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Rolla: Viola Concertos, Symphony in D & Tantum ergo / Schiavo, Vitale, Braconi, Il Demetrio
Brilliant Classics · Feb 2019CD$13.99 -
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SaleSgambati: Sinfonia festiva; Piano Concerto / Damerini, La Vecchia, Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma
Naxos · Dec 2023CD$19.99$13.99 -
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Mozart: Piano Concertos, Vol. 2 - K. 449 & 459; Divertimenti / Bavouzet
Chandos · Sep 2017CD$21.99 -
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SaleViotti: Violin Concerto No. 22; Cherubini: Symphony In D
Brilliant Classics · Feb 2024CD$13.99$6.99 -
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Johann Gottlieb Graun: Concertos For Strings / Korol, Moderntimes Ensemble
Challenge Classics · Sep 2009CD$20.99 -
Elgar: Violin Concerto / Znaider, Davis, Dresden Staatskapelle
Sony Masterworks · Jan 2010CD$11.98 -
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Music Of Poul Ruders, Vol. 6 / Søndergard, Norwegian Radio Orchestra
Bridge Records · Mar 2011CD$18.99 -
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Mozart: Piano Concertos 9 & 12, Rondo K 386 / Brautigam
MOZART Piano Concertos: No. 9 in E?, “Jeunehomme”; No. 12 in A. Rondo in A, K 386 • Ronald Brautigam (fp); Michael Alexander Willens, cond; Cologne Academy (period instruments) • BIS 1794 (SACD: 58:36)
When I read the announcement that Ronald Brautigam would be recording the complete piano concertos of Mozart for BIS, I fairly jumped for joy. For anyone who has followed the Dutch pianist’s career on record, as I have, it was clear from the beginning that he was born to record Mozart. This was confirmed when the Mozart sonata recordings were released on BIS. In them, Brautigam combines dazzling technical mastery and beautiful sound with the utmost attention and devotion to the score. Brautigam’s playing is all about brilliance and virtuosity, but he is capable of delivering in the slow movements as well, as we shall see.
It’s easy to say that any given artist is “in a class by himself.” Yet Brautigam’s specialization on the fortepiano truly sets him apart; next to Malcolm Bilson, he has made more recordings on this instrument than any other artist. No longer is the fortepiano a novelty; for many listeners, it has become an essential ingredient in a Mozart concerto. The crisp articulation, sparkling treble and clear bass of Brautigam’s Walter copy are exactly what the music requires. Now when I listen to a Mozart concerto played on modern piano, I find the sound dull and muddy by comparison, and the pianist often seems to be fighting with the instrument. I admit that this newfound attitude of mine is a significant sea change, considering that the heroes of my youth were pianists such as Schnabel, Haskil, Gieseking, Casadesus, Serkin, Brendel, and Rubinstein.
Perhaps less-well understood is Brautigam’s approach to phrasing. Scarcely a phrase goes by, even in the speediest prestos , that has not been personalized in some way. There is nothing perfunctory about his playing; every note has a place and purpose in the overall scheme. Brautigam accomplishes this primarily with dynamics, rather than with rubato in the manner of a harpsichordist. In that sense, you could call his performance style forward-looking, as it points to 19th-century Romanticism, rather than backward toward the Baroque. The five-octave Viennese fortepiano affords the player a wide range of dynamics, almost as much as the modern piano, and Brautigam takes full advantage of the resources at his disposal.
Aside from the various isolated period-instrument recordings that have appeared over the years, there have been exactly two complete traversals of the Mozart concertos on fortepiano: Malcolm Bilson and John Eliot Gardiner on Archiv, and Jos van Immerseel on Channel Classics. There is also one notable aborted series: Robert Levin and Christopher Hogwood on L’Oiseau-Lyre. The Bilson/Gardiner set was the first to appear and is still serviceable (it’s routinely offered at bargain-basement prices on the Internet), but was marred by some raucous oboe playing in the early concertos. The early digital sound is now out-of-date, making it a chore to listen to. I haven’t heard many of the van Immerseel CDs, but the performances I did hear were rather laid-back and uninvolving, while the recorded sound was too distant. The Levin/Hogwood set, which managed to log about two-thirds of the concertos before the breakup of the Universal Music Group, is the most engaging of the three. Professor Robert Levin of Harvard, the foremost Mozart expert on the planet, plays flawlessly; his on-the-spot cadenzas are a marvel and constant delight. The orchestral accompaniments are simply the best thing Hogwood has ever given us on disc. Yet there are also some drawbacks: Levin uses a different fortepiano for practically every concerto—the piano sound varies considerably as a result. At least one of the instruments is substandard and shouldn’t have been recorded at all. And then there is the ultimate hair-puller: Levin and Hogwood stopped before they got to four of the best-loved and greatest concertos: No. 21 in C Major, No. 24 in C Minor, No. 25 in C Major, and No. 27 in B?-Major.
The time is therefore ripe for a new complete set of the Mozart concertos on fortepiano. A comparison with the first CD in the Levin/Hogwood series (L’Oiseau-Lyre 443 328) and the new BIS CD is instructive, since they contain (almost) the same music. Only the Rondo K 386 is lacking on the older recording. Surprisingly, Levin and Brautigam adopt nearly identical tempos throughout. A measure-for-measure comparison of both pianists, however, reveals that while Levin’s passagework is as clean as a whistle, he often comes across as a bit cold and mathematical. Brautigam’s playing, on the other hand, brims with life and personality. He caresses and shapes every phrase; there is never any doubt what the message is or where the music is headed. And both the minor-mode Andantino of K 271 and the Andante of K 414 are deeply felt and affecting, proving that there’s more to Brautigam’s pianism than “glitter and be gay.”
The wild card in this new release is the Cologne Academy. Very few people on this side of the Atlantic have heard it or its CDs. The Fanfare Archive, for example, lists only one CD, a recording of an oratorio by Medner. On the present CD, the strings are very nicely in tune and unanimous but also a little thin in tone, due to the small size of the group (4-3-2-2-1). The liner notes hint, however, that the group will grow as required for the later works. The winds, consisting here of pairs of oboes and horns, are colorful and well behaved, although a bit too prominent in relation to the strings for my taste (or is it that the strings are undernourished?). The fiercest competition in the orchestral department comes from Hogwood’s Academy of Ancient Music; I admit to being partial to that group’s fullness and suavity of sound.
Typically for BIS, the recorded sound is rich and detailed. Every nuance of Brautigam’s piano is discernable, from the luminous treble to the growl of the low bass. The instrument is placed rather forward in relation to the ensemble, but the overall soundstage is deep, wide, and totally believable. The preceding remarks pertain to the SACD layer; these benefits are less obvious on the regular Redbook CD layer. Anyone who has played in a chamber ensemble with strings will be familiar with the slightly edgy sound of live violins, and SACD technology is ruthless in its ability to reproduce this characteristic. Be forewarned: The period violins on this recording can be a trifle piercing at times, but the simple solution is to cut back on the volume a bit.
Except for the Rondo K.386 (where the pianist supplies his own), Brautigam plays the cadenzas that Mozart composed in the final year of his life for most of the piano concertos, collected under the rubric K.624. There are two authentic cadenzas for second movement of K.414; Brautigam plays the first. Although no indication is given, the assumption is that Brautigam will continue to use authentic Mozart cadenzas in subsequent recordings.
A most auspicious beginning for the series—highly recommended.
FANFARE: Christopher Brodersen
Pejacevic: Symphony, Op. 41; Phantasie Concertante / Rasilainen, Banfield, Rheinland-pfalz State Philharmonic
PEJA?EVI? Symphony in f?. Phantasie Concertante for Piano and Orchestra • Ari Rasilainen, cond; Volker Banfield (pn); Rheinland-Pfalz St PO • CPO 777418 (62:42)
Cpo, a label noted for ferreting out obscure repertoire, has outdone itself this time by digging up not just another female composer—that alone wouldn’t be so rare—but a Croatian one to boot. Heretofore, I don’t think I could have named a single Croatian composer of any gender, but now I can. Short-lived Dora Peja?evi? (1885–1923) was actually born in Budapest, the daughter of a Croatian father and a Hungarian mother, the Countess Lilla Vay de Vaya, an accomplished pianist and Dora’s first teacher. On her father’s side, Dora was descended from a distinguished noble family in Slavonia, the eastern region of Croatia. In composition, she was largely self-taught, but she did receive some private instruction in Zagreb, Dresden, and Munich. She died at 38 following complications of childbirth.
During her short life, she produced 58 documented works. That number isn’t particularly noteworthy compared to other composers who died even younger and wrote much more, but what is worth mentioning is that like another female composer, the French Louise Farrenc (1804–75), Peja?evi? competed with the boys in the arena of large symphonic, concerted orchestral, and chamber works. In addition to the symphony and concert fantasy on this disc, known and/or published works include a piano concerto, sonatas for piano, violin, and cello, and a piano quintet. During her life, her music was not entirely unknown in the music capitals of Europe; it was heard in Vienna, Munich, Budapest, and Prague.
The works Peja?evi? left behind, to the extent they were acknowledged at all, must have seemed hopelessly outdated by a musical intelligentsia preoccupied with the latest compositional novelties. It’s not just that she embraced a musical vocabulary practically indistinguishable from any number of late 19th-century Romantic composers, but by the time she came to begin her F?-Minor Symphony in 1916, completing it a year later, the era of the big Romantic symphony was on life support, or at least on recuperative leave. Mahler had pretty much seen to that a decade earlier. Last-stand efforts by Rachmaninoff, Sibelius, Franz Schmidt, and a number of others didn’t change the fact that the symphony, as inherited from the 19th century, was about to take on new forms and modes of expression in the 20th.
Peja?evi?’s symphony, like Rachmaninoff’s Second, may have been written in the 20th century, but it belongs to the 19th. It’s your standard-issue four-movement effusively romantic affair—a rich tapestry spun from strands of long-breathed chromatically enhanced melody, luxuriant harmony, and opulent orchestration. It doesn’t seem to be much influenced by the Mahler-Zemlinsky-Schoenberg axis, though perhaps that shouldn’t be a surprise considering the very complex cultural cross-pollination of Croatia’s history by Hungarian, Italian, and even Russian influences. In fact, isolated passages throughout Peja?evi?’s symphony remind me a bit of Glazunov. But there are so many other crosscurrents going on in the score, not least of which is a passage at 7:54 in the first movement that sounds like it escaped from Dukas’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice . But it quickly morphs into something that sounds like it was lifted from Strauss’s An Alpine Symphony.
If there’s any surprise at all in Peja?evi?’s piece it’s how upbeat and optimistic it sounds for a work ostensibly in a minor key. Her melodies have an almost Italianate character to them in their lithe and graceful manner, and if the title and notes didn’t identify the piece as being in minor, I’d bet the farm it was in major.
The piano Phantasie Concertante came two years after completion of the symphony. In a single movement lasting almost 15 minutes, the piece is a virtuoso vehicle that alternates between Gershwin-like bluesy harmonies and jazzy rhythms on the one hand and keyboard figuration right out of Rachmaninoff on the other. Just listen to the broad, lush melody beginning in the cellos at 6:12 and the florid passagework in the piano weaving around and entwining with it. It could have come from the first movement of Rachmaninoff’s Second Concerto. I hope someone from Hyperion is reading this, because Peja?evi?’s Phantasie and probably her piano concerto as well are ideal candidates for the next volume of the Romantic Piano Concerto series.
When you hear this piece you will wonder how Peja?evi? could have been forgotten. If the climax to the lengthy aforementioned passage doesn’t sweep you away, I can’t think of much else that will. The fact that Peja?evi? could develop, build, and sustain a musical paragraph of such length is evidence in itself that the woman could write circles around many of her peers, male or female.
Pianist Volker Banfield is stunning, as are conductor Ari Rasilainen and his Rheinland-Pfalz State Philharmonic forces. Cpo has done it again. I thought I’d already settled on my annual Want List selections, but this dark horse entry is just going to have to push another pick aside. Urgently recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Rolla: Viola Concertos, Symphony in D & Tantum ergo / Schiavo, Vitale, Braconi, Il Demetrio
As both conductor at La Scala from 1802 to 1833, and a professor at the new conservatoire in Milan, Alessandro Rolla (1757-1841) was the heartbeat of Milanese music in the turbulent early decades of the 19th century. He was also an accomplished performer on both violin and viola, and his own compositional output reflects his instrumental mastery, filtered through his experience of leading the Italian premieres of quartets and symphonies by Beethoven as well as operas by Mozart: he was a complete musician of his time. The F major Viola Concerto opening this attractive new album belongs to Rolla’s apprentice years in service to the ducal court at Parma. With its uncompromising technical demands and unwavering focus on the solo instrument, the concerto represents a missing link between the idioms of Tartini and Paganini. The dawn of bel canto may be discerned in the slow movement of the album’s concluding D minor Viola Concerto, which concludes with a charmingly bucolic Rondo. Dating from Rolla’s Milanese years, the 1805 Tantum ergo also features a concertante role for the viola, in sinuous accompaniment to the vocal bass soloist: a highly original device perhaps prompted by Mozart’s famous Sinfonia Concertante. As a performer, Rolla reserved the most haunting melodies and moments for himself: After a vocal cadenza on the closing Amen it is the viola that sets the seal on the work with an intensely lyrical phrase and a brilliantly virtuosic stretta. The D major Sinfonia likewise belongs to the first decade of the 1800s – infused with Rossinian verve and bubbling with operatic drama in the quick outer movements. The Milanese violist Simonide Braconi plays Rolla’s music to the manner born, being the long-standing principal violist at La Scala. He is accompanied here by a chamber orchestra based in nearby Pavia and specialising in Classical-era works by neglected composers.
Mayseder: Violin Concertos, Vol. 3
Anton Eberl: Piano Concertos, Op. 32 & 40
EBERL Piano Concertos: in E?, op. 40 1; in C, op. 32 2 • 1 Paolo Giacometti, 2 Riko Fukuda (fp); Michael Alexander Willens, cond; Cologne Academy (period instruments) • CPO 777354 (62:03)
One of these concertos, the C Major, is familiar to me through a 2000 Koch Schwann CD featuring pianist James McChesney with the Slovak Philharmonic Bratislava led by Karl Kemper. Comparison with the current performance is instructive because McChesney’s version is a modern-instrument affair, while this new one uses period instruments or copies thereof. A c.1810 fortepiano by Viennese maker Mathias Müller from the Edwin Beunk collection is pictured on the inside of the booklet’s front page, and since no other instrument is mentioned in the text, I assume this is the one that was used for the recording.
Anton Eberl (1765–1807) has thus far barely made inroads into our musical consciousness. A handful of his works on a couple of CDs has found its way into previous Fanfare reviews, one by Brian Robins, the other by yours truly. Poor Eberl, his music considered second-rate in our time for being too derivative of and inferior to Mozart’s, and considered too good in his own time to be by anyone but Mozart. He had to write a letter to a widely read newspaper assuring the public that he, Eberl, was indeed the legitimate composer of the misattributed works. I wonder if anyone believed him, or if they thought he was a publicity-seeking fraud. Most of his more than 200 works are said to have disappeared, but a number of chamber works, pieces for solo piano, and these concertos remain and have been recorded.
It’s immediately obvious that the two works on this disc follow the pattern of the late 18th-century piano concerto perfected by Mozart. But further listening reveals details in both the scoring for orchestra and the type of keyboard figuration that ought to be clues to the trained ear that Eberl is closer to Beethoven than he is to Mozart. In the matter of scoring, Eberl’s approach to the orchestra is on a grander scale, making particularly bold use of horns and trumpets to articulate entrances and exits. Listen, for example, to the trumpet flourishes at the end of the first movement of the E?-Concerto. Passages for winds are also more extensive and more elaborate.
In the matter of keyboard figuration, Eberl doesn’t fall back on Alberti-bass left-hand patterns as often as Mozart does, and Beethoven-like passages in octaves and thirds appear more often than they do in Mozart. It would be a mistake, however, to conclude that Eberl is somehow a missing link between Mozart and Beethoven, for both of his concertos performed here were completed in 1804, nine and seven years, respectively, after Beethoven’s Second and First concertos. Given that, it’s likely that Eberl heard Beethoven’s concertos and was more influenced by them than he was by Mozart’s, which by then already belonged to an earlier era.
These performances are absolutely wonderful. The fortepiano can sound a little opaque in the lower middle register and bass, but its upper range sparkles. Comparing Willens’s reading of the C-Major Concerto with Riko Fukuda to that by Kemper with McChesney, I am really surprised by the difference in interpretive approach. Kemper/McChesney is much faster in all three movements—too fast, I think—than Willens/Fukuda: 12:18, 8:42, 8:45 vs. 14:09, 10:20, 10:02. Ironically, this makes Kemper/McChesney sound more like Mozart and less like Beethoven than the other way around, because Beethoven’s concerto allegros are more allegro moderato and his andantes more adagio than Mozart’s. Even though the Kemper/McChesney is a modern-instrument performance, the Willens/Fukuda has a greater sense of gravity and purposefulness to it.
The comparison applies only to the C-Major Concerto, since the Koch Schwann CD doesn’t couple it with the E?-Major Concerto. Paolo Giacometti’s playing in the latter is every bit as spirited and satisfying as Fukuda’s in the C-Major Concerto. An excellent recording, as is customary for CPO, adds to the strong recommendation for this release.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Sgambati: Sinfonia festiva; Piano Concerto / Damerini, La Vecchia, Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma
Between 1879 and 1880, as he approached his 40th birthday, Giovanni Sgambati completed his Piano Concerto in G minor, a work on which he had been working for about two years. It was a significant moment for Italian instrumental music: it was, in fact, the first Romantic piano concerto by a composer from the country that had given the world both the instrument, invented by Cristofori almost two centuries earlier, and the genre itself.
The Piano Concerto displays an assured compositional hand. It constitutes not only a new beginning for Italian piano music but also a synthesis of the possibilities offered by the genre. An extremely difficult work to play, it is not immediately accessible on a first hearing, given the density of its material, but reveals more about Sgambati’s inventiveness and technical mastery every time you listen to it.
The Sinfonia festiva (Ouverture de fête) was composed in 1878 or 1879, making it contemporaneous with the Piano Concerto and proof of Sgambati’s growing dedication to orchestral music. It is a short but mature work, confidently written, clearly inspired by the dance-like character of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. Three main themes, the first lean and lively, the second more lyrical, the third impudent and leaping, are organized according to the principle of sonata form, with a development section in which the initial motif pops up time and again, wandering between tonalities, sometimes giving the impression of formal freedom, sometimes of obeying rondo form.
REVIEW:
A pupil of Liszt, Giovanni Sgambati (1841-1914) stood out among 19th-century Italian pianists for his advocacy of the German school and classical models. His massive three-movement Piano Concerto in G minor (1880) might be described as a hybrid that fuses the similarly scaled Brahms D minor concerto with piano writing marked by Lisztian bravura.
Imagine Liszt reworking the echt-Hungarian finale of Brahms’ Violin Concerto for piano on his own stylistic terms, and you’ll get an idea of what Sgambati’s third movement sounds like. Similarly, the grandiose first movement owes much of its existence to the arpeggiated flourishes in Beethoven’s Emperor concerto first movement and motives from Liszt’s Hungarian Fantasy.
Recorded live in 2013, the (late) pianist Massimiliano Damerini handled the daunting piano part with brilliance and confidence. He positively opens up and thrives in front of an audience.
Both conductor and orchestra make a splendid case for the delightful Sinfonia festiva (‘Ouverture de fête’), presented in its world premiere recording here.
-- ClassicsToday.com (Jed Distler)
Mozart: Piano Concertos, Vol. 2 - K. 449 & 459; Divertimenti / Bavouzet
The effervescent and communicative energy of Bavouzet and Takacs-Nagy is encapsulated again in this second volume of their Mozart series. These exhilarating interpretations of Mozart’s piano concertos of 1784, faultlessly supported by the Manchester Camerata, follow highly praised concerts as well as a first volume which was “Editor’s Choice” in Pianist. The two concertos presented here are among the six that Mozart composed in Vienna in an extraordinarily productive year. As Bavouzet states in an exclusive personal note, they “share their association with operatic and symphonic styles. The contrasts of mood in their first movements relate them more closely with music for the operatic stage, while their finales are conceived in purely instrumental terms and make reference to the symphonic domain. On the other hand, these two works are complete opposites as far as their use of wind instruments is concerned. In KV 449 their inclusion is ad libitum, whereas they very often play the principal role in KV 459.”
REVIEWS:
Led by Adi Brett, the ensemble is ideally sized for this repertoire, especially in the string department. Because clearly only players of the highest calibre are engaged, the character here is much more akin to the intimacy of a chamber group ensemble than a true symphonic ensemble, the clue, of course, partly being in the name. But that is not to say that there is not power-a-plenty when called for. The very opening of the E flat Concerto, in fact, says it all in a nutshell: absolute precision in the ornaments, great clarity of line where any instrument that has something important to say at any one point stands out, but never dominates the texture, and the impressive attack as the music goes into the relative minor (C minor, and one of the composer’s favourite keys for drama) around twenty-five seconds into the exposition. These all mark out this performance as something special, even before the soloist has made his own telling first contribution. It is clear that both sheer dynamism and enthusiasm in the orchestral playing emanates from the man at the front, Budapest-born Gábor Takács-Nagy, who also works just as hard to nurture the more lyrical side of the music. That is something he is more able to do by forsaking the baton, and itself something perfectly feasible for this size of ensemble.
But when Bavouzet makes his first appearance, he takes over exactly where the Camerata have left off, attesting to a great feeling of empathy between soloist and conductor. All too often, the soloist’s body language can suggest a degree of displeasure at the way the orchestra deals with the opening themes that the soloist will then make use of in the ensuing solo exposition.
In discussing his previous Mozart CD, Bavouzet explains his choice of the Yamaha CFX instrument: “When considering a piano for this project I immediately thought about a Yamaha. The wonderful comfort of the keyboard action, the refined sound, and the natural balance between bass and treble were qualities that made my choice obvious and perfect for the Mozart Concertos.” Although a life-long Steinway aficionado, I have to agree with his comments, in as much as the piano-sound on this new CD is concerned, enhanced, of course, by the outstanding fidelity of the recording as a whole, and the warm acoustic of the venue.
With the added generosity of two well-known and much loved Divertimenti—in D major, KV 136, and F major, KV 138, respectively—where the Manchester Camerata really comes into its own with some stunning playing, there can be little doubt that this new CD is the perfect successor.
-- MusicWeb International
BACH, MOZART, BRITTEN CONCERTI
ADELA
William Sterndale Bennett: Piano Concerto Nos. 4 & 6 and Con
Haydn: The Complete Piano Sonatas, Vol. 2 / Bavouzet
"Bavouzet’s Haydn is unmatched in its zest and its wit. But it is also substantial, informed and deeply rewarding."
--The New York Times on Bavouzet's Haydn Sonatas cycle, 2022
The multi-award winning and ever-popular Jean-Efflam Bavouzet is back with Volume 2 of Chandos' highly acclaimed Haydn Sonata series. This new release follows Bavouzet's complete Debussy cycle and a number of recent concerto recordings - all of which have been extraordinarily well received by critics and audiences alike, picking up numerous awards along the way.
Many leading pianists have tackled these at times technically challenging classical sonatas by Haydn, but in Bavouzet's own words, this is a composer who always left the door open for new interpretations: 'One often forgets how little information Haydn left in the text of his keyboard works: few instructions on nuance and phrasing, and very minimal tempo indications. Playing them is all the more fascinating for that, but it is also arduous and even risky for the performer, who must, even more than usual, create his or her own world and internal logic, only hoping - in the absence of tangible proof - that he or she is not straying too far from the composer's intentions, forever out of reach.'
For the recording Bavouzet brought in a specially selected Yamaha piano which he feels gives the sort of tonal quality he is looking for, and it shows in the programme for Volume 2 which includes the elegantly virtuosic Sonata in E minor, No. 19; Sonata in B flat major, No. 20; Sonata in G minor, No. 32; Sonata in C major, No. 48, and Sonata in D major, No. 50.
REVIEWS
Though better known in French repertory, Mr Bavouzet has begun an exploration of Haydn’s long-underrated sonatas. The first installment was dazzling, and the second is too: crisp and detailed. Mr Bavouzet’s slow movements are particularly memorable; he shows instinctive feeling for the way this music breathes.
--New York Times (Zachary Woolfe)
This second volume in Jean-Efflam Bavouzet’s Haydn sonata is every bit as outstanding as the first…the sonics are as brilliant and natural as the playing. A wonderful recital, from first note to last.
--ClassicsToday.com (David Hurwitz)
Viotti: Violin Concerto No. 22; Cherubini: Symphony In D
TABULA RASA / SYMPHONY 1 / COLLAGE ON A THEME BACH
Johann Gottlieb Graun: Concertos For Strings / Korol, Moderntimes Ensemble
The Graun brothers, Carl Heinrich and Johann Gottlieb are important representatives of the generation of composers between the baroque and classical eras. Johann Gottlieb attended the Kreuzschule in Dresden and later studied at Leipzig University. He received lessons on the violin from the then most prominent violinist in Germany, Johann Georg Pisendel. He also travelled to Italy, where he became acquainted with Giuseppe Tartini. Back home he was appointed concertmaster of the orchestra of the Prussian Crown Prince Frederick, while Carl Heinrich secured the position of Kapellmeister. Graun held this position until his death. He was also active as a violin teacher; among his pupils were Franz Benda - from 1733 onwards also a member of Frederick's orchestra - and Wilhelm Friedemann Bach.
Graun composed many concertos, mostly for violin, which were to be played by himself and reflect his own skills as a violin virtuoso. Burney reports that he was greatly admired as a composer who combined pleasant melodies with counterpoint and was generally considered "one of the greatest violinists of his day".
The concertos on these two discs show that he gradually moved away from counterpoint. The Concerto in c minor is the earliest piece in this set and was written in 1730 or even earlier. Particularly beautiful is the largo in which the violin moves over a tutti which is dominated by a motif of three notes. Although the scoring includes two oboes they have no independent parts but play colla parte with the violins.
That is also the case in the Concerto for two violins in G. The scoring includes two parts for horns, and these are independent and play a noticeable role in the fast movements, but are silent in the adagio. This movement is dominated by Seufzer and descending figures, both in the solo parts and in the tutti.
Graun's acquaintance with Giuseppe Tartini has had a strong influence on his compositional style. The Italian master didn't avoid virtuosity, but gave priority to expression. That is also the main feature of Graun's concertos, and it is no coincidence that in two concertos the slow movements are the longest. In the Concerto in F the second movement, mesto, is almost twice as long as the fast movements. That is different in the Concerto for viola in E flat. It is one of only two concertos for this instrument which are known from Graun. It is a particularly beautiful work, with a magnificent cantabile solo part in the middle movement, with the character indication 'adagio, un poco andante'.
The only piece which is not by Graun is the Concerto in A, which is attributed to Markus Heinrich Grauel. He is an almost completely unknown quantity, and has no entry in New Grove. The concerto is to be found in the archive of the Berlin Singakademie, and it says 'del Sigr. Grauel'. The man to which it is attributed was cellist in the court orchestra in Berlin from 1763. Considering his style he is thought to have been a pupil of Graun. It is less virtuosic but quite beautiful. The first movement is dominated by drum basses, a feature of many compositions from the mid-18th century.
Ilia Korol and Piroska Batori give excellent performances of the solo parts. The dialogue between the two violins is very well worked out and there is a good balance between the two violins. The viola concerto is definitely one of the highlights of this set, and the viola is brilliantly played by Ilia Korol. The horn parts are impressively executed by Oliver Kersken and Stefan Oetter, and also well recorded as they are clearly audible.
In short, this is a very fine production which sheds light on the oeuvre of a composer whose violin concertos need to be further explored.
-- Johan van Veen, MusicWeb International
William Sterndale Bennett: Complete Piano Concertos
Elgar: Violin Concerto / Znaider, Davis, Dresden Staatskapelle
This 2010 release coincides with the 100th anniversary of the premiere of Elgar’s Concerto for Violin in B minor. In this performance, Nikolaj Znaider plays the Guarnerius “del Gesu” 1741 violin, which Fritz Kreisler (to whom the concerto was dedicated) played in the concerto’s 1910 premiere in London, with Elgar conducting.
Strauss & Bartok: Violin Concertos
Sgambati Collection (Italian Romantics Series)
Ries: 3 Violin Sonatas / Grossman, Kagan
Ferdinand Ries was Beethoven’s student, close friend and biographer, but until quite recently was very much one of those composers living in the shadow of his Bonn master, rather than as the gifted and prolific composer he in fact was.
American pianist, author and educator Susan Kagan has explored the music of those composers associated with Beethoven and his musical scene. In fact she has researched the music of Archduke Rudolph – Beethoven’s composition student for more than twenty years – for her Ph.D. This was subsequently published by Pendragon Press back in 1988. More recently she has almost single-handedly championed the cause of Ries’s piano music, with five CDs of his Sonatas and Sonatinas on the Naxos label.
Kagan explains: ‘Ries studied piano with Beethoven (both were natives of Bonn, Germany) and was entrusted by him with such work as making transcriptions and piano arrangements, and copying orchestral parts of Beethoven’s new works. Ries moved to England in 1813, married an Englishwoman, and had a successful career touring as a virtuoso concert pianist. At the same time he was composing prodigiously and virtually everything he wrote was published. His thorough knowledge of Beethoven’s music undoubtedly helped shape Ries’s style, but his piano sonatas, from 1809 on, show an adventurous turn toward an expressive keyboard style anticipating that of the first generation of Romantic piano composers – Mendelssohn, Chopin, and Schumann. His gift for melody is like Schubert’s, and he is ever inventive in creating and developing beautiful themes. While his symphonies and concertos are ‘public’ works, intended for large audiences and concert halls, the piano sonatas are his most personally-expressive works, revealing an individual outlook on a genre of music cultivated by that great triumvirate of the Classical period – Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven.’
Ries also composed eighteen violin sonatas, which were brought out by Bonn music-publisher, Simrock, who also published much of Beethoven’s music. On this latest release from Naxos, Kagan is joined by violinist and fellow-American Eric Grossman, in an exploration of three of Ries’s violin sonatas, two from his op. 8 set, and his op. 19, all world-première recordings. However, unlike the piano sonatas, which have been released as part of a series of volumes, by starting here with a well-chosen selection from the eighteen extant examples, it gives the record company the option of releasing further violin sonatas in the future, or just letting this present single CD speak on behalf of the other fifteen.
It is interesting that the opening movements of the Sonata in F, Op. 8 No. 1, recorded first, and the Sonata in C minor, Op. 8 No. 2 that follows, have more than just a passing acquaintance with movements by Beethoven himself. While the latter first movement is very reminiscent of the corresponding movement from Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in the same key, Op. 10 No. 3, the F major Sonata opens in a pastoral vein, with a main theme which immediately hints at Beethoven’s ‘Spring’ Sonata for violin and piano in the same key. Rather than reinforcing the idea that Ries is merely mimicking his teacher – what follows, in both of Ries’s sonatas, after the initial ‘homage to Ludwig’, really does confirm that the younger composer has an individual voice, and subsequently embarks on quite a different musical journey from his master.
Of the violin sonatas as a whole, Kagan continues: ‘(They) are models of the Viennese Classical sonata style established by Mozart: most are in three movements, with first movements in sonata-allegro form, lyrical slow movements in ternary (ABA) form, and rondo finales. Like Mozart, Ries divides the material to provide equal interest for both instruments.’ The Sonata in F largely adheres to this pattern, though is, in fact, a four-movement work, with a sprightly Scherzo and Trio in the tonic minor (F minor) following the opening ‘Allegro ma non troppo’, before a conventional, though short slow movement, leads to the finale, with its essentially rustic theme. However, this soon contrasts with the central episode, where staccato triplets evolve into a vigorous fugato section (like a fugue, but not fully played-out), and something which, according to Kagan in her compact, yet succinct and informative sleeve-notes, is an unusual event in Ries’s music, where polyphonic writing is ‘generally avoided’.
The characteristic dotted rhythms and robust dynamics of the ‘Allegro con spirito’ that open the Sonata in C minor, imbue it initially with an almost martial character, but this soon turns lyrical, in which vein the ensuing ‘Adagio cantabile’ slow movement continues, and which also then acts as the perfect aperitif to the lightness of the closing rondo, with its staccato texture and preponderance of rapid repeated notes.
The so-named Grande Sonata in F minor, while the shortest of the three works on the CD, is nevertheless conceived in large scale, both with regards structure and content, and with its key, and the dramatic insistence of the opening movement’s main theme, link it in character to Beethoven’s ‘Appassionata’ piano sonata, written some five years earlier. Unlike Beethoven’s work, Ries’s sonata begins with a short and poignant ‘Largo espressivo’ introduction – not unlike the opening of Beethoven’s earlier ‘Pathétique’ sonata, but providing nowhere near as dramatic a lead-in. Ries maintains the feverish mood of the ‘Allegro agitato’ throughout, despite the occasional sections away from the over-arching minor tonality, and the movement’s calmly-understated close. The following slow movement, in a gentle triple measure, and in the relative major key (A flat major), has a simple charm and eloquence that makes it extremely endearing and pleasing on the ear, but with sufficient contrast within, to hold the listener’s attention throughout. The overall playful mood of the final rondo also has more than enough variety, both rhythmically and melodically in its main theme and episodes, to sustain it, with some real fireworks in the central episode. The music has a decidedly Schubertian feel, both thematically, and in Ries’s use of tonality, where more remote keys figure, and there is often a characteristic shift from major to minor and back. Yet again Ries chooses to finish like a lamb, rather than a lion – something Beethoven does in the opening movement of his ‘Appassionata’, but not in the work’s tumultuous and clattering coda to the finale.
Whichever way you look at this latest Ries CD from Naxos, you will surely not be disappointed. The playing, positioning and recording are first-rate, and the three pieces recorded are charming, entertaining and with a good feel for motivic development. Whether they form part of a more extended investigation into the composer’s repertoire for violin and piano, or remain just a one-off sampler, at the bargain price offered, they are simply too good to miss.
– Philip R Buttall, MusicWeb International
Vivaldi: Violin Concertos / Sasso, Insieme Strumetale Di Roma
VIVALDI Violin Concertos: in F, RV 287; in g, RV 321; in d, RV 240 . Double Violin Concertos: in C, RV 508; in g, RV 517. String Concertos: in C, RV 113; in D, RV 123 • Giorgio Sasso (vn, cond); Paolo Perrone (vn); Insieme Strumentale di Roma (period instruments) • STRADIVARIUS 33944 (68:09)
Stradivarius’s notes somewhat vaguely mention world premiere recordings; three of these works, RV 240, 508, 517, have appeared in collections reviewed, or to be reviewed, in Fanfare (RV 240 and RV 508 appear in the recording by Il Pomo d’Oro, Naïve 30550, while Gli Incogniti included RV 517 in their collection on Zig-Zag 310, 36:4). Giorgio Sasso’s recording with Insieme Strumentale di Roma took place in the Church of San Lorenzo in Panisperna in October 2011.
The program opens with the Violin Concerto in F Major, RV 287, beginning with bumptious resonant strokes that the ensemble surrounds with reverberant silence. The engineers have miked Giorgio Sasso, who already proves to be an aggressive violin soloist, up close, revealing both the starch in his articulation and the considerable beauty of his tone. Violinist and ensemble eschew lightening tempos, achieving their effects timbrally rather than temporally. They bring out the contrast between the brilliant upper registers and the booming bass parts (all with only six instruments—but including organ in the concertos, RV 240 and RV 113). In the slow movement, too, they combine the warmth of I Musici’s old recordings (or those of the Virtuosi di Roma) and the elegance of Arthur Grumiaux’s Baroque recreations with the chunkiness characteristic of many now mainstream period-instrument ensembles. When the textures support the balance, the engineers focus on the harpsichord part, as they do in RV 287’s Largo . Sasso interlaces the Finale with pointed rhythmic interjections.
The Concerto in C Major, RV 508, for Two Violins, begins with a sweeping tutti, but the soloists engage in virtuosic dialogue through much of the movement, and Sasso and Paolo Perrone carom off each other like so many weightless and frictionless billiard balls. In the slow movement, Sasso and Perrone stretch engaging ruminations over a framework of steady notes in the upper strings, while in the Finale they cavort vivaciously if not virtuosically.
The program’s other Double Violin Concerto, RV 517, in G Minor, follows. Its first movement begins fugally (and this fugal writing returns later toward the movement’s end), and the ensemble prises apart the contrapuntal lines with a clarity of cleanly etched glass. The violin soloists provide relief in arch homophonic interplay. They generally play together, too, burnishing affecting emotional highlights on the slow movement’s stately melodic material. The Finale also begins contrapuntal, but features more homophonic solo sections, recalling those in the first movement. Sasso and Perrone bring enough crisp gusto even to these less prepossessing solos to keep the music perpetually fresh.
The ensemble pieces the first movement of the String Concerto, RV 113 in C Major, out of insistent, infectious rhythmic motives, but provides a moment of respite by making the figuration of the slow movement flow gently before the brisk repartee of the Finale. The soloists and ensemble alternate portentous statements and playful figurations in the first movement of the Violin Concerto in G Minor, RV 321. After their lyricism in the slow movement, they return to stronger punctuation in the Finale. The Violin Concerto in D Minor, RV 240, joined by continuo organ in the ensemble’s recording, appears the longest of the works in their program. Pablo Queipo de Llano’s notes suggest that Vivaldi wrote it between 1710 and 1715; and while he notes the incisiveness of its melodic elements, listeners may fasten instead upon the flowing lyricism that Sasso brings to its first movement, the ensemble’s dramatic interjections in the slow movement surrounding the melting lyricism of the solo part, and the leaping figuration that Sasso negotiates with such violinistic agility in the Finale. The program concludes with another of the string concertos, RV 123 in D Major, shortest of the works on the program. The ensemble’s jubilant playing of the first movement, its steady figuration alternating in dynamic level, the at times hushed solemnity it brings to the brief slow movement, and the fugal splendor of the Finale’s opening (reminiscent of Bach’s Fourth Brandenburg Concerto), make the work a memorable conclusion to the program.
If Bach learned a great deal about Italian concertos by transcribing Vivaldi’s works in the genre, he missed one of the central pillars that support them: their soloistic drama. That’s in evidence in Stradivarius’s recording, one of the most balanced and exhilarating of Vivaldi’s concertos that’s come my way in the last several years. Urgently recommended.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
BACH: ITALIAN CONCERTO - GOLD VINYL
Music Of Poul Ruders, Vol. 6 / Søndergard, Norwegian Radio Orchestra
RUDERS Piano Concerto No. 2 1. Serenade on the Shores of the Cosmic Ocean 2. Bel Canto 3 • 1 Vassily Primakov (pn); 1 Thomas Søndergard, cond; 1 Norwegian RO; 2 Mikko Luoma (acc); 2 iO Str Qrt; 3 Rune Tonsgaard Sørensen (vn) • BRIDGE 9336 (64:03)
Bridge Records, a company primarily known for its commitment to contemporary American composers like Elliott Carter, continues to promote the music of the Dane Poul Ruders (b.1949). This disc is the sixth in its Ruders series. It contains compelling performances of two recent works of considerable power.
Ruders’s music has been described as a triumph of stylistic pluralism. What that means in listener’s terms is that you can never be sure the composer is going in the direction you think he is; he retains a genuine ability to surprise. Both the larger works on this disc provide examples of this. His very recent Piano Concerto No. 2 (2009–10) begins in a relatively romantic vein, evident more in its flow than its thematic material or harmony, but as the movement evolves the piano develops an almost aggressive desperation: a determination to break the formal and harmonic boundaries with frequent attacks and note clusters. The roles are reversed in the extraordinary slow movement. This consists for the most part of a tentative, exploratory line of single notes in the piano’s treble, discreetly supported by vibraphone, harp, and a solo violin. The soft, meandering solo is confronted from time to time by orchestral onslaughts of dissonant brass, squealing piccolos, and fearsome fortissimos , which seem to have no effect on the dissociative soloist, although the first of these interruptions would probably have a visceral effect on concertgoers in a live performance! In the third and final movement, the piano takes control and ushers in a brilliant and rapid moto perpetuo that crams as many notes as possible into its four and a half minutes. Ruders uses a traditional framework but fills it with quirky episodes, unexpected colors, and—in a phrase—pushes the concerto envelope. The work is similarly formal in shape but more wide-ranging in effect than his first Piano Concerto of 1994.
Color is at the forefront of Serenade on the Shores of the Cosmic Ocean , a 2004 suite in nine continuous movements for accordion and string quartet. Here Ruders displays great imagination in his exploitation of the extremes of the accordion’s range, and by blending it into the many textural devices available to the quartet. The work is inspired by literature from a variety of sources, including Shakespeare, Darwin, and Conrad; quotations or references preface each section. It begins with a cataclysmic explosion of sound (tone clusters from the accordion predominate), which gradually morphs into a passage of warm, lyrical beauty and eventually into single, long-held high notes, rather the way a composition by Silvestrov proceeds. We move through many moods, some incorporating a degree of grotesquery in galumphing ostinatos or deep growls from the lowest reaches of the solo instrument. Then in contrast the composer will lure us into pure neoromanticism—as in the sixth movement, “Threnos,” prefaced by a quotation from Shakespeare’s The Phoenix and the Turtle : “Beauty, truth and rarity / Grace in all simplicity / Here enclosed in cinders lie.” At all times in this work, as is usual with Ruders, the listener has little idea what is coming next.
The accompanying Bel Canto (also 2004) is for solo violin, commissioned by the Carl Nielsen International Violin Competition. As the title suggests it is primarily a cantabile , although there are moments of double-stopping in minor seconds to provide the unexpected. A folk or hymn-like tune brings the lament to a quiet close.
The music on this recording is a challenge but also a pleasure to get to know. It is performed with dedication and brilliance; I can’t praise highly enough the talents of pianist Primakov, violinist Sørensen, the iO Quartet (whose personnel are violinists Christina McGann and Sarah Crocker, violist Elizabeth Weisser, and cellist Chris Gross) and the remarkable accordion virtuoso Mikko Luoma. Want List material.
FANFARE: Phillip Scott
Conciertos Románticos / Osorio, Prieto, Minería Symphony
Celebrated Mexican-born pianist Jorge Federico Osorio, “one of the most elegant and accomplished pianists on the planet” (Los Angeles Times) performs Romantic-era concertos and solo pieces by Mexican composers Ricardo Castro and Manuel María Ponce. A recipient of the prestigious Medalla Bellas Artes, the highest honor granted by Mexico’s National Institute of Fine Arts, Osorio is joined for the concertos by Mexican conductor Carlos Miguel Prieto, Musical America’s 2019 Conductor of the Year, and the Orquesta Sinfónica de Minería.
The works on this recording exemplify the highest point of the romantic musical language in vogue in Mexico at the end of the 19th century, which later initiated the musical Nationalist movement brought on by the Mexican Revolution. Both Castro and Ponce made significant contributions to the development of classical music in Mexico, and their music reflects a synthesis of Mexican and European traditions, with influences from Chopin, Liszt, and Debussy. Castro’s Piano Concerto in A minor exemplifies true romanticism with lavish and spectacular orchestral lines. Serving as companion pieces to the concerto, Osorio performs three of Castro’s charming and expressive solo works: Berceuse, Canto de amor, and Plainte. Ponce’s Piano Concerto No. 1 "Romantico" simultaneously exhibits themes of great brilliance for the soloist, lyricism, introspection, virtuosity and beauty. Osorio also performs four of Ponce’s short solo piano pieces including one of his most popular works, Gavota, which captures the romantic nostalgia of Mexican society before the Revolution.
REVIEW:
The recording is fine, and the piano is well balanced against the orchestra, who play with unanimity and commitment. Pianist Jorge Federico Osorio gives a performance of sustained virtuosity that certainly makes the case for both concertos.
-- MusicWeb International
Coleridge-Taylor: Legend, Violin Concerto; Harrison / McAslan
Thirty-five years ago all I knew about Samuel Coleridge-Taylor was that he wrote Hiawatha. My father told me he had heard it in Manchester during the nineteen thirties; in fact my grandfather may have been conducting it. I knew a few piano pieces and the ubiquitous Demande et Réponse from the Petite Suite de Concert. That was it. A few years later I was browsing some old music magazines and was amazed to read that Coleridge-Taylor had written a Symphony: I was convinced that I would never get the chance of hearing it. It was some time during the mid ’nineties that I was chatting to the manager of a well known provincial record shop. We were enthusing about rare English music: he rather confidentially told me that a recording - this one - had just been made of Coleridge-Taylor’s Violin Concerto. However he could not tell me when it was about to hit the streets …
I guess that I forgot all about it until one day I heard the ‘Andante semplice’ on Classic FM. This was from the Philippe Graffin version with the Johannesburg Philharmonic Orchestra. Unfortunately I had not heard the presenter’s introduction and had eight or nine minutes of guessing what the work was – but I was impressed. When announcer announced I was amazed that such a gorgeous piece had lain dormant for so long – and immediately went out and bought the CD (Avie AV0044 - see review)! Two subsequent recordings later I have not changed my view. In fact having heard all three versions of this Concerto I am convinced that this is an essential addition to the repertoire – both for the violin and for English Music.
To be fair there is no way that it can be compared to Elgar’s masterwork: and I do have to admit that I personally prefer the Somervell Concerto that is coupled on the Hyperion release (CDA67420- see review). However, Coleridge-Taylor’s Concerto is a work that is full of sunshine and light and colour: it is a descriptive work, not a confessional one. It must rate as one of the composer’s masterpieces.
The work is written in three contrasting, yet well balanced and consistent movements. The opening ‘allegro’ is a modified sonata form and commands our attention and our interest from the first bar to the last. Perhaps Dvorak and Mendelssohn are never too far away but Coleridge-Taylor has made this music his own. This is not a pastiche: it is an impressive exploration of the violinist’s technique and expression using a musical language that was appropriate to the period.
The slow movement is lovely – and although I loathe excerpting movements from symphonies and concertos I can see that this one will be heard ‘stand alone’ for some time to come. The programme notes point out that it is in the nature of a ‘love poem’ – which nods back to Hiawatha.
The last movement is perhaps the best – although I can hear some people saying that it is derivative. There is a good balance between the various episodes of the ‘rondo’ – including some wistful or reflective moments. However, the work concludes with an “impressive peroration [and] a triumphant conclusion.”
It would be wrong to regard the Legend and the Romance as makeweights – they are not. Both pieces are delightful miniatures that are definitely ‘children of their time’, but have a sufficient air of timelessness about them to make them worthy of the occasional airing in the concert hall and on CD.
The Romance shares the same melody as the posthumous Sonata for Violin and piano in D minor – and I imagine that musicologists will have their views on precedence – although the present work would appear to be a reworking of the Sonata which is likely to be a ‘student’ work.
Both the Romance and the Legend are easy on the mind and the ear and are well written and totally memorable.
I am delighted that Bredon Hill - a rhapsody for violin and orchestra has been given another outing on this CD: recently Dutton issued a fine performance of this work on CDLX 7174. I have written extensively about this work elsewhere on MusicWeb so I will make just a few comments here.
This is quite definitely - and deliberately - a ‘retro’ work – harking back to an earlier English Pastoral tradition exemplified by Vaughan Williams’s The Lark Ascending and George Butterworth’s Shropshire Lad Rhapsody. However, the reason why Julius Harrison chose to evoke a musical landscape from the past is complex. It had much to do with the wartime mood of nostalgia – seeking to preserve an icon of an England that probably never existed – except in the mind of poets, musicians and filmmakers – but was important to the concept of a country that was worth fighting for. It was widely broadcast to service people across the world with considerable success.
It is a work that demands our attention and certainly will appeal to all listeners who enjoy ‘landscape in music’. A beautiful meditation that explores considerable depths of feeling, it is introspective but at the same time inspiring. Bredon Hill must count as one of the finest musical portrayals of the English countryside. It is unbelievable that it remained unheard for so many years.
Perhaps the last word ought to go to Gordon Bottomley. Commenting on this piece, he wrote that “the dew was so fresh and undimmed by footsteps. Some of the harmonies came from further off than Bredon: perhaps there had been footsteps on them that did not show on the dew.”
It is a rare treasure and deserves due respect.
The question is begged as to what version of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s Violin Concerto to buy. The short answer is that it depends! I feel that all three recordings are impressive and provide first class performances of this work. However I do have a sneaking preference for this present interpretation that is hard to put into words. Perhaps I feel that Lorraine McAslan manages to get to the core of the piece and to sympathise with the Edwardian musical language?
So deciding on the disc to buy devolves to other considerations. Firstly, couplings. The Avie disc has the Dvorak Concerto as its stable mate. The Hyperion introduces the listener to the fine Violin Concerto by Arthur Somervell. The present disc includes the two minor works (unheard by most listeners for nearly a century) by Coleridge-Taylor and what is probably Julius Harrison’s orchestral masterpiece. It is horses for courses – but my personal choice would be to own all three! However if I was pushed, well the Somervell is too important a work for me to ignore.
-- John France, MusicWeb International