Search results: Search results
43 results
Products
-
-
-
SaleForgotten Voices - A Song Cycle for Voices & Strings / Kelly Hall-Tompkins
Avie Records · Mar 2023CD$19.99$9.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
SaleKastalsky: Requiem for Fallen Brothers / Slatkin, Orchestra of St. Luke's
Naxos · Aug 2020CD$19.99$9.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Jones: Missa Spes Nostra - Ludford: Ave Cujus Conceptio - Hunt: Stabat Mater
Blue Heron Renaissance Choir · Aug 2015CD$21.99 -
-
-
Janacek: Jenufa / Vejzovic, Briscein, Vermillion, Kaftan, Graz Philharmonic
Oehms Classics · Jul 2015CD$31.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
Oboe Rarities: Original Works for Oboe & Piano / Calcagni, Magagni
Vermeer Records · Jun 2019CD$16.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
SaleFuchs: Serenades Nos. 1 & 2 / Christian Ludwig, Cologne Chamber Orchestra
Naxos · Mar 2011CD$19.99$9.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
Schoenberg: Violin Concerto, A Survivor From Warsaw, Etc / Craft, Schulte
Naxos · Oct 2008CD$19.99 -
SaleAmerican in Paris (An) / Porgy and Bess Suite / Gershwin in Hollywood
Naxos · May 2002CD$19.99$9.99
Forgotten Voices - A Song Cycle for Voices & Strings / Kelly Hall-Tompkins
Multi-award-winning violinist Kelly Hall-Tompkins is the entrepreneurial spirit behind Music Kitchen, the pioneering project that brings top classical music and musicians into homeless shelters, sharing the inspirational, therapeutic, and uplifting power of music with those experiencing homelessness. Founded in New York City, Music Kitchen has presented over 100 concerts to more than 30,000 homeless shelter clients coast to coast, including in Los Angeles, Cincinnati, Oakland, Rochester, and internationally in Paris, France. According to the New York Times, “The concerts have an air of authenticity and directness that sometimes does not exist in concert halls.”
Forgotten Voices is a song cycle commissioned by Music Kitchen – Food for the Soul, with support from Carnegie Hall, comprising works by 15 of today’s foremost composers featuring evocative and poignant texts by homeless shelter clients that have provided a profound source of inspiration and reverence. Forgotten Voices premiered to a sold-out Carnegie Hall audience in March 2022 and inspired a short film that has won multiple awards at festivals around the globe, including Winner: Best Cause-Driven Film and Finalist: Best Director and Best Documentary at the Cannes World Film Festival, Winner: Best Short Film at the Los Angeles Documentary Film Festival, and Winner: Best Short Documentary at the Berlin Indie Film Festival.
REVIEWS:
Violinist Kelly Hall-Tompkins is the entrepreneurial spirit behind Music Kitchen and the composer of one of the songs. She and 5 other string players, supply accompaniment to the 4 singers. I presume it is she who plays so nimbly in `Music Kitchen Interplay’ by Ellen Taaffe Zwilich with a text from a client who is amazed at what a violin can do and who gives thanks for how Music Kitchen “was a blessing to my hungry body and soul”.
The longest song of the album, Jeffrey Scott’s `Für Mein Vater’, is a setting of the poet’s fond remembrance of his father’s love of Mozart and Brahms, which was rekindled by hearing Music Kitchen perform it. It is sung sensitively by Allison Charney. Each time I listen to these songs I hear something new to like.
The program ends sublimely with Paul Moravec’s `Music is Love’. The words offer a strong statement about the values of this project and of music itself: “Music is love. It’s freedom, awakening. Music is universal. Music unites us all. Music expands our horizons. Classical music enables you to discover yourself.” After about a 20-second pause the song is repeated in a longer version for all four singers in harmony. I suspect this was sung as an encore at the concert. These final two tracks are especially lovely.
Each of the songs brings a message of gratitude or hope even in the midst of personal struggle. Collectively the album conveys consolation and the healing power of love. The songs call for excellent string playing, and these folks produce it brilliantly. The two sopranos sing with great expression and are especially poignant in their softer singing...Blumberg...begins the program with a tender reading of Steve Sandberg’s `Thank You’. Songs texts are included, though they are hardly needed—the singers’ diction is very clear most of the time. I find the songs appealing. I find the mission of Music Kitchen even more appealing.
-- American Record Guide
CAPRI CLOUDS
Two Forgotten English Pianists / Howard-Jones, Isaacs
THE TWO PIANISTS featured here were contemporaries, both English. Both made a small number of recordings for Columbia between 1926 and 1930 and today are largely forgotten. Howard-Jones was of an academic nature whose interpretations were described as having ‘scholarly and fastidious profundity’. He excelled in Bach and Brahms and his ‘Well-Tempered Clavier’ recordings in particular offer playing of rare spirituality and beauty. As a friend of the composer and dedicatee of five of the piano pieces, his Delius recordings, which comprise the complete meagre published output for solo piano by the composer, have a unique authority. Edward Isaacs, who revelled in the repertoire of Chopin and Liszt, was described as ‘a kindly genial companion and a witty charming raconteur’. His recordings radiate brilliance and joie de vivre. This is the first time most of these discs have been reissued since the days of the original 78s. An added bonus is the discovery of a wonderful previously unpublished Howard-Jones recording of Beethoven’s Rondo in G major.
La Muse Oubliee II
Pianist Antonio Oyarzabal continues to show us in this album that a multitude of female composers, who deserve to be known and recognized, still remain forgotten. On this occasion, he offers us a selection of pieces by 18 unique authors, most of them pianists, from different periods and geographical origins. In all cases, their professional development was hindered by their status as women and by the social pressure of the historical period in which they lived. Oyarzabal finds intense and authentic artistic stimulation in the process of researching their career paths and in the enthusiastic interpretation of their music. This second part of “La Muse Oubliée” does not intend to bring any sort of closure. On the contrary, it represents the continuation of a project as large as the number of female composers who have yet to be included…
Beyond / Jakub Jozef Orlinski
"We take you on a journey that leads to new places - beyond the places you know," is how Jakub Josef Orlinski describes the idea behind his album Beyond. The multiple award-winning countertenor has already been celebrated by international critics for his selection of works for his album Facce d'amore. Now he has put together an extraordinary program of vocal and instrumental works by 18 composers of the early Italian Baroque. They were important figures in their day, but their names have since been almost forgotten. Alongside Claudio Monteverdi, Giulio Caccini, Johann Caspar Kerll and Francesco Cavalli are certainly among the musicians who are still known today - but they are rarely heard: Names such as Pallavicino, Marini and Jarzebski.
Together with musicologist Yannis François, the countertenor delved deep into the repertoire of the 17th century and unearthed a repertoire that is second to none: "This music reaches beyond its time. It is still lively, vibrant, moving and entertaining," says Orlinski enthusiastically. His selection includes ten world premiere recordings, for example the aria "Dolcissime catene" from Giovanni Cesare Netti's opera La moglie del fratello. The album is also a varied compilation of arias, cantatas, madrigals, concerti and purely instrumental works such as sonatas and symphonies. In the original sound ensemble Il Pomo d'Oro, Jakub Josef Orlinski has found a musical partner full of esprit and enthusiasm.
George Szell - The Forgotten Recordings / Cleveland Orchestra
SOMM RECORDINGS announces the first release of never before available performances by one of the defining partnerships of modern American music in the specially priced two-album set George Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra: The Forgotten Recordings. Long considered one of America’s “Big Five” orchestras, the Cleveland Orchestra entered its second century in 2018 and earlier this year was hailed by The New York Times as “America’s finest [orchestra] still”.
The Forgotten Recordings features eight historic performances made for the Book-of-the-Month Club in 1954 and 1955 – seven of which are first releases – that have been restored and remastered by the multi-award-winning audio restoration engineer Lani Spahr, who also provides extensive and informative booklet notes. Three works – Bach’s Third Orchestral Suite (BWV 1068), a revealing engagement by Szell with a composer he is not usually associated with, Smetana’s The Moldau and Strauss’s Till Eulenspiegel (with an early spotlight on legendary horn player Myron Bloom) were recorded in mono in a remarkably productive session on Christmas Eve, 1954.From October 1955 in stereo recordings are two works by Brahms – his Haydn Variations and the Academic Festival Overture, two symphonies – Mozart’s No.39 and Schumann’s Fourth – and a Stravinsky Firebird Suite that “crackles with energy”. “Here”, says Spahr, “we can appreciate that the orchestra was well on its way to becoming, in Szell’s words, ‘this glorious instrument... that perfectly reflects my musical ideals’.”
REVIEW:
George Szell’s tenure as music director of the Cleveland Orchestra began in 1946 and ended with his death in 1970. He can be credited for transforming the orchestra into a first class ensemble, with its own characteristic sound and style. When he first accepted the position, he vowed to "dedicate all [his] efforts…to make The Cleveland Orchestra second to none in quality of performance." Musicians were hired and fired in an effort to achieve this goal – a warm, refined sound, clarity and technical perfection, demanding total commitment from the players. His lofty goal was eventually achieved.
These ‘Forgotten’ recordings were made for the Book-of-the-Month Club (BOMC), a mail order outfit that dealt with popular books sold by subscription. In 1954 it made the decision to branch out into classical LPs, with accompanying analysis of the works by such noted writers as Thomas Scherman and Deems Taylor. Many of the issues were licensed from labels such as Vanguard, Vox and Decca, conducted by some notable names - Max Rudolf, Alfred Wallenstein, Fritz Stiedry and Leonard Bernstein. George Szell was also approached by the company and was happy to accept, considering it a means of supplementing his musician’s income.
On December 24 1954, the first recording session took place at the Masonic Auditorium, Cleveland, with the Bach, Smetana and Richard Strauss works, music that had recently featured in subscription concerts. The session was recorded in mono. The rest of the works featured in the set date from 1955 and are in stereo.
Bach is not a composer one usually associates with Szell. Though HIP had a long way to go, Szell pares his orchestra down, and employs a harpsichord continuo. Tempi throughout don’t drag, with the dance movements being quite animated. The ubiquitous Air is nicely paced. There’s some wonderfully refined woodwind playing in Smetana’s Moldau (Vitava), and the recording balance enables the river’s rippling undercurrents to form a vivid backdrop. Szell never overdoes it with the brass, which lets down some performances, but steers everything along maintaining balance and proportion. The quieter moments are quite magical. Strauss’ Till Eulenspiegel features the renowned horn player Myron Bloom in one of his first appearances on record. A year later he became the orchestra’s principal horn. The performance captures the very essence of the witty, light hearted, mischievous prankster, and reveals the discipline and virtuosity of the Cleveland players, especially in the brass and woodwind sections.
Over three days in October 1955, five more works were recorded for BOMC, this time in the new stereophonic sound. Szell takes a rather more relaxed view of Mozart’s Symphony No.39, which is free-flowing, refined and eloquently phrased. The Menuetto is lively with a distinct spring in its step, and the finale is truly exhilarating. There’s a bracing account of Brahms’ Academic Festival overture, infused with spirit and celebration. Szell’s approach is warm-hearted in the composer’s Variations on a Theme by Haydn. The performance is well-paced and the variations are deftly-characterized.
There’s a purposeful reading of Schumann’s Fourth Symphony, soused throughout with drama and tension. The Romanze excels for its tender moments. Szell injects plenty of energy into the fourth movement, and the orchestra respond with gusto and panache. Stravinsky’s Firebird is heard in the 1919 version. It’s an atmospheric account of many moods. There’s the captivating lyricism of the Round of the Princess, which contrasts strikingly with the Infernal Dance of King Kastchei, where Szell invests the music with an extra ounce of punch and sizzle. I certainly concur with Lani Spahr that this is the highlight of the set.
Comparing the three mono recordings with those taped in stereo, the latter have a degree more bloom to the sound and register more presence. All the works featured are making a first appearance on CD, with the exception of Brahms’ Variations on a Theme by Haydn. These compelling aural documents have been expertly restored by Lani Spahr, who has also contributed the booklet notes, running to 19 pages. All in all, the entire project is an unmitigated success.
– MusicWeb International (Stephen Greenbank)
Kathleen Ferrier Remembered
-----
REVIEW:
Listening to these newly retrieved from BBC broadcasts and never released before, I am struck over again by the great contralto’s overriding characteristic – her natural, unfettered generosity. In song after song, she gives all of herself, nothing held back. She simply soars.
New to her discography on this release are six English tracks – three Psalms that Edmund Rubbra wrote for her in 1946, and others by Stanford, Parry, and the lesser-known Maurice Jacobsen, a mentor of hers. The songs belong to an almost forgotten era of English simplicity and Ferrier delivers them in the most idiomatic fashion, without advocacy or ornament.
I would not want to be without this record of an immortal artist, and nor will you once you have heard it.
– Open Letters Monthly (Norman Lebrecht)
Kastalsky: Requiem for Fallen Brothers / Slatkin, Orchestra of St. Luke's
A 2020 GRAMMY nominee for Best Choral Performance!
Alexander Kastalsky was a student of Tchaikovsky and a mentor to Rachmaninov, becoming director of the Moscow Synodal School until the Bolshevik regime banned all sacred music, including the extraordinary Requiem for Fallen Brothers which consequently lay forgotten for over a century. The Requiem is a rich and varied mosaic that honors those who perished in the First World War, poignantly combining Orthodox and Gregorian chant with hymns from the allied nations, even including Rock of Ages. This unprecedented and peerless monument to those who made the ultimate sacrifice was acclaimed on its 1917 premiere as a ‘uniquely Russian requiem that… gave musical voice to the tears of many nations.’ This is a world premiere recording.
-----
REVIEW:
One of Russia’s foremost composers of Orthodox church music, Alexander Kastalsky (1856-1926) is remembered for assisting Rachmaninov with his All-Night Vigil. During World War I, Kastalsky composed his Requiem for Fallen Brothers in honour of Russia and her allies: using a full orchestra, and mingling texts and melodies from the Orthodox, Anglican and Catholic Churches, Kastalsky also included textless tributes to the Indian and Japanese forces. Most of the music is clearly steeped in the Orthodox tradition, infused with memories of Mozart’s Requiem, but includes disquieting elements such as the Musorgsky-like funeral bell chord which makes ominous reappearances, like the bell in Britten’s War Requiem. After its 1917 premiere, Kastalsky added a further three movements including one honouring Russia’s new ally, America. The October Revolution precluded their performance, and the work was not heard again until 1977 when Yevgeny Svetlanov conducted the earlier 1917 version, its liturgical texts inevitably replaced with Soviet-style sentiments: this was recorded, but is currently only available as part of an expensive 11-disc Melodiya set.
Leonard Slatkin and his first-rate team of musicians now present the first complete recording. The ‘new’ post-1917 movements include a ‘Beati mortui’ sparkling with sleigh bells and piano figuration; a sombre bass solo ‘Kakaya sladost’, which for a moment enters a hellish region with shadowed smears and slitherings from the orchestra; and the American hymn ‘Rock of Ages’ bizarrely yet touchingly combined with Chopin’s Funeral March. Slatkin, who admits a deep belief in this work, draws a touching performance.
- Daniel Jaffé, Choral & Song
REVIEW:
Alexander Dmitrievich Kastalsky was born in Moscow on 16 November 1856 and died there on 17 December 1926. A student of Taneyev and Tchaikovsky at the Moscow Conservatory, his works stood to one side from the secular musical world. Rachmaninov saw Kastalsky as his teacher and was influenced by the older man whose presence can be sensed in the Vespers and in the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom—also recorded by Charles Bruffy and his Kansas choir. Kastalsky became a leading light in a nineteenth century renaissance of the liturgy of the Russian Orthodox Church. With Smolensky and Grechaninov, Kastalsky was part of fresh passion for Russian devotional music. Tragically for Kastalsky, this was to collide with the Bolshevik ban on sacred music. The extraordinary imaginative strengths of the choral-orchestral Requiem for Fallen Brothers were disregarded. Even so it is reported that the Kastalsky Requiem travelled far and wide. It was, for example, performed in Birmingham by that city’s Festival Choir on 22 November 1917 conducted by Henry Wood, a fervent Russophile.
The towering Requiem lay in oblivion for more than a century despite its fresh and tragic inspiration: it recalled those who perished in the First World War. The score is affluent in ideas, both vocal and orchestral. Across seventeen segments (here separately accessible) the work accommodates a range of well-recognised spiritual references. Without falling into the trap of a variegated collage it finds a place for Orthodox and Gregorian chant and mixes in material from the allied nations. In tr. 14 Kastalsky weaves Chopin’s ‘funeral march’ and the hymn ‘Rock of Ages’ with the same mastery we find in Bridge’s Sir Roger de Coverley and Holst’s Fantasia on The Dargason. The more one experiences this major work, whether through this fine recording under Leonard Slatkin or in the hands of Evgeny Svetlanov, the more one places it alongside other known Great War humanist monuments like Delius’s Requiem and John Foulds’ World Requiem. To this group, can be added John Ireland’s These Things Shall Be and perhaps also a work quite unknown, Julius Harrison’s Great War tribute Requiem of Archangels. Kastalsky’s commitment towards church music spread to a work kindred to the Requiem but this time for unaccompanied choir. It was a short version; only 40 minutes as against the 64 minutes of the present Requiem. This a cappella work came under the title Memory Eternal to the Fallen Heroes.
The Requiem strides forward with slight pauses between sections. In terms of sweep and incident it coheres well. Proceedings begin with seraphic choir and tolling bells, all suggestive of Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov. The Kyrie (2) continues the seraphic treatment but is underpinned with tenderly stabbing strings. The whole rises to a searching intensity that recalls Rachmaninov’s The Bells. As this section closes Kastalsky refers obliquely back to the clangour of the first movement. The dark griping of the brass in the Rex tremendae (4) paves the way for a soprano solo in Ingemisco (4) and for Beethovenian protest and struggle in the Confutatis. Here Kastalsky deploys words from Pushkin’s poem John of Damascus; a text that also drew Taneyev. The Lacrymosa (6) has the two soloists’ voices mingling amid a choral haze. Mixed in we hear tendrils of the Dies Irae. In Domine Jesu (7) the scent of incense is strong against the treble of silvery bells. Beati mortui makes use of the sound of sleigh bells and, not for the first time, fleetingly suggests The Bells—the latter a work dating from four years before Kastalsky started work on the Requiem. The Hostias (9) blends the harp with the rich tone of the choir in a heaven-invoking carol. In the first of two Interludia (10), Japanese music is limned in to represent participation of the Japanese army in the conflict. Trumpet fanfares impel and crown the grand statement that is the Sanctus (11). The coaxing and soothing ways of the Agnus Dei (12) usher in What Sweetness in This World (13) with its commanding piano part and bass-baritone darkness. Its fruity solo trumpet makes you think of Holst’s Dirge for Two Veterans. The Dies Irae returns in mists for the Kyrie eleison (15)—an exercise in slow-stepping serenity. There’s unhurried atmospheric ululation in the second Interludium: Hymn to Indra, calling to mind, if only in choice of subject, Holst’s Sanskrit works. The Requiem ends with the bells: part hugely imposing and celebratory and part seeming to reach out towards apotheosis from the bleak fog of chaos. The superb echoing resonance of the church acoustic is very present as the finale rings out.
This fully-fleshed out Requiem has a tremendously dignified tread, noble grief and imperious ways. Naxos have done well by Kastalsky. This treatment extends to a twenty-page booklet with all the sung text. The layout has the Italian, Latin, Greek and Russian words with English translation in parallel throughout.
– MusicWeb International (Rob Barnett)
The Romantic Piano Concerto Vol 2 / Michael Ponti
Moscheles' Concerto, Op. 58 is said to be one of his finest works, showing the classical influences of Beethoven, Schubert and Chopin. From the opening of the Allegro moderato one can be forgiven for thinking you are listening to an orchestral score composed by Mendelssohn. However the piano lines have more of a Saint-Saëns ring about them. Bold statements punctuate gently-flowing passages with lightweight orchestral involvement. The Adagio contains recitative-like figures with background tremolos that eventually lead into an Allegro agitato. This movement skips along with a bright theme that is extemporised and builds to a suitable coda and rousing close.
Hiller's compositions are largely forgotten now but in his day his works reached the concert hall. His piano impromptu Zur Gitarre was played by Clara Schumann. His Concerto, Op. 69 contains some lovely melodies and has for too long been neglected, a point the CD notes confirm. Hiller premiered the work as soloist in Amsterdam (1856). It was performed in the presence of royalty nine years later, so we must assume that the work enjoyed a certain degree of popularity. This was one of the first piano concertos to utilise the key of F-sharp Minor and is full of ideas also original for the time. A Moderato movement opens the piece with an energetic main theme (without introduction) and use of alternating octaves - a device copied by d'Albert 28 years later. The emotional Andante espressivo is filled with ravishingly romantic melodies. It has a feeling of Liszt about it. A purposeful Allegro con fuoco closes the concerto.
Henry Litolff was taken as a pupil for the composer Moscheles. The older man declared Litolff so good that a public performance was arranged which he gave at the age of fourteen. Later as a proficient pianist, Litolff undertook concert tours on the continent and wrote his Concerto Sinfonique about 1846. Berlioz monitored his progress and referred to Litolff "as one of our best composers", praising his knowledge, inspiration, mobility of melodic style, and excellence of orchestration. At 39 minutes it is a long concerto and with a four movement structure broke new ground. There is freshness to this composition that gives me the impression of sprightly youthful eagerness. Why this amazing work is not better known I can't guess, but it would be ideal for part of a Proms programme.
An Allegro provides a majestic opening, with accelerating energy and an introduction of two principal ideas. In the Scherzo a Beethovenian hunting scene comes to mind, with echoes of the Ninth. The piano part complements the orchestra-dominated main theme. A peaceful Andante conveys a lyrical mood of relaxing charm, the piano syncopating a flowing horn melody. A bold Furioso moves with urgency before it breaks into a trumpet-led rendering of the Dutch National song "Wein Neerlands". The song weaves in and out of the movement before virtuosity brings the piece to an energetic close.
Carl Reinecke is usually remembered for the cadenzas he wrote to other composers' classic concertos rather than for his own compositions. This is despite the fact that he was a prolific writer of around 300 works. His writing is not as demonstrative as the other composers in this set: there is more of a relaxed feel to this concerto. Reinecke made his debut as a violinist at 11 but toured Europe as a pianist, before turning to the education of others. Reinecke settled in Leipzig where he became professor of piano and composition at the Conservatorium.
In Reinecke's Concerto the Allegro is a good vehicle for virtuosity, but there is practically no partnership with the orchestra. In the Adagio, sincerity of purpose is given with its meandering theme. A bold statement from the strings opens the Finale Allegro and rippling measures maintain momentum throughout the movement.
Mendelssohn's Capriccio brilliant is well known and needs little introduction. Written as a fantasia for piano and orchestra it is constructed on four themes - introductory theme, fortissimo theme, pianissimo theme, and piano theme. It is here played with sensitivity and purpose.
Rheinberger is better known for his organ compositions rather than the writing of orchestral works. He studied under Lachner and became an intimate friend of Schubert, yet his music is often linked with Brahms.
His Concerto deviates in its opening Moderato from the Beethoven pattern by dispensing with the orchestral exposition and replacing it with a short preludial statement; the piano entering with the main idea and acting as a dominant force. An Adagio follows with lyrical delicacy and appealing musical ideas. The orchestra contributes with important thematic and colouristic contributions throughout. A piano solo opens the Allegro energico with a flourishing statement and running into a fast-flowing theme before returning to the heroic idea of the first movement.
This set contains rarely recorded works of the lesser-known composers who provided a valuable contribution to the development of music through the 19th Century. The notes make interesting reading and give useful historical information. Descriptions of the works could have been fuller and more detailed.
Michael Ponti plays with considerable dexterity, and handles both powerful and sensitive passages with considerable skill. The orchestras play competently under knowledgeable conductors.
The analogue recordings of the '70s are clear without the extraneous noise that can show up in CD transfers of this period. They are pleasantly balanced for concerto recording with the piano placed nicely forward on the sound-stage. In the Reinecke concerto, a slight metallic timbre is noticed with the piano. A slight lack of dynamic range causes some detail of the orchestra to be hidden but this is not an obtrusive problem. There is no obvious mismatching in the acoustics or microphone placements between the different venues (not given).
-- Raymond Walker, MusicWeb International
Anthony Holborne: The Fruit Of Love
HOLBORNE The Fruit of Love • François Joubert-Caillet (vl, cond); L’Achéron • RICERCAR 339 (69:09)
In his day, Anthony Holborne (c. 1545–1602) was a highly respected composer and instrumentalist. His patrons included Robert Cecil, the first Earl of Salisbury; Mary Sidney, Countess Pembroke; and Elizabeth I. He wrote dedicatory introductions to publications by Thomas Morley and Giles Farnaby, and Dowland dedicated his song I saw my lady weep to him. Upon Holborne’s death he was quickly forgotten, as were many of his contemporaries, only to experience a considerable revival in the 20th century. Today his music is often recorded in excerpt as part of larger collections, but occasionally in releases devoted entirely to his works.
One of Holborne’s pieces, The Fairie Round , was part of the so-called Voyager Golden Records sent with space probes Voyagers 1 and 2, to represent the cultural achievements of humanity. It was part of the composer’s 1599 publication Pavans, Galliards, Almains, and other short Aeirs both grave and light, in five parts, for Viols, Violins, or other Musicall Winde Instruments . This was to be his only published music not written for solo plucked instruments and, at a total of 65 dances, a very large collection for its time and place. Many of the works are given titles, some clearly drawn from songs, but 53 are either pavans or galliards—the majority of these in paired association. The music thus alternates between the more stately and the more lively, though Holborne’s excellent five-part writing makes it clear these pieces were intended more for listening pleasure than actual dancing.
Publishers of the day realized they could make decent money off the sale of music to a thriving middle and upper class, at a time when music-making was both an important element of private entertainment and a marketable skill to attract good marriages. To maximize sales, composers often indicated that their works could be performed by a wide range of instruments. Holborne’s title above indicates as much, and François Joubert-Caillet takes his cue from this. L’Achéron opts here for a traditional viol consort, abetted by a pair of musicians on plucked string instruments that Holborne was known to specialize in: the lute, cittern, and bandora. Finally, they’ve included the very occasional use of a virginal and ottavino (small spinet). While keyboards aren’t mentioned by Holborne, they are in other sources of the period, and they’re deployed with discretion—most obviously, and to excellent effect, as a solo in the opening statement of Paradizo —and a combination of plucked instruments and ottavino alone perform an unnamed Almain of obviously Italianate origin.
Mention of this brings to mind that other recordings prefer different arrangements. Jordi Savall and Hesperion XXI (Alia Vox 9813) give a greater role to lutes, and Pedro Estevan adds a bit of light percussion in such pieces as The Honie-Suckle . Skip Sempé and Capriccio Stravagante (Paradizo 1) opt to mix viols and solo flute, with generally good results. I would place L’Achéron squarely between these two as a balance of dance and abstract listening. Savall clearly wishes to emphasize the dance aspect of Holborne’s music, while Sempé focuses less on rhythms than on rich textures and, at times, almost Romanticized dynamics in the phrasing. Joubert-Caillet is a bit slower than either in many instances, but with more forward impetus than Sempé.
Those three versions are my current favorites; and if I had to choose, this would be my preferred one, with close, richly textured sound. But only by a hair over Savall; so if you have that one, you’re probably good to go. If not, however, I strongly recommend this recording.
FANFARE: Barry Brenesal
Cage: Works For Piano 7 / Margaret Leng Tan
Re-assembling the original artworks for "The Imagery of Chess Revisited" show (2005-06) at the Isamu Noguchi Museum in New York led to the tracking down of the Cage painting. Cage expert Margaret Leng Tan set about transcribing the music in the painting into a playable score which receives its premiere recording here.
Chess Pieces is from 1944, an emotional and creative year for Cage; besides echoes of Satie, Chess Pieces contains prophetic touches of minimalism and has features in common with his monumental piano piece, Four Walls, from the same year.
A renowned Cage interpreter, Ms. Tan worked closely with the composer from 1981 to 1992. Cage was particularly appreciative of her performances of his works for the prepared piano. This is Ms. Tan's long-awaited recording of Cage's prepared piano masterpiece, the Sonatas and Interludes of 1946-48.
Also included is the first recording of the only other musical score from "The Imagery of Chess" show, neo-classical composer Vittorio Rieti's Chess Serenade.
Also available as a surround sound DVD (MOD-DV158) with full performance videos of Chess Pieces and Chess Serenade, plus 2 documentaries: Mr. Cage's Prepared Piano (Ms. Tan takes an in-depth look at the prepared piano), and CAGE: Music/Art/Chess (a closeup look at Cage's and Rieti's pieces in the Noguchi Museum's "The Imagery of Chess Revisited" show).
ADDITIONAL DOCUMENTARY VIDEOS:
* Mr. Cage's Prepared Piano: an insightful look at the history of the prepared piano narrated and performed by Ms. Tan, who also demonstrates how to (and not to) prepare a piano, and describes the preparations in detail both visually and sonically. She prepares and performs excerpts from Bacchanale, Cage's first prepared piano work, and Sonatas & Interludes.
* Cage and the Art of Chess: a visit to "The Imagery of Chess Revisited" exhibit at the Isamu Noguchi Museum with curator Larry List and Ms. Tan. Together they describe Cage's relationship to the show and examine the "Chess Pieces" painting in detail - they also discuss Rieti and his Chess Serenade. Mr. List explores a separate feature on Cage's wife, Xenia Cage, and her Chess Table (Xenia was an artist and also had a piece in the show) and sheds additional background on her life and work.
24-bit surround sound DTS and Dolby Digital surround.
Dedicated 24-bit stereo mix.
English, French, German and Spanish subtitles.
NOTE: Sonatas & Interludes is not accompanied by video.
R E V I E W S
"The seventh volume of John Cage's piano works -- or Volume 34 of the Complete John Cage Edition, if you prefer -- features a transcendent performance of the Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano (1948) meticulously rendered by avant-garde keyboardist extraordinaire, Margaret Leng Tan. Yet Volume 2 in this series features a 1994 recording of the same work, played by Philipp Vandre. For those aiming to collect the full series, this may be an annoyance, but others catching these CDs as they are released will surely appreciate having Tan's superb interpretation of the Sonatas and Interludes, with premiere recordings of Cage's long-lost Chess Pieces for piano (1944) and Vittorio Rieti's Chess Serenade (1944) as bonuses, rather than search for the older disc of the single work. But despite seeming redundant, this CD is clearly one to get: Tan is simply remarkable in the Sonatas and Interludes, giving a realization that is scrupulous in execution, deep in sonic dimensions, and luminous in color; and she offers what is actually a 'period performance,' since she plays a piano identical in its specifications to the small Steinway Cage originally prepared in the process of composition. The differences in sonorities between this album and others are immediately noticeable, especially in this recording's superior resonance and crystalline details; anyone who already knows this work will recognize that Tan's interpretation is truly Cagean in its poetic nuances and hypnotic power. So without disparaging other recordings for being less authoritative -- certainly, Tan holds a considerable advantage for having worked closely with Cage in his final years -- it is safe to say that fans of his most popular piano work will give this album full marks. Mode's sound quality is ideal, too, so this CD receives the highest recommendation. --- Blair Sanderson, allmusic.com, March 2006
Blondeau: Quatuors / Quatuors Ad Fontes
The present CD is no exception to the rule, and it has an extra bonus: it presents a very curious and almost unknown version of three Beethoven sonatas, skillfully transcribed by Pierre-Auguste-Louis Blondeau, who published them in 1808–09, for the benefit of the refined amateur. I would tell you more about this forgotten master, but you know what? You should really get this CD, and read the text: it will not only give you a very good idea about the composer and his artistic milieu, as well as a step-by-step commentary on the movements of each sonata (Michelle Garnier-Panafieu wrote the liner notes), but will also provide you with a knowledgeable article (by Denis Grenier) on the painting by Marie Éléonore Godefroid which graces the cover. To hear Beethoven in this new guise is fascinating and fun. At the same time, a surprise and an experience in déjà vu. No matter how much Beethoven himself used to condemn such transcriptions, somehow the music fits very well for the string quartet, and engages our interest right away. Evidently, a large part of the merit belongs to the musicians of Quatuor ad Fontes, who play with real zest and just the right touch of grittiness. After hearing the CD, I wondered whether I would not find the original version of these works a little bit subdued, from now on.
This is a very good recording, which should be valuable to anyone who loves Beethoven, as well as for those who hate him (maybe they will enjoy Blondeau more than they do the Viennese master). It is a must for all who are interested in the early Romantic period, or in transposition, or in string quartet repertoire, or who simply want to acquire a beautifully presented CD as a gift to someone special. In short: for practically everybody!
Laura Rónai, FANFARE
Bach: The Art Of Fugue / Sergio Vartolo, Maddalena Vartolo
BACH The Art of Fugue • Sergio Vartolo (hpd); Maddalena Vartolo (hpd) • NAXOS 8.570577 (2 CDs: 102: 13)
Some recordings deserve high praise, some deserve faint praise, and some earn their fair share of ridicule. Then there is the category of those that earn your respect over time, if you have the stamina to hang in. Bach’s The Art of Fugue , BWV 1080, usually considered an intellectually “dry” work, as played on the harpsichord by Sergio Vartolo (with Maddalena Vartolo on the final two pieces for two harpsichords), won me over after a struggle. The first time through, I experienced a rash of negative judgments: the tempo was too slow, the beat was too regular, the dynamic range was too narrow (only from p to f , while the piano could cover from ppp to fff ), the soloist is an academic (and you know how they are), and there was no exhilaration by acceleration. Everything was too risk free, too free of passion. I was under the spell of the modern piano readings of Bach’s music. But after putting these discs aside for about a week, I asked myself: “If the disc is all that, why did Naxos offer it?” I concluded that I must not have been listening with both frontal lobes of my brain operating. Or, maybe the first time through I’d put too much Kirsch in the fondue for lunch, and it affected my judgment. In any event, I didn’t “get it.”
So I listened to all 102:13 of it, again. This time I realized what I’d forgotten in my prejudice. Of course, the harpsichord had a limited dynamic range with each string being plucked by a leather plectrum under uniform pressure each time its keyboard note was struck (no matter how heartily or delicately). That is one of the limiting factors of its design, which became an incentive in the development of the forte piano. As for the tempo and the rhythm, I realized these were likely a secondary concern to Bach, a champion of well-tempered tuning, in these contrapuntal but equally harmonic exercises. The metronome had not yet been developed, so there couldn’t have been exact instructions from the composer as would become the later practice. There were likely “conventions,” probably issued verbally on the signature score, as to the approximate tempo the composer recommended for each section.
In my bifurcated Oblomovian mind, I decided to concede the tempo to the performer, especially as Vartolo is a highly prolific recording artist, a regular medal winner, as well as a professor at the Accademia Filarmonica of Bologna, where, in 1770, a new member—W. A. Mozart—was installed. I reasoned if there were existing instructions from Bach, or conventions that were observed concerning tempo, rubato, syncopation, etc., Vartolo (as scholar) would know them. And this time I enjoyed my listening much more. But I still wasn’t sold.
During my third trip through the Art of Fugue with Vartolo, I got so into the music I could forget about dynamic range and tempo and appreciate the gorgeous sound of the harpsichord, the skill of the Naxos recording engineers, as well as the spellbinding quality of Vartolo’s playing. I’ve taken to putting it in my CD player first thing in the morning, and (setting it on automatic repeat) letting it play all day while I am at my computer. The presentation of the music is so inevitable, the playing and recording so clean, that I’ve come to hear the clarity of the argument for original instruments, something I had thought too doctrinaire. Certainly, this music—when played on a modern piano, even by soloists who loved Bach (like Glenn Gould)—takes on a quite different mode of presentation. But I can hear the case for equally expert playing on the harpsichord.
In conclusion, I’m not too proud to climb down off my high horse and recommend this two-CD set. It has won me over by overcoming my knee-jerk reactions. If you are interested in Bach, or the fugue, or the harpsichord, or the body of work known as The Art of Fugue , I recommend this recording with high praise. Both the playing and the recording are damn fine. The lesson I’ve learned here, and hope to share with you is that in judging music, it seems best to admit your prejudices to yourself. If you can keep aware of your own preferences, education, music you exclude on specious grounds, you might discover the value of music that is new to you. As I have. Music loving ought to be inclusive. It depends on how you do it. I recommend that you Zen yourself out with Vartolo’s The Art of Fugue during a rainy weekend. You could be pleasantly surprised! And for you harpsichord players out there, you already knew all this. But isn’t it cool to see it in print?
FANFARE: Ilya Oblomov
Jones: Missa Spes Nostra - Ludford: Ave Cujus Conceptio - Hunt: Stabat Mater
Still, some of the partbooks have gone missing over time; and given that a set, one voice to a part, is required for performance, any loss has proven sufficient to silence so much fine Tudor polyphony. The Henrician Peterhouse group—Peterhouse MSS 40, 41, 31 and 32, a total of 72 works, 39 of which are unica—furnish a sad example of this. Of its five partbooks, the tenor is missing, as well as several leaves removed at some point from the treble. Various scholars long asserted that the kind of florid style frequently found in these books was no longer being composed in the later years of Henry’s rule, and paid no attention to the partbooks because they were little known and their contents unperformable. It is thanks to musicologist Nick Sandon, who has supplied the tenor part (and when necessary, the treble), that we have a working edition of those compositions that can’t be found elsewhere.
This fourth volume of the series once again features a work by Nicholas Ludford (c. 1490–1557). He is easily the best-known composer on the disc, which, given that he was almost entirely unknown until the last half century, says much about England’s musical discontinuity. (As well as the importance of Peterhouse’s Henrician partbooks; for a fair amount of what they include isn’t unica by well-known composers, but by those who lived, worked, died, and were completely forgotten.) Though his Ave cujus conceptio is not the centerpiece of the album as the Missa Regnum mundi (Blue Heron 1003) and Missa Inclina cor meum (Blue Heron 1004) were of theirs, it is a brightly buoyant work without shadows, launching lengthy melismatic phrases like so many streamers.
The central work on the program is the Missa Spes nostra of Robert Jones (fl. 1520–1535). His is a cantus firmus Mass, and as was the custom in England at the time, there is no pre-composed, polyphonic Kyrie. (Blue Heron supplies a plainchant one from the Sarum use sung, as was this Mass, on Trinity Sunday.) Metcalfe points out in his excellent liner notes that Jones “plays with the idea of alternation between major and minor harmonizations of the third scale degree” throughout the Mass. This, along with some simpler homophonic statements among the wealth of imitation, gives it at times an almost folk-like quality, though upon other occasions Jones relishes the passing dissonances his juxtapositions invite. Sandon notes in his doctoral dissertation that Jones can be unpredictable, and that he “sometimes writes very neat motivically generated counterpoint, but at other times he can be quirky and wayward.” This Mass is a highly individualized work, and amply repays repeated listening.
The final composer on the program, Robert Hunt, is so obscure that he hasn’t even been further identified yet. Only two pieces of his survive, both in the Peterhouse partbooks: an Ave Maria mater dei, and the Stabat mater dolorosa heard here. It is the only work on the disc missing both its tenor and treble parts, which Sandon has supplied. In a manner that recalls the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, it invites the listener to partake in the successive emotions experienced at the foot of the Cross by Mary, and manages this brilliantly in a very free, intensely emotive fashion. It should be required listening of anyone who feels that imitative counterpoint can’t be expressive.
It is also a superb example of what Scott Metcalfe has achieved with Blue Heron: an ensemble that yields to none for intonation, blend, and clarity, yet also utilizes both overall and part-related dynamics as an expressive device in a way most other professional choirs of its quality do not. Metcalfe is alive to the lyricism that was a remarked-upon feature of 15th-century English music, and the beauty of Blue Heron’s phrasing displays this everywhere on this disc. That the choir isn’t better known is no doubt a result in part of its rarified repertoire, but also Metcalfe’s desire to retain control over all aspects of his recordings. So you won’t find Blue Heron on such labels as Hyperion or Harmonia Mundi, but you will find that the excellent engineering on this album provides a close, rich sound with just enough reverberation to give body to the voices.
Complete texts and translations are included. Really, the entire series to date is worth the purchase. And if you want to sample some of Blue Heron’s recordings, as well as buy them, the place to go is blueheronchoir.org. Strongly recommended.
Janacek: Jenufa / Vejzovic, Briscein, Vermillion, Kaftan, Graz Philharmonic
There are quite a few recordings of Jenufa around these days, and I pulled out my copy of the classic 1977 Supraphon recording conducted by František Jílek by way of orientation. I had forgotten quite how good this is, and still sounding very fresh despite its vintage. I was glad to have it to hand, since the libretto in the booklet for this Graz recording is given only in Czech and German, the Supraphon edition helping us out with both English and French as well.
The Graz cast is good, with the main characters all strong enough and mostly well characterised. There are a few weaker moments, but I’m reluctant to point out any names in particular since voices I’d marked up as being weaker links tended to redeem themselves further along. Recorded live, this Graz recording is very much a theatre version as you would expect, so if you are used to more opulent versions such as the EMI, now Warner Classics Prague recording with Libuse Domaninská conducted by Bohumil Gregor this might seem a step backwards. There are advantages to be heard however. The vocal balance is much more natural in the Oper Graz, and while the scale is less grand the orchestral detail is more direct, the impact of the drama less extravagantly ‘operatic’, if you follow my meaning. If language is an issue then Chandos’s version in English might be of interest, but you still need the libretto to hand to really be able to follow what is going on. With Janácek’s specific connections with the setting of his native language to music this always sounds like a distortion too far for me – even with the authoritative conducting of Sir Charles Mackerras.
This Graz production is not the last word on Jenufa. That honour probably has to go to Elisabeth Söderström and Sir Charles Mackerras with the Vienna Philharmonic on Decca, but this Oehms Classics recording is a version which will grow on you. Personally, I have to admit finding it hard to avoid being drawn back to the special character brought to the title role by Gabriela Benacková in that Supraphon recording. There is no denying that the strength of an all-Czech cast and orchestra is very compelling in this opera. Gal James is very good as well though, and deeply affecting in crucial moments such as Scene 6 in Act 2 where, all alone, Jenufa sings of her baby as yet oblivious to the unfolding tragedy. The Stepmother’s anguished cry towards the end is truly chilling, and stands as an emblem for the admirably realistic approach in this production – one you can add to your collection with confidence.
-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International
NOVOSELYE - HOUSEWARMING
Oboe Rarities: Original Works for Oboe & Piano / Calcagni, Magagni
Milken Archive - Schoenfield: Viola Concerto, Etc
The Four Motets, each indicated only by a tempo marking, are settings of four of the seven verses from Psalm 86: “Incline Your ear, O Lord, answer me, for I am poor and needy.” These may be the most beautiful pieces William Byrd ever wrote. I jest of course, but the writing bears a strong resemblance to the Church style of Byrd and Tallis, with just enough 20th-century “irregularities” in voice leading and harmonic progression thrown in to assure you that you haven’t entered a time-warp. Benjamin Britten was quite masterful at writing this type of choral music too.
Schoenfield’s opera, The Merchant and the Pauper, is based on a tale by the great 18th-century Hassidic Rabbi, Reb Nahman. As usual, Neil Levin, author of the encyclopedic notes, and artistic director behind the Milken Archive of American Jewish Music project, goes on for pages of microscopic-print about who Reb Nahman was and the role he played in the evolving Jewish mythology and mysticism that are central to the Hassidic movement. Suffice it here to say that he was a highly controversial figure, as were many of his tales that—through allegory, riddles, and symbolism—drew many fervent believers. The plot of the Merchant and the Pauper presents an original twist on a familiar theme. The Pauper’s wife is kidnapped, but safely returned by the Merchant. The wives of both Pauper and Merchant give birth, the former to a daughter, the latter to a son. In gratitude to the Merchant for the rescue of his wife, the Pauper promises his newborn daughter’s hand in marriage to the Merchant’s son. Meanwhile, as the daughter blossoms into womanhood, her beauty increases, as do the Pauper’s wealth and fortunes. Soon, power and greed corrupt the Pauper, who now no longer wishes his daughter to marry the Merchant’s son. To prevent the marriage, he goes to great lengths to ruin the Merchant, and eventually to have the Merchant’s son abducted, put into a sack, and thrown into the sea (shades of Rigoletto). But this story has a happy ending for all except the Pauper. The son escapes, to be reunited with the Merchant’s daughter in “everlasting joy” (right!), and through the magic of fantasy the Pauper is once again returned to “pauperdom” and the Merchant to “merchanthood.” The story is no sillier than many an opera libretto. What matters is the music. On that score, I can say that even in these relatively short chunks excerpted from act II Schoenfield demonstrates a real flair for the stage and dramatic writing. There is some gorgeous music here, and all of the participants are excellent.
Another winner from this tremendously important project. I recommend it enthusiastically.
Jerry Dubins, FANFARE
DEBUSSY: COMPLETE PIANO WORKS FANTAISIE FOR PIANO
Marcel Tyberg: Symphony No 3 / Piano Trio Falletta, Chuang, Ludwig
TYBERG Symphony No. 3. 1 Piano Trio 2 • 1 JoAnn Falletta, cond; Buffalo PO; 2 Michael Ludwig (vn); 2 Roman Mekinulov (vc); 2 Ya-Fei Chuang (pn) • NAXOS 8.572236 (60:51)
Don’t bother trying to find Tyberg in Grove , or in the six-volume Baker’s Biographical Dictionary , or in the 14th edition of the International Who’s Who in Music , or even in MGG ’s monumental 17-volume Personenteil , of which the volume with the Ts was published as recently as 2006. Until only about five years ago, Tyberg languished among the many forgotten names of music history, in particular among those of Jewish background who were sent to the death camps by the Nazis. Tyberg was only 1/16th Jewish, but he was deported anyway and died in late 1944 (the circumstances of his death remain unclear). But posthumous recognition is finally coming to this Austrian composer.
Shortly before he was arrested, Tyberg entrusted his scores to his friend Milan Mihich, who in turn gave them to his son Enrico. The latter eventually moved to Buffalo. For years he attempted to interest Buffalo Philharmonic conductors, among others, in Tyberg’s music. Rafael Kubelík expressed keen interest but died soon afterward. About half a dozen years ago, Tyberg’s scores caught the attention of JoAnn Falletta, and she programmed the Third Symphony with her Buffalo Philharmonic. The Tyberg Legacy Foundation was established in Buffalo at the Foundation for Jewish Philanthropies, and funding therefrom helped bring forth the Naxos recording we now have.
The Third Symphony, composed in the 1930s, received its world premiere by the BPO and Falletta on May 10, 2008, and the recording soon followed. (Falletta has also programmed Tyberg’s Second Symphony for performances on April 30 and May 1 of this year to coincide with Holocaust Memorial Day.)
The score is richly romantic, with strong echoes of Bruckner, Mahler, Zemlinsky, and Szymanowski. The huge orchestra requires quadruple woodwinds, heckelphone, eight horns (four doubling on tenor tubas), bass trumpet, contrabass trombone, two timpanists, and much more. It opens with a portentous call from a tenor horn heralding music of dark, Mahlerian angst (comparison with the opening of Mahler’s Seventh cannot be ignored). One almost immediately becomes aware that, like Mahler, Tyberg is going to use his orchestra as a vast palette of colors to play with. The second subject is as warmly romantic and gracious as the first was menacing and tortured. The D-Minor Scherzo has a Brucknerian drive and energy, thickly yet brilliantly orchestrated and with a virtuosic edge that recalls Dukas’s Sorcerer’s Apprentice as well. Shades of Bruckner hover also over the Adagio, which moves slowly and inexorably to its main climax. Its somber colors would have benefited from a warmer recording acoustic, but what is a small defect in this movement becomes an asset in the finale, a rollicking rondo whose main theme has the flavor of a saucy British sea shanty, tossed off in its initial presentation with virtuosic abandon by the Buffalo Philharmonic horns. The Philharmonic sustains the sense of high spirits and energy throughout the movement, indeed, throughout the entire symphony, though one cannot avoid the feeling that Tyberg might have left us a more convincing conclusion—the ending is simply too abrupt and unexpected.
The Piano Trio of 1936 is, if anything, even more engaging, filled as it is with big-boned, sumptuous themes and rich textures right out of Schumann, Brahms, Franck, and Tchaikovsky. Themes are masterfully worked out. One listens in disbelief to music composed in the age of Stravinsky and Satie, of Schoenberg and Berg, of Bartók and Messiaen, that is as accomplished as Tyberg’s yet so untouched by the fast-changing world around him—“as if he had truly lived a century before,” as Buffalo Philharmonic archivist Edward Yadzinski puts it in his fine booklet notes. Concertmaster Michael Ludwig and principal cellist Roman Mekinulov, joined by pianist Ya-Fei Chuang, deliver a performance that glows with passion and power. This disc is worth acquiring for either the symphony or the trio alone. Together they constitute an irresistible combination. This is definitely a Want List candidate.
More information on Tyberg can be found at Wikipedia and in an extensive article by Herman Trotter, music critic emeritus of the Buffalo News (reprinted on the website of the Jewish Music Institute). Readers are also referred to an interview in Fanfare 34:2 in which Falletta and Yadzinski disuss the Tyberg situation in some detail.
FANFARE: Robert Markow
How Marcel Tyberg's Third Symphony wound up in Buffalo is an interesting story, related in the booklet notes to this world-premiere recording. Tyberg (1893-1944) was a Jewish Viennese composer who died in Auschwitz in 1944 (as did several members of my own family--it's strange to think that they may have been there together). His Third symphony was composed in 1943, and it's a fine work, obviously in the Viennese tradition--sort of Wagner/Strauss with a Brahmsian structural overlay. It's colorful, uninhibited, perhaps a bit thickly scored, full of attractive melodic invention, and not a moment too long. For its date of composition it's a conservative work, but given the circumstances that hardly counts against it. JoAnn Falletta and her Buffalo forces do it proud: this is a bold, confident performance, excellently paced, that never suggests any unfamiliarity with what must have been a very unfamiliar work.
Tyberg's Piano Trio, from 1936, is even more stylistically reactionary, sounding like a typical example of mid-19th century Romanticism--but again, because it's the real thing and not a decadent relic it comes across simply as freshly melodious. Okay, it's not a masterpiece, but its three euphonious movements pass by very pleasingly, and like the symphony it's very well played (and recorded). Tyberg had a particular knack, both here and in the symphony, for creating vigorous rondo finales that never drag or sound tired, and if you know anything about late-Romantic finales then you know what a rare feat that is! There are many recordings of neglected composers around these days: this one deserves a greater claim on your attention (and purse) than most. It's a real find.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Fuchs: Serenades Nos. 1 & 2 / Christian Ludwig, Cologne Chamber Orchestra
Robert Fuchs (1847-1927) is best known today as the composition teacher of Mahler, Sibelius, Enesco, Korngold, Schreker, Zemlinsky, and just about everyone else who happened to be at the Vienna Conservatory from the late 19th century onward. As a composer he earned the respect of Brahms, probably because Brahms didn't feel threatened by him, and was totally forgotten after his death. During his lifetime he was best known for his string serenades, two of which feature on this recording, along with the late (and quite substantial) Andante and Capriccio Op. 63.
Let's get straight to the point: the music is wonderful--gracious, tuneful, not a note too long, and an unalloyed delight from first note to last. Yes, it's not "heavy" or "serious", but really, who cares? If you like Dvorák's or Tchaikovsky's string serenades, or Grieg's Holberg Suite, or Sibelius' Valse triste, then you are going to love this disc. The performances are perfect: flowing, rhythmically clean and snappy, immaculately tuned, and affectionately phrased. It just doesn't get any better, and the sonics are pristine. The Viennese, of course, have always been suckers for light music, but that only made them particularly discerning. They went crazy for Fuchs. Check out this disc and find out why.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
---------------
FUCHS Serenades: No. 1 in D; No. 2 in C. Andante grazioso and Capriccio • Christian Ludwig, cond; Cologne CO • NAXOS 8.572222 (53:52)
His friends called him “Serenaden-Fuchs” (Serenading Fox), a pun on his name, while the sparingly complimentary Brahms praised him as a “splendid musician.” He was Robert Fuchs (1847–1927), an Austrian composer and professor of theory and composition at the Vienna Conservatory whose students comprised an extraordinary roll-call of up-and-coming talents: Enescu, Korngold, Mahler, Melartin, Sibelius, Schmidt, Schreker, Wolf, and Zemlinsky.
As a musical genre the serenade found itself largely neglected after Mozart, at least until Brahms revived it with his two symphonic-scaled serenades in the late 1850s. Despite Mozart’s lending a greater gravity to the form, especially with his so-called “Gran Partita,” the genre continued to carry the stigma of its 18th-century antecedent as a type of lightweight, summer’s eve, al fresco entertainment, at a time when Austro-German Romanticism in particular saw itself as cultural custodian of the serious and the profound. Thus, even after Brahms’s two mid 19th-century examples, it would be another 25 years before composers would enrich the repertoire with serenades that, in content and dimensions, resembled symphonies or symphonic suites in all but name.
When Fuchs came to compose his First Serenade in 1874, his main models were the two efforts by Brahms and the three serenades by Robert Volkmann (1869–70). But by the time he got around to composing his fifth and final serenade in 1894, many masterly and magnificent serenades had already made their way into the world: Dvo?ák (1878), Tchaikovsky (1880), Strauss (1882), Wolf (1887), Suk (1892), and Elgar (1892), and not long after, Reinecke (1898); Dohnányi (1902), Sinding (1902 and 1909), Reger (several between 1904 and 1906), and Stenhammar (1913) would add to the growing list.
If the serenades had been Fuchs’s only contribution to music, it might explain why he virtually vanished from the mainstream almost immediately after his death, even though he’d been highly regarded in his own day. But the fact is that Fuchs worked in all the major musical media and his output, which included symphonies, concertos, a large volume of chamber works, three masses, and two operas, was considerable and diverse. And all of it—at least the works I’ve heard—is nothing but expertly crafted and melodically inspired.
Of Fuchs’s five serenades, the first three are scored for strings only and the fourth adds only two horns to the string ensemble. In the string-only pieces, however, textural richness is achieved through division of parts, so that for much of the time we are hearing six or even seven voices. Sometimes the violas play divided parts; other times, first or second violins are divided; and still other times violins and violas are divided at the same time. This lends both breadth and depth to the writing, allowing for greater fullness and luminosity to the sound as well as greater flexibility to the interplay of voices as they overlap and weave around each other.
As I said, if the serenades were Fuchs’s sole contribution to music, his disappearance from the scene might not be so surprising, for I will be the first to admit that these are not the stuff great reputations are made of. They were popular in their day precisely because they were the popular music of the day. As one listens to these serenades, especially their fast-paced movements, it’s easy to discern how Fuchs’s style was influenced by the polkas and quadrilles of Johann Strauss Jr., another composer, by the way, much admired by Brahms. So associating Fuchs with this type of crowd-pleasing entertainment music is not to denigrate him as a composer. His symphonies, concertos, and chamber works tell us that he was a man of both talent and substance. His serenades are tuneful, occasionally touching, and always enjoyable, reminding me in ways of some of Grieg’s orchestral music, like the Lyric Suite.
In checking all of the usual mail-order sources, I was surprised to find no complete collection of Fuchs’s five serenades. In fact, you would have to hunt down some fairly obscure labels featuring some fairly provincial ensembles to find recordings of Nos. 3 and 5, not to mention other versions besides this one of Nos. 1 and 2. And I had no luck at all finding even a single recording of No. 4. I guess I hadn’t realized when I began this review just how far Fuchs’s serenades had fallen on hard times, for the rest of his output in general is reasonably well represented on disc.
The Andante grazioso and Capriccio that concludes the disc is no insignificant filler. At 17 and a half minutes, it’s longer than the Serenade No. 2, and, written in 1900, it’s a work postdating the last of the composer’s serenades. Harmonically more advanced and complex, and emotionally darker than the serenades, the piece, suggests note author Anthony Short, is an example of Fuchs the teacher being influenced by his students, namely Sibelius.
One can only hope that this new recording of the first two serenades with the Cologne Chamber Orchestra directed by Christian Ludwig is the first in a survey that will bring us the remaining three, for in every respect the performances and recording are excellent. Strongly recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Rozsa: Film Music / Gamba, BBC PO
– Gramophone
The story of how Miklós Rózsa left his native Hungary and brought his talents as a composer of film music to the West is well known. He went first to London and then to California, when the outbreak of war necessitated moving Jungle Book lock, stock and barrel to Hollywood. Though there have been some fine recordings of his more ‘serious’ music - Chandos themselves have made three of them - it’s for his film music that he will be most remembered.
The BBC Philharmonic and Rumon Gamba were the performers on those three earlier Chandos recordings. This orchestra and conductor also has a long-established history of fine recordings of film music for the label, so it’s only fitting that they should be chosen for this new project.
For all that I enjoyed the earlier albums, I shall be very surprised if this recording of the film music doesn’t outsell all three of them put together. It certainly deserves to be very successful. At least two of the films are all-time classics and I greatly enjoyed this evocation of The Thief of Baghdad and Ben-Hur. In case the music doesn’t quite do the trick for you, there are still photos in the booklet. I don’t think I ever saw Sahara and I’d forgotten Hugh Griffith’s part in Ben-Hur until I saw the photo, though I certainly remember his hell-raising Falstaff on, and reputedly off stage, at Stratford in the early 1960s.
It may seem odd to spend more time on the booklet than the performances but I found the notes most enlightening while I can be short and sweet concerning the performances and say that, short of someone brushing up the original film scores in modern digital sound, they are unlikely ever to be bettered. Rumon Gamba and his team capture the tender aspects of the music just as well as its more dramatic moments.
The recording, to which I listened in CD-quality 16-bit sound, is very good indeed. It captures the colourful nature of the music without ever being over the top or as brightly lit as the composer’s own Phase 4 recordings. Movements such as the Parade of the Chariots, however, which concludes the album on track 24, are suitably Technicolor, though you may well find that you need to turn up the volume to hear the recording at its best.
Try some of Gamba’s other film music recordings for Chandos, too. The original music for Scott of the Antarctic is one of my favorites - it makes a fascinating comparison with the Sinfonia Antartica into which Vaughan Williams later shaped most of the material.
The chief rival to this new recording comes from Australian Decca (Eloquence 4803790, 2 CDs at budget price: A Bargain of the Month with Rózsa himself in the late 1970s conducting the music for Ben Hur and Quo Vadis and Bernard Herrmann the music for Julius Cæsar. Dutton have also given us a 2-CD release of the two composer-conducted recordings, originally made in Phase 4 (CDLK4332). The Ben-Hur suite, which forms the climax of the new recording stands up against even that competition. While the album is not qualified with a ‘Volume 1’ addition, I do hope that Chandos will give us the BBC Philharmonic and Rumon Gamba in the Quo Vadis music, too, as a sequel.
– Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International
Schoenberg: Violin Concerto, A Survivor From Warsaw, Etc / Craft, Schulte
This latest instalment in the Naxos Robert Craft series contains a mixture of newly recorded items and one work, the Violin Concerto, that has already appeared on Koch Classics in 2000. Comprising largely music composed during the last ten years of Schoenberg’s life, the disc also reflects to a large extent the émigré composer’s preoccupation with his Jewish heritage as his life drew to a close.
The disc opens with the powerful Survivor from Warsaw, Schoenberg’s moving response to a Nazi atrocity in the Second World War. Schoenberg gave this a universal significance by playing down the Warsaw location and concentrating instead on the atrocity itself, an incident in which weak, elderly and starved Jews were systematically liquidated by the Nazi cohorts, and one that was repeated time and again throughout the war. This work had huge personal significance to the composer, as he wrote in 1948:
“Now, what the text of the Survivor means to me: it means at first a warning to all Jews, never to forget what has been done to us, never to forget that even people who did not do it themselves, agreed with them and many of them found it necessary to treat us this way. We should never forget this, even such things have not been done in the manner in which I describe in the Survivor. This does not matter. The main thing is, that I saw it in my imagination.”
If memory serves, Craft has recorded this before, with Simon Callow as narrator, but this is a new version with David Wilson-Johnson and the Philharmonia. While the choral and orchestral contribution make their mark under Craft’s watchful baton, I have heard performances of the narration which were more vividly re-enacted than that by Wilson-Johnson. In particular the delineation of the different episodes in the story and of its various characters, from the prisoners to the German sergeant, could have been more sharply defined. This is a work which demands commitment and involvement over accuracy to the score. However the final chorus makes an overwhelming effect. In the same 1948 letter Schoenberg wrote. “The Shema Jisroel at the end has a special meaning to me. I think, the Shema Jisroel is the ‘Glaubensbekenntnis,’ the confession of the Jew. It is our thinking of the one, eternal, God who is invisible, who forbids imitation, who forbids to make a picture and all these things, which you perhaps have realised when you read my Moses und Aron und Der biblische Weg [Moses and Aaron and the Biblical Way]. The miracle is, to me, that all these people who might have forgotten, for years, that they are Jews, suddenly facing death, remember who they are.”
The Prelude to Genesis was written as part of the same commission from the composer and publisher Nathaniel Shilkret that resulted in Stravinsky’s miniature cantata Babel. Schoenberg’s was one of a series of works written to reflect various events in the Book of Genesis. Other music featured in this unusual project included Cain and Abel by Milhaud; The Flood by Castelnuovo-Tedesco and The Covenant by Ernst Toch. Bartok, Hindemith and Prokofiev were also approached but did not contribute in the event. Schoenberg’s Prelude, a twentieth-century “Representation of Chaos”, begins with fugal entries representing the moment of creation itself and includes a wordless chorus whose unaccompanied vocalise brings the piece to a rather unexpected conclusion. (See reviews of the complete composite work by Jonathan Woolf and Rob Barnett).
Dreimal Tausend Jahre and Psalm 130 are Schoenberg’s final works. Providing a further reminder of his Jewish faith, here the music represents a distillation of his life’s work. Passages of quasi-tonality alternate with angular 12-tone themes and sprechgesang. Excellent performances and recordings.
We move to New York briefly for the recording of Ode to Napoleon, in which David Wilson-Johnson is joined by the Fred Sherry Quartet and pianist Jeremy Denk. This setting of Byron, whose poem pulled no punches in its condemnation of the French emperor, also served as a pertinent condemnation of Hitler during the Second World War. Of his decision to compose the piece, Schoenberg wrote: “I knew it was the moral duty of intelligentsia to take a stand against tyranny.” First performed at Carnegie Hall by Mack Harrell and Rodzinski in an orchestral version which was later abandoned, Schoenberg attempted to ensure the dramatic values of the work were given full rein by notating precisely the rhythms and dynamic of the spoken text. The performance is first-rate.
Finally, to the main work on the disc, the 1936 Violin Concerto. On its original appearance Rolf Schulte’s coolly accurate performance of Schoenberg’s work was generally much admired, supported as it was by the analytical clarity of Craft’s conducting and the well-balanced sound. Accurate and involved in the opening movement, Schulte is affectionate in the central Andante grazioso, and he and Craft even manage to create genuine Brahmsian warmth as the movement progresses, followed by exuberance in the closing Alla Marcia. However Hilary Hahn’s recent performances and recording have added a new dimension to our understanding of this challenging piece. Hahn brings a warmth and romanticism to the concerto, and perhaps ultimately a sheer love of the music, which Shulte and Craft do not quite match. But it’s a close run thing, and some may prefer the cooler approach on this disc. Certainly in terms of sound there’s not much to choose between them.
A fascinating collection of music by one of the twentieth century greats, performed by one of his most eloquent advocates. Don’t miss it.
Ewan McCormick, MusicWeb International
