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Human Misery, Human Love - Beethoven: Symphony No 9 / Nagano, Montreal Symphony
Sony Masterworks · Apr 2012CD$11.98 -
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SaleKuhlau: Complete Sonatas for Flute and Piano / Tozzetti, Caturelli
Brilliant Classics · Aug 2021CD$17.99$8.99 -
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Respighi: Violin Sonatas / Fabio Paggioro, Massimiliano Ferrati
Brilliant Classics · Jan 2014CD$13.99 -
SaleBrahms & Mahler: Piano Quartets / Barakhovsky, Zemtsov, Schmidt, Nebolsin
Naxos · Feb 2017CD$19.99$13.99 -
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Reger: Piano Concerto Op 114; Bach/Busoni: Piano Concerto Bwv 1052 / Korstick, Schirmer, Et Al
CPO · Apr 2009CD$18.99 -
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The Flute at the Court of Frederick the Great / Jean-Pierre Rampal
CBS Masterworks · May 2009CD$17.99 -
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New Colombian Music for Saxophone Quartet
Mode Records
CD
$18.99
Apr 03, 2026
Since their founding in 2007, the Madrid-based ensemble Sigma Project has premiered more than 85 works and introduced hundreds more to audiences from Teatro alla Scala in Milan to Teatro Colón in Buenos Aires. Their commitment to commissioning new works is the saxophone quartet's parallel to the Kronos Quartet. Juan Antonio Cuéllar's Cuatro Artificios is a four-movement work that follows the classical structure of the quartet or symphony (Allegro-Adagio-Scherzo-Allegro Finale) and draws on both Baroque and early 20th-century techniques. Each movement is an artificio: a skillful and inventive creation. From Fanfarrias (Fanfares) and it's rhythmic ostinatos and canon to Tocatas (Tocattas), a dizzying moto continuo culminating in an explosive finale. Carolina Noguera Palau's Cánticos del Azar utilizes extended techniques to evoke the chirimías caucanas (flute-led ensembles from Cauca), while also introducing dance-like rhythmic patterns that evoke Cali's vibrant dance culture, emphasized by expressive markings in the score such as con sabor (with spice), sonero (in the style of son music), or movido (swinging). The title of Rodolfo Acosta's Pidiendo agua, traían leña (Asking for water, they brought firewood) is drawn from The First New Chronicle and Good Government, a 1615 Peruvian chronicle describing how chapetones (newly arrived Spaniards) and Indigenous Peruvians were often caught in linguistic misunderstandings. The piece's form is conceived as a series of unrelated episodes that challenge monothematic development. Instead, the episodes function as what Acosta calls "single isles" that one must "visit" without pretending to understand them through the same logic. They are meant to be grasped in their uniqueness. The collaboration between the Spanish ensemble Sigma Project and the Colombian composers featured on this album evokes the narrative behind the work. This collaboration is a 21st-century update of the encounter between the Spanish and the Abya Yala people (the Americas)-an encounter rooted not in conquest, but in mutual recognition and respect for difference.
Tchaikovsky: Symphony No 5; Beethoven / Leinsdorf
ICA Classics
DVD
$20.99
$26.99
Save 20%
Feb 28, 2012
Leinsdorf belatedly enters the select list of the greatest Tchaikovsky performances on record.
The previous Leinsdorf offering in this series had a very good-to-fine Schubert 9, an even finer Schumann 4 and a wonderful Wagner “Good Friday Music”. However much you enjoyed it, I should think that only those present in the Boston Symphony Hall on 15 April 1969 could be fully prepared for the impact of the present resuscitation.
The first pleasant surprise that the material is in colour, even if definition is not up to modern standards. The second is that Leinsdorf, who was usually seen – before and after 1969 – without a baton and said in a late interview that he felt freer to mould the music expressively with just his hands – marches on with a longish baton and seems accustomed to wielding it. Richard Dyer, whose eye-witness notes continue to be such a valuable feature of this series, makes no mention of this. It would be interesting to know more about Leinsdorf’s use and non-use of the baton.
But all this pales before the fact that this sometimes austere and pedantic conductor is on truly inspired and inspiring form, conducting with total involvement. This doesn’t mean that it’s all fast and loud: the Beethoven goes at a good but not excessive pace and there is plenty of expressive weight to the introduction. The wind phrases in the allegro are beautifully turned and the coda truly blazes.
Leinsdorf’s Beethoven is a known factor. If it wasn’t always this good, I suppose it doesn’t need a lot of imagination to see that, on the right day, it could be. But his Tchaikovsky?
Leinsdorf only recorded one Tchaikovsky Symphony commercially, the Sixth with the Los Angeles Philharmonic some years before his Boston appointment. I’ve never heard this, nor have I ever seen it spoken of with bated breath. Whereas the internet grapevine has been shouting excitedly about this Fifth ever since somebody posted an incomplete sound-only version, as Richard Dyer relates. I can well understand those internet commentators who say they’ll never listen to their other discs of the work now this is available, or one who actually heard it at the time and has been unable to find a performance to match it – not even Mravinsky – ever since.
On the face of it, Leinsdorf doesn’t “do” anything particular with the music. The introduction is brooding but also purposeful – he notes that it is “andante” not “adagio” and one senses a great latent power behind waiting to be unleashed. His “Allegro con anima” does not sidle in slowly, gaining speed later, he sets an up-front tempo straight away. It will sound very fast to some listeners. But this is his tempo, so the first crescendo is not accompanied by an accelerando and the hammering passages go at about the “normal” speed. Nor does he deviate from this tempo, except where Tchaikovsky actually requests a slower pace for the second subject. Leinsdorf plays this with great tenderness and free rubato, even risking some less precise ensemble. On paper, this might sound like one of Leinsdorf’s dogmatic demonstrations, and if he had subsequently taken the performance into the studio I fear it might have turned into just that. I must emphasize that here everything is white-hot and convinces as a free expression of emotions.
So, too, does the slow movement. The tempo is pretty steady but there is a sense of free-soaring passion which completely effaces any sense of the four-square. The waltz has an elegance which does not prevent exploitation of its darker moments while the finale carries all before it. The coda has an air of crude triumph presaging Mahler. Audience reaction is rightly rapturous and even Leinsdorf manages some smiles. It looks as though the Bostonians learnt to love Leinsdorf just as he was on his way out.
I haven’t ventured to compare this with other favourites. Once the initial impact has worn off I cannot believe that performance by such as Mravinsky or Markevich, which have provided inspiration to generations (and to me) can be wholly and eternally eclipsed. The case still remains for a cooler, more brooding approach, notably provided – in very primitive sound – by Landon Ronald. At the opposite extreme, the capacity of late Celibidache to bend your internal clock and suspend disbelief at his time-dilations is not to be dismissed either. What I am quite sure of is that Leinsdorf has belatedly entered the select list of the greatest Tchaikovsky performances on record.
Back to batonless Leinsdorf in black and white for the Mozart bonus. He puts on an incredibly autocratic face with black looks all round. Those used to modern Mozart will gasp at the fullness of the first attack, yet there is lilt as well as majesty, and delicacy later on, Leinsdorf shaping the music with crisp finger-movements.
An interesting filler, perhaps. But don’t miss the Tchaikovsky on any account.
-- Christopher Howell, MusicWeb International
LEINSDORF CONDUCTS BEETHOVEN AND TCHAIKOVSKY
Ludwig van Beethoven: Egmont, Op. 84: Overture
Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64
Boston Symphony Orchestra
Erich Leinsdorf, conductor
Recorded at Symphony Hall, Boston, 15 April 1969
Bonus:
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Serenade No. 9 in D major, K. 320, "Posthorn": II. Menuetto: Allegretto
Recorded at Sanders Theatre, Harvard University, 15 January 1963
Picture format: NTSC 4:3
Sound format: Enhanced Mono
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Booklet notes: English, French, German
Running time: 57 mins
No. of DVDs: 1
The previous Leinsdorf offering in this series had a very good-to-fine Schubert 9, an even finer Schumann 4 and a wonderful Wagner “Good Friday Music”. However much you enjoyed it, I should think that only those present in the Boston Symphony Hall on 15 April 1969 could be fully prepared for the impact of the present resuscitation.
The first pleasant surprise that the material is in colour, even if definition is not up to modern standards. The second is that Leinsdorf, who was usually seen – before and after 1969 – without a baton and said in a late interview that he felt freer to mould the music expressively with just his hands – marches on with a longish baton and seems accustomed to wielding it. Richard Dyer, whose eye-witness notes continue to be such a valuable feature of this series, makes no mention of this. It would be interesting to know more about Leinsdorf’s use and non-use of the baton.
But all this pales before the fact that this sometimes austere and pedantic conductor is on truly inspired and inspiring form, conducting with total involvement. This doesn’t mean that it’s all fast and loud: the Beethoven goes at a good but not excessive pace and there is plenty of expressive weight to the introduction. The wind phrases in the allegro are beautifully turned and the coda truly blazes.
Leinsdorf’s Beethoven is a known factor. If it wasn’t always this good, I suppose it doesn’t need a lot of imagination to see that, on the right day, it could be. But his Tchaikovsky?
Leinsdorf only recorded one Tchaikovsky Symphony commercially, the Sixth with the Los Angeles Philharmonic some years before his Boston appointment. I’ve never heard this, nor have I ever seen it spoken of with bated breath. Whereas the internet grapevine has been shouting excitedly about this Fifth ever since somebody posted an incomplete sound-only version, as Richard Dyer relates. I can well understand those internet commentators who say they’ll never listen to their other discs of the work now this is available, or one who actually heard it at the time and has been unable to find a performance to match it – not even Mravinsky – ever since.
On the face of it, Leinsdorf doesn’t “do” anything particular with the music. The introduction is brooding but also purposeful – he notes that it is “andante” not “adagio” and one senses a great latent power behind waiting to be unleashed. His “Allegro con anima” does not sidle in slowly, gaining speed later, he sets an up-front tempo straight away. It will sound very fast to some listeners. But this is his tempo, so the first crescendo is not accompanied by an accelerando and the hammering passages go at about the “normal” speed. Nor does he deviate from this tempo, except where Tchaikovsky actually requests a slower pace for the second subject. Leinsdorf plays this with great tenderness and free rubato, even risking some less precise ensemble. On paper, this might sound like one of Leinsdorf’s dogmatic demonstrations, and if he had subsequently taken the performance into the studio I fear it might have turned into just that. I must emphasize that here everything is white-hot and convinces as a free expression of emotions.
So, too, does the slow movement. The tempo is pretty steady but there is a sense of free-soaring passion which completely effaces any sense of the four-square. The waltz has an elegance which does not prevent exploitation of its darker moments while the finale carries all before it. The coda has an air of crude triumph presaging Mahler. Audience reaction is rightly rapturous and even Leinsdorf manages some smiles. It looks as though the Bostonians learnt to love Leinsdorf just as he was on his way out.
I haven’t ventured to compare this with other favourites. Once the initial impact has worn off I cannot believe that performance by such as Mravinsky or Markevich, which have provided inspiration to generations (and to me) can be wholly and eternally eclipsed. The case still remains for a cooler, more brooding approach, notably provided – in very primitive sound – by Landon Ronald. At the opposite extreme, the capacity of late Celibidache to bend your internal clock and suspend disbelief at his time-dilations is not to be dismissed either. What I am quite sure of is that Leinsdorf has belatedly entered the select list of the greatest Tchaikovsky performances on record.
Back to batonless Leinsdorf in black and white for the Mozart bonus. He puts on an incredibly autocratic face with black looks all round. Those used to modern Mozart will gasp at the fullness of the first attack, yet there is lilt as well as majesty, and delicacy later on, Leinsdorf shaping the music with crisp finger-movements.
An interesting filler, perhaps. But don’t miss the Tchaikovsky on any account.
-- Christopher Howell, MusicWeb International
LEINSDORF CONDUCTS BEETHOVEN AND TCHAIKOVSKY
Ludwig van Beethoven: Egmont, Op. 84: Overture
Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64
Boston Symphony Orchestra
Erich Leinsdorf, conductor
Recorded at Symphony Hall, Boston, 15 April 1969
Bonus:
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Serenade No. 9 in D major, K. 320, "Posthorn": II. Menuetto: Allegretto
Recorded at Sanders Theatre, Harvard University, 15 January 1963
Picture format: NTSC 4:3
Sound format: Enhanced Mono
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Booklet notes: English, French, German
Running time: 57 mins
No. of DVDs: 1
Human Misery, Human Love - Beethoven: Symphony No 9 / Nagano, Montreal Symphony
Sony Masterworks
CD
$11.98
Apr 10, 2012
BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 9 • Kent Nagano, cond; Yann Martel (narr); Erin Wall (sop); Mihoko Fujimura (mez); Simon O’Neill (ten); Mikhail Petrenko (bs); Tafelmusik CCh; Montreal SO & Ch • SONY 88691919442 (66:56) Live: Montreal 9/2011
This is the fourth installment in the Beethoven symphony cycle currently in progress from Kent Nagano and the Montreal Symphony. What distinguishes this cycle from others is the attempt to place Beethoven’s music in a broader context. In the present case, the disc is titled Human Misery—Human Love , and the performance includes a short text by writer Yann Martel, spoken by the author in English (before the performance of the symphony) and in French (afterward).
In Fanfare 32:6, I reviewed an earlier installment, Ideals of the French Revolution , which included a text by Paul Griffiths read to music by Beethoven, and performances of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and incidental music for Egmont . While I found the performances of Beethoven worthy, the Griffiths pastiche was more problematic and ultimately unsatisfactory.
After an 11-second burst from the opening of the finale of the symphony, Martel’s narrative titled Where Have You Gone, My Revolutionary Friend? is heard, apparently recorded in a studio. The friend referred to is a sort of Everyman, who has gone astray after such promising beginnings. The question, I suppose, echoes the revolutionary nature of Beethoven’s music, but I’m skeptical of the relevance of this short poetic envoi to either Schiller or the symphony (but then I’m not an admirer of Martel’s work). The narrative is brief; alternatively, the track is easily skipped.
Luckily, the performance of the symphony itself is a strong one. The first movement opens with edgy strings using little vibrato; the audio production offers admirable clarity and sonic punch within a spacious acoustic, a tribute to the new venue (the Maison Symphonique de Montréal) that was inaugurated with this performance. Urgency is communicated through a moderately brisk tempo, which is sustained throughout the movement; the contrasting lyrical theme is poignantly hopeful. The same sense of urgency carries over into the Scherzo, with its infectious rhythms and buoyant enthusiasm (and its repeats intact). The timpani are impressively thunderous but never overly prominent. The Trio ripples along fluently, a lighthearted little melody amid the bustle of the Scherzo.
The initial ( adagio ) tempo of the third movement is not slow, but the feeling of calm and hope that suffuses it is amply transmitted. The pure string tone helps to reinforce the lack of overly emphatic or indulgent emotionalism, and the simple declaration of faith at the end provides an effective coda. The opening of the finale is more diffuse energy than startling interruption, though the cellos and basses are stern enough in their didactic recitation. Bass Mikhail Petrenko has the lighter timbre of a baritone, and sings with lyric sensitivity, accompanied by the nimble orchestra. The vocal quartet blends well and is situated in front of the choruses, bringing a coherence and balance to the sung text (aided by the relatively modest-sized choral contingent). The sprightly alla Marcia allows tenor Simon O’Neill to hold forth with jaunty panache (an echo of his Wagner roles). “Seid umschlungen, Millionen!” is properly devotional, while the double fugue is more maestoso than energico , but is effective nonetheless. The presto is exciting, and the purely instrumental coda is prestissimo indeed.
I can understand the thinking behind the decision to provide an extramusical context for Nagano’s performances of the symphonies: There are so many choices in the Beethoven symphony discography that any innovation might just elicit interest in this particular cycle. I hope, though, that if these symphony recordings are collected into a set, the extraneous and unnecessary distractions will be discarded so that the symphonies (and various companion pieces) can be left to themselves.
FANFARE: Christopher Abbot
Berg: String Quartet, Lyric Suite; Wolf: Italian Serenade
Naxos
CD
$19.99
Jun 26, 2007
Perhaps it's the passage of time, or it's simply the New Zealand String Quartet's embracing, unselfconscious style and illuminating technique, but the atonal sounds of Alban Berg's String Quartet Op. 3 sure seem a lot closer to late-19th century romanticism than they did 40 or so years ago when listeners in my generation first paid attention to Berg's music. And since the work was written almost 100 years ago, that's as it should be, as is the fact that it's now much easier to get past the larger and still-challenging sonic picture to appreciate the inner textural and motivic details.
Of course, our ability to really hear and follow what's going on depends on the performance--and these four musicians may be the best on disc (surpassing the Leipzig and Pražák quartets) in all-important matters of linear clarity, dynamic shading, and sustaining the developmental tension throughout Op. 3's two long, difficult movements. In the Lyric Suite, ensemble unanimity and precision in the increasingly fast odd-numbered movements is critical, and the New Zealanders not only accomplish this but also never forget the intrinsic drama and emotional intensity that haunts this music, especially impressive in the Allegro misterioso and Adagio appassionato movements at the heart of the work.
Indeed, as you listen to these works afresh, you not only marvel at the individual players' virtuosity, but you also have to appreciate that the relatively warm yet pleasingly "edgy" quality to the sound and the oneness of spirit in the interpretations come from the highest-order functioning of the well-integrated collective parts of a mature, vital body--that is, a string quartet that's been together a long time, each member sharing life and breath in the music they make together. This is one reason we listen to the great string quartets--and besides the chance to hear Berg's fascinating and formidable scores again, that's the reason you shouldn't miss this extraordinary recording.
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
Landmarks: 40 Years of Chandos
Chandos
CD
$82.99
Jul 05, 2019
Each recording in this 40-disc set has been selected by Chandos Managing Director, Ralph Couzens, son of the label founder, because it represents a turning point, or ‘Landmark’, in the development of the label.
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Founded by Brian Couzens in 1979, Chandos quickly established itself as one of the world’s leading classical labels. The ‘Chandos Sound’ has become a benchmark for quality, renowned alike among artists and critics around the globe.
From its inception, Chandos has specialised in recording British music, and in bringing lesser-known (and unknown) music to public attention. Released to celebrate the 40th Anniversary of the label, this handsomely packaged 40-disc set comprises 40 complete recordings from Chandos’ extensive catalogue.
Each of the four decades is represented, and each recording has been hand-picked by the Managing Director, Ralph Couzens, because it represents a turning point, or ‘Landmark’, in the development of the label.
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Excerpts from select reviews of previously released volumes included in this set:
Prokofiev: Symphony No 6, Waltzes Suite, Etc. / Järvi, Royal Scottish National Orchestra - NLA
This 1984 recording put the somewhat neglected Sixth Symphony of Prokofiev back on the musical map; it remains on balance the finest available.
– ClassicsToday.com
Vaughan Williams: London Symphony; Butterworth: Banks of Green Willow / Hickox, LSO
Conductor and orchestra respond with an unquenchable spirit, generous flexibility and tender affection that suit VW’s admirably ambitious inspiration to a T, and Chandos’s sound is big and bold to match. Quite simply, an essential purchase for anyone remotely interested in British music.
– Gramophone
Ravel, Debussy & Massenet / Bavouzet, Tortelier, BBC Symphony
Bavouzet gets the tempo changes in Ravel's G Major Concerto absolutely right, following up with one of the most songfully flowing and elegantly shaped accounts of the Adagio on disc, and concluding with an absolutely scorching finale. The Massenet encores are both novel and delightful.
– ClassicsToday.com
Bruckner: String Quintet - String Quartet / Altomonte Ensemble
Gramola Records
CD
$21.99
Jun 18, 2021
The Altomonte Ensemble, consisting of Rémy Ballot, violin, the violinist Iris Schützenberger, the violists Stefanie Kropfreiter and Peter Aigner and the cellist Jörgen Fog, presents two chamber music works by Anton Bruckner: the string quartet, composed 1861/62 at the suggestion of Joseph Hellmesberger, and the string quintet, composed in 1878/79, which is considered the highlight of Bruckner's chamber music oeuvre. The latter work was premiered by Hellmesberger and his extended quartet only after prolonged hesitation, since he originally had considered it in part as unplayable. The quintet has quite symphonic dimensions in terms of length and complexity. After the mentioned performance in 1884, a music critic wrote about the 3rd movement of the work: "This Adagio has an effect as if were something that had only been now unearthed in the vestiges of Beethoven's papers... a deeply felt work, inspired by inspiration and stemming from the composer's final years."
Symphony 8
Naxos
CD
$19.99
May 01, 2004
Diamond dedicated his Symphony No. 8 to his friend and mentor, composer Aaron Copland on the occasion of his sixtieth birthday. The work was completed in November 1960 and received it's première with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic on 27th October, 1961. While essentially tonal in harmonic language, Diamond incorporated highly chromatic elements and even a twelve-note tone row, not unlike what the Symphony's dedicatee was doing during this same period in his Connotations, though Diamond's work is far less aggressively dissonant in overall sound. The composer provided these notes for the première performance: I. Moderato-Adagio-Allegro vivo. The basic row is proclaimed in the very opening bars of the introduction; it is in two halves. The first, a forceful rhythmic theme of five notes (4/4), is thundered out by the orchestra tutti. The second, a more lyric theme of seven notes (3/4), is sung softly by a single clarinet. Thematically, the second phrase is destined to be the more important; in fact, the row is immediately rearranged and presented by a solo horn, which starts with this second phrase in an even more lyric version, and concludes with a lyric transformation of the thundering five-note opening. The fast body of the movement, a free sonata-allegro structure, starts with a heavily syncopated version of the row as presented by the French horn. This is the principal theme; a contrasting second theme is presented at a more relaxed tempo by a solo clarinet, ben cantando, over a soft counterpart of strings. Both themes are developed, and return in very nearly their original form during the course of this long but highly concentrated movement. The conclusion is a stunning climax compounded of the essence of both themes. II. Theme (Adagio), Variations and Double Fugue. After a two-measure introduction, which turns into a sequential accompaniment, the first violins begin a high, flowing melody that is the theme (3/4). Soon the orchestral basses and cellos enter with this same melody, while the violins continue the forty-measure theme. Variation No. 1 is a canon, in which the violins lead and cellos follow with the same melody, always at a distance of one measure. There are seven variations in all, the last of which repeats a long section from No. 1, and then leads without pause into the lively double-fugue. The first principal theme of this is derived from the principal theme of the first movement. Other themes from the first movement make their appearance, too, as the Symphony moves on to it's climax and conclusion.
Richard Strauss: Symphonia Domestica, Metamorphosen / Antoni Wit
Naxos
CD
$13.99
$19.99
Save 30%
Oct 27, 2009
An excellent Metamorphosen and a disc well worth the purchasing.
This disc is a follow-up to the same team’s superb performance of Strauss’s Eine Alpensinfonie . I considered that disc to be possibly the single finest achievement in Naxos’s considerable crown - a performance both epic and humane aided by a superb recording and a magnificent orchestra steeped in Straussian tradition. So it was with considerable expectation that I listened to this performance of the Symphonia domestica. Strauss’s two big programme symphonies are the pieces most often dragged out by his detractors as the ultimate examples of his over-weening ego and penchant for excess. Certainly they are scored for huge orchestras and last over three quarters of an hour. The thing that jars for many people - particularly in the case of Symphonia Domestica - is the public flaunting of private, even intimate, details - some considering the passionate love music of the adagio voyeuristic and tasteless. I have always felt this is to miss the point - Strauss was a virtuoso of the orchestra in the way others are of the violin. Clearly he delighted in being able to bend it and the rules of form and composition to fit whatever musical plan he had in mind. I feel we as listeners should focus more on the Symphonia element and less on the Domestica. After all, we are quite happy to listen to the extended unconsummated passion of Tristan and Isolde which we accept because it is a story but reject the Strauss because it is considered reportage. This is all a red herring we have been thrown. If we knew nothing of the “programme” behind this piece we would be little worse off. This piece works symphonically better than many other works so labelled. It is down to Strauss’s brilliance that he creates a series of inter-related themes thereby showing a family relationship. These is then able to treat both dramatically and musically in a coherent manner which is logical to both creative strands. As I say, a virtuoso showing off! I absolutely adore this piece. For its unbridled passion and vigour and thrilling orchestration it has few equals; not all great music has to be profound.
So to the current performance, Many of the virtues that graced the earlier disc remain. The Weimar Staatskapelle is a magnificent orchestra. They have a rich burnished tone building on a resonant dark-hued bottom end that is ideal for this style of music. All solos are taken with great style and musicality. To my ear they combine the best of the warmth of the Berlin Philharmonic with the tonal personality of the Dresden Staatskapelle; this is an orchestra I would love to hear perform live. Wit’s approach to the work is essentially similar to that of the Alpine Symphony. He eschews passing drama in favour of a longer more epic stance. This paid dividends in the earlier recording - there was a cumulative power to his interpretation that felt absolutely right. Part of the explanation for that could be that that piece, in following one day in the mountains, could be seen as a metaphor for the traversal of life from birth to death. Symphonia domestica is about a single day and the hustle and bustle that is part of it. Hence there does need to be an urgency about much of the writing. Timings alone are never a good way to judge a performance but Wit, at nearly forty-seven minutes in length, is by some measure the slowest performance I have compared. Szell blazes his way through in just over forty-one - technically stunning - but a rather regimented household one can’t help but feel! Even that most affectionate of Straussians, Kempe, is a good couple of minutes faster.
Everything starts well with the character of the orchestra both corporately and individually immediately apparent. I see that this performance was recorded about two years after the earlier one - the Metamorphosen actually dates from the same group of sessions as the Alpine Symphony - with a different engineer. He has not quite caught the inner detail with such a miraculous combination of detail and beauty as his colleague. It is from the central portion of the symphony that the performance as a whole begins to lose its way. Somehow the music seems to become becalmed. This is in part due to the loss of some of the inner detail. The contrapuntal writing in this work is remarkable even by Strauss’s standards so that even when the tempo slows there is an inner energy driving the music forward. This piece was for me one of Järvi’s greater successes in his Chandos cycle. This was due in no small part to the engineers managing to delineate the numerous lines in the musical texture. The extended love-scene lies at the heart of the work and to succeed it does need to overwhelm the listener with a series of climaxes that sweep away reserve and reservations. Sadly, in this, Wit does not succeed - it is beautiful where I want passion and considered where I want wildness. The symphony’s final section with its curious double fugue - the use of such an intellectually rigorous form after the abandon of what has gone before has always mystified me - is in many ways the piece’s weakest element and works best when played with unbuttoned good humour. It features some of the most remarkable horn writing that even Strauss produced which whilst it does register here does not overwhelm as I wish it would; once again Järvi and his SNO horns have a field day here. So I would have to say a worthy performance and an ongoing delight to hear this orchestra but not the automatic first choice I had rather hoped it would be.
Metamorphosen is a very substantial filler. The key to the approach here - and I’m sure that Wit is absolutely correct - is that this is a piece for 23 solo strings. Hence it is in effect a piece of large-scale chamber music. Other performances such as those by Karajan and his Berlin players produce a wall of tone that is remarkable - to the point you wonder how 23 players can produce that much sound - but in doing so the personal nature, the individual character of the loss that is being mourned vanishes. There is a lean quality to the Weimar sound that allows each line to be clearly followed and this reinforces the genius of the contrapuntal writing. It is a sombre performance as befits a piece written as a musical oration for a lost city and culture. Wit again directs a performance that sits at the slower end of a range of timings. Interestingly no performance I have heard clocks in at the 30 minutes indicated in the score. Of those I possess Zinman is slowest at 28:57 with Wit second at 28:16. The broad lamenting approach pays dividends here. Also the recording is splendid, beautifully balanced across the sonic range but with a richness to the bass lines that lets this extraordinary music sit on an harmonic bedrock above which the multitudinous polyphonic lines swoop and intertwine. The hardest element of this work is sustaining the single arc from gentle opening through contorted climax to desolate resolution. Wit’s pacing is excellent; never once do you feel he has allowed the music to peak too soon or conversely to sag. Listen at the very end when finally the Eroica motif in the basses appears unadorned how the accompanying upper strings blanch away their tone and vibrato to produce a final descent into oblivion. Quite superb. There is a sustained intensity to the music-making here that belies it being “just another session”. Clearly the creative fires were burning brightly in Weimar in July 2005! Metamorphosen has been fortunate in receiving many fine performances so I think it quite impossible to single out one as being first amongst equals. However, to my ear this new version is worthy of being considered up there with the very best. Listening several times to both performances on this disc I have no doubt that the earlier engineering of the string work is finer than that accorded the symphony although the latter is by no means poor.
Worth mentioning at this point Keith Anderson’s typically fine liner-note which explains with concision and clarity the genesis of both works. He points out, among many interesting facts, that Metamorphosen was composed in less than one month first note to last (13 th March - 12 th April 1945) - an astonishing burst of creativity for any composer producing a work of such complexity let alone one some 77 years old.
All in all another powerful disc of Strauss from Wit and his Weimar orchestra. For a Domestica of sheer delight I would turn elsewhere but an excellent Metamorphosen is more than compensation and at the price a Naxos disc well worth the purchasing.
-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International
This disc is a follow-up to the same team’s superb performance of Strauss’s Eine Alpensinfonie . I considered that disc to be possibly the single finest achievement in Naxos’s considerable crown - a performance both epic and humane aided by a superb recording and a magnificent orchestra steeped in Straussian tradition. So it was with considerable expectation that I listened to this performance of the Symphonia domestica. Strauss’s two big programme symphonies are the pieces most often dragged out by his detractors as the ultimate examples of his over-weening ego and penchant for excess. Certainly they are scored for huge orchestras and last over three quarters of an hour. The thing that jars for many people - particularly in the case of Symphonia Domestica - is the public flaunting of private, even intimate, details - some considering the passionate love music of the adagio voyeuristic and tasteless. I have always felt this is to miss the point - Strauss was a virtuoso of the orchestra in the way others are of the violin. Clearly he delighted in being able to bend it and the rules of form and composition to fit whatever musical plan he had in mind. I feel we as listeners should focus more on the Symphonia element and less on the Domestica. After all, we are quite happy to listen to the extended unconsummated passion of Tristan and Isolde which we accept because it is a story but reject the Strauss because it is considered reportage. This is all a red herring we have been thrown. If we knew nothing of the “programme” behind this piece we would be little worse off. This piece works symphonically better than many other works so labelled. It is down to Strauss’s brilliance that he creates a series of inter-related themes thereby showing a family relationship. These is then able to treat both dramatically and musically in a coherent manner which is logical to both creative strands. As I say, a virtuoso showing off! I absolutely adore this piece. For its unbridled passion and vigour and thrilling orchestration it has few equals; not all great music has to be profound.
So to the current performance, Many of the virtues that graced the earlier disc remain. The Weimar Staatskapelle is a magnificent orchestra. They have a rich burnished tone building on a resonant dark-hued bottom end that is ideal for this style of music. All solos are taken with great style and musicality. To my ear they combine the best of the warmth of the Berlin Philharmonic with the tonal personality of the Dresden Staatskapelle; this is an orchestra I would love to hear perform live. Wit’s approach to the work is essentially similar to that of the Alpine Symphony. He eschews passing drama in favour of a longer more epic stance. This paid dividends in the earlier recording - there was a cumulative power to his interpretation that felt absolutely right. Part of the explanation for that could be that that piece, in following one day in the mountains, could be seen as a metaphor for the traversal of life from birth to death. Symphonia domestica is about a single day and the hustle and bustle that is part of it. Hence there does need to be an urgency about much of the writing. Timings alone are never a good way to judge a performance but Wit, at nearly forty-seven minutes in length, is by some measure the slowest performance I have compared. Szell blazes his way through in just over forty-one - technically stunning - but a rather regimented household one can’t help but feel! Even that most affectionate of Straussians, Kempe, is a good couple of minutes faster.
Everything starts well with the character of the orchestra both corporately and individually immediately apparent. I see that this performance was recorded about two years after the earlier one - the Metamorphosen actually dates from the same group of sessions as the Alpine Symphony - with a different engineer. He has not quite caught the inner detail with such a miraculous combination of detail and beauty as his colleague. It is from the central portion of the symphony that the performance as a whole begins to lose its way. Somehow the music seems to become becalmed. This is in part due to the loss of some of the inner detail. The contrapuntal writing in this work is remarkable even by Strauss’s standards so that even when the tempo slows there is an inner energy driving the music forward. This piece was for me one of Järvi’s greater successes in his Chandos cycle. This was due in no small part to the engineers managing to delineate the numerous lines in the musical texture. The extended love-scene lies at the heart of the work and to succeed it does need to overwhelm the listener with a series of climaxes that sweep away reserve and reservations. Sadly, in this, Wit does not succeed - it is beautiful where I want passion and considered where I want wildness. The symphony’s final section with its curious double fugue - the use of such an intellectually rigorous form after the abandon of what has gone before has always mystified me - is in many ways the piece’s weakest element and works best when played with unbuttoned good humour. It features some of the most remarkable horn writing that even Strauss produced which whilst it does register here does not overwhelm as I wish it would; once again Järvi and his SNO horns have a field day here. So I would have to say a worthy performance and an ongoing delight to hear this orchestra but not the automatic first choice I had rather hoped it would be.
Metamorphosen is a very substantial filler. The key to the approach here - and I’m sure that Wit is absolutely correct - is that this is a piece for 23 solo strings. Hence it is in effect a piece of large-scale chamber music. Other performances such as those by Karajan and his Berlin players produce a wall of tone that is remarkable - to the point you wonder how 23 players can produce that much sound - but in doing so the personal nature, the individual character of the loss that is being mourned vanishes. There is a lean quality to the Weimar sound that allows each line to be clearly followed and this reinforces the genius of the contrapuntal writing. It is a sombre performance as befits a piece written as a musical oration for a lost city and culture. Wit again directs a performance that sits at the slower end of a range of timings. Interestingly no performance I have heard clocks in at the 30 minutes indicated in the score. Of those I possess Zinman is slowest at 28:57 with Wit second at 28:16. The broad lamenting approach pays dividends here. Also the recording is splendid, beautifully balanced across the sonic range but with a richness to the bass lines that lets this extraordinary music sit on an harmonic bedrock above which the multitudinous polyphonic lines swoop and intertwine. The hardest element of this work is sustaining the single arc from gentle opening through contorted climax to desolate resolution. Wit’s pacing is excellent; never once do you feel he has allowed the music to peak too soon or conversely to sag. Listen at the very end when finally the Eroica motif in the basses appears unadorned how the accompanying upper strings blanch away their tone and vibrato to produce a final descent into oblivion. Quite superb. There is a sustained intensity to the music-making here that belies it being “just another session”. Clearly the creative fires were burning brightly in Weimar in July 2005! Metamorphosen has been fortunate in receiving many fine performances so I think it quite impossible to single out one as being first amongst equals. However, to my ear this new version is worthy of being considered up there with the very best. Listening several times to both performances on this disc I have no doubt that the earlier engineering of the string work is finer than that accorded the symphony although the latter is by no means poor.
Worth mentioning at this point Keith Anderson’s typically fine liner-note which explains with concision and clarity the genesis of both works. He points out, among many interesting facts, that Metamorphosen was composed in less than one month first note to last (13 th March - 12 th April 1945) - an astonishing burst of creativity for any composer producing a work of such complexity let alone one some 77 years old.
All in all another powerful disc of Strauss from Wit and his Weimar orchestra. For a Domestica of sheer delight I would turn elsewhere but an excellent Metamorphosen is more than compensation and at the price a Naxos disc well worth the purchasing.
-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International
Mozart: Divertimento In E Flat / Kraggerud, Tomter, Richter
Naxos
CD
$19.99
Jun 28, 2011
It's great to see this work, incomparably the most magnificent string trio ever written, getting increasing attention on disc. We recently welcomed a splendid new recording on BIS, and now here's another, equally fine. It seems that the music brings out the best in its performers, as well it must. Anyone attempting a nearly 50-minute-long string trio had better have the chops to carry it off. Perhaps the outstanding quality of this performance is its rhythmic thrust, combined with the ability of the players to characterize their musical lines in an independent but still effectively coordinated way.
I'm thinking in particular of cellist Christoph Richter's delightful, swooping comments at the end of the first-movement exposition, the almost "parlante" phrasing of the finale's principal rondo theme, and the generously lyrical phrasing of the grand second-movement Adagio. In music bursting with some of Mozart's catchiest tunes, there's never a moment that turns dull or static in this performance, and the sonics let the music breathe in a warm but ideally intimate setting. You really can't have too many versions of this piece, one of the glories of the chamber music literature. Let this be one of them.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Handel: Winged Hands - The Eight Great Suites & Overtures / Corti
Arcana
CD
$29.99
Mar 11, 2022
After the album Bach, Little Books, harpsichordist Francesco Corti continues his collaboration with Arcana with a 2-album recording entirely dedicated to George Frideric Handel. At the center of the project are the eight “Great” suites. These masterpieces were the composer’s first published set, and are a clear testimony to his virtuosity at the keyboard. Their characteristically diversified styles reflect not only the mélange of national traditions assimilated by the young composer, but also his phenomenal improvisatory talent. Moreover, the attraction of these pieces lies in their melodic and rhythmic affinity to the world of singing and orchestral writing, Händel’s strongest interests. Arrangements of Handel’s operatic overtures and arias started circulating early in his career in England, and in his later years he was known to perform his overtures on the keyboard himself. Corti designs a program showcasing the composer’s brilliant treatment of the instrument, choosing to complement the “Great” Suites with a selection of transcriptions from Händel’s own hand and from his close musical circle.
REVIEWS:
It’s possible that Francesco Corti’s distinction as a conductor and a collaborative keyboard artist overshadows his considerable gifts as a harpsichord soloist. For example, whoever hears about his 2010 Bach Partitas released by Berlin Classics, a terrific “sleeper” edition if there ever was one? All this is to say that collectors looking for a reference-worthy harpsichord version of Handel’s eight “great” Suites should consider Corti. Although some listeners may take issue with the slightly distant and diffuse engineering, I find the sound quality attractively rounded, resonant, and warm, as if you’re hearing Corti’s 1738 Christian Vater model instrument in an intimate concert venue.
Certainly the sonics enhance Corti’s wonderfully freewheeling way with Suite No. 1’s improvisatory Prelude and excitingly boisterous Gigue. Suite No. 2’s opening Adagio and Suite No. 3’s concluding Air amount to a masterclass in how to organically integrate ornaments. Suite No. 4’s fugal opening Allegro attains bracing clarity due to Corti’s subtle agogic phrasings, while the ubiquitous Suite No. 5 “Harmonious Blacksmith” variations are more about cumulative build than facile virtuosity.
Despite Corti’s headlong pace for Suite No. 6’s Gigue finale, the rapid phrases have plenty of breathing room. And Suite No. 7 ‘s familiar Passacaille manages to convey both pomp and vulnerability at the same time.
Equally inspired performances of overture transcriptions flesh out this release. I especially love the imaginative registration shifts in Teseo’s Allegro section, plus Corti’s varied approaches to arpeggiating chords in Il pastor fido’s adagio opening section. For all of the thought and scholarship informing Corti’s interpretations, they consistently convey vitality, spontaneity, and forward sweep, without the least hint of self-awareness or pedanticism. Without a doubt, the title “Winged Hands” befits this fabulous release.
-- ClassicsToday.com (Jed Distler)
Kuhlau: Complete Sonatas for Flute and Piano / Tozzetti, Caturelli
Brilliant Classics
CD
$8.99
$17.99
Save 50%
Aug 27, 2021
| Friedrich Kuhlau (1786 - 1832) lived and worked during a transitional period of classical music. A contemporary of Beethoven and Schubert, his works remain almost unknown to this day, except for some compositions for the flute. The compositional style of the sonatas featured in this recording perfectly identifies with that of his contemporaries, while showing some differences in content; the structure of the sonatas is that of the classical period, but the use of melodic themes and harmony looks to the romantic period. These interpretations of the sonatas for flute and piano highlight the constant dialogue between the two instruments; in fact there is a continuous thematic exchange, which the artists found interesting to discover and highlight. The synergy is perceived above all in choppy tempos, while in every Adagio or Andante the flute assumes the role of the solo instrument, and the piano accompanies and responds. The themes in the slow movements are sweet and moving, and the composer manages to evoke emotions that are always different from each other, thus bringing out his predisposition for this type of tempo, present even in the most brilliant movements: in fact in every allegro, even in the one characterized by the greatest energy, there is a moment of tranquility in which the composer takes the time to make performers and listeners ponder. |
Respighi: Violin Sonatas / Fabio Paggioro, Massimiliano Ferrati
Brilliant Classics
CD
$13.99
Jan 28, 2014
Ottorino Respighi is best known for his exuberant and expansive orchestral works, such as the Roman Trilogy, but he was also an important composer of chamber and salon music. His musical education began with him learning violin and piano as a child, and for the first 20 years of his career as a composer he only wrote for these instruments. He was an accomplished violinist, and his mastery of the instrument manifests itself in the idiomatic violin-writing heard in the works on this disc.
Respighi's violin sonatas demonstrate the astonishingly wide range of his musical interests and the influences on his style: from early music, through German Romanticism, to impressionist tone colours. They are also a showcase for his remarkable gift for melody. The D minor Sonata dates from Respighi's early period and contrasts lively and energetic outer movements with a gentle yet passionate Adagio. The B minor Sonata, composed 20 years later, is a grander, more intense and dramatic work, and is testimony to the mature Respighi's command of chamber music. The two violin sonatas are complemented by the Six Pieces for violin and piano: these elegant and charming works show the lighter side of Respighi.
These works are performed by award-winning violinist Fabio Paggioro and acclaimed pianist Massimiliano Ferrati, who has been praised by the Corriere della Sera for his "highly refined sound [that] turns to magic".
Other information:
- Ottorino Respighi, gone into music history as a sorcerer of colourful orchestration, wrote a substantial oeuvre of chamber music works. A virtuoso violinist himself, he wrote two violin sonatas, which offer vintage Respighi: an eclectic use of various styles, from modal early music, through romantic pathos, to impressionistic colour experiments.
- Both sonatas require the highest technical and musical command from both players, and violinist Fabio Paggioro and pianist Massimiliano Ferrati do them full justice: committed and passionate music making!
- Contains liner notes and artist biographies.
- Fabio Paggioro performs on a Vincentus Postiglione violin (Naples, 1899).
Respighi's violin sonatas demonstrate the astonishingly wide range of his musical interests and the influences on his style: from early music, through German Romanticism, to impressionist tone colours. They are also a showcase for his remarkable gift for melody. The D minor Sonata dates from Respighi's early period and contrasts lively and energetic outer movements with a gentle yet passionate Adagio. The B minor Sonata, composed 20 years later, is a grander, more intense and dramatic work, and is testimony to the mature Respighi's command of chamber music. The two violin sonatas are complemented by the Six Pieces for violin and piano: these elegant and charming works show the lighter side of Respighi.
These works are performed by award-winning violinist Fabio Paggioro and acclaimed pianist Massimiliano Ferrati, who has been praised by the Corriere della Sera for his "highly refined sound [that] turns to magic".
Other information:
- Ottorino Respighi, gone into music history as a sorcerer of colourful orchestration, wrote a substantial oeuvre of chamber music works. A virtuoso violinist himself, he wrote two violin sonatas, which offer vintage Respighi: an eclectic use of various styles, from modal early music, through romantic pathos, to impressionistic colour experiments.
- Both sonatas require the highest technical and musical command from both players, and violinist Fabio Paggioro and pianist Massimiliano Ferrati do them full justice: committed and passionate music making!
- Contains liner notes and artist biographies.
- Fabio Paggioro performs on a Vincentus Postiglione violin (Naples, 1899).
Brahms & Mahler: Piano Quartets / Barakhovsky, Zemtsov, Schmidt, Nebolsin
Naxos
CD
$13.99
$19.99
Save 30%
Feb 10, 2017
After a period as a court composer at Detmold, Brahms returned to the city of his birth, Hamburg, in January 1860. Here, in relative tranquillity, he explored the then rare piano quartet repertoire. The Piano Quartet No. 2 received a very sympathetic hearing in Vienna, Clara Schumann even preferring it to its immediate predecessor, the Piano Quartet, Op. 25 (Naxos 8572798). Its lyricism is heightened by a romantically beautiful Adagio. Mahler's vibrant Piano Quartet in A minor dates from 1876, the end of his first year at the Vienna Conservatory, where the only completed movement was first performed.
Music For Harp - Middle Ages To The 20th Century
Vox
CD
$35.99
Jan 01, 1992
...Ricci's performance of the Adagio [from the Spohr Concertante] could not be bettered and he has a worthy partner in Susanna Mildonian... Louis de Froment is an admirable accompanist and the recording...is admirably clear and well balanced.
-- Gramophone [6/1979, reviewing an LP release of the Spohr]
-----------------------------------
The chromatic harp is an idiosyncratic and, outside certain simple formulae, difficult instrument to write for; it has also been hard for it to escape from its 'romantic' image. Think of the harp, think of arpeggios (isn't that what the word signifies?), and those traversed with a sweep of the hand are inevitably colourful because you can't do it with a simple triad. Harp concertos have never been numerous and, other than Mozart and Handel, have come and gone like recorded ships in the night. Glière's has survived but Zabaleta's account of Reinecke's has long gone (DG 138 853, 11/63). Hard to realize the Glihre was written as late as 1939 —broad but fairly commonplace tunes, ultraconservative structure and language, arpeggios galore are its lot, music to relax and dream to. Michel is a fine harpist and her Glibre fully matches Ellis's older and less crisply recorded version on Decca, but neither can transmute the music's pewter to gold. The Reinecke is a more demonstrative and developed work, not written 'Out of its time', exploiting the resources of the harp in both solo and subsidiary roles, the flanking movements with cyclic connections.
The slow movement is exceptionally beautiful, the opening theme given by harp and trombone in hushed unison, and later, in ethereal harmonies on the harp with quiet responses from the strings. Michel presses a little ahead of her colleagues at times (notably the unisoni trombone) but generally benefits from skilful orchestration, sensitive support and well balanced recording. Written for a 'commoner' instrument the Reinecke might have become an oft-heard standard in the repertoire- it may still find favour with anyone following my advice to buy this recording.
-- Gramophone [4/1980, reviewing the LP release of the Gliere and Reinecke concertos]
-----------------------------------
The novelty for me—and I daresay it may be for others too—was Roussel's Serenade of 1925, refreshing music that while keeping well clear of profundities, is yet most elegantly fashioned, urbane and full of wry charm. Here you will find the Melos Ensemble more smiling and certainly more kaleidescopic in colour. The Turnabout team are a bit more serious about the musical argument, a bit less bemused by effects of tone colouring. The flautist, Wilhelm Schwegler, also unfortunately has to breathe, whereas Richard Adeney's instrument (I presume it is Adeney) miraculously seems to play itself without audible intakes of air. It is Adeney's tonal bloom, his wider range of dynamics and colour and more malleable phrasing that in the first place succeeds in making Debussy's sonata sound more beguiling than the cheaper version, and especially in the opening Pastorale—considered by many critics no less seductive than the famous L'apres-midi. In this movement the Turnabout team do not react subtly and sensitively enough to detail, whereas the Melos are constantly reading between the lines and yielding rhythmically to this and that. But perhaps you could argue that the graver pulse chosen by the Germans for the Minuetto emphasizes its archaic, hieratic quality. I also thought they manage to define individual notes a bit more precisely in the finale than the Melos, who are sometimes a bit too impressionistic in their fluidity for this movement, where Debussy, "Musicien Francais", is very definitely looking back to seventeenth-and eighteenthcentury French classicism.
The performance I enjoyed most was the old, familiar Ravel from the Endres Quartet with Helga Storck, Konrad Hampe and Gerd Starke. The music, of course, is much less equivocal than the Debussy, and these players respond to its sensuous languor and tingling darts with more immediacy than I detected anywhere else on this record.
-- Joan Chissell, Gramophone [2/1969, reviewing the LP release of the Debussy, Ravel, and Roussel works]
-- Gramophone [6/1979, reviewing an LP release of the Spohr]
-----------------------------------
The chromatic harp is an idiosyncratic and, outside certain simple formulae, difficult instrument to write for; it has also been hard for it to escape from its 'romantic' image. Think of the harp, think of arpeggios (isn't that what the word signifies?), and those traversed with a sweep of the hand are inevitably colourful because you can't do it with a simple triad. Harp concertos have never been numerous and, other than Mozart and Handel, have come and gone like recorded ships in the night. Glière's has survived but Zabaleta's account of Reinecke's has long gone (DG 138 853, 11/63). Hard to realize the Glihre was written as late as 1939 —broad but fairly commonplace tunes, ultraconservative structure and language, arpeggios galore are its lot, music to relax and dream to. Michel is a fine harpist and her Glibre fully matches Ellis's older and less crisply recorded version on Decca, but neither can transmute the music's pewter to gold. The Reinecke is a more demonstrative and developed work, not written 'Out of its time', exploiting the resources of the harp in both solo and subsidiary roles, the flanking movements with cyclic connections.
The slow movement is exceptionally beautiful, the opening theme given by harp and trombone in hushed unison, and later, in ethereal harmonies on the harp with quiet responses from the strings. Michel presses a little ahead of her colleagues at times (notably the unisoni trombone) but generally benefits from skilful orchestration, sensitive support and well balanced recording. Written for a 'commoner' instrument the Reinecke might have become an oft-heard standard in the repertoire- it may still find favour with anyone following my advice to buy this recording.
-- Gramophone [4/1980, reviewing the LP release of the Gliere and Reinecke concertos]
-----------------------------------
The novelty for me—and I daresay it may be for others too—was Roussel's Serenade of 1925, refreshing music that while keeping well clear of profundities, is yet most elegantly fashioned, urbane and full of wry charm. Here you will find the Melos Ensemble more smiling and certainly more kaleidescopic in colour. The Turnabout team are a bit more serious about the musical argument, a bit less bemused by effects of tone colouring. The flautist, Wilhelm Schwegler, also unfortunately has to breathe, whereas Richard Adeney's instrument (I presume it is Adeney) miraculously seems to play itself without audible intakes of air. It is Adeney's tonal bloom, his wider range of dynamics and colour and more malleable phrasing that in the first place succeeds in making Debussy's sonata sound more beguiling than the cheaper version, and especially in the opening Pastorale—considered by many critics no less seductive than the famous L'apres-midi. In this movement the Turnabout team do not react subtly and sensitively enough to detail, whereas the Melos are constantly reading between the lines and yielding rhythmically to this and that. But perhaps you could argue that the graver pulse chosen by the Germans for the Minuetto emphasizes its archaic, hieratic quality. I also thought they manage to define individual notes a bit more precisely in the finale than the Melos, who are sometimes a bit too impressionistic in their fluidity for this movement, where Debussy, "Musicien Francais", is very definitely looking back to seventeenth-and eighteenthcentury French classicism.
The performance I enjoyed most was the old, familiar Ravel from the Endres Quartet with Helga Storck, Konrad Hampe and Gerd Starke. The music, of course, is much less equivocal than the Debussy, and these players respond to its sensuous languor and tingling darts with more immediacy than I detected anywhere else on this record.
-- Joan Chissell, Gramophone [2/1969, reviewing the LP release of the Debussy, Ravel, and Roussel works]
Bach: Sonatas for Violin and Keyboard / Kaakinen-Pilch, Hakkila
Ondine
CD
$13.49
$26.99
Save 50%
Jan 12, 2024
The son of Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750), Carl Philipp Emanuel, described his father’s Sonatas BWV 1014–1019 as among the best works his father ever wrote and continued to perform them extensively after his father’s death. This is music of implication and inference, the emotions no less real for their apparent lack of specificity. There is pleasure in the paradox: even without a text, the music sings. “They still sound very good and give me much joy, although they date back more than fifty years. They contain some Adagios that could not be written in a more singable manner today”, writes C. P. E. Bach. In these new recordings, some of the greatest exponents of Baroque music in the Nordic countries, violinist Sirkka-Liisa Kaakinen-Pilch and keyboardist Tuija Hakkila join forces. Tuija Hakkila plays copy of a Gottfried Silbermann fortepiano 1747 by Andrea Restelli — J. S. Bach played one of his fortepianos in 1747 in Potsdam for Frederick the Great and his court musicians.
Reger: Piano Concerto Op 114; Bach/Busoni: Piano Concerto Bwv 1052 / Korstick, Schirmer, Et Al
CPO
CD
$18.99
Apr 28, 2009
REGER Piano Concerto. BACH-BUSONI Keyboard Concerto in d, BWV 1052 • Michael Korstick (pn); Ulf Schirmer, cond; Munich RO • cpo 777 373 (63:12)
So many factors go into the making of a successful recording! One would think that great artists, committed to the music, would be primary. The classic recording of Reger’s Piano Concerto is by Rudolf Serkin, a committed Regerite if ever there was one, accompanied by no less than the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene Ormandy, on a Columbia stereo LP, later a CBS Masterworks Portrait CD. When that recording proved underwhelming, one’s natural reaction was to give up on the music, and later performances supported that decision. Korstick, Schirmer, and Munich do not suggest comparable levels of quality—or at least of fame; yet right from the opening bars the music grabs our attention, holds it, and satisfies on every count.
So, what happened? First off, spectacular recorded sound brings Reger’s Concerto to life as never before. One’s auditory senses, and that means more than just hearing, immediately leap to attention. I envision ears standing up, hairs on the back of the neck rising, like our dog when a deer appears in the yard. Of course, sheer sound is not enough, and the artists whom I so unthinkingly dissed perform at a high level. The orchestral introduction sings with a white-hot passion not previously realized, and the piano’s entrance bursts upon us like a thunderclap. In Fanfare 32:3, Peter Burwasser admired Korstick’s “muscular virtuosity” in Beethoven sonatas, but decried his “lack of grace.” That sounds like a prescription for Reger’s mighty finger buster, and Korstick delivers big time, maintaining golden tone with no apparent strain, which Serkin—one of my favorite artists—was not able to do. But this Concerto is not all bluff and bluster; it has its tender moments, even in the pugnacious opening Allegro moderato (the moderato is an indication of tempo, not of character). Korstick is reasonably convincing in the brief, calm second theme and its reoccurrences. Although Reger’s notorious harmonic progressions keep this music from sounding like Brahms, that master’s impetuous First Concerto is an obvious influence on this movement.
Korstick is less at home with the second movement, Largo con gran espressione; a few passages become just a series of separate notes, rather than one continuous line. But that happens with Serkin, too, suggesting that we should blame the composer. When the inevitable climaxes arrive, Korstick is back in his element, pouring out cascades of tone. Serkin finds an elfin humor in the Allegretto con spirito finale, which Korstick and Schirmer—at a much slower tempo—miss. They seem to be revisiting the spirit of the opening movement, whereas Serkin is exploring another of Reger’s many facets. If the quality of recorded sound were anywhere near equal, one might prefer Serkin/Ormandy in this movement; but it is not, so it may be best to fall into step with the cpo team and wallow in Korstick’s potent pianism. All of this is not enough to bring Reger’s Concerto up to the level of Brahms, or even Rachmaninoff, but it does turn it into a fascinating, absorbing work.
This Bach-Busoni Concerto is the score that the otherwise incomparable Dinu Lipatti (and many other pianist of his era) played, heard in a 1947 live-performance recording with the Concertgebouw under van Beinum ( Fanfare 24:5, p. 277). Busoni’s concept was the exact opposite of today’s period practice: he added color, fistfuls of extra notes, and much ornamentation to the keyboard part (think Horowitz playing Mussorgsky), and he cut freely, particularly in the finale. Korstick’s interest in the Busoni version comes from his studies at Juilliard, where he met Edward Weiss, a Busoni pupil who played the Concerto under Busoni’s baton. The structure and the familiar themes may be Bach, but this is Busoni we are hearing; given Korstick’s qualities (the good and the bad) that may be just as well. Comparison with Lipatti is difficult: that recording was an amateur one, so distorted that one barely notices that he and van Beinum somehow restored Busoni’s cuts. Lipatti plays with more consistent tempos and a semblance of taste—his Adagio is deeply moving—but he is still far from Bach.
This disc is urgently recommended to Reger fanciers. Others will not care, and probably will not be convinced if they do try it.
FANFARE: James H. North
Bossi: Piano Trios / Trio Arche
Brilliant Classics
CD
$13.99
Mar 23, 2018
Born in a town on the shore of Lake Garda, Marco Bossi has a foothold on the catalogue thanks to his organ music: he was born into a family of organists and studied and worked in northern Italian cities including Bologna and Milan before taking up a post as teacher of harmony and organ at the conservatoire in Naples. He made contributions to the Italian operatic traditions, which have largely been forgotten, but organists still play his sonatas and dramatic evocations of the Passion and the Transfiguration of Christ. With Giuseppe Martucci and Giovanni Sgambati, Bossi also led a revival of thenative tradition of chamber music, which had been neglected in Italy after the string quartets of Donizetti. This new recording of his piano trios joins Brilliant Classics albums of piano trios and string quartets of Martucci and string quartets and piano quartets of Sgambati. Both works are generously proportioned four-movement works in Classical form, the first of them dedicated to Martucci. The slow movements are especially novel: the Larghetto of the first is designated a dialogue, which unfolds in long, unwinding melodies; the Adagio of the Second is overtly elegiac in mood, though it is dedicated to German musician Georg Goehler, who outlived Bossi for almost 30 years; the career of the Italian musician came to a sudden and tragic end with his death by drowning in the mid-Atlantic, returning to Europe in February 1925 from a visit to New York. This album forms an engaging introduction to the impassioned idiom, too little known, of a significant figure in fin-de-siècle Italian music.
Christmas Meditation
Capriccio
CD
$21.99
Nov 16, 2010
Popular vocal and instrumental works and excerpts from the Baroque era through earlier 20th Century, all associated with the Winter season and Christmas. On 5 CDs.
Adam:
O Holy Night
Albinoni:
Adagio for Strings and Organ in G minor
Bach:
Air on the G string
Bruch:
Jubilate, Amen Op. 3
Bruckner:
Ave Maria
Corelli:
Concerto grosso Op. 6 No. 8 in G minor 'fatto per la notte di Natale'
Gabrieli, G:
Sacrae Symphoniae No. 2
Gounod:
Ave Maria
Grüber, F:
Stille Nacht
Handel:
Messiah: Pastoral Symphony 'Pifa'
Manfredini:
Concerto grosso in C major, Op. 3 No. 12 'per il Santissimo Natale'
Molter:
Concerto pastorale in G major
Mozart:
Laudate Dominum from Vesperae Solennes de Confessore, K339
Praetorius, M:
Kindelein zart von guter Art
Reger:
Mariä Wiegenlied, Op. 76 No. 52
Traditional:
Süsser die Glocken
O Jesulein Zart
Vivaldi:
The Four Seasons: Winter, RV297
Adam:
O Holy Night
Albinoni:
Adagio for Strings and Organ in G minor
Bach:
Air on the G string
Bruch:
Jubilate, Amen Op. 3
Bruckner:
Ave Maria
Corelli:
Concerto grosso Op. 6 No. 8 in G minor 'fatto per la notte di Natale'
Gabrieli, G:
Sacrae Symphoniae No. 2
Gounod:
Ave Maria
Grüber, F:
Stille Nacht
Handel:
Messiah: Pastoral Symphony 'Pifa'
Manfredini:
Concerto grosso in C major, Op. 3 No. 12 'per il Santissimo Natale'
Molter:
Concerto pastorale in G major
Mozart:
Laudate Dominum from Vesperae Solennes de Confessore, K339
Praetorius, M:
Kindelein zart von guter Art
Reger:
Mariä Wiegenlied, Op. 76 No. 52
Traditional:
Süsser die Glocken
O Jesulein Zart
Vivaldi:
The Four Seasons: Winter, RV297
Il Violino Boemo - Benda, Gurecky, Jiranek / Torgersen, Luks, Masek
Supraphon
CD
$31.99
Jan 28, 2014
Supraphon’s survey of music in 18th-century Prague includes two sonatas by Frantisek Benda, one by Carl Heinrich Graun that used to pass as a work by Benda, a sonata by Josef Antonín Gurecký, and two by Frantisek Jiránek. Of these musical figures, Benda may be the best known; Dr. Charles Burney met him and considered him original in his time (although, like Giuseppe Tartini, Benda placed primary importance on the singing quality of his compositions for violin).
The program, played at a pitch approaching A=415, opens with Benda’s Sonata in Bb Major. In the opening Largo, violinist Lenka Torgersen demonstrates, with sonorous support from cellist Libor Masek, with what vocal purity Benda’s lines can flow; but she brings a lively playfulness to the ensuing Allegro , and to the following rapid movement. The first of Jiránek’s two sonatas, in F Major, shares in its opening Adagio the singing quality of Benda’s works, but Torgersen encrusts the Allegro that follows with spunky ornamentation and gives the final Tempo di Menuet an ingratiatingly zesty performance. The third sonata on the program, again by Benda, brings another engaging dialogue in the graceful opening Siciliano between the solo violin and the continuo group. The Allegro that follows contains some brief passages on the G-string; and, digging into them, Torgersen reveals the strength in this register of the 1760 violin by Sebastian Klotz upon which she plays, a register earlier composers generally avoided because of the massiveness and therefore the balkiness of the lowest string. She also spits defiantly in the movement’s across-the-string staccatos. These staccatos reappear in modified form during the thematically similar finale.
The sonata formerly attributed to Benda (and bearing catalog numbers for both composers) demands from the performers a similar lyrical affinity, especially, perhaps, in its Andante . Gurecký’s four-movement work (the others on the program all fall into three movements) includes in its second movement passages novel in harmony and some attempts to extend the violin part’s ambit upward; but its overall style fits into that prevalent in the rest of the program. The recital closes with a Sonata in C Major by Jiránek, at more than 12 minutes the longest of the program’s works. Its Adagio gives Torgersen an opportunity to indulge in pregnant rhetorical pauses, and Luks offsets its singing lyricism with flashing runs. The ensemble makes an especially strong case for the gavotte and variations that constitute the finale.
Leila Schayegh, Václav Luks, and Felix Knecht made a selection of Benda’s sonatas on Glossa 922507, Fanfare 35:6, as did Hans-Joachim Berg and Naoko Akutagawa on Naxos 8.572307, Fanfare 35:4. Berg produces a tone more nasal in quality and occasionally sounds as though he shifts awkwardly between positions, but he has the advantage of playing Benda’s ornamentation. Schayegh, on the other hand, playing some of the sonatas with fortepiano, deploys a tone lighter in weight but flexible and expressive. For those interested only in Benda’s works, it might be a toss-up, but for the entire program, Torgersen’s is hard to beat, with its lyrical and at times jaunty performances, and deserves to be recommended to almost all listeners.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
The program, played at a pitch approaching A=415, opens with Benda’s Sonata in Bb Major. In the opening Largo, violinist Lenka Torgersen demonstrates, with sonorous support from cellist Libor Masek, with what vocal purity Benda’s lines can flow; but she brings a lively playfulness to the ensuing Allegro , and to the following rapid movement. The first of Jiránek’s two sonatas, in F Major, shares in its opening Adagio the singing quality of Benda’s works, but Torgersen encrusts the Allegro that follows with spunky ornamentation and gives the final Tempo di Menuet an ingratiatingly zesty performance. The third sonata on the program, again by Benda, brings another engaging dialogue in the graceful opening Siciliano between the solo violin and the continuo group. The Allegro that follows contains some brief passages on the G-string; and, digging into them, Torgersen reveals the strength in this register of the 1760 violin by Sebastian Klotz upon which she plays, a register earlier composers generally avoided because of the massiveness and therefore the balkiness of the lowest string. She also spits defiantly in the movement’s across-the-string staccatos. These staccatos reappear in modified form during the thematically similar finale.
The sonata formerly attributed to Benda (and bearing catalog numbers for both composers) demands from the performers a similar lyrical affinity, especially, perhaps, in its Andante . Gurecký’s four-movement work (the others on the program all fall into three movements) includes in its second movement passages novel in harmony and some attempts to extend the violin part’s ambit upward; but its overall style fits into that prevalent in the rest of the program. The recital closes with a Sonata in C Major by Jiránek, at more than 12 minutes the longest of the program’s works. Its Adagio gives Torgersen an opportunity to indulge in pregnant rhetorical pauses, and Luks offsets its singing lyricism with flashing runs. The ensemble makes an especially strong case for the gavotte and variations that constitute the finale.
Leila Schayegh, Václav Luks, and Felix Knecht made a selection of Benda’s sonatas on Glossa 922507, Fanfare 35:6, as did Hans-Joachim Berg and Naoko Akutagawa on Naxos 8.572307, Fanfare 35:4. Berg produces a tone more nasal in quality and occasionally sounds as though he shifts awkwardly between positions, but he has the advantage of playing Benda’s ornamentation. Schayegh, on the other hand, playing some of the sonatas with fortepiano, deploys a tone lighter in weight but flexible and expressive. For those interested only in Benda’s works, it might be a toss-up, but for the entire program, Torgersen’s is hard to beat, with its lyrical and at times jaunty performances, and deserves to be recommended to almost all listeners.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
Mahler: Symphony No. 7 / Bloch, Lille National Orchestra
Alpha
CD
$20.99
Sep 25, 2020
Alexandre Bloch, who has been Music Director of the Orchestre National de Lille since 2016, has chosen to devote a whole season of concerts to Mahler’s symphonies. The Seventh (1904-05) is the most rarely recorded of the cycle – unjustly, because this work later nicknamed ‘Song of the Night’ testifies as clearly as its companions to the metaphysical grandiloquence that haunted Mahler during its gestation. From the gloomy Adagio of the first movement to the thundering Rondo that concludes the work, Alexandre Bloch and his orchestra lead us from the anguish of twilight to the ecstasies of dawn.
Mahler: Symphony No. 5
Naxos
CD
$19.99
Apr 15, 1992
Gustav Mahler has come to enjoy a unique position in the music of our own time. He was able to revivify the symphony of Austro-German tradition, creating in it a poignant expression of sorrow, a sense of Weltschmerz, but encompassing a much wider range of feeling. He was able to enlarge the symphony, not only by an expansion of form and an enlargement of the orchestra itself, but by the use of song, a logical extension of Beethoven's Choral Symphony, including and summarizing a whole tradition of music. Mahler was born in Bohemia in 1860 into a relatively humble Jewish family of no great intellectual or cultural pretensions. His father, at one time little more than a pedlar, came to own a successful business that included a distillery and several taverns. At the same time he read w hat he could, in an attempt to further his own intellectual interests. Mahler himself was eventually able to study at the Conservatory in Vienna and to enroll in other courses at the University. It was as a conductor that Mahler made his name, with a series of appointments in resort opera-houses during the summer season. From these he moved to more important appointments in Prague, Leipzig, Budapest and Hamburg. Finally, in 1897, he reached the summit of any conductor's ambition, when he was made director of the Vienna Court Opera. During ten years he revived the opera, particularly with his performances of Mozart and of Wagner. By 1907, however, he had aroused sufficient hostility to decide to resign. His high standards in the opera-house made him enemies, and the amount of time he was obliged to give to performances of his own music and his Jewish origins were enough reason for his critics to condemn him. 1907 brought not only Mahler's resignation from the Vienna Court Opera, but the death of one of his two daughters, a bereavement that deeply depressed him. There was further cause for anxiety when it was found that he was suffering from a weakness of the heart that made it necessary to avoid any physical exertion. His final years were spent partly in the United States where he conducted first at the Metropolitan Opera during a difficult period in it's history and undertook to reform the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. At the same time he fulfilled a series of engagements as a conductor in Europe. He died in Vienna in May, 1911. Although his music met opposition from some in his life-time, his subsequent importance has been incalculable, both as one of the greatest composers of his generation and as an influence on his contemporaries and successors. Mahler's compositions include a number of songs and ten symphonies, the last incomplete, as well as Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth), a symphony in fact, if not in name. He completed his Fifth Symphony in 1902 during the summer following his marriage to Alma Schindler, a young woman of considerable and varied talents, daughter of the landscape painter Anton Schindler and later wife of Walter Gropius and subsequently of Franz Werfel. The symphony is in three parts, the first, which includes the first two movements, allows the material of the opening Funeral March to undergo further development and expansion in a turbulent second movement. The March itself recalls the song of the deserter, Der Tamboursg'sell (The Drummer-Boy), from Des Knaben Wunderhorn (The Boy's Magic Horn), von Arnim and Brentano's seminal collection of German folk-song, and the Kindertotenlieder (Songs of the Death of Children), posthumously published poems by Rückert, while the contrasts of the second movement bring moments suggesting a Bruckner chorale or a fragment of Wagner. The second part is the Scherzo, a substantial centre to the whole symphony, while the third consists of an Adagietto recalling two of Mahler's settings of Rückert and a final Rondo that touches again on the world of Des Knaben Wunderhorn.
Boccherini: String Quartets Op 32 No 3-6 /Quartetto Borciani
Naxos
CD
$19.99
Feb 01, 2002
This delightful disc presents absolutely first-rate performances of chamber music that deserves to be much better known. There are two reasons that Boccherini's music hasn't worn as well as Haydn's or Mozart's. First, his prevailing mode of gentle graciousness precludes the kind of emotional depth and drama that the two Viennese masters routinely write into their instrumental music. Second (and related to the first point), Boccherini writes marvelously varied expositions--witness the C major (Op. 32 No. 4) quartet's opening Allegro bizzarro--but uneventful developments. In short, his music isn't as well sustained or as purposeful as Haydn's or Mozart's, but it's also not as lengthy or ambitious, so within its given parameters there's some wonderful writing, and the Quartetto Borciani plays these quartets for all they're worth. In particular, they characterize the opening movements with as much gusto as the music can take. Even the initial Allegro comodo of the tepidly genial G minor quartet (Op. 32 No. 5) moves purposefully forward, while the same work's final Capriccio ad libitum captures the players (and the composer) in full fantastic flight. By contrast, slow movements are marvelously sustained and possess a genuinely Italianate singing tone--as in the heavenly and impressively large-scale Adagio from the D major quartet (Op. 32 No. 3). In sum, you won't easily hear a more persuasive case being made for this music, and Naxos' sonics are top-drawer. Come and explore! --David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Khachaturian: Othello Suite, Battle of Stalingrad Suite / Adriano
Naxos
CD
$19.99
Jul 08, 2014
This disc was one of Ian Lace’s Recommended Original Film Score Recordings when first issued at full price as Marco Polo 8.223314. Here it resurfaces at upper bargain price.
Khachaturian, like many another composer, major and lesser, in Soviet Russia, turned his hand to the cinema and did so pretty extensively. This was a great leveller, a ready source of income and a means of reaching out to mass audiences across the Union. The pity is that we see so few of those films. If we think at all about them we much more readily accept seeing them written off as the work of political hacks. The composer’s first effort – of eighteen - was the film Pepo written for the Armenian Film Board a few years before his First Symphony (1934). His last film dated from 1960.
Here are suites assembled from the music for two of Khachaturian’s cinema scores. They are played for all they are worth. Adherents of this composer and of twentieth century music of the USSR will want to hear how he fared in dealing with the silver screen.
The Battle of Stalingrad original score ran to some two hours. The titles give us some impression of what is featured in this suite: I. A City on the Volga - II. The Invasion; IIIa. Stalingrad in Flames; IIIb. The Enemy is doomed; IV. For our Motherland; To the Attack! - Eternal Glory to the Heroes; V. To Victory - VI. There is a Cliff on the Volga. Much of this is urgent and not specially subtle – then again this is not meant to be about subtlety. The music often has a furious seething energy typical of the militaristic bravado found in the music for the Roman legionaries in Spartacus. We also hear little half-echoes of The Great Gate of Kiev. There are some glowing interludes such as that to be found in the almost Bridge-like battlefield bleakness of tr. 3 and at the close of tr. 4 (Eternal Glory to the Heroes). There are also moments that seem to evoke the composer’s great ballets – especially Spartacus. The cheery brassy march that is To Victory is noticeably purged of the ferocity to be found in the turbulent flag-waving first movement. This could almost be a march by Arthur Bliss. There’s a brass band version of the suite on Lawo which Nick Barnard did not think much of.
Both Chandos and Capriccio have done extensive series of the film music of Shostakovich. No such thorough efforts have gone in Khachaturian’s direction. There has been this single disc from Naxos and some film suites from ASV. Indeed fifteen minutes of Loris Tjeknavorian’s take on The Battle of Stalingrad was issued on Alto. It was originally issued with the Second Symphony.
If the Stalingrad score’s gaudy virtues are embraced, often at the expense of the more understated and nuanced, Othello from 1955 is much more multi-faceted. This is as befits a presumably fairly classy Shakespeare film in a translation made by Boris Pasternak – he of Doctor Zhivago fame. The Prologue and Intermezzo is especially touching with a memorable tolling solo violin which returns in the finale. There’s also some extremely inventive writing in a mode recalling Prokofiev who had died two years before this film. The Desdemona Arioso is a swellingly emotional vocalise for soprano with orchestra with more than few links with the famous Adagio from Spartacus. The little Venice Nocturne (tr.4) is a lovely miniature, showing as does much of this score, that Khachaturian is much more than a peddler of crushingly loud music. The grey psychological aspects of Nocturnal Murder make way for the intensity of Othello’s Despair. The urgently rushing A Fit of Jealousy will have you thinking of the ruthlessly athletic music for Crassus in Spartacus. If Khachaturian indulges in a Hollywood-style choir in the Finale – well, why not, and it is by no means cheesy.
The recording is extremely good despite its 25 year vintage. The notes by the conductor are helpful in placing the score and the films from which this music is drawn.
I hope that at some time, in a world where there are seemingly hundreds of film channels, we will get to see these films.
There you have it: specialist territory maybe but two very welcome substantial suites from the world of Khachaturian’s film music.
– Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International
Khachaturian, like many another composer, major and lesser, in Soviet Russia, turned his hand to the cinema and did so pretty extensively. This was a great leveller, a ready source of income and a means of reaching out to mass audiences across the Union. The pity is that we see so few of those films. If we think at all about them we much more readily accept seeing them written off as the work of political hacks. The composer’s first effort – of eighteen - was the film Pepo written for the Armenian Film Board a few years before his First Symphony (1934). His last film dated from 1960.
Here are suites assembled from the music for two of Khachaturian’s cinema scores. They are played for all they are worth. Adherents of this composer and of twentieth century music of the USSR will want to hear how he fared in dealing with the silver screen.
The Battle of Stalingrad original score ran to some two hours. The titles give us some impression of what is featured in this suite: I. A City on the Volga - II. The Invasion; IIIa. Stalingrad in Flames; IIIb. The Enemy is doomed; IV. For our Motherland; To the Attack! - Eternal Glory to the Heroes; V. To Victory - VI. There is a Cliff on the Volga. Much of this is urgent and not specially subtle – then again this is not meant to be about subtlety. The music often has a furious seething energy typical of the militaristic bravado found in the music for the Roman legionaries in Spartacus. We also hear little half-echoes of The Great Gate of Kiev. There are some glowing interludes such as that to be found in the almost Bridge-like battlefield bleakness of tr. 3 and at the close of tr. 4 (Eternal Glory to the Heroes). There are also moments that seem to evoke the composer’s great ballets – especially Spartacus. The cheery brassy march that is To Victory is noticeably purged of the ferocity to be found in the turbulent flag-waving first movement. This could almost be a march by Arthur Bliss. There’s a brass band version of the suite on Lawo which Nick Barnard did not think much of.
Both Chandos and Capriccio have done extensive series of the film music of Shostakovich. No such thorough efforts have gone in Khachaturian’s direction. There has been this single disc from Naxos and some film suites from ASV. Indeed fifteen minutes of Loris Tjeknavorian’s take on The Battle of Stalingrad was issued on Alto. It was originally issued with the Second Symphony.
If the Stalingrad score’s gaudy virtues are embraced, often at the expense of the more understated and nuanced, Othello from 1955 is much more multi-faceted. This is as befits a presumably fairly classy Shakespeare film in a translation made by Boris Pasternak – he of Doctor Zhivago fame. The Prologue and Intermezzo is especially touching with a memorable tolling solo violin which returns in the finale. There’s also some extremely inventive writing in a mode recalling Prokofiev who had died two years before this film. The Desdemona Arioso is a swellingly emotional vocalise for soprano with orchestra with more than few links with the famous Adagio from Spartacus. The little Venice Nocturne (tr.4) is a lovely miniature, showing as does much of this score, that Khachaturian is much more than a peddler of crushingly loud music. The grey psychological aspects of Nocturnal Murder make way for the intensity of Othello’s Despair. The urgently rushing A Fit of Jealousy will have you thinking of the ruthlessly athletic music for Crassus in Spartacus. If Khachaturian indulges in a Hollywood-style choir in the Finale – well, why not, and it is by no means cheesy.
The recording is extremely good despite its 25 year vintage. The notes by the conductor are helpful in placing the score and the films from which this music is drawn.
I hope that at some time, in a world where there are seemingly hundreds of film channels, we will get to see these films.
There you have it: specialist territory maybe but two very welcome substantial suites from the world of Khachaturian’s film music.
– Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International
The Flute at the Court of Frederick the Great / Jean-Pierre Rampal
CBS Masterworks
CD
$17.99
May 07, 2009
A marvelously vivid recording that matches the freshness and immediacy of the music.
The King's strength as a performer is said to have been in Adagios (though there is evidence enough that this did not betoken lack of finger dexterity), and his own piece on this pleasant record is well able to hold its own with many another wind concerto of the day. This may tell us something about what was then a genuine musical vernacular; but such arguments aside, one can take pleasure in observing the contrast, one at the same time separating and unifying, between Frederick and his two companion composers. Quantz's Concerto is a nice, brisk piece with no nonsense about it. Rampal, with his particular gift for eighteenth-century flute music, deals with it admirably, pointing its highlights, touching on its bright rhythms without affectation, gracefully outlining the slow movement's melody without overstating claims. However, Benda's work shows what the differences are between a gifted amateur, a gifted professional and a composer of real individuality all working within the same idiom. The opening Allegro con brio has real brio, with an undercurrent of tensions that are present in another way in the warm, heartfelt Adagio un poco Andante; the finale is a little more conventional, but makes a bright ending to a most attractive work. No wonder poor Fritz preferred this civilized and humane discourse to the military ravings of his tyrannical father.
The recording matches the freshness and immediacy of the music. Rampal is set close, but the sound is marvellously vivid, and the subtle range of his tonguings in particular is caught as an expressive part of the music. The accompaniments are doubtless influenced by Rampal's own long experience in music of this period: they are as crisp and intelligent as his own playing.
-- Gramophone [3/1987]
The King's strength as a performer is said to have been in Adagios (though there is evidence enough that this did not betoken lack of finger dexterity), and his own piece on this pleasant record is well able to hold its own with many another wind concerto of the day. This may tell us something about what was then a genuine musical vernacular; but such arguments aside, one can take pleasure in observing the contrast, one at the same time separating and unifying, between Frederick and his two companion composers. Quantz's Concerto is a nice, brisk piece with no nonsense about it. Rampal, with his particular gift for eighteenth-century flute music, deals with it admirably, pointing its highlights, touching on its bright rhythms without affectation, gracefully outlining the slow movement's melody without overstating claims. However, Benda's work shows what the differences are between a gifted amateur, a gifted professional and a composer of real individuality all working within the same idiom. The opening Allegro con brio has real brio, with an undercurrent of tensions that are present in another way in the warm, heartfelt Adagio un poco Andante; the finale is a little more conventional, but makes a bright ending to a most attractive work. No wonder poor Fritz preferred this civilized and humane discourse to the military ravings of his tyrannical father.
The recording matches the freshness and immediacy of the music. Rampal is set close, but the sound is marvellously vivid, and the subtle range of his tonguings in particular is caught as an expressive part of the music. The accompaniments are doubtless influenced by Rampal's own long experience in music of this period: they are as crisp and intelligent as his own playing.
-- Gramophone [3/1987]
Mosonyi: Piano Works Vol 1 / István Kassai
Marco Polo
CD
$19.99
Mar 10, 1994
Mihály Mosonyi was a discovery for me—a contemporary of Liszt with the sensibility of Bartók; his piano études capture the essence of Hungarian élan without resorting to Lisztian bombast.
-- David Johnson, FANFARE [Want List, 1994]
Known in this country only from a recording of his piano concerto issued on a Candide LP two dozen years ago (it has since been transferred to CD), Mihály Mosonyi (1815-70) has never been entirely neglected by his fellow Hungarians. The annotator of these two Marco Polo discs, Dezö Legány, calls him “the third most important Hungarian composer of the nineteenth century,“ which may seem to be damning him with faint praise, except that one of the two more important of his countrymen was Franz Liszt. (The other, Ferenc Erkel, also has had a hard time establishing a major reputation outside the confines of Hungary, largely because his specialty was opera in the Magyar tongue, which doesn't travel well.) Mosonyi's posthumous reputation, such as it is, has been sustained by the many flattering things that Liszt said about him, both publicly and in letters to friends. Legány fails to pursue the Liszt connection in his sober, helpful, but heavily musicological notes. The annotator of the old Candide disc did a better job of quoting Liszt on Mosonyi. Among that flamboyant master's comments is this one: “The death of Mosonyi puts our hearts in mourning. It makes us sorrow also for the music of Hungary, of which Mosonyi was one of the noblest, most valiant and praiseworthy representatives.“ Praise came rather too cheaply for Liszt, but he followed it with the sincerest form of flattery, a noble piano elegy (“Mosonyi's Grablied“) in memory of his confrère, who had died too soon at the age of fifty-five. Two years before Mosonyi's death, Liszt had honored him with a transcription from one of his operas (he wrote two). After listening to these two albums—especially the one featuring solo piano music, which I am happy to note is styled “Volume 1“—I think hat Liszt was, indeed, on to a very good thing.
Mosonyi's name at birth, and for all but the last twelve years of his life, was Michael Brand (“Brandt“ according to Baker's Dictionary). It was only in 1858 that he Magyarized his first name and derived a new last name from Moson, the county in which he was born. With his new name he took on a new musical personality. His music had been heavily indebted to the Vienna Classicists (he spent some years as a private tutor in that city). After 1858 it took on a strongly Hungarian accent and at the same time acquired a slimmed-down, direct manner, shorn of much Romantic baggage—a manner that appeals to twentieth-century ears. Both the Brand and the Mosonyi aspects of this little-known composer are in evidence on these discs, the former on the orchestral one, the latter on the one devoted to his solo piano music.
Hungarian Children's World is not designed for children, unless their technique is fully developed. Though this set of twelve genre pieces is not in the virtuoso category, the technical demands call for a pianist of professional capability. The individual numbers vary from forty-eight seconds to five minutes and fifty seconds in length. Each has a programmatic title. “The Little Gypsy Girl“ is a three-tempo czárdás (Adagio-Allegro-Andante) “Lullaby“ ends on an unresolved suspension. “The Little Piper,“ with its elaborate melismas, seems more suitable to a cimbalom than a piano. “Children's Song“ is pure Robert Schumann at first, but launches startlingly into the verbunkos manner in its midsection. “The Story Man“ has several stories to tell: the piece shifts five times between Maestoso and Allegretto, each time bringing in a different set of themes. The last number, “Búcsú“ in Hungarian, is translated a “Kirchweih“ (“Church Ceremony“) in German, and a “Farewell Festival“ in English; whatever “Búcsú“ means, it makes a satisfactorily lively finale to a very attractive set of Kinderszenen.
Studies for Piano, for Development in the Performance of Hungarian Music is the wordy title of the second set of piano works on the disc. These are genuine progressive studies, starting with the simplest exercises and eventually reaching considerable technical complexity. Bartók followed the same procedure in his far more ambitious Mikrokosmos, which may well have borrowed some of its procedures from Mosonyi's set. (Bartók published several letters of Liszt to Mosonyi in the Musical Quarterly in 1921; he was well aware of the work of both men.) There are twenty pieces in this collection. They have less overt programs than the Hungarian Children's World, mostly settling for an adjective to establish mood, followed by the tempo (“Sadly: Adagio,“ “Joyfully: Vivace“). The Hungarian accent is more persistent here, discernible, often subtly, in all twenty pieces. (No. 25 piques my curiosity. It is called “In the style of Károly Fátyol,“ whose dates— obviously added by an editor, since he died after Mosonyi—are given as “1830-1888.“ I suspect he may have been a Gypsy musician. Can any of the readership enlighten me?)
As in Mikrokosmos, the early numbers, intended for beginners, tend to bore grown-ups (and children, too, for that matter). As more demands are placed upon the executant (from around No. 8 on) the listener's ear begins to prick up, and by the end of the series one is genuinely impressed by the melodic distinction, the clean, almost Poulenic-ish line, and the surprisingly modern approach of these pieces. There is not a trace of Romantic sensibility or bloat in them. Virtuosity for its own sake is eschewed throughout, in favor of a deep Hungarian expressivity. But Mosonyi know how to ignite the fireworks when he want to—as in No. 16, where the fingers fly in true Lisztian manner, and in the concluding study, a splendid and subtle Hungarian Rhapsody. Piano teachers, even if they are not Hungarian, would do well to introduce this toothsome set of études to their pupils.
István Kassai, thirty-five years of age, won first prize in the International Debussy Piano Competition around a decade ago. He plays Mosonyi like the aristocrat of the keyboard he obviously is. Engineer Endre Radany achieve a vividly lifelike reproduction of Kassai's touch and tone.
-- David Johnson, FANFARE [11/1994]
-- David Johnson, FANFARE [Want List, 1994]
Known in this country only from a recording of his piano concerto issued on a Candide LP two dozen years ago (it has since been transferred to CD), Mihály Mosonyi (1815-70) has never been entirely neglected by his fellow Hungarians. The annotator of these two Marco Polo discs, Dezö Legány, calls him “the third most important Hungarian composer of the nineteenth century,“ which may seem to be damning him with faint praise, except that one of the two more important of his countrymen was Franz Liszt. (The other, Ferenc Erkel, also has had a hard time establishing a major reputation outside the confines of Hungary, largely because his specialty was opera in the Magyar tongue, which doesn't travel well.) Mosonyi's posthumous reputation, such as it is, has been sustained by the many flattering things that Liszt said about him, both publicly and in letters to friends. Legány fails to pursue the Liszt connection in his sober, helpful, but heavily musicological notes. The annotator of the old Candide disc did a better job of quoting Liszt on Mosonyi. Among that flamboyant master's comments is this one: “The death of Mosonyi puts our hearts in mourning. It makes us sorrow also for the music of Hungary, of which Mosonyi was one of the noblest, most valiant and praiseworthy representatives.“ Praise came rather too cheaply for Liszt, but he followed it with the sincerest form of flattery, a noble piano elegy (“Mosonyi's Grablied“) in memory of his confrère, who had died too soon at the age of fifty-five. Two years before Mosonyi's death, Liszt had honored him with a transcription from one of his operas (he wrote two). After listening to these two albums—especially the one featuring solo piano music, which I am happy to note is styled “Volume 1“—I think hat Liszt was, indeed, on to a very good thing.
Mosonyi's name at birth, and for all but the last twelve years of his life, was Michael Brand (“Brandt“ according to Baker's Dictionary). It was only in 1858 that he Magyarized his first name and derived a new last name from Moson, the county in which he was born. With his new name he took on a new musical personality. His music had been heavily indebted to the Vienna Classicists (he spent some years as a private tutor in that city). After 1858 it took on a strongly Hungarian accent and at the same time acquired a slimmed-down, direct manner, shorn of much Romantic baggage—a manner that appeals to twentieth-century ears. Both the Brand and the Mosonyi aspects of this little-known composer are in evidence on these discs, the former on the orchestral one, the latter on the one devoted to his solo piano music.
Hungarian Children's World is not designed for children, unless their technique is fully developed. Though this set of twelve genre pieces is not in the virtuoso category, the technical demands call for a pianist of professional capability. The individual numbers vary from forty-eight seconds to five minutes and fifty seconds in length. Each has a programmatic title. “The Little Gypsy Girl“ is a three-tempo czárdás (Adagio-Allegro-Andante) “Lullaby“ ends on an unresolved suspension. “The Little Piper,“ with its elaborate melismas, seems more suitable to a cimbalom than a piano. “Children's Song“ is pure Robert Schumann at first, but launches startlingly into the verbunkos manner in its midsection. “The Story Man“ has several stories to tell: the piece shifts five times between Maestoso and Allegretto, each time bringing in a different set of themes. The last number, “Búcsú“ in Hungarian, is translated a “Kirchweih“ (“Church Ceremony“) in German, and a “Farewell Festival“ in English; whatever “Búcsú“ means, it makes a satisfactorily lively finale to a very attractive set of Kinderszenen.
Studies for Piano, for Development in the Performance of Hungarian Music is the wordy title of the second set of piano works on the disc. These are genuine progressive studies, starting with the simplest exercises and eventually reaching considerable technical complexity. Bartók followed the same procedure in his far more ambitious Mikrokosmos, which may well have borrowed some of its procedures from Mosonyi's set. (Bartók published several letters of Liszt to Mosonyi in the Musical Quarterly in 1921; he was well aware of the work of both men.) There are twenty pieces in this collection. They have less overt programs than the Hungarian Children's World, mostly settling for an adjective to establish mood, followed by the tempo (“Sadly: Adagio,“ “Joyfully: Vivace“). The Hungarian accent is more persistent here, discernible, often subtly, in all twenty pieces. (No. 25 piques my curiosity. It is called “In the style of Károly Fátyol,“ whose dates— obviously added by an editor, since he died after Mosonyi—are given as “1830-1888.“ I suspect he may have been a Gypsy musician. Can any of the readership enlighten me?)
As in Mikrokosmos, the early numbers, intended for beginners, tend to bore grown-ups (and children, too, for that matter). As more demands are placed upon the executant (from around No. 8 on) the listener's ear begins to prick up, and by the end of the series one is genuinely impressed by the melodic distinction, the clean, almost Poulenic-ish line, and the surprisingly modern approach of these pieces. There is not a trace of Romantic sensibility or bloat in them. Virtuosity for its own sake is eschewed throughout, in favor of a deep Hungarian expressivity. But Mosonyi know how to ignite the fireworks when he want to—as in No. 16, where the fingers fly in true Lisztian manner, and in the concluding study, a splendid and subtle Hungarian Rhapsody. Piano teachers, even if they are not Hungarian, would do well to introduce this toothsome set of études to their pupils.
István Kassai, thirty-five years of age, won first prize in the International Debussy Piano Competition around a decade ago. He plays Mosonyi like the aristocrat of the keyboard he obviously is. Engineer Endre Radany achieve a vividly lifelike reproduction of Kassai's touch and tone.
-- David Johnson, FANFARE [11/1994]
