This is a delightful, even astonishing release... A valuable missing piece in the early discourse between jazz and classical music.

Evoking the Roaring Twenties, Chicago composer Leo Sowerby’s engaging and ingenious Synconata (1924) and Symphony for Jazz Orchestra (“Monotony”) (1925), critically praised for their distinctive harmony, counterpoint, and humor, receive world-premiere recordings by Chicago bandleader-trombonist Andrew Baker and his Andy Baker Orchestra, making their Cedille Records debuts. Sowerby was among the leading young American classical composers commissioned by celebrity bandleader Paul Whiteman to create fresh repertoire for his landmark series of “symphonic jazz” concerts — a roster that also included George Gershwin, Ferde Grofé, and Zez Confrey. The same Jazz Age concerts that saw the premieres of Sowerby’s Synconata and Symphony for Jazz Orchestra also launched Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue into America’s consciousness. The program also includes Sowerby chamber works from the same period: his Serenade for String Quartet and the world-premiere recordings of his String Quartet in D minor and Tramping Tune for piano and strings, all performed by the Avalon String Quartet, an ensemble “prizing grace, charm and elegance” (WQXR Radio). Joining the Avalon in Tramping Tune are pianist Winston Choi, head of the piano program at Roosevelt University’s Chicago College of Performing Arts, and Alexander Hanna, principal double-bassist of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. The album was recorded by the Grammy Award-winning team of producer James Ginsburg and engineer Bill Maylone.

REVIEWS:

This is a delightful, even astonishing release. It contains early works by Leo Sowerby, the most popular composer of church music in the 20th century USA. The two largest items here were composed for Paul Whiteman’s (of Rhapsody in Blue fame) jazz band. They are extraordinarily appealing. The first, called Synconata, is a single movement “overture” full of memorable ideas. It may not be as melodically distinctive as Gershwin, who was a great song-writer first and foremost, but it certainly passes the time entertainingly.

This is even more the case with the Symphony for Jazz Orchestra, given the eyebrow-raising title “Monotony” (!). Don’t worry. The music is anything but. The title comes from the original circumstances of its first performances, as a sort of theatrical art piece featuring a huge metronome front and center. Both of these scores had to be reconstructed by Andy Baker for the present disc, and he inspires his musicians to give loving, dedicated interpretations, captured in perfectly balanced, tactile sonics. Even without the other pieces on the disc–all but one world premieres–this would be worth acquiring.

However, the remaining items are much more than mere makeweights. Sowerby’s First String Quartet is a substantial work in three movements. The idiom is self-consciously “American,” full of modal, folk-like themes and zesty rhythms. Although the movements get longer as the work progresses, the music becomes increasingly lively and the entire structure, however unconventional, works extremely well. The Avalon String Quartet had to work just as hard as Any Baker to bring the piece to performance, but the effort was certainly worth it. The two additional works, Tramping Tune for quartet, piano and double bass, and the charmingly lyrical serenade for string quartet, round out this compelling and beautifully assembled collection. Truly a major discovery.

– ClassicsToday.com (10/10; David Hurwitz)

The “main event” here, so to speak, is Sowerby’s jazz symphony Monotony. This is an utterly fascinating piece, more classical than jazz despite its use of muted trumpets, banjo and the like, at least in structure. Sowerby builds the first movement around a little sliding chromatic figure played by the trombones in their low range, which is then transformed a bit and moved up to the saxophones as the music develops. Suddenly, a bright little clarinet tune pops up (probably played by Ross Gorman, Whiteman’s virtuoso clarinetist at the time who created the upward opening glissando in Rhapsody in Blue), before the strings and brass get in on the fun. Once again, the syncopations are much closer to ragtime than to real jazz of the era (for examples of this, listen to contemporary recordings by the New Orleans Rhythm Kings, King Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band and The Wolverines with Beiderbecke on cornet), but Sowerby’s composition skills kept him and the piece going.

Overall, this is a very interesting album. Kudos all around, to the performers for doing such a good job on the music as well as to Çedille Records for recording and releasing it. This is a valuable missing piece in the early discourse between jazz and classical music.

– The Art Music Lounge

Multiple Grammy-winning Third Coast Percussion (TCP), praised by NPR for championing "borderless music" and "blurring musical boundaries, " celebrates it's 20th anniversary in 2025 with Standard Stoppages, an album inspired by pioneering conceptual artist Marcel Duchamp's idea of twisting standardized units, with works that redefine rhythmic structures and sonic possibilities. Reflecting on two decades-or a "score"-of music-making, the anniversary gives TCP the space to reflect on their many milestones, collaborations, and steps along the journey that have shaped their work over the years, inspiring the group to commission new works for the occasion. This diverse set of commissions makes for a colorful sonic palette of percussive ensemble works, ranging from Zakir Hussain's traditional Hindustani influence to Musekiwa Chingodza's Zimbabwean song to Jessie Montgomery's western contemporary approach. This project brings together both new and past collaborators; with commissioned works from Jlin and Zakir Hussain, alongside fresh contributions from Jessie Montgomery and Tigran Hamasyan. The late Zakir Hussain and the rich Hindustani and tabla traditions were strong sources of inspiration for Third Coast Percussion, most notably through the commissioned work Murmurs in Time. His unexpected passing between the album's recording and release moved TCP to dedicate this project to his memory and enduring legacy. Drawing from Duchamp's Three Standard Stoppages, TCP's 7th recording for Cedille Records invites reflection on the varying paths that lead to unique creative expressions, both for themselves and their collaborators. Standard Stoppages was produced and engineered by Judith Sherman, Colin Campbell, and Bill Maylone. Tracks 1-4 and 7-10 were recorded November 4-8, 2024, and tracks 5-6 October 1-2, 2024, at Narwhal Studios, Chicago, IL; Track 11 was recorded November 15, 2024, at Rax Trax, Chicago, IL.

Mary Elizabeth Bowden, praised for her “splendid, brilliant” artistry (Gramophone), celebrates the narrative power of the trumpet with "Storyteller: Contemporary Concertos for Trumpet." Bowden is joined by the Chicago Youth Symphony Orchestra and conductor Allen Tinkham in a collection of new concertos that redefine the trumpet’s voice in modern classical music. This recording, a testament to Bowden’s commitment to expanding the trumpet repertoire, features world premiere recordings of works by James M. Stephenson, Clarice V. Assad, Vivian Fung, Tyson Gholston Davis, Sarah Kirkland Snider, and Reena Esmail, showcasing the richness and versatility of contemporary classical trumpet music.

This album was awarded the 2008 Grammy Award for "Best Chamber Music Performance."
All tracks have been digitally mastered using 24-bit technology.

Strings Magazine calls Jennifer Koh’s new album of Tchaikovsky’s complete works for violin, “remarkable… thoughtful and vibrant.” Jennifer Koh won Musical America’s 2016 Instrumentalist of the Year award. Before that, she received top prize in the 1994 Tchaikovsky International Competition in Moscow, where she won three special prizes, including best performance for Tchaikovsky’s concerto. This is Koh’s eleventh album for Cedille Records. Her previous record String Poetic, was recently nominated for a Grammy Award.

TCHAIKOVSKY: String Quartet No. 2 in F major / Souvenir de F

TCHAIKOVSKY: The Seasons (excerpts) / RACHMANINOV: Preludes

The Billy Collins Suite comprises intimate chamber settings for eleven Collins poems, some sung, others narrated. (Cedille)

The Pacifica Quartet presents The Korngold Collection, a landmark recording of Erich Wolfgang Korngold's complete string quartets and rarely heard chamber works tracing the composer's extraordinary evolution from prodigy of post-imperial Vienna to pioneering film composer in Hollywood. Described by The Daily Telegraph as "nothing short of phenomenal," the multiple Grammy Award-winning Pacifica Quartet brings more than three decades of acclaimed artistry to this sweeping portrait of Korngold's chamber music. The three string quartets, written between 1923 and 1945, chart Korngold's artistic journey: the First Quartet pulses with adventurous harmony; the Second, composed just before his emigration from Austria, overflows with lush melody; and the Third, finalized after WWII, draws on themes from his iconic film scores, including The Sea Hawk and Between Two Worlds. Complementing the quartets are two early chamber gems: the radiant Piano Quintet in E major (1920), written in the wake of his operatic triumph, Die tote Stadt and performed with pianist Orion Weiss; and the vibrant String Sextet in D major (1914), a youthful work that helped establish Korngold's early reputation, featuring violist Milena P�jaro-van de Stadt and cellist Eric Kim. Praised for their "remarkable expressive range and tonal beauty" (The New York Times), the Pacifica Quartet has distinguished itself through a deep commitment to complete composer cycles, including The Soviet Experience, their celebrated survey of Shostakovich's 15 string quartets, plus quartets by his contemporaries.

SHOSTAKOVICH String Quartets Nos. 13, 14, 15. SCHNITTKE String Quartet No. 3 • Pacifica Qrt • CEDILLE 145 (2 CDs: 104:28)

With this fourth volume, the Pacifica Quartet brings its survey of Shostakovich’s 15 string quartets to a close. As with the each of the earlier two-disc sets, a bonus is offered in the form of a string quartet by one of Shostakovich’s contemporaries, this time the String Quartet No. 3 by Alfred Schnittke. Previous discmates were Myaskovsky, Prokofiev, and Weinberg.

Between two hospitalizations in 1970, Shostakovich managed to complete his 13th Quartet in August of that year. Alone among the composer’s 15 quartets, this Bb-Minor work is in a single movement and exhibits a palindromic form—ABCBA. Like the 12th Quartet before it, this one, too, is based on a tone row encompassing all 12 semitones of the chromatic scale. Shostakovich’s endgame, however, is to confirm tonality rather than to deny it.

Much of the composer’s music seems to dwell in dark, brooding, baleful places—that’s nothing new—but this 13th Quartet arguably surpasses in mood and atmosphere even the spectral chill and ghoulish humor of his earlier works. It unmasks the face of death, and it’s a visage so hideous to behold that gazing upon it will freeze your eyeballs in their sockets. I can only describe the Pacifica Quartet’s reading of the score by saying it achieves a sub-zero degree of cold that can penetrate and shatter your bones. Never have I heard such a graphic representation in music of the daemon Thanatos, not by the Fitzwilliam, Emerson, St. Petersburg, Brodsky, or Alexander String Quartets. This is scary stuff.

Shostakovich’s next quartet, No. 14 in F# Minor, reverts back to a key more convenient for string players, three sharps, allowing for the use of some open strings, and being a lot easier to finger than the five flats of the previous quartet. The composer began work on the piece in 1972, but took time off for a trip to Ireland and England, where he visited his friend, Benjamin Britten, in Aldeburgh. That delayed completion of the Quartet until the following spring, after Shostakovich had returned to Moscow.

The score is dedicated to Sergei Shirinsky, the original cellist of the Beethoven Quartet, and contains a cryptogram in the third movement on “Seryozha,” a familiar or affectionate form of address for Sergei. However, the pitches—D#-E-D-E-G-A—make no sense unless transliterated into their Cyrillic equivalents. The “E,” for example, represents the Cyrillic letter “ë,” which I’m given to understand is pronounced “yo,” thereby denoting the second syllable in “Seryozha.”

Compared to the 13th Quartet, No. 14 is positively playful. Still, being by Shostakovich, the music does have its bleak and menacing moments, but also one passage in particular in the third movement, beginning at 4:49 in this performance that’s of utterly aching beauty. Unfortunately, I don’t have access to the score, but if my ears don’t deceive me, it sounds like the viola playing in double stops for a number of bars, accompanied by gentle pizzicatos in the violins. If I’m right, and it is the viola, then Masumi Per Rostad’s playing at this point is simply breathtaking; which is not to take anything away from Simin Ganatra, Sibbi Bernhardsson, and Brandon Vamos, whose playing throughout this entire series has been nothing but phenomenal.

Shostakovich’s last quartet, No. 15, is clearly a valedictory work in much the same way that Beethoven’s final quartets are. Completed in May 1974, a year and three months before his death, Shostakovich chose for this score what Stephen Harris calls “the mysterious but traditionally morbid key of Eb Minor.” “Morbid” may be one word for it, but with a key signature of six flats most string players would call it by a word or words not to be spoken in polite company. Had Shostakovich lived to write a 16th quartet, one can only wonder if he’d have upped the ante to seven flats with a score in Ab Minor or Cb Major.

In six movements, the 15th Quartet is the composer’s longest, playing for some 36 minutes in the Pacifica’s performance. Moreover, each of the six movements is in the same Eb-Minor key and in one degree or another of Adagio . As quoted by Elizabeth Wilson in Shostakovich: A Life Remembered , the composer himself gave this performance instruction: “Play the first movement so that flies drop dead in mid-air and the audience leaves the hall out of sheer boredom.”

The music obviously speaks of facing death, but it’s not macabre and malignant like the 13th Quartet; rather, it’s mostly melancholy, sorrowful, and resigned, with the occasional defiant outburst. If I singled out violist Rostad for his playing in the 14th Quartet, I have to note first violinist Simin Ganatra’s superb execution of the third-movement cadenza in the 15th Quartet.

Shostakovich’s string quartets have been extremely fortunate from the very beginning to have received quite a few outstanding recordings. A number of them are cited above, but there are earlier ones by the Beethoven and Borodin Quartets that have historical significance, as well as more recent ones by the Sorrel and Mandelring Quartets (the last two of which I’ve not heard). But of those I have heard—and that would include all the others named in this review—I believe I’m prepared to say that this cycle by the Pacifica Quartet is the top contender. Whether you already have one or more Shostakovich quartet cycles in your collection, or you have none, the Pacifica’s is a must-have for anyone of the conviction that these are the most profound musical utterances in the realm of the string quartet since Beethoven.

Disc two closes with a performance of Alfred Schnittke’s String Quartet No. 3, composed in 1983. Seth Brodsky, assistant professor of music and the humanities at the University of Chicago (no connection to the Brodsky Quartet), notes Schnittke’s “anti-classical” or “polystylistic” approach, which “depends on shattering classical norms of balance, purity, and wholeness for a multiplicity of styles.” “Schnittke’s Third Quartet,” Brodsky continues, “shatters all three within its first minute. We hear only broken pieces from other times and other works—first from Orlando de Lassus’s Stabat Mater (later 1500s), then from Beethoven‘s Grosse Fuge (1825), and finally from Shostakovich‘s famous ‘musical signature,’ ‘D-S-C-H,’ first used in his Fifth String Quartet of 1952. Schnittke takes these three musical modules, from disparate traditions traversing half a millennium, and puts them directly after one another, only to have the whole thread snap and fall to the ground.”

As works by Schnittke go—at least among those I can claim to have heard—this Third Quartet is fairly accessible, an impression borne out by its relative popularity. Not counting the present version by the Pacifica Quartet, the work has received six recordings, one of which, with the Borodin Quartet on a Virgin Classics CD, to my surprise, I found on the shelf and dusted off for comparison. Once again, for playing of arresting graphic detail, the Pacifica wins hands-down.

This is a Shostakovich cycle for the ages.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

SHOSTAKOVICH String Quartets: Nos. 1–4. PROKOFIEV String Quartet No. 2 • Pacifica Qrt • ÇEDILLE 30 (2 CDs: 129:17)

Sooner or later, most contributors to this journal are bound to receive letters from disgruntled readers and the occasional colleague complaining about what they perceive to be an unfairly negative review, or even an unfairly positive one. But I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever been chided by a colleague as I was by Peter J. Rabinowitz in Fanfare 35:4 for submitting an enthusiastic review that wasn’t enthusiastic enough. In a second-opinion follow-up to my review of Volume 1 of the Pacifica Quartet’s new Shostakovich cycle, Rabinowitz took exception to my “Goldilocks” analogy in which I stated that the Pacifica’s performances struck me as “j-u-s-t right.”

Although I never got to review the Pacifica’s complete Mendelssohn quartets, they showed up on a couple of Want Lists, and in a number of reviews of Mendelssohn quartet recordings by other ensembles, I’ve repeatedly singled out the Pacifica’s version as equaling, if not surpassing, the Emerson’s set. So, as a rejoinder to Rabinowitz, let me just say for the record that I agree with him that the Pacifica’s Shostakovich is not “middle of the road,” and by “j-u-s-t right” I didn’t mean to imply that the ensemble’s performances straddled the fence or clung to the median strip running down the center of the highway. There is no better string quartet on the scene today than the Pacifica. In terms of technical precision and keenness of musical insight, the Pacifica is the true inheritor of the Emerson’s crown and, in warmth of tone and emotional responsiveness, I often find the Pacifica superior to the Emerson.

That said, there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that once the Pacifica has completed its Shostakovich cycle it will be among the top two or three to have, those others being the aforesaid Emerson and what some consider to be the definitive Fitzwilliam. With this release of Volume 2, the Pacifica has now crossed the ocean more than halfway. Eight of the 15 quartets have now been committed to disc—Nos. 5–8 in Volume 1, and now Nos. 1–4 here. And as in the previous volume, the MO is to include another roughly contemporaneous string quartet by another Russian composer. In Volume 1 it was Miaskovsky; here it’s Prokofiev.

Shostakovich’s quartets span a period of 36 years; the first was written in 1938, the last in 1974. The four quartets heard here are the composer’s earliest, though in the overall chronology of his works, you could say that he got a relatively late start in the quartet-writing business. He’d already written his first five symphonies by 1937, before his first quartet was even a twinkle in his ear.

As he is quoted in Shostakovich: A Life Remembered , it was the composer’s intention to write 24 quartets following a cyclic progression of major and minor keys. Unlike Bach, however, who proceeded through the keys by semitone, or Chopin, who in his 24 preludes proceeded via the Circle of Fifths, Shostakovich adopted a unique scheme of his own. He proceeds—at least in the 15 quartets he managed to write—more or less by submediants (by sixths). The first six quartets, all in major, follow the pattern. C, A, F, D, B?, G—A being a sixth above C, F being a sixth above A, and so on. But then something goes askew with the plan. No. 7 should have been in E?, but instead Shostakovich throws a monkeywrench into the works by giving us a quartet in F?-Minor. No. 8 returns to the pattern with C Minor, which would have been the submediant of No. 7 if No. 7 had followed the plan and been in E?. Another deviation comes with No. 10, which is also in the “wrong” key from what it should be, but the pattern resumes once again with No. 11.

In a fascinating analysis of the quartets (quartets.de/index.html), one Ian Strachan explains that “the insertion of F?-Minor and the effective rotation of E? sharp major [ sic ] and C minor were done so that quartet number nine would be written in E?-Major and quartet number 16 in B Major. By doing so Shostakovich would ensure that his initials (DSCH) were used as the keys in quartets whose number are a perfect square (D Major: quartet number four or 2 squared; S, in the German notation or E?-Major in the English: quartet number nine or 3 squared; C Major: quartet number one or 1 squared; and H or B Major in the English notation as quartet number 16, or 4 squared). So it seems that Shostakovich, a tonal composer who delighted in keeping detailed numerical records of football scores, indulged in numerical as well as musical ciphers.”

In a way, I suppose, this tends to reinforce something I’ve said before about Shostakovich’s quartets, not that they’re all alike, but that there’s a prevailing sense of continuity in the musical discourse that makes them seem like one cogent and coherent conversation from beginning to end, which, of course, could be advanced as an argument for listening to them in order. Still, the above bit of clever mathematical manipulation presumes the existence of a 16th which was never written, as well as the continuation of the pattern all the way through to a nonexistent final 24th quartet. You’ve got to love stuff like this; it can be so earnest in its pursuit of the Delphic. Or, as the oracle once said, “Pi are square, cake are round.”

Nonetheless, I would urge you to visit the website because it goes way beyond the tortured math I’ve touched on here. It also provides a detailed history, description, and analysis of every single quartet.

The First Quartet, for the most part, is a bouncy, one might almost say joyful, thing. The coruscating harmonies, rhythmic ostinatos, and pervasive gloom we often associate with Shostakovich’s music are saved for the later quartets.

The austerity and menace begin to creep in as early as the Second Quartet. The Soviet victory over Hitler’s army was near in the early fall of 1944 when Shostakovich composed the work, practically in the same breath as his famous E-Minor Piano Trio, but he wasn’t in a celebratory mood. There’s a Russianness or East European Jewishness to the melodic and harmonic material, which often sounds like it’s derived from folk songs and klezmer dances soured and bent out of shape by Shostakovich’s parodying techniques.

Superficially, the Third Quartet (1946) bears some resemblance to the First Quartet in its opening swagger and jaunty Haydnesque character, but it’s a cheerfulness colored by disappointment and disillusion. The piece was written on the eve that ushered in the dark days of the Zhdanov denouncement and the targeting of Soviet artists and intellectuals. Shostakovich’s state of mind is reflected in the fact that the Third Quartet is the only work he wrote during this year.

The Fourth Quartet (1949) ran into resistance for other reasons and of a different sort. Characterized as another of his “Jewish” works—though not Jewish, Shostakovich was drawn to Jewish musical and cultural themes throughout his life—the Fourth Quartet appeared at exactly the time that the Cold War was heating up, anti-Semitism was once again on the rise (if it had ever abated), and Stalin was gleefully engaged in another round of persecution and purges. The horror is made manifest in the leering danse macabre of the concluding Allegretto, one of the standout movements in the entire quartet cycle.

For Prokofiev the string quartet plays a far less central role in his output; he wrote only two, the first in 1930, and the second, included in the present set, in 1941. Writing string quartets was not a particularly self-motivated or self-fulfilling effort for him, and this, his second go at the medium, was apparently not even his idea. Having been sent to a Soviet outpost presumed safe from Germany’s invading forces, Prokofiev was encouraged to write a string quartet based on the Kabardino-Balkar folk themes common to the North Caucasus region to which he and other artists had been evacuated. He seems to have warmed to the idea, producing a fine example of abstract music inspired by authentic folk elements.

In every single movement of Shostakovich’s quartets and in the Prokofiev, the Pacifica Quartet penetrates to the very heart and soul of the music. What stands out—matters of technical precision and ensemble blending and balance are givens—is the way in which the players probe for and reveal amazing details even in passages that, superficially, may seem to present relatively flat surfaces unlikely to yield much in the way of dimensionality, such as the Adagio of the Third Quartet. But under inspection of the Pacifica’s microscope, the music displays a topography filled with hidden peaks and valleys. It’s this intellectual curiosity to explore, wedded to largesse of emotional expressivity that makes these performances special.

I hope Rabinowitz takes this to be the fervently enthusiastic recommendation intended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

The electrifying Pacifica Trio is back with the highly anticipated third installment of their acclaimed Soviet Experience series. This release focuses on Shostakovich’s string quartets of the 196s, Nos. 9-12. Ranging from a balanced neoclassical form to an unpredictable riot of tonal and atonal themes, these quartet s rank among the finest of Shostakovich’s later works. The adventurous String Quartet No. 6 of Mieczyslaw Weinberg, Shostakovich’s friend and colleague, provides another vantage point to view this period in Soviet history. (“The playing is nothing short of phenomenal, bringing new dimensions of interpretative depth and a subtle fusion of intensity and clarity. . . . When the series is complete, it looks set to be the one to own.” The Telegraph, London)

Includes gigue(s) by Jean-Baptiste Lully. Soloist: David Schrader.

EIGHTH BLACKBIRD: Thirteen Ways

Chicago based ensemble Lincoln Trio presents this personal program of 20th century piano trios by composers who hail from the members’ ancestral homelands of England, Armenia, and Switzerland. Acclaimed for creating “worthwhile programs of serious classical music that are wholly winning and simply delightful,” (ClassicsToday.com) the Lincoln Trio consists of violinist Desiree Ruhstrat, cellist David Cunliffe, and pianist Marta Aznavoorian. Many listeners will be discovering the works on this release for the first time. English composer Rebecca Clarke wrote her Piano Trio in 1922. This work is featured alongside Arno Babajanian’s 1952 work Piano Trio in F-Sharp Minor and the most well known work on the album, Frank Martin’s Trio on Popular Irish Melodies from 1925.

REVIEW:

Most “concept albums” don’t work. This one does. Dubbed “Trios from our Homelands”, the three members of the Lincoln Trio have each chosen a piece from their native countries: England, Armenia, and Switzerland. It’s a cute idea, and that’s all it would be if the musical quality of the three works presented were not so high, and the program so effective. What we really have, musically speaking, is a splendid concert of three excellent 20th-century chamber works, at least two of which will likely be new to most listeners, played with proprietary zeal and recorded with perfect discretion and naturalness.

The work you might know is Swiss composer Frank Martin’s delightful but hardly overexposed Trio on Popular Irish Melodies, a minor masterpiece of genuinely involving thematic workmanship and expressive economy. Perhaps the biggest “find” is Rebecca Clarke’s dazzling Piano Trio (1922), a major work by any standard that you might describe as Bartók with English folk inflections rather than Hungarian. The ensemble writing throughout is intense, melodically fresh, and altogether masterful, its three movements well-proportioned, and the Lincoln Trio simply plays the bejesus out of it.

Armenian composer Arno Babajanian (1921-83) was a major voice in his country’s musical development. His Piano Trio in F-sharp minor is a romantic work written with a heart-on-sleeve passion that never turns tacky or descends into cheap nationalist musical gestures. Its three movements might be a bit lacking in contrast, but the argument never goes slack and, once again, it would be difficult to imagine a finer performance. Intelligently assembled programs like this one are all too rare, but the Lincoln Trio shows us that they are possible, and set a standard that other groups would do well to emulate.

– ClassicsToday.com (David Hurwitz)

Olagón: a Cantata in Doublespeak is the newest album from multiple Grammy Award-winning chamber ensemble Eighth Blackbird. The project finds the innovative new-music sextet collaborating with vocalist Iarla Ó Lionaird of the Irish supergroup The Gloaming; Princeton-based composer-fiddler Dan Trueman; and Pulitzer Prize-winning Irish poet Paul Muldoon. A modern retelling of an ancient Irish epic, Olagón depicts — not without irony and humor — a privileged “power couple” mired in envy, greed, and adultery, descending into criminality and addiction as Ireland’s “Celtic-Tiger” economy collapses in the early 21st century. Trueman’s score combines elements of the traditional music of Ireland, Norway, and America with the raw urgency and sonorities of contemporary classical music. Muldoon’s text interweaves verses in English and Irish Gaelic, seasoned with word-play and wit. Ó Lionaird, whom The Guardian calls “one of the most dramatic voices in contemporary music,” sings the text in the unique and highly ornamental Irish style known as sean nós. The production incorporates the gorgeous young voices of students of acclaimed Irish sean nós singer Treasa Ní Mhiollain, who also makes an appearance. Eighth Blackbird is “one of the smartest, most dynamic contemporary classical ensembles on the planet” (Chicago Tribune). Olagón is the new-music sextet’s ninth Cedille Records album. Four of their previous Cedille recordings won Grammy Awards in the Best Small Ensemble/Chamber Music Performance category.

Here is yet another intelligent project from Cedille, and a real bonanza for chamber music lovers. Turina’s chamber works are gorgeous. True, the early Piano Quintet in G minor is a touch heavy and faux-Franck, but after that it’s basically smooth sailing. This two disc set contains, first of all, the complete music for piano trio, expertly played with passion and precision by the Lincoln Trio. Most collections of this music contain only the two numbered trios plus the dawn-to-dusk tone poem for piano trio known as Circulo. Here we also get the large early trio in F major, a lovely work that brings the total playing time of the disc to over 73 minutes.

The second disc offers the late Piano Quartet in A minor, the above-mentioned piano quintet, and the sunny, lyrical sextet in two movements subtitled Escena Adaluza. Turina’s mature works exude Spanish color in the cast of their melodies, but his music is also formally elegant and beautifully shaped. Several of these pieces, such as the Quintet and the Trio No. 1, contain spontaneous but intellectually sophisticated fugues, and there isn’t a routine note anywhere. The Lincoln Trio’s colleagues, especially violist Ayane Kozasa, who has a major part in the Sextet, blend seamlessly with the basic ensemble, and they are flawlessly recorded.

I never cease to be amazed at how, with a little thought and intelligence, it’s still possible to put together worthwhile programs of serious classical music that are wholly winning and simply delightful. This release would grace any collection; it’s a treat.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Jennifer Koh and Jamie Laredo feature in this recital of works written for two violins. Includes two world-premiere recordings in addition to works by J.S. Bach and Philip Glass. Vinay Parameswaran leads the Curtis 20/21 Ensemble, to which composer David Ludwig (b. 1974) serves as Director. Anna Clyne's (b. 1980) dramatic and inventive works have been championed by musicians from around the world.

REVIEW:

Jennifer Koh’s collaboration with her erstwhile mentor at the Curtis Institute, Jaime Laredo, has resulted in a program of works for two violins played by both of them: Bach’s Double Violin Concerto and three new pieces, all accompanied by Vinay Parameswaran conducting the Curtis 20/21 Ensemble. In Bach’s and David Ludwig’s works, Laredo plays first violin, while in Anna Clyne’s and Philip Glass’s, Koh does. The recordings of Clyne’s and Ludwig’s works purport to be the first. 

The duo adopts quick but not precipitous tempos in the first movement of Bach’s Concerto. Both soloists produce a modern sound that blends well their soloistic counterpart and with the ensemble. They engage in no mannerisms, presenting the music straightforwardly, as they do in the slow movement, though their beauty of tone there provides a focus of interest, rendering their interweaving tonally ingratiating, quite aside from the musical compatibility it evinces. Should their individualities be expressed more obviously? Would the soloists in Bach’s time be clearly distinguishable in such a chamber setting? Quite aside from these more philosophical quibbles, their playing sounds equally homogeneous, as well as highly energetic, in the finale.

Clyne’s 2012 piece, Prince of Clouds, shimmeringly atmospheric and harmonically accessible in its opening, grows texturally chunkier as it progresses, recalling stylistically Benjamin Britten’s keen ear for string textures and resonances—and not only between the soloists but within the ensemble, too. Glass’s Echorus, perhaps even more atmospheric and just as firmly tonal in its harmonic underpinnings, trades on shifting melodic patterns, as do so many of his other works (recalling clouds subtly shifting shapes as they roll, although the two soloists emerge only tentatively from the textures), and rivets listeners’ attention to its hypnotic musical argument. The four movements of Ludwig’s 2012 Seasons Lost represent the four seasons in order but beginning (rather than ending) with “Winter.” The composer suggests that these recall a time before climate change merged the seasons. As do the other two recent works on the program, this one creates atmospheres; and, as does Clyne’s work, it also shows how sharply the composer’s ear discriminates among string sonorities. The composer likens the interweaving violin parts of “Spring” with that of the season’s luxuriantly sprouting greenery, while Summer suggests to him warm nights and bonfires: dark and mysterious and allusive, like the performances. “Fall” brings blowing winds in perhaps the most graphic of the movements, with shriller, almost Stravinskian sonorities and harmonies.

The program evinces a sort of continuity more integral even than the close interaction of the two soloists and the unifying string sonorities: A sort of downy blanket covers all of it, generating lots of warmth without inducing somnolence. Can this, rather than deterministic or aleatory blips and bangs, be the future of music? Has the tonal system really been played out, and did the experiments now almost a century old really come about as a result of historic inevitability? Many listeners could perhaps accept this program as a sort of gentle answer. In any case, the recital should appeal broadly for its performances and for its program (to say nothing of its clear recorded sound). It doesn’t jettison the past so much as it establishes a sort of healing continuity. Strongly recommended.

FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Trio Settecento, the “superlative Chicago-based early music ensemble” (Gramophone) presents Italian Baroque composer Francesco Maria Veracini’s monumental Opus 2 Sonate Accademiche for violin and continuo. It’s a cosmopolitan collection of 12 sonatas of breathtaking scope and pan-European influences – a set of sonatas unlike any other of the era. Veracini’s Sonate Accedemiche is both an homage to his fellow-countryman Arcangelo Corelli and an original masterpiece in its own right.

Billboard chart-topping violinist Rachel Barton Pine, “one of the rare mainstream performers with a total grasp of Baroque style and embellishment” (Fanfare) and her colleagues in Trio Settecento, cellist John Mark Rozendaal, and harpsichordist David Schrader, bring their “refreshing, life-enhancing Baroque playing” (Chicago Tribune) to these sonatas infused with melodies imported from Scotland, Dalmatia, Poland, the Canary Islands, and rural France.

American violinist Rachel Barton Pine marks the 25th anniversary of her 1997 recording of violin concertos by Black composers of the 18th and 19th centuries with Violin Concertos by Black Composers Through the Centuries. This special-edition reissue updates and expands the original program into the 20th century with Pine’s recent recording of Florence Price’s Violin Concerto No. 2, composed in 1952. The 1997 release established the violinist’s reputation as a passionate advocate for composers of African descent. Pine recorded Price’s Second Violin Concerto with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, conducted by rising young American conductor Jonathon Heyward, who has held conducting and guest conducting positions with prominent European and American orchestras. The violinist reprises her previous recordings of masterworks by Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges (1775), José White Lafitte (1864), and Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1899), all with Chicago’s Encore Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Daniel Hege. The New York Times declared: “Rachel Barton [Pine] handles the concertos’ varied demands with unaffected aplomb, performing this music lovingly.”

REVIEW:

This is more than an anniversary reissue. Cedille updates the release by including a new recording. When Rachel Barton Pine recorded these works in 1997, she was an explorer. The works—and even the names—of Black composers were virtually unknown. Barton’s committed and electrifying performances brought these works to light.

This reissue includes Price’s Second Violin Concerto. Price wrote it shortly before her death in 1952. It had never been performed and was considered lost. The concerto was part of the cache of Price manuscripts rediscovered in 2009. It’s a compact concerto—less than 15 minutes long—but it packs a punch. Barton’s performance crackles with good-natured energy. And the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, directed by Jonathon Heyward, is right there with her.

With the addition of this work, Barton’s survey of Black composers runs from the 1790s through the 1950s. To me, the reissue is a more comprehensive survey, and a more satisfying listen.

--WTJU

Jennifer Koh is a really good violinist, and this enterprising program showcases her skills comprehensively. Schubert's remarkable late Fantasie in C for Violin and Piano D. 934 still isn't as well known as his other late works, perhaps because he wrote so little music for this combination, but it's a major masterpiece and Koh plays it like one. Her tone is wistful at the opening, lively in the allegros, and in general more gutsy (all to the good) than the recent Shiokawa/Schiff rendition on ECM. Her partner, Reiko Uchida, shares her conception of the piece and isn't afraid to take center stage when called for, particularly in the work's latter stages.


I actually prefer this piano and violin arrangement of Schumann's Fantasie in C Op. 131 to his rather soggy original for violin and orchestra, scored in his most monochrome late style. Koh and Uchida find a lightness and lyricism in the piece that allows us to enjoy the beautiful tunes free of their orchestral shackles, and you would never know that this was not Schumann's intention all along. I'm less thrilled with the Schoenberg Phantasy, which is played about as beautifully as it can be, but it's ugly music and out of place in this context despite the eloquent case made for it in the very detailed and articulate booklet notes by Andrea Lamoreaux. This is one of those cases where the lineup perhaps appears better in theory than in practice, though Ornette Coleman's soulful "Trinity" Fantasy for solo violin does sound right at home here for some reason and makes a fine conclusion to an enterprising program.


Sonically this disc is simply gorgeous. The balances between piano and violin turn out to be just about perfect, and the lower octaves of the keyboard have a depth and presence, especially in piano passages, that is simply thrilling. I would recommend this disc on technical grounds alone, even if the artistic side weren't as successful as it clearly is. So despite my small reservation regarding the inclusion of the Schoenberg (and others may differ with me there), this is a pretty terrific recording on all counts, and the Schubert and Schumann performances make it essential listening for fans of those composers.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

VIOLIN LULLABIES • Rachel Barton Pine (vn); Matthew Hagle (pn) • ÇEDILLE 90000 139 (68:35)

BRAHMS Wiegenlied. YSAŸE Rêve d’enfant. REBIKOV Berceuse. BEACH Berceuse No 2. SCHWAB Berceuse Ecossaise. RESPIGHI Berceuse. GERSHWIN Summertime. FALLA Nana. FAURÉ Berceuse. SIBELIUS Berceuse No. 6. VIARDOT-GARCIA Berceuse No. 3. HOVHANNES Oror. STRAVINSKY Firebird: Berceuse. RAVEL Berceuse sur le Nom de Fauré. CLARKE Lullaby. SCHUBERT Wiegenlied. SCHUMANN Cradle Song. DUROSOIR Berceuse No. 4. GRIEG Berceuse. ANTSEV Au Berceau. R. STRAUSS Wiegenlied. SIVORI Berceuse. BERAUD Petite Reine Berceuse. STILL Mother and Child. REGER Wiegenlied

What a beautiful recording this is! It fills a real need as well. A mother or father can put this recording on and relax listening to its clear and present sound while feeding and bonding with the baby. This album also gives us a chance to see how composers from different cultures and different eras handled this particular type of composition. The CD opens with the universally loved Brahms Lullaby , which Rachel Barton Pine says her mother sang to her. You may have had the same experience. Mine sang it to me in German. Johannes Brahms wrote his Wiegenlied or Cradle Song in 1868 to celebrate the birth of a second son to his Viennese friends Arthur and Bertha Faber. Eugène Ysaÿe wrote his Rêve d’Enfant for his own son, Antoine, who would later be his father’s biographer and publisher. In 1913, he actually recorded it, too, at a very slow tempo. Pine and Hagle play the Ysaÿe and Brahms pieces at moderate tempos and with great delicacy of tone. Their notes fall as gently as rose petals. Vladimir Rebikov is a little known composer whose music leads into the compositions of Debussy, Scriabin, and even Stravinsky. Pine plays Amy Beach’s Berceuse (lullaby) using a warm toned mute that evokes daydreams. Listening to her play it is a calming antidote to everyday stress. Ludwig Schwab’s lullaby clothes the baby in an aural tartan coverlet as Pine and Hagle play the composer’s version of a Scottish tune. Pine also renders Respighi’s long-lined melody with a warm-toned mute while Hagle plays the piano part with the fleetest of fingers. We all know the tune of George Gershwin’s Summertime, but Pine gives us her own fascinating take on it. Pine uses a mute with a rather mysterious tone for Manuel de Falla’s Spanish Nana. Its words, “Sleep little star of the morning,” might hit a familiar note with parents! Gabriel Fauré’s pastel tones and Jean Sibelius’s charming melody bring us back to cooler lands and sweet invitations to slumber. Research shows that neither Rebecca Clarke nor Amy Beach had children, so of the women composers represented here only the famous singer and pianist Pauline Viardot-Garcia could have sung her lullaby to her own baby. The music of Alan Hovhaness always had a hint of mystery and this early lullaby is no exception. Pine and Hagle play it smoothly, so that its inventive harmonies fascinate the ear. The Firebird is a ballet based on a folk tale about a magical creature that sings at night and pecks at golden fruit. Its eloquent music spices up the middle of this disc with its unique harmonies.

Maurice Ravel’s music envelopes the listener in its gossamer fabric and its colors dance in the air. Rebecca Clarke was a violist and her contribution makes use of the violin’s lower strings. The delicate radiance of Pine’s rendition holds the listener in thrall. Like the Brahms, Schubert’s Cradle Song is a familiar tune. Here it is rendered in flawless form complete with gorgeous double-stopping. The Schumann Slumber Song is one of his lesser-known pieces. Like the Durosoir that follows, it massages the ears. So do the charming Grieg and Antsev pieces. I hope we get to hear more of the latter’s music. Pine and Hagle’s version of Richard Strauss’s Cradle Song strikes a delicate balance between lullaby and concert aria. Like Respighi, Camillo Sivori wrote his music with the long lines of bel canto and topped it off with a challenging finale that Pine tosses off with ease. Victor Beraud is the pen name of British composer G. Frank Blackbourne. He wrote his Lullaby for a Little Queen for piano. Edward Elgar then arranged it for violin and piano. African-American composer William Grant Still wrote his warm toned and inviting yet intense Mother and Child in 1943. Max Reger’s Cradle Song , a dreamy invitation to sleep, shows a very different side of his creativity. In addition to the music on this CD, there is a download available with three more lullabies: Alexander Iljinsky’s Berceuse No. 7 from the opera Noure and Anitra, Xavier Montsalvatge’s Nana, and Betty King Jackson’s Lullaby. These three show the variety of cultures that lullabies cover. Pine and Hagle play each of them idiomatically with great attention to detail and the ultimate in musical values. This is a truly beautiful disc and I think it will have great appeal to our readers.

FANFARE: Maria Nockin

There is some gorgeous playing here, stylishly ornamented and beautifully floated, with a seemingly inexhaustible air supply. - Deseret News - Salt Lake City

The viola d’amore is a curious beast. It has extra strings (like the baryton) that exist for no purpose other than to provide resonance, producing a fuzzy timbral halo that sweetens the slightly nasal, husky tone of the instrument, rather like a sort of mild continuous vibrato. When played with perfect intonation such as we might expect from Rachel Barton Pine, the result is captivatingly mellow and expressive, even in virtuoso passages. Vivaldi composed eight concertos for viola d’amore, and here they all are, smartly gathered together and performed to the hilt.

Although Vivaldi limited himself tonally in these works (to D, F, and A, with four in D minor), the instrument’s unusual tunings, combined with inventive scoring, ensure variety and contrast. The Concerto in F major pits the viola d’amore against a wind ensemble of oboes, horns, and bassoon, with the oboes and horns muted. I’m not sure what a muted baroque oboe is, but they sound lovely here and the horns also never turn gnarly–they really do complement the timbre of the viola d’amore. There’s also a double concerto, RV 540, for viola d’amore and lute, with the superb Hopkinson Smith on hand to partner Barton Pine.

The players of Ars Antigua accompany with evident relish, although as usual with today’s period instrument groups the strings could use some natural vibrato in the slow movements. Leaving it out or minimizing it the way they do is neither stylish nor “authentic”, but when the playing itself is so pointed and in tune it matters very little. The fact that the sonics are drop-dead gorgeous and the balances absolutely perfect also counts for a lot. If you thought that Vivaldi all sounds the same, consider this release as a welcome corrective.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday

VIVALDI: Vocal and Instrumental Works

It’s impossible to know what is in the mind of a composer through the process of writing a piece, but that doesn’t stop people from speculating regarding motivation, intentions, or supposed “meaning” or extra-musical representations in a given work. Dover Quartet cellist Camden Shaw comments on this in his excellent notes to this new release, even admitting to the quartet’s own subjectively applied imagery and how it impacted their “personal response to the [Shostakovich] ”. Yet it’s hard to imagine that, while trying to survive the day to day horrors of a concentration camp (Ullmann, Laks), or experiencing life in a besieged country ravaged by death, deprivation, and destruction (Shostakovich) the music that you write wouldn’t be more than a little affected by these circumstances.

None of the three works here has any declared programmatic intent, but knowing their provenance–Ullmann wrote his quartet while a prisoner in Theresienstadt in 1943; Laks composed his in 1945, after his liberation from years in Auschwitz; Shostakovich’s work came during a stay north of Moscow as war still raged during the summer of 1944–makes it easy to hear within the pages of each, so profoundly and movingly realized by the Dover musicians, more than mere echoes of the myriad, often conflicting emotions arising from the ever-present, inescapable tension and turmoil. Not surprisingly, these include both sadness and longing, but there are also moments in each of these works of beauty and optimism, as well as assertiveness. Whether some or all of these expressive components might add up to something called “defiance”—say, in these works’ more aggressive passages, or perhaps by the simple expression of hope, of serenity in the face of depression, violence, and death—is for each listener to decide.

Viktor Ullmann’s Quartet No. 3 is one of the finest quartets of the 20th century, immediately engaging from those opening seventh chords to the final (defiant?) G major exclamations. Descriptions of the work always include references to Schoenberg (with whom Ullmann studied), and though the influence is discernible (the harmonic freedom; a brief flirtation with a tone row), the style and structure are modeled more traditionally. And while Ullmann plays with tonal ambiguity here and there, the work remains in the tonal world.

Commentators–and even publishers–seem to disagree about the quartet’s organization: four movements? five? or two, as presented in this Dover performance? The Dovers combine the first three sections–Allegro moderato, Presto, Largo–almost without pause, which makes good musical sense; the “second movement” is more like a coda, short, fast, assertive, “mischievous”, darting and dancing until its brief recall of those opening chords.

The Dovers choose to slightly underplay certain dynamics and soften some of the score’s indicated articulations and accents, making contrasts less extreme than they might be (narrowing the range from forte to triple-forte, for instance, in the second movement; the light treatment of cello accents early in the first movement; the barely-there crescendo to forte in the opening measures). But there’s a consistency and balance to the quartet’s approach to this music whose poignancy is still quite real and truly projected. It’s a mystery why this work has received only a handful of recordings; it should be in every quartet’s repertoire, and in every music-lover’s library.

The Shostakovich String Quartet No. 2, on the other hand, has been recorded many times, and quite well, notably by another group on this same Cedille label, the Pacifica Quartet (see reviews). The Dover Quartet adds another exemplary performance, highlighted by the opening and closing minutes of the second movement–entrancing, reflective, serene, yet somehow intriguingly dark. In the third movement a disjointed waltz turns excitingly frenetic–made all the more effective by the Dover’s exacting articulation; the final movement conveys both “tension” and “dread”, just as Shaw describes. It’s a compelling, confident performance–perhaps that “imagery” Shaw and his colleagues imposed on the work really did make a difference!

Yes, we can imagine a “train whistle” at the opening of Szymon Laks’ String Quartet No. 3, as Shaw observes, followed by other allusions to a train ride theme. But you could more easily imagine something more abstract, as the music quickly becomes absorbed in developing Laks’ chosen Polish folk song thematic material. I have to say I wasn’t as enthralled with this work as I anticipated, based on first reading Shaw’s description of the music. Laks has an impressive and very moving story, having survived Auschwitz for more than two years, forced to perform music for his Nazi captors–and for prisoners going to their deaths.

The four-movement quartet stylistically fits very neatly in the company of Ullmann and Shostakovich; much of the musical language is similar (harmonic palette, off-kilter dance rhythms, for instance), yet, although written later than the other two quartets on the program, this work is far more “traditional” in its overall sound and manner. It also struck me as less idiomatic: it doesn’t immediately convince of its string quartet credibility, an essential string quartet nature and character.

Shaw was quite touched by the second movement (“one of the most impassioned and heartbreaking movements for string quartet I’ve ever heard”), and you may be too: it is very beautiful and obviously written from a place of deep reflection and emotion–and the Dovers play it that way. The other movements have moments of brilliance and beauty as well, from the playful, extended pizzicato of the third to the nifty, rich-textured, cleverly varied treatment of the folk melodies in the fourth. (Laks also doesn’t fail to show a bit of a sense of humor–or is it actually something more serious?– displayed in the very endings of the second and last movements.) For me, this piece is a little too long and perhaps guilty of overworking some of its material, but it’s also easy to hear how it would be fun to play, and would make an engrossing concert work.

The Dover Quartet has already demonstrated its deserved place among the world’s premier ensembles, and here, in its exploration and illumination of two lesser-known but also deserving composers and works, rescued from the ashes of mid-20th century Europe, shows a commitment not only to upholding the highest technical and interpretive standards, but to entertain and encourage inquisitive, open-eared audiences. And I should mention that the sound, from the Banff Centre in Alberta, Canada, expertly captures the “feel”, the presence of a string quartet playing live. Here also is another example of imaginative, enlightened–and enlightening–programming. Highly recommended.

– ClassicsToday.com (David Vernier)

Czech composer Jan Vorišek (1791-1825) was a talented musician just beginning to make a name for himself, particularly as a composer of piano music, when he died prematurely of tuberculosis. The excessively enthusiastic notes to this release take full advantage of speculative historical hindsight and describe his orchestral style as an amalgam of Beethoven's (which he may have known) and Schubert's (which he certainly didn't), asserting in passing that "Beethoven was never a great melodist...(!)" This hardly corresponds to the reality of what you actually hear on the disc, but it represents the only questionable aspect of this otherwise splendid production.


Vorišek's style arises directly from the classical language of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. Of incipient Romanticism or the Schubertian long melodic line there's nary a trace, and the music is none the worse for that. His single symphony might pass for early Beethoven: indeed, the end of the first movement exposition apparently lifts a famous passage directly from the finale of the older composer's Fourth Symphony, but this doesn't diminish Vorišek's modest originality. You can hear this at work, among other places, in the characterful use of timpani at the very beginning and in the wonderfully passionate minor-key opening of the slow movement. For some time now, the reference recording of this piece has been Charles Mackerras' reading on Hyperion with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra. Paul Freeman does him one better, having a superior orchestra, more tactile recorded sound, and slightly broader tempos that, combined with punchier accents (especially in the first movement), give the piece an appropriately grander stature. Let's just say that Freeman evidently views the work as closer to Beethoven while Mackerras places it closer to Haydn and Mozart.


Mackerras couples the Vorišek symphony with another singleton effort, by Arriaga. Cedille gives us more Vorišek, his marvelous Mass in B-flat, which (I believe) receives its CD debut recording here. This piece really is a find. Close in style to the language of Haydn's late masses, it contains numerous original touches, such as the thrilling augmentation of the fugue subject toward the end of the Gloria, an almost violent Crucifixus characterized by syncopated rhythms and jagged interjections from trumpets and drums, a sweetly lyrical second Hosanna following the Benedictus, and a startling ending scored for pianissimo timpani and brass. Its stylistic provenance may be clear, but there's no other mass setting quite like it, and fans of choral music really owe it to themselves to give it a listen.


Once again Freeman turns in an excellent performance (though he should have had a soloist intone the opening lines of the Gloria and Credo, as Vorišek, designing the work for a genuine liturgical setting, leaves these to the officiating priest). His soloists manage their assignments capably, the Prague Chamber Chorus sings with appropriate fervor, and the recording copes with the vast reverberation of the Rudolfinum in Prague very well. At the loudest moments the textures tend to thicken a bit, but this seems primarily a result of Vorišek's tendency to keep all of the parts close to their middle register, creating a certain density of sound (and I suspect making the work easier to perform by early 19th century church choirs). This is, in any case, a major release and a very pleasant surprise. Good work, Cedille.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Grammy Award-winner Alex Klein, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s principal oboe emeritus, and pianist Phillip Bush perform works by composers from both sides of the Atlantic who were caught up in or deeply moved by 20th-century political turmoil. The Brazilian-born oboe virtuoso’s passionate project, with its underlying appeal for tolerance, encompasses works by Czech, German, British, American, and Brazilian composers. Much of the music evinces a calm lyricism and melodious beauty that belie the composers’ difficult circumstances. Some were exiled from their native countries, others despaired of impending war. One, Pavel Haas, died in Auschwitz. Paul Hindemith’s 1938 Sonata for Oboe and Piano, written in Swiss exile, is said to represent happier days in his native Germany. Pavel Haas’s Suite for Oboe and Piano, composed at the outset of Nazi occupation of Czechoslovakia, shares the complex musical language of his teacher, Leoš Janácek. William Bolcom’s ultimately hopeful Aubade – for the Continuation of Life, written amid early 1980s fears of nuclear war, forges a fragile coexistence between cello and piano. Benjamin Britten’s Temporal Variations, written on the eve of World War II, expresses the composer’s anti-militarism. José Siqueira wrote his tuneful Three Etudes for Oboe with Piano Accompaniment shortly before fleeing Brazil’s military dictatorship. Klement Slavický’s professional musical career had been derailed by the Czech Communist regime by the time he wrote his virtuosic Suite for Oboe and Piano.

Anthony McGill, the New York Philharmonic’s principal clarinetist, and brother Demarre McGill, the Seattle Symphony Orchestra’s principal flutist, return to a beloved training ground, the Chicago Youth Symphony Orchestras (CYSO), for an album of works for flute, clarinet, and orchestra featuring world-premiere recordings of specially commissioned duo concertos. The album’s title track, celebrated African-American film and concert composer Michael Abels’ Winged Creatures, was commissioned for the project by Cedille Records. Inspired by the flight of butterflies and other creatures, its solo parts are, in turns, delicate, frenetic, soaring, and powerful. The orchestra originally commissioned Joel Puckett’s Concerto Duo for a 2012 concert with the McGill brothers. The work evokes family affection and sibling camaraderie. Franz Danzi’s virtuosic and elegant Sinfonia Concertante for Flute, Clarinet, and Orchestra, Op. 41, is a tour de force of late-Classical charm. Saint-Saëns’ youthful, virtuosic Tarantelle, Op. 6, draws inspiration from a southern Italian folk dance. It is something of a signature piece for the McGills, who performed the piano-accompanied version on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood when the brothers were 18 and 14, respectively.

REVIEW:

The Chicago Youth Orchestra are impressive for their age. The McGill brothers charge forward with a dynamic and indefatigable zest that is captivating and even exciting to hear. It is one of those couplings where everything works together, that matches up well with performers and compositions that fit together in absorbing ways. The new works are mainstream Modern and well crafted, nicely wrought. Definitely recommended.

– Gapplegate Classical-Modern Music Review

John Corigliano is such an accomplished orchestrator that you might be surprised at how well his piano music sounds. The truth is, he simply has a gift for finding brilliant sonorities no matter what instrument he happens to be writing for. He uses the full range of the piano, often turning to extremes of register, but always to good musical and expressive purpose. The works here are highly varied in style and conception, but are invariably enjoyable.

Winging It, subtitled "Improvisations for Piano", is exactly what the name implies: three improvisations captured in real time and then subsequently notated. Chiaroscuro requires two pianos tuned a quarter-tone apart, but it never sounds gratuitously dissonant--there's that feeling for sonority again. Fantasia on an Ostinato, based on the famous Allegretto of Beethoven's Seventh, is one of Corigliano's best-known pieces. Kaleidoscope, also for two pianos, is an early jeu d'esprit, while the Etude Fantasy never lets the didactic element get in the way of musical enjoyment.

The performances here are pretty stupendous. Ursula Oppens takes all the solos, and she's joined by Jerome Lowenthal in the duo pieces. Her playing is spirited, subtle, colorful, and wholly winning. She conveys the freedom of the improvisations in Winging It and chooses an excellent timing for the optional repetitions in the Fantasia on an Ostinato (it lasts a bit more than 11 minutes). In Chiaroscuro, careful attention to balance and dynamics reveals the wonderful colors of this evocative score. The beautifully calibrated engineering, brilliant but never harsh or brittle, helps immeasurably. A disc to treasure.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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Though there is not a lot of piano music by the American composer John Corigliano, his music that does exist for the instrument is varied and high in quality. All of the compositions here—written over the course of some 50 years, almost one per decade—each inhabits its own sound world. The earliest piece, Kaleidoscope (1959), is a two-piano work from Corigliano’s student days. It is a short work filled with the high-energy writing of a young composer. The next composition, the Etude Fantasy (1976), is a virtuosic tour de force . It is made up of five etudes, each dedicated to a different compositional device or technical aspect of performance—titled “For the Left Hand Alone,” “Legato,” “Fifths to Thirds,” “Ornaments,” and “Melody”—which are woven into a continuous fantasy. It is at times mysterious and foreboding, at others downright brutal. It shows off Corigliano’s wonderful sense of color and sonority and his overall sense of the dramatic in terms of building a larger work out of smaller ones. It is a wonderful composition that should be heard and programmed more often than it is. One of Corigliano’s more popular works, the Fantasia on an Ostinato (1985), was written for the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. In it Corigliano went for something a bit different, rejecting the idea of a technical showpiece, deciding rather to test the musical imagination and force the interpreters to create rather than re-create, as he describes it. It is his only self-proclaimed experiment in Minimalist techniques; in its original setting at the competition, the various performances ran from an overall timing of seven to more than 20 minutes. Oppens seems to find a time right in the middle (11:26), which to my ears works just about perfectly. Chiaroscuro (1997) is composed of three movements for two pianos tuned one quarter-tone apart. Before writing it, Corigliano struggled with the reasoning behind writing another work for this medium, finding his inspiration finally from a deadline for a commission for the Murray Dranoff International Two Piano Competition. By pre-tuning the instruments he felt that he could draw out the even more subtle and intense intervals between the standard ones. He has here come up with a highly enjoyable and easily listenable work. The final and latest composition, Winging It (2008), was a project in improvisation and transcription. Each of the three works (labeled just by the date he played and recorded them) started off as an improvisation. As the transcription took place, the pieces were altered slightly before reaching their current states. Throughout the recital Oppens (and her partner Lowenthal in the two-piano works) show off their flair for this music with readings of high energy, nuance, and subtlety. Corigliano could not ask for better advocates. Perhaps this fabulous recital will inspire the performance of more of this music. We could ask for nothing more.


FANFARE: Scott Noriega