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Elgar: The Dream Of Gerontius Op. 38 / Elder, Groves, Terfel, Coote, Et Al
Halle · Oct 2008CD$32.99 -
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Holst: St Paul's Suite; Warlock: Capriol Suite/ Sir Adrian Boult, Vernon Handley
Lyrita · Nov 2007CD$20.99 -
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Herzogenberg: Piano Quartets, String Trios, Etc / Frolich, Belcanto Strings
CPO · Feb 2009CD$19.99 -
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WONDERFUL
LITTLE GIRL BLUE
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NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL THE 70'S / VARIOUS
As I Love You - The Complete Shirley Bassey 1956-1962
SI
Elgar: The Dream Of Gerontius Op. 38 / Elder, Groves, Terfel, Coote, Et Al
Last year, when I surveyed most of the available recordings of The Dream of Gerontius, I expressed the hope that Mark Elder, as he then was, and his Hallé forces might make a commercial recording of the work. That hope was inspired by the remarkable performance that they had given at the 2005 Henry Wood Promenade Concerts, which, as I commented at the time, made a great impression on me. Having re-listened to it more than once in the off-air recording I made, I now feel it was, quite simply, the finest live account of the work that I ever expect to hear. And now, with almost identical forces, the newly-knighted Sir Mark Elder has made a studio recording. It comes too late for the 150th anniversary of Elgar’s birth but instead, and more fittingly, perhaps, it marks the Hallé’s own 150th birthday, which falls this year.
The inevitable question is: has it been worth the wait for this recording? The answer is an unequivocal "yes".
The American tenor, Paul Groves, reprises the role of Gerontius, as I hoped he would. I hadn’t realised it at the time but we learn from the booklet biography that his performance at the 2005 Proms was his debut in the role, which makes his achievement that night all the more remarkable. His greatest virtue of all, it seems to me, is the clarity and ease of his singing. Every note is hit right in the centre and his voice has an exciting and pleasing ring. The top notes are always true and secure. I followed in the score but, frankly, that was superfluous as far as the text is concerned for Groves’ diction is crystal clear – as, indeed, is that of the other soloists and the choirs.
In Part I Elgar sets his tenor a task that is almost impossible. The singer must try to suggest the frailty of a man on his death bed while, at the same time, he must be able to deliver heroic, dramatic passages, such as ‘Sanctus fortis’. Groves is fully equal to the dramatic sections though sometimes he does sound a little too healthy for a dying man. ‘Sanctus fortis’ is a huge test and it’s one that Groves passes with flying colours. He starts it in ringing, forthright voice but later on, just before cue 48 in the vocal score, he shades off the end of the phrase "Parce mihi, Domine" with great sensitivity. In this aria, and frequently during the performance as a whole, he demonstrates prodigious breath control. One example occurs in ‘Sanctus fortis’, where the whole eight-bar phrase, "For the love of Him alone, Holy Church as his creation" is taken in one span, where most tenors take a breath, quite legitimately, after the comma. Later, the first phrase of ‘Take me away’ is one glorious, seamless whole, as it should be but often isn’t. Returning to ‘Sanctus fortis’, there’s a lovely piangendo at cue 53, when the words "Sanctus fortis" are repeated gently by Gerontius, and then the phrase "O Jesu, help" is truly anguished. Groves’ delivery of the climatic "In Thine own agony", top B flat and all, is magnificent. In all, his performance of this testing keynote aria is very fine.
Part II brings different demands for the tenor soloist. Now he represents the soul of the dead Gerontius. Quite a bit of the music in Part I required the vocal resources of a heldentenor but the opening pages of Part II needs the subtlety of a lieder singer. I’m not sure that Groves is quite successful in these passages. The clear, pleasing singing remains a constant feature but he doesn’t seem to delve as deeply into the words as do some of his distinguished predecessors in the role. As an example, I compared the first solo – "I went to sleep" - as sung on disc by John Mitchinson (for Rattle) and by Anthony Rolfe Johnson (Vernon Handley). Both are so much more responsive to the words and both also sing more quietly. Groves can’t quite match those experienced masters of the role. But he brings his own insights and subtleties to the part and his dialogue with the Angel is intelligently and sensitively sung. Inspired, no doubt, by the presence of an audience, he was a touch more spontaneous at times in the live Proms performance. On the other hand, on that occasion he had to project into a huge acoustic. Here, recording under studio conditions, he can offer a more subtly nuanced reading. The last section of the role, the aria ‘Take me away’, is another hugely demanding solo. Groves’ opening is superb. Later on, perhaps, a little more dynamic contrast would have been welcome but his fervour – not overdone - firm tone and excellent breath control offer ample compensation and the final phrase – "there let me be" – is most affecting.
Alice Coote, who was the Angel in the Proms performance, once again takes the role for the recording. Like Paul Groves she offers much but I found it interesting to compare this performance with her live account. To my ears her voice has a slight edge to it at times in this present performance and her tone doesn’t have quite the same degree of warmth and fullness that she exhibited at the Proms. That said, she is right inside the role, she sings with feeling and commitment and her performance gives a great deal of pleasure. I like, for example, the inflection she brings to the words, "this child of clay". A little later on, she has the right amount of legato and warmth for "A presage falls upon thee." That wonderful passage "There was a mortal" is done with appropriate inwardness – I think she does this passage even better here than in the Proms performance. Her account of the celebrated Farewell is lovely. She brings compassion and dignity to this solo and sends the Soul of Gerontius on his way in a most reassuring way.
There is one change to the line up of soloists that took part in the Prom performance and it’s a significant one. In place of Matthew Best, who sang in 2005, Bryn Terfel sings the two bass solos. This is luxury casting indeed. Terfel is a magisterial Priest. His opening phrases are delivered with all the power and sonority that one would expect from this singer. However, I was delighted to note how, as the aria unfolds, he’s attentive to Elgar’s dynamic markings, which are often quiet, and by so doing he makes the Priest’s words properly prayerful. He’s an imposing Angel of The Agony, singing this dramatic solo quite splendidly. One relishes the sheer amplitude of his voice but, once again, one notes how attentive he is to the dynamic markings – and it makes such a difference. Often I’ve found that a soloist is more suited to one of these two solos than the other but on this occasion Terfel is completely successful in both.
At the Proms performance the Hallé Youth Choir, a mixed-voice choir whose members are aged between twelve and nineteen years, sang the crucial semi chorus parts. Their contribution was important then and I’m delighted to find them similarly involved this time. The involvement of these young singers, for whom this recording must have been a tremendous experience, gives this performance an edge over most of its CD rivals. Benjamin Britten scored a significant coup by using the choir of King’s College, Cambridge as the semi chorus when he recorded Gerontius in 1971 and I wonder if Sir Mark Elder had that precedent in mind. The use of young voices, with their completely different timbre, results in a sharp and very telling contrast and I find the effect is really exciting and atmospheric. The writing for the semi chorus is often extremely exposed but the young Hallé singers rise to the challenge superbly and their fresh, youthful voices add an additional and very welcome dimension to the choral sound. I think their involvement is a major success and I applaud it unreservedly.
Their adult colleagues in the main Hallé Choir are also on top form. They’ve obviously been prepared superbly by their chorus master, James Burton. So, every strand is clear in "Be merciful" and they bring real bite and urgency to "Rescue him." In the Demons’ Chorus their singing is virile and has excellent definition. Perhaps they could have snarled a bit more but it’s an exciting account of the chorus. Equally fine is ‘Praise to the Holiest’ and, towards the end, they are clear, controlled and atmospheric at "Lord, Thou hast been our refuge", never an easy passage to bring off.
The orchestral contribution is, if anything, even finer. From the very start of the Prelude to Part I you sense we’re in for something a bit special. The playing glows here and elsewhere. Dynamics are beautifully observed, the rhythms are well articulated and there’s a consistent feeling that the players are right inside the idiom and playing with belief. Two things are worthy of special comment. Firstly, the engineers have contrived to balance the organ beautifully so that whenever it plays it enriches the textures without being unduly prominent. Secondly, the harp part is hugely important and once again, the instrument is balanced perfectly so that time and again one is aware of its importance yet it never draws unwarranted attention to itself.
But for all the splendour of these contributions the whole is knitted into something much greater than the sum of its parts by Sir Mark Elder. Writing of his Prom performance I suggested that one or two of his tempi were a fraction too fleet. I have no such feelings here. I cannot recall a single bar in the whole score when I felt that the pacing wasn’t just right. Elder has demonstrated in several previous Elgar recordings and performances that he is a master interpreter of this composer. This superb interpretation confirms that judgement in spades. His shaping of the Prelude is masterly and that sets the tone for the whole performance. He is scrupulous in his observance of Elgar’s markings and in many ways that’s the key to success in Elgar performance for the composer was copious in the indications he gave in the score and if a conductor trusts Elgar and follows the markings that’s more than half the battle.
The performance has huge sweep and conviction but there are also many small points that show Elder’s meticulous and perceptive attention to detail. One example comes in the Prelude a couple of bars before cue 17 when the orchestra plays a quiet, stabbing chord, with the gong adding a frisson. Elder places and balances that chord to perfection. Move on to the short, hushed Prelude to Part II, for the strings alone. Elder obtains miraculous, luminous textures from his players and in a mere twenty-six bars he establishes an otherworldly atmosphere, just as Elgar intended. Best of all, at cue 3 the dynamic marking is an incredible pppp. Elder achieves precisely that and the effect is superb. Only one other conductor in my experience has matched this, namely Simon Rattle in his 1986 EMI recording, but to be honest, I think even Rattle is put in the shade at this point. These are very small points in themselves but they catch the ear and show the scrupulous attention to detail that has gone into the preparation of this performance.
Elder, however, is anything but a micro-manager. He is magnificent in the big moments. The end of Part I, after the chorus has joined the bass soloist at "Go, in the name of Angels and Archangels", is brought off expertly. Every strand of Elgar’s many-layered tableau is given its proper weight and the whole passage causes the eyes – or my eyes, at any rate – to prickle, as it should. Even better is the long build up to ‘Praise to the Holiest’. This long passage, after the Angel’s solo "There was a mortal" is challenging, but Elder’s direction is superbly assured. Once again, all the various strands - semi chorus, chorus, orchestra and two soloists - are knitted together perfectly. One thing I admired particularly is the way in which Elder paces the several short sections marked Poco più animato with a vernal eagerness and then observes the decelerations, marked by Elgar, to perfection. Here the ladies of the chorus and the younger ladies in the semi chorus sing with a wide-eyed freshness that is completely appropriate to Angelicals. The whole passage is an unqualified success and Elder builds the tension and the atmosphere so that when the choir erupts at "Praise to the Holiest" it is as if great gold doors have been thrown open to reveal blinding light. Elder handles the ensuing chorus masterfully. The last pages, from cue 94 onwards, are tremendously exciting without recourse to excessive speed as Sakari Oramo does on his CBSO recording (see review). The end of the chorus bids fair to lift the roof off the Bridgewater Hall yet Elder’s forces have more to give and manage to observe the crescendo on the last, long chord. It’s a thrilling moment.
One more example of Elder’s perceptive command of the score and of his forces will suffice. In Part II, starting at cue 114, is the remarkable passage where Gerontius sings, "I go before my Judge", followed by the choir’s muffled entreaties, "Be merciful". Elder distils the most incredible atmosphere in these bars. The music has an awestruck quality that I’ve never heard brought out so well. It sounds as if everyone – Paul Groves, the choirs, the orchestra – is on tenterhooks, scarcely daring to articulate the notes. It’s the most remarkable piece of music making imaginable.
So how can I sum up this recording? I think it’s a remarkable achievement and I have been greatly moved by hearing it. Paul Groves and Alice Coote both deliver very fine performances. I feel that both gave a little more in terms of spontaneity during the Proms performance, inspired by the presence of an audience. On the other hand, under studio conditions they achieve some subtle points that were not possible in the huge arena that is the Royal Albert Hall. Bryn Terfel is a superb addition to the cast. The choirs and orchestra are on inspired form and Sir Mark Elder confirms that he is the finest Elgar interpreter now before the public. Under his inspired leadership the white-hot inspiration of Elgar’s visionary score comes alive.
The performance is captured in excellent, atmospheric sound. The recording doesn’t quite have the punch and presence of the Oramo recording but it’s not far short in terms of immediacy. The forces are splendidly and truthfully balanced and the whole project is a great success for the engineers. The notes are by Michael Kennedy and up to that fine writer’s usual immaculate standard.
It has been well worth the wait for this recording. For over forty years Sir John Barbirolli’s great 1964 recording of Gerontius has dominated the catalogue. I’m sure he would rejoice that, in their 150th anniversary year, his beloved Hallé and their distinguished current Music Director have produced a worthy successor and one that offers irrefutable proof that the Elgar tradition of the Hallé is being maintained in the twenty-first century. Let us hope that Sir Mark will go on to give us new and equally fine recordings of Apostles and Kingdom but even if that doesn’t happen they have done Elgar proud with this distinguished recording which I have found to be a very moving experience.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
DON'T PLAY THAT SONG (MONO)
FEELS LIKE HOME
80S POP EXPLOSION: VOLUME ONE 1980-1984 / VARIOUS
ELLA & OSCAR
Adams: Inuksuit
J. L. ADAMS Inuksuit & • Thad Anderson, Noam Bierstone, Omar Camenartes, Michael Compitello, Nathan Davis, Christopher Demetriou, Rob Esler, Matt Evans, Diego Espinosa, Tim Feeney, Benjamin Fraley, Amy Garapic, Russell Greenberg, Nathaniel Hartman, Phil Hermans, Ayano Kataoka, Kelli Kathman, Danny Lichtenfeld, Ryan Maguire, Shard Mamoun, Krystina Marcoux, Murray Mast, Annie Laurie Mauhs-Pugh, Carson Moody, Benjamin Reimer, Jessica Schmitz, Jeff Stern, Bill Solomon, Christopher Swist, Lisa Tolentino, Alessandro Valiante, Owen Weaver (perc) • CANTALOUPE 21096 (CD: 59: 54, DVD 1:23:00)
& Strange and Sacred Noise video directed by Len Kamerling
This is an event. Inuksuit was written in 2009, and has become John Luther Adams’s signature piece. It is designed to be performed in an open, outdoor space, with a range of performers from nine to 99 (this recording uses 32). It is loose in its construction, with a flow of events that is similar from one performance to another, but whose details and ensemble will vary, depending on choices made in performance, and the characteristics of the environment chosen. Its title comes from the abstract stone structures made across Alaska by the Inuit over the centuries. It uses mostly unpitched percussion (or more precisely instruments of relative pitch) such as drums, cymbals, and gongs, but it also uses harmonic “whirly tubes,” conches, sirens, and glockenspiels and piccolos near the end. But Adams’s primary focus on less pitched, more “noisy” sound sources is a savvy one, as it allows great density and complexity of texture without all the additional harmonic complications that would result from using traditional orchestral instruments (for the record, lessons he’s learned from Inuksuit are being applied in a new work for outdoor wind ensembles).
I heard the piece a couple of years ago in New York at the Park Avenue Armory, a performance whose very venue of course contradicted the original premises of the piece, but was nonetheless magnificently executed. But this recording, made in the forest abutting Vermont’s Guilford Sound, captures better the sense of how the piece interacts with the natural environment (especially its birds, who seem quite unintimidated by all the racket). It also gives us a sense of the space that the piece creates and occupies.
The aspect of the work that impresses me the most is its pacing. Sounds are given their natural time to assert themselves before they are overlapped with others that naturally grow from the earlier ones’ timbres and envelopes. Thus “whirly tubes” eventually transform to conches, and are interrupted by drums whose seemingly random attacks become increasingly dense and patterned, which are joined by cymbals and then gongs, with sirens emerging out of the shimmering soup of upper partials, while the drums grow higher in register and more patterned … until it all crests like a tsunami and we are left with the twittering of birds, both musical and real.
The piece lasts roughly an hour (though the literature on it suggests a longer span, c.75–90 minutes), but with each repeat listening I never find it long. Rather, it is like the weather; one sees a storm front approaching and is mesmerized by the growing darkness, the rising wind, the smell of coming rain. It’s a tribute to Adams’s instinctive feel for the natural that he can pull this off; that it feels so open and spacious, and resists judgment.
The headnote may be a little confusing, but this release is the sort of hybrid to which we’re becoming more used today, and yet it also is presented a little confusingly. There is a standard CD of the piece. But there is also a DVD, which includes 1) the same recording, but with multi-track surround sound ( as well as straight DVD stereo) and a video of a different piece, Strange and Sacred Noise (1997). This work is a sort of prelude to Inuksuit , for percussion quartet in several different monotimbral scorings, and using many of the same process-driven techniques (you can read my review of the Mode 53 release in Fanfare 29:5). It’s led by the amazing Steven Schick, and Adams provides succinct commentaries between each of the eight movements. I particularly love the long third one, inspired by the overlapping accelerandos and decelerandos of Nancarrow and Adams’s contemporary Peter Garland. The performance is filmed in the Alaskan tundra, and is stark and dramatic in the juxtaposition of the players with the vast landscape.
I can’t fully review the surround-sound version because I do not have that configuration. But I can certainly testify that the DVD recording is more detailed, and has more presence and depth. (You also get about a dozen nice slides of the stone sentinels and the Alaskan landscape, that cycle endlessly through the piece.) But the CD sound is just dandy as well.
OK, I must briefly carp: While the piece is divided into five tracks for access-convenience (in both audio versions), Cantaloupe nowhere tells you the timings (even on the page for the disc on their web page). It also takes a bit to realize that the video on the DVD is under “extras.” It would have been nice if the contents had been presented just a little less elliptically. This is a minor kvetch; it’s just a little irritating in what feels to me like the label’s slightly cavalier attitude toward the listener.
But I don’t want this to color my overall enthusiasm for this release. This is a visionary work, in the tradition of Ives, Cage, Harrison, and Tenney—all acknowledged ancestor-mentors of the composer. Adams is deeply tuned into the eco-sensibility of the era in a humane, unpretentious, yet grand way. Indeed, I could express it more simply by saying that his art is grand but not grandiose. Want List for the coming year.
FANFARE: Robert Carl
Holst: St Paul's Suite; Warlock: Capriol Suite/ Sir Adrian Boult, Vernon Handley
Michael BALFE (1808-1870)
The Bohemian Girl: Galop (1843) [1:26]
Philharmonia Orchestra/Nicholas Braithwaite
Sir Edward ELGAR (1857-1934)
Variations on an Original Theme ‘Enigma’ Op. 36: X. Dorabella (1899) [2:41]
Pomp and Circumstance March No. 5 in C Op. 39 (1930) [5:41]
New Philharmonia Orchestra/Andrew Davis
Frederick DELIUS (1862-1934)
A Village Romeo and Juliet: The Walk to the Paradise Garden (1905) [10:49]
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Myer Fredman
Percy GRAINGER (1882-1961)
Shepherd’s Hey; The Immovable Do (1908-13; 1933-42) [2:11; 5:04]
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Nicholas Braithwaite
Sir Hamilton HARTY (1879-1941)
An Irish Symphony: The Fair-Day (1904) [3:01]
New Philharmonia Orchestra/Vernon Handley
Peter WARLOCK (1894-1930)
Capriol, Suite for full orchestra (1926-28) [9:47]
London Symphony Orchestra/Nicholas Braithwaite
Lord BERNERS (1883-1950)
The Triumph of Neptune: Hornpipe (1926) [1:50]
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Nicholas Braithwaite
Gustav HOLST (1874-1934)
St. Paul’s Suite for strings Op. 29 No. 2 (1913) [13:28]
English Chamber Orchestra/Imogen Holst
Ralph VAUGHAN WILLIAMS (1872-1958)
Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis (1910) [16:08]
rec. Jan 1979, Kingsway Hall (Balfe); Jan 1974, Walthamstow Assembly Hall (Elgar); Jan 1970, Walthamstow Assembly Hall (Delius); Aug 1978, Kingsway Hall (Grainger; Berners); April 1976, Kingsway Hall (Harty); Sept 1978, Watford Town Hall (Warlock); Jan 1968, Walthamstow Assembly Hall (RVW)
R E V I E W:
A fine introduction to Musical Britain
When I first saw the advert for this CD I assumed that it was the ‘sweepings up’ from the floor of the Lyrita studios: it was all the bits and pieces from their vinyl pressings that could not find a home elsewhere. Yet two things made me modify that view. Firstly I know that there is a vast amount of material awaiting re-release (the mono recordings of Jacob, White, Ireland and Wordsworth, for example) and secondly, as I listened to this CD I realised that it made a fine introduction to Musical Britain. I remember as a child books called the ‘Boy’s Guide to’ … Field-craft, Trains, Racing Cars et al. Perhaps this, in a more PC age, could be referred to as the "Individual’s Guide to British Music"?
The CD opens with a piece that was written when Great Britain was a ‘land without music.’ The Galop is probably the most famous excerpt from Michael Balfe’s best known opera: The Bohemian Girl. And of course it was once a Tommy Beecham ‘Lollipop’. Perhaps Balfe’s twenty-nine operas do not signify in the early 21st century when compared to G&S, Tippett or Benjamin Britten, but in his day he was a seriously popular composer. And Ireland – Balfe was born in Dublin - was at that time part of the United Kingdom!
I usually baulk at excerpting from Elgar’s Enigma Variations. My exception is the annual outing of Nimrod at the Cenotaph: I can forgive anything in those circumstances. So I suppose I am not really happy about one short variation being given here. Yet here it is - Dorabella which follows on from Nimrod and is a complete change of tone, mood and emotion. We hear the ‘stammering lightness’ and ‘merry chatter’ of Elgar’s helper and admired Dora Penny. It is a lovely piece that actually does stand alone … just about … although I feel that it is much more telling and effective following that great Beethovenian variation in the complete work.
And how often do we hear the P&C March No.5? Even enthusiasts of ‘Grunge’ cannot have avoided ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ in their lives’ journey. But how many know the other four (five)? I guess most people over the age of thirty-five will recall No. 4 in G being played as the recessional at the Prince and Princess of Wales’s wedding. The rest are little known and rarely heard. But please note that this late - it was composed four years before Elgar’s death - march is rather good. And the interesting thing is that most of us come to it afresh. It has not accrued the baggage - good, bad and indifferent - of being an alternative National Anthem played at the Proms.
I am not an opera fan, but I have always loved The Walk to Paradise Garden by Fred Delius. I know the opera A Village Romeo and Juliet and realise that it has a tragic context in that work. However, I got to know the piece on an old Beecham release of Delius orchestral works on Decca Eclipse and have had my own programme for this work ever since! So I suggest that listeners dump the libretto and see this piece as a nature poem – descriptive of whatever landscape or mindscape moves them most.
Percy Grainger is a rare personality. He wrote a vast amount of music that is little played these days. I am not a fan of his, yet I do appreciate that he was probably a wayward genius. And a few of his works do have the capacity to move me: most I find entertaining. The majority of listeners will know his ubiquitous Country Gardens which was arranged for just about every instrumental combination possible. Yet Shepherd’s Hey and the Immovable Do presented here deserve greater popularity. The latter piece was inspired by a leaking harmonium which continually sounded a ‘high C’ throughout the performance of whatever Grainger was playing. Shepherd’s Hey is based on the folk tune ‘The Keel Row’. Incidentally, the score was dedicated to Edvard Grieg. Both miniatures are worthy additions to the repertoire and would make excellent encores - if given the chance.
Our musical exploration moves back to Ireland. This time it is the second movement of Sir Hamilton Harty’s fine Irish Symphony – subtitled The Fair-Day. Most people will associate Harty with the Hallé Orchestra which he conducted between 1920 and 1933. Yet he was also an accomplished composer who wrote not only the present work but a wonderful piano concerto, a violin concerto and a number of other excellent pieces. Fortunately, most of these were released on Chandos a number of years ago and are still available. Additionally, Naxos has contributed their recordings of the Symphony and the Piano Concerto. Harty is a composer well worth investigating. The present piece is a fine evocation of a ‘Fair Day’ in Ireland that must have been familiar to the composer as a young man. Look out for the fiddler tuning up and the fine reel!
Everyone knows that Peter Warlock was a pseudonym. His real name was Philip Heseltine. He took the name of Warlock after some involvement with occult mysteries after time spent in Ireland during the Great War. More often noted for his superb songs, Warlock composed a mere handful of works for orchestral forces – including An Old Song, the Serenade for Frederick Delius and the Capriol Suite. Best known in its string orchestra incarnation, this latter work was originally given as a piano duet. Latterly it was arranged for full orchestra – this is the version we hear on this CD. The Suite is based on tunes found in an antique dissertation called ‘Orchesography’ which was supposedly penned by a certain ‘Capriol’. The programme notes inform us that the Suite was rejected by a number of publishers: this is hard to imagine since we now regard the work as one of the minor masterpieces of 20th century music. Apparently Warlock sold the work for a mere 25 guineas!
Lord Berners’ real name is much more impressive – Gerald Hugh Tyrwhitt-Wilson: it sounds as if it were straight out of a P.G. Wodehouse novel. He was an artist and a ballet producer whose day-job appeared to be that of a diplomat. Moving in the rarefied atmosphere of the Sitwells it is not surprising that he was an eccentric. The Triumphs of Neptune was conceived by Sacheverell and eventually became a successful feature for the Ballets Russes. The Hornpipe does not press on to the limits of musical invention, but it is attractive and does justice to its nautical origins. It is well worth discovering other music by this fascinating, if somewhat odd, composer.
Gustav Holst’s St Paul’s Suite surely needs no introduction or recommendation to readers of these pages. Yet sometimes it is easy to forget that this work comes from the same pen as The Planets. The work is conducted here by the composer’s daughter Imogen: to my ear it is one of the best recordings of this work in the repertoire. It is a Suite that must be listened to in its entirety and not excerpted.
The last piece is a major masterpiece. Along with Tippett’s Double Concerto and Elgar’s Introduction and Allegro it is one of the most important essays in string writing in British musical literature. The Tallis Fantasia is a work that seems to gather up the whole tradition of England – its landscape, its literature and its religion. It is impossible to listen to this work without being aware of the whole sweep of history – both musical and otherwise. In one sense it is a timeless work, yet in another it is as much a part of twentieth century music as Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue or Berg’s Violin Concerto. The Fantasia is a visionary score which marked its composer out as a major figure in the British musical scene.
Most cognoscenti of British music will have all these works in their CD collections. This release is a bit of a pot-pourri. Yet consider this. It is good to take the opportunity of listening to a variety of pieces played end to end - now and again; it reminds us of our whole musical heritage. And lastly if you know anyone who is edging towards an appreciation of the native music of the British Isles – this is the present for them. In either case – Buy it!
-- John France, MusicWeb International
The Land Where the Good Songs Go / Cazalet, McNair
POP VOCAL Slyvia McNair; Hal Cazalet; Steven Blier, piano. THE LAND WHERE THE GOOD SONGS GO - THE LYRICS OF P.G. WOODHOUSETracks: Oh, Gee! Oh, Joy!; Tell Me All Your Troubles, Cutie; You'r The Top; Rolled Into One; Sir Galahad; The Land Where The GoodSongs Go; If I Ever Lost You; Go Little Boat; You Can't Make Love By Wireless; Bill; You Never Knew About Me; Shimmy With Me; Non-Stop Dancing; My Castle In The Air; The Enchanted Train; Anything Goes.
LADY SINGS THE BLUES
NOW YEARBOOK EXTRA 1972 / VARIOUS
Live at the Berlin Philharmonie 1969 / Sarah Vaughan
Never before entirely released concert recorded on 9 November 1969 at the Berlin Philharmonie. These emotionally intense concerts are all the more remarkable because of the artists high wire act, a balance constantly maintained throughout between her professional savoir faire (a vocal technique at the apex of her art and her interpretive skills) and her emotional abandonment to the moment as she gives her all. The entire performance, with Vaughan pouring out her heart, seems in hindsight at once perfectly timeless in terms of its formal classicism yet thoroughly in the fleeting moment. At the end of the day, these recordings are invaluable. As Vaughan explores the most lyrical, emotional aspects of her art, she overwhelms her listeners as she bares her soul. Her virtuosity in using her imagination to deploy all her technical skills and the extraordinary range of her tessitura are restrained rather than ostentatious. She literally reaches the stars and gives us a unique lesson in music as a form of the art of living.
CONTENTS:
Herzogenberg: Piano Quartets, String Trios, Etc / Frolich, Belcanto Strings
HERZOGENBERG Piano Quartets: in e, op. 75; in B?, op. 95 . String Trios: in A, op. 27/1; in F, op. 27/2. Legends • Belcanto Strings; Andreas Frölich (pn) • cpo 777 438 (2 CDs: 125: 33)
This is a repackaging in a budget priced twofer of previously released singles, both of which have already been reviewed in these pages. Raymond Tuttle covered the first of these two discs containing the E-Minor Piano Quartet and the A-Major String Trio in 25:2. The second disc, containing the B?-Major Piano Quartet, the F-Major String Trio, and the Legends for cello and piano, received two reviews, one by William Zagorski and another by Martin Anderson, both in 24:4. I’ve little to add to their conclusions.
By now it is well known that Heinrich von Herzogenberg (1843–1900) practically worshipped Brahms. But it wasn’t enough for him to try to imitate the elder composer’s style; he ended up marrying the woman that Brahms had proposed marriage to and then reneged on. Modern psychology might call it a classic case of transference: in marrying Elisabet von Stockhausen, was Herzogenberg subconsciously marrying Brahms, or at least getting as emotionally close to him as possible? Out of deference to Elisabet, Brahms tolerated Herzogenberg’s fawning, remaining as cordial towards him as he could; but if one reads The Herzogenberg Correspondence , edited by Max Kalbeck, it’s telling that Brahms speaks to Herzogenberg in fairly formal and neutral, if not a bit distanced, language, and more often than not addresses his letters to both Herzogenberg and Elisabet as husband and wife rather than to Herzogenberg individually.
Despite the interpersonal dynamics at work in this somewhat odd three-way relationship, Herzogenberg did manage to sustain an independent career of his own. Moving to Leipzig in 1874, he teamed up with Bach scholar Philipp Spitta to establish the Leipzig Bach Verein; and during his 10-year stewardship of the institution he tutored a number of students, one of whom was Ethel Smyth. He declined, however, to tutor Vaughan Williams, advising him instead to study with Max Bruch. Herzogenberg’s own catalog of works is fairly impressive in numbers if not in consistent quality. He wrote eight symphonies, numerous choral works, including a requiem and an oratorio, The Birth of Christ , which has enjoyed some currency, and a great deal of chamber music, of which we have five examples on these discs.
There isn’t much to say beyond what Anderson, Tuttle, and Zagorski already said in their aforementioned reviews. After “a Brahmsian wave washed over him,” Tuttle called the E-Minor Piano Quartet, written in response to Elisabet’s premature death in 1892, “one of the best works Brahms never wrote.” Its dark, brooding, and passionate first movement does indeed echo some of Brahms’s earlier chamber works with piano, but a close listening reveals Herzogenberg’s lesser grasp of formal structure and the tightly knit motivic relationships that inform Brahms’s works.
Zagorski found the B?-Major Piano Quartet almost more Brahmsian than Brahms, opining that not only could Brahms have written it, but that “it would have to be Brahms on a particularly good day.” Anderson seems to have reached the same conclusion, calling the piece “scarcely less engaging than Brahms’s own essays in the genre.” In this I would agree. This was to be Herzogenberg’s last chamber work, and so he had plenty of time and practice to perfect his carbon copying.
In the two string trios, Herzogenberg was on his own turf. Apparently, the medium held no interest for Brahms, who, to the best of my knowledge, wrote nothing for this combination of instruments. The trios are not among Herzogenberg’s earliest works; he was 36 when he wrote them in 1879. As I listened to the first of them in F Major, I tried to relate it to something I’d heard before, something I was familiar with, but a point of reference kept eluding me until I re-read Tuttle’s review. He cited Grieg, pointing to “the third movement’s central fiddle tune.” Perhaps it was just the power of suggestion, but suddenly I did begin to hear certain resemblances to some of Grieg’s orchestral writing for strings.
Legends , alternately for viola or cello and piano, was written in 1888 following a lengthy illness during which Herzogenberg had been bedridden and then only able to venture out in a wheelchair. Dedicated to Joseph Joachim, the work is in three movements, and could easily be taken to be a viola or cello sonata. It’s of an absolutely exquisite beauty, especially its central Moderato movement, and it sounds nothing like Brahms. With its sweeping arpeggios in the piano, it’s more reminiscent of Schumann, and its singing melodiousness calls to mind Saint-Saëns.
Cpo and the Belcanto Strings (Wolfgang Schröder, violin; Daniel Raiskin, viola; and Ramon Jaffé, cello), joined by pianist Andreas Frölich in the piano quartets, currently seem to have a lock on this corner of Herzogenberg’s output. It therefore pleases me to be able to report that they make excellent advocates for Herzogenberg and his music. The playing is technically polished throughout, and performances are sensitive and responsive to these scores’ many felicities and admirable qualities.
For those of you who love Romantic chamber music and have not previously acquired these discs as singles, I would strongly encourage you to add this two-disc set to your collection.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
American Classics - Romeo Cascarino
CASCARINO Pygmalion. Portrait of Galatea. Blades of Grass. 1 Prospice. Meditation and Elegy. The Acadian Land • JoAnn Falletta, cond; Geoffrey Deemer (Eh); Philadelphia Philharmonia • NAXOS 8.559266 (76:02)
Here we go again. A good man spends his life writing music for the love of it, putting bread on the table by teaching harmony and counterpoint at a small local institution. During his lifetime, he gets a few performances, writes a bassoon sonata that’s a modest hit among bassoonists, and then spends 25 years writing an opera, which gets two performances. The good man dies at 80, unknown outside of local musical circles. A few years after his death, his music is finally recorded.
Romeo Cascarino was a fine but almost completely unknown midcentury American composer in the great Copland-Barber-Bernstein tradition who wrote delicious music obviously meant to be enjoyed rather than edified. His inspirations may be a little musty (Greek mythology, 19th-century romantic poetry) but they provide ample raw material for rich music that runs the emotional gamut from, say, C to V. (The wildest extremes are absent from his gracious music.) He’s not Beethoven, but by not trying to be profound, he manages to avoid writing the kind of pedantic, grey music that makes the music of many midcentury Americans more dutiful than beautiful. The music on this CD is beautiful from beginning to end, some of it exceptionally so. Its clarity, wit, and unabashed lyricism put me in mind of Francis Poulenc, although the sound is more 1950s Leonard Bernstein (including the more symphonic theater music), with a splash of the more overt populism of some Copland or, say, Morton Gould. Some of it is so tasty I found myself listening to it two or three times in one sitting.
Tom DiNardo’s brisk, informative notes include a rather concise biography of Cascarino in which even the high points are modest. Born in Philadelphia (in the venerable Italian community of “South Philly”), he was an autodidact. At 17, he “was invited to Tanglewood after Aaron Copland looked at some of his early works.” (Just looked at? This is where the standard issue composer bio says “was impressed by.”) In 1945, while still in the army, he won a prize in the George Gershwin Memorial Contest. (I assume that had it been first prize, it would have been so mentioned.) This was a small contest sponsored by two Jewish organizations, although later winners included Peter Mennin and Harold Shapero. A 1947 Bassoon Sonata for (hometown) Philadelphia Orchestra bassoonist Sol Schoenbach once circulated on a Columbia recording, and he received two Guggenheim Fellowships. He refused commercial music work, and remained loyal to a low-paying local college despite having better offers. His first orchestral score, the ballet Prospice —which, along with everything else on this CD except for Pygmalion , is recorded here for the first time—was only ever performed in a two-piano arrangement. The later Pygmalion was “intended” for a ballet, with a libretto that “would appeal to a choreographer like Anthony Tudor, whom [Cascarino] greatly admired.” This reads like a composer whose dreams exceeded his grasp. Cascarino was evidently not naive about this, however; as DiNardo points out, Cascarino described himself as “an idealist, which for me is a realist who’s learned what to live for.” But the whole story seems rather sad.
Well, happily both pieces are much, much better works than their performance history intimates. Why any conductor who saw this appealing, lively, vividly drawn, and wonderfully scored music would not want to perform it is beyond me. Pygmalion is, indeed, the pick of the litter, as its prior recording suggests, although it appears to have been an extremely modest recording from the 1950s or 1960s, based on a fuzzy photo of its cover that I found somewhere in the musty corners of the Internet. No performers were indicated. The rich harmony, tidy orchestration, and stateliness of this music remind me of a John Ireland work. Portrait of Galatea is intended to be more impressionistic, and it is more loosely constructed and not as memorable. Prospice is based on a stiffly proud Browning poem, and is appropriately inspirational.
Cascarino was also commissioned by what DiNardo terms the “Benjamin Tranquil Music Project” which elsewhere is termed the Benjamin Award for Tranquil Music. In either version, it sounds like a parody, but the resulting work, The Acadian Land (based on Longfellow) is, for me, the other high point of this CD. It holds up well after many playings.
Alas, there’s nothing from Cascarino’s magnum opus , the opera William Penn, based on the life of the Quaker statesman who established Pennsylvania and founded Philadelphia. Cascarino worked on this from 1950 until 1975, and it was finally staged for two performances at the venerable Academy of Music, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Tom DiNardo (who doesn’t credit himself in his booklet notes). Evidently, this CD, too, owes its existence in part to DiNardo’s efforts. (Listed as executive producer, he’s also the music critic for Philly’s “second” newspaper, which doesn’t give him as much space as he deserves.)
This CD makes me want to hear more of Cascarino’s music. According to DiNardo, the composer’s output is small. His dates are 1922–2002, but the music on this CD is mainly for orchestra or chamber orchestra, and spans the years 1945–1960. (The Meditation and Elegy was written for piano in his teens and transcribed for string orchestra in 2000 by one of his pupils.) Did he write any other orchestral music after 1960, or did the opera take up all his energy? Did he write anything after completing the opera in 1975? Is there any chamber music besides the Bassoon Sonata? I wish the booklet notes provided more information. And there’s no further information online. I guess I’ll just have to check out Cascarino’s childhood haunt (and mine), the music division of the Free Library of Philadelphia, whose Fleisher Collection is the world’s largest orchestral lending library and holds Cascarino’s scores. Regional orchestra conductors: hint hint.
It remains only to praise enterprising conductor JoAnn Falletta for shaping immaculate performances. The orchestra of record is the “Philadelphia Philharmonia” which, as a lifelong Philadelphian, I’d never heard of until I read the note in the booklet that reveals its secret identity as the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia, a venerable local organization not to be confused with the Philadelphia Virtuosi Chamber Orchestra (which also has done a couple of CDs for Naxos) or the late Philadelphia Chamber Symphony (which did some lovely LPs for RCA in the 1960s). Even though it’s a major part of Philadelphia’s musical life, the COP has evidently never recorded under its own name. Why they didn’t take credit for this CD is beyond me. Except for a couple of minor trumpet slips, the playing is quite fine. The recorded sound is decent, with good orchestral balances. And thank you to Naxos for making it possible for this lovely music to be heard by millions worldwide, even if the composer didn’t live to see it happen.
FANFARE: Eric J. Bruskin
CHOPIN ETUDES
GOOD FRIDAY BLUES (BLUE NOTE TONE POET SERIES)
AMATEUR GIRLFRIENDS GO PROSKIRT AGENTS
NARUTO SYMPHONIC EXPERIENCE - O.S.T.
Shades of Mourning
Saint-Saëns: Piano Concertos Nos. 1 & 2 / Kantorow, Tapiola Sinfonietta
In 2019, Alexandre and Jean-Jacques Kantorow’s recording of the last three piano concertos by Camille Saint-Saëns earned the highest praise around the world, including a Diapason d’or de l’année, Editor’s Choice in Gramophone and top marks and recommendations from the leading German web sites Klassik Heute and Klassik.com. The Kantorows’ orchestra of choice was the Finnish ensemble Tapiola Sinfonietta, and they have now returned to Helsinki to record not only Saint-Saëns’ first two concertos, but all of the remaining works for piano and orchestra.
Presented on this amply filled disc, the program spans 33 years, the earliest work being Concerto No. 1, regarded as the first significant French piano concerto and written by a 23-year old composer. Ten years later, in 1868, Saint-Saëns composed the Concerto in G minor, a work which at first met with consternation although Liszt – who was present at the first performance – thoroughly approved of it. The work, which begins with the soloist playing what resembles the improvisations of an organist, soon became popular however, and remains one of Saint-Saëns’ best-known works. The shorter pieces which make up the rest of the program were written between 1884 and 1891, and could be said to reveal different aspects of the composer: Wedding Cake was written as a wedding present to a close friend, in Rhapsodie d’Auvergne Saint-Saeëns explored French folk music, while Africa is a piece of pure Orientalism, reflecting his lasting affection for North Africa.
REVIEWS:
What amazed me about young Alexandre Kantorow’s performance was the intensity of the opening cadenza and the subsequent tutti passages where it’s hard to imagine that it’s a chamber orchestra we’re hearing! His treatment of the soloist’s role is always powerful but never lapses into brashness.
All the fill-ups are lovely, but for me the most gorgeous was the Wedding Cake Caprice. The performances have been brilliantly captured and are presented in SACD format.
-- Limelight
The prospect of a recording of any of Saint-Saëns’s works for piano and orchestra is always a delightful one. You know you are in for an hour or more of music that lifts the spirits with its joie de vivre and inexhaustible supply of memorable ideas. The prospect is enhanced, on this occasion, by the same soloist, orchestra and conductor who gave us Concertos Nos 3, 4 and 5 back in the long-ago pre-pandemic days...
There is a palpable exuberance and joy in the way these works come across, none more so in the four concertante works for piano and orchestra, the effervescent Wedding Cake caprice, Rhapsodie d’Auvergne (an early use of French folk song, years ahead of d’Indy and Canteloube), Allegro appassionato (not the better-known work for cello with the same title) and Africa (who else was using North African folk music at this time?).
The album also includes the woefully neglected Piano Concerto No 1, with its opening horn call reminding us of the end of Chopin’s Second Piano Concerto. If the rousing finale doesn’t hook you, then try the haunting slow movement with its prescient passages not only of its successor but of the kind of impressionistic writing that anticipates Ravel by half a century.
It’s a terrific programme – unique for a single disc, so far as I know – clocking in at 85 minutes, and another feather in the cap of the gifted soloist and his partners. The recording offers an exemplary balance between piano and orchestra in a realistic acoustic[.]
-- Gramophone