Almara is an early music ensemble which was founded by Elisabeth Pawelke during her studies at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. The ensemble's musical focus is on the secular repertoire of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Around 1500 Hartmann Schedel (1440 - 1514) was one of the most important polymath of his time. Grown up in Nuremberg as son of a wealthy Nuremberg merchant, Schedel studied liberal arts and medicine in Leipzig and Padua from 1456 to 1566. Being a polymath and a conscientious archivist of his time Schedel collected the contemporary knowledge by compiling a vast collection of books with more than 600 volumes. One of these surviving books is the Song Book bearing Schedel's name. According to sources, Schedel showed no great interest in music. It seems that he wrote down the songs of his compendium primarily out of documentary interest and that with a lasting success as two thirds of the lyrics have been surviving for posterity until today.

CARNAVAL

Cristian Carrara, born and educated in the Friuli region of north-east Italy, has earned critical admiration as one of the most creative composers of his generation. Clarity and directness inform much of his music, as does a sense of mystery, examples of which can be heard on this album. These recent works were composed during 2016-21 and focus on dialogues between a solo instrument and the orchestra. All are strongly narrative in character but as The Devil's Bridge shows, they are also informed by rhythmic vivacity and a rich variety of instrumental colour.

Cristian Carrara is one of the most original Italian composers of his generation. The opera Voci da Hebron ('Voices from Hebron') is set during the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Carrara's expressive depiction of this scenario is one in which fear, anger and incomprehension sit side-by-side with the need for communication, at a time when dialogue is difficult and peace is, at times, a mirage. This land that is home to grief and misunderstanding is also a place in which love can survive and ultimately flourish.

Classical Music

Now in his creative maturity, the Catalan composer Benet Casablanca's has a growing interest in the sensuality of sound. Seven Scenes from Hamlet, one of his best-known works, is a theatrical mosaic of images inspired by Shakespeare' play. The Epigram.

Towards the end of the 19th century a new, home-grown school of instrumental music began to flourish in Italy, bearing fruit over the following decades. Casella's Cinque Pezzi (1920) and Concerto, Op. 40 b (1923), both for string quartet, are two high points of the genre, with the Concerto quickly becoming an international success. Guido Turchi's Concerto Breve, which draws on the models of Hindemith and Bartok, is another significant contribution to the development of the string quartet in 20th-century Italy.

This programme of four colourful, contrasting but complementary works for small orchestra celebrates the lighter side of four twentieth-century Italian composers, centring on Alfredo Casella’s Divertimento for Fulvia, composed for his young daughter. Casella’s friend Gian Francesco Malipiero wrote Oriente immaginario (Imaginary Orient) for a Futurist play by Achille Ricciardi (1884-1923). Franco Donatoni once called his simply-titled Musica (Music) ‘kind of Schoenberg gone a bit neoclassical’ – but also with a great sense of humour – while Giorgio Federico Ghedini’s Concerto grosso is a twentieth-century tribute to both Bach and Beethoven.

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

From mysterious moonlit night to joyous sunlit day, this recording runs the gamut of Alfredo Casella’s huge stylistic range. Notte di maggio (‘A Night in May’), composed in the wake of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, is Casella at his most radical, while the delightful ‘Divertimento’ Scarlattiana finds him at his most relaxed, spicing up themes from Domenico Scarlatti’s keyboard sonatas—in the manner of Stravinsky’s Pulcinella. Between them comes Casella’s Cello Concerto, its style influenced by the ‘baroque magnificence of Rome’, with a finale the composer called ‘the flight of the improved bumblebee’.

Starter question for 10 - can you name any Italian orchestral composers of the early to mid 20^th century? Ottorino Respighi comes to mind, as do Gian Francesco Malipiero, Ildebrando Pizzetti and - thanks in part to those enterprising souls at Naxos - we can now add Alfredo Casella. This recording of the latter’s Symphony No. 1, a world premiere, is just part of a projected series devoted to Casella’s œuvre; the most recent instalment - which includes Symphony No 2 - is available on 8.572414. Naxos have stolen a march on Chandos, who have just released a recording of the latter - coupled with Scarlattiana - featuring Gianandrea Noseda and the BBC Philharmonic (CHAN 10605). And we mustn’t forget CPO, whose contribution to this risorgimento includes the Op. 63 Sinfonia.

At first glance, Casella’s enrolment at the Paris Conservatoire - Gabriel Fauré was one of his teachers - and his admiration for Debussy might suggest strong links with French music of the period. However, the First Symphony, which dates from 1905, doesn’t strike me as particularly Gallic, either in sensibility or sound world; indeed, Casella is quoted in the liner-notes, where he dismisses the work as a potpourri of Borodin, Brahms and Enescu. These influences may be there, but they aren’t striking. Perhaps it’s the Italian band and conductor who are to blame, as they add a touch of southern warmth to this absorbing score.

True, the brooding start to the Lento seems Russianate, but then there’s an arresting lyricism in the strings and an orchestral blush that speaks more of Richard Strauss. As for the Roman orchestra they sound full-bodied and precise, climaxes expanding with plenty of weight and impact. Musically the score may seem a tad threadbare at times, but it’s well shaped and convincingly paced. Initial impressions suggest this is not the youthful indiscretion it first seems; in fact, the Adagio - reprised in the Second Symphony - is rather lovely. After a quiet, rather unsettling theme at the outset there are some melting string tunes - just listen to the passage that begins at 3:44. It really is luminous, heart-stopping music, most eloquently phrased.

The final movement, like the first, is a dark-toned Lento, the grumble of percussion at the start thrillingly caught. And, for the first time, there’s a real sense of nobility, a Wagnerian amplitude if you like, the muted brass simply splendid. Moreover, there’s a momentum here - listen out for that recurring, jaunty little tune - and a firm sense of purpose, which ensures that any structural weaknesses are artfully concealed. Such advocacy augurs well for the rest of this series; indeed, having heard both Noseda and La Vecchia’s accounts of the Second Symphony I can assure you the latter yields little or nothing to the former in terms of execution although, as expected, the Chandos sound is both weightier and more spacious.

The concerto is a wartime work, written while the composer was recovering from a serious illness. The soft edges of the symphony are replaced here by a harder, more muscular idiom, which includes strong, uncompromising rhythms. There’s plenty of bite to the strings, ever-present timps commendably crisp and clear, the Sarabande more lyrical - and inward - than one might expect. The piano part is carefully woven into the musical fabric, which only shows signs of fraying in the latter half of this movement. The brisk, martial opening to the final Allegro - snare drums very much in evidence - takes us back to the sinewy world of the first. It’s well played and tightly argued, the muted march coloured by the gentlest of taps on the tam-tam.

So, a most encouraging start to this new cycle which, along with Noseda’s, will surely bring this music back into the mainstream, where it belongs. It seems entirely right that La Vecchia and his Roman band are leading the charge; goodness knows, they play this music with verve and vision - and that’s just what it needs

Nice one, Naxos.

-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

From the very first notes, with their tolling bells, Casella’s Symphony No. 2 is deeply indebted to its model, Mahler’s own Symphony No. 2, whose Parisian première was championed by Casella during his years in the French capital. A notte alta (‘In deepest night’), which Casella described as ‘the only piece of programme music I have ever composed…inspired by emotional events in my personal life’ (Casella’s love for his Parisian student Yvonne Müller), is a work of intimate self-revelation and sombre meditation on ‘the utter indifference of Nature to human passions’.

An interesting big symphony coupled with a shorter work that represents Casella at his considerable finest.

To my mind one of the most interesting and successful current Naxos series is that devoted to the orchestral music of Alfredo Casella. The current release is the fourth and contains Casella’s third and last symphony. Suffice to say all of the excellent values of performance and engineering/production of the first three volumes are duplicated here so admirers need not hesitate.
 
I had no knowledge of the major works prior to collecting these discs but I was mightily impressed with the scale and power of the earlier two symphonies. Casella’s third and final essay in the form is actually – and rather confusingly – simply titled Sinfonia and dates from 1939 making it a full three decades younger than the earlier pair. All three are big works; Nos. 1 & 3 clock in around the ¾ hour mark and No.2 is a full 55 minutes. Although the influences are different it is clear to hear that Casella was a man who was willing to let his admiration for the music of others infuse his own. So where the earlier works are epically Mahlerian the later work echoes Shostakovich and Nielsen as well. I would have to say that this Sinfonia has not made as immediate an impact on me as the earlier works. The central pair of movements seem to contain the most cogent and well argued music. In the excellent liner-note by David Gallagher it is pointed out that the work is truly symphonic in that nearly all of the melodic material in the entire work derives from the opening germinal material. This I suppose reflects the experience gained through his career but it does not necessarily make for as compelling a listen as the excitingly confident indeed bravura music he wrote in his twenties. The first movement in particular suffers from extended passages of musical material being ‘worked’ without the sense of it creating an emotional landscape for the listener. After the rather appealing sparse opening the scoring suffers from being rather heavy and unrelenting. That being said the final pages of the movement flutter away into quiet inconsequence. These are all impressions that are based on a relatively brief acquaintance with the work and without the benefit of the score.
 
The Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma under conductor Francesco La Vecchia continue to make the good impression they formed previously – the strings play with good ensemble and a well balanced tone. Italian brass players are always game to play with plenty of edge and attack and so they do here. I have not heard the other available version on CPO from the WDR Sinfonieorchester Köln under Alun Francis but I cannot imagine they have much to fear from it in purely technical terms. Having heard very little ‘war’ music in the opening movement the second movement Andante molto moderato opens with a string-led threnody that is instantly much more engaging and powerful than anything in the opening movement. The Rome strings are good but I can imagine this movement being even more powerful if played with the weight and unanimity of Vienna or Berlin. I like the way the music slowly builds a momentum becoming a rather lop-sided yet unrelenting march underlying some lovely lyrical lines for the strings and woodwind. It is rather quirky and individual before the mood lightens towards a calm major key resolution. The third movement Scherzo has a mechanistic (rather than militaristic) feel and while it has some of Shostakovich’s stamping energy it lacks the nightmarish malice of that composer’s writing that makes his scherzi in particular so remarkable. I wonder if it would benefit from a slightly more unleashed tempo than here? I’m sure La Vecchia’s choice is dictated by the complex filigree writing that surrounds the main material but it does result in a basic pulse that plods.
 
The Finale is altogether more buoyant indeed optimistic which might seem at odds with the wartime context. But as Gallagher points out repeatedly Casella was an enthusiastic indeed sycophantic supporter of Mussolini and his fascist agenda and since the war was still going relatively well for the regime in 1939/40 why not be optimistic? Again, I find there are passages which I suspect appeal more to the academics who admire the way in which the material is developed – to my innocent ear they lack a huge amount of melodic interest. But there are several passages which allow the impressive Rome horns and brass to shine excitingly. This is the movement that sounds most heroically filmic. After the bombast of the opening ten minutes of the movement there is a coda/epilogue that is rather beautiful in the way the musical lines grope upwards sinuously in a mood of hymn-like reflection which just as it is fading away with elegiac solo strings is flattened by a raucously noisy conclusion. Given that that ending lacks any of the irony or forced good-humour of a Shostakovich one is left assuming that Casella was feeling pretty good about things in 1940 after all!
 
If the symphony was the only work on offer here I would direct collectors to the earlier works. However, it is this disc’s ‘filler’ which proves to be the absolute jewel here and indeed one of the finest works by Casella I have yet encountered. This is also a work written in time of war – 1916 – but here the presence of tragedy and sorrow is unmistakeable. This Elegia eroica is subtitled “alla memoria di un Soldato morto in Guerra”. The very opening is magnificently striking in a way that eluded the symphony totally. Tolling horns, ominous tam-tam, skirling wood-wind and disconsolate strings immediately plunge the listener in a world of loss and despair. It feels much more modern and challenging than the later work. This is how Casella described it; “a heroic funeral march, a more intimate deeply sorrowful central episode; and finally a fusillade of death that thunders through the orchestra [and] subsides into a tender lullaby evoking an image of our country as a mother tenderly cradling her dead son”. The musical means Casella uses for this are actually considerably more modernistic than the potentially maudlin narrative might imply. It reminds me of the expressionist scores being written in Germany around this time and certainly quite unlike any other contemporaneous Italian score I can think of. The Rome orchestra are superb here relishing the extremes of dynamic and range the piece demands. Casella’s particular coup-de-théâtre was lost on the work’s first audience. The final lullaby is given to the solo oboe which plays fragments of the 19 ^th century patriotic song Fratelli d’Italia over a string-led rocking berceuse accompaniment – definite echoes of The Firebird here. It is a passage of tender beauty and poignant rapture – all drowned out in 1916 by “a tidal wave of indignation … not a single note could be heard.” Casella pares his orchestration right back to a skeletal minimum to stunning effect. In its quasi-minimalist way this passage pre-echoes Holst’s Uranus or the finale of Vaughan Williams’ Symphony No.6. Even the way Casella avoids any ‘comfortable’ ending adds to the impact and sincere power of the work.
 
So a conundrum for the collector to consider – a big symphony that is interesting but not the place to start your symphonic investigation of the composer coupled with a shorter work that represents him at his considerable finest. On balance, at the Naxos bargain price point, I would say worth buying for the Elegia alone. Hopefully Naxos will continue to use this creative team for further projects and indeed more Casella.
 
-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International

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Francesco La Vecchia’s recordings of modern Italian music for Naxos have been impressive, nowhere more so than in his discs dedicated to the finely crafted works of Alfredo Casella. The Third Symphony, written for Chicago, is a late piece (1940), but still an ambitious essay in the grand tradition. It’s beautifully put together, melodically pungent (maybe a touch of Honegger), colorfully scored, but also austere, even severe in places. It’s clearly the work of a mature master. Elegia eroica is a funeral march dating from 1916, a passionate threnody “to the memory of a soldier killed in battle.”
As with the other discs in this series, the performances are wholly convincing, well played and recorded. In the case of the symphony, though, there’s very strong competition, even better engineered, from Alun Francis and the slightly finer WDR Symphony Orchestra on CPO, coupled to the tone poem Italia. La Vecchia does present a legitimate alternate view, of course, with some strikingly different bits of instrumental detail, and a work of this richness ought to be heard in more than one interpretation. So if you’ve been collecting this series, by all means grab this release without qualms.
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

CASELLA Concerto for Piano, Violin, and Cello. GHEDINI Concerto dell’albatro ( Concerto of the Albatross ) for Violin, Cello, Piano, and Speaker 1 • Damian Iorio, cond; Emanuela Piedmonti (pn); Paolo Ghidoni (vn); Pietro Bosna (vc); 1 Carlo Dogliioni Majer (spkr); O I Pomeriggi Musicali • NAXOS 8.573180 (58:11 Text and Translation)


The music of Alfredo Casella and Giorgio Ghedini, modern and brilliant as it is, has been marginalized in part because both composers complied with the Fascist government—Casella willingly and eagerly, Ghedini passively. This disc combines major concertos by both of them. The former concerto grosso is almost Modernist in style, with the three soloists emerging from and returning to the ensemble, either individually or together; by contrast, the latter is a much more expansive and almost Impressionistic work, leaning on techniques pioneered by French composers, with its last movement including a spoken text (in Italian) from Herman Melville’s Moby Dick about the first time an albatross was spotted. Essentially, then, we have a contrast in influences, Casella’s Russian-Germanic style versus Ghedini’s more Francophile one.


This makes perfect sense in Casella’s case, as in 1930 he formed a piano trio, the Trio Italiano, with himself at the keyboard (violinist Alberto Poltronieri and cellist Arturo Bonucci were the other two members), and it was for his trio that he constructed this Concerto in 1933. David Gallagher’s liner notes claim a sameness in the construction and music of this Concerto and the Introduzione, aria e toccata, the Cello Concerto, and his purely instrumental Concerto of 1937, and he may indeed be right. I only have, or have heard, the first-named of these, and there is indeed a strong similarity to this Triple Concerto. Still, it is an excellent work; and, as Gallagher also points out, the composer thought the middle movement of this Concerto one of his finest pieces.


Ghedini’s music is almost uniformly original and inventive by comparison. The opening movement of his Concerto dell’albatro, marked Largo at a tempo of quarter note = 46, bears a striking resemblance to the music of Pïteris Vasks—but Vasks, born in the 1940s, only came to composition long after Ghedini’s death. Indeed, the only movement in this amazing work that struck me as somewhat artificially contrived was the fast movement (No. 4, Allegro vivace – Poco a poco animando – Lentamente ), a mere succession of rapid note patterns in an ambiguous jumble of tonality and an annoying, almost aggressive 6/8 rhythm. Carlo Doglioni Majer’s narration of Melville’s story is cool and detached.


Without having any prior knowledge of these works. I nonetheless enjoyed them both tremendously. The three soloists, though not strong personalities, are all fine musicians and the orchestra plays sublimely under Iorio’s baton. And here, wonder of wonders, Naxos’s sonics are excellent. This is, simply, a remarkably fine disc.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

The guitar works on this album are by two towering figures of Catalan music – pianist Federico Mompou and cellist Gaspar Cassadó. Both shared a friendship with Andrés Segovia who inspired these pieces. Performed by Italian guitarist Eugenio Della Chiara.

The booklet accompanying this release reproduces each of the Goya etchings that inspired the 24 individual pieces within Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco's solo-guitar suite, 24 Caprichos de Goya. To my eyes and ears Goya's stylized grotesquerie and twisted expressive palette has little in common with Castelnuovo-Tedesco's gentle, conservative, and masterfully idiomatic guitar writing. To be sure, there are inspired moments, such as No. 17's dissonant rapid repeated notes and drum-roll imitations, or No. 22's harmonically sophisticated cascading arpeggios, but don't expect an epic, six-stringed equivalent to Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition. Had the composer bagged his Goya subtext and simply titled this suite "Guitar Moods", he would have been right on the money. In any event, Zoran Dukic's sense of color and textural variety, his seamless technique, and his lyrical disposition serve this music beautifully, as does Naxos' warm, spacious engineering.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Inspired by the personality, prodigious technique and musicality of the cellist Gregor Piatigorsky, Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s Cello Concerto is a work of imposing scale and demanding virtuosity, but also with a rare beauty and warmth of expression. This live recording documents the first professional performances of the concerto in more than 80 years, and is paired with playful and virtuosic freely composed transcriptions for cello and piano of Mozart, Rossini and Ravel that Castelnuovo-Tedesco made for Piatigorsky and Heifetz. Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s career was interrupted by his move to America in 1939 to escape the Fascist regime in Italy. He worked as a film composer in Hollywood, and as a result his concert works have become neglected, and he is now best remembered as a composer for the guitar. There is something of an ongoing revival however, of which this program is a part. Acclaimed cellist Brinton Averil Smith appeared on the Naxos ‘American Classics’ album of music by Steven Gerber, in which Smith’s performance was widely lauded by critics. His virtuosity and musical ideas rooted in the golden age of string playing make him a favorite of audiences all over the world.

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REVIEW:

There’s a cinematic feel and scope to the Cello Concerto, primarily during the first movement, with plenty of expressive lines and passages that Brinton Averil Smith projects with aplomb.

The other pieces and arrangements on this CD are a pleasure to hear, most particularly Brinton Averil Smith’s own arrangement of Figaro, from the Barber of Seville, with Evelyn Chen on the piano. Their playing well projects the comical elements of this famous opera aria.

– Classical Music Sentinel

The three previously unpublished and unrecorded chamber works in this programme were all written after Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s enforced move to the United States from his native Italy. Evoking the emotional day on which the composer sailed into New York for the first time, the Third Violin Concerto was composed for Jascha Heifetz specifically as a duo for violin and piano. Established as a highly regarded teacher and composer of film music, Castelnuovo-Tedesco rediscovered the joy of chamber music making as part of the Hollywood musical community. He considered the Sonata for Violin and Cello, Op. 148 his finest in this genre, while the String Trio, Op. 147 recalls the shores of the Mediterranean.

If you’re into the guitar, then you’ll lap up every minute.

"Born in Florence, Castelnuovo-Tedesco studied with Pizzetti and was helped in his early career by Alfredo Casella. He met Segovia in 1932 and this inspired him to write his 1st Guitar Concerto, subsequently he wrote nearly 100 works for the instrument. He left Italy in 1939, just before the outbreak of war, and found himself, through the good offices of Jascha Heifetz, for whom he had written his 2nd Violin Concerto in 1931, in Hollywood with a contract from Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer where, over the next fifteen years he wrote over 200 scores. He was also an influential teacher and among his pupils are Jerry Goldsmith, Louis Ballard and John Williams. Castelnuovo-Tedesco is probably best remembered today for his guitar music, especially that 1st Concerto, which has received many recordings, the solo guitar music and a handful of Shakespeare overtures.

The Sonatina Canonica is a pleasant miniature, which fills the time. It’s delightful but without depth. But what else would you want from such a piece? After a short time you don’t really notice that you’re listening to canonic writing, and the mind can simply enjoy the interplay between the instruments.

Les Guitares Bien Tempérées is a much more serious work, by which I mean that it is not light in the way that the Sonatina is light. These pieces are not primarily for entertainment, but there is much music here which is truly enjoyable. I would never have thought that it was possible to get so much variety from two guitars. Castelnuovo-Tedesco fills his pieces with every emotion imaginable, from pathos to, almost, belly laugh (is that an emotion?) There are light and breezy pieces, serious inventions, dance type pieces - very holiday advertisement time - and all this wide variety of invention adds up to a very satisfying and pleasurable whole."

-- Bob Briggs, MusicWeb International

Between 1953 and 1967, the Italian composer Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco wrote a series of Greeting Cards. These 52 musical folios, 21 of which were written for the guitar, are pen portraits of admired performers, students, friends and composers, performed here by Andrea De Vitis.

Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco was one of Italy’s most influential and important composers during the 20th century. He was inspired to write for the guitar after meeting Andrés Segovia, and in the years that followed he wrote over one hundred works for the instrument. The Quintet for Guitar and String Quartet, a rare combination, reveals perfect sonority and construction with a serene Iberian mood. The Sonatina for Flute and Guitar contrasts joyfulness with poignant melodies, while the Eclogues are bucolic and lively. Written for Segovia and his wife Paquita Madriguera, the Fantasia for guitar and piano presents an expertly blended texture for this combination of instruments. Guitarist Leonard Becker is the Second Prize winner of the International Hannabach Guitar Competition 2020, held in Augsburg, Germany. He has performed with orchestras including the Pilsen Philharmonic Orchestra, with which he performed Rodrigo Concierto de Aranjuezin 2019. Alongside Louis Vandory, Valerie Steenken, Elisabeth Buchner and Márton Braun he is the founder of the Tedesco-Quintett (guitar and string quartet), which won First Prize at the International Chamber Music Competition ‘Gerhard Vogt’ in 2019.

Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco considered the 1924 Concerto Italiano to be his first truly symphonic venture. This tuneful, fresh and transparently scored concerto here receives its world première recording. It was admired by the great violinist Jascha Heifetz, for whom the composer wrote his Concerto No. 2 ‘I Profeti’ (The Prophets), an impassioned work ‘of biblical character and inspiration’ with an almost cinematic sweep. The recipient of the coveted Echo Klassik award for her album of Mendelssohn’s two Violin Concertos [8.572662], Tianwa Yang is widely recognized as one of the outstanding rising stars on the world classical music scene.

REVIEWS:

This recording of Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s early (1924) Concerto Italiano purports to be a world premiere, and while you can never really tell these days, this is certainly the first time that I have seen the work on disc. It’s very enjoyable, and very Italian–in a good way. The thematic material has character, even in the long opening Allegro moderato e maestoso, while the central Arioso sets the seal on the music’s Italianate lyricism. Yang plays the work very confidently; she has no technical limitations at all, and she captures the warmth of those romantic tunes with unfailing aplomb. Certainly she deserves credit for learning a big, unfamiliar piece that she’ll probably never be asked to play in concert.

The Concerto Italiano also makes ideal sense as the coupling to the slightly better known Violin Concerto No. 2 “I Profeti” (“The Prophets”). Composed in 1931, it was taken up by Heifetz, no less, who made a stunning recording that has popped up in various incarnations (coupled to the Walton Concerto on Naxos Historical). The modern reference version has been Perlman’s hard to find outing with Mehta and the Israel Philharmonic on EMI, in tandem with Ben-Haim’s Violin Concerto. The piece is interesting in that it really does sound like a (good) soundtrack to a Hollywood bible epic, although it predates both the genre and the composer’s American period by more than half a decade. If you like, say, Respighi’s exotic tone poems or Bloch’s Schelomo, then you’ll enjoy this well-wrought and colorful work similarly.

Again, Tianwa Yang plays with unflagging gusto and, in music that can turn kitschy, taste. Now is usually the time we get to say something condescending, like “She’s no Heifetz, or Perlman,” but the truth is that she doesn’t suffer at all from the comparison. She’s an excellent artist, one whose musicality and passion speak for themselves, and she can hold her own against anyone. The only caveat stems from the proficient but somewhat too polite accompaniments provided by the SWR ensemble under Pieter-Jelle de Boer, as well as the less than glittering sonics. Not bad, mind you, and probably as good as we have right to expect for such rare repertoire, but it could have been better still. If you don’t know this music, you should hear this.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The Concerto Italiano is not the breezy, pseudo-Victorian piece that its title might suggest; indeed, it is rather a melancholic work. I profeti is a rather more lively and colorful work, its glittering, singing lines certainly bring a resonant response both from soloist Tianwa Yang and the SWR Symphony Orchestra.

-- Gramophone

Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s two Piano Concertos form a contrasting pair. Concerto No 1, written in 1927, is a vivid and witty example of his romantic spirit, exquisite melodies and rich yet transparent orchestration. Concerto No 2, composed a decade later, is a darker, more dramatic and virtuosic work. The deeply-felt and dreamlike slow movement and passionate finale are tinged with bleak moments of sombre agitation, suggestive of unfolding tragic events with the imminent introduction of the Fascist Racial Laws that led Castelnuovo-Tedesco to seek exile in the USA in 1939. The Four Dances from ‘Love’s Labour’s Lost’, part of the composer’s recurring fascination for the art of Shakespeare, are atmospheric, richly characterised and hugely enjoyable. This is their first performance and recording.

R E V I E W:

CASTELNUOVO-TEDESCO Piano Concertos: Nos. 1, 2. Love’s Labour’s Lost: 4 Dances • Alessandro Marangoni (pn); Andrew Mogrelia, cond; Malmö SO • NAXOS 8.572823 (76: 43)


Naxos’s two discs of this composer’s Shakespeare overtures really turned a lot of heads, mine included, a couple of years ago. Therefore, it was inevitable that the label would add to its Castelnuovo-Tedesco discography. The two piano concertos are not new to CD. However, as happens with greater frequency these days, alternative recordings have either gone out of print or are prohibitively expensive imports. This new release makes a lot of sense then, and it has been made all the more attractive by the addition of the four dances from Love’s Labour’s Lost , in not only their first recording but also their first performance!


That’s probably a good place to start. Castelnuovo-Tedesco composed these in 1953, but apparently Boosey & Hawkes, to which they were offered, did not publish them, and neither did Ricordi. Thus, they remained in manuscript, and unheard, until they were lent by the composer’s niece, Lisbeth Castelnuovo-Tedesco, to Alessandro Marangoni, who prepared a performing edition. This utterly delightful music should not have waited 60 years for a performance. The composer’s affinity for Shakespeare, already demonstrated in the concert overtures, also comes forward here. There is a gently ironic, somewhat Ravel-like and somewhat cinematic approach to old dance forms here. A lush Sarabande (for the King of Navarre) is followed by a mocking Gavotte (for the Princess of France) and a quietly loquacious Spanish Dance (for Don Adriano de Armado). Last is a Russian Dance—the flavoring is subtle—which corresponds to the scene in Shakespeare’s comedy in which the King and his scholarly companions disguise themselves as Muscovites to woo the Princess and her three ladies. Again, it floors me that this music had to wait so long to be heard.


A similar situation applies to the Piano Concerto No. 2. The original score appears to have been lost, but Marangoni found a copy in the Library of Congress and prepared a performing edition of the piano part. (The orchestral parts were found somewhere else—talk about pieces and parts!) Both of the concertos are an unusual marriage of virtuoso writing and Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s relatively relaxed compositional style. The second concerto is the darker of the two; it was composed in 1936–37, shortly before the composer, who was a Jew, left Italy, ending up in Hollywood. It is, however, not a tragic work, but it lacks the lightness and wit of the other two works on this CD. For me, its romantic gestures don’t add up to a lot, given the not very distinctive quality of the melodic writing. Also, Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s longer works don’t have the structural strength of the Shakespeare overtures, for example, and this also contributes to the sense that the music is always going somewhere but never quite arriving. It is, by the way, proudly tonal. I am reminded of Respighi’s comment, around this time, that “dissonance has its place as a medium of tone-color, and polytonality has important uses as a means of expression, but for their own sake, they are completely abhorrent to me.”


So, as suggested, the Piano Concerto No. 1 (1927), which opens the CD, is less moody. As Graham Wade writes in his booklet note, it “was written in a spirit of optimism and ebullience.” Like the second concerto, its middle movement is a Romanza, although here, its introspection is less merited, and perhaps driven simply by the need for contrast. As I relisten to both of these concertos, I think the best way to describe them would be “Nino Rota meets Rachmaninoff,” although the First, in particular, is less impressive than either of those composers usually managed to be.


Away from the piano bench, Marangoni appears to be putting unusual effort forward on behalf of the composer, and I have no reason to believe that his pianism is holding either of these concertos back. He seems to enjoy their romantic lushness, and he has the fingers to make the most of that quality. Andrew Mogrelia, a familiar name from many Naxos releases, is associated with ballet music, and so it is not surprising that color and transparency are two strong features of these recordings. The Swedish orchestra is just fine, as is the engineering.


This is most desirable, I think, for the 16 minutes allotted to the dances from Love’s Labour’s Lost. I don’t reject the possibility, however, that the two piano concertos might grow on me, in time.


FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle

Castelnuovo-Tedesco's chamber works were composed early and late in his career. He considered the Piano Quintet No. 1 in F major from 1932 to be the best of all his chamber works from that period. It exudes Romantic candour and contrapuntal richness, full of lively themes and with a colourful atmosphere. The beautiful Piano Quintet No. 2, composed in 1951, draws on the composer's memories of a serene and rustic Tuscany. Quartetto Adorno's 'reference-worthy performance' (Classicstoday. Com) of the complete string quartets is on 8. 574580.

Also available: Castelnuovo-Tedesco: Shakespeare Overtures, Vol. 2 / Penny, West Australian Symphony

CASTELNUOVO-TEDESCO Julius Caesar, op. 78. The Taming of the Shrew, op. 61. Antony and Cleopatra, op. 134. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, op. 108. The Tragedy of Coriolanus, op. 135. Twelfth Night, op. 73 • Andrew Penny, cond; West Australian SO • NAXOS 8.572500 (65:07)

Who knew that Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco wrote overtures to 11 of Shakespeare’s plays? Not I and apparently not many others either, as every one of the works on this disc is claimed to be a world premiere recording. Naxos labels it Volume 1, so a companion CD containing the remaining five overtures— The Merchant of Venice, Much Ado about Nothing, As You Like It, The Winter’s Tale , and King John —is expected.

If you know Castelnuovo-Tedesco (1895–1968) by anything other than his famous D-Major Guitar Concerto, possibly his Violin Concerto titled “The Prophets,” and perhaps a few of his Jewish-themed choral works included in the Milken Archive of American Jewish Music project distributed on Naxos, you’re doing better than I am. Here is a composer with a catalog of more than 200 works—and that’s just the ones with opus numbers—who has simply never achieved recognition commensurate with the volume and quality of his output.

His “sin,” no more and no less than that of his close Italian contemporaries—Casella, Pizzetti, Malipiero, and Respighi—was to be born at a time and place where composing music in a late-Romantic and Impressionist style was regarded as regressive and reactionary by the modernists elsewhere on the Continent. Of this group, only Respighi seems to have enjoyed more or less permanent staying power. But Castelnuovo-Tedesco (hereinafter referred to as C-T for short) struggled against a second bias. Under Mussolini, Italy’s Jews may not have suffered the same fate as did their German, Austrian, and Polish co-religionists under Hitler, but fascist Italy was still not the friendliest place for a Jewish composer.

So in 1938, C-T left for the U.S., where he soon found work, as did so many other composers who fled Europe in those years, in the film industry. MGM Studios embraced him with open arms, and over the next several years he contributed to the scores of more than 200 films, all the while continuing to compose concert music. He became one of the most sought-after composition teachers in Los Angeles, taking on as students André Previn, Henry Mancini, and John Williams.

The first impression to strike one about these Shakespeare overtures is their made-for-the-movies character. This is not intended to be uncomplimentary; rather, it’s an observation of the vividly colored orchestration and the sweeping cinematic panoramas the music seems to encompass. Of the 11 overtures, six of them were written after C-T had arrived in the U.S. and taken up with the Hollywood crowd. Three of these— A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1940), Antony and Cleopatra (1947), and The Tragedy of Coriolanus (1947)—are on this volume. The earliest numbers—i.e., the five written while C-T was still in Italy—were The Taming of the Shrew (1930), followed by Twelfth Night (1933), The Merchant of Venice (1933), Julius Caesar (1934), and The Winter’s Tale (1935).

All of the overtures were conceived as stand-alone concert works, not as curtain-raisers to operas or incidental music to staged productions of the plays, and not as film music to accompany the rolling of the opening credits. As such, C-T’s overtures avoid storytelling; they do not attempt in a few minutes’ time to telescope the action of the plots. Instead, they take their cue from one or more specific events in the plays and develop a strictly musical narrative around them. This downplays programmatic associations and lends each overture a sense of structural integrity as a complete entity unto itself, worked out entirely in formal musical terms.

Over time, the overtures grew, not necessarily in length—though the 1947 Antony and Cleopatra expanded to nearly 18 minutes—but in ambition of orchestration. Where the 1930 Taming of the Shrew employs strings, double woodwinds, four horns, two trumpets, timpani, harp, piano, and percussion—hardly a modest-sized orchestra—the later overtures triple the winds and add English horn, contrabassoon, tuba, a second harp, tubular bells, glockenspiel, castanets, and a battery of various drums. Moreover, augmented string sections now find their parts frequently divided, and section leaders are highlighted in many striking solo passages. “The more grandiloquent moments,” observe Andrew Penny and Graham Wade in their booklet note, “anticipate the epic sweep of Miklós Rózsa’s film scores for Ben Hur or Quo Vadis of the 1950s.”

While certain parallels may exist, it should be emphasized that C-T’s overtures are serious symphonic works. They are not the stuff of movie soundtracks or, in arrangements, of summer-evening pops concerts. They are, however, not truly of their time—a statement that could apply to Respighi as well—in that they are big, bold, brightly painted musical billboards in a post-Romantic/Impressionist style that feature many of the same exoticisms and techniques one hears in scores like Respighi’s Roman Trilogy.

I take Naxos at its word that these are world premiere recordings; therefore, it is taken as an article of faith that other versions for comparison purposes do not exist. No matter, for the performances here by Andrew Penny and his West Australian Symphony Orchestra sound aces to me, and the recording has plenty of headroom for maximum impact in the music’s most massively scored passages. I can’t imagine why anyone would not be taken with these highly attractive scores. Definitely recommended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Thank God Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco's overture to A Midsummer Night's Dream doesn't sound anything like Mendelssohn: it's just a luscious bit of late-Romantic impressionism, and it's as lovely as it is concise. The big piece here is Antony and Cleopatra, nearly 18 exotic minutes of it, sounding rather like, well, the 1963 film score to Antony and Cleopatra (which was by Alex North, actually). The fact is that Castelnuovo-Tedesco had quite a successful career in Hollywood after swapping the fascism of his native Italy for the escapism of sunny California. The Taming of the Shrew is charming and witty, Coriolanus suitably somber, and Twelfth Night, rather like the play itself, mysterious and curiously elusive. All of the music is well played by the West Australian Symphony Orchestra under Andrew Penny--there are a few moments of iffy ensemble, but nothing to worry about, and the sonics are suitably vivid. Very enjoyable indeed.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The art of Shakespeare was a recurring fascination for Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco. In addition to two operas and numerous settings of songs and sonnets, he wrote 11 Shakespeare Overtures which here receive their first ever complete recording. Deploying all the resources of the symphony orchestra, these are some of the twentieth century’s most dramatic and tuneful orchestral works, spectacular evocations of Shakespeare’s greatest plays.

The award-winning Quartetto Adorno present Castelnuovo-Tedesco's complete works for string quartet. He began composing chamber music during the 1920s, and these works date from 1929, 1948 and 1964 respectively. Quartets Nos. 1 and 2 are world premiere recordings. This is a major addition to the comprehensive catalogue of Castelnuovo-Tedesco albums on Naxos.

Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco wrote that ‘the cello is an instrument I’ve always particularly loved,’ and this is reflected in the deft way he exploits its colors and techniques in chamber works recorded here that include unpublished gems and a world premiere. The sophisticated Cello Sonata and Sonatina also reveal the composer’s skill as a pianist, giving equal roles in a symbiotic relationship that tests both players’ virtuosity. Impressionist flavors in I nottambuli or ‘Night Owls’ contrast with a Toccata that blends fireworks with lyricism, as does the Jewish soulfulness of the popular Chant hebraique with the playful Scherzo that uses the English traditional tune ‘Sumer is icumen in.’

Jacques Casterede's distinguished career was centered in Paris, but with musical roots in the early twentieth-century traditions of neo-Classicism and Les Six- the wide variety of scope and intent in his work was never meant to compete with the radical avant-garde. The balletic Flutes en vacances has become one of his most popular pieces, while Ciels ('Skies') was a competition piece for the Conservatoire. The colors in Trois moments musicaux d'apres Corot depict paintings in sound while the Sonatine de Mai is more neo-Classical in mood.

Jacques Cast�r�de composed in almost every genre, from stage and symphonic works to competition pieces, with music that remained rooted in expressive melody. This third and final volume of his flute music presents witty neo-Classicism in the 5 Bagatelles, and the composer's delight in popular music with the post-Debussian 12 �tudes, works that are both communicative and vibrant. In the Divertimento we meet the composer at his most compulsively subversive, as an expert melodist, harmonist and contrapuntalist, in music as zany as it is disarming. South African native Cobus du Toit has performed in Russia, Taiwan, Japan, Germany, France, Australia and, as a concerto soloist, has performed with orchestras around the globe. Pianist Doreen Lee has appeared on all three volumes. She has performed with notable artists such as the Tak�cs Quartet, violist Geraldine Walther, Colorado Symphony principal horn Michael Thornton, flautists Christina Jennings and Katherine Kemler, and cellist Johannes Moser, among others. She is also the pianist of the du Toit/Lee Duo, formed in collaboration with flautist Cobus du Toit.