Search results: Search results
102 results
Products
-
-
-
C.P.E. Bach: Sonatas for Keyboard & Violin / Podger, Bezuidenhout
Channel Classics · Apr 2023SACD$23.99 -
-
-
SaleBeethoven: Piano Sonata No. 29, 'Hammerklavier' - Eroica Variations / Aimard
PENTATONE · Jul 2021CD$19.99$14.99 -
Haydn: Symphonies 35, 38, 39, 49, 58, & 59 / Solomons, L'Estro Armonico
CBS Masterworks · Jul 2010CD$24.99 -
E . T. A. Hoffmann: Missa; Miserere / Rupert Huber, Wdr Symphony Orchestra Cologne
CPO · Feb 2014CD$18.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Shostakovich: Concerto And Sonata For Cello / Sol Gabetta
Sol Gabetta is a cellist in great demand as a concert performer. If the high-end German record shops such as Ludwig Beck, Munich and Dussmann, Berlin are anything to go by Gabetta is being strongly marketed by her record label. The programme chosen this time for the young Argentine cellist is all-Shostakovich with wonderful accounts of both the Concerto and the Sonata. The Concerto recording was made at live concerts in January 2008 in the admirable acoustic of the Philharmonie at Munich’s Gasteig. The applause has been elided. On the other hand the Sonata in which Gabetta teams up with Romanian-born pianist Mihaela Ursuleasa is a studio recording made in Zurich. My disc was sent from Germany with German-only text.
The Cello Concerto No.2, written in the last decade of his life, was dedicated to Rostropovich who premièred the score at Shostakovich’s 60th birthday concert in Moscow. Compared to the first Cello Concerto, Op. 107 from 1959 this relatively underrated score is only now beginning to establish its rightful place in the repertoire. The harsh constraints of living and working under the Soviet regime must surely have helped shape its character.
In the opening Largo the cello plays virtually continuously. Right from the first bars the darkly brooding intensity of the cello is spine-tingling. Gabetta’s rich mocha-toned instrument is caught splendidly by the sound engineers. Taking the listener by surprise the cannon salvos and pounding martial beat at 3:58-4:03 is highly dramatic. From 4:31 the anguished wails of the cello are remarkably affecting. A reflective passage on the cello at 5:34 and 6:55 is developed by the orchestra into a thickly textured and deeply depressing episode. A concentrated section from 7:28 feels almost overwhelming. Coming as a welcome relief from 8:35 is a more upbeat passage. It is not long before the playful figures become restless and demanding and the overwhelming weight of torment returns. At 10:32-10:59 the percussion blows are quite ferocious and serve as an ominous warning. The pounding continues but fades and disappears into the distance. Over a rumbling and restless orchestra the cello from 12:54 with its plaintive theme tries to calm the agitation.
Serving as a Scherzo the central movement marked Allegretto is terse and highly rhythmic. A waltz-like street theme on the cello with a sardonic twist opens the movement. Horn-calls punctuate the scene together with a colourful array of percussive effects. Gabetta’s energetic playing cuts through the macabre orchestral writing seemingly intent on holding the cello back. Played continuously, the closing movement also an Allegretto, is heralded by a horn fanfare and drum-roll. Gabetta plays a languorous melody of a certain nobility that has been described as “ barcarolle-like”. Especially interesting are the unusual orchestral textures with notable percussive effects. From 4:41 the tempi shift quickly several times and take on a curious galloping quality. At 6:35 the cello theme becomes one of sadness and tender introspection - a mood that underpins the remainder of the movement. Percussion lashes against a frenetic cello line from 9:41 create a disconcerting effect and this builds to a terrifying climax at 10:52. The breathless cello writing then recovers its poise to repeat the melancholic but introspectively steely theme. If that was possible the mood becomes even more mournful with Gabetta’s cello sounding as if it was weeping. Snare drums and other light percussion effects close the score. The orchestra provide warm and positive support .
For alternative versions of the Cello Concerto No.2 I have long been satisfied with that from cellist Heinrich Schiff with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra under Maxim Shostakovich. With playing of impressive assurance the performance was recorded in 1984 at the Hercules Hall, Residenz, Munich on Philips 475 7575. (c/w Shostakovich Cello Concerto No. 1). Another beautifully played account is from cellist Mischa Maisky with the London Symphony Orchestra under Michael Tilson Thomas. It was recorded in 1993 at the Abbey Road Studios in London on Deutsche Grammophon 445 821-2. (c/w Shostakovich Cello Concerto No. 1).
The four movement Cello Sonata was written when Shostakovich still had artistic freedom. This was prior to the denunciation in 1936 by the Soviet authorities and before his fall from favour owing to the opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District. Essentially a lyrical score rather than experimental the Sonata was premièred in 1934 in Moscow by cellist Viktor Kubatsky, its dedicatee. Interestingly there have been several arrangements for viola and piano.
The two main themes of the opening movement could not be more different in character. The first is an upright elegant melody that Gabetta and Ursuleasa. It is intensified in tension and made more weighty until it becomes unruly bordering on stormy. By contrast the second theme is cloaked in lush yearning Romanticism. Gabetta’s glorious tone is outstanding and Ursuleasa revels in the long warm lines. An Allegro the second movement is a countryside romp that Gabetta and Ursuleasa develop into the manner of an excitable folk dance. Sombre and mournful in the third movement Largo Gabetta’s cello sounds as if it is sobbing. The intensity becomes heavier with the cello reaching down to its deepest register. In the skittish and scampering Rondo: Finale the piano has abundant opportunity to shine with Ursuleasa demonstrating her assurance in a number of dazzling runs. It is Gabetta’s relatively restrained cello part that keeps the merriment in check.
For both the splendid playing as well being an important music document I admire the version of the Sonata played by cellist Daniil Shafran and the composer on piano. Recorded in 1956 I have the performance on Revelation RV10017. (c/w Rachmaninov Cello Sonata). I also play often the account from cellist Leonid Gorokhov and pianist Nikolai Demidenko. This satisfying version was recorded at Champs Hill, Pulborough, Sussex in 2004 on ASV Gold GLD4006.
I was perfectly happy with this RCA Victor Red Seal recording in both the concerto and sonata. Gabetta’s cello is placed well forward and is vividly clear. I know of no more dramatic and beautifully played account of the Concerto.
-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International
C.P.E. Bach: Sonatas for Keyboard & Violin / Podger, Bezuidenhout
The Baroque dream team of Rachel Podger and Kristian Bezuidenhout interpret the astonishing music of C.P.E. Bach’s Violin Sonatas in C Minor, B Minor, D Major and G Minor. The two early sonatas here from the 1730s resemble the older style of his father. Listening to these works, you can imagine J.S. Bach glancing over Emanuel's shoulders while he wrote them as a teenager at home in Leipzig. The later sonatas, written 30 to 50 years later, reveal an emancipated composer whose developed musical language embodies the 'Empfindsamer Stil', the directly emotional and rhetorical style characteristic of northern-german music of the time.
Rachel Podger writes: “It was wonderful to delve into the specific musical world that belongs to C.P.E. Bach for this recording with Kris. These violin sonatas are (quite unfortunately!) largely overshadowed by the classical Viennese sonatas of Mozart and Beethoven. Part of his genius is that he is full of surprises and unpredictable turns, and this was hugely enjoyable for me during the musical partnership with the wonderful Kristian Bezuidenhout.”
REVIEWS:
Rachel Podger and Kristian Bezuidenhout are performers of the highest level of technical polish, and I am especially impressed by Bezuidenhout’s imaginative and assertive pianism. Podger’s violin was built by the Genoese maker Antonio Pazarini (Pesarinius) in 1739. Excellent sound from Channel as usual.
-- American Record Guide
Across the later sonatas Kristian Bezuidenhout and Rachel Podger savor the qualities of coaxing, pleading, playfulness, and arresting quirkiness that signal their identification with the so-called Empfindsamer Stil. But nothing is ever cut and dried. The keyboard opening of the B minor Sonata, composed some three decades after its G minor cousin, sounds like a throwback to the teenage work. And, rich in Empfindsamer fingerprints, the Arioso with five variations proves to be a 1780 respray of an earlier work.
At one level, Bezuidenhout and Podger help to pinpoint the chronology, allotting a handsome-sounding copy of an 1805 Walther fortepiano to the later works and a Taskin-inspired harpsichord to the products of the 1730s. It’s just one example of the thoughtfulness with which they approach a set of performances that are as equally persuasive in the bustling, youthful incisiveness of the G minor and D major Sonatas, as in the pristinely-paced, probingly expressive whimsy of the Arioso. Their music-making is infectiously spontaneous yet tellingly ‘considered’ – seamless rapport and impeccably-judged articulation delighting in a stream of illuminating felicities. CPE Bach’s free-spirited sonatas have surely found their free-spirited match.
-- BBC Music Magazine
This is how it’s done, my friends. A completely scrumptious new release from the queen of the Baroque violin, Rachel Podger. In partnership with keyboardist Kristian Bezuidenhout, Rachel gives to us a bit over an hour of completely entrancing music by the often underestimated Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714–1788), fifth child and second surviving son of Johann Sebastian Bach.
There should be nothing underestimated about these keyboard and violin sonatas. They are imaginative, innovative, sublime. Add to this the impeccable performances, with that breath of life Rachel delivers so well in all of her performances, the excellent partnership with Kristian Bezuidenhout, and the utterly delightful recording quality from Jared Sacks, and one has an album to savor again and again. It is a must listen recording.
There is pure joy in Podger's performances, one feels her connection with music, the composer, and her audience. Kristian Bezuidenhout is her perfect partner in these works, As with Podger, his playing is not tied to a metronome. He plays, as does she, with a degree of improvisational exploration that makes these works far more interesting than in many other hands.
Listening to them together, one feels their connection in this music. I was particularly struck by this in their excellent performance of the Sonata in C minor which fairly danced with barely contained energy in the final Presto movement – their timing together is exquisite.
The shift from harpsichord to fortepiano and back again adds great interest to the recital. With the change in instruments, the texture of the sound changes. The balance of the violin and the keyboard shifts. Hard to accomplish in a live performance, but a delightful gift across the breadth of this recording.
-- Paul Rushton of Positive Feedback
Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 29, 'Hammerklavier' - Eroica Variations / Aimard
After his acclaimed interpretation of Messiaen’s Catalogue d’Oiseaux, pianist Pierre-Laurent Aimard returns to PENTATONE with a recording of Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata and Eroica Variations. The Hammerklavier Sonata is one of the pinnacles of Beethoven’s creative output, and arguably one of the highest mountains to climb for any pianist. To Aimard, it poses one of the most frightening tests of a performer’s life, but one that is as irresistible as it is insurmountable. The dazzling Eroica Variations are nicknamed after Beethoven’s iconoclastic Third Symphony, and employ the melody he would later use as the main theme of the symphony’s finale. Beethoven’s fondness for this melody is evident, as he also used it in his ballet music for The Creatures of Prometheus, as well as in the seventh of his 12 Contredanses. Widely acclaimed as a key figure in the music of our time and as a uniquely significant interpreter of piano repertoire from every age, Pierre-Laurent Aimard enjoys an internationally celebrated career. He started his exclusive engagement to PENTATONE with a complete recording of Messiaen’s Catalogue d’Oiseaux (2018).
REVIEW:
Having heard Pierre-Laurent Aimard give several intense and impassioned live performances of Beethoven’s Hammerklavier sonata over the past several seasons, his studio recording generally seems reserved and even foursquare by comparison.
To be certain, his exemplary technique allows for no vagaries of voice leading or textural misfires, while Pentatone’s production values do justice to Aimard’s tonal clarity and transparency at quieter dynamic levels. Still, there’s a pre-planned quality about nearly every breath pause, tenuto, caesura, and dynamic hairpin that somewhat dissipates the outer movements’ continuity and momentum. This is not a function of Aimard’s generally conservative tempos, although the fugal finale becomes heavier and less timbrally alluring as the music unfolds (this is true about most performances, to be fair).
Interestingly, in concert Aimard’s outer movements went for broke, while the Adagio sostenuto came off sounding relatively reserved and reticent. Here, however, Aimard’s expressive palette opens up, with a controlled freedom to the rubatos that culminates in a devastating climax. In the rising chain of broken fifths and sixths between hands just before the first-movement recapitulation (measures 224-226), Aimard reads the lower note upbeat as A-natural, rather than the so-called “inspired misprint” A-sharp, vis-à-vis Kempff, Petri, Brendel, and Perahia; I personally prefer A-sharp, as do Schnabel, Solomon, Arrau, and Levit.
Years ago during a public master class I heard Aimard spontaneously launch into a most inspired and unified reading of Beethoven’s 32 Variations in C minor. Similar inspiration and unity abound throughout his Eroica Variations, with more than a few audacious touches.
I like the force of his right-hand triplets in Variation 2, buttoned by brash left-hand accents at phrase endings, as much as No. 5’s ruminative delicacy. In No. 6, Aimard’s suave, effortlessly dispatched broken octaves enable the offbeat accents their due without pressing the point. All the more surprising that No. 13’s triplet chords and witty melodic appogiaturas don’t match the insouciant thrust one hears from Clifford Curzon. Yet the concluding Fugue has the variety of character and articulation that I expected to encounter more consistently throughout Aimard’s Hammerklavier Fugue.
– ClassicsToday.com (Jed Distler)
Haydn 2032, Vol. 16 - The Surprise (LP)
Haydn: Symphonies 35, 38, 39, 49, 58, & 59 / Solomons, L'Estro Armonico
The most remarkable of [these works] are the two minor-key symphonies that reflect the influence of the Sturm und Drang ("Storm and Stress") movement in German literature of the time: the impassioned No. 39 in G minor with its four horns, which inspired similar works in the same key by J. C. Bach, Vanhal and Mozart, and the sombre No, 49 in F minor, known as La passione and the last and greatest of Haydn's symphonies in the form of the sonata do chiesa (with the slow movement placed first). Of the other four works, No. 38 in C - in Haydn's festive manner - with trumpets and drums and C alto horns, is particularly striking not least because of its stunning, concertonle oboe solo in the finale, probably written, as H. C. Robbins Landon suggests in the accompanying booklet, to show oft the Esterházy orchestra's new oboist Vittorino Colombazzo. No. 59 in A, known as the Fire for reasons that remain obscure, is full of excitement and dramatic surprises, such as the totally unexpected entry of the oboes and horns two-thirds of the way through the slow movement, and the extraordinary fortissimo horn call that interrupts the return of the main theme a few bars later. No. 35 in B flat is on the whole a sunny, exuberant work, though with an unexpected outburst of passionate counterpoint in the first movement's development section; and No. 58 in F has an almost chamber-musical intimacy and boasts an amusing menuet alla zoppa ("Limping Minuet") that frames a dark-hued Trio that sounds, in Landon's words,, "rather as if a group of slightly sinister Gypsies had suddently entered the feast".
The performances are distinguished by their clean textures, rhythmic precision and nice feeling for tempo; there is a tasteful, and never obtrusive, harpsichord continuo and some spectacular high horn-playing. Perhaps the two minor-key symphonies could do with rather more weight and intensity, but on the whole it would be hard to imagine performances of more freshness and conviction. Even the tendency towards short-breathed phrases in the slow movements and to vibrato-less bulges in the string playing seem less noticeable than before. The recording is every bit as vivid as were the earlier ones [released on Saga Records, now unavailable]—and that is high praise.
-- Gramophone [7/1982]
E . T. A. Hoffmann: Missa; Miserere / Rupert Huber, Wdr Symphony Orchestra Cologne
E. T. A. HOFFMANN Mass in d, AV 18. Miserere in b?, AV 42 • Rupert Huber, cond; Sibylla Rubens, Jutta Böhnert (sop); Rebecca Martin (mez); Thomas Cooley (ten); York Felix Speer (bs); WDR Radio Ch; WDR SO • CPO 777832 (62:01 Text and Translation)
Butcher, baker, candlestick maker? Well, not exactly, but it wouldn’t be off the mark to call E. T. A. Hoffmann (1776–1822) a polymath, for he was one of Germany’s greatest early Romantic writers of fantasy fiction and horror tales, a lawyer and a jurist, a draftsman and a caricaturist, and a music critic and serious writer on the art of music and its aesthetics. And, oh yes, by the way, did I mention that in his spare time he was a composer? His output includes a symphony, several stage works, a handful of piano sonatas, a piano trio, a harp quintet, and of course, the concerted choral-orchestral Mass and Miserere on this disc.
Hoffmann’s literary works are commonly cited as the inspiration for Schumann’s Kreisleriana and Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffmann, but less often noted is that Hoffmann’s novella The Nutcracker and the Mouse King was the basis for Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker, and that Léo Delibes’s ballet Coppélia is also based on stories by Hoffmann.
Hoffmann’s literary works had more of an influence on 19th-century composers and the Romantic movement than his musical compositions did, for his abilities as a composer were judged to be more modest than his talent for the written word. Add to that his relatively small output, and it’s hardly surprising that there’s not a lot of E. T. A. Hoffmann’s music on disc. In light of this, what’s perhaps surprising is that this is at least the third recording of the Miserere I’m aware of. A performance on Koch-Schwann/Music Sacra with a different conductor and cast of vocal soloists, but the same chorus and, I believe, the same orchestra was reviewed by David Johnson in 12:4. And yet another recording, also on Koch Schwann, but this time with an entirely different cast of singers, players, and conductor—Rolf Beck, leading the Southwest German Vocal Ensemble and the Concerto Bamberg—was released in 1997, 10 years later.
Johnson was mightily impressed by the Miserere, calling it “a work of genuine, even astonishing power and beauty,” an assessment with which I wholly concur. The piece wasn’t published in Hoffmann’s lifetime, and the exact date of composition isn’t given. It can be deduced, however, that Hoffmann had to have completed it towards the end of 1806 or the beginning of 1807, for the work was to have been performed at the ceremonies earlier in 1806 when Archduke Ferdinand of Austria became the Grand Duke of Würzburg, but the score wasn’t ready in time. It didn’t receive its first performance until Good Friday, 1809.
It’s important to keep in mind when listening to this masterful piece of choral/orchestral writing that its date of composition coincides with that of Beethoven’s C-Major Mass, op. 86. Yet if I had to make a comparison to Hoffmann’s Miserere, it wouldn’t be to Beethoven’s chronologically contemporary Mass, but to a work of 17 or so years earlier, Mozart’s Requiem. Whether Hoffmann was consciously imitating the musical style of that work or not, it’s impossible to say, but the similarities are striking.
Listen to the sighs in the strings just seconds into the opening movement, and tell me you don’t expect to hear the mournful entry of the basset horns. Or tell me there isn’t a resemblance between the Miserere’s “Ecce enim in veritatem” and the Offertorium of the Requiem in the Süssmayer completion.
Understand that in no way am I diminishing Hoffmann’s effort. His Miserere is a gorgeous work, and there’s much in it that postdates Mozart stylistically, specifically the vocal solos, which tend to be more ornate and less liturgical sounding than what Mozart would have considered proper for a sacred setting of such a solemn text, and also in the more symphonic scoring and treatment of the orchestral parts. But as noted by Johnson, Hoffmann additionally takes great pains to fully demonstrate his contrapuntal skills, composing “grand choral double fugues that Bach, himself, could have found no fault with.”
However you hear Hoffmann’s Miserere—whether as an echo of Mozart, a sympathetic vibration with Beethoven, or a precursor to Verdi—it doesn’t matter, as long as you hear it, because it’s a stunning work, which really ought to spark a reassessment of E. T. A. Hoffmann’s output in general.
The Mass in D Minor is a little earlier than the Miserere, dating from between 1803 and 1805, but it’s composed on an equally grand scale. The solemn introductory measures followed by a running fugue is reminiscent of the type of Baroque overture one hears at the beginning of Handel’s Messiah, and simultaneously anticipatory of the overture to Mendelssohn’s Elijah.
As in the Miserere, Mozart looms large over major portions of the Mass. Listen, for example, to the Kyrie, which once again reverberates with recollections of Mozart’s Requiem. But now Haydn takes a bow in the joyful Gloria. Yet through it all, a new Romantic spirit infuses Hoffmann’s work. It’s not as daring as Beethoven’s adventures of the same timeframe, but then whose were?
One thing that deserves some criticism, in my opinion, is Hoffmann’s over-reliance on fugue. At first, one marvels at his aptitude for counterpoint, but when a fugue appears in practically every movement, not only does one begin to wonder if Hoffmann isn’t short on arrows in his quiver, but the recurring fugal textures begin to become a bit tiresome. Remember Saint-Saëns’s dictum: “A fugue is a piece where the voices come in and the audience goes out one at a time.”
Koch-Schwann seems to have taken more than a passing interest in E. T. A. Hoffmann back in the 1990s, for in addition to the above-cited recordings of the Miserere, the label also released a recording of this Mass in 1999, featuring the chorus and orchestra of the Capella Cracoviensis, led by Roland Bader. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard that one either, so I have no basis for comparing different versions of the works on this disc. CPO, however, rarely disappoints in its releases, and the soloists, chorus, and orchestra heard in these performances sound secure in execution and thoroughly engaged in the moment of the music. The recording, too, is excellent—open, spacious, bright, and detailed, without any reverb to muddy the singers’ diction. Very strongly recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Nuit a Venise
Venice was surely the capital of music and the arts in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and one of the most coveted positions in the city was that of maestro di cappella at St. Mark’s Basilica. A few lucky chosen candidates succeeded one another in bringing to life the musical splendour of the basilica, all of them fabulous musicians and composers prolonging the legacy of the great Claudio Monteverdi. For its third recording on Alpha, the ensemble Les Surprises has chosen to sail towards Venetian waters and mix with these geniuses of affect, word-setting and theatre, exploring music that ranges from grandiose double choruses to intimate duets or trios combining sacred and profane.
Beethoven: Piano Sonatas No 8, 14 & 23 / Freddy Kempf
A generation of strict musicologists, literalist critics, and unimaginative performers will be offended by Freddy Kempf’s traversal of Beethoven’s three most approachable “name” sonatas, because the young Englishman is by no means strict, literal, or unimaginative. He seems to be goading us with the very first chord of the “Pathétique,” sustaining only the left-hand notes, creating an unexpectedly blunt strike against the keyboard (an effect he reproduces every time that passage repeats). The introductory material is full of hesitations and rubato that call to mind C. P. E. Bach, and the main theme takes off like the proverbial bat out of hell. Never does Kempf’s handling of the music seem arbitrary, but it is surprising enough to keep jaded listeners alert.
There’s tenderness and repose here, too, notably in the second movement of the “Pathétique,” although this movement also has its odd dull moments. The over-famous first movement of the “Moonlight” sonata is full of unexpected detail, although it is neither sentimentalized nor excessively dramatized. The final movement is fleet and assertive, with immaculate passagework, all the while Kempf proving that it’s not necessary to hammer the klavier. The “Appassionata” has fewer surprises, yet it’s keenly organized (listen to his absolutely right transition into the final presto pages), and fiery in the outer movements. In DSD surround mode, the recorded sound is close in a reverberant space, perhaps a bit harder in forte passages than is ideal; it’s more generalized and quite solid in two-channel CD playback.
Kempf’s Beethoven, while by no means outlandish (certainly not by the standards of a century ago), will not please listeners who frown on any little departure from the printed score. But it’s full of panache that never misrepresents Beethoven, and it’s that rarest of things, a new standard-rep recording individual enough to justify being released into a crowded market.
James Reel, FANFARE
Satie Surprises
The Beethoven Violin Sonatas: Live at Library of Congress
C.P.E. Bach: Flute Sonatas
Ries: Grande Sonata Fantasia"l'Infortunee"; Fantasies
Haydn2032, Vol. 16 - The Surprise
Beethoven: Piano Sonatas Op 10, No 1, 2 & 3 / Mari Kodama
BEETHOVEN Piano Sonatas , op. 10/1–3 • Mari Kodama (pn) • PENTATONE 5186 377 (SACD: 59:20)
This is the latest installment of a cycle-in-progress (though new to me) by Mari Kodama, a Japanese student of Nikolayeva and Brendel. Her playing is impressive in its refinement and control, if occasionally a little predictable. The three op. 10s make for a satisfying program, though they’re curiously presented in reverse order here (Beethoven’s own is more logical, with the biggest, most ambitious work placed last).
No. 1 in C Minor goes well, with few surprises. Kodama generally lets the outer movements speak for themselves—straight, incisive, dramatic, forceful, with effective lyrical contrasts. Tension is well maintained, with a convincing sense of real performance (vs. a recording-studio run-through). The Adagio is straightforward, perhaps to a fault—here I miss the imaginative flexibility and expressive depths others bring to the music (e.g., Schiff/ECM, Lewis/Harmonia Mundi, or the recently reviewed Ohlsson/Bridge and Ehlen/Azica). The recorded sound of her Steinway is rich, resonant, and close, but a little “plummy” for my taste, with a pronounced resonant overhang. Her playing is certainly not over-pedaled, but a real staccato articulation is in short supply.
This is a bigger drawback in the first movement of No. 2 in F where, for all the poise and polish, Beethoven’s numerous injunctions to very short articulations (e.g., at the beginning, bars 38 ff., and 47 ff.) are rarely effectively realized. The development has a slightly stolid feel (the second repeat is observed). The F-Minor Allegretto is taken slowly, to rather dour effect, with (for my taste) an insufficient variety of texture and attack; the Presto finale is kept well under control at a moderate tempo. In the last resort, I find this all a little too uneventful.
The big D Major receives the most consistently satisfying performance of the three. The opening Presto is richly varied, supple and sinuous, with an exciting surging momentum. The Largo e mesto is all dark, glinting marble, and in this instance the finale finds her relishing the music’s wide-ranging phrase and textural discontinuities.
So, a slightly mixed bag. But there’s much playing of real distinction here, and anyone wanting a high-quality version of the three op. 10s in state-of-the-art sound won’t go wrong. For the general collector, perhaps not a first choice (see alternatives mentioned above), but I’ll be keeping this in my collection, and can see returning to the first and third sonatas.
FANFARE: Boyd Pomeroy
This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.
Beethoven: Early Piano Sonatas, Opp. 2-7-10
C. P. E. Bach: Berlin Symphonies / Zacharias, Lausanne Chamber Orchestra
C. P. E. BACH Symphonies, Wq 174–75, 178–81 • Christian Zacharias, cond; CO de Lausanne • MDG 9401824 (SACD: 68:49)
Students and fans of C. P. E. Bach will rejoice in this recording of six of his short but feisty and innovative symphonies from the late 1700s. Although the performances aren’t quite as dynamic or lively as those by Hartmut Haenchen with the C. P. E. Bach Chamber Orchestra (Berlin Classics) or Gustav Leonhardt with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment (Virgin), they are certainly beautifully phrased and well articulated. The Andante and Largo movements, in particular, have a lovely sense of repose that Haenchen does not always achieve.
As the liner notes explain, the three-movement concert symphony began in Crown Prince Frederick’s small court orchestra. What the notes don’t explain is that it was essentially an outgrowth of the tripartite “overture” style developed by both French and German composers. This may explain C. P. E. Bach’s penchant for linking movements, something that was certainly ahead of its time, but it’s interesting to note that when other composers such as Haydn and Mozart began to emulate this style, they usually wrote three completely separate movements, thus un-linking the music. But, of course, there’s a lot more to Bach’s music here than just linked movements. The harmonic audacity (for its time), angular melodic structure ( far ahead of its time), and quirky pauses in the flow of the music (copied to some extent by Haydn, but largely unique to him) make his music much more than museum pieces. One example among many of his audacity and originality: listen to the agitated string figures in the first movement of the Symphony Wq 178, with their frequent and audacious upward key changes. They sound almost identical to the music with which Gluck introduces his “storm” music in the first scene of Iphigénie en Tauride. To be honest, I’m surprised that C. P. E. Bach’s music isn’t programmed more often in modern-day symphony concerts. It certainly holds up well and, in fact, makes a better complement to any 20th-century works that may also be in the same concert.
This is one of those cases where saying little about a disc actually says a lot. Any attempt to over-analyze this music or over-praise the performances would be futile, since this is primarily an auditory experience. Nevertheless, as I have tried to make clear, these are very good performances of some truly outstanding music.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Saint-Saens: Piano Concertos / Descharmes, Soustrot, Malmo Symphony
Soustrot’s Saint-Saëns symphony cycle was quite good, and this new project looks to be similarly successful. For my money, the five piano concertos remain one of the most underrated groups of major works in the entire romantic repertoire. Yes, Nos. 2 and 4 get played more often than the rest, but there isn’t a dud in the bunch. It’s really only prejudice against the French aesthetic–the formal freedom, love of color, flash, and the dance–that prevents the music from getting the recognition that it deserves. That, and perhaps the fact that the melodious ease that informs all of Saint-Saëns’ writing makes a mockery of German pretensions to ownership of instrumental music in large forms.
These performances demonstrate a thoroughly “French” sensibility. Romain Descharmes savors the music’s charm and brilliance without indulging in excessive sentimentality. The First Concerto, with its surprising wiring for horns, has a breezy freshness that completely disarming. It’s played with joyful directness and a complete lack of affectation. I enjoy fast and dazzling versions of the Second Symphony, with its whirlwind finale, but Descharmes treats the piece with almost epicurean relish, nowhere more so than in this sassy, witty account of the central scherzo. There’s no lack of virtuosity, but also time to savor the music’s many harmonic delights.
Through it all, Soustrot accompanies with total confidence, and the sonics are terrific. A disc to savor.
– ClassicsToday (David Hurwitz)
SYMPHONY NO. 8 C MAJOR D 944
Galuppi: Sei Sonate A Tre A Due Violini E Basso Continuo
GALUPPI 6 Trio Sonatas • Accademia dei Solinghi • DYNAMIC 694 (54:05)
Venetian composer Baldassare Galuppi wrote his six trio sonatas, according to Danilo Prefumo’s notes, in 1760, and with their homophonic textures, relatively simple melodic patterns diced into relatively short, often repeated phrases, and their division into three movements each (fast-slow-fast), they look forward to the Classical era rather than back toward the Baroque, despite their being composed in the venerable genre of the trio sonata (it’s a case of new wine in old bottles rather than old wine in new bottles). William S. Newman treated Galuppi’s works (primarily his keyboard sonatas) in his book on the Classical era rather than in his volume on the Baroque: He deemed Galuppi a preeminent pre-Classical composer. The sonatas surely aren’t without affecting sentiment, as the First Sonata’s slow movement or especially the sighs from the Second Sonata’s corresponding movement show (in addition, in the Second Sonata, to the dialog pitting the two violins against the harpsichord). The first movement of the Second Sonata bustles with a kind of energy that even Antonio Vivaldi’s sharply chiseled concerto subjects don’t always evince. It may not be surprising to find all these concertos written in the major mode (in this case, A, F, D, G, B?, and E) in light of Newman’s estimate that Galuppi wrote more than 80 percent of his sonatas in major.
In general, the sonatas’ first movements crackle (many listeners, cueing a random track, might relatively easily identify it as a first movement or a finale); the second movements, as noted above, include sensitive turns of phrase and harmonic subtleties (some even recalling Mozart, though Newman dismisses the suggestion of a direct influence on the later composer); the finales, though often marked Allegro , frequently glide elegantly rather than drive forward (with occasional exceptions, like the finale of the Fifth Sonata, the jaunty figuration of which spans both manners). Prefumo notes the title given the Sixth Sonata’s slow movement, Dialogo tra Pasquino e Marforio , perhaps referring to two Roman “talking statues.” In any case, this brief movement, subtitled Recitativo instrumentato , features passages that Galuppi, as a noted opera composer, may have delighted to transfer to this instrumental genre; the sonata’s finale also bears a title, in this case, Ritornello , though the device hardly suggests the one by the same name that characterized Vivaldi’s concertos. The Accademia dei Solinghi (Claudio Adriani playing an Andrea Guarneri violin from 1675, Franco Simeoni playing a violin made in 2007 by Franco Simeoni, Alessandro Peiretti playing an anonymous late 18th-century cello, and Rita Peiretti playing a harpsichord made by Davide Peiretti in 1986) endows these sonatas with a brusque energy that brings to vivid life Charles Burney’s remarks, after he’d encountered Galuppi’s music in Italy, about the composer’s youthful imagination. Dynamic has provided a close up portrait of the ensemble, yet surrounds the instruments with enough reverberation to fuse their crunchy textures into a pleasingly mellifluous amalgam. On the basis of the sonatas’ lively and ingratiating melodic imagination and of the energetic and sympathetic performances by the Accademia, Dynamic’s release should appeal more widely than to specialists.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
---------
For some centuries Venice was one of the main centres of music-making in Italy. In the early 18th century Vivaldi was the key figure in the music scene, composing numerous operas, sacred works and instrumental pieces. After his death in 1741 his place was taken by Baldassare Galuppi, who soon became the most fashionable Italian master. His popularity was such that pieces by other composers were sold as written by Galuppi. One example is a setting of the Dixit Dominus which was purchased by the court in Dresden as a composition by Galuppi. Only fairly recently the true identity of the composer was discovered: Antonio Vivaldi.
Galuppi was born in Burano which explains his nickname 'Buranello'. His father was a violinist, who worked as a barber for a living. Galuppi's main teacher was Antonio Lotti. The English journalist Charles Burney visited Galuppi in 1770 and wrote: "Signor Galuppi was a scholar of the famous Lotti, and very early taken notice as a good harpsichord player, and a genius in composition. (...) He certainly merits all that can be done for him, being one of the few remaining original geniuses of the best school perhaps that Italy ever saw. His compositions are always ingenious and natural, and I may add, that he is a good contrapuntist, and a friend to poetry."
Galuppi has mainly become famous as a composer of operas, both serious and comic. His output in this genre is huge. In addition his work-list includes a large number of serenatas, oratorios and liturgical music. The largest part of his instrumental music is for keyboard. His oeuvre for instrumental ensemble is relatively limited: eight concertos for harpsichord and strings, seven concerti a quattro and the six trio sonatas which are the subject of this disc. They probably date from around 1760; they were not printed but have been preserved in a manuscript which is kept in the library of the University of Uppsala.
The judgement of Charles Burney that Galuppi was a "good contrapuntist" is affirmed by these sonatas which are written in the galant idiom. They are also an expression of the ideal of naturalness which was propagated by the Italian violin virtuoso and composer Giuseppe Tartini. All the sonatas are in three movements: fast - slow - fast. Although the two violins are basically treated on an equal footing, in several movements the first violin dominates, like the the first and last from the Sonata No. 1 in A and in the largo from the Sonata No. 3 in D. The adagio from the Sonata No. 2 in F is notable for its expression, partly through the use of general pauses. One of the most exuberant and technically brilliant movements is the closing allegro from the Sonata No. 4 in G.
The Sonata No. 6 in E has a remarkable middle movement, which is called Dialogo tra Pasquino e Marforio, in the form of a recitative. This is explained in the liner-notes: "Pasquinio and Marforio are names still used today in Rome for two statutes [=statues] from the Roman age, on which in past centuries the inhabitants of the Eternal City used to place mocking epigraphs and messages (called 'Pasquinate') referring to the establishment or public personalities. The statues were also called 'talking statues'; in Rome there were no fewer than six statues of this type, though Pasquino and Marforio were the most famous. Galuppi's short recitative may then be a playful allusion to some fact or event witnessed at the time of composition, or it might bear cryptic references to his time which, at the moment, we cannot clarify". This can only become clearer if we knew for sure the exact date and place of composition.
These trio sonatas are late specimens of a genre soon to disappear to make way for trios in which all parts were treated strictly equally, like the string trio. The Accademia dei Solinghi delivers good performances which may be a little less polished than we are used to hearing from the best ensembles of today. I have greatly enjoyed this disc, though, and if you decide to purchase it you certainly won't be disappointed. Music and performance make this recording well worth investigating.
-- Johan van Veen, MusicWeb International
Nickel: Sonatas & Chamber Music for Oboes / Vanderkolk
The soulful sounds of the oboe and oboe d’amore infuse the expressive, lyrical new album of solo and chamber works by award-winning Canadian composer Christopher Tyler Nickel. The star of the show is Seattle Symphony principal Mary Lynch VanderKolk, whose artistry plays a vital role in Chris’ compositional process. He explains, “I find ways to incorporate her strengths and personality into expressing the music’s emotions.” The Oboe Sonata, dedicated to Mary, is by turns haunting and pastoral, navigating the full three-octave range of the instrument. The Sonata for Oboe d’amore demonstrates the large timbral and emotional range of the oboe’s lower-pitched cousin, from darkness to light.
Undaunted by the historic canon of iconic solo instrumental works already in existence, Chris – an oboist himself – created a tour de force with his Suite for Unaccompanied Oboe, a work Mary describes as “more cinematic” than his other concert works, not surprising perhaps given his countless award-winning TV, film, and theatrical scores. The album concludes with what is surely the only Oboe d’amore Quintet ever composed. The instrument’s plaintive tone takes center stage against the backdrop of string quartet, as the work moves from serenity, melancholy, and nostalgia, before ending with an invigorating finale that brings the inspiring album to a close.
REVIEWS:
Featuring the talents of oboist Mary Lynch VanderKolk, the new album Christopher Tyler Nickel: Sonatas and Chamber Music for Oboe and Oboe d’amore masterfully explores the full range and lyrical aspects of the oboe while spiritedly challenging its technical capabilities. Opening with the Oboe Sonata specifically composed for VanderKolk, Nickel’s own familiarity with the oboe is clearly demonstrated as he insightfully captures the strengths of the player – creating beautifully sweeping lines that showcase VanderKolk’s colourful and lyrical capabilities as she artfully navigates the dynamic and rhythmic passages in a way that only the most consummate performer could. Imagining the pensive sadness of the lone instrument at twilight is what one may experience as they listen to Nickel’s second piece of this collection, the Oboe d’amore Sonata.
The album concludes with the Quintet for Oboe d’amore for the namesake instrument and string quartet in a uniquely distinctive composition drawing the listener in with the dark, melancholic timbre of the double-reed instrument traditionally only heard in Baroque music, making this piece the first of its kind and a true testament to this Canadian composer’s proclivity for the oboe family and ability to fashion narrowly defined aspects of both music and the instrument into a broader phenomenon.
-- The Whole Note
Violin Sonatas: Strauss, Respighi / Little, Lane
R. STRAUSS Violin Sonata, Op. 18. RESPIGHI Violin Sonata in b. Six Pieces: Melodia; Valse caressante; Serenata • Tasmin Little (vn); Piers Lane (pn) • CHANDOS 10749 (65:50)
Violinist Tasmin Little has amassed a very respectable discography on a number of different labels, though of late, she seems to have settled in as one of Chandos’s house artists. Her recent recording of Delius’s Violin Concerto received an urgent recommendation from me in 35:4, so I really looked forward to receiving her latest release of these two late romantic sonatas.
On the surface, Richard Strauss and Respighi may not seem to have a lot in common, but their respective violin sonatas have been paired on disc before, notably by Kyung-Wha Chung and Krystian Zimerman for Deutsche Grammophon and by Frank Almond and William Wolfram for Avie. Strauss composed his sonata in 1887 at the age of 23. It’s an inspired outpouring of youth hardly recognizable as music by the composer that Strauss would become. Respighi’s B-Minor Sonata—an earlier sonata in D Minor dates from the composer’s teens—was written in 1917, exactly 30 years later than Strauss’s sonata, by a more mature composer of 38.
Strauss’s sonata will no doubt be permanently associated with Heifetz, not because he championed it and twice recorded it, but because of his callous and stubborn determination to perform the piece in 1953 before an Israeli audience that still considered Strauss a Nazi collaborator and whose emotions were still raw from the Holocaust. That little stunt nearly cost Heifetz his career when an assailant attacked him outside his hotel, striking his right arm with an iron bar. While I don’t condone the death threats and violence against him, I understand the intensity of feelings that were aroused. Heifetz had no one to blame but himself for his own arrogance and intractable insensitivity. He canceled his last concert and departed Israel post haste, not to return there again until 1970.
The shame of it all is that Strauss’s sonata was written half a century before Hitler rose to power, and the piece is a passionate and deeply touching reflection of the late 19th-century German musical culture in which Strauss came of age. Unsurprisingly, Liszt and Wagner, both recently dead, appear as frequent ghosts throughout the sonata’s pages, but another guest one meets, less frequently perhaps but still very much alive when Strauss wrote the piece, is Brahms.
Respighi is not an easy composer to categorize. Some see him, as they see Strauss, Puccini, Rachmaninoff, and Sibelius as manifestations of a resistant strain of late romanticism that persisted well into the 20th century, while others have referred to Respighi as an Impressionist. I think one could support either view. There’s no question but that Respighi’s sonata is the more modern of the two works on the disc, at least in terms of its approach to harmony and tonality, but it remains an essentially romantic work in its gestural language—i.e., in its sweeping vistas and appeal to the emotions, both public and private.
The last time I reviewed a recording of Strauss’s violin sonata was in 32:3. That Atma CD also contained violin and piano works by Elgar and Ravel in performances by Jonathan Crow and Paul Stewart which I called “a desideratum of indescribably beautiful music matched by indescribably beautiful playing.” Pardon the pun, but Tasmin Little brings more than a little of Crow’s eloquent and elegant playing to the Strauss, but I would also have to say that in some of the sonata’s more technically taxing passages, she can sound ever so slightly flustered; and while the notes never actually get away from her, one senses she’s making an effort to stay on top of them. Next to Crow’s Strauss, another performance I’ve long liked is that by Dmitri Sitkovetsky on Virgin Classics. He has the technical chops to pull it off smoothly, but I don’t find him quite as emotionally engaged as either Crow or Little. Whatever the reason, Respighi’s sonata seems to suit Little a little better, both technically and temperamentally. Her performance of the piece is lithe and fully responsive to the score’s rapidly shifting moods and colors. In my opinion, it easily outclasses Tanja Becker-Bender on Hyperion, whose reading I find somewhat flighty and rudderless.
Overall, this has to be rated a very fine effort, and not just by Little, but also by Piers Lane who partners her most excellently on the piano, and by Chandos, which provides its usual deep and vivid sound. This may not be the absolute best Strauss out there, but it’s definitely among the very best of the Respighis, and the extra three encores from Respighi’s Six Pieces for Violin and Piano make for a most enriching program. Easily recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
-----------
Chandos have prided themselves on having a deep and long-term available back catalogue. Though distantly separated in time the present CD can be seen as an adjunct to two of the grand Chandos series of the 1980s and 1990s. The first was the Respighi orchestral music edition built around the Edward Downes BBCPO symphonies and concertos but supplemented by earlier discs conducted by Geoffrey Simon - still truly splendid - and later ones from Hickox and Noseda. The Downes and Simon discs would shine anew if issued in a box or boxes. The second comprised the half dozen discs they issued in the 1980s golden days of Järvi conducting the then SNO in the major orchestral works of Richard Strauss.
These two violin and piano works have previously appeared - although separately - on Chandos. There were in fact two CDs of the Strauss Sonata – one from Lydia Mordkovitch and the other from Sasha Rozhdestvensky. It comes as no surprise that the Respighi was also recorded by Mordkovitch. She contributed so much to the label that I have every reason to expect that, one of these days, there will be a complete Mordkovitch Chandos Edition. It’s certainly deserved – at least as much as a Takako Nishizaki edition for Naxos.
Little and Lane’s Strauss Sonata is flooded with melodic light and surges and muses with all the eruptive and serenading romance of the same composer’s Don Juan. Both Tasmin Little and Piers Lane are obviously up for it and flatter the 1887 Strauss with a most inward reading which makes it appear a greater work than perhaps it is. The stormy romance of the outer movements of the 1917 Respighi Sonata is emphasised by the utterly peaceful and romantically centred Sargasso calm of the Andante second movement. It stands head and shoulders above the other sonata movements on this disc, masterfully treading that febrile line between poetry and self-conscious sentimentality. Both Little and Lane have every right to be proud of their achievement here. Speaking of that mood we have three movements from the salon-destined and designed Sei Pezzi. I lament that the other three Kreislerian movements were not included – there was space. A puzzling and regretted omission.
With thanks to Chandos for commissioning a liner-note from the inspired Jessica Duchen. Such a fine writer and one whose Korngold book (Phaidon Press) has been unjustly eclipsed by the ‘major definitive biography’. The Duchen is much more than a valid alternative. Indeed, Korngold is a far from irrelevant comparison in the company of the two composers so nobly represented on this disc.
– Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International
Scharwenka: Violin Sonatas
Romantic Viola Sonatas / Togawa, Grigoryan
Onslow’s Sonata is in fact his own transcription for viola of the first of his three Cello Sonatas Op 16. I have previously expressed enthusiasm for Onslow on this site, and this interesting sonata proves as imaginatively conceived and executed as his String Quintets which are currently being recorded by the Elan Quintet and released systematically by Naxos. While this sonata is not especially earth-shattering it is unusually democratic as the instrumental protagonists are clearly treated as equal collaborators. The opening Allegro is pleasing enough, amiable if rather conventional. The work’s true heart and highlight is the gorgeous Andante. It is odd how individual movements in Onslow’s large and unfamiliar output sometimes make one stop in one’s tracks. Such is the case with this limpid and tender Andante where violist and pianist demonstrate a deeply intuitive sympathy. Onslow’s stylistic influences tended to be Beethoven and Schubert but this early work hasn’t fully absorbed the spirit of these Romantic giants and I find there is something rather Gallic about it. Focusing on Grigoryan’s restrained accompaniment it’s possible to perceive something of French music’s future; it has a weirdly wistful and melancholic Faurean hue. The final Allegretto is contrastingly light as air and full of a youthful joie de vivre. It’s enjoyable, delightfully played and cleanly recorded.
There follows a rare outing for Mendelssohn’s Viola Sonata. I can hear some readers reacting with surprise – “Mendelssohn wrote a Viola Sonata??” Not only A viola sonata. In terms of the viola as we know it, ie not the viola d’amore, my research has thus far failed to turn up an earlier example of this form. (I’m sure somebody reading this will be far better informed….) It dates from 1824 when Mendelssohn was in teenage prodigy mode, although it has no opus number and wasn’t in fact published until 1966. It’s a dark inspiration and it nails its colours to the mast from the first bar of the opening Adagio-Allegro. Its gloomy countenance is tackled with great restraint by Hiyoli Tagowa as if to emphasise the contrast with the more conventional Allegro section which follows although this is not without its own moments of introspection (an 1820s example of teenage angst?). The melodic lines are unusually chromatic. The way the music simply fades at the conclusion of this movement is most novel, and beautifully managed by both players. Indeed the entire work is full of original touches and consequently its relative neglect is puzzling to me. It is scarcely believable that this sonata, with its unusual but utterly convincing structure and especially the brooding darkness of its melodic content could possibly have been produced by a boy of 15. The following Menuetto-Allegro molto will be familiar to anyone on nodding terms with Mendelssohn’s First Symphony (also in C minor) which followed soon after the sonata in March 1824 as it was reworked as the symphony’s third movement. The ensemble between the two players is again outstanding, the instruments have been very closely recorded but this doesn’t detract from the overall sound, which is truthful but never excessively so. The finale is more typically Mendelssohnian and employs his beloved variation form, though the final Allegro forms a kind of independent coda to the whole work, and sort of acts as a counterweight for the first movement fade-out. Another truly individual touch is the piano solo which dominates the final variation. This is lovingly played by Lilit Grigoryan who truly makes the most of her moment. It also underlines the fact that just as in the Onslow work, piano and viola are equals here. While this sonata is not necessarily a masterpiece of Octet proportions the viola repertoire is hardly overflowing and Mendelssohn’s early contribution to the form should surely be better known. It seems the most significant rival to this new recording is the one by Paul Coletti and Leslie Howard on a Hyperion disc from 1998 (CDA 66946), but this is a superlative account from Togawa and Grigoryan, the highlight of the disc for me.
It concludes with the equally unfamiliar set of Six Nocturnes Op 186 by the prolific Johann Kalliwoda, born in Prague in 1801. The notes tell us that these little pieces were among the works that kept his name alive at the start of the twentieth century, not least because they could be used for intimate family chamber performances. Nor do they appear to fulfil the stereotype of the ‘nocturne’ in the sense that the set alternates between slow and fast pieces. The fact that they were written a generation later than the Onslow and Mendelssohn works is reflected in a style that occasionally brings Schumann to mind, most notably in the last of the group which opens with a notably dark and chromatic flourish. Togawa most certainly does not hold back here, and the close microphones capture her 1749 Testore viola in really vivid sound which actually suits these brief and closely argued pieces admirably.
This is a terrific disc. My concern is that issues with generic titles like ‘Romantic Viola Sonatas’ often get overlooked by the record-buying public. I hope this review provides readers with the necessary encouragement to acquire it. It showcases another deeply impressive young violist (I was fortunate to be asked to review Ellen Nisbeth’s superb BIS disc of English repertoire late last year) doing her bit for the instrument. She also has the benefit of a sympathetic and generous accompanist and a warm, if close recording. While the Mendelssohn work is a standout, its companions here are far from makeweights.
– MusicWeb International (Richard Hanlon)