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Horszowski Live At Casals Hall 1987
This double-CD set from RCA Japan (courtesy of Arkivmusic.com's on-demand reprint program) preserves what presumably is the best of Mieczyslaw Horszowski's December 9 and 11, 1987 Casals Hall Tokyo recitals, along with the encores from each date. Listen blindly and you'd guess that an older yet quite well preserved and highly experienced pianist was at work, someone between 60 or 75. Try the 95-years-young Horszowski, who's on top form.
True, he doesn't exactly sprint through the Chopin B minor Scherzo's outer sections as he did back in 1940, but he makes a virtue out of necessity by leisurely unfolding and consistently sustaining the music's polyphonic interest. This also holds true for the C-sharp minor Polonaise. The A-flat Impromptu amounts to a bel canto masterclass, while Horszowski requires only dabs of pedal to project the Mozart K. 332 sonata's first movement to such texturally differentiated effect.
The Bach Fifth English Suite is full-bodied and virile yet sensitively delineated (the Prélude's effortlessly conversational flow between hands, each of the Passepied's bouncy, delightfully ambidextrous qualities). Perhaps the fountain of youth kicks in strongest with the two Villa-Lobos miniatures, served up with red-blooded élan. The encores abound with memorable moments. Horszowski plays the Op. 25 No. 2 Etude's opening statement as if he were kneading the triplet passagework into a seamless legato line, yet upon its reiteration he lightens the tone and mostly eschews the pedal.
Force and finesse are the yin and yang elements that anchor the three Nocturnes. The elusive yet palpable give and take of Horszowski's rubato in the B minor Op. 33 No. 4 Mazurka is easier for to you hear than for me to describe. Horszowski played Mendelssohn's Spinning Song on both concerts; the second version is more fluent and relaxed. He also repeated the Mozart sonata's Adagio, or, more accurately, sang it out in full operatic splendor. The slightly distant microphone placement accurately depicts Horszowski's tone from the perspective of an audience member sitting in the best seat of the house. Notes in Japanese only.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com
Reminiscence
Scarlatti: Complete Keyboard Sonatas Vol 9 / Nicolosi
D. SCARLATTI Keyboard Sonatas: K 52; K 77; K 79; K 139; K 170; K 176; K 277; K 344; K 340; K 388; K 398; K 456 • Francesco Nicolosi (pn) • NAXOS 8.570368 (61:02)
Scarlatti fans are many, and growing in number. Russian pianist Vladimir Horowitz was in great part responsible for a reevaluation of the composer’s works, frequently playing Scarlatti sonatas in his recitals. His recordings of a few of these sonatas are revered by pianists and melomanes alike, and no wonder about it. He was supremely aware of the Italian master’s genius in portraying different emotions and in eschewing any of the dictates of style, writing music that sparkles with cleverness and emotion and remains almost unclassifiable in terms of style or school.
Since then, the early-music crowd took possession of these works, and Scarlatti’s œuvre has occupied its rightful place among the harpsichordists. It appeals to anyone who plays a keyboard instrument, as an almost didactic tool: each sonata presents a new exciting problem, a feature that serves to improve some necessary aspect of technical or musical abilities. It also inspires fanatical discussions: staunch defenders of period instruments have fits at hearing a single Scarlatti phrase on a piano, pianists often declare that “had Scarlatti known the modern piano, he would have abandoned the harpsichord” (a pretty lame argument, if you ask me).
Fashions come and go, but Scarlatti remains a hit with keyboard-players, a challenge to be faced, a citadel to be conquered. Options abound. On the harpsichord, my favorites are many, and run from the aggressively elegant Pierre Hantaï (for Mirare), to the variegated approach of Kenneth Weiss (for Satirino), with bows to brutally succinct Nicolau de Figueiredo (Clássicos), and to the reliability of Richard Lester (Nimbus).
There are the pianists who follow the example set by Horowitz, who had an extraordinarily powerful vision of this meridional music, at the same time full of passion and precision. There are those who play the sonatas with Mozartean delicateness (Soyen Lee, for example, for Naxos), subtle sobriety, as Fabio Grasso does (Euterp), and even exuberant intelligence, as my all-time favorite Mikhail Pletnev. From this small list, one can get an idea of the very contrasting stances that find defenders among Scarlatti fans. It is reasonable to state that there is a Scarlatti for absolutely every taste in the world.
The present CD, by Francesco Nicolosi, will thus find its share of admirers, and an equally large number of detractors, for the very same characteristic that the first group will love and the second one will hate. It presents a very pianistic approach, one that makes the pieces sound like Chopin nocturnes. Curiously, the sonatas that are readily identifiable as Baroque are the more “Bachian” ones (like K 52), perhaps because we are already so used to hearing “romantic” versions of Bach. There is a lot of pedaling and ample use of rubato, articulations are softened, and the twisted dissonances are underplayed, partly because the right hand gets more emphasis than the left. Nicolosi’s fluent technique itself somehow diminishes the impact of the more dramatic sonatas: he plays with the easy assurance of a marathon runner quickening his step to catch a bus on a Sunday afternoon. Nothing wrong about that, granted. This is still sensitive playing that takes advantage of Scarlatti’s many subtleties and highlights the stunning quality of the compositions. But the enormous scope of the composer’s imagination gets attenuated, and the resulting versions seem old-fashioned. In the end, this CD says more about Nicolosi and the piano than about Scarlatti and his music.
For those who know Scarlatti and know they like it on the piano, this disc is definitely recommended, as well as for fans of Romantic music who are seeking a first encounter with the music of the 18th century. For those who want a pianist’s sound, but a harpsichordist’s conception, or even a truly personal vision of Scarlatti, this CD will fail to hit the mark.
FANFARE: Laura Rónai
Halo
Haydn Edition
A Tribute To Tchaikovsky: Vladimir Feltsman
A Tribute to Tchaikovsky is a very attractive CD compilation of short, tuneful pieces highly characteristic of the composer. I suppose it’s not what you would call great piano music, rather a collection of pleasant miniatures that delight the ear. Mr Feltsman calls it intimate salon music and that’s a very good description. The general style is very much in the same vein as Tchaikovsky’s more well-known work The Seasons; if that appeals to you so will the contents of this disc. Most of the items presented here don’t plumb any great musical depths but it’s all very melodic and charming. The Thème original et variations opens the recital in splendid fashion - there’s clearly an innate natural feeling for the idiom, sparkling technique and the playing is beautifully understated as befits this kind of music. There are some similarities to Schumann in this opening piece as the sleeve-note suggests but it’s also unmistakably by Tchaikovsky. The final flourish is tremendously exciting. Two minor masterpieces bring the disc to a conclusion, the Méditation Op. 72 No. 5 with its memorable opening theme and dramatic central climax and the enchanting, Liszt-like Chant élégiaque Op. 72 No.14. The rest of the programme really does enter the world of salon music. There are echoes of Chopin, Mendelssohn, Schubert and Liszt to be heard throughout this disc. It would be harsh to suggest that the works contained here are stylised or derivative. The recital is well planned with notable mood-changes from piece to piece - romances, waltzes and tender nocturnes all have their place alongside more lively, technically challenging numbers.
Vladimir Feltsman performs the whole programme in a gentle introverted fashion and this approach sounds absolutely right. The playing is first rate with tasteful rubato and excellent control of dynamics; every detail and nuance shines through. This isn’t really concert hall music as such and at no time does the playing become hectoring, over-emotional or virtuosic for the sake of it. It’s all very natural and enjoyable. The pianist’s programme notes state that the pieces in this recording were selected to be heard as a single composition. I personally fail to make any such connection but that’s not really important. What matters here is that we have a marvellous recital on our hands and it deserves to be successful.
The piano sound is good rather than outstanding. It’s typical of many modern digital recordings, sounding a bit top-heavy and thin and lacking a true, deep resonant bottom end. It doesn’t have the thrilling resonance of a live concert grand. At least the image is set slightly back, making it a comfortable experience and the music-making has a natural impact. This disc is very much for Tchaikovsky enthusiasts and lovers of tuneful, romantic piano music. I hope nobody is put off by the CD cover which features a rather grumpy looking Feltsman. The image doesn’t quite sit well with the tuneful gems included on this disc.
-- John Whitmore, MusicWeb International
The World According to George Antheil / Kopatchinskaja, Ahonen
George Antheil called himself a ‘Pianist-Futurist’. A lover of speed, cars and airplanes, the American composer settled in the Paris of the Années Folles, where he frequented Picasso shows and Stravinsky concerts, and composed works such as the Sonate sauvage and Jazz Sonata, which caused a scandal: during a concert in Budapest, he even brandished a pistol to restore silence in the hall . . . He hero-worshipped Beethoven, whose pieces he played in the first part of his recitals before moving onto his own music. In 1933, he returned to the United States, where he met John Cage and Morton Feldman. Patricia Kopatschinskaja and the young Finnish pianist Joonas Ahonen – whom The Times, following what the journalist described as ‘one of those concerts you remember for ever’, presented as the violinist’s ‘doppelgänger’! – pay tribute to the self-proclaimed ‘Bad Boy of Music’.
Critical acclaim from the New York Times:
"George Antheil (1900-59) was a technophilic, self-declared bad boy of music; regardless of whether that’s true, he didn’t please his way into the canon. Here, however, this American composer gets a tribute that places him in a lineage of innovators from Beethoven to the mid-20th century — traced by the daredevil violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja and an enthusiastic partner in the pianist Joonas Ahonen.
"...Antheil would perform his works alongside, say, something from a century earlier, and Kopatchinskaja and Ahonen do the same by programming Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 7 in C minor. It is a fiery and freely interpreted account reminiscent of Gidon Kremer and Martha Argerich’s fearless, unpredictable, at times unwieldy recordings from the 1990s.
"Like the Beethoven, the Antheil is in four movements, but it blends traditional form with a thoroughly modern sound that, in this reading, bustles at a breakneck pace with percussive and metallic timbres. Looking beyond Antheil’s generation, the album also includes pieces by Morton Feldman and a nocturne by John Cage, works that subtly recall the sonatas but also stand alone as studies in sound-making and extremity — of strength and softness, of overtone-rich expanses. Executed with discipline that borders on mechanical, they couldn’t be better suited to a world according to George." --The New York Times (Joshua Barone)
DEBUSSY: IMAGES I & II BALLADE MASQUES
Schuman: Symphony No 6 / Schwarz, Seattle Symphony
SCHUMAN Symphony No. 6. Prayer in Time of War. New England Triptych • Gerard Schwarz, cond; Seattle SO • NAXOS 8559625 (60:51)
I was working as office administrator for a church at the time of 9/11, and can still remember the shock and angst following the attack and its aftermath. The minister came to me one day and mentioned how horrible things were. I remarked that at times like this I thought of Olivier Messiaen and his three fellow musicians, held prisoner in a Nazi POW camp, thinking that not only their own ends were near but the end of the world, and how Messiaen responded, artistically, with his masterly Quartet for the End of Time. The minister looked at me as if I had just said I came from Mars and said, “Well, I don’t know how to rock and roll any more!”
Different strokes for different folks, I suppose. I respond more to Messiaen and those other works written as a response to the angst of a war that shattered mankind to the very depths of its soul. William Schuman’s response was his 1943 Prayer in Time of War and, afterwards, his abstract but darkly soul-shattering Symphony No. 6. The Prayer met with good critical response when it first appeared, the symphony with antipathy bordering on outright hostility. Its premiere with the Dallas Symphony conducted by Antal Dorati on February 27, 1949, incensed the audience so much that, in Schuman’s words, “They questioned whether they should even complete payment of the commission.”
The symphony, following the dark music he wrote for ballets by Antony Tudor ( Undertow ) and Martha Graham ( Night Journey ), is similarly black and angst-ridden. Like Vaughan Williams’s own Sixth Symphony, it is a highly personal reaction to a postwar world in which so many thousands of lives were ended or disrupted, a world dominated by power struggles with the Soviets, the atomic bomb, and the intense effort it took to pick up shattered lives and move on. The fact that Vaughan Williams’s work was understood and appreciated in England while Schuman’s was vilified in America probably has something to do with the level of property destruction the former country suffered. America itself was largely protected, at least physically, and like the onset of the Depression, the postwar years created a market for soft, soothing music. Schuman’s existentialist bombshell was not what audiences wanted to hear.
Even today—perhaps especially today, in an uncertain world caught between Islamic jihads on one side and an economic freefall on the other—Schuman’s symphony and Prayer speak to us deeply unless, of course, you are one of those who just don’t know how to rock and roll. The Prayer is gentler in expression. Despite a dangerous-sounding Più animato section in which the storm of war is depicted, its overall mood is soothing in its multitonal, Ives-like expression. The second outburst, consisting of brass fanfares and animated strings, is more hopeful than nihilistic, and it ends with the same soft chord with which it began. Conversely, the symphony is consistently dark, a tunnel with no light at its end but only the quietude of resignation and emotional defeat. One of the more furious outbursts at about the 20-minute mark didn’t seem to me as well composed as the rest of the work, but even this somewhat spurious moment seemed to me to indicate our powerlessness against forces too strong to fight.
Gerard Schwarz has developed over the years into an outstanding conductor, with only a few of his recordings sounding emotionally shallow. This music is very much his métier as, apparently, was the Mahler Seventh he recorded a while back. These performances lack nothing in drama, feeling, or outstanding orchestral balance. Schwarz’s only rival in the symphony with which I’m familiar is the recording by American conductor Hugh Keelan with the New Zealand Symphony (Koch 7290), a fine performance as well if, to my ears, a little less seamlessly joined than Schwarz’s. The Prayer is combined with Schuman’s Fourth Symphony and Judith on First Edition 11, played by Jorge Mester and the Louisville Symphony, but the splendidly professional polish of the Seattle Symphony surpasses Louisville’s playing capacity of that time.
After two such melancholy works, Schwarz ends this CD with one of Schuman’s most popular pieces, the New England Triptych , three pieces for orchestra after William Billings. Here the language is also bitonal but the overall mood more positive. It’s a wonderful way for the disc to end and, again, Schwarz gives a performance comparable to the best available, including Howard Hanson’s classic account for Mercury Living Presence (432755) and Leonard Slatkin with the St. Louis Symphony (RCA 61282). Their versions have, perhaps, a trifle more swagger, but Schwarz is not eclipsed; and, when combined with these shattering performances of the symphony and Prayer, it makes for an indispensable disc for those who admire Schuman’s unique musical aesthetic.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
If we set to one side the disavowed first two symphonies Gerard Schwarz has now completed recording the Schuman symphonies. Only the Schwarz-Seattle-Naxos Eighth awaits issue. The series began with a handful of Schuman symphonies recorded by Delos in the 1990s. Naxos has picked up the baton dropped when the gloriously ambitious Delos project stumbled and fell. That they are doing this at bargain price is remarkable as with so much that Naxos does. Naxos have reissued all the Delos session symphonies and continued and completed the cycle in Seattle. This disc mixes the Delos-originated 1990 session for the Triptych with newer Naxos fixtures in 2005 and 2008. The transcript of an interview with Gerard Schwarz can be found on the Naxos website.
The Sixth Symphony was first recorded by Ormandy in the 1960s on CBS AML 4992 and reissued on Albany TROY256. It’s a work of nocturnal reclusion; not at all restful. Although Schuman has his lyric heart on display it is not close to his sleeve. The song is sweet but haunted and darkly clouded with Bergian strands – even a touch of Allan Pettersson about it. Barber in his most introspective brown study comes to mind and the tension never lets up. Kinetic fury has usually been part of the Schuman palette and so it is here (try. 20:00 onwards) although occluded lyricism dominates and acts as an indefatigable magnetic pull. The work is presented in a single half hour track. The Sixth was commissioned by the Dallas Symphony Orchestra League and the Dallas orchestra premièred it with Antal Doráti conducting on 27 February 1949. It’s an impressive piece if without the compulsive concentration that bowls over listeners to the Third Symphony and the Violin Concerto.
Prayer in a Time of War first saw light of day with Fritz Reiner and the Pittsburgh Orchestra on 26 February 1943. It’s a substantial movement of symphonic bearing and unyielding seriousness as befits the subject. The language is touched with some bleakness but it is less convoluted than that of the Sixth Symphony. This is the Schuman of the Third Symphony admitting and radiating facets that recall Roy Harris and Aaron Copland. The brass writing is gaunt, statuesque and excoriating; the drum-taps and cold fanfares referencing Lincoln and Whitman. It’s is a grand statement to put alongside his works of similar concision: Credendum, In Praise of Shahn and American Hymn. This is not its first recording; that honour goes to the Louisville and Jorge Mester – still to be had on Louisville First Edition.
New England Triptych is in three movements: I. Be Glad Then, America [5:05]; II. When Jesus Wept [7:53] III. Chester [3:08]. The outer movements are redolent of Tippett in zest, springiness and riotous exuberance. The Triptych was premièred in Miami on 28 October 1956, with Andre Kostelanetz conducting the University of Miami Symphony Orchestra. The next month Kostelanetz took it to the New York Phil. It is one of Schuman’s most accessible works despite its date. The three movements are based on hymns by the Revolutionary period figure, William Billings (1746– 1800). Schuman refers to “a fusion of styles and musical language”; acidic-epic Schuman meets devout Hanoverian. The middle movement recalls RVW’s Tallis and Bliss’s Blow Meditations.
Let’s not write off those first two symphonies (1935, 1937). I have heard the Second Symphony in a 1930s broadcast by Howard Barlow and the CBS orchestra and it’s by no means negligible. Then there are other works which will be worth revival – principally theConcerto on Old English Rounds and the spectacular symphonic cantata Casey at the Bat, superbly revived by Dorati in Washington as part of the American centennial event diary.
It’s a pleasure to report that this disc was generously supported by the National Endowment for the Arts who seem to have moved away from a policy that appears at one time to favour only the work of the adherents of academic dissonance.
The notes are by Joseph W. Polisi, currently sixth president of The Juilliard School and author of “American Muse: The Life and Times of William Schuman” (Amadeus Press, 2008).
Keep watching for the Naxos Schuman Eighth secure in the knowledge that Schwarz and his Pacific Edge orchestra are fully equal to the challenges set by Schuman. Naxos will again, I am sure, provide a stunning recording as they have done here across a span of eighteen years – session to session.
-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International
Cello Recital: Vytautas Sondeckis
Satiesfictions - Promenades with Erik Satie

Always armed with wisecracks, umbrella, and a bowler hat, Erik Satie was not only on the outside one of the strangest figures in the early 20th century French avant-garde; he was a composer, designer, church founder, PR pioneer, and master of witty remarks. In playful episodes, the documentary illuminates the overall phenomenon of Satie. His countless imaginary advertisements evolve into real commercials, and his drawings take on a life of their own as cartoons. Divas, dogs, puppets, and children, as well as pianists playing pianos stacked on top of each other are featured in scenic interludes, while performers turn into “musical furniture” in swimming pools, factories, or at train stations. Interwoven with accounts by Satie’s associates and music experts, the film offers a unique insight into Satie’s cosmos of word and sound.
With Jean Cocteau, Man Ray, Henri Sauguet, Georges Auric, Pierre Bertin, Virgil Thomson, Steffen Schleiermacher, GrauSchumacher Piano Duo, Jean-Pierre Armengaud and Patrick Le Mauff
Languages: English, French
Subtitles: German, French, English, Korean, Japanese
Bonus: Music by Erik Satie (La Belle Excentrique, Valse du Chocolat aux Amandes, Ce que dit la petite Princesse des Tulipes, Nocturne No. 4), Stock Market Report à la Satie
Bonus Running time: 15:17 min
Bonus Languages: German
Bonus Subtitles: English
Number of DVDs: 1
Picture Formats: 16:9 NTSC
Sound Formats: PCM Stereo, Dolby Digital 5.1, DTS 5.1
Running time: 56:22 min
Ponchielli: Piano Music / Ester Poli
Charming salon miniatures and a grand funeral march by the verismo composer of La Gioconda.
Most of the pieces issued here were published in the 1870s and 1880s, and some of them are far more substantial than mere album-leaves. Yet they are hardly known at all; Riccardo Muti recorded an orchestration of the sombre and touching Elegia funebre from 1881, but Ester Fusar Poli’s new recording is the only available version of the piano original. Even more imposing in scale is the 16-minute Funeral March which Ponchielli wrote late in 1872 to honor the passing of the publisher Francesco Lucca. However, no Ponchielli album would be complete without a version of the ‘Dance of the Hours’ immortalized by Walt Disney’s hippos in Fantasia.
Ester Fusar Poli presents a beguiling sequence of elegies, nocturnes, polkas and tone-poems, demonstrating the composer’s expressive range and deft piano writing. An extensive essay by Gabriele Galleggiante Crisafulli considers Ponchielli’s piano output in the context of his career as a whole, making this album an important contribution to our understanding of a figure who was much more than a ‘one-hit wonder’.
Skalkottas: Concertos For 2 Violins, Pianos / Christopoulos
SKALKOTTAS Concerto for 2 Violins (orch. Demertzis). Concertino for 2 Pianos. Characteristic Piece, “Nocturnal Amusement” 1 • Vassilis Christopoulos, cond; Georgios Demertzis (vn); Simos Papanas (vn); Maria Asteriadou (pn); Nikolaos Samaltanos (pn); Dimitris Desyllas (xyl); 1 Thessaloniki St SO • BIS 1554 (55:02)
BIS has lavished a great deal of attention on Nikos Skalkottas (1904–1949), a former student of Arnold Schoenberg, who, like Alban Berg, took dodecaphony in a somewhat different direction from that of Schoenberg’s or Anton Webern’s. Kostis Demertzis’s booklet notes describe Skalkottas’s efforts to combine the system with popular elements that would entertain its listeners. He did so, for sure, in his Concerto for Two Violins (an unorchestrated version of which appeared on BIS 1244), a piece from 1944 that he never completed (or heard performed) and that he apparently intended to finish after he had completed his Second Symphonic Suite in the last year of his life. The Concerto’s first movement integrates the two bustling violin parts into an orchestral web (not only that of Kostis Demertzis’s orchestration but that of the engineers) more in the manner of Bach’s Double Concerto than in that of, say, Mozart’s Sinfonia concertante for violin and viola. As did Berg’s Violin Concerto, Skalkottas’s slow movement incorporates a borrowed tonal melody, this one, according to the notes, a rebetiko by Vassilis Tsitsanis that Skalkottas had chromatically enhanced. This popular-style melody slinks, if not as suggestively, in the sultry manner of the Blues from Ravel’s Violin Sonata, though the outer, fast, movements have been influenced by, and pay tribute to, a popular idiom of a different kind—folk music. The Concerto is substantial in both length (almost 38 minutes in this performance) and in substance, despite its emphasis on accessibility and entertainment. While the ardent violin lines in the slow movement emerge, as do those in the outer movements, from sonorous, highly colored tuttis, the third movement returns to the whirlwind manner of the first, with the violins emerging now in bands of melody reminiscent of Corelli’s trio-sonata textures, and now in sharply articulated folk-inspired thematic statements. A brilliant cadenza about two-thirds of the way through the finale showcases the two violins’ virtuosity. The soloists play with great energy and élan in the outer movements and an appropriate sultriness in the slow one; Christopoulos and the Orchestra provide highly colorful, enthusiastic orchestral support.
If anything, the Concertino for Two Pianos (from 1935) sounds even lighter and chattier in its first movement, affecting a boulevardier’s breeziness (as did Poulenc’s) but couched in the rigorous procedures of serialism. Demertzis’s notes trace some of the tone-row manipulations, while the lighthearted style will—especially in this engaging performance by Maria Asteriadou and Nikolaos Samaltanos—tempt a willing listener’s ear away from those compositional elements.
The Characteristic Piece (from 1949), almost—almost—firmly tonal, serves as a sort of fireworks display that brings the program to a close in an intoxicating performance with all the carnival appeal of George H. Green’s Fluffy Ruffles . It’s like musical licorice, and it’s hard not to listen again several times.
Charles Warren Fox, the Eastman School’s protomusicologist, used to insist in his classes on the 20th century that dodecaphony didn’t necessarily imply any particular compositional style. Skalkottas’s music, placed beside that of Webern, seems to reinforce the point of view upon which Fox so vehemently (and disdainfully) insisted. In any case, even in an era in which serialism’s sun may be setting, Skalkottas’s music, for its energetic forging of a novel, syncretistic, idiom, should appeal to a new generation of listeners. Recommended.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
The Film Music Of Sir Richard Rodney Bennett / Gamba, Et Al
Usually we only hear Bennett's celebrated waltz from Murder on the Orient Express so the eleven-minute suite from the 1974 Academy Award nominated score is most welcome. Gamba, aided by Chandos's superbly dynamic and detailed sound, gives a thrilling reading of this glittering, sophisticated music for the smart set travelling on a mission to kill, on Europe's premier train. The music reflects the styles of that hedonistic era between the two world wars: waltzes, tangos and music played in the salon style. There is, as to be expected, an element of murky mystery and swift violence; but there is appealing elegiac material too. But overall, there is the glamour and urgency of the great powerful train itself.
From international sophistication, the prograame turns to a smaller world of rural romantic tragedy and to John Schlesinger's 1967 film of Thomas Hardy's Far From the Madding Crowd starring Julie Christie, Peter Finch, Alan Bates and Terence Stamp. Although the film had mixed reviews, Bennett's score was Oscar-nominated. Bennett wrote some beguiling pastoral themes, notably the poignant Bathsheba love theme. Opposed to this delicacy, is some very astringent, harsh, dissonant folk-like material that underlies the cruel reality of rural life like the loss of the shepherd's (Bates) flock of sheep (they throw themselves over the edge of a cliff) leaving him penniless and unable to pursue his love, Bathsheba. There is also bravado music for the proud, womanising soldier (Stamp), counterbalanced with elegiac material and music that, in its sense of chill isolation, recalls Holst's Egdon Heath.
Bennett has arranged his music for the 1972 film Lady Caroline Lamb as an elegy for orchestra and that Cinderella of the orchestra, the viola. His music for this film, which was about Lady Caroline Lamb's disastrous obsessive love for the poet Lord Byron, is distinguished by a very appealing tender romantic melody that is redolent of the Lady's yearning. The work is presented in two movements. Before the love theme is stated in the first of these, there is headlong skittish, neurotic music portraying the rash, foolish woman. Afterwards comes some comically ironical military music of some pomposity which includes (Lady Lamb's?) sighs before the mood darkens - perhaps signifying Lady Lamb's encroaching madness. The second movement reprises the love music, which becomes the theme for a set of variations: some dreamily nocturnal, some passionate, some troubled. Philip Dukes is a sensitive and refined soloist.
Cynthia Miller adds an ethereal touch, playing her ondes martenot for Bennett's Enchanted April score. This 1991 Merchant Ivory production dealt with the lives and loves of a handful of English ladies spending an idyllic month in an Italian villa. Accordingly, Bennett responded with a mellow nostalgic score, in which the ondes martenot transports the characters, and us, away from the ordinary, everyday world - to somewhere that is extraordinary and enchanted. His music is very delicate, atmospheric and impressionistic; and very reminiscent of both Debussy and Ravel (Ravel in Chinoiserie mode). At one point this delicate fantasy is grounded by the strains of Elgar's Chanson de matin played on a cor anglais but the peaceful idyllic mood is soon reinstated. A lovely work that perhaps is too fragile for its 19-minute length.
The concert is completed by two shorter works: the Nicole's haunting theme from the 1985 TV production, Tender is the Night, although I would argue that this is not its premiere recording for I remember hearing it the soundtrack recording I purchased at that time. I would also argue that Nicole was rehabilitated by the man she married and it was the strain of that work which caused his destruction! The concluding item is the touching and plaintive love theme for Four Weddings and a Funeral that tended to be overshadowed by more familiar pop source music.
Gamba leads the BBC Philharmonic in committed, romantic performances. A delightful album and strongly recommended.
-- Ian Lace, MusicWeb International
Verlaine et Rimbaud - Poemes dits par Jean-louis Barrault, R
Eller: Complete Piano Music, Vol. 4
• Heino Eller (1887–1970) was one of the founders of the classical tradition in his native Estonia.
• His output for piano – some 200 works – is largely unknown.
• This fourth volume presents Eller’s First Sonata, a Romantic work of gigantic proportions, a number of miniatures, and ends with the Ballade c.
• Volume 3 in this series won a ‘Choice’ award in International Piano.
• Sten Lassmann, an Estonian pianist based in London, studied these works with Eller’s most important piano student.
Ukraine: A Piano Portrait
Chopin: Piano Works, Vol. 2 / Lortie
Volume 1 of his current Chopin series also has received excellent reviews: the magazine Pianist wrote, “He is a pianist of our time when it comes to speed, energy and an unfussy approach to Chopin. His way of playing is like a sharply cut steel sculpture, super elegant and with not one single smudge.” And in the words of International Piano: “These are full-blooded and eloquent performances, an auspicious start to what looks likely to become one of the finest of Chopin surveys.”
Dvorák: Music For Violin And Piano Vol 2 / Zhou, Battersby
Zelenka: Lamentationes Jeremia Propheta
Mystic Life
Schumann: Einsamkeit / Goerne, Hinterhauser
Rozsa: String Quartets No 1 & 2, String Trio / Tippett Quartet
Though Miklós Rózsa became one of the most admired of film composers, he had always written music in other forms and his two published string quartets reveal important facets of his musical background. String Quartet No 1 was written in 1950 when he was under contract with M-G-M and, with its nocturnal and folk-dance imagery, is redolent of his Hungarian youth. String Quartet No 2 is prophetic of his later sparer style, though it too is infused with great energy and high drama. The String Trio, Op 1, recorded for the first time in its original 1929 published version, abounds with youthful vitality.