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SaleBach & MacMillan: Motets & Sacred Songs / Short, Tenebrae
Signum Classics · Oct 2023CD$19.99$9.99 -
Giacchino, Göransson & Williams: Star Wars Stories - Music from The Mandalorian, Rogue One & Solo
Sony Masterworks · May 2022CD$11.98 -
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Dvorak: Symphony No 7, Otello Overture, Wood Dove / Flor, Malaysian Philharmonic
BIS · Mar 2012SACD$21.99 -
American Classics - Copland: The Tender Land Suite, Piano Concerto, Etc / Pasternack, Hanson
Naxos · May 2008CD$19.99 -
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SaleMusic for Organ & Orchestra / Mazzoletti, Carmona, Helvetica Orchestra
Brilliant Classics · Jul 2023CD$16.99$8.49 -
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Leshnoff: Violin Concerto no. 1, String Quartet no. 1 / Wetherbee, Carpe Diem Quartet
Naxos · Feb 2009CD$19.99 -
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Brahms: Symphonies No 1-4 / Zinman, Tonhalle Orchestra Zurich
Are there a few quibbles? Naturally. The introduction to the First symphony's finale lacks mystery, while the coda of the Second symphony's finale would have benefited from slightly more prominent brass and a surge of additional energy from the podium. On the other hand, the finale of the Third never has sounded better, the coda tremendously fulfilling, while the Fourth's passacaglia is really imposing, but also energetic. Here the trombones truly make their presence felt. In short, this set stands with the best, and I suspect its stature will only grow over time.
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
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Brahms had a special connection with Zurich. He attended the opening of the Tonhalle, the city’s famous concert hall, in 1895 and was the only living composer to be featured on the ceiling painting; it’s reproduced in the booklet for this set, part of the altogether splendid packaging. The latter-day descendants of the orchestra for that opening concert have here given us a cycle of symphonies with which I am sure the composer would have been very pleased.
The first thing that strikes you is the beauty and colour of the playing. Both times I’ve heard them live, it’s the Tonhalle strings that have impressed me most, rich and rounded, oozing with character. This makes them ideal for Brahms. The mellow beauty of the Second’s first movement suits them perfectly, but they also develop a distinctive sheen, even a slight hard edge, for the more high energy moments, such as the opening movement of the First or the invigorating downward sweep that opens the Third. There is also some sensational wind playing and some first rate solos, such as the oboe in the First and the clarinet in the slow movements of the Third and Fourth. The playing alone would be worth the asking price, but it’s Zinman’s dynamic conducting that holds the set together. His reading of each symphony carries a clear sense of a transformational journey which, for me, went beyond the ordinary. The transition from darkness to light in the First is obvious, but Zinman breaks it down still further so that there is ebb and flow in each movement: in the first movement’s Allegro, for example, there is an almost tangible feeling of the drama and tension of the first subject being tamed by the gentler lyricism of the second. The Second carries a steady trajectory towards the celebration of the finale, but Zinman takes this movement just a touch slower than many so that the ebullience is contained within a certain set of rules. The Third also seems to go on a steady path from the exhilaration of the opening to an increasing sense of melancholy which is almost - but not quite - solved by the finale. Only in the first two movements of the Fourth was that sense of direction a little lacking. The tension and energy ups dramatically with the Scherzo and the final Passacaglia becomes so intense as to be almost unbearable.
It helps that these live recordings were all taped within two days, so we have here an unusually coherent reading of Brahms’ symphonic oeuvre. Sections of the press have damned this set with faint praise, calling it a safe middle-of-the-road Brahms cycle, but for me it’s much more than that: it’s an intelligent, well argued reading of this great cycle which stands comparison with any Brahms set that has come my way in recent years. Zinman is very much in the traditional mould of Brahms interpreters, eschewing the approaches of Harnoncourt or Gardiner, but he argues convincingly that there is still a place for this in our 21st century and he certainly carried me along with him. The sound, by the way, is excellent, rich and bloomy with plenty of clarity for the inner voices.
Incidentally, for those who are interested in such things, Zinman observes all the exposition repeats. Live as these recordings are, the audience is exceptionally well behaved and there is not a hint of a cough throughout. Applause, and there must have been much, is also absent. My only quibble is that the CDs give us barely any time to digest one movement before the next begins, surely an unnecessary compression of space when there is so much spare time on each disc.
-- Simon Thompson, MusicWeb International
Mozart: Complete Wind Concertos On Period Instruments
This is a period instrument orchestra, so the sound is accordingly fairly gentle, though by no means hair-shirt. The upper strings are perhaps a little thinner than with a conventional modern orchestra, but with what sounds like gut strings and a minimal use of vibrato this is to be expected. In fact the sound is nicely rounded, almost sumptuous at times, and by no means cold. All of the orchestral instruments are listed at the back of the booklet, with makers’ names both modern and ancient, the modern instruments being replicas of early examples.
Eric Hoeprich is the only soloist not listed as an orchestral member, and indeed, I see him often enough wandering around the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague in his capacity as teacher, so this is no surprise. Far from saving the best until last, CD 1 of this set has some of the finest performances here, and the warm tones of Hoeprich’s basset horn or basset clarinet make for a lovely opening. The Clarinet Concerto in A major, K622 is one of Mozart’s late masterpieces – indeed his last major work, and is given a supremely sensitive if un-extrovert performance on this recording. The choice for using a basset horn is based on the instrument owned by the work’s dedicatee, Anton Stadler. This instrument has a lower range than a conventional clarinet, and the version here uses fairly recently discovered historical references to create as accurate as possible a reproduction of Stadler’s solo, right down to the creation of a new instrument replicating that shown in an engraving from a concert programme from 1794. The extra low sonorities do indeed make for an extra layer of sonority and richness which can be quite unexpected. Either way, it is a recording to cherish as well as one to put alongside old favourites for comparison.
From last to first, the Bassoon Concerto in B flat major K191 was Mozart’s first wind concerto, and despite inhabiting the gallant style of composers senior to Mozart the work is ambitious and technically demanding to soloists even today. Denis Godburn’s instrument has a soft and rounded tone whose warmth is both attractive and distinctive, and the recording is mercifully free of key rattle. Oboe soloist Marc Schachman wrote the booklet notes for this first disc, and he goes into some detail on the origins of the Oboe Concerto in C major K314, which we also hear on disc 2 in a version for flute. Historical mystery and obscurity aside, this is yet another excellent performance, with perhaps only an over-long cadenza to momentarily knock the some of the pace and energy from the first movement. The period oboe has a slightly broader, less sinewy resonance than the modern instrument, and this milder tone again makes for an attractive listen.
CD 2 is given over entirely to the flute concertos, of which the Flute Concerto in G major, K313 is arguably the finest. Sandra Miller plays a traverso flute from the period, which has a tone more akin to a recorder than the modern power-flutes we hear in orchestras these days. Unlike a recorder however, the horizontal blowing hole allows for greater flexibility of dynamics, colour and tuning, and Miller’s nicely centred tone rings out over the orchestra with fine projection and excellent intonation, making one wonder why Mozart had such an apparent loathing for the things. The Adagio non troppo central movement is a particular treat, the solo line topping the string texture while also being enveloped in it in a friendly meeting of musical lines and textures. As previously mentioned, the Flute Concerto in D major K314 is a fairly straight transposition of the Oboe Concerto in C major, if anything being given even more lightness and bounce in the flute version of the opening Allegro aperto. Indeed, the flute version shaves nearly two minutes from the oboe version, though this is partly down to cadenzas, all written or improvised by the soloists on these recordings. The Concerto for Flute and Harp K299 is justly popular, though I am sure this has as much to do with the wonderful sonorities created by this combination of instruments as with the actual musical material. Once again the soloists are beautifully balanced in the recording, and well matched even though there are no surviving usable pedal harps from Mozart’s time. The instrument used here must come close to what he would have expected to hear, with a marvellous transparency and gentle articulation and resonance played with fine musicality by Victoria Drake.
CD 3 covers pretty much all of Mozart’s surviving work for horn and orchestra. As far as absolute completeness goes we only appear to be missing the fragment left of a Horn Concerto K494a, and for that matter the Andante for flute and orchestra K315, but this is of little importance. What we do have are some useful notes by Robert D. Levin, which explains which works were written for whom, and how the score of K370b came to be re-united with itself after having been cut into pieces by Mozart’s son Carl. These performances on a natural horn do not bear comparison with the famous recordings made by the more beefy tones of legendary valve instrument players such as Dennis Brain or Alan Civil. The best period recordings I know are those of Anthony Halstead with Christopher Hogwood on Decca, which are admittedly more lively and characterful than these. R.J. Kelly’s tone is nicely rounded, and as to be expected from a well behaved classical natural horn, fairly restrained. The recording seems to emphasise the ‘damped’ nature of the instrument however, and there isn’t a great deal of contrast in the tone from one phrase or movement to the next. The famous quartet of concertos is K412, K417, K447 and K495, in addition to which we are given a version of a Horn Concerto in E flat major K370b/371 completed by Robert D. Levin in 1993. This was in the process of re-arrangement after Mozart had discovered that his soloist, Joseph Leutgeb, was unable to play the lowest notes at the grand age of 59 due to his loss of teeth. Levin has sorted out the confusion brought about by work done on the piece by Franz Xaver Süssmayr after Mozart’s death, and in any case restored the Mozart’s original intentions, “today’s hornist [not being] bound by Leutgeb’s lack of teeth.” The final track on the CD is the original conception of the Rondo K412, with the addition of faux-operatic vocalisations by Eric Dillner, expounding Mozart’s ‘sardonic dialogue’ as directed at Leutgeb, annotated throughout the score. This bit of fun is of little more than novelty value, and thank goodness the text is given with translation in the booklet. That Mozart, he was a naughty boy...
With technical assuredness and musical sensitivity from a fine set of period music specialist soloists this has to be pretty much the top of the heap when it comes to an authentic/historically informed collection of Mozart’s complete wind concertos. I’ve done a trawl for significant competition, but none of the ‘complete’ sets available seem to be on original instruments. Individual CDs can be found which do provide more impact from the music, and for those willing to spend a little more and do some searching around the Decca/L’Oiseau Lyre Academy of Ancient Music directed by Christopher Hogwood do ultimately provide more satisfaction and depth of quality in general, though these American competitors do come very close indeed. There are one or two moments of very minor orchestral scrappiness in some of the accompaniments with the American Chamber Orchestra, but nothing which will offend even professionally tuned ears too much. The horn concertos are perhaps the least inspiring of the set and more serviceable than magical, but with plenty of scholarly work invested in the preparation of all of these performances there is always plenty of fascination in hearing what must be close to what Mozart’s audiences should have heard at the time.
-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International
Bach & MacMillan: Motets & Sacred Songs / Short, Tenebrae
Tenebrae bring their trademark passion and precision to this live performance of music by J. S. Bach and Sir James MacMillan, to be recorded live at Snape Maltings in May 2023. Renowned for their technical difficulty,
Bach’s motets are pillars of the choral repertoire, requiring minute attention to detail as well as a full emotional range. Here, Tenebrae performs the three most well-known of the set, culminating in the joyful Singet dem Herrn. Like Bach, Sir James MacMillan has written much of his music for the church, and his settings of the Tenebrae responsories paint a vivid picture of the events of Holy Week. This album also features the premiere recording of I saw Eternity the other night, which MacMillan composed for Tenebrae in 2021 to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the London Bach Society.
Speaking on Bach and MacMillan, Nigel Short says“I am sure James will be as revered in 400 years’ time as Bach is today. On so many different levels, the contrast between the music of these two great composers could not be more dramatic. What both composers have in abundance, though, is an utter devotion to their religious faiths. This total conviction displays itself in their music, leaving the listener in no doubt as to their commitment to creating music imbued with every ounce of passion and precision. I hope listeners will enjoy and feel the sense of excitement and energy we as performers always feed off in concert, and that this performance in the beautiful venue of Snape Maltings will stand the test of time and be heard by music-lovers for centuries to come.”
Bach: The Goldberg Variations for Guitar / Kurt Rodarmer
Turning to what Sony bills as a world premiere transcription of the Goldberg Variations for guitar, I was incredulous. Maybe the Goldbergs could be cogently presented, I thought, on the lute, which is an instrument well suited to polyphonic writing, but how could its complex textures be clearly rendered on the essentially harmony-oriented guitar?
Fortunately, it turns out that Kurt Rodarmer (about whom Sony vouchsafes no biographical information) agrees with me. Combining the roles of arranger, performer, and producer, he has made his version for multiple guitars, anything from two to four of them, "recording each part separately and later mixing them down." Naturally there is a certain loss where the virtuoso conquest of technical demands is concerned, but this, as many may feel and as Glenn Gould used to argue passionately, is by no means necessarily a bad thing.
In any case, Rodarmer's dazzling finger skills still make a tremendous impression, especially by virtue of the combination of speed, steadiness, and clarity with which he dispatches such variations as No. 23, with its rapid parallel thirds and whirlwind cadential scales. In variations like Nos. 6, 21, and 24 Bach's canonic writing emerges with unusual lucidity. Nor are such technical achievements all Rodarmer has to offer. He makes a beautiful sound, at once lustrous and warm, that is vividly captured by the very clear sound. He realizes textures like those of the two-manual Variation 20 with a sure feeling for their drama. And he has an impressive sense of style, which is given expression by some elegant long grace notes in the Aria itself and in the 9/8 meter of Variation 24, and also by some well-conceived changes of articulation in the repeats.
These latter, by the way, are omitted in the Aria but included in the variations, with only a few exceptions. The decision to omit the first of the two repeats in Variation 16 but to include the second one seems perverse, since this variation is designed in the form of a French overture, with stately introduction and dancelike fast section, and that is a genre where the tradition of repeating the introduction was surely invariable in Bach's time.
Aside from one or two such minutiae, and from a slightly mechanical feeling in the treatment of the minor-mode Variation 25 (where, perhaps symptomatically, both repeats are ignored), I found both the conception of Rodarmer's arrangement—a refreshing blend of artistic respect with absence of pomposity—highly persuasive. Like Bach on the accordion, I wouldn't want to hear Goldberg on the guitar every time. But I am glad to have both in my collection to indulge in as an occasional and artistically worthwhile treat.
-- Bernard Jacobson, FANFARE [5/1998]
Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition / Shelest
MUSSORGSKY Pictures at an Exhibition. GLINKA The Lark. TCHAIKOVSKY Romances: in f; in F. Waltzes: in A?; in f?. Nocturne in F • Anna Shelest (pn) • SHELEST 47553 (66:32)
The spate of new recordings of Pictures at an Exhibition continues unabated, there having been eight new recordings of the piano original added to my archive since I wrote my first Fanfare review of Michael Seewann’s traversal of the work in November of 2010. That averages out to two new piano versions per month. It would seem fair to state that Pictures has achieved “rite of passage” status among up-and-coming pianists, as well as among down-and-going pianists, and even middle-and-stagnating pianists.
Ukrainian-born Anna Shelest is definitely in the “up-and-coming” group. She was the youngest-ever prizewinner of the Milosz Magin International Piano Competition at the tender age of 11. Since then, she has studied with Jerome Lowenthal, won a lot of contests (Bradshaw-Buono, Louisiana International, Kawai American, Corpus Christi International, etc.), soloed with a lot of orchestras, and received a lot of critical acclaim (a “female reincarnation of Liszt,” a “piano lioness,” etc.), to which I shall add some of my own, although it will be a slightly qualified rave.
Shelest’s approach to Pictures is bold and extroverted. At one time I might have dared to say “masculine,” but I suppose in this day and age, I couldn’t get by with such a characterization. Because of the nature of this work, such an approach is appropriate most of the time. Her rendition of “Byd?o,” to cite one example, really induces the listener to hear oxen lumbering and straining under their burdens. Similarly, in “Great Gate,” her extroverted playing reinforces the grandeur of the movement as the apotheosis of the entire suite. I also very much like her rhythmic license in “Goldenberg” and forceful dispatch of the final eighth notes in measures 22 and 23, serving to show Goldenberg’s utter disdain for his poor cousin Schmuÿle. “Gnomus” is filled with wonderful dynamic contrasts, just the way it should be. The more delicate sections, such as the second promenade or “Il vecchio castello,” are subtly nuanced in a most effective way. Her slight hesitations here and there in the theme of “Tuilleries” suggest the impetuousness of youth. These and dozens of other touches combine to make this a superior reading of the work.
Nevertheless, Shelest falters in a few places: Her “Ballet of Unhatched Chicks,” with her bold approach, sounds more like a ballet of fully-grown chickens. It’s deftly played, but just too heavy-handed. Parts of “Gnomus,” particularly the trilled section beginning in measure 72, don’t sound menacing enough to me. Shelest uses a measured tremolo in “Cum mortuis” rather than the unmeasured one employed by a majority of pianists. The 32nd-note markings of the passage can legitimately be interpreted either way, but a fast, unmeasured tremolo produces more mystery in the piece. In “Limoges,” she omits the sforzandi in measures 2 and 4, and other similar places, a failing since these markings emphasize the animated and breathless nature of the gossip that is being portrayed in this picture.
Perhaps the thing that caught me most by surprise in Shelest’s rendition comes in measure 21 of “Catacombs.” In some editions, there is no tie in the low A between that and the preceding measure (it is in the autograph), but Shelest not only foregoes the tie, but changes the bass pitch to G, which is a reading not in any of the 10 different editions I own. This doesn’t sound bad, but mind you, it is what a composer possessed with less genius than Mussorgsky would have done, as the G then matches the chord above it. By sustaining the A through that measure and two beats of the following one, Mussorgsky maintains suspense that is finally relieved in very dramatic fashion on beat 3 of measure 22.
These and a few other things are all relatively minor shortcomings, to be sure, but cumulatively prevent me from ranking this version in the very top echelon of recordings of Pictures. Still, it is certainly worth hearing by Pictures enthusiasts.
I admit that I’m considerably easier to please on any piano piece outside of Pictures at an Exhibition, and Shelest pleases me very much in the other Russian pieces on this disc. The bold and assertive treatment she brings to Mussorgsky is not heard in these other pieces, where it would be much less appropriate. The very Lisztian Lark by Glinka, arranged by Balakirev, is a good case in point. Its delicate opening calls for tender restraint, which is exactly what Shelest provides. Later, in its cadenza-like flourishes, she ramps up the drama, but only according to the demands of the music. Likewise, her delineation of the style of the lyric opening of Tchaikovsky’s Romance in F Minor against the trepak-like middle section sounds exactly right, as does her minimal pedaling in his Waltz in A?. Shelest is in her element in the rhapsodic Romance in F Major, bringing improvisatory-like freedom to her conception of the piece. In the very unwaltz-like Waltz in F?-Minor, with its lyrical question and staccato answer, the listener is brought into the dialogue that is going on in the piece. Tchaikovsky’s Nocturne in F Major is constructed upon gentle repeated chords, to which Shelest brings just the right amount of separation, again exercising caution in her pedaling.
This is, then, a most satisfying recital, with decent recorded piano sound. There are no notes provided about the music, but only about the performer, an indication (among others) that the CD is self-published to promote the artist. I have no issue, however, with a young woman possessing talent—and lots of it—making her talent known and accessible to others. I’m not sure where else it may be found, but this CD is easily available through Shelest’s website, annashelest.com.
FANFARE: David DeBoor Canfield
Giacchino, Göransson & Williams: Star Wars Stories - Music from The Mandalorian, Rogue One & Solo
A collection of the most famous melodies and fan favorite tracks from the recent Star Wars universe including The Mandalorian, Solo and Rogue One. The compilation features main themes, epic orchestral tracks and emotional songs, paying tribute to the originals by John Williams, Michael Giacchino and Ludwig Göransson.
Michael Giacchino writes of his score for Rogue One: “I had four and a half weeks to write this score, and since it happened so quickly, I think adrenaline just took over. I was only hoping that I could come up with something that I would be happy with when I saw it in the theater. If at that moment, my focus has been on the fact that this was Star Wars, I am not sure I would have been able to get done what I had to do in the time frame I was given. It wasn’t until I was on the scoring stage at Fox that it hit me. I decided to have the orchestra play John Williams’ main title as a warm up, to set the mood, and to test the mics. It was at that moment I thought, “This is insane that I am getting to do this!”. After all, I saw Star Wars when I was nine, and that score and that film is what inspired me and set me on the path that I am on today.”
Includes:
Music from Rogue One: A Star Wars Story
Main Theme (From “Star Wars: Rogue One”)
Imperial Suite (From “Star Wars: Rogue One”)
Jedha City Ambush(From “Star Wars: Rogue One”)
Jyn Erso and Hope (From “Star Wars: Rogue One”)
Hope and End Credits (From “Star Wars: Rogue One”)
Music from Solo: A Star Wars Story
Meet Han (From “Solo: A Star Wars Story”)
Flying with Chewie (From “Solo: A Star Wars Story”)
Reminiscence Therapy (From “Solo: A Star Wars Story”)
The Adventures of Han (From “Solo: A Star Wars Story”)
Music from Star Wars: The Mandalorian
Main Theme (From “Star Wars: The Mandalorian”)
Grogu Theme (From “Star Wars: The Mandalorian”)
Luke Skywalker Hallway Theme (From “Star Wars: The Mandalorian”)
Boba Fett Theme (From “Star Wars: The Mandalorian”)
End Theme (From “Star Wars: The Mandalorian”)
Shakespeare: Timon Of Athens / Royal Shakespeare Company
A parable for our times. -- Daily Telegraph
A searing central performance. -- The Guardian
In a world driven by greed, what do we truly value? Timon has it all – money, influence, friends. Surely it can’t last? When the money runs out, Timon soon finds her influence and friends have also gone. Left alone, she flees Athens to take refuge in the woods, cursing the city she once loved. Simon Godwin directs Kathryn Hunter as Timon in this dark satire, which forces us to question: where does happiness really lie?
Dvorak: Symphony No 7, Otello Overture, Wood Dove / Flor, Malaysian Philharmonic
Claus Peter Flor is obviously having none of it. Not only has he chosen three of Dvorák’s most impassioned works, he plays them so as to make damn sure that we feel the same way about them that he does. First the really good news: both Othello and The Wood Dove are stunning. Indeed, this is hands down the most exciting performance of the former yet committed to disc, bar none. Hearing this performance, you will be stunned that this thrilling, dramatic work remains one of the most neglected of all Dvorák’s late masterpieces. The Wood Dove is every bit as brilliant: gaunt and grim in the funeral march that brackets the lilting wedding scene, and crushing in the subsequent suicide music. One curiosity: Flor prefers the kazoo-like sound of muted trumpets to Dvorák’s requested instruments offstage just before the party sequence—an odd choice.
The performance of the Seventh Symphony will be more controversial. It has magnificent moments—indeed whole movements. The Andante receives as lovingly shaped a reading as any on disc, but there are moments when Flor’s eagerness to underline the music’s darkness leads him dangerously close to mannerism. I’m thinking of the first movement’s opening (and coda), treated more as a slow introduction than as the plunge into the main tempo that Dvorák wrote. As a postlude, the tempo makes more sense. The scherzo, too, is swift and urgent, but somehow just slightly lacking in rhythmic bite, while the finale, played for all that it’s worth, does not benefit from Flor’s decision near the start to hold back the tempo at the ends of phrases to underscore just how grim the music is supposed to be.
Once the movement gets going, though, Flor builds in excitement right through to an incredibly powerful coda. He adds horns to the final chorale, as so many performances do, but Neumann’s trumpets avoid that slightly vulgar portamento that always seems to accompany the horn option, and their brighter tone is arguably more apt. And why, finally, does Flor have the timpani drop out on the final chord? That’s just weird. Is he afraid that a more emphatic ending might persuade us that the work isn’t as despairing as he believes it to be?
It may be that the engineering exacerbates some of these impressions. Don’t get me wrong: the basic sound is very good in and of itself, but in this music, especially, we need to hear more from the woodwinds, and a sharper rhythmic bite from the brass and timpani. These are subtle points, but listeners familiar with this music will notice immediately the difference between these and other, more brightly engineered versions. And make no mistake: a brighter mean sonority can be captured without compromising the music’s expressive intensity, its “dark” energy.
So to summarize: the commitment and vision on evidence here are extremely impressive. Even the symphony, for all my various reservations, receives a performance like no other, magnificent in parts, impressive overall, and one that collectors will surely want to hear. Flor has the orchestra playing extremely well, and unlike so many time-beaters taking up podium space these days he has both good ideas and the talent to execute them. He takes risks. Whether or not they all pay off will be a matter of opinion, but there’s no question that when they do the result is the most gripping Dvorák to come along in many years.
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
American Classics - Copland: The Tender Land Suite, Piano Concerto, Etc / Pasternack, Hanson
Thankfully this isn’t the umpteenth recording of Appalachian Spring but a collection of lesser-known Copland. As always this music is quintessentially American, the suite from his opera The Tender Land, the bluesy piano concerto and the Old American Songs, the latter in choral arrangements. Appropriately enough the orchestra is the Illinois-based Elgin Symphony, which has embarked on an ambitious project called In Search of Our American Voice. Helping them in this endeavour are the St. Charles Singers, a multi-talented chamber choir founded in 1984.
Speaking of voices, Copland has a unique, instantly recognisable ‘voice’ of his own and that is clear from the first bars of The Tender Land suite. In his illuminating liner-notes Joseph Horowitz reminds us that although this has a Depression-era rural setting one could argue that, in part at least, it’s also Copland’s response to the McCarthyist witch hunt of the 1950s.
Interestingly the suite, arranged after the opera’s premiere in 1954, starts with the introduction to Act 3 and the love duet between the farm girl Laurie Moss and her drifter beau, Martin. The second movement is based on the party in Act II and the final movement comes from the quintet,’ ‘The Promise of Living’, at the end of Act I.
Whatever Copland’s intentions the music is not far removed from the Pennsylvanian hills of Appalachia, with its open, unpretentious scoring. The usual epithets ‘folksy’ and ‘homespun’ apply but there is also a degree of disquiet reflected in the brass at the start of this movement. The ensuing harp melodies are most affecting in their simplicity and directness, Robert Hanson securing warm, idiomatic playing from his orchestra.
The recording is clear and detailed, notably in the vigorous party music, and there’s no sign of strain or grain in the climaxes. Indeed, it’s an almost perfect acoustic for such a lucid score, the surging music of the last movement lovingly shaped and projected. This is vintage Copland and hearing this music may spur you to try the opera itself.
Horowitz makes the point that Copland’s piano concerto was somewhat eclipsed by Gershwin’s much better known effort, written the year before. It doesn’t have the latter’s Broadway-inspired razzamatazz but what it does have is a more sophisticated, cosmopolitan feel to it. The insouciant, bluesy first movement – introduced with the usual fanfare – has the pianist doodling quietly at the keyboard. Benjamin Pasternack captures the languor of this movement very well indeed, the piano ideally placed and faithfully recorded. Copland’s detailed scoring is wonderfully realised too, the more expansive moments thrillingly intense but never overheated.
The doodler is back in the second movement, his random notes followed by raucous music that has a real swing to it. The drums and percussion are certainly reminiscent of Gershwin but there is a fresh, individual quality to this concerto. Pasternack is suitably foot-stompin’ in those repeated jazzy phrases and the Elgin players give him wonderful support throughout. But it’s the final minute or so that’s the real tour de force, with the splendid percussion chasing the pianist all the way to the finish line.
This is exhilarating stuff and quite possibly the most enjoyable item on the disc – go on, give it another whirl – so the choral arrangements of the Old American Songs needs to be pretty special to top that. Most listeners probably know these pieces in their original scoring for voice and piano; if that’s the version you want do try Willard White on Chandos CHAN 8960.
Alas, first impressions of the choral arrangements aren’t very encouraging, baritone Nathaniel Stampley’s rather wide vibrato spoiling ‘The Boatmen’s Dance’. The St. Charles singers are another matter entirely; they are clear and nimble and, to be fair, Stampley does improve in ‘The Dodger’. Those who have heard Willard White in this repertoire will know just how much character and personality he brings to bear in these songs. Well worth seeking out.
The Elgin Symphony is never less than excellent and the chorus sing eloquently in the ballad ‘Long Time Ago’. Diction could be clearer but with such heartfelt singing it seems churlish to complain. And then there’s ‘Simple Gifts’, the Shaker hymn we know from Appalachian Spring, essayed here with a wonderful sense of innocence and optimism. They even manage the farmyard onomatopoeia of ’I Bought Me a Cat’ which, if you don’t mind this kind of silliness, will probably put a smile on your face.
Really it’s the chorus that makes these arrangements stand out; their bright, focused sound is invariably pleasing, even if the music doesn’t always sound like Copland. They are also suitably impassioned – febrile, even – in the Revivalist hymn ‘Zion’s Walls’. Then Stampley and tenor Jeffrey Hunt join them for a spirited rendition of ’The Golden Willow Tree’. Both soloists acquit themselves well here and for once the quirky orchestration actually sounds like authentic Copland.
Of the two remaining songs the hymn tune ‘At The River’ could have been penned by Charles Ives, such is its mix of devotional text and strange harmonies. Hanson and his band bring this music to a stirring close before launching into the utterly delightful ‘Ching-a-ring Chaw’. If you haven’t smiled so far then this will surely do the trick, the singing and playing pin-sharp and full of fun. An upbeat finale to an enchanting disc.
Minor caveats about the baritone aside this is another collection of American classics that deserves the highest praise. With exemplary playing, singing and an acoustic to match this is plainly indispensable. And the song texts are included as well, which is a welcome bonus. Buy it and enjoy.
-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International
Music for Organ & Orchestra / Mazzoletti, Carmona, Helvetica Orchestra
When we think of a concerto for solo instrument and orchestra, the organ is certainly not the first instrument that comes to mind. And yet, the symphonic organ is perfectly adapted to the role of soloist, being capable of duelling as well as duetting with the orchestra. The Concerto for organ, strings, horns and timpani Op. 100 by Marco Enrico Bossi, for example, is one of the most important and successful pieces in the entire repertoire, and yet it does not enjoy the recognition it deserves among the wider public. Structured in three movements of genuine expressive power, this is music that is both majestic and intimate, able to touch the hearts of listeners and performers alike – a work on which this great composer really lavished his extraordinary creativity.
Hymne by Joseph Jongen is a real rarity. The organ has less of a ‘solo’ role than in the Bossi and Poulenc works; rather, it blends into the warm textures of the orchestra as an integral part of the sonic conversational flow so typical of Jongen’s impressionist idiom. Here too, the composition of the Gland organ and its eminently full, warm and poetic sound are an ideal showcase for the mysterious atmosphere of this work.
Unlike the Bossi and Jongen works, the Concerto for organ, strings and timpani by Francis Poulenc is very well known indeed. Uncharacteristically written in a single movement divided into seven sections, this concerto is surely one of the best-known organ works of the 20th century. In certain sections the sonorous, weighty and deliberately strident organ writing is juxtaposed alongside orchestral textures that are extremely graceful and poetic, almost like a rough country giant trying to attract the attentions of a refined princess. At other moments, the organ imposes itself upon the orchestra, only to come together with it at other times, before proceeding to turn everything upside down once again.
CORRIDORS OF BLOOD
Rossini: La Gazza Ladra / Gelmetti, Ricciarelli, Matteuzzi
According to an irate correspondent (February, page 1432) my "hatred of live recordings with all their inevitable characteristics" had "poisoned" my review of Philips's La Scala recording of the Italian version of Rossini's Guglielmo Tell. Given such an assumption, what chance has this new recording of La gazza ladra—"The thieving magpie"—recorded live during performances at last year's Rossini Festival in Pesaro? In the event, every chance. In the first place, the opera is being sung in the right language. Secondly, it would seem that the Teatro Rossini in Pesaro—rebuilt in 1816-18 and reopened, as it happens, with a production of La gazza ladra supervised by Rossini himself—is an excellent place in which to record. Like Glyndebourne, it is perhaps rather dry acoustically, but is a beautifully scaled theatre with a stage that is easier to cover than La Scala's. The theatre is, in fact, a kind of miniature La Scala, as handsome to look at as its big brother in Milan (where La gazza ladra had its prima in 1817) but with the intimacy of Glyndebourne or, say, the glorious Theatre Royal in Bristol. It would also seem that Michael Hampe's production was a relatively straightforward affair. There is a certain amount of coming and going in the secco recitatives (not by Rossini and musically unremarkable) but in the big scenes the principals are logically placed and unfussily directed, making for a recording that is cleanly miked, pleasantly immediate, and well arranged right across the stereophonic spectrum.
If there is an element of disappointment about this live theatre performance, it is some occasional lack of theatre atmosphere. The audience, whose responses are briefly registered and then faded out at the end of all the key movements, were clearly much taken with Samuel Ramey's remarkably fierce and Machiavellian portrait of the lecherous Mayor. But there is a slightly antiseptic feel about a good deal of the First Act and the start of the Second, where the prison scenes should really stir the emotions. They certainly did that at Wexford in 1959 with Marietta Adani as Ninetta and the young Janet Baker as the affectionate young peasant boy, Pippo; though in those days all the publisher Ricordi could come up with was La gazza ladra in the heavily re-ordered and reorchestrated version completed by Zandonai in 1942. In the present recording of the famous prison duet "E ben per mia memoria", Katia Ricciarelli and Bernadette Manca di Nissa are using no tear-jerking, sub-Puccinian revision, but the Urtext in Alberto Zedda's exemplary realization. So we must expect it to be a degree or so cooler.
That said, Act 2, which by Rossini's usual standards is unusually long and powerful, grows magnificently in this performance, culminating in the great Trial scene, Ninetta's march to the scaffold, and her deeply touching Andantino, "Deh tu reggi in tal momenta". Ricciarelli, the Ninetta, is a loyal and accomplished Rossinian and a regular visitor to Pesaro. Her vocal portrait of this wronged country girl may strike some as being too sophisticated. I recall an old 78rpm recording of Ninetta's cavatina sung by Lina Pagliughi that seemed to strike exactly the right note of unaffected artlessness. No need to count the spoons after this girl had left for town. Ricciarelli, by contrast, rather cossets the music and occasionally elaborates it, attempting in the process perhaps to suggest a degree of vocal ease that she does not now quite possess. As an old man, Rossini wrote variants and cadenzas for this cavatina for the soprano Giuseppina Vitali (see Appendix I/C of Ricordi's Italian-English vocal score of the Zedda edition; Milan, 1989: £24.95) but Ricciarelli appears to be using her own ornaments.
The rest of the ensemble is a good one, as is usually the case in Pesaro, surely led by an exceptionally confident Samuel Ramey playing the Mayor not as some meddling buffoon but as an extremely unpleasant rural Scarpia. William Matteuzzi, Ninetta's lover fresh from the wars, is splendidly ardent, Manca di Nissa is a rich-toned Pippo, sensitively played, and Ferruccio Furlanetto makes a strong impression as Ninetta's father, the soldier on the run from a corrupt regime and yet one more of those Rossinian father-figures trying to live out his life in politically troubled times. Still, Furlanetto doesn't get the extra aria, a newly adapted entrance aria, which Rossini provided for the singer Remorini for the 1818 Pesaro revival. Lucia, by contrast, keeps her Act 2 aria, though it was rarely performed after the Milanese prima. In this Pesaro production it has been moved forward so that it comes before the great Trial scene. This tucks it neatly away, allowing Lucia's doubts about Ninetta's guilt to register as a kind of aria del sorbetto before the onset of the chorus, quintet, and second finale.
The text, then, is close to that of the Milanese prima and is more or less complete, some understandably small and frequent cuts in the recitatives notwithstanding. The orchestral playing under Gianluigi Gelmetti is spruce and the accompaniments are generally prompt and businesslike, though Ricciarelli is occasionally indulged.
This is not the first commercial recording of La gazza ladra. Zedda's own account of the opera appeared on Fonit Cetra's Italia label some years ago (nla). But this Sony Classical version is the one to which Rossinians will inevitably turn for the foreseeable future.
-- Gramophone [10/1990]
Schmidt: Symphony No 4, Etc / Kreizberg, Netherlands Po
At long last, Franz Schmidt’s magnificent Fourth Symphony is becoming a staple of the CD catalog, if not the concert hall. The mournful, nostalgic, yearning score, an elegy for a dead daughter and a dying culture (Vienna, 1934), is one of the last great gestures of the Romantic era. It’s Strauss without the bombast, Mahler without the neuroses. This 45-minute dirge received only one recording during the mono era, and then only one pre-digital stereo treatment—one of its best versions, by Zubin Mehta and the Vienna Philharmonic. That Decca recording, from about 1971, remains one of the finest things Mehta has ever done. I don’t mean that to sound like damning with faint praise; Mehta is far from my favorite conductor, but with this score and the Vienna Philharmonic he drew on emotional resources that would elude him later in his career. For its balance of sorrow, anguish, and uneasy peace, the Mehta recording has never quite been bettered. L’udovít Rajter and the Bratislava Radio Orchestra made the symphony’s first digital recording, in 1987, as part of an Opus cycle that produced the first decent versions of Schmidt’s first two symphonies (they and the Third are much sunnier works than the Fourth). Rajter’s Fourth was honorable, but was no longer necessary when Mehta finally appeared on CD and other better-played versions came along. Those latter include Franz Welser-Möst and the London Philharmonic (EMI, 1994), followed within a couple of years by Martin Sieghart and the Bruckner Orchestra of Linz (Chesky) and Neeme Järvi and the Detroit Symphony (Chandos). Members of the London Philharmonic nicknamed Welser-Möst “Frankly Worse than Most,” which is surely an overstatement, although in this lineup he’s better only than Rajter; even so, his disc is valuable for its inclusion of Schmidt’s Variations on a Hussar’s Song, otherwise available only on a hard-to-find Preiser CD. Sieghart is surprisingly competitive, perhaps edging out Järvi to come in a close second to Mehta.
Now, just at the dawn of the SACD era, we already have a first-rate new version of Schmidt’s Fourth in superb surround sound from Yakov Kreizberg and the Netherlands Philharmonic on PentaTone. The recorded sound is a bit distant, but detailed (clear enough to reveal an occasional grunt from the podium). More important, Kreizberg’s performance breathes nicely, with a natural rubato that makes its effect over large musical paragraphs more than through individual phrases. It isn’t quite my Schmidt ideal; the big climax about six minutes into the Molto vivace, which is effectively the third movement, could be marginally more cataclysmic. (An aside: The chorale just after this point would have been a better place than three minutes from the end to begin track 4, since the chorale introduces what is essentially the symphony’s recapitulation if you regard the work as one massive sonata-allegro movement.) Also, Kreizberg could have wrung more passion out of the little climax about two-and-a-half minutes from the end, the symphony’s last cry before it dies away into the bereft trumpet solo with which it began. But these are small points, and Kreizberg joins Sieghart just marginally behind Mehta.
Perhaps tipping the judgment to Kreizberg, besides the modern five-channel sound (the CD can also be played in two-channel stereo on a regular player), is the inclusion of three orchestral bits from Schmidt’s opera Notre Dame (as in the Victor Hugo novel known in English as The Hunchback of Notre Dame). The lush, string-centered, harp-haloed Intermezzo has been recorded many times before, most notably in a voluptuous, daringly slow Karajan version on EMI, but the Introduction and “Carnival Music” are comparative rarities. I’ve encountered these three pieces together as a suite only on an Opus/Musical Heritage Society LP by Rajter and the Slovak Philharmonic, where the music was inexactly billed as “Carnival and Intermezzo.” The suite is a welcome addition to this disc, but it should have come first rather than last; Schmidt’s devastating Symphony No. 4 should be followed only by silence.
James Reel, FANFARE
Wagner: Tristan Und Isolde / Smith, Theorin
Marke: Robert Holl
Isolde: Iréne Theorin
Kurwenal: Jukka Rasilainen
Melot: Ralf Lukas
Brangäne: Michelle Breedt
Junger Seemann: Clemens Bieber
Ein Hirt: Arnold Bezuyen
Ein Steuermann: Martin Snell
Bayreuther Festspiele Chorus/Eberhard Friedrich
Bayreuther Festspiele Orchestra/Peter Schneider
Stage Director: Christoph Marthaler
rec. live, Bayreuth Festival, 9 August 2009.
Special Features: include ‘Kinder, macht was Neues!’ The making of Tristan und Isolde.
Video Tracks: 16:9
Audio Tracks: 5.1 DTS Surround, PCM Stereo
Subtitle Tracks: English, French, German, Spanish
OPUS ARTE OA 1033 D [3DVDs: 292:00]
As I reported last year this performance of Tristan und Isolde was chosen for only the second live relay from the ‘Green Hill’ following Die Meistersinger in 2008. Katharina Wagner who now controls Bayreuth alongside her half-sister Eva Wagner-Pasquier, wishes to open up the Festival to a much wider audience. So again the Bayreuth Festival joined forces with the city of Bayreuth and a leading German engineering company, Siemens, to present the Siemens Festival Night. This allowed several thousand people the opportunity of a free event at the Bayreuth Festplatz. In addition, the opera, like last year’s, was available on the Internet.
As I look back on what I wrote last August as the reviewer of this performance I was in no danger (in mid-January) of bright sun shining on my TV screen and creating the problems I had initially with the outdoor showing. I had reported on Christoph Marthaler’s 2005 anti-romantic staging of Tristan und Isolde from the theatre in 2008 and most of what I wrote both then and again last year stands without much significant alteration. The Prelude introduces us to the circles of light that are the light bulbs and the recurring imagery for the ocean liner in which the ‘action’ is set. Katharina Wagner has called Marthaler ‘a master when it comes to staging boredom, standstill and desperation’ though whether this is damning him with faint praise I cannot tell. In his metaphysical interpretation there is little eye contact — or any contact for that matter — between the characters. It must not be forgotten that Katharina had little — if anything — to do with this production as, at the time it was planned, the Festival was solidly in the hands of her father, Wolfgang, and late mother, Gudrun.
As revived here by Anna Sophie-Mahler little does happen in this Tristan und Isolde but Michael Beyer’s direction for TV puts our attention directly onto the faces of the singers and the truth they showed holds the viewer’s attention. In the opera house you are distanced from the facial expression of the singers but here we can focus on crucial small moments to mostly good effect. Iréne Theorin as Isolde is revealed to be quite a stunning actress and her best moment remains near the end of Act I when she is quite deranged at ‘Nun lass uns Sühne trinken!’ Here having drunk the ‘wrong’ potion she is beginning to feel the effect of passion and not her death; she very subtlety undoes her top button and then takes her pulse. Robert Dean Smith, as Tristan, also benefits from the close-ups particularly in his Act III ravings. As before, the other highlights include Michelle Breedt’s concerned Brangäne trying to snatch back the Todestrank from Isolde in Act I, King Marke’s pain at being deceived being etched so clearly on Robert Holl’s craggy features and the passing of the knife that fatally wounds Tristan from Marke on to Melot then Tristan and back to Melot and finally returned into Marke’s hands. Then significantly there is Tristan staring straight at Kurwenal (Jukka Rasilainen) convincing me that his coming back to life in Act III is all in his faithful retainer’s mind. Much of this might be missed if – as a member of the theatre audience – you were looking elsewhere.
The walls of the hold where Tristan is shown ‘lying in state’ look even more mildewed and graffiti-covered in the final Act here on DVD than on the night of the relay. Some moments also still look ridiculous such as Tristan and Kurwenal’s Act I hand gesturing when the latter sings about Lord Morold, though this is not now blown up on a huge 90m² screen.
The sound from my DVD player was reasonably faithful to the live transmission though arguably more vivid than before because of the work of the engineers. The voices sound mostly very even and the orchestra under Peter Schneider’s experience baton seems faultless and perfectly balanced though, as outdoors in August, it still seems a little louder than you would get in the Festspielhaus.
As an extra there is a short backstage self-congratulatory feature entitled ‘Kinder, macht was Neues!’ Sadly this urge by Richard Wagner to future generations to ‘do something new’ has often been taken too literally. Here we get rehearsal footage, comments and a justification for the production by those involved and even a plug for the sponsors, Siemens.
Katharina has stated that she aims to ‘make the Festival accessible to a wide public’ and for ‘a strategy of transparency while setting artistic standards for future interpretations of Wagner and winning new opera fans’. With the long wait for Bayreuth tickets it is now more possible to keep up-to-date with what is going on than ever before. It is no good some critics complaining that things are not what they were at Bayreuth without the Wagnerian, as well as the general opera-loving public, having the evidence to discuss the work going on there. At least the recent two DVD releases, along with the Ring CDs conducted by Thielemann, can only help promote the debate that I am sure Katharina and Eva surely welcome from those distanced from — what the blurb on this Tristan calls — ‘the spiritual home of Wagner’s work’.
This imbues this DVD with an historical importance but it is recommended for so much more — and even though the supporting singers are not the same quality — there are still world-class performances from Iréne Theorin’s committed, radiant Isolde and Robert Dean Smith’s lyrical, inexhaustible Tristan. It is also extremely well conducted by the Bayreuth veteran, Peter Schneider and, together with the two central performances; it is often possible to be transported to a realm far away from the drabness of the stage designs.
— Jim Pritchard, MusicWeb International
John Barbirolli: Complete RCA & Columbia Album Collection
The young John Barbirolli was hardly known in America when the New York Philharmonic-Symphony Orchestra chose him to be Arturo Toscanini’s successor starting in 1937. The 36-year-old Londoner’s first season was a triumph with both players and audiences, and although his years in New York would be increasingly marred by unfair rivalry with Toscanini – lured back to lead a specially created NBC Symphony – and by partisan hostility from two influential critics, Barbirolli’s tenure can now be looked back on as a real success.
From 1938 until 1943, when he returned to the UK to take over Manchester’s Hallé Orchestra, Sir John made a series of recordings in New York for American Columbia and RCA Victor which are still essential for a full appreciation of this revered conductor’s career, “performances that are as competitive today as they were when initially released” (Fanfare). Sony Classical is pleased to reissue them in a newly remastered six-CD set.
Among the treasures here are Debussy’s Iberia and Tchaikovsky’s Francesca da Rimini (both recorded in 1938) and the first-ever recording of Schubert’s Fourth (“Tragic”) Symphony (from 1939), together cited by Gramophone as “a demonstration that the Philharmonic-Symphony had few rivals in the world at the time as a recording orchestra … A forceful, high-powered reading [of the symphony] which yet has a Schubertian smile … The crisp attack in the Tchaikovsky, even tauter than in Barbirolli’s superb 1969 HMV New Philharmonia version, is thrillingly caught. The Debussy brings the most vivid sound of all, weighty and full of presence, with castanets and brass leaping out from the speakers. This is a white-hot performance, every bit as exciting as those of Toscanini, and with a moving vein of tenderness in the slow second movement.”
There are several works by Mozart, among them the Clarinet Concerto with Benny Goodman (from 1940) and the Symphony No. 25 and Piano Concerto No. 27 with Robert Casadesus (both from 1941). The Piano Concerto’s opening Allegro “is beautifully shaped with an almost palpable sense of wonder in the music and the pianist is definitely having a ball of time,” said Classical Net. “The final Allegro is also very commendable for its grand sense of pomp and majesty … The exquisite symphony also receives wonderful attention and care from Barbirolli and the NYPSO. Here one can sense the conductor's love for Mozart’s inspired melodies … Benny Goodman is a characterful interpreter of the Clarinet Concerto.”
“The generous flavor of Barbirolli’s Brahms comes through in the Academic Festival Overture and the Second Symphony [both from 1940],” wrote Audiophile Audition’s reviewer. “The Overture is rife with ceremonial grandeur and jolly spirits. The D major Symphony has a debonair airiness and bucolic relaxation about it.” And Sibelius’s First Symphony (from 1942) “should delight fans of Barbirolli’s 1960s complete traversal of the symphonies … The conductor’s warmth, vision, and emotional urgency has lost none of its appeal in the more than half century that has passed” (Fanfare).
Also from 1942 is Nathan Milstein playing the Bruch Concerto with “the Philharmonic-Symphony in tremendous form,” exclaimed MusicWeb International’s critic. “Barbirolli opens powerfully and Milstein responds in kind; not over emoted and with vibrato perfectly scaled to the demands of the music. He is really quite withdrawn and introspective in the Adagio, powerfully so indeed, and Barbirolli brings out the horn harmonies in a way that seems to reveal them for the first time. There is romantic fervour but also passagework clarity and digital cleanliness in the finale … a model of concerto accompaniment and creative collaboration.”
CONTENTS
DISC 1:
Purcell (arr. Barbirolli): Suite for Strings, Woodwind and Horns (Remastered)
Debussy: Images pour orchestre, L. 122: No. 2, Iberia (Remastered)
Tchaikovsky: Francesca da Rimini, Op. 32 (Remastered)
Respighi: Antiche danze et arie per liuto, Suite No.3 (Remastered)
Respighi: Fontane di Roma (Remastered)
DISC 2:
Schubert: Symphony No. 4 in C Minor, D. 417, "Tragic" (Remastered)
Schubert: 5 German Dances, D. 89 (Remastered)
Brahms: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73 (Remastered)
DISC 3:
Sibelius: Symphony No. 1 in E Minor, Op. 39 (Remastered)
Sibelius: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 43 (Remastered)
DISC 4:
Smetana: The Bartered Bride, JB 1:100: Overture (Remastered)
Rimsky-Korsakov: Capriccio espagnol, Op. 34 (Remastered) with Mishel Piastro, violin & Joseph Schuster, cello
Ravel: La valse, M. 72 (Remastered)
Berlioz: Roman Carnival Overture, Op. 9 (Remastered)
Brahms: Academic Festival Overture, Op. 80 (Remastered)
Debussy: Petite Suite, L. 65, No. 4 "Ballet" (Remastered)
Debussy: Première rhapsodie, L. 116 (Remastered) with Benny Goodman, clarinet
Bach, J.S. (arr. Barbirolli): Sheep May Safely Graze, BWV 208, No. 9 (Remastered)
DISC 5:
Mozart: Clarinet Concerto in A Major, K. 622 with Benny Goodman, clarinet
Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-Flat Major, K. 595 (Remastered) with Robert Casadesus, piano
Mozart: Symphony No. 25 in G Minor, K. 183 (Remastered)
DISC 6:
Bruch: Violin Concerto No. 1 in G Minor, Op. 26 (Remastered) with Nathan Milstein, violin
Tchaikovsky: Suite No. 3 in G Major, Op. 55: IV. Tema con variazioni. Andante con moto (Remastered)
Various (arr. Barbirolli): An Elizabethan Suite (Remastered)
-----
REVIEW:
It is surely no coincidence that this retrospective set is released in the 50th anniversary year of Sir John Barbirolli’s death. It focuses on almost all – but not quite all – of Barbirolli’s recordings with his Philharmonic-Symphony Orchestra of New York, here updated to ‘New York Philharmonic’. The missing item is the Schumann Violin Concerto with Menuhin, the rights of which now lie with Warner. The inclusion of Bach's Sheep May Safely Graze is very welcome here, and as Leonard Slatkin showed in his Bach ‘Conductors’ Transcriptions’ album, it’s a most effective and affecting piece of work.
The first of the six well-filled discs disinters Barbirolli’s arrangements of Purcell. The six-movement Suite proves memorably sonorous and full bloodied with highlights being Fairest Isle and When I am Laid in Earth. This is followed by a splendidly recorded and vividly played Iberia with the Victor engineers on top form, and Francesca da Rimini. Respighi’s The Fountains of Rome and the Arie di corte from the Ancient Airs and Dances are similarly charged.
The Schubert Fourth on Disc 2 - the first recording of the work ever made - is tremendously impressive: powerful, lyrical, excellently controlled. Brahms’ Second Symphony however is exceptionally fast – not a criticism that could ever be levelled at the older JB – and if one thinks that Monteux in San Francisco in 1945 was fleetness itself that would be to reckon without Barbirolli. The Allegretto is uncomfortable to listen to and in fact the whole performance is unconvincing on a number of levels.
Sibelius comes to the rescue in disc three where there are memorable recordings of the First Symphony (1942) and the Second (1940). Sibelius was a known Barbirolli strength but his tempi in the 1950s with the Hallé are predictably more driven than those he took in the following decade. If sound quality is king then the Hallé recordings from the 60s are preferable but interpretively the 1957 First and the 1952 Second – along with the famous RPO Second – are indispensable, along with these two New York recordings.
The fourth CD is a bits-and-pieces affair. There’s lusty Smetana, a brightly recorded but idiomatically played Rimsky Capriccio espagnole, and La Valse which faced predictably strong competition on disc from Munch and Monteux. If the string tone in Le Carnaval romain is a touch acidic, the Academic Festival Overture is more rounded, and the performance a strong B plus. Benny Goodman joins for a timbrally distinctive Debussy First Rhapsody. There’s more Goodman in the penultimate disc where he plays Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto. Casadesus and Barbirolli make a fine team in Mozart’s Concerto No. 27. Symphony No.25 completes this all-Mozart disc; athletic, youthful and vibrant.
Nathan Milstein’s excellent Bruch G minor heads the final disc and whilst the recording is not top-drawer, Milstein’s playing is. Tchaikovsky’s Tema con variazioni from the Orchestral Suite No.3 is slightly cut. Finally, we end with Barbirolli’s An Elizabethan Suite, his arrangements of Byrd, Farnaby, and Bull, a synchronous way to end given that the first piece of the first disc was his Purcell arrangement.
Each disc is housed in a retro, 78rpm album sleeve and the booklet is filled with 78 and subsequent LP sleeves – very colourful and tactile – as well as job and recording sheets from the sessions and black and white photographs of Barbirolli.
This box is a finely produced and concentrated focus on Barbirolli’s New York shellac years and comes with a fair-minded, level-headed booklet note from James H North.
– MusicWeb International (Jonathan Woolf)
Bach: Toccatas, Preludes & Fugues / Nordstoga
In his ninth and tenth of a total of fourteen releases of Bach’s collected organ works, Kare Nordstoga pulls together much of what was not collected from the composer’s side- preludes and fugues. The double form prelude (or toccata) and fugue has been an established form of composition since the 1600s. The North Germans Dietrich Buxtehude and Georg Bohm made a powerful contribution to this contrastive style in which the freer first part and the more rigorous second part are united in a dynamic whole. The young Johann Sebastian harvested significant impressions from these two composers during his time in Lubeck and Luneburg, and this album was recorded in Luneburg. Kare Nordstoga (b. 1954) studied at the Norwegian Academy of Music. Following his debut in 1978, he continued his studies in London and he was for a time organist at Ullern Church, before coming to Oslo Cathedral in 1984. He has also been associated with the Norwegian Academy of Music, where he was appointed professor in 1994.
REVIEW:
Nordstoga displays a fine architectural grasp of the works and builds them with convincing inevitability. Integrity is the hallmark of all his playing: He is careful but not cautious; deliberate and determined but not dragging and dour; sure-handed and solid but not showy or superficial. The only thing I do not find here is the uniquely electrifying excitement that Ton Koopman brings to his complete cycle. But if, unlike me, your taste in Bach organ performances runs more towards the older tradition of stately grandeur, then definitely consider investing in Nordstoga.
– Fanfare
Rush
OCEAN EYES
Leshnoff: Violin Concerto no. 1, String Quartet no. 1 / Wetherbee, Carpe Diem Quartet
REVIEWS:
Leshnoff might compose his music for anyone who wants to listen, but it seems to me that the inattentive listener will be cheated out of most of its pleasures. Indeed, it wasn’t until I sat down and really listened to this CD on my home stereo that I realized how fine this music is. It asks the listener to devote time and attention to it; there’s no pandering here, but I think it still is accessible to anyone who is sufficiently open-minded enough to enjoy Hindemith, Bartók, or late Stravinsky, for example. (Surely that’s not too much to ask!)
The Violin Concerto could well be a significant addition to the instrument’s repertoire. Five movements are indicated, but because there is no pause between the first and second movements, and none between the fourth and fifth, and also because there is a tempo change in the fourth, the work’s structure is more complicated than the CD’s track listing indicates. The concerto opens with a figure not unlike Westminster chimes, and because it reappears several times throughout the concerto, it serves as a kind of guidepost. The opening Allegro drives forward with purpose, and is serious but not grim. There is much to interest the ears, not least in the orchestration, which is consistently imaginative. The solo writing is idiomatic, as if Leshnoff composed it for himself. At 7:57, the second movement (Slow) is the concerto’s longest, and it is here that we are introduced to Leshnoff’s more lyrical side. Again, orchestral colors are deployed with an artist’s sensitivity, and the musical argument is well considered and involving, with an emotional intensity suggesting that the composer, in spite of his age, is something of an old soul. If Samuel Barber had lived longer, he might have written music not unlike this. The central Scherzo lightens the mood—for a time—without disturbing the concerto’s emotional trajectory. Prokofiev comes to mind. Leshnoff uses the orchestra masterfully, avoiding both cliché and novelty for novelty’s sake. The fourth movement (Slow–Fast) returns to the mood of the second, but it is more unsettled, and soon becomes agitated. A crisis is reached, and then resolved—but only partly—in the closing Elegy, which again is reminiscent of Barber. The music stops before one expects it to, giving the concerto an open-ended feeling. Although he didn’t write a programmatic work, one of Leshnoff’s inspirations was a story told by a Holocaust survivor. During forced labor, SS guards would make prisoners sing Nazi propaganda songs, but the prisoners would insert their prayers into these songs. In light of this story, one can better understand why the concerto ends as it does.
Distant Reflections is scored for solo violin, piano, and strings, with an offstage string quartet. This might be thought of as Leshnoff’s response to Vaughan Williams’s Tallis Fantasia , except here Leshnoff uses fragments from a Mass by Ockeghem. As in the concerto (but without sounding like it), a very refined ear is at work (in terms of both color and form), and Distant Reflections is at once sensual and serious. Without talking down to listeners or gimmickry, Leshnoff indeed has succeeded in writing new music that could appeal to many.
Pearl German is the wife of Jeremiah German, “a college professor with an abiding love of music,” according to Naxos’s booklet notes. The String Quartet No. 1 was a commission in honor of German’s wife, on the occasion of her 80th birthday. The four movements, beginning with “Winter,” are named after the four seasons. Again, this is not a programmatic work—there are no Vivaldian stamping feet or barking dogs. Instead, Leshnoff seems to be aiming at a more metaphysical reflection on the cycles of life. Ending the work with “Autumn” allows Leshnoff yet another downbeat ending, which he seems to like and does well. In terms of both timbre and emotions, this quartet is refined, eschewing that which is obvious or easy. As in the other two works, his writing is concise; Leshnoff is not a composer who goes on talking after he has nothing more to say.
These performances, all supervised by the composer, make an excellent case for the music. Wetherbee is a first-class violinist, whether he is a soloist or within the very able Carpe Diem String Quartet, whose other members are Wendy Morton, Korine Fujiwara, and Robert Firdman. The Baltimore Chamber Orchestra, founded in the 1980s, plays with polish under the direction of Markand Thakar, and with evident appreciation for Leshnoff’s ideas. There are some weird and annoying sonic artifacts, only noticeable during pauses and very quiet sections in the recording of the String Quartet; it sounds as if another ensemble were playing in a studio two doors down. Otherwise, Naxos’s recording is excellent.
Labels like to push their hot new composers, and after a while, one gets skeptical over this or that so-called discovery. Leshnoff, however, is excitingly “the real thing,” and I expect we’ll be hearing a lot more from and about him in years to come.
-- Fanfare
Lonely City
Haydn: Nikolaimesse, Nelson Mass / Burdick, Rebel, Trinity Choir
Naxos already had a decent recording of the ‘Nelson’ Mass (8.554416, with the ‘Little Organ’ Mass, Hob.XXII/7) on which soloists, the Hungarian Radio Chorus and the Nikolaus Esterházy Sinfonia were conducted by Béla Drahos. The new recording, Volume 3 of the Naxos series of the Haydn Masses, is also available in an 8-CD.
The Nikolaimesse, recorded in 2002, gets the new recording off to a very good start. The music is lighter, less vintage Haydn than its more familiar companion, with mainly brisk tempi much in the manner of the short early Masses which Mozart composed for his Salzburg patron Archbishop Coloredo. It also receives a fine performance and recording. The soloists don’t merit a listing on the rear insert, but they are named inside the booklet, as they deserve to be. If I select Ann Hoyt, the soprano, for special praise, that should not be at the expense of the others.
To be honest, I had not expected much from this CD - I hadn’t heard of any of the performers and I’d forgotten the warm reception which the complete box had received - but the performance of the Nikolaimesse alone makes it worth the modest price. All concerned convince me that this early work is at least the equal of any of Mozart’s Masses, with the exception of the Coronation (K317) the ‘Great’ Mass (K427)and, of course, the Requiem (K626).
The ‘Nelson’ Mass is, I think, at least the equal of the three best Mozart Masses. I shall continue to give it that name as a kind of shorthand, though it has very little to do with Lord Nelson: Haydn nicknames have a habit of sticking even when they are inappropriate - there is at least enough evidence to doubt that it was at a performance of Symphony No.96 that the heavy chandelier narrowly missed causing serious injury, yet the name ‘Miracle’ continues to be attached to that work. Haydn himself called it Missa in angustiis, Mass in straitened times, but it’s easier and shorter to continue to call it the ‘Nelson’.
The opening Kyrie announces that this is a more serious work than the Nikolaimesse. As Jennifer More Glagov notes in the excellent booklet, the lack of wind players - the Prince had just dismissed them as an economy measure - apart from three (specially hired?) trumpets gives the work an undeniably martial tone.
The performers again give an excellent account of themselves. Only Ann Hoyt remains from the earlier line-up and continues to sing impressively - my wife came in as I was listening and was very surprised to discover that this was the voice of a singer whom neither she nor I had heard before. Naxos and others please note, we want to hear more of her. The other soloists and the choir also step up to the plate and the recording, though thicker than for the earlier work, recorded five years earlier, is more than adequate. The last semi-professional performance of the ‘Nelson’ that I heard was spoiled by a soprano who out-sang everyone else, but that is certainly not the case here. I understand that all the soloists are members of the Trinity Choir, which must make it a formidable place for the musically inclined to worship.
John Sheppard (hereafter JS) complained of Burdick’s habit of slowing at certain points, but some of these are traditional. In the Creed, for example, the slowing at the end of track 16 on the words descendit de cælis prepares for the more marked traditional emphasis on et incarnatus est in the next section, where it used to be expected that all would kneel or bow deeply. In any case, JS soon began to be as untroubled by this practice as I was.
William Hedley (hereafter WH) commented on the reverberant acoustic of the Trinity Church but I really was not troubled by this - different audio systems react differently to reverberant recordings. Nor was I really troubled by the other detailed criticisms which he makes. Rather than repeat these here, I refer you to his review. Whilst I admit the validity of just about all of them, I cannot consider them a serious handicap to an overall recommendation.
WH is more than a little hard on the diction - the syllables are frequently chopped up in the wrong places, but the demise of Latin in the school curriculum makes it almost inevitable that a choir’s familiarity with that language can no more be taken for granted than a knowledge of Japanese. (Actually, the latter is a more frequent visitor to the modern UK secondary curriculum). Haydn would have expected to hear the harder Austro-Germanic pronunciation of Latin, with hard ‘g’ in virginis, and ‘c’ in crucifixus, for example; I’m pleased to report that all concerned here take the softer Italianate course.
JS raises the possibility that the set as a whole is superior even to Hickox (Chandos CHAN0599, also available separately) or Guest (Argo/Decca). I’m not quite sure that I would go that far, but I was impressed enough by the single CD under consideration to wish to sample more of the set via the Naxos Music Library.
I’ve already praised the quality of the Naxos notes. One small complaint concerns the absence of texts, but the Tridentine Latin Mass is pretty well known and the texts and translations are available online, as indicated above: they can be yours even without buying the CD.
Overall, I think that WH is right to prefer John Eliot Gardiner (Philips 470 2862, with the Theresienmesse) and Trevor Pinnock (DG Archiv 423 0972, with the Te Deum). I recommended the Pinnock version of the ‘Nelson’ Mass as Download of the Month in my May 2009 Download Roundup) and thoroughly agree with WH that it offers a life-enhancing experience, but I can’t imagine purchasers of the present CD being disappointed with J Owen Burdick’s performances. Having heard the recording right through once, I couldn’t wait to hear it all again, instead of taking the usual time out to gather my impressions. Go for Pinnock for the best - even at full price and rather short value - but the new Naxos makes a very fine and less expensive alternative.
-- Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International
Martinu: Complete Piano Music Vol 6 / Giorgio Koukl
Volume six starts with the 1931 Esquisses H203. They’re written in pungent neo-classical form, and hints of chinoiserie, Paris-style, haunt the second of the six, as well as Ragtime. Martinu, though, always remained far more allusive stylistically than fellow Czech Schulhoff in this regard. Impressionist hues haunt the Fourth whilst I’m sure I hear a larky Volga Boatmen embedded in the Ragtime melos of No.5 – plenty of sinewy articulation here.
Jeux was also written in 1931 and is a locus classicus of Martinu cross-rhythms. I suggest you start with No.3 of the four of Book I, which is both fluent and fluid but also sports a characteristically saturnine neo-classical drive. The second book is no less fine for all that: in some ways it’s more piquant still, with a warm and malleable quality to the Andante [No.3] and a martial tune laced with Prokofiev-like moments [No.6]. We go right back to 1917 for Tri lyrické skladby (Three Lyric Pieces). These take in a Mussorgsky Pictures feel in the first of the three. The second starts like an etude, diverts to popular chinoiserie, then noodles off in the direction of the nineteenth century drawing room. Weird mélange.
There are pieces you probably have not come across even in literature devoted to the composer. The Black Bottom is one. It dates from 1927 and is a delightful minute’s worth of your time. The sleeve note writers have relied too much on Wikipedia for this one. Jelly Roll Morton’s Black Bottom Stomp came via Perry Bradford’s introduction of it in 1919 in Nashville, Tennessee, not the Black Bottom district of Detroit. Naturally you won’t be interested in this, but I am.
Vecer na pobreží (Evening at the Shore) dates from 1921 and will intrigue admirers of the composer. In three brief movements he creates an intimate impressionistic tableau, somewhat reliant on Griffes possibly, where, in the central panel, the left hand waves lap into the right hand melody line delightfully and where the storm in the finale gently eases away. This may seem atypical but it shows the ease with which he assimilated French models and distilled them potently. The disc ends with the grand bell peals of Písen beze slov, the valedictory Nocturne and the plangent Chanson triste in D minor....
So Koukl’s pilgrimage has come to its end. He has been a most worthy guide, and now takes his place at the top table of Martinu performers on record. At budget price he has no peers. As a complete cycle this set has no rivals. Individual performances from the likes of Firkušný, Leichner and others may be more arresting in isolation but the overarching reach of Koukl proves dominant and permanent.
-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International
Moleiro: Piano Works / Clara Rodriguez
This appears to be a reissue of a recital previously available on ASV (ASV CD DCA 890), and recorded, I believe, in 1994. It is good to have it back in circulation, as it offers a well-played representation of an interesting minor composer.
Moleiro was born in Zaraza in Venezuela and in the mid 1920s he studied piano in Caracas with a well-known teacher, Don Salvador Llamozas. He went on to make a career as a pianist, composer and teacher. This present CD includes the bulk of the work he wrote for the piano.
Most of the music here is not strikingly Latin American in manner, although there are a few distinctive touches here and there which speak of its geographical origins. For the most part Moleiro's piano music has about it a kind of aristocratic grace, and works within mostly European models understood from a South American perspective. At times one senses a kind of nostalgia for European forms and what they might represent. One is not surprised to encounter 'El senor de la peluca' - the gentleman with the wig - or to find oneself listening to a charming Waltz.
Moleiro's Sonatinas are written in the tradition of Scarlatti (though being far from mere pastiche); his Prelude and Fugue in C sharp minor have more than a little of Bach about them; the Serenade in the Spanish Style speaks for itself; the Estudio de concierto has clear affinities with Chopin and the delightful La fuente registers its composer's knowledge of Ravel and Debussy. But everywhere there is enough evidence of a personal sensibility at work to maintain the listener's interest. At times Moleiro's programmatic miniatures - such as La muchacha de la herrería (the girl from the blacksmiths), El herrero (The blacksmith) and Los pájaros (The birds) - are attractive additions to a familiar keyboard tradition.
The last two pieces on the CD are the most distinctive. It is unfortunate that the relatively scanty documentation that comes with this CD gives no dates for any of the compositions, so that one has no way of knowing whether or not the sequence of music heard in any way represents the composer's stylistic development. Certainly Estampas del llano (Pictures of the plains) and Joropo are far more thoroughly infused with a sense of the composer's native land, and without that nostalgic air mentioned above. Though the musical language of Estampas del llano is essentially European in nature, its evocation of the Venezuelan plains, in their contrasting fecundity and aridity, makes it music that no European composer would have written. The joropo music of Venezuela grew out of the fusion of ancient Spanish traditions, including the fandango and the malagueña (themselves incorporating Arabic influences) with the musics of African slaves and of native South American Indians. It is a heady mix and from it has grown some exciting music. A good deal of that excitement is captured in Moleiro's Joropo for piano, played with considerable panache by Clara Rodriguez.
Throughout this recital the sureness of Rodriguez' technique is evident, and her flexibility ensures that she can sound at home in all of the various musical idioms on which Moleiro's piano music touches. This makes for a consistently entertaining programme - a CD that makes a case, without overstatement, for the music of a figure too little known beyond his native land.
-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International
Radiant Blue
Tippett: Complete String Quartets Vol 1 / Tippett String Quartet
There are only two recordings of the complete Michael Tippett String Quartets currently available. The Lindsays concluded their cycle in 1992, with the first three having been recorded in 1975. For many years, apart from the odd chamber concert or private hearing, their cycle has been the only medium for exploring these seminal works. And excellent they are too. However, all Tippett enthusiasts will be delighted that the eponymous Quartet has been selected by Naxos to make a new reading of these superb pieces.
The Tippett Quartet, which was formed a decade ago, has rapidly become one of Britain’s leading string quartets. Their ‘mission statement’ is to combine so-called mainstream repertoire with contemporary works. They have recently made recordings for Dutton Epoch of music by Cecilia McDowall and Stephen Dodgson. These have been well received. Naturally, as their name implies, they have a ‘soft spot’ for Tippett’s music.
Since hearing the first three Quartets way back in 1975, I have agreed with commentators that these works are critical to an understanding of Tippett. The Fourth and Fifth Quartets chart the composer’s progress into a different soundscape, but remain essential to an appreciation of his career.
The first volume of this Naxos release contrasts the first two ‘lyrical’ Quartets with the much more dissonant Fourth, which was written in 1977-78.
The programme notes point out that Michael Tippett, as a student, was ‘invincibly’ drawn to the quartet medium after hearing performances in London by the Busch and the Lener ensembles. He is known to have written a number of unpublished quartets in the late 1920s. However it was the Quartet in A major that was the first work in the genre to be accepted as part of Tippett’s canon. It appeared in its original form in 1935. In 1943 it was revised, being reduced from four movements to three. The composer had felt that the first two were unsuccessful. He composed a new ‘allegro appassionato’, which clearly reflects the composer’s admiration of Beethoven. The slow movement is truly beautiful. It is ‘cast in the form of an Elizabethan Pavane’ and Tippett describes this music as being ‘almost unbroken lines of lyric song for all the instruments in harmony’. The final movement is an enthusiastic allegro which is really a fugue – although without the pedantic overtones that such a form may suggest. This fugue is perhaps more redolent of Beethoven than J.S. Bach.
The Second String Quartet builds on the success of the first and once again owes much of its ethos to Beethoven. It has been well described as being ‘lithe and dancing’. Certainly lyricism is one of the hallmarks of this work. One reviewer suggested that the key designation of F# major should not put off atonalists from enjoying this quartet. Contrariwise, those who enjoy traditional key relationships should not assume that Tippett will oblige them: certainly the work begins in F# minor and concludes in the tonic major, as does the second movement fugue. However, a better impression is gained if it is assumed that Tippett has designed a work that hovers around the ‘noted’ key rather than using it as a part of the work’s tonal structure. Yet the composer himself states that this quartet is the most classically balanced of the first three. At first glance it would appear to be written in standard four-movement form. However the composer insists that the “standard is juggled with and moved around.”
This work ought to rank as one of the finest examples of a twentieth century string quartet. It seems unbelievable that there are only two or three recordings of this currently available. The Second Quartet was first performed in 1943.
The first time I heard the Fourth Quartet, I admit that I was not impressed. Its style seemed a million miles away from the Tippett that I knew and loved. This included the Double Concerto, the first two Quartets, the A Midsummer Marriage and A Child of our Time. I realised that there was a more complex and dissonant side to Tippett’s art – having ploughed my way through a recording of the Vision of St Augustine. I remember hearing the first performance of the Fourth Symphony at the Royal Albert Hall and feeling it was just not what I imagined or hoped what it would be like. It was harder to come to terms with than the blues-influenced Third Symphony. That was all a very long time ago: music, like life, sorts itself out. What was difficult listening for me in 1978 now seems quite reasonable and even enjoyable. Moreover, the same can be said of the Fourth Quartet. Listening to this work for the first time in many years I was impressed by both the sound-world and its formal balance. Tippett has written many, to my mind, obscure and obtuse words about his compositional ethos. Sometimes this can be of help, but more often that not it is a hindrance to an appreciation of the music. The programme notes point out that in this present work Tippett was exploring “the compositional potential of one-movement form, using it a metaphor for the cycle of life.” Here, this life is a specifically human one, and that of a certain individual. Over and above this emotional programme, the composer was attempting to attain the ‘purity and tenderness’ of Beethoven.
The sleeve-notes gives quite a long analysis of this work – which deserves study. However the key thing to note is that there is much beauty in this work – in spite of the reputation this work has for dissonance. And finally, the work is really conceived as being in one movement – as opposed to the earlier works. The Quartet has a number of sections, which contrast tempi, and to a certain extent harmonic language, but is played without a break. Finally the listener will surely note that the third section is truly lyrical: the music here is beautiful and lacks the acerbic sound of earlier pages.
This CD will appeal strongly to all interested in the chamber music of Michael Tippett. The three works as performed with great technical skill, articulation and sheer understanding of the music. Naturally there is a hiatus in style between the first two Quartets and the last. Yet the Tippett Quartet are equally at home with the lyrical demands of the earlier works as they are with the more complex, dissonant and involved structures of the last. However, if the listener needs a sample of the sheer perfection of this recording, they only need to listen to the Lento cantabile of the A major Quartet. This is surely one of the most beautiful and moving pieces of music in Tippett’s catalogue in particular and in English music in general.
-- John France, MusicWeb International