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Mascagni: Sì / Vivian, Felle, Gentile, Nicoletti, Comas, Liguori, Sanna, Orchestra Sinfonica del Cantieri d'Arte de Montepulciano
Bongiovanni · Jun 2022CD$20.99 -
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Scarlatti, Vivaldi et al: Sonatas 1730 - Remembering Naples & Venice / Frey, Grisvard
Tyxart · Sep 2022CD$21.99 -
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- Buxtehude: Ciacona in E minor, BuxWV160
- Chávez: Danza a Centeotl (from the Ballet 'Los cuatro soles')
- Chávez: El venado
- Chávez: Huapango de Vera Cruz
- Chávez: La bamba
- Chávez: La paloma azul
- Chávez: Los Cuatro Soles
- Chávez: Pirámide (Ballet in four acts)
- Chávez: Soli I
- Chávez: Soli II
- Chávez: Soli IV
- Chávez: Sones Mariachi for Small Mexican Orchestra
- Chávez: Symphony No. 1 ‘Sinfonía de Antígona'
- Chávez: Symphony No. 2 ‘Sinfonía India'
- Chávez: Symphony No. 3
- Chávez: Symphony No. 4: ‘Sinfonía Romántica'
- Chávez: Symphony No. 5
- Chávez: Symphony No. 6
- Chávez: Violin Concerto
- Chávez: Xochipili
- Chávez: Yaqui Music de Sonora
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Hindemith: Complete Music for Cello & Piano / Aleandri, Farinelli
Brilliant Classics · May 2024CD$16.99
Brasis - Sonho de La
Mascagni: Sì / Vivian, Felle, Gentile, Nicoletti, Comas, Liguori, Sanna, Orchestra Sinfonica del Cantieri d'Arte de Montepulciano
Scarlatti, Vivaldi et al: Sonatas 1730 - Remembering Naples & Venice / Frey, Grisvard
The program takes you on a wonderful journey through Baroque Italy, illuminating compositions of different colors written for recorder and basso continuo. Some of the great music centers of the time – Milan, Venice and Naples – are visited and the listener can immerse themselves in a bygone era. Various styles emerged in these centers, which are known today as the "Venetian school" and the "Neapolitan school", and which ultimately lead to the "gallant style". Major influences from Arcangelo Corelli's compositional style can also be heard in some of the sonatas in the program. As soon as the instrument recorder appears, one always asks oneself whether this was a marginal instrument or whether it could have been of great importance within the music scene. What is certain is that there are numerous sonatas composed specifically for this instrument, as well as extensive contemporary transcriptions of the oboe and violin repertoire for recorder. Influenced by the great popularity of the recorder, composers such as the German-speaking oboe virtuoso Sieber also decided to travel to Italy in order to become respected masters of this instrument.
The present program therefore consists exclusively of works that exist in an original historical manuscript. The manuscripts are now scattered in numerous libraries from Europe to the USA - and yet they all have one thing in common: they contain wonderful sonatas for recorder and basso continuo, all of which were composed in Italy within 30 years. And the deeper you finally delve into this program, the more amazed you can be about the variety and also about some mysteries that suddenly open up...
Bach: Organ Works / Guillou
This is a reissue of six separate discs Jean Guillou recorded for Dorian in 1987 (1 and 6) and 1990 (2–5), issued separately in 1990 and 1993. I couldn’t find reviews of them in the Fanfare Archive, which doesn’t go back that far. Elsewhere on the Internet, however, one finds both lavish praise and caveats, the latter because these are not strict readings of Bach’s music but contain moments in which Guillou, himself a composer, dares to improvise certain notes or passages, which brings the listener to decide whether or not such an approach is valid.
One online review said that Guillou plays these works much like Glenn Gould played Bach on piano, but where Gould’s reinterpretations extended only to tempo and phrasing, Guillou also adds or changes the music. As you can expect, reactions to this vary widely, from one Amazon reviewer who said (as I would) that “he improvises in such a way that casual listeners never suspect … that what they are hearing is not part of the piece they think they are hearing,” to Joel Warren Lidz, Ph.D., who flatly states that “his Dorian recordings are a joke in my opinion.” Both reactions are possible depending on your perspective. On the one hand, improvisation was accepted Baroque practice in solo instrumental music. Yehuda Hanani recorded Bach’s cello suites in a similar manner. But on the other hand, Bach’s music is considered sacrosanct; what one is permitted to do in Couperin, Scarlatti, or Vivaldi is simply not done in Bach. His works are considered complete and immutable.
In the final analysis, however, the most important question is, does it work, or is it really obtrusive? That must be left to the decision of each auditor. I say that it works. Should, or could, this approach be applied to other works by Bach? I think so, particularly in A Musical Offering and Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 2. But, again, this is purely subjective and speculative.
As for Guillou’s playing there can be no argument. He is not only a virtuoso of the first rank, but shows a remarkable grasp of line and structure, rhythm and color. His feet and fingers fly so swiftly over the instrument that one is left in awe that he is also able to change registration, sometimes in the very middle of a passage. His playing is indeed relative to Gould’s in the sense that quick tempos and rhythmic acuity (almost a little clipped at times, like Gould) are hallmarks of his style. But also like Gould at various stages of his career, Guillou does not slough off or rush legato passages, but lingers a bit over them (as in the Trio Sonata BWV 525) with loving affection. He is, above all, French, and therefore brings a very Gallic sensibility to this music. Indeed, going through this set, one may be struck, as I was, by the sheer variety of moods he is able to evoke. Guillot clearly views Bach’s organ music as both evocative and structural, and so does not ignore either aspect of the music.
Of course, this set only includes about half of Bach’s organ music, not counting the concertos or spurious works given BWV numbers. Guillot made a second, complete, set issued by Philips on 12 CDs in 1999. You can find reference to it, and a photo of the box, at bach-cantatas.com/NVP/Guillou.htm#Organ2, but neither a catalog number nor an outlet where you can buy it outside of Amazon. The fact that it appears to be available only in Bach’s home country tells me that the Germans love his playing a lot more than American or British musicological pedants do.
Considering that the set is incomplete, I wondered why one whole disc was devoted to the Goldberg Variations rather than more of the bona-fide organ music. Listening explained why. Not only does Guillou view this music as an opportunity to (literally) pull out all the stops, but the score also gives him license to improvise beyond one’s expectations or belief. He turns the very first variation, for instance, into a two-part contrapuntal dialogue, taken at a rapid clip, but nothing in the entire boxed set prepared me for his playing of Variation 14. This will absolutely blow you away—I haven’t heard its like in 40 years of listening to organ playing, Bach, the Goldberg Variations , or any combination thereof. When it started, I thought for sure this was speeded up from the original tape for release. It seemed to me impossible that any human being, particularly one in his 70s at the time of recording, could play this fast. But there it is.
Two organs are used, discs 2–5 being recorded at the Tonhalle, Zurich, while discs 1 and 6 (the Goldberg Variations ) were recorded on the special Klueker organ that Guillou himself designed at the Church of Our Lady of the Snows in Alpe d’Huez, France. Both are modern in sound, with a wide variety of stops and registrations that add considerable color. The sound quality is spectacular, combining both a close perspective for brilliant passages and atmospheric roominess for quieter and more muted ones. If you insist on authentic-organ performances, there are not one but two series by Helmut Walcha, in a 10-CD set (mono) on Deutsche Grammophon 000185602 and a 12-disc set (stereo) on Archiv 463712; or the much better-recorded (and less dryly performed) 11-CD set by George Ritchie on Raven 875, possibly your best buy at around $60. Yet my personal recommendation for a “straight” set played by a master on older organs goes to the great Marie-Claire Alain (her third and last set, 14 CDs on Erato 96358, by all accounts her finest).
Your decision to acquire this Guillou set will, of course, depend on the issues described above, but I really think you owe it to yourself to hear it. Besides, it is a bargain, selling for a little more than the price of two of the single discs, if you can find them (not all are still in print). I recommend it, even as the only set you may want of Bach’s organ works, unless you are a purist or a completist.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
This six-CD set presents J. S. Bach’s great works for organ performed by Jean Guillou, a leading exponent of his instrument. The discs were recorded in 1987 and 1990 on the Kleuer organ of the Eglise Notre-Dame des Neiges at l’Alpe d’Huez and on the Kleuker-Steinmeyer organ of the Tonhalle in Zurich. These are both exceptionally fine instruments, with focused, clear tone throughout the range and well-differentiated voicing. Guillou’s performances are extremely intelligent, with well-thought-out registration and an excellent resultant layering of sound. Individual voices are brought appropriately to the foreground and the climaxes are solid, though never clogged with redundant sound. The use of registration is particularly refreshing in the context of the better-known works - Guillou’s sense of dialogue in the closing paragraph of the Toccata of the Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 565 is palpable, lending a new perspective to a work that is so often characterised by an indulgent wash of sound. The delineation of voices can be heard to good advantage, too, in the Chorale Preludes - the chorale melody occupies the foreground to a sufficient extent to be evident, but still at a level of translucency that allows Bach’s often startlingly innovative harmonic interpretation to shine through. Listen to In dulci jubilo, BWV 608 and An Wasserflüssen Babylon, BWV 653, for particularly interesting examples of this. Striking harmonic piquancy is imparted through judicious use of the Sesquialtera on the Positif, which some listeners may find disturbing at first; but once the ear has accustomed itself to this slightly unusual colour, it will be perceived as an enhancement to the harmonic color and as an excitingly innovative dimension to the sound-landscape.
Guillou’s employment of rhythm as an expressive medium is also impressive, and results in a momentum that is essentially horizontal: he allows the music’s harmonic characteristic to inform the vertical element and thus brings the melodic element to the fore. Such an interpretation becomes at once a celebration of Bach’s contrapuntal art and a realisation of its basis in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century vocal polyphony.
The booklet notes are clear and well-written, with the works appropriately grouped according to type; although those unfamiliar with musicological research connected with this music might appreciate a brief explanation of the credentials of the ubiquitously mentioned Peter Williams. There is enough technical detail to provide ‘signposts’ to guide a listener through the works; and informative historical data, too; as well as some enjoyable anecdotes (such as Hubert Parry’s word-setting of the subject of the G minor Fugue). Fascinating notes on the organs and full specifications of both are given, pleasingly enough. An authoritative and fascinating set of discs.
-- Em Marshall, MusicWeb International
Splendours of the Gonzaga - Sacred Music from Wert to Monteverdi
Mantua and the Gonzaga family represent one of the summits of European humanistic and Renaissance expression. This project addresses one of the city's greatest periods with sacred works by the leading musicians of the Gonzaga court, at a time when music was the primary tool employed by the Gonzaga dukes to assert their prestige over other Italian cities; this golden age began with the foundation of the Basilica Palatina di Santa Barbara and its cappella under Giaches de Wert during the rule of Guglielmo Gonzaga in 1565 and lasted until the sack of Mantua in 1630. The Ensemble Biscantores specialise in the performance of late Renaissance and Baroque music; here, thanks to the research, study and transcriptions made by its director Luca Colombo, they explore the Mantuan court of the Gonzagas and the liturgy specific to the Basilica Palatina di Santa Barbara.
Gulda: Sinfonie in G - Heidelberger Hazztage 1971
Gulda's “Symphony in G“, presented on this album, was discovered in the SWR archive in the course of research for the release of all the recordings the Austrian pianist made for the German Southwest Broadcasting Corporation (SWR). Until now nobody actually knew that this work existed for there are no indications of Gulda being commissioned or of a specific occasion for which he might have composed this symphony. Therefore, one listens here to the world première of a piece which – apart from being recorded in the studio on 20 November 1970 – has never been performed in public. At the beginning of the 1970s Gulda gave concerts that exclusively featured his own compositions. This also applies to his performance at the Heidelberger Jazztage in 1971, released here for the first time digitally and on album. Almost all of Gulda's jazz works, though often based on classical forms, cannot be played without knowledge of improvisation so as to “keep them away from bunglers” (as the pianist himself put it). One of Gulda’s few compositions without improvisation to be heard here is No. IV from the ten-part piano cycle “Play Piano Play”. “Prelude and Fugue" was probably Gulda’s favourite work and was the last piece of Gulda’s performance in Heidelberg. An exception on this album is Fritz Pauer's "Etude.” In 1966 Fritz Pauer won a prize in the jazz competition Gulda had initiated and so Gulda decided to include this work in the Heidelberg concert from 1971.
Elgar: Complete Works For Wind Quintet / Athena Ensemble
All of this is apt to seem inauspicious, especially for those who don’t much care even for such “important” early works as the Bavarian Dances or for those who don’t like Elgar’s miniatures more generally. Rest assured: there may be nothing even faintly characteristic of the composer here, but the music is consistently captivating in a way that may bring the wind versions of Rossini’s String Sonatas to mind. No profundity, no sentimentality, no significant aesthetic aspirations, no formal challenges, no real attempt to engage the listener on any but the most superficial level: next to this, even the sunnier moments of the Dvo?ák Wind Serenade seem both monumental and avant-garde. But in its bursts of wit and in its unflagging and self-confident optimism, Elgar’s egregiously old-fashioned tidbits will surely brighten your brunch. These spirited performances, by the players who introduced the music to the wider public, have been staples of the Chandos catalog for years—and for good reason. If you’ve missed them in their earlier incarnations, now is a good time to make their acquaintance.
FANFARE: Peter J. Rabinowitz
Bach: Keyboard Works / Paulina Zamora
Bach’s famous and beloved Inventions and Sinfonias continue to captivate listeners, students and teachers today as they have throughout the generations. They are delightful discoveries playable by students of various ages and various stages of pianistic development, and provide an inexhaustible source of new ideas. Bach’s melodies sing, dance, and interact with each other and provide a path to understanding counterpoint, and specifically one of Bach’s favored forms, the fugue. These sparkling classics benefit from Paulina Zamora’s tender interpretations, as does the Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue. This is the third Delos album for the Chilean-American pianist, described by Gramophone as “a sincere and persuasive musician.”
PLAY SOMETHING SWEET (BLURAY)
Chávez: The Complete Columbia Album Collection
Sony Classical is pleased to announce an important reissue of works by Carlos Chávez, one of the most influential figures in the history of Mexican music. Most of these recordings, which span the years 1938 to 1980, are conducted by Chávez himself and have never appeared before on CD.
CONTENTS:
Khachaturian & Rautavaara: Flute Concertos
Flutist Sharon Bezaly has dazzled listeners and critics all over the globe, even being called “God’s gift to the flute.” With almost 40 releases to her name, her wide-ranging discography includes both standard repertoire and selections written specifically for her. This release is owed to two fellow world-class flutists, Jean-Pierre Rampal and Gunilla von Bahr. Rampal was the flutist who arranged Aram Khachaturian’s virtuosic violin concerto for the flute, at the suggestion of the composer. “Dances with the Winds,” Einojuhani Rautavaara’s 1974 composition, is dedicated to Gunilla von Bahr. Rautavaara’s “Dances with the Winds,” is an interesting addition, as the first and last movements are scored for bass flute, while the second movement is written for piccolo, and the third for alto flute. In a later revision, the composer replaced the bass flute with the alto. Bezaly includes both versions on this recording.
Kuhlau: Piano Sonatas Op 59 & 20 / Jeno Jandó
KUHLAU Piano Sonatas, op. 59: in A; in F; in C. Sonatinas, op. 20: in C; in G; in F • Jen? Jandó (pn) • NAXOS 8.570709 (59:07)
Ill-fated Friedrich Kuhlau (1786–1832) suffered a number of life’s mishaps. The first, at age seven, was the loss of his right eye in a street accident. The second, many years later, was the loss of all his unpublished manuscripts in a fire that burned his house to the ground. But perhaps the greatest misfortune of all to befall him was Beethoven, or, more specifically, to have been born and lived in Beethoven’s shadow. Born in Germany, Kuhlau fled to Copenhagen in 1810 to avoid conscription in the Napoleonic Army. What? No 4-F exemptions for one-eyed musicians? He remained in Denmark for the rest of his life, never gaining much traction as a composer except for his Danish opera, Elverhøj ( Elf Mound ). He did, however, achieve some recognition as a concert pianist; as a great admirer of Beethoven, Kuhlau introduced a number of Beethoven’s works to Copenhagen audiences. Of Kuhlau’s manuscripts that escaped the flames and made it to publication, there are approximately 200, consisting mainly of chamber works, solo piano pieces, and enough pieces for flute to have earned him the nickname “the Beethoven of the flute.”
Kuhlau is said to have been most heavily influenced by Beethoven, and as one listens to these sonatas and sonatinas, it’s clear that he had at least the more superficial aspects of Beethoven’s early style down pat. I’m speaking here of the keyboard figurations, the harmonic progressions, and the gestural articulation. A perfect example is the Adagio e sostenuto movement of the G-Major Sonatina, op. 20/2. But here the comparison ends. Kuhlau is but a dinghy caught in the wake of an aircraft carrier. Had he lived 25 years earlier, these mostly slight works might have been seen as a significant advance in keyboard style, but he didn’t; and this is what I meant above when I said that Kuhlau’s greatest misfortune was to have been born and lived in the shadow of Beethoven. Consider that the op. 20 sonatinas on this disc are dated 1820; the op. 59 sonatas, 1824. By this late date, Beethoven was done with the piano sonata as a vehicle for expressing his musical ideas. The “Hammerklavier” and the three last sonatas were behind him.
The taxonomic division of the works on this disc into sonatas and sonatinas is a bit of a puzzler. Keith Anderson’s booklet note homes in on this very point, informing us that the three op. 59 works are often published as sonatinas rather than sonatas. The crux of the matter is that in musical lexicography a sonatina refers either to a small-scaled, modest sonata or, more properly, to a sonata-allegro movement without a development section. The op. 59 set on the disc does feature the requisite first-movement development sections to qualify as sonatas, but oddly, they are all relatively brief works and in only two movements. The op. 20 set, though called “sonatinas,” are all more extended three-movement works and, at least in one case—the F-Major—there is a short development section.
It is likely that most, if not all, of these pieces were written for students, as Kuhlau earned no small amount of his income teaching and publishing just such sonatas and sonatinas intended for young fingers. In a 2006 New York Times article I came across on the Internet (http: //www.nytimes.com/2006/07/02/arts/music/02holl.html), Bernard Holland acknowledges that “none of these sonatinas prepare the student for Beethoven at his most ornery,” and asks “Why play Kuhlau in the first place?” He answers his own question thus: “It is easy to dismiss this annoyingly perfect music as a product of mindless rote or a series of bad habits having outlived their time. But the sonatinas have their uses.” What they are, according to Holland, strike me as a bit misguided. “Really interesting composers like Haydn and Beethoven” he continues ( leaving Mozart and Schubert out of the equation —my italics), “violated the unwritten road maps with glee; but fully to understand the originality of the violators, it is nice to have a Kuhlau or a Muzio Clementi to show you just what is being violated.” Apart from the fact that the road maps of harmonic progression and sonata form were hardly unwritten by the late 18th century, what Holland seems to be saying is that Kuhlau’s only purpose is to provide us with a sextant by which to measure the degrees of deviation from true north practiced by the “really interesting composers.”
I have a rather different take on it. In the grander scheme of things, which we cannot know, it may be that neither Kuhlau nor any of the “really interesting composers” has any purpose at all, other than to afford us some pleasure and comfort while we wait to shuck off this mortal coil. Kuhlau is never less than harmonious, pleasing to the ear, attractive, and entertaining. As music, it’s a vacant sand lot, but one I’d rather trudge through than the barren dunes of some of what passes for music today.
Jen? Jandó is one of Naxos’s “house” pianists. He plays everything they throw at him smartly and stylishly. These pieces, of course, make no technical demands that a polished professional such as Jandó isn’t up to. The recording was made in 2007 with Jandó playing a modern grand piano. While recordings of Kuhlau’s keyboard works abound, the current CD appears to be the only one currently available containing these specific opus numbers. Buy, enjoy, and be happy.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Bach: Goldberg Variations / Jenö Jandó
If Jandó doesn't set records for speed, scintillation, and absolute rhythmic steadiness in the cross-handed variations, they still manage to swing, with plenty of breathing room to boot. Jandó takes a harder-nosed look than usual at the minor-key variations, as if he weren't interested in the canon at the fifth's melodic profundity or the canon at the seventh's wrenching chromatic zingers. And next to the inner drama and extraordinary harmonic tension Perahia illuminates in the famous "black pearl" 25th Variation, Jandó is relatively reticent. He also tends to scale his dynamics between mezzo-forte and mezzo-piano, although this may result from the close, somewhat airless, though not unattractive microphone placement. All in all, Jeno Jandó's Goldbergs add up to a solid, recommendable bargain alternative to the reference versions listed above.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com
Tchaikovsky: Swan Lake / Jarvi, Bergen
As has been noted in previous reviews of recordings of Tchaikovsky’s “complete” Swan Lake , there may well be as many different versions of the score as there have been productions of it. The problem is that Swan Lake is both the earliest (1875–1876) and the longest of the composer’s three great ballets, and it has had so many cooks adding their own ingredients, removing others, and generally revising the recipe that no one can say for sure what made up the original soufflé.
The generally known and accepted facts are these: The ballet, with original choreography by Julius Reisinger, was staged for the first time in February, 1877 by the Bolshoi Ballet at Moscow’s Bolshoi Theater. It was not well received; audience and critics alike felt it was too long and convoluted, its music too heavy, and its libretto, adapted from a story by a German author, an affront to Russian sensibilities. And thus began the tinkering and tampering. By the time the work was revived in 1895 by the Imperial Ballet at St. Petersburg’s Mariinsky Theater there was new choreography by Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov, along with major musical revisions to the score by the Imperial Theater’s conductor and composer, Riccardo Drigo. It should be noted that by the time of the 1895 revival, Tchaikovsky was dead and had no hand in the new performing version. Tchaikovsky and Drigo had worked together previously, but according to accounts, they didn’t agree on much of anything and their relationship was strained.
The upshot of all this is that there is no definitive Swan Lake . It was no longer a ballet by one composer, but rather a group effort; and you know the saying about a camel being a horse designed by a committee. It’s important to bear this in mind when considering the various recordings of Swan Lake that claim to be complete, for the drastic differences in timings cannot be explained by mere tempo differences alone. There have to be other factors involved, such as omission of some movements, cuts to others, and/or reliance on differing versions/editions. Let’s look at the timings of several well-known recordings, sorted in order by duration.
| Conductor | Orchestra | Label | Timing |
| Valery Gergiev | St. Petersburg Mariinsky O | Decca | 106.59 |
| Antál Dorati | Minneapolis SO | Mercury | 131:41 |
| Felix Slatkin | St. Louis SO | RCA | 141:00 |
| Mikhail Pletnev | Russian National O | Ondine | 142.52 |
| Dmitri Yablonsky | Russian State SO | Naxos | 148:38 |
| Michael Tilson Thomas | London SO | Sony | 149:05 |
| Mark Ermler | Royal Opera House O | Conifer | 153.03 |
| André Previn | London SO | EMI | 153:02 |
| Charles Dutoit | Montréal SO | Decca | 153:56 |
| Neeme Järvi | Bergen PO | Chandos | 154:41 |
| Wolfgang Sawallisch | Philadelphia O | EMI | 158:45 |
Right off the bat, I need to offer a disclaimer: My personal familiarity with the above-listed recordings is limited to only four of them—Gergiev, Pletnev, Yablonsky, and now this new one by Järvi. Of the four, Gergiev’s version is the worst in terms of the hatchet job it does on the score. Movements are reordered—for example, the act I Waltz has been moved to act III and its ending abridged—and it’s full of egregious cuts—some 40 minutes of music are sacrificed. Gergiev’s Swan Lake is presumptively based on the Mariinsky performing version; i.e., the above-mentioned Drigo edition prepared for the 1895 St. Petersburg revival.
Looking at Pletnev’s timing of 142:52 vs. Yablonsky’s 148:58 and Järvi’s 154:41, it seems pretty obvious that that while tempo differences over the course of two and a half hours could account for the difference of approximately six minutes between Pletnev and Yablonsky and, in turn, between Yablonsky and Järvi, they’re unlikely to be the cause of the approximately 12-minute difference between Pletnev and Järvi.
Upon closer examination of all three recordings, what I found was that Yablonsky and Järvi both include two often dropped numbers from act III, the Pas de deux that was written after the fact specifically for Anna Sobeshchanskaya, and the “Danse Russe,” added specifically for Pelageya Karpakova. Pletnev omits these two additions, as do a number of others. Whether they should be included or not is a rather complex question.
Ballerinas of the day were not much different from their opera diva counterparts in terms of their egos. They had no shame when it came to demanding custom cadenzas to show off their voices or, in the case of danseuses, their fancy footwork and frilly tutus. The story surrounding Sobeshchanskaya and her Pas de deux is especially messy and borders on scandal. Originally picked to dance the lead role of Odette (the Swan) for the 1877 premiere, Sobeshchanskaya was ignominiously dropped from the cast at the last minute when a high-placed government official with whom she’d had a dalliance accused her of having taken expensive jewelry from him and then pawned it when she married a fellow danseur. On the spur of the moment, she was replaced by Pelageya Karpakova. Sobeshchanskaya survived the indignity and went on to dance the title role when the ballet was staged again a month later with no greater success than at its premiere.
But the intrigue didn’t end there. The ballerina made no bones about the fact that she hated both the choreography and the music, and so off she went to St. Petersburg, where she engaged Petipa to choreograph a new Pas de deux for her that would replace the third act’s Grand pas. Petipa complied and choreographed the new number to music, not by Tchaikovsky, but by Ludwig Minkus, the Imperial Ballet’s composer in residence.
When news of this change reached Tchaikovsky, he was miffed; his ego was probably bigger than Sobeshchanskaya’s. How dare she?! He was the composer, and he alone should take credit (or discredit) for the music. After some smoothing of his ruffled feathers, Tchaikovsky agreed to compose the music himself for Petipa’s new Pas de deux , but there was a problem. Tchaikovsky’s new music didn’t synch up with Petipa’s choreography, and Sobeshchanskaya, now back in Moscow, wasn’t about to travel back to St. Petersburg to go through the whole exercise again. She didn’t seem to care much one way or the other about the music, but she was adamant about keeping Petipa’s choreographed number. How exactly Tchaikovsky was prevailed upon to discard his newly composed music and essentially start over, this time following the outlines and rhythmic steps of Minkus’s music is not explained, but that’s what Tchaikovsky did. So, this particular episode apparently had a satisfactory ending for all involved, except, I suspect, for Minkus who surely must have felt put out. The original Grand pas with music by Tchaikovsky was replaced by Sobeshchanskaya’s Pas de deux with music first by Minkus and then by Tchaikovsky.
Based on the foregoing, it would seem that there is every reason to include this number in complete performances of the ballet, yet many conductors, Pletnev among them, don’t. The situation regarding the “Danse Russe” (Russian Dance) is much simpler and appears to be the reverse; it’s one of deletion rather than addition. It was composed for and included in the original 1877 version of the score danced by Karpakova, the premiere’s last-minute substitute for Sobeshchanskaya. The number was then removed for subsequent performances in which Sobeshchanskaya took over the role, for reasons one can easily guess. If two competing sopranos could bitch-slap each other on stage during a production of a Handel opera, there was no telling what professional jealousy might provoke between two rival ballerinas.
This describes only some of the butchery that turned Tchaikovsky’s finely feathered swan into a plucked chicken. It’s well to remember, however, that Swan Lake was not only the composer’s first completed ballet, it was really his first major stage undertaking to survive the ravages of time, even if not entirely intact. He was working on his opera Eugene Onegin at the same time, his first opera to achieve success; and though there had been earlier operatic efforts— The Voyevoda, Undina, The Oprichnik , and Vakula the Smith —they were either destroyed by the composer, recycled, later revised, or didn’t stir much interest at the time. Thus, at 37, Tchaikovsky’s greatest works still lay ahead of him, and he had yet to achieve the self-confidence that fame would bring him to be able to just say no to those who would mess with his music.
Neeme Järvi’s Swan Lake follows his Sleeping Beauty , reviewed in 36:5. I would expect to see a Nutcracker in the near future, perhaps timed to coincide with Christmas (I’m writing this in November 2013). My only objection to Järvi’s Sleeping Beauty was his somewhat business-like approach, which struck me as missing some of the music’s fairy magic. But the Bergen Philharmonic’s polished playing, James Ehnes’s ravishing violin solos, and Chandos’s thrilling multi-channel SACD recording offered much allure.
On relistening to that release, and in listening to this present one, in which Järvi, Ehnes, the Bergen orchestra, and Chandos repeat their earlier accomplishment, it occurred to me that my criticism of Järvi wasn’t entirely fair. There are two ways to conduct a ballet performance for a strictly audio recording. You can approach it as a concert work, in which case you will tend to emphasize the melodic, harmonic, and structural elements of the score, or you can approach it as a suite of dances, in which case you will emphasize the music’s rhythmic and terpsichorean aspects. Järvi falls into the former camp, and there’s nothing wrong in that, as long as he’s not directing a live production of the actual ballet, in which tempo, pacing, and phrasing need to be molded more flexibly to accommodate the movements of the dancers.
I can’t say absolutely that this is the most authoritatively complete Swan Lake on record, though in taking up the original 1877 score and including additional material supplied by Tchaikovsky himself for subsequent performances, Järvi gives us a version that’s certainly more complete than are a number of others. What I can say is that of the four recordings of the score with which I’m familiar, Järvi’s would now be my first choice, and taking all other factors into account—superb playing by the Bergen Philharmonic, James Ehnes’s beguiling solo violin contributions, and a killer recording—I’d extrapolate from this that Järvi’s Swan Lake is now the one to have.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Kora et le Mechanix - Excursin Animato
So Far / Matteo Rigotti
The pieces composed by Matteo Rigotti and presented on this album are intended for different instruments and offer the opportunity to explore and learn about the varied compositional world of the author. The instrumental variety is rich and always different. Only in Q and Q2, the instrument is the same: the clarinet. However, in this specific case, the two pieces seem to be two moments of the same thought. The second one appears indeed as an extension of the first one, almost a "reaction" to it, creating a narration that transversely joins two tracks, distinct in the album, in a "before" and a "later". In all the other pieces the situation appears limited to the piece itself which becomes a different place each time, a time and a space in which numerous gestures happen. This means that, within each of these "microworlds", sound research and experimentation paths start by taking advantage of both the possibilities that the instrument offers and, in ensemble pieces, the possible result from the interactions between the instruments.
Bortniansky: I Cried Out To The Lord / Ensemble Cherubim
BORTNIANSKY Cherubic Hymn No. 7. Choral Concertos: Nos. 1, 6, 9, 15, 18, 21, 27, 32. How Glorious is our Lord in Zion • Marika Kuzma, cond; Ens Cherubim • NAXOS 8.573109 (63:04 Text and Translation)
We all know that Russian music began with Glinka, right? Well no, actually it didn’t, especially if one considers the rich tradition of a cappella liturgical music in the Russian Orthodox Church. From the late 17th century onward, these compositions are often credited to individual composers, such as Nikolai Diletsky (1630–1690), Vasily Titov (1650–1715), Maksim Berezovsky (1745–1777), Stepan Degtiarev (1766–1813), and Artemy Vedel (1767–1806). Dmitry Bortniansky (1751–1825) was one of the consummate practitioners of this art, but in addition to church music he wrote operas and instrumental works. All of the composers mentioned were strongly influenced by European musical styles, and none more so than Bortniansky. Of Ukrainian birth, he was recruited into the Imperial Court Chapel Choir in St. Petersburg at the age of seven. Because of his outstanding abilities, he was eventually sent to Italy to study, spent 10 years there, and had several of his operas produced in Italian theaters. Upon his return to Russia in 1779 he achieved great success as a composer and choral director and in 1796 was appointed director of the Imperial Court Chapel.
There have been a good many recordings of Bortniansky’s music, but this one is claimed to be “the first to restore authentic early 19th-century Church Slavonic pronunciation and reintroduce fine details found in archival sources.” Not having been present in Russia during the early 19th century, I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the pronunciation, and I would be curious to know on what basis it was established. The notes by conductor and Bortniansky scholar Marika Kuzma shed little light on this issue, except to remark that the orthography in the printed Cyrillic texts “intentionally includes archaic letters to signal an earlier, St. Petersburg pronunciation of Church Slavonic that differs from current Russian or Ukrainian practice.” The “archaic” letters mentioned were eliminated from Russian in the post-revolutionary orthographic reform, which as far as I know did not affect pronunciation. The eliminated letters were simply considered redundant. The claim to historical authenticity is somewhat undermined by the presence in the choir of women’s voices, which traditionally were not used in Orthodox Church music. I must acknowledge, however, that many other recordings of such material also employ a mixed chorus. In any case, Kuzma’s credentials as a choral director, musicologist, and Bortniansky expert are strong, and one can have some confidence in the quality of her research on issues relating to this composer. Above all, it is the quality of the music and the performances that is important, and here Kuzma’s recording is on very firm ground.
A notable feature of these performances is their transparency, contrasting with the massive, blended choral sound favored by other recordings of similar material. This transparency is very beneficial to Bortniansky’s contrapuntal textures and antiphonal effects, and achieving it is clearly one of Kuzma’s major objectives. In the notes, she announces her intention to avoid the “rich, legato choral style of traditional Russian choirs,” which creates “a wash of sound that blurs the fine detail indicated in Bortniansky’s scores.” In Cherubic Hymn No. 7, which opens the program and is probably the composer’s best-known work, the excellent intonation of the Ensemble Cherubim is also immediately apparent. Kuzma’s delivery is a bit quicker but also more relaxed and serene than the performance by the Lege Artis Chamber Choir of St. Petersburg (Sony). Another hymn, Kol’ slaven nash Gospod v Sione (How Glorious is Our Lord in Zion), brings the disc to a tranquil conclusion. Its text, drawn from a poem by Mikhail Kheraskov (1733–1807), is in Russian rather than Church Slavonic, unlike the rest of the works on the disc.
Between the two hymns, the bulk of the disc is devoted to eight of Bortniansky’s 35 sacred concertos for single chorus (he also wrote some for double chorus). The concertos are in three or four short movements and set a variety of religious texts, drawn mostly from the Psalms. Slow movements tend to alternate with faster ones, the latter being highly contrapuntal in character. The emotions expressed in these works run the gamut from deepest despair and mourning to joyous celebration. In addition to the qualities of transparency, textural detail, and precise intonation previously mentioned, Kuzma’s performances are characterized by intensity, elasticity, and variety in tempo and dynamics. If you think an hour of unaccompanied choral music can become monotonous, think again. That is not the case here.
Although a substantial number of discs that include some music by Bortniansky are available, recordings devoted exclusively to his choral music are few, and the selection of concertos assembled by Kuzma cannot currently be replicated on CD. The main competition for this release comes from the efforts of Valery Polyansky, who recorded all 35 concertos with the Russian State Symphonic Capella for Chandos on five discs. The first volume of his series, which contains the first nine concertos and three of those included by Kuzma, is currently available only as an MP3 download. Each of the remaining Chandos discs includes no more than one or two of the works recorded by Kuzma. Polyansky also recorded some of the concertos earlier for Melodiya, first with the Moscow Conservatory Chamber Choir and later with the USSR Ministry of Culture Chamber Choir. These earlier recordings appear to be unavailable at present. The contrast between Polyansky’s approach and that of Kuzma is consistent with her own description of the differences between the “traditional Russian choral sound” and what she seeks to achieve. It would be difficult to question Polyansky’s commitment and authority in this repertoire, or the sonorous majesty of his Chandos recordings, but where I’ve been able to make direct comparisons (in Nos. 1, 6, 9, 18, and 21), I find myself often preferring Kuzma, because of clearer textures, livelier tempos (especially in the slow movements), and more pointed rhythm. It is also noteworthy that where Polyansky relies constantly on a massed chorus, Kuzma frequently assigns lines to individual singers or a small contingent, which makes for a greater variety of texture. The differences in interpretation are perhaps most obvious in the opening movement of Concerto No. 21 (“He that dwelleth in the help of the Most High”), where Polyansky’s marmoreal pace nearly doubles Kuzma’s timing (4:31 vs. 2:22), and Kuzma’s chamber-like texture contrasts strikingly with the dark mass of Polyansky’s chorus. Here one must acknowledge the greater sense of other-worldly mystery achieved by Polyansky, as well as the more powerful presence of bass voices in his rendition. Both these varieties of interpretation have their place.
The sound of this recording is very clean, clear, and well focused, free of the wooliness that sometimes afflicts choral recordings. Polyansky’s Chandos discs, by contrast, are recorded in a much more reverberant environment. The Church Slavonic and Russian texts are offered in Cyrillic, along with English translations, but no transliteration is provided, which is great for those with knowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet, but those without it are at a disadvantage.
The fine performances on this disc offer a good introduction to and sampling of Bortniansky’s choral music. I strongly recommend this excellent disc to anyone interested specifically in this composer or in Russian music before Glinka.
FANFARE: Daniel Morrison
Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonatas / Joanna Leach
Leach's performances are characterised by clarity of thought and texture; they are intimate, measured, satisfying. Their neat musicality lacks the last grain of virtuosity. Many Scarlatti ‘favourites', such as Kk380 and Kk491 are to be found on the disc.
Some intellectual sleight of hand is usually necessary to link a period instrument contingently available with what is recorded, since the connection is by definition post hoc . In this case, one could easily argue that Scarlatti wrote demonstrably virtuosic, display pieces, and wrote them in a context of domestic performance (it is well known that his keyboard sonatas were principally written for Princess Maria Barbara of Portugal , who became Queen of Spain). The square piano clearly gives a suitably intimate sound, and its light action suits the rapidity of the notes. Great pianists of the past, such as Horowitz, who frequently programmed Scarlatti, themselves favoured light pianos.
As the booklet explains, Leach was originally a performer on modern pianos, but found period instruments suited her approach. The Athene label, which is now part of the Divine Art stable, was a way of setting down her distinctive and thoughtful interpretations, among which her Haydn and John Field are especially well regarded.
Good modern recorded sound, and Divine Art's usual crisp presentation. We also learn from the notes that Joanna Leach's long and distinguished career has been seriously threatened by illness; her determination to continue recording is all the more to be commended.
-- Ying Chang, Classical Pointers
CHICAGO TAPES
ARS LONGA
Balkan Project / Cavatina Duo
THE BALKAN PROJECT • Cavatina Duo • CEDILLE 90000117 (66:30)
Arrangements by MIROSLAV TADIC, CLARICE ASSAD, ALAN THOMAS , and others
There is an important trend in music that doesn’t yet seem to have a name. As interest in indigenous non-classical music from various cultures gathers steam, hybrids between these and classical music continue to draw scrutiny from audiences and performers, most famously Yo-Yo Ma and his Silk Road Ensemble. These influences can be traced back centuries, of course (i.e., Mozart’s interest in Turkish music is but one example), but the influence has gone far beyond the colorful additions of particular instruments or a specific regional tang added to an otherwise Western piece. Many of these styles are entering the very DNA of our music as a natural extension of globalization. The name Third Stream was coined a half century ago by Gunther Schuller to describe “a new genre of music located about halfway between jazz and classical music.” Any votes for Fourth Stream?
This terrific new disc of flute/guitar duos occupies one of the many possible points on the classical/folk continuum. Since it consists entirely of music of the Balkans, it also occupies a critical space on the East/West divide. In a nutshell, the music consists of arrangements of songs and dances from the region, commissioned by the Cavatina Duo, one of whom hails from the region (Bosnian guitarist Denis Azabagic) and one of whom doesn’t (Spanish flutist Eugenia Moliner). The notes don’t refer to the use of improvisation in any of the works, but there is a sense of spontaneity to many of the pieces that suggests that the original sources may have employed extemporaneous methods in part.
There is probably still a pervasive belief among many music lovers that “folk” denotes unwavering simplicity, a stereotype that should long ago have been dashed among those with even a cursory knowledge of this region. Some of these works exhibit a dizzying complexity of meter that would confound many a trained classical performer. Even traditional love songs can be found in odd meters, such as the endearing Macedonian song Eleno, Kerko Eleno , in 7/8 throughout. The signature augmented fourth interval so common in the Middle East can be heard in this disc as being a part of this region as well, the apt label for the scale being the “Balkan Minor.” The closest the collection comes to the inclusion of a suite is the Four Macedonian Pieces by Miroslav Tadic. The opening “Jovna Kumanovka” has beguiling melody in a lightly syncopated lilt, and the tune is tossed between the flute and different registers of the piano. The guitar line of “Padushko” sizzles, and the dance pushes ahead in an almost dizzying 5/8 meter.
The duo is unerringly captivating in this literature. Moliner has a rich, soulful tone that suits the music perfectly, and Azabagic has plenty of chops to negotiate the demands of this frequently virtuosic work. The natural audience for this disc would be flutists, guitarists, and students of the region, but it’s hard to imagine anyone not finding lots of pleasure here.
FANFARE: Michael Cameron
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In the notes for this excellent program, guitarist/composer Vojislav Ivanovic describes "the Balkans" as a dividing line between East and West, an exciting crossroad of civilizations" that incorporates many countries, from Macedonia and Greece to Bulgaria, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, Turkey, and Romania. And in their very felicitous partnership, Bosnian guitarist Denis Azabagic and flutist Eugenia Moliner (whose roots are Spanish) perform modern arrangements of songs and dances from these regions, many of which were commissioned by Cavatina Duo. There's a wide range of moods, melodies, and rhythms, and the original songs are exploited in many different ways by the nine or 10 composers who contributed to the project. There's the "impressionistic"-flavor of Ivanovic's setting of a traditional Bosnian song (tr 2), or the light-jazz feel to Matthew Dunne's arrangement of the Macedonian song "Eleno, Kerko, Eleno" (tr 3); "Kalajdzisko Oro" (tr 4) is a wild, swirling dance in 11/8, in a virtuosic setting by Clarice Assad. In fact, perhaps the most prominent feature of many of the selections is the complex rhythm--or often combinations of rhythms--that at once engage the listener and seriously challenge the players. One of the dances--Boris Gaquere's "Kopanitsa da Kalantchatska" from Bulgaria--even requires a nifty bit of "drumming" from the guitarist!
These fascinating rhythmic elements--often in irregular divisions of 7/8, 9/8, 5/8, or the aforementioned 11/8--are characteristic of much of this music, and it makes listening easy and fun as well as keeping the timbres of guitar and flute lively and interesting over the course of the disc's 66-plus minutes.
And whatever challenges the arrangers have presented prove no problem for Azabagic and Moliner; these are two phenomenal musicians whose collaborative timing and keen rhythmic sense allow each of the 16 songs and dances to truly sing and dance with delightful spirit and an ingratiating lack of inhibition.
For me, some selections seem a bit long for the material--the first two of Miroslav Tadic's Macedonian Pieces--or veer too close to the realm of what used to be called New Age--Alan Thomas' Croatian song "The Shepherd's Dream"; yet for many listeners this will be exactly the right thing, and Moliner and Azabagic leave little room for criticism of their artistic commitment or technical skill. Tadic's rousing dances--the last two of his Macedonian Pieces--especially the frighteningly tricky "Pajdushka" (in 5/8), along with the program's final piece, Clarice Assad's metrically boggling Bulgarian folk dance (including a section of 9/8+7/8+11/8), are bound to awake movements in your body as you listen that you didn't know you had! As is expected with Cedille, the sound, this time from a Chicago studio, is ideally suited to the music and to the timbres and balance requirements of the two instruments. Strongly recommended.
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
Reznicek: Schlemihl, Raskolnikoff /Jurowski, Yamamasu, Et Al
Take the opening, a very funny Wagner/Strauss parody that represents the "hero". All of the clichés are firmly in place: the simple triadic melodies, bold writing for brass, and repeated wind chords. There's only one problem--the music can't make up its mind what key it's in. However, the composer's message couldn't be clearer, and while there's much that's quite beautiful (the music of "the woman" and the entire last few minutes), the overriding impression remains one of good-natured fun. There's even a brief tenor solo toward the end that basically says "Your life hasn't been a total waste and you've earned a rest" (or words to that effect), plus some solemn writing for organ that hits an aptly religious note, but not too seriously. It's all gloriously played by the WDR Symphony Orchestra under Michail Jurowski and fabulously well recorded, and I can't recommend it highly enough.
Reznicek apparently did for Raskolnikoff (of Crime and Punishment fame) what Beethoven did for Leonore. This is the second of two Raskolnikoff overtures that he wrote, and it dates from the 1920s (Reznicek was born in 1860, the same year as Mahler, and died in 1945). While not as interesting as Schlemihl (no surprise there), and despite the fact that it takes a while to get going, the piece is just as immaculately crafted and certainly as well performed here. The ending, with the birdsong from the slow movement of Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony putting in a brief appearance, can't fail to please even if it leaves open the question of what any of it has to do with Dostoyevsky. Never mind; Reznicek is a major composer and one of the great discoveries of this (or any) year. CPO's ongoing series of recordings is turning into a major event. Just remember, you heard it here first. [3/5/2004]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Madeleine Dring: Complete Works for Oboe
Hindemith: Complete Music for Cello & Piano / Aleandri, Farinelli
Within the extensive repertoire of the German composer Paul Hindemith (1895–1963), music for cello and piano occupies a considerable position in terms of both quantity and quality. Hindemith was primarily a violist and conductor, but his wide-ranging interests led him to experiment with a great variety of instruments both as a composer and a player, making him a de facto multi-instrumentalist. Among his favorite instruments, the cello always occupied a special place in his activities, partly due to his collaboration with his brother Rudolf, an excellent cellist.
His original compositions for the specific duo of cello and piano are varied and numerous, offering a synthetic vision of the different stylistic instances of an author who never tired of rethinking and redefining his language. This recording brings together and offers the listener this entire wonderful portion of Hindemith’s catalogue.
The Drei Stücke Op. 8 (1917) are undoubtedly among the most important pieces of the composer’s youthful phase. The later Sonata Op. 11 No. 3, a composition of considerable constructive commitment and complex genesis, is recorded here for the first time in both versions: one from 1919 (lost piano parts reconstructed by Fazil Say), the other from 1921. The delicate and expressive Drei leichte Stücke ‘Cello in first position’, composed in April 1938, are intended for the didactic sphere, without renouncing the peculiarities of the harmonic language of the composer. The same can be said of the brief and melancholic Meditation, a transcription of a movement from Hindemith’s orchestral ballet Nobilissima Visione. More complex is A Frog he went a-courting. Despite its brevity, it is one of the finest pieces on this program. A dozen concise variations, framed by the initial exposition and the concluding return of the traditional English theme, present a wealth of instrumental, timbral, expressive, and dynamic solutions in a small, dense, brilliant display of Hindemith’s compositional mastery. Do not be deceived by the title Kleine Sonate (1942), which is small in size but not in terms of compositional complexity. The imposing Cello Sonata (1948) was written for Gregor Piatigorsky and premiered by him in New York in the year it was composed. Comparing this Sonata to the Sonata Op. 11 No. 3 conveys a sense of the stylistic evolution across some 30 years.
