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Donizetti: Linda di Chamounix / Gamba, Pratt, Orchestra e Coro del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino [Blu-ray]
Dynamic · Dec 2021Blu-Ray$36.99 -
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Schubert: Piano Sonatas D. 959 And D. 960 / Hans-Jurg Strub [2 SACDs]
Ars Produktion · Sep 2020SACD$32.99 -
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Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 4; Mussorgsky: A Night On The Bare Mountain; Prokofiev: The Love For Three Oranges Suite
ICA Classics · Sep 2011CD$14.99 -
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Weinberg: Symphony No 6, Rhapsody On Moldavian Themes / Lande, St Petersburg Symphony Orchestra
Naxos · Apr 2012CD$19.99 -
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Wolf-Ferrari: 3 Violin Sonatas / Davide Alogna, Costantino Catena
Brilliant Classics · Jan 2021CD$13.99 -
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Mercadante: Didone Abbandonata / Marchi, Academia Montis Regalis, Coro Maghini
Naxos AudioVisual · Jun 2019DVD$30.99 -
Sounds Of Brazil And Argentina: Songs By Gustavino, Ginastera, Mignone, Guarnieri & Ripper
Music & Media · Oct 2014CD$20.99 -
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SaleCesti: La Dori / Dantone, Accademia Bizantina [Blu-Ray]
Naxos AudioVisual · Nov 2020DVD$34.99$24.99 -
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Donizetti: Linda di Chamounix / Gamba, Pratt, Orchestra e Coro del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino [Blu-ray]
| Linda di Chamounix is a pretty country girl who is in love with Carlo, who she believes is a penniless artist. Her honor is threatened by the local squire and she escapes to Paris in search of fortune. This is a tale of courage and madness, in which we discover and experience the strength and suffering of a woman torn apart by estrangement from family and love. Donizetti reaped full and long-lasting success with Linda di Chamounix, and it became one of his most modern, appreciated and long-lived works. Jessica Pratt leads an all-star cast in this acclaimed production from the Teatro del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino. |
Gade: Complete Piano Trios / Trio Parnassus
GADE Piano Trio, op. 42. Piano Trio (1839): first movement. Novelettes, op. 29. Piano Quartet: Scherzo • Trio Parnassus; Thomas Selditz (va) • MDG 303 1665-2 (64: 06)
Gade’s works for piano trio are pragmatic, thorough, technically accomplished, and compact. Their reluctance to sprawl is an advantage as it allows one to concentrate on their salient features, which include romantic ardor, lyric profusion, and a confident sense of projection. The op. 42 Trio in F Major was written between February 1862 and December 1863, and the vibrant playing of Trio Parnassus and the excellent recording allow a full exploration of its Schumannesque elements. Pianist Chia Chou anchors the performance with considerable strength and finesse, while violinist Yamei Yu essays some effective slides. Michael Gross is the excellent cellist. They bring a fine corporate sense of buoyancy and lyricism to the second movement, an Allegro molto vivace. (However, I was able to go back to the first-ever recording of this movement, in a 1917 performance by Albert Sammons, W.H. Squire, and William Murdoch, and there you will find a far greater sense of characterization and intensity.) The Andantino is a rather lovely Lied, rich in legato, and the finale rings with an almost Mendelssohnian panache.
The 1854 Novelettes are possibly as well known as the trio. There are five miniatures in all, and one explicitly quotes Schumann. They’re played with genuine poise, with fine unisons, excellent soliloquies, and a judicious balance. The plangent elements of the Larghetto are as well explored as the more bucolic, folkloric elements of the central Moderato. The discarded finale to the Novelettes in the original 1853 version—Gade revised the work in 1854—is also included, and it’s a fiery and confident affair. The projected four-movement Piano Trio of 1839 never materialized and all that remains is the opening movement, a solid 12-and-a-half-minute affair opening with an Adagio section and moving on to the Allegro con fuoco . Sketches do exist of the inner movements, but nothing remains of the finale. It’s a very strongly programmatic movement, and fortunately Gade’s narrative has survived, a typically romantic one, reprinted in the liner note. But it’s not at all necessary to know this narrative to appreciate the slow, intense introduction and the extroverted Allegro replete with passionate declamation. The Scherzo for a piano quartet (1836) is a youthful, big-boned work strongly reflecting Gade’s absorption of Mendelssohn once again.
I referred earlier to the recording quality, which certainly enhances this traversal of the complete piano trio works materially and so too, obviously, the playing. There is a fine performance of the op. 42 and the Novelettes by the Abegg Trio on Tacet 112, but that is coupled with the Chopin Trio. So if your priority is wholly Gade, then this MDG fits the bill perfectly.
FANFARE: Jonathan Woolf
Final Thoughts: The Last Piano Works of Schubert & Brahms / Osorio
Jorge Federico Osorio, “an imaginative interpreter with a powerful technique (The New York Times), deftly pairs Brahms’s final solo piano works with those by Schubert for an inventive program of richly satisfying works that capture the essence of each composer’s towering individuality. Here, Osorio records Brahms’s Three Intermezzos, Op. 117, and Six Piano Pieces, Op 118, which he last recorded nearly two decades ago, to great acclaim: “Quite marvelous,” said BBC Music Magazine. “It’s clear that Jorge Federico Osorio is an important Brahmsian,” proclaimed the Chicago Tribune. On his new album, Osorio’s penchant for color accentuates the individual character of these concentrated miniatures. Osorio has also chosen to record Schubert’s final two Piano Sonatas, D. 959 and D. 960, epic in scale and brimming with melodic invention. His insights into the music’s architecture yield eloquent performances of these spacious, ambitious masterworks.
REVIEW:
A generous feast: All of Brahms’ last piano pieces bracketed in between Schubert’s last two sonatas, performed by a musicianly virtuoso, captured in intimately close yet amply robust sonics. Jorge Federico Osorio’s mastery beckons your attention. The Schubert D. 959 A major sonata’s sprawling first movement receives a fluid and intelligently nuanced reading, followed by an Andantino that assiduously builds up to and decompresses after its shattering central climax. The scherzo’s easy lilt and winsomely varied chord arpeggiations justify a more easygoing, less precipitous tempo than usual. While the Rondo finale doesn’t quite match Pollini’s winged poetry, one cannot ignore Osorio’s firm left-hand underpinning and clear voice leading.
At times his rhythmic inflections in the D. 960 B-flat sonata Molto moderato’s exposition pull focus from the narrative flow, yet these gestures still sound internalized and well considered. In contrast, Osorio unifies his expansive conception of the Andante sostenuto with a hypnotic, resolutely steady accompanying ostinato figure. The Scherzo is curvy and playful, as Osorio leaves you guessing as to which of the Trio’s off-beat bass notes he will accent. On the other hand, the left-hand syncopations in the Rondo’s second theme recede too much in the background, although once the tumultuous minor-key theme kicks in, Osorio’s poetic and dramatic powers decisively click into focus.
In the main, Osorio’s late Brahms charts a direct path that differs from Arcadi Volodos’ poetic ruminations. Compare, for example, Volodos’ discursive rendering of Op. 117 No. 1’s central episode alongside Osorio’s comparatively stronger rhythmic delineation of the same passage and you’ll hear what I mean. Still, Osorio offers illuminating rhetorical touches: notice his yearning hesitation on certain of Op. 119 No. 2’s upbeats, Op. 118 No. 4’s thoughtful contrapuntal interplay between the hands with barely a trace of pedal, the pinpointed control of Op. 116 No. 5’s short phrases, not to mention the strong tenor voice presence in Op. 116 No. 6. And his angular parsing of Op. 117 No. 3’s main theme underlines the music’s unsettled qualities that more than a few pianists too willingly flatten out. Even in a catalog crowded with excellent recordings of these works, Osorio’s cultured artistry offers much to savor over repeated hearings.
– ClassicsToday (Jed Distler)
Schubert: Piano Sonatas D. 959 And D. 960 / Hans-Jurg Strub [2 SACDs]
Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 4; Mussorgsky: A Night On The Bare Mountain; Prokofiev: The Love For Three Oranges Suite
The upfront blare of horns and bassoons at the start of the Tchaikovsky gives a clear indication of the character of Rozhdestvensky’s approach to this score; it’s vital and vigorous, yet the rhythms of ‘In movimento di Valse’ have grace and charm. The big climaxes pack a terrific punch – what thrilling timps – the transported brass scything through the mix like one of those brazen, Soviet-era performances. That’s not to say it’s over-driven – well, not yet, anyway – merely that it’s not the carefully sculpted sound-world of, say, Claudio Abbado (DG) or Lorin Maazel (Telarc). This uncompromising earthiness is reinforced by a forthright, yet detailed, recording.
The oboe playing at the start of the Andantino is lovely, Rozhdestvensky alive to the emotional undertow of this music. The strings and woodwind are wonderfully alert and ardent, testament perhaps to Noddy’s rigorous rehearsals, and there’s real nobility in those big, swelling tunes. Anyone who knows Rozhdestvensky’s Royal Festival Hall Sleeping Beauty (BBC Legends BBCL 4091-2) will recognise that seemingly intuitive feel for phrasing; it all sounds so spontaneous. As for the animated pizzicati of the Scherzo, they have a fleeting, will-o’-the-wisp quality that’s most engaging.
All that evaporates in the sudden heat of the Allegro con fuoco. In his autobiography producer John Culshaw tells the story of how Georg Szell was tricked into taping an ill-tempered – yet fiery – rendition of this finale, but even he can’t match the incandescence of Rozhdestvensky’s reading. The BBC brass and percussion are truly heroic, the orchestra hard-driven yet coherent to the very end. I listened to this track several times, scarcely able to believe this music could be taken at such a lick and not descend into chaos. The instant roar from the otherwise very quiet audience says it all. A thumping performance, and a pretty good recording too.
A Night on the Bare Mountain, most often played in Rimsky’s orchestration, is given here in Anatoly Liadov’s hotch-potch culled from Mussorgsky’s unfinished opera Sorochinsky Fair. The change of venue – London’s Royal Albert Hall – and the very immediate recording add an edge to the choral singing that brings plenty of piquancy and passion to this strange hybrid. Remarkably, Rozhdestvensky gets his British forces to play and sing with all the abandon of their Russian counterparts. What a team they would have made in Alexander Nevsky. Musically this is fascinating, with unusual colours and a melting coda. I’d urge you to give this a try if you don’t already know it.
If not Nevsky, then Prokofiev’s suite from The Love for Three Oranges will do very nicely, thank you. And so it proves; ‘The Clowns’ is played with manic energy and ‘The Magician’ is magnificently malevolent. Prokofiev’s audacious rhythms and acid colours are superbly caught, ditto the ever-present percussion and demented brass. As for the March and Scherzo, they’re imbued with rather more menace than usual, ‘The Prince and Princess’ as inward and ardent as ever. The scurrying strings and lancing brass of ‘The Flight’ have seldom emerged with such ferocity, or the cymbals sizzled so. An ear-blasting end to a most entertaining collection.
Noddy fans will want this disc, and those who have yet to experienced his unique blend of eloquence and excitement would do well to start here. The Tchaikovsky is a stunner, and while the Mussorgsky is something of a curiosity it’s well worth having. The Prokofiev-on-steroids is a wild but welcome bonus.
Another fine issue from ICA.
-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International
Sir Colin Davis Conducts Mozart
Sony Classical is pleased to announce a new batch of reissues from the CBS/Sony and RCA Victor/BMG back catalogues. This latest instalment of the popular series showcases Mozart and Chopin along with conductor Robert Craft’s pioneering Webern recordings and the global journeys of that irrepressible musical explorer Yo-Yo Ma.
Sir Colin Davis was indisputably one of the greatest Mozart conductors of the last century, both in the opera house and in the recording studio. In Munich in the early 1990s, near the end of his tenure as chief conductor of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, he recorded several of the popular serenades and wind concertos (“Davis is completely at home in this music and brings to it grandeur and delicacy in good measure and judicious balance” – Gramophone). And in 1998, as the Dresden Staatskapelle’s first-ever conductor laureate, he recorded twelve opera overtures (“Beautifully turned string playing, wonderful contributions from the wind section, and transparent textures: it all represents splendid ‘big band’ Mozart in the modern tradition” – Classics Today). These superb RCA recordings are now reissued in a 4-album box set.
REVIEW:
Colin Davis’s RCA Mozart CDs from the 1990s, mostly with the Bavarian RSO, tend towards more relaxed tempos than on his earlier analog recordings, a live coupling of the Posthorn Serenade and the Bassoon Concerto recorded at the Mozartfest in Würzburg in June 1992 claiming among its many virtues textural opulence (Eberhard Marschall’s bassoon is among the richest in tone that I’ve ever heard) and, as Christopher Headington noted in these pages (9/94), an unhurried finale ‘despite the Presto marking that tempts less experienced conductors’. You might additionally note Davis’s Toscanini-like vocalizing at the start of the Andantino, a romantic reading that works wonderfully well. Also included are similarly affecting accounts of Eine kleine Nachtmusik, the Wind Serenades Nos 10-12, the Clarinet Concerto (with a mellifluoussounding Karl-Heinz Steffens), and the one CD featuring the Dresden Staatskapelle, an hour’s worth of overtures. I’d never clocked on previous occasions the strong similarity between the very brief Bastien und Bastienne Overture and the opening of Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony. As Mozart orchestral compilations go, this is among the best, one that you should return to with constantly renewed pleasure. The recordings are full-bodied.
--Gramophone
Ashton: Music For Cello And Piano, Vol. 1 / Mizerska, Abbate
Ashton (b. 1859, Durham), is a best-kept secret of British music. He has a generous output of piano music, chamber works and songs. Ashton’s writing for both cello and piano is virtuosic. What strikes the ear is the quality of his melodic inspiration – the lyrical immediacy of his tunes suggests Schubert, set in a style of Brahmsian richness. This CD features world premiere recordings.
REVIEW:
Algernon Ashton, (1859–1937) was a British-born composer who was educated in Germany. When his father died in 1863, his mother moved the family to Leipzig where she was befriended by Clara Schumann. Even as a child, Algernon attended the famous Schumann soirees and rubbed shoulders with famous musicians. After finishing his education, he returned to England. He became professor of piano at the Royal Academy of Music in London and spent the rest of his life in England. Ashton was a prolific composer but many of his works were not published and very few have been recorded. His chamber music output includes four sonatas for violin and piano, four for cello and piano, two piano quartets, and two piano quintets. He also wrote symphonies, but they were never published. The opening work on this Toccata disc is his Arioso, a beautiful piece in a contemplative mood. It has some of the colors of Brahms, but none of his rhythmic bite. The Sonata No. 1 in F Major opens with an Allegro Appassionato, an impassioned plea begging the listener to take a mental voyage to Ashton’s lyrical world of drawing rooms with polished grand pianos and crimson velvet drapes where chamber music was as common as video games are today. He develops the second movement, the Larghetto, with consummate skill and clothes it with jewel tones. Only in the Finale, which he asks to be played Allegro Frescamente, does he bring in a truly rhythmic melody. It could be a happy folk dance replete with clapping and stomping on the accented notes. It’s the kind of music that makes you get up and move! Abbate and Mizerska play all of this music joyfully and with great skill.
The Phantasiestücke is an invitation to reverie. Ashton is a master of melody and he begins with a broad sunny tune that might bring back memories of a hike in German or English woodlands. In the second movement, marked Andantino con Gran Espressione, he leads us away from the cares of the everyday world into the nirvana of pure musical concentration where we can spend a few blissful minutes. After we reach our goal, we return to the village for the last movement marked Allegro Scherzando. There we can relax and tap our toes to another of Ashton’s fast and furious folk tunes. The Second Sonata is a bit more dramatic than the First. Its markings, Moderato and Adagio ma non troppo are somewhat deceiving, because this work is constantly increasing in tension as it builds toward its marvelously animated finale. The two fine artists who currently reside and teach in London, the Polish-born Evva Mizerska and the Naples-born Emma Abbate, play all of this music with great finesse. Ashton’s music is a revelation. It deserves a much wider audience than it has had so far. The sound on the disc is clear with each instrument given equal presence. I enjoyed getting to know Ashton’s story and his music and think this disc should have a place in many record libraries.
-- Fanfare
The Secret Mozart / Christopher Hogwood
MOZART Allegro in g, K 312. Andante and 5 Variations, K 501. 1 Minuetto in D, K 355. Marche funèbre, K 453a. Andantino, K 236. Klavierstücke in F, K 33b. Adagio for Glass Harmonica, K 356. La‚t uns mit geschlungen Händen, K 623. Rondo in F, K 494. Theme and 2 Variations in A, K 460. Fantasia in d, K 397 (2 versions). Sonata in D, K 381 1 • Christopher Hogwood (clvd); Derek Adlam (clvd) 1 • DEUTSCHE HARMONIA MUNDI 82876 832882 (73:46)
Mozart played on the clavichord? What at first may seem an odd concept has ample documentary evidence to support it. As anyone who has been to the Geburtshaus in Salzburg will probably recall, Mozart himself owned a clavichord that he used as a compositional tool for his last major works, according to his widow Constanze’s testimony. And as Christopher Hogwood reminds us in his notes, Mozart makes frequent reference to the instrument in general in his correspondence. As Bach, and Handel before him, then, it seems extremely likely that Mozart used this quietly intimate instrument in domestic music-making.
Hogwood’s recital is played on three instruments, including Mozart’s own, an unfretted instrument of unknown provenance conforming to the simple construction methods of late 18th-century German clavichords. It is the brightest and clearest of the three, with an attractive bell-like sonority in the upper register that makes it highly suitable for the late Adagio for Glass Harmonica, and a “buzzy” quality in bass, as heard in the final passage of the F-Major Rondo, the final movement of the composite Sonata, K 533/K 494. The oldest instrument, used for the first three works in the heading, is an unfretted clavichord by the Hamburg maker Johann Albrecht Hass, signed and dated 1761. The sound (at least as recorded) is to my mind rather on the “tubby” side, with a veiled quality that works particularly well in the chromatic intensity of the Minuetto in D.
Finally, Hogwood plays four works on an unfretted instrument by the Bavarian builder Johann David Schiedmayer. Interestingly, this late example (1791) is the one that approaches most closely the sound of a fortepiano, although I’m not sufficient of an expert on the subject to know if this was a conscious aim of later makers. Among the works played on it are both versions of the familiar Fantasia in D Minor, one of Mozart’s most unsettling keyboard works. The original breaks off on a dominant cadence, while there is another with a 10-bar completion by another hand, possibly August Müller. Hogwood plausibly suggests that the incomplete version was intended as the introduction to a work in D Major (he is not, as he implies, the first to do so; Alfred Einstein advanced the same theory 60 years ago), and consequently uses it as a lead-in to the Sonata in D, K 381, a not altogether convincing solution since the latter is for four hands. The sonata, much the most substantial work on the disc, is given a high-spirited performance by Hogwood and Derek Adlam, who achieve excellent ensemble (listen to the unanimity of the detached eighth-notes at the start of the second half of the opening Allegro), while making much of the concerto-like texture of the finale.
In general, Hogwood’s performances are as accomplished as would be expected from such a seasoned performer. Tempos are sensible, with andantes and allegrettos kept moving purposefully, while fingerwork is clean and well articulated. Ornaments are added where appropriate. Occasionally, I felt the touch was a little heavy and that rhythms were rather unyielding. A little more flexibility and expressivity would not have come amiss, but the recital is nonetheless highly rewarding both as to repertoire and as the rare opportunity to hear what Mozart sounds like on the clavichord. The CD is the third in a series devoted to the clavichord and entitled “The secret . . .”, previous issues having been devoted to Bach and Handel (both on Metronome). To come are “The secret Haydn,” and “The secret Beethoven.”
FANFARE: Brian Robins
Weinberg: Symphony No 6, Rhapsody On Moldavian Themes / Lande, St Petersburg Symphony Orchestra
WEINBERG Rhapsody on Moldavian Themes. Symphony No. 6 • Vladimir Lande, cond; Glinka Choral College Boys’ Ch; St. Petersburg St SO • NAXOS 8572779 (61:02)
Mieczysaw Weinberg’s sad and tortured life is described in the liner notes. The fate of his impressive and unjustly neglected music is explained by the fact that he was kept under wraps by his Soviet masters while others were given all the international glory. Naxos’s series of Weinberg releases, which so far includes three CDs of his cello music, is augmented here with this release of his wonderful Rhapsody on Moldavian Themes and innovative Symphony No. 6.
The Rhapsody begins softly, mysteriously, but builds into an impressive musical structure in which the music almost morphs from one section to another rather than sounding forcibly juxtaposed. These Moldavian themes have a certain Sephardic quality about them, a soulful minor-key tendency that influences one’s emotional reaction to the music even in the most energetic passages. Wisely, too, Weinberg does not over-write, so the piece doesn’t overstay its welcome.
The Sixth Symphony, composed in 1963, is a more mature and reflective work. Divided into five movements, it begins quietly, but this initial Adagio sostenuto does not stay quiet for long; rather, it breaks out into louder, yet no less somber, moods in which the brass and winds combine with the strings in a mode that tends toward the minor. Basses (and possibly cellos) sustain quiet chords while a solo flute plays with great anxiety above them; the solo role then passes on to horn and clarinet. A group of winds, including clarinets, plays a mysterious and restless melody above growling basses; another, quieter eruption with horns ensues; then it ebbs into a soft, unresolved dissonance for the finale.
The second movement includes the chorus of boys’ voices, singing a Lev Kvitko poem about a boy who makes a violin from scraps which he then plays to an audience of animals and birds. (Unfortunately, no texts are included, nor does Naxos direct you to a translation on its website.) The music is bitonal and polyrhythmic, in fact producing at times an almost purposefully uneven, galumphing gait. The music for the boys’ chorus is almost a chant, covering perhaps six tones that are played against the ever-changing harmonies of the orchestral background. A solo violin, emulating the boy’s homemade violin, plays plaintively, then the chorus returns while low wind, string, and brass chords play below them.
The third movement, marked Allegro molto, sounds almost hectic in its fast-forward motion, brass and percussion dominating the soundscape in a more mature and advanced sort of Khachaturian style. An almost klezmer-style clarinet solo interacts with glockenspiel and woodblocks, slurred trombones, and tubas. The fourth is described as a subtle reworking of one of Weinberg’s Jewish Songs from 1944, a rather ominous poem by Samuil Galkin in which the place where a home once stood is now a graveyard for murdered children, which will serve in the future as a memorial. The movement begins in a loud and ominous mood, with crashing timpani, but the chorus enters here in a softer, more conciliatory mood. Its song is a little more involved melodically here, written in C Minor and with the boys often singing in their lower range. Even the clarinet is pitched low, and the basses continue to pursue an ominous mood with occasional outbursts by the horns and low trumpets over percussion. Eventually, what sounds like very low, soft trombones underscore the boys’ song, occasionally colored by glockenspiel and oboe. Oddly, Weinberg ends the symphony with yet another slow movement, marked Andantino. It is based on a poem by Mikhail Lukonin in which “children of the present and future, from the Mississippi to the Mekong, are bid sleep in the confidence of a bright and productive tomorrow.” Appropriately, the music itself is like a lullaby, with wistful choral passages sparsely accompanied, first by the winds and then by lower strings. Certain elements heard earlier make tentative reappearances here, then the choir stops singing in order to give way to a solo violin playing a plaintive melody. The ending is a quiet, unresolved dissonance.
This is remarkable music, excellently played and sung by the various forces involved. As usual, Naxos’s over-reverberant sound blurs the clarity of certain instruments, but in the more atmospheric movement of the symphony this works to its advantage. There’s another recording of the Rhapsody available, conducted by Gabriel Chmura with the Polish National Philharmonic on Chandos 10237, which received a good review in these pages from Barry Brenesal, and both the excellent Kiril Kondrashin and Vladimir Fedoseyev have recorded versions of the Sixth Symphony that I haven’t heard, but taken on its own merits, Vladimir Lande’s performance is very fine.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Agitata / Galou, Dantone, Accademia Bizantina
Delphine Galou is renowned and admired for her musicality and her appealing timbre. She has taken part in many productions of Baroque music and recordings of operas (notably by Vivaldi), but this is her first recital. It is a programme of sacred music, motets, cantatas and excerpts from oratorios, which in the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were influenced by the increasingly fashionable genre of opera. From the famous ‘Agitata infido flatu’ from Vivaldi’s oratorio Juditha triumphans, here counterpointed by an aria from another setting of the story of Judith composed by Jommelli, to Stradella’s Lamentations and Porpora’s magnificent motet ‘In procella sine stella’, Delphine Galou covers a wide range of spiritual emotions. She is accompanied by the excellent Accademia Bizantina under its director and harpsichordist Ottavio Dantone. A concerto byGregori and a sinfonia by Caldara complete this release, which includes several world premiere recordings.
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REVIEW:
This is a treasure trove of rare music, and Galou is the perfect singer to introduce us to it, thanks to an agile and comfortable technique (hear the way she sails effortlessly through her full compass in a single phrase in the first aria of the Porpora). The orchestral playing is keen as mustard and filled with typically telling detail by director Ottavio Dantone. A lovely disc of discoveries.
– Gramophone
Wolf-Ferrari: 3 Violin Sonatas / Davide Alogna, Costantino Catena
With well-received albums of his piano trios, piano music and music for chamber orchestra, Brilliant Classics has expanded the horizons of many listeners to Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari (1876-1948). Previously known principally for his operatic and dramatic works such as I Gioelli della Madonna, Wolf-Ferrari built up a body of instrumental music that was played across Europe during his lifetime. Association with Mussolini’s Fascist regime cast a shadow over his postwar reputation and only in recent years have listeners been able to rediscover the music of an inveterate Romantic. The First Violin Sonata was written while the 19-year-old Wolf-Ferrari was still studying with Joseph Rheinberger in Munich. However, its long-breathed melodies and grasp of large-scale form bely its composer’s relative inexperience. All the same, the Brahmsian contours of the First Sonata are succeeded in the Second by a more personal idiom, one that more successfully integrates Wolf-Ferrari’s lifelong allegiances to both German and Italian schools of composition. Dating from 1901, it sings with a stern, almost austere passion rather in the manner of the composer’s Belgian contemporary Cesar Franck; the second of the sonata’s two movements has an especially sacred character and ends in a mood of serenity. The Third Sonata is a very late work, dating from 1943, while Wolf-Ferrari was giving concert tours through Axis countries. In parallel with the evolution of the trio of sonatas by Brahms, this E major work has a neoclassical character maintained throughout the suppressed passion of its four compact movements: there is even an excursion into strict counterpoint in the first movement’s development section, and the finale returns to the work’s opening theme, now touched by both irony and tenderness.
Cello Solo Journey / Luciano Tarantino
When the Catalan cellist Pablo Casals revived the solo suites of Bach in the first decades of the last century, he reminded both audiences and composers of the huge potential of his instrument to hold the stage in its own right, no less than a violin or a piano. Inspired by his charisma, and that of his successors such as Tortelier and Rostropovich, many modern composers have followed Bach’s example. The Italian cellist presents music by ten of them on this exciting debut album for Brilliant Classics. Tortelier and Rostropovich are represented by their own, little-known but highly imaginative works – a Circus Suite and an innocently titled but fearsomely challenging study respectively. Carter Brey, the principal cellist of the New York Philharmonic, has also written for the instrument with inside knowledge, in a tango of big, seductive gestures preceded on Tarantino’s album by Latin-themed showpieces from Albeniz, Piazzolla and Rogerio y Taguell. Each half of the album is brought to a reflective close with a soliloquy by the modern Italian composer Giovanni Sollima. The cello’s melancholy moods are further explored by Ilse de Ziah and Sebastian Diezig, but Tarantino has chosen and ordered his repertoire to display the cello’s expressive range to its fullest. Mixing familiar and little-known composers, it’s a perfect introduction to the ever-expanding universe of solo cello music beyond Bach. Born in 1977, Luciano Tarantino is a performer and teacher with his origins in Puglia, in the far south of Italy. He has played with many of today’s greatest conductors and founded a music festival in the region of his birth. On this recording he plays a fine 1736 cello by Antonio Testore.
Piatti: 12 Capricci for Cello Solo / Tarantino
Glass, Rutter, Francaix: Harpsichord Concertos / Christopher Lewis

What a great disc this is: three delightful contemporary works for harpsichord and orchestra, easy on the ear, but clever and consistently interesting. John Rutter’s Suite Antique might be English Poulenc. The tunes are captivating, and the “antique” element needs to be taken with a large grain of salt (the “waltz” is subtitled “A Jazz Waltz”). The writing for flute and strings is immaculate, graceful, and sounds like great fun to play, while the keyboard solo takes excellent advantage of the instrument’s sparkling timbres and ability to delineate rhythmic patterns with gentle persistence. The performance is also terrific, as fine as the composer’s own, with John McMurtery an excellent flute soloist with a firm, round tone.
Glass’ Harpsichord Concerto also has plenty of arresting harmonies and a wide range of textures. The outer movements chug along with unquenchable vitality, and even touches of humor in the finale, while the central slowish movement makes imaginative play with a variety of melodic shapes. It’s extremely visual: you can almost see the music as it unfolds. Glass takes full advantage of the harpsichord’s natural ability to act both as soloist and accompaniment, with the result that the music’s shifting layers consistently entertain through, and not despite, the usual abundance of repetition.
As for the Françaix, the Concerto begins with two contrasting toccatas, followed by a songful andantino, minuet, and finale. It’s a zesty romp that brings the disc to a wholly winning close. Christopher D. Lewis plays a bright, sweet-toned harpsichord with minimal mechanical clatter. His digital dexterity proves very satisfying, and he’s excellently balanced against the extremely capable West Side Chamber Orchestra under Kevin Mallon. This is one of those discs that you might overlook, but you’d be missing a real treat. I’ve already played it several times just for pleasure, and so will you.
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
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
Mercadante: Didone Abbandonata / Marchi, Academia Montis Regalis, Coro Maghini
Giuseppe Saverio Mercadante was a contemporary of Donizetti and Rossini, and his prolific output of operas proved influential in founding dramatic techniques that were taken on by Verdi. Set in the ancient and besieged city of Carthage, Didone abbandonata is the dramatic and tragic tale of ill-starred lovers whose decisions ultimately place an entire populace in peril. A genuine rarity in the theatre, Didone has strong ties to the 18th century but also points towards the bel canto innovations that were to come. This carefully researched and critically acclaimed production presents the work in the sound and playing style of Mercadante’s time.
Cesti: La Dori / Dantone, Accademia Bizantina [Blu-Ray]
Also available on standard DVD
Pietro Antonio Cesti was one of the most outstanding champions of 17th-century Venetian opera, and La Dori was both his greatest success and a major influence on the genre in the expressiveness of its arias and duets. The story is set in Babylon on the shores of the Euphrates, and is a convoluted and richly tragicomedic tale of lost lovers, disguises and mistaken identities filled with larger-than-life and colourfully costumed characters. This revival of a forgotten masterpiece was acclaimed as ‘a production of the highest level in every aspect’ (musicaculturaonline.it).
Cesti: La Dori / Dantone, Accademia Bizantina
Pietro Antonio Cesti was one of the most outstanding champions of 17th-century Venetian opera, and La Dori was both his greatest success and a major influence on the genre in the expressiveness of its arias and duets. The story is set in Babylon on the shores of the Euphrates, and is a convoluted and richly tragicomedic tale of lost lovers, disguises and mistaken identities filled with larger-than-life and colourfully costumed characters. This revival of a forgotten masterpiece was acclaimed as ‘a production of the highest level in every aspect’ (musicaculturaonline.it).
Tango Argentino / Trio Pantango
The tango originated circa 1890 in the harbor area of Buenos Aires where musicians performed “a la parrilla” (improvised). Now the tango is a nostalgic, exciting music that has developed into a sound and dance passionately reminiscent of Argentina. Guillermo Destaillats was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1970. At the age of sixteen he began to study music, starting off with piano at the Conservatorio Nacional. Although born in Buenos Aires, it was Germany that Guillermo heard tango for the first time in his life. It was the orchestra of Leopoldo Federico with Julio Sosa as a singer. He was eleven years old then, and it took eleven more years before he started learning the bandoneon, which he took up in 1992, studying with Enrique Fasuolo. In 1993, Guillermo formed Pantango together with Fernando Rubin Saglia. Saglia was born in Buenos Aires in 1968. He began studying music at the age of 20 at the Conservatorio Nacional and the Escuela de Musica Popular de Avellaneda. Michael Elvermann was born in Germany. He played clarinet in the local brass band, both self-taught and with some tuition. In 1983 he studied with Geza Komjathy at the music school in Dorsten. He joined Pantango in May 1993.
Saint-Saens, Wieniawski: Violin Concertos / Rachlin, Mehta
The Saint-Saëns comes first and has many delights to offer. The first movement has a splendidly passionate lyrical impulse and the Andantino is sheer delight: it has one of the composer's most delicious inspirations, a siciliano which is relished here by one and all (including us). Note Rachlin's gentle reprise of the lovely lyrical theme, surrounded by delicate touches of woodwind colour at 4'53" and again his re-presentation at 6'41", high up and exquisite. This is what fine fiddling is all about. But the performance reaches its peak in the splendid finale, the longest movement, which has wit and fire and a memorable chorale melody thrown in for good measure. It appears ethereally on the violins at 3'55" (Mehta and his orchestra wonderfully persuasive); then at 4'18" the soloist relishes its beauty. When the brass finally get their teeth into it (843") they let rip with real gusto, and then the soloist admonishes them with a gentle riposte which includes a disarming pianissimo echo. The sinuously flowing opening of the Wieniawski is beautifully and naturally moulded by the orchestra, with fine contributions from the principal oboe and solo horn, and when the soloist arrives the music's rhapsodic feeling continues most pleasingly. The second subject is beguiling enough when it first appears, but at its reprise (6'14") Rachlin's 50110 voce playing makes one's toes curl with pleasure. At 1135" the orchestra's principal clarinet shows what he is made of in the preparation for the glorious Andante, where the violin enters gently but with a simmering, sultry tone. The chimerical finale is full of joy and has the lightest touch from all concerned. I have played this record a lot and shall return to it with much pleasure. Not all music has to move mountains like Beethoven's Eroica.
-- Gramophone [12/1992]