sort of adult knowing to childhood wonder that makes one posit she would be an excellent Kinderszenen interpreter to this music, particularly perhaps “Indifference to the Lures of Spring” (after Gautier). There is indeed a marked spirit of reflection through most of these pieces, a mood that Thomas captures to perfection. Her right hand cantabile is particularly attractive.


The arrival of the Polytonal Studies, composed between 1940 and 1952, brings a marked change in style. It also continues on from Volume One, which presented the first 11: here is Nos. 12 through 26. The more progressive harmonic language seems to draw depth from Farwell’s pen. There is a delicious Stravinskian tinge to the B-Minor/G-Minor (No. 14), a sort of two-part of invention, a trait that recurs in the D-Minor/E-Minor (No. 16), although here the music seems to strain to return to a purer Bachian mode of expression. The C-Minor/E?-Minor (No. 15) has a reflective quality that almost at times tends towards the blues. The more extended studies last around five minutes, and in the case of No. 18 (F-Minor/F?-Minor), this results in a miniature tone poem. The grand No. 19 (G-Minor/B-Minor) comes as a surprise. The opening implies a full scale transcription of a Bach organ prelude and fugue (although true fugue-like writing only arrives in No. 21, the B?-Minor/G-Minor): Thomas in her notes posits links in No. 19 to Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev (and indeed a Russian tinge creeps in as the music progresses).


Native American rhythms (and harmonies) permeate the final offering, “Pawnee Horses” (1905). It seems as if though piece acts as summary of the heart of Farwell’s music, and makes the perfect close to the disc.


FANFARE: Colin Clarke