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Penderecki: Concertos, Vol. 8 / Tworek, Jerzy Semkov Polish Sinfonia Iuventus Orchestra
DUX · May 2020CD$21.99 -
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Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 4 & 5; Creatures Of Prometheus: Excerpts / Munch, Boston Symphony Orchestra
ICA Classics · Feb 2011DVD$26.99 -
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Mozart: Piano Concertos, Vol. 3 - K. 450 & 451; Quintet K. 452 / Bavouzet
Chandos · Nov 2018CD$21.99 -
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Stravinsky: Le Baiser de la Fee; Bartok: Deux Images / Muti
Tchaikovsky was as much a part of Stravinsky's creative consciousness as Mozart was of Tchaikovsky's. All three composers meet in Le baiser de la fée ("The Fairy's Kiss"; 1928), where Tchaikovsky is at his most overtly Mozartian and Stravinsky at his most elegantly balletic. The score is based largely on Tchaikovsky piano pieces and songs; it was commissioned by the dancer Ida Rubinstein, while sections of it were later selected for a separate work, Divertimento, that went on to achieve rather more popularity than the complete ballet. More recordings, too; some of them of exceptional quality.
Riccardo Muti is, of course, himself a noted Tchaikovskian, and this admirable performance approximates the tone and lustre of, say, The Sleeping Beauty ballet. The very opening has lovingly stressed string accents and a feeling of 'miracles in the offing'. The ensuing Allegro sostenuto is more playful than biting, and while I would have welcomed a keener edge in the third section of Scene I (track 3) and a rather less. sedate approach to the ensuing Vivace agitato, the "Village Fête" is properly buoyant, the third scene's "By the Mill" nicely atmospheric (how utterly Tchaikovskian those oboes and clarinets) and the penultimate "Scene", with its painfully nostalgic references to None but the lonely heart, is played with appealing restraint. Still, it is at that point in particular that memories of Mravinsky's searing 1983 broadcast prompt a quick rush to the shelves, even though imperfect sound and the occasional technical slip-up preclude total rapture. Stravinsky, too, is memorable, a tighter, drier and occasionally more incisive option, while Järvi's characterization and superior sound serve to bolster a third option - and that is about the limit of the competition, at least for the moment. Muti's La Scala strings are sweetly expressive, whereas his winds and brass are not quite in the top league.
The sound is warm, enclosed and scrupulously balanced, a fairly intimate experience, quite appropriate to the music. Ultimately, I would place Muti more or less on a par with Järvi, but not quite the equal either of Mravinsky or of the composer himself.
As to the BartOk Two Pictures, Muti's performance of "In full flower" traces a romantic strain to contrast with Boulez's Debussian axis (see above). Bluebeard is obviously close to hand while the "Village dance" is sleek, witty and very well played, with not much in the way of a native Hungarian accent. It is a good performance and makes for an attractive, if somewhat unexpected, coupling for a worthy Baiser de la fée.
-- Robert Cowan, Gramophone [9/1995]
Bargiel: Complete Orchestral Music, Vol. 1
My first encounter with his music was fairly recent, as part of my survey of piano trios. Trio Parnassus have recorded his three piano trios on two MDG CDs, which are now difficult to obtain. You can obtain readily them as downloads, but they do not come with a booklet. I am generally resistant to this situation, especially where the composer is little known, but the samples of the trios that I heard were sufficiently encouraging to persuade me into a purchase. As far as I can tell, this is the first review on this site of Bargiel’s music.
The Prometheus overture was written while Bargiel was studying at Leipzig Conservatory. There is little doubt that it owes much to Beethoven’s similarly named overture, though Liszt’s tone poem Prometheus may also have had some influence. At over eighteen minutes, there is no doubt that it stretches its material too far, but it does have some splendid melodies. The orchestration is not as interesting as the other works presented here.
The premiere of Overture to a tragedy was conducted by Bargiel’s teacher, Julius Rietz, and led Hans von Bülow to write “Bargiel can claim the highest rank among Schumann’s followers after Joseph Joachim”. It was originally titled Overture to Romeo and Juliet, but changed before publication because it simply doesn’t have the emotional depth suited to the play. It has stylistic links to Schumann’s Manfred overture, but is a fine work in its right.
The Medea overture was his big success, with numerous performances around Germany and further afield, and led to his appointment as director of the music school in Rotterdam. The booklet links it to Schumann, though I more hear Mendelssohn. It builds from an ominously quiet opening into a series of increasingly dramatic surges, separated by short darkly lyrical moments. Personally, I prefer the Overture to a tragedy, but I can understand why it was so successful in its time.
The Symphony, with the exception of the second movement, is very much a case of “spot the influence”. The first movement, is very, very Beethovenian: imagine a blend of the fifth, sixth and seventh symphonies. Some of the melodies sound as though they are direct borrowings. The slow second movement is fortunately more original, though it does include what could be construed as a funeral march. It has a number of quite beautiful melodies, and some very appealing orchestral colours from the woodwinds and horns, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The Menuett that follows might be mistaken for an abandoned Schubert piece, while the final Allegro molto owes much to Haydn, though as reorchestrated by Beethoven. Lest I sound too critical, it is worth bearing in mind that Brahms, only five years younger than Bargiel, had not completed his first symphony by this time, and when he did, there was obvious homage to Beethoven in it as well.
In its early days, Naxos was known for using journeyman orchestras from eastern Europe, but even they didn’t go as far as Toccata has done recently, with a number of recordings based in the Siberian city of Omsk. The orchestra goes by two names: the the Omsk Philharmonic Orchestra at home (and on their website) and the Siberian Symphony Orchestra abroad. The performances are well beyond serviceable – I very much doubt we are likely to get another recording of these works soon, but it would take one of the top orchestras to make much more of this music.
The booklet is written by Dean Cáceres, who has written a biography of Bargiel, and hence provides comprehensive and informative notes. The sound quality is excellent, the delicate orchestral colours well defined and the climaxes imposing.
– MusicWeb International (David Barker)
SIR ARTHUR BLISS: THE DECCA ORIGINALS
Penderecki: Concertos, Vol. 8 / Tworek, Jerzy Semkov Polish Sinfonia Iuventus Orchestra
The Double Concerto for Viola and Cello was written in 2012 to mark the bicentenary of the Musikverein in Vienna. It is a work with a clearly defined, neo-romantic architecture. Even though the composer employs profuse semi-tones as a form-shaping element, the music also abounds in consonances that soften the many tensions therein. The narration’s starting point is determined by the opening cantabile for the two solo instruments, which is of a romantic character. As the music proceeds, the two architectural planes start to be mutually interwoven, with a free dialogue between them lasting until the end of the piece. It is worth drawing the listener’s attention to the highly inventive solo cadenzas that are introduced by the composer in order to differentiate the mood of the work’s various sections. The version for accordion and orchestra which is featured in the present recording casts a fresh light on the composition. All the contrasts that are responsible for the structural fragmentation unexpectedly gain even sharper contours. Moreover, all the solo interludes, in view of the distinctly different character of the accordion, make the polemics between the neo-romantic and playful aesthetics even more exciting. Concerto per flauto ed orchestra da camera was written in 1992. Commissioned by L’Orchestre de Chambre de Lausanne, it was dedicated to flautist Jean-Pierre Rampal. The work falls into two extensive movements: Andante and Allegro con brio. Lyrical fragments of a somewhat impressionistic provenance predominate in the first movement. In contrast to the Double Concerto for Viola and Cello, this work is notable for its highly autonomous solo part, which on the one hand constitutes an intriguing counterpoint with the orchestral interludes, while on the other being very much to the forefront. Brief but strongly chromaticised melodic motifs are an important element that shapes the architecture of the first movement.
Mendelssohn: String Quartets No 1 & 2 / Juilliard Quartet
Can a chamber group have a musical identity that endures despite changes in personnel, the way an orchestra can? On the basis of the CD at hand, I'd have to say so. With the retirement of violinist Robert Mann in 1997 after 51 years (!), the Juilliard String Quartet has now, finally, turned over all its original players. Joel Smirnoff, for 11 years the group's second violinist, has moved confidently into Mann's chair, and Ronald Copes joined the quartet to take Smirnoff's old position. But listening to this excellent new disc of two Mendelssohn works, then to the Juilliard's late 70s recording of a Haydn op. 20 quartet (with the current violist and cellist, Samuel Rhodes and Joel Krosnick) and then to Beethoven's op. 18, no. 1, from a decade before (with an earlier bottom half of the quartet), I hear the same characteristic blend of refinement and soulfulness, the evolution of the lineup notwithstanding. Encountering the reconstituted Juilliard in the flesh was a highlight of last year's concert season for me; chamber music fans clearly have a lot to look forward to.
The E?-Major quartet gets a fairly relaxed reading, though the playing is certainly never slack. There's a natural ebb and flow to tempos in the opening movement and, in the second, a wonderful variety of textures is realized. In the central Allegretto of the movement, the Juilliard achieves a Midsummer Nights Dream sort of fleetness. The Andante is indeed espressivo without becoming overwrought. The swirling tarantellalike finale is presented with an understated virtuosity, before a peaceful closing. The A-Minor work is played with a greater level of emotional intensity. Dynamic contrasts are effective—the Juilliard can turn on a dime—and Smirnoff's leadership in the opening Allegro is both fervent and accurate. We hear flawless balances in the Intermezzo, and beautiful shaping of the simple thematic materials. The quartet is, again, wonderfully light on its feet with the quicksilver middle portion of the movement. For the concluding movement, Smirnoff satisfies in his solo passages with assured, beautifully contoured playing, and the ending, in which Mendelssohn quotes from his song Frage, as he does at the very beginning of the work, is quite moving.
Sony's string sound is warm and sweet, without a touch of stridency. The recording, made at the Giandomenico Studios in Collingswood, New Jersey, is close-up and involving, but still breathes. The packaging is attractive, with photos of the musicians in a parklike setting, and informed, well-written notes that point up the influence of Beethoven on these youthful compositions.
Among recent versions of the Mendelssohn quartets, those from Vienna's Artis Quartet, on Accord, have received high marks in Fanfare. I like them, too: The Artis offers direct, energetic performances, taking consistently faster tempos than the American players. The Juilliard may please a bit more in the slow movements. I'd not want to be without either. Listeners on a budget can consider the three discs of Mendelssohn's music for string quartet from Naxos, performances by the Aurora Quartet (four musicians from the San Francisco Symphony) that received a laudatory notice from John Wiser in Fanfare 18:2. Although their readings of ops. 12 and 13 are thoroughly convincing, they don't, for me, rise to the level of either the Artis or the Juilliard, and the sonics are less pleasing.
The Sony disc is heartily recommended. The Juilliard Quartet is back.
-- Andrew Quint, Fanfare [5-6/1999]
Geminiani: Sonatas Vol 1 / Mosca, Pianca, Paronuzzi
GEMINIANI Violin sonatas, op. 4/1, 3, 6, 7, 10, 12 • Liana Mosca (vn); Antonio Mosca (vc); Luca Pianca (archlute); Giorgio Paronuzzi (hpd) (period instruments) • STRADIVARIUS 33853 (67:41)
William S. Newman, in his massive study of the Baroque sonata, listed Francesco Geminiani’s sonatas for violin and continuo (op. 1 from 1716 and op. 4 from two decades later) and for violin and cello (op. 5) and judged Geminiani’s knowledge of the violin to equal that of Giuseppe Tartini or Pietro Locatelli (the latter of whom, like Geminiani, had been a pupil of Arcangelo Corelli, though a more technically adventurous one), but considered his style to be more conservative. Of the six sonatas presented by Liana Mosca, Antonio Mosca (her father), Luca Pianca, and Georgio Paronuzzi, all but two consist of four movements (the others numbering three); none of the movements’ titles give a hint of their dance-like elements or rondo forms. Almost all the sonatas have been cast in major keys. Geminiani would later rework six of the 12 sonatas of op. 4 (including No. 1 and No. 7 from Stradivarius’s collection) as concerti grossi. While Mosca remarks in a personal note in the booklet that Geminani’s sonatas from op. 4 haven’t received a great deal of attention, Rüdiger Lotter included the First, Eighth, Ninth, and 10th (two from Mosca’s selection) in a program released on Oehms 356 that also included several sonatas from Antonio Maria Veracini’s op. 1 ( Fanfare 29:1).
Geminiani revised the sonatas of his op. 1 at about the same time as he published op. 4 and included in the new edition of op. 1 the kinds of ornaments that make so striking an impression in Mosca’s performance of op. 4, as in the First Sonata’s Adagio (and also that of the Third Sonata). In that movement, she also displays a rhythmic and dynamic flexibility to create a capricious expressive sensibility that apparently suits not only the works themselves but Geminiani’s reputation as an expressive performer (among some: Tartini called him il furibondo , while John Hawkins thought he lacked the fire of the later violinists of his era). The sonata’s second movement isn’t fugal; it depends for its effect on the piquancy of its homophonic lines, of which Mosca gives a tangy account. The continuo provides an ingratiating strumming accompaniment in the Largo, a backdrop against which Mosca makes at times startling adjustments to the solo’s dynamic level; the finale includes surprises after dramatic pauses, and Mosca times them with the acute sensibility of a persuasive rhetorician. In general, she produces a twangy though by no means sharp-edged tone from her violin (and a perhaps surprisingly full one from its lower registers), described as a Venetian instrument from about 1750.
Mosca and the ensemble bring vivacious wit to the second movement of the Seventh Sonata and its jaunty subject (do these suggest the stolidity for which Geminiani has sometimes been condemned?) and spice to the ornamentation of the sonata’s third movement, Moderato. The Adagio of the Third Sonata showcases, as well as the encrustations of ornamentation mentioned earlier, the sudden gestures that make the sonatas sound inventive, at least from an expressive point of view (that sense of invention, continues, reaching almost to the level of improvisation, in the ensuing Allegro). The Sixth Sonata, again in D Major, at first seems almost somber compared to the three that precede it on the program, until Mosca dispels whatever gloom might have enshrouded it with her bright gaiety in the second movement; similarly, she shifts from the almost romantic sensibility of the sonata’s Andante to crisp Gallic sprightliness (Geminiani spent time in Paris) in the final movement, recalling a similar vein in the works of Jean-Marie Leclair (also a musical descendent of Corelli, this time through Giovanni Battista Somis). The two three-movement sonatas omit the slow movement; what they lose in affetuoso they gain in starchiness (although the last Allegro of the 10th Sonata includes a slow episode that almost replaces the missing movement). A multisectional fantasy serves as the first movement of the 12th Sonata’s three.
Lotter deploys a more astringent tone in his recording but he hardly stints on ornamental or expressive detail. Still, Mosca’s unaffected geniality, dramatic Luftpausen , and rhetorical sensibility breathe extra life into her performances.
With its clean recorded sound, its imaginative performances, and its ingratiating literature, Mosca’s selection of Geminiani’s sonatas might serve either as a favorable introduction to the works of the composer for those who aren’t familiar with him or an enjoyable reminder for those who know him that he brought more than Corelli’s teachings to London. Strongly recommended to all types of listeners.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
Brahms: Symphonies No 1-4 / Zinman, Tonhalle Orchestra Zurich
Are there a few quibbles? Naturally. The introduction to the First symphony's finale lacks mystery, while the coda of the Second symphony's finale would have benefited from slightly more prominent brass and a surge of additional energy from the podium. On the other hand, the finale of the Third never has sounded better, the coda tremendously fulfilling, while the Fourth's passacaglia is really imposing, but also energetic. Here the trombones truly make their presence felt. In short, this set stands with the best, and I suspect its stature will only grow over time.
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
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Brahms had a special connection with Zurich. He attended the opening of the Tonhalle, the city’s famous concert hall, in 1895 and was the only living composer to be featured on the ceiling painting; it’s reproduced in the booklet for this set, part of the altogether splendid packaging. The latter-day descendants of the orchestra for that opening concert have here given us a cycle of symphonies with which I am sure the composer would have been very pleased.
The first thing that strikes you is the beauty and colour of the playing. Both times I’ve heard them live, it’s the Tonhalle strings that have impressed me most, rich and rounded, oozing with character. This makes them ideal for Brahms. The mellow beauty of the Second’s first movement suits them perfectly, but they also develop a distinctive sheen, even a slight hard edge, for the more high energy moments, such as the opening movement of the First or the invigorating downward sweep that opens the Third. There is also some sensational wind playing and some first rate solos, such as the oboe in the First and the clarinet in the slow movements of the Third and Fourth. The playing alone would be worth the asking price, but it’s Zinman’s dynamic conducting that holds the set together. His reading of each symphony carries a clear sense of a transformational journey which, for me, went beyond the ordinary. The transition from darkness to light in the First is obvious, but Zinman breaks it down still further so that there is ebb and flow in each movement: in the first movement’s Allegro, for example, there is an almost tangible feeling of the drama and tension of the first subject being tamed by the gentler lyricism of the second. The Second carries a steady trajectory towards the celebration of the finale, but Zinman takes this movement just a touch slower than many so that the ebullience is contained within a certain set of rules. The Third also seems to go on a steady path from the exhilaration of the opening to an increasing sense of melancholy which is almost - but not quite - solved by the finale. Only in the first two movements of the Fourth was that sense of direction a little lacking. The tension and energy ups dramatically with the Scherzo and the final Passacaglia becomes so intense as to be almost unbearable.
It helps that these live recordings were all taped within two days, so we have here an unusually coherent reading of Brahms’ symphonic oeuvre. Sections of the press have damned this set with faint praise, calling it a safe middle-of-the-road Brahms cycle, but for me it’s much more than that: it’s an intelligent, well argued reading of this great cycle which stands comparison with any Brahms set that has come my way in recent years. Zinman is very much in the traditional mould of Brahms interpreters, eschewing the approaches of Harnoncourt or Gardiner, but he argues convincingly that there is still a place for this in our 21st century and he certainly carried me along with him. The sound, by the way, is excellent, rich and bloomy with plenty of clarity for the inner voices.
Incidentally, for those who are interested in such things, Zinman observes all the exposition repeats. Live as these recordings are, the audience is exceptionally well behaved and there is not a hint of a cough throughout. Applause, and there must have been much, is also absent. My only quibble is that the CDs give us barely any time to digest one movement before the next begins, surely an unnecessary compression of space when there is so much spare time on each disc.
-- Simon Thompson, MusicWeb International
Bax: Orchestral Works Vol 9 / Bryden Thomson, London PO
BAX The Truth about the Russian Dancers. From Dusk till Dawn • Bryden Thomson, cond; London PO • CHANDOS 10457 (67:12)
This is Volume 9 of Chandos’s midprice reissues of Bryden Thomson’s extensive survey of the orchestral music of Arnold Bax. The good news for Bax fans is that these are two obscure but major works showcasing the composer’s distinctive and highly personal orchestral style. The bad news is that the music is not qualitatively on the same level as any of his symphonies or major tone poems. From Dusk till Dawn and The Truth about the Russian Dancers were composed respectively in 1917 and 1920 when Sergei Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes visited London and immediately captured Bax’s artistic imagination. The Truth about the Russian Dancers (at 46 minutes) is a major score (despite its ridiculous plot), and both works are replete with Bax’s typical colorful orchestration. These ballets also prove that Bax is not to be compared with Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, or Delibes as a melodist. Nevertheless, both pieces have their melodic moments. The lengthy and pivotal “Dance of Motherhood” from The Truth about the Russian Dancers is a characteristic Baxian lyrical effusion. “Karissima’s Farewell” is suitably dramatic in a gentle sort of way, and the final allegro vivace dance achieves a level of dramatic urgency worthy of Prokofiev, who seems to be Bax’s principal influence in these ballets. From Dusk till Dawn contains several examples of lovely tone-painting, such as the aptly titled “Summer Night at the Window.” This may not represent Bax at his best, but there is plenty of gorgeously orchestrated, never-before recorded music here for the adventurous listener.
Bryden Thomson is obviously totally committed to Bax and conducts the music with plenty of rhythmic vitality. The sound is unequivocally Chandos, but on the top end of their game. Any Bax-lover will thoroughly enjoy this worthy presentation of some of his virtually unknown ballet music.
FANFARE: Arthur Lintgen
Levitzki: Complete Works for Solo Piano / Glebov
Trust Toccata Classics to approach these three names from one of the golden ages of pianism from an unaccustomed angle. All three wrote piano music under the nurturing that being a great world-touring pianist brings. Levitzki's haughty Valse de concert - one of many waltzes from his pen - has plenty of sentimental fancy in play. There's a touching Valse in A Major, a slow motion swirling Arabesque Valsante and a nice Valse Tzigane. The dance theme continues with a Meissen china Gavotte, a trilling and tear-unfocused Enchanted Nymph and a Dance of the Doll that bears the stamp of ragtime.
There's not a lot of Gabrilowitsch but it is classy. The Romance is touching and perfumed with a romance that sweeps along in Chopin-like grandeur. A deliberate pulse is often favored and this seems to imply cool calculation rather than anything impulsive. The Gavotte, rather like the one by Levitzki, has a predictably antique surface. The Feuillet is successful - a vehicle for the finer emotions; nothing cheap and nothing melodramatic.
I was less impressed with the Friedman arrangements. The four offered up seem prettified and of them only the Couperin, with its grace-note delights and ice-palace fantasy, holds the attention. The disc concludes with no fewer than eleven original works by Friedman. The four Preludes are impressive: No. 1: subtle with delicately chiming dissonances and a sleepy sign-off; No. 2: alive with swirling activity; No. 3: bell-tower Rachmaninov echoes but too short-breathed and No. 4: a quick pulsed and capricious brevity. The selection of Études include a trillingly liquid charmer (No.1 ), an exercise in rapid tremolo (No. 2), a luxuriously emotional essay presented in velvet (No. 4), a sentimental Allegro, con abandono (No. 9), a Godowsky-style study in decorative intricacy, a stormy tempest of the heart, very much in the Rachmaninovian manner (No. 11); likewise the final one (No. 16).
This very well-packed CD is further evidence that Toccata continues to enrich the classical listening experience with unexpected perspectives. Where Toccata lead others may follow. Not everything from these three contemporaries has striking musical substance but there is much to impress and where it does not impress it certainly delights.
– MusicWeb International (Rob Barnett)
Auryn's Haydn Vol 11 Of 14 - Op. 71 / Auryn Quartet
HAYDN String Quartets, op. 55 • Auryn Qrt • TACET 170 (70:37)
The second subgroup of “Tost” quartets is my first acquaintance with this cycle, which is now at a well-advanced stage. That the Auryn is a class act is evident from the word go in No. 1 in A: alert, well focused, and tight-knit in ensemble. The first violin is often primus inter pares in these works, and his virtuoso flights are dispatched with shapely panache and a well-judged degree of soloistic freedom. The second-half repeat is observed (and consistently throughout the set). The Adagio is taken at a nicely flowing pace, its airy lyricism beautifully conveyed. The marvelous cadenza juggernaut at bars 61 ff. is impressively realized in its combination of slowly gathering weight with improvisatory freedom. The Minuet goes at a buoyant one to the bar, and the finale has an irresistible surging flow. Comparison with their former mentors, the Amadeus (DG), is intriguing: the old Anglicized Germans attack the first movement with a larger-than-life vibrancy that would be hard for anyone to match, and makes the Auryn sound a little pallid by comparison (although its response to dynamic nuances is keen, its deliberate underplaying of single fortes is occasionally overdone). The Amadeus displays an earthier richness in the Adagio, but its Minuet is heavier and its finale has less light and shade than its protégés.
No. 2 in F Minor (the celebrated “Razor” quartet, whose hoary old anecdote is debunked in the notes) struck me as less successful overall; the opening double variations are authoritatively dispatched, but with a tendency to a kind of gliding suaveness—very beautiful in its way, but I find myself craving more friction, or resistance, to the tone (especially the first violin in the major-mode variations). More rhythmic and tonal bite would again not go amiss in the second-movement Allegro, though its oppressively eerie atmosphere is well caught. But the strict contrapuntal “ars combinatorial” of the Minuet is excessively smoothed out, imparting an inappropriately tentative feeling. The performance finds perfect form, though, in an exciting account of the F-Major Presto finale, whose elusive character, alternately tensely conspiratorial and swashbuckling, is very well captured. By way of comparison, I prefer the greater rhythmic solidity and tonal weight of the Angeles Quartet (Philips) in three movements out of four, but its staid finale is no match for the Auryn.
The sinuous first movement of No. 3 in B? receives a subtle, nuanced performance, occasionally slightly over-ethereal in feeling (see the tense first violin/cello dialogue of the second theme—here the Auryn is the polar opposite of the Aeolian [Decca], which goes over the line to an unattractive grittiness; the Tatrai [Hungaroton] strikes a nice balance in its understated brand of deadpan rusticity). The slow movement is beautifully done, with wonderfully soaring flights from the first violin. Once again, its Presto finale finds the requisite headlong drive—truly exhilarating!
The recording is beautifully balanced and natural. All in all, an impressive release that will be self-recommending to collectors of the series, or to anyone wanting a single disc of these incomparable masterpieces.
FANFARE: Boyd Pomeroy
Erlebach, Fischer, Kusser & Fischer: Ouvertures & Suites
Telemann, Mozart, Britten & Kikta: Horn Universe – Works for
EROS & SUBTILITAS
String Quartets By Felix & Fanny Mendelssohn / Merel Quartet
MENDELSSOHN String Quartet in f, op. 80. 4 Pieces for String Quartet, op. 81. MENDELSSOHN-HENSEL String Quartet in E? • Merel Qt • GENUIN GEN 11204 (69:26)
The pairing of the two chief works on this disc is most apt: the only string quartet by Fanny Mendelssohn-Hensel and the last string quartet by brother Felix, the latter penned in 1847 to express his terrible grief over her tragically early death, with his own following shortly thereafter. They are supplemented by the four pieces of the op. 81, of which the first two ( Andante and Scherzo ) also date from 1847, the third ( Capriccio ) from 1843, and the last ( Fuga ) from 1827; they were published together posthumously. Mendelssohn’s op. 80 surely needs no introduction from me; suffice it to say that it is to my mind his greatest masterwork among his chamber pieces, and its heartfelt searing drama completely refutes the absurd canard that its creator was content with producing works of faultless formal elegance but lacking in expressive depth. The Mendelssohn-Hensel work, timing out at about 20 minutes, is finely wrought and delicate. It opens with a genteel and placid Allegro ma non troppo, moves on to a graceful but stately Allegretto and slightly pensive (and slightly overlong) Romanze, and closes with a spirited and energetic Allegro molto vivace. As always, the compositional style is markedly similar to that of her brother, somewhat less imaginative melodically and harmonically but nonetheless of considerable quality and having distinct touches of individuality. One can only wonder about and regret what she might have produced but did not due to her untimely demise and the social restrictions of her era.
The Merel Quartet of Zurich, performing on modern instruments but with interpretive touches clearly informed by period-instrument practices (leaner tone and use of reduced vibrato), presents top-notch performances all around. The Mendelssohn-Hensel quartet is given a warmly sympathetic reading; the rendition of the Mendelssohn op. 80 has a knife-edge tension and keenness that unashamedly bears comparison to the best recorded competition, and the members of the op. 81 foursome are treated as substantial works in their own right rather than as mere afterthoughts. The recorded sound has a bright, crisp immediacy without harshness.
I presume that most collectors already have at least one recording of the op. 80 and are more likely to consider acquiring this disc for the Mendelssohn-Hensel quartet, for which alternatives are scarce. I would avoid the Asasello Quartet on Avi, the Lafayette Quartet on CBC Musica Viva (currently out of print, but available as an MP3 download), and the Fanny Mendelssohn Quartet on Troubadisc (diffidently reviewed by David Johnson in Fanfare 18:1, though he recommended the accompanying performance of her trio), all of which are slack or overly cautious and lackluster. That leaves only the Erato Quartet on cpo, a performance strongly recommended by John W. Lambert in 23:5. That is a fine interpretation, but very different from this one; it takes an overtly big-boned romantic approach, and is set in an extremely resonant recording acoustic, with the result sounding more like a small string ensemble than a quartet. That disc is filled out by the quartets of two now quite obscure women composers, Maddalena Laura Lombardini-Sirmen and Emilie Mayer. One’s choice between the cpo disc and the present one will therefore be determined by preferences in pairings, interpretive approach, and sonic ambience. For anyone desiring alternative recommendations for the op. 80 and 81 of Felix, I would turn to the complete quartet cycles by either the Leipzig or Emerson quartets; see the excellent summary of their respective strengths by Burton Rothleder in his review of the Leipzig cycle (my own preference) in 32:6.
FANFARE: James A. Altena
Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 4 & 5; Creatures Of Prometheus: Excerpts / Munch, Boston Symphony Orchestra
R E V I E W:
All of a sudden, Charles Munch's star seems to be once again in the ascendant. Sony has recently reissued a swathe of his RCA back catalogue on its new Sony Originals label, including his Debussy orchestral works and his recordings of the Dvorák and Walton cello concertos with Piatigorsky. Coming soon in April is an eight disc box set on RCA Classical Masters that brings together recordings of Brahms, Schubert, Schumann and Mendelssohn symphonies and other orchestral works … and at a ridiculously low price. Meanwhile, the new independent label, ICA Classics, has brought to market three DVDs of Munch in concert with his Boston Symphony Orchestra. This Beethoven DVD and its companions (a DVD of Debussy and Ravel, and a DVD of Franck, Faure and Wagner) capture live broadcasts that have not been seen since they first went to air in the late 1950s and early 1960s.
I have always been in two minds about Munch's Beethoven. His Boston Beethoven 9 for RCA - one of those new Sony Originals reissues - 88697702992 - is one of my favourite recordings of the work. It is unsubtle, oddly up close and spotlit and never plumbs the depths of piano let alone pianissimo, but it is absolutely thrilling from first note to last and very moving. His Beethoven 5, however, is one of the most enduring disappointments of my CD collection. I pull it out every year or so to see if this time I will find something magical in the performance, and each year I hear scrappy and dynamically flat orchestral playing and an interpretation lacking in nuance.
What a delight it was, then, to listen to and watch the performance of the 5 th that closes this DVD. Here is the Munch reading I had been listening for in vain: a dramatic and rhetorical performance; a performance that builds inexorably towards the final peroration; a performance of contrast held together by flexible but fundamentally solid tempi; a performance abounding in spontaneous touches, like the extra space and freedom he affords his oboist, Ralph Gomberg, for his solo in the first movement. It is wonderful to hear, and also great fun to watch Munch's facial expressions and the way his baton drops when the dynamics do so that he seems to be conducting with shoulder movements rather than the invisible stick that is beating time around his knees.
As good as the 5 th is, it is the 4 th that for me is the highlight here. Munch cuts an unexpectedly dour figure in the adagio introduction to the first movement of the Fourth Symphony. If it weren't for the expansive baton strokes and the white hair, you could almost believe you were watching Fritz Reiner. The allegro ignites, and Munch seems himself once more. Is it a trick of the lens, or is his baton bent a little towards its tip? My goodness, he does shake it about a bit in the allegros! Beethoven's games with rhythm in this symphony are right up Munch's street. His knack of pushing a performance forward and building momentum suits this symphony beautifully. There is a bounce and swagger to the third movement that you just won't hear elsewhere and the finale fizzes.
The music from Beethoven's Prometheus ballet is an interesting inclusion. The liner-notes make much of the fact that Munch hardly ever played this music, so the conductor's most ardent admirers will no doubt need to acquire this DVD to round out their collected discographies. The Overture receives a scintillating performance, right from the whip-crack of the opening staccato chords. I was less impressed by the other two selections from the ballet, though the adagio shows off the orchestra's flute, bassoon, cello and harp. The mono sound does their magnificent playing full justice.
The picture quality of the monochrome source tapes is variable. The Prometheus footage has a tendency to fog and fish bowl curvature. The opening of the Fourth Symphony is disfigured by static lines. The camera work itself is conventional, but the editing strikes a fair balance between footage of the orchestra and the man on the podium. Fortunately the mono sound is clear and carries fair detail. Only at the close of the 5 th does the music sound a little cramped in its single channel.
Anyone with an interest in Munch and his magnificent Boston band will find this DVD fascinating.
-- Tim Perry, MusicWeb International
Between Here and Nowhere
Mozart: Piano Concertos, Vol. 3 - K. 450 & 451; Quintet K. 452 / Bavouzet
This third volume in the series from the electrifying combination of Jean-Efflam Bavouzet and Manchester Camerata under Gabor Takacs-Nagy explores the final two of the six piano concertos of the year 1784, on which Mozart staked his reputation as both a performer and composer. Alongside these works features the pioneering Quintet for Piano and Winds, also from 1784, the first written for this combination of instruments and a work which Mozart regarded as his finest to date. The consecutive Kochel numbers of the three piano works hint at a remarkable story: not only were they all written in the same extraordinarily productive year, but all were completed in the same month, March, when Mozart was just twenty-eight years old. The two concertos form a pair, and in letters to his father Mozart makes it clear that he wrote them for his own performance: “Nobody but I owns these new concertos in B flat and D,” adding in another letter, two weeks later, “I consider them both to be concertos which make one sweat.” Heard in this context, Bavouzet’s playing is all the more astonishing.
REVIEWS:
Jean-Efflam Bavouzet has joined forces with Gábor Takács-Nagy and the Manchester Camerata to record the complete Mozart piano concertos. This is the third volume in the series. Bavouzet has won awards for his recordings of Haydn, Debussy, Prokofiev and Grieg. This recording shows that he is also a born Mozartian.
The three works on this recording all date from 1784 when Mozart was newly married and beginning to forge a freelance career for himself. The Piano Concerto in D Major K451 uses trumpets with timpani and has a distinctive military character. Takács-Nagy’s tempo is spot on in the opening movement marked Allegro assai. He and the Manchester Camerata open the movement with vibrancy and dynamism, and bring an infectious enthusiasm to Mozart’s springy dotted rhythms. Bavouzet’s phrasing and passagework are a model of classical decorum, and he uses subtle rubato to superb effect. There is excellent interplay between piano and orchestra, with phrases passing seamlessly between the players. The music is beautifully characterised. The militaristic opening theme gives way to the camp, whimsical second subject. The Manchester Camerata’s woodwind section are enchanting at the start of the slow movement. Bavouzet brings charm and restraint to the movement before giving us a moment of heart-stopping poetry in the interlude before the return of the opening them. The finale has enormous fizz and sparkle. There is tight, spirited interplay between soloist and orchestra. Bavouzet brings enormous energy to the increasingly elaborate passagework. It is impossible not to be swept along with the joys of music-making.
This is an outstanding recording and is worthy to sit alongside the great Mozart concerto recordings such as those by Perahia and Uchida.
-- MusicWeb International
Hummel: Sonata In E Flat Major, Sonata In F Major / Alexander-Max
HUMMEL Piano Sonatas: No. 2 in E?; No. 3 in f. Bagatelle in A?, “La contemplazione” • Susan Alexander-Max (fp) (period instrument) • CHANDOS 765 (67:11)
Johann Nepomuk Hummel (1778–1837) is an important transitional composer, especially from a pianistic viewpoint, between the late-18th and early-19th centuries; he is, unfortunately, also a composer who is underrepresented in the recording catalog. Among currently available recordings, Stephen Hough seems to be the only figure of international standing performing today to have devoted any effort to him. Two recordings that I think have stood out in the last 20 years have been the aforementioned one by Stephen Hough of three sonatas for Hyperion (67390), recorded back in 2003, and Dana Protopopescu’s album for Koch Discover (920237) of three sonatas, recorded in 1995. They both bring a virtuoso technique and a good musical sensibility.
Though I am no fan of the fortepiano, Alexander-Max is a good advocate for both the instrument and the repertoire. Her playing has sensitivity and a good attention to articulation and detail. Sometimes though, it is her attention to these small elements that hampers the overall flow of the music. Her tempos in the fast movements tend to be on the slow side: this provides her ample opportunity to bring out many details, but also tends to make the rapid scale and arpeggio patterns sound a bit sluggish. In comparing just the timings of the final movement of the F-Minor Sonata’s finale, marked Presto , Alexander-Max clocks in at 5:22 to Hough’s 3:59! There is no repeat in this movement, so the temporal difference is not reflected in the omission of any material. Even Protopopescu, who does not play this movement nearly as fast as Hough, clocks in around 5: 01—still over 20 seconds faster than Alexander-Max.
Tempo is not the only factor that makes the fast movements seem sluggish though; it is also the lack of intensity brought to many of the figurational patterns that lead to important beats. The focus for example in the E? Sonata’s finale, this time marked Allegro con spirito , seems to be more on the clarity of notes than on the constant surging motion. In the passage from 00:20 to 00:24, Hummel marks a crescendo moving from piano to forte in the span of two measures. In this performance, though a small crescendo does exist, the kind that Hummel requires does not. The tension and release inherent in the sudden dynamic buildup and rest, held with a fermata that follows this passage, is lost. Though the passagework is clean and articulate, the musical excitement is absent. There is a lack of drama.
There are many good aspects to this album as well. My favorite piece that the pianist plays here is the Bagatelle in A?. Marked Larghetto , it is a fantasy in which much of the beginning material comes back with added figuration. Here, Alexander-Max chooses not only a good tempo, one that flows and allows the movement to progress naturally, but also brings all of her interpretative skills to the fore. She maintains an acute sense of articulation and voicing, and a quality of freedom, almost improvisatory at times—all essential for a fantasy. Her ending pianissimo is as delicate and beautiful as any I’ve heard.
This is a fine addition to the recorded discography of Hummel’s music. I would especially recommend it for period-instrument enthusiasts, though the two previously mentioned recordings, by Hough and Protopopescu—both on modern grand pianos—provide good, in some cases excellent, readings of this much-neglected repertoire.
FANFARE: Scott Noriega
Bartók: Piano Concertos / Aimard, Salonen, San Francisco Symphony
Pianist Pierre-Laurent Aimard joins forces with the San Francisco Symphony and Music Director Esa-Pekka Salonen for a recording of Bartók’s complete piano concertos. A pianist himself; Bartók imbued his three concertos with multiple aspects of his compositional persona; ranging from complex and innovative (the First) to exuberant (the Second) and serene (the Third). The result is a fascinating slice of his musical life. This all-Bartók release marks the first Pentatone collaboration between Esa-Pekka Salonen and the San Francisco Symphony; an ensemble he has reshaped through creative performance concepts and expansive new media projects.
A renowned champion of twentieth-century music; Pierre-Laurent Aimard has released multiple acclaimed albums in his exclusive contract with Pentatone; including Messiaen’s Catalogue d’Oiseaux (2018) and Visions de l’Amen (2022); along with Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata & Eroica Variations (2021). He also joined Tamara Stefanovich in Etudes and Frames (2023); with music by Vassos Nicolaou. Salonen returns to the label for the first time since his recording of Stravinsky’s Perséphone (2018); the San Francisco Symphony previously appeared on the 2005 Pentatone release Young America.
REVIEWS:
You know just within a couple of minutes these recordings are going to be special. As Salonen and the San Francisco Symphony sweep thrillingly into the First Piano Concerto’s Allegro, Pierre-Laurent Aimard luxuriates in the space they leave him on a superbly recorded disc…‘Definitive’ is a daft word to use about an interpretation. How can we truly know? But superlative this absolutely is.
-- The Sunday Times (★★★★★)
Ultimately, then, we’ve got something special here: a fresh take on some canonic works by a conductor and soloist whose bread-and-butter is this very fare. It’s an undertaking that flatters all parties involved musically, technically, and intellectually. Best of all, it draws out the latent mellifluousness of Bartók’s writing, even when, outwardly, that’s at its most hard-edged.
-- The Arts Fuse
In the second concerto I particularly admired the middle movement, with its opening on slow strings – which were silent in the first movement – and the fast toccata-like middle section generated exactly the right kind of excitement.
The third concerto is more different from the other two than they are from each other. It is mainly serene and graceful, remarkably so when one considers that it was written in wartime, in exile and when Bartók knew he did not have long to live...Aimard, slightly to my surprise, provides beautifully elegant phrasing and articulation and shows himself as much at home in the graceful writing here as he did in the much more challenging writing in the first two concertos...The recording is impeccable.
-- MusicWeb International
[Aimard] is aided and abetted every step of the way by the San Francisco Orchestra and its new(ish) music director...Salonen approaches these works as unapologetically modernist, and he has inspired the orchestra to shed the richly upholstered colors they developed under MTT for a less weighty, more severe color palette that ensures laser-like clarity even in the densest contrapuntal passages. The middle sections of concertos 1 and 2’s slow movements are particularly telling, and listen to the wind’s precision and leanness in the first concerto’s opening movement, which gives the music a mechanical brilliance. Pentatone’s engineers ensure the bass drum has plenty of impact. When Salonen conducted these concertos for Bronfman in Los Angeles, the Sony engineering highlighted that orchestra’s cinematic sound. Here we have a quite different sound palette that embraces a greater variety of hues in a true concert hall acoustic.
Characterful...strongly recommended.
-- The Classic Review
Chopin / Ivo Pogorelich
Ivo Pogorelich has a special relationship with the piano music of the Polish Romantic composer Frédéric Chopin. It is Chopin, after all, whom he has to thank for his international breakthrough. When, at the age of 22, Pogorelich took part in the 1980 Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw, his exceptional playing caused an immediate sensation. Martha Argerich, who was on the jury, described him as a “genius”. Since that time, Pogorelich has been increasingly committed, on recording and in concert, to an image of Chopin that is far from the commonplace cliché of the brilliant and pleasing composer of salon music. Now Pogorelich once again offers completely new insights into Chopin’s world and the soul within the sound in what is in fact his fifth Chopin album, but the first for more than twenty years. He has selected works from the 1840s, the last decade of the Polish master’s life. These include the Nocturnes op. 48 no. 1 and op. 62 no. 2, the Fantasy op. 49 and Chopin’s third and last Piano Sonata, op. 58.
What Pogorelich admires in these works is Chopin’s ability to make the piano a gateway to the soul: “Chopin delivers an open invitation to penetrate human psychology. It’s a specific invitation to continually seek out and explore every possibility that the piano has to offer. That’s a never-ending process, and it will continue to challenge new generations of artists in the future too.”
The Croatian-born pianist traces a path in this recital that starts with the small form, continues by way of the brilliant Fantasy and finally reaches the large-scale, four-movement sonata form. In Pogorelich’s hands, despite their magical lyricism, the two Nocturnes have a gripping sense of tension and drama. The Fantasy in F minor, op. 49 is marked by a sombre mood of conflict, yet at the same time it reflects the improvisational skill for which Chopin was celebrated. With the Piano Sonata No. 3 in B minor, op. 58, the composer not merely bids farewell to this genre, with all its rich tradition. The work also demonstrates his efforts to create a new kind of sonata. And with Ivo Pogorelich this much-performed and popular piano work is transformed into an exciting new encounter with Frédéric Chopin.
REVIEW:
After a 20-year hiatus from the recording studio as regards Chopin, Croatian pianist Ivo Pogorelich (b. 1958) returns with an hour of deeply-thought, if eternally controversial, interpretations of some standard, late-Chopin repertory.
Pogorelich claims that “art is cruel,” that it often violently confronts our conventions and our complacency. Even if one does not subscribe to Antonin Artaud’s credo of art’s “theater of cruelty,” we must acknowledge that Pogorelich softens the blows with a wonderfully warm sonority and clarity of line.
If one is willing to concede that “depth of expression” compensates for or justifies hyperbolic slowness, then Pogorelich’s Fantasy in F Minor (1841) will appear a miracle of sustained intimacy, given its full three-minutes’ length beyond that of Claudio Arrau. The grim, martial opening will soon cede to national, Polish impulses in aristocratic contours, in mazurka and polonaise rhythms. Pogorelich becomes mesmerized by his own poetic filigree, so the musical thread loses a sense of dramatic continuity. Again, the luxury of the arpeggios and runs, high and low, mixed together with declamatory bass chords, proves haunting. In the middle section, Lento sostenuto, Pogorelich finds a drawn-out, poetic balance of improvisatory and ballade-like narrative. The last pages become a postlude or epilogue, very slow and deliberate, strumming their way into a vaporous coda.
Pogorelich’s way with Chopin last, published Nocturne in E (1846) feels better suited to his grand leisure: marked Lento, dolce sostenuto, the melodic line can bear the stretched, serpentine extension it receives, more like Berlioz than Chopin. The secondary theme in ascending, bass runs achieves C-sharp Minor and a series of syncopations that articulate Chopin’s advanced sense of polyphony. Pogorelich makes these rhythmic impulses more lyrical than their accustomed wont. We feel significantly alerted to Chopin’s trills and moving bass line, as the piece eventually assumes a modified rondo format. The music ends, or rather collapses, into the tonic and evaporates.
The last of Chopin’s three piano sonatas, this in B Minor (1844), receives the most improvisatory treatment in the program. The opening, Allegro maestoso, acquires a searching gravitas, alternately martial and nostalgic. Pogorelich milks the secondary theme in D, breaking its dreamy phrases to contrast with the quicksilver runs that provide a coda to the disparate fragments. That the movement ends in the tonic major seems artificial here, another spliced-on, poetic shard.
So far as improvisation occurs, the Scherzo: Molto vivace in E-flat Major from Pogorelich really proves the berries. He invests a liquid urgency into its eighth-note runs, while the chordal, B Major section projects reflective poise. Doubtless, all of Pogorelich’s slow tempos have been awaiting the B Major Largo movement, which now drags out a long, chain-link series of nocturnal thoughts in E Major. If the playing were not so intrinsically lyric, the progress would resemble a sweet dirge with tolling bells. The last movement, Finale: Presto non tanto, assuming the listener’s patience has endured, moves with a hard-won (after a lingering, high dominant 7th chord) gallop, a bit marcato for my taste, but at least moving with decisiveness, especially in the brilliant runs. The secondary theme in the relative B Major, hurls a sense of national pride at us, its left hand’s singing in the manner of a liberated etude. Pogorelich’s sonority gains the heroic high ground at last, thundering to a firm, B Major coda.
-- Audaud.com (Gary Lemco)
Handel: Salve Regina / Roset, Alarcón, Millennium Orchestra
Julie Roset, a young French soprano from Avignon, immediately attracted attention with her first recital for Ricercar (Nun danket alle Gott with Clematis) and went on to record a recital of works by Sigismondo d'India with Mariana Flores that met with great critical acclaim. In this new recording she tackles several of Handel’s masterpieces on religious themes: his Salve Regina, Gloria and the motet Silete venti were all composed at the time when the young Handel had been inspired to new heights by his discovery of Roman musical life.
Ries: Complete Flute Quartets
