Search results: Search results
47 results
Products
-
Fevrier: Pieces de Clavecin, 1re livre (Paris, 1734) & Secon
Brilliant Classics · Sep 2026CD$14.99 -
-
-
Aho: Concerto For Contrabassoon, Concerto For Tuba / Lipnick, Baadsvik, Litton, Rondin
BIS · Feb 2007CD$21.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Weinberg: Symphony No. 3; The Golden Key Suite No. 4 / Svedlund, Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra
Chandos · May 2011SACD$21.99
Fevrier: Pieces de Clavecin, 1re livre (Paris, 1734) & Secon
The 18th Century American Overture - Hewitt, Carr, Reinagle / Gallois
HEWITT Medley Overture. New Medley Overture. New Federal Overture. CARR Federal Overture. REINAGLE Miscellaneous Overture. Occasional Overture . Overture in G • Patrick Gallois, cond; Jyväskylä Snf Finlandia • NAXOS 8.559654 (68: 25)
Most readers will never have heard of these composers. In fact, I rather suspect that most collectors attracted to this release, The 18th-Century American Overture , will be so more out of historical curiosity than out of any prior knowledge of the music itself. Benjamin Carr (1768–1831) and James Hewitt (1770–1827) were both English-born and educated. Carr, who studied organ with Charles Wesley and composition with Samuel Arnold, the first great cataloger and editor of Handel’s music, was a prolific publisher, a driving force in the development of a music establishment in Philadelphia, and one of the founders of the Musical Fund Society. Hewitt, who made the questionable claim that he had played violin in London under the direction of Haydn, was similarly engaged in New York, where he bought an earlier publishing concern from Carr, and later in Boston, where he was a conductor, arranger, publisher, and of course composer. Scots-born Alexander Reinagle was a contemporary of Carr in Philadelphia, where he established a concert series and was involved in the theatrical life of the city. He was a favorite composer of George Washington, who not only attended many of Reinagle’s concerts, but arranged for Reinagle to give piano lessons to his adopted daughter, Nelly Custis.
I mention the credentials of the three composers, as one would otherwise never attribute these works to musicians of any serious standing. Of course, when listening to the initial track, the Hewitt Medley Overture , one may well assume that a disc of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 had been substituted. But wait a bit, for soon after follow quotes of reels, marches, and patriotic songs like Yankee Doodle . In many of these, transitions are minimal, and there is little or no attempt to create a coherent flow. Tunes are occasionally cut off in mid-phrase to make way for the next, and the sublime and the trivial reside incongruously together. These then are pops concert entertainments of their day, compendiums of common tunes that would be recognized by the audience, packaged occasionally with the latest works from Europe. (The Mozart piano concerto premiered but 13 years before its appropriation here.) Some, like Carr’s Federal Overture , have a political purpose, with La Marseillaise running roughshod over some English tunes, followed by Oh Dear, What Can the Matter Be? and Philip Phile’s Presidential March , now better known as The Itsy-Bitsy Spider . The intent would not have been lost on his audience in 1794. Others by Reinagle, the pragmatic man of the theater, lack pretensions musical or political, and are full of lively dance tunes.
Each of them, whatever the musical merit, gives insight into the culture of the new republic. These seven overtures are all that remain of many such works produced in America in the last two decades of the 18th century, and these have only survived in published piano reductions, or string parts without wind parts or score. The reconstructions were done by musicologist Bertil van Boer, professor of music history and theory at Western Washington University in Bellingham. He explains the historical background, and the detective work done in preparing the reconstruction, in his amusing and informative insert notes. Van Boer’s specialty is Scandinavian music of the 18th century, which explains, perhaps, the provenance of the recording. The Jyväskylä Sinfonia Finlandia is not an ensemble whose work often finds its way to these shores. Fanfare critics have reviewed only two releases: a disc of works by Rautavaara and another of Finnish tangos. That is about as broad a range as any ensemble I know. Now add obscure American popular potpourris to the mix. Who does their programming?
Whatever the story behind the recordings, kudos to van Boer, conductor Patrick Gallois, and the adaptable musicians of the orchestra for rescuing these curiosities and bringing them to our attention. The execution is polished and enthusiastic. The engineering is top-drawer. No one will mistake anything other than the Mozart quotes for great music, but the overtures are amusing, and this release adds an important tile to the mosaic of American music.
FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames
------------
This is another issue in the Naxos “American Classics” series. Even if you are doubtful about the relevance of the word “Classics” these Overtures most certainly are, and go out of their way to be, American. Each is in the form of a “Medley Overture”, a collection of popular tunes linked together with greater or lesser skill. Although this device originated in London the examples here are all intended to further particular political views at a time of intense debate in America between Federalists and Republicans. All of this is explained in the fascinating leaflet notes by Bertil van Boer who has also reconstructed these works, in some cases from limited evidence.
The tunes included in these Overtures almost invariably include “Yankee Doodle” and a large helping of Scottish and Irish tunes, presumably appealing especially to those coming from those countries. Other tunes used include the “Marseillaise”, William Shield’s “The Ploughboy”, “Oh dear, what can the matter be”, and, most surprising of all, the opening tutti from Mozart’s Piano Concerto No 20 in D minor. The results are clearly of considerable historical interest even if musically to describe them even as second rate might seem an exaggeration of their qualities. However unless you insist on nothing but the best, as did a relation of mine whose entire reading of fiction consisted of “Ulysses” and “War and Peace”, there is much to enjoy here. This is due more than a little to the sprightly performances and clear recording but I think is primarily due to the very appealing self-confidence and ingenuous swagger of the music itself. Despite the political messages that their music is apparently intended to send, the three composers represented here were all British in origin – Reinagle from Scotland and Carr and Hewitt from England. These Overtures have much in common with the music of such composers as Michael Kelly, Charles Dibdin and Steven Storace. Hewitt is best known for a wonderfully naïve Sonata describing the Battle of Trenton, and the works by him on this disc are little more advanced musically. However like all the rest they have charm and curiosity value in abundance. Maybe it is overstating the case to describe them as “American Classics” but this is certainly a disc that I find almost always generates a contented smile in this listener at least.
-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International
Herbert Howells: Partsongs
Aho: Concerto For Contrabassoon, Concerto For Tuba / Lipnick, Baadsvik, Litton, Rondin
One aspect of the tuba concerto is, in general, a tendency to brevity when it comes to their composition. This may have something to do with sympathy for the soloist, who might be expected to stagger from the stage, barely having survived such a heavy blow – another reason being the difficulty in creating a sustained serious work for something which is often perceived as a ‘comedy’ instrument. Kalevi Aho’s approach involved close collaboration with a seasoned professional, and the work actually begins and ends on notes chosen by Harri Lidsle, tuba player with the Lahti Symphony Orchestra. In his own notes, Aho reminds us that “by nature, the tuba is a very songful instrument”, and indeed there are many highly lyrical lines, themes and passages which explore the expressive upper ranges of the instrument. The instrument’s surprising agility is also given free rein, and sensitive orchestration means that the low tessitura and resulting limitations of the instrument’s projection through heavy textures are avoided. This is not to say that the orchestra is in any way restricted either. The tidal waves of sound in the final movement, with brass, strings and a battery of percussion in full flow are truly symphonic in character, fulfilling the promise of a grand scale which can be assumed from the half-hour timing of this work.
Most of the writing for the soloist is conventional, but as the third and final movement draws to a close, the player sings at the same time as playing, as well as grunting and snorting like some kind of strange animal – combining with the orchestra to magical effect. With the lyrical writing of the second movement’s cadenza the tuba actually sounds like a smaller instrument on occasion, but far from being the slower middle movement one might expect, the second begins with high, almost cinematic drama. Øystein Baadsvik’s playing is truly excellent, employing subtle vibrato here and there, tonsil rattling low notes and stunning technique when it comes to articulation. The combination of powerful orchestral writing and genuine musicianship from all concerned is an unbeatable one, and this work deserves to be taken up globally.
The contrabassoon is an altogether different, and to my ears more uncontrollable beast than the tuba. Lewis Lipnick writes his own note for the piece, having commissioned it, and subsequently confronted with “the most challenging work ever written for the contrabassoon.” Aho’s concerto in fact took the instrument a whole octave above its recognised range, and it was the designs and construction of an acoustically superior instrument “by luck or fate” in the U.S. which ultimately made the work playable. The recording here is made up from two live performances with the Bergen Phil. conducted by Andrew Litton, and the performance certainly has plenty of concert-hall vibrancy although I detected no audience noise at all.
The composer’s notes tell us that the first ever contrabassoon concerto was also written for Lewis Lipnick in 1978, the composer in this case being Gunther Schuller. Other examples are virtually non-existent however, and Aho again consulted extensively with specialists before writing this incredible work. Like the tuba, and in fact many other ostensibly subterranean instruments, the contrabassoon can have a very cantabile character, and while the whole range of the instrument is explored, its lyrical nature comes through remarkably well. Again, imaginative orchestration is very much part of Aho’s successful negotiation with his unusual solo instrument, and trios with the contrabassoon, heckelphone and alto saxophone provide some of the more intriguing moments.
The Contrabassoon Concerto is, in the composer’s own words, “the most monumental of my instrumental concertos – in essence [ ] almost a symphony for contrabassoon and orchestra.” I do note however, that one of the aspects both of these works share is that neither out-stays their welcome, and neither really gives the impression of being ‘long’. Both kept me on the edge of my seat, and Lipnick’s playing is an inspiration. Aho’s musical voice is highly individual, but if you want some references, then one or two woodwind passages reminded me of a wild kind of Nielsen, you might get a whiff of Shostakovich here and there, the occasional Sibelian inflection in the richness of the orchestration. Aho’s symphonic work is recognised as having a kind of Mahlerian power, and on the strength of the Contrabassoon Concerto I can well believe it: the opening six minutes or so of the work is like entering some kind of breathtaking temple or vast undiscovered inner space, and the climax of the final movement from about 5:00, even including the dropping of heavy chains; is something which may do damage to your dentures, such is the jaw-clenching tension which develops.
The recordings are superb, and well up to BIS’s own high standards. Collectors of this label’s ongoing range of releases by this composer will already have this disc on their wish-list, and will most certainly not be disappointed. Former non-initiates like me will have had an entirely new world opened for them, which, for the price of a CD, has to be something of a bargain.
-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International
The Singing Guitar / Craig Hella Johnson, Conspirare
A 2021 GRAMMY Nominee for Best Choral Performance!
The wonderful Conspirare chamber choir, known for its interpretive depth and other-worldly sonic lushness, offers another of its captivating programs — this time joined by three superb guitar quartets — in a program remarkably relevant for our time. The choir is joined by the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet, the Texas Guitar Quartet, the Austin Guitar Quartet, and cellist Douglas Harvey for this release featuring compositions by Reena Esmail, Craig Hella Johnson, Nico Muhly, and Kile Smith. Conspirare is a virtuoso choir. The Grammy-winning ensemble comprises distinctive solo artists who are also committed to the highest level of ensemble performance. These professional singers travel to Austin from around the country to perform together, providing their audiences with a rare level of choral music making.
REVIEW:
Conspirare’s new recording featuring the Austin-based choral group and three guitar quartets bookends impressive large-scale works by Nico Muhly and Kile Smith with small jewels by Reena Esmail and founding conductor Craig Hella Johnson.
Smith’s The Dawn’s Early Light features only one guitar quartet but the most beautiful texts, from Sarah Winnemucca Hopkins’s 1883 autobiography, one of the earliest books by a Native American woman.
The participation of three guitar quartets from LA and Texas adds texture and warmth to Muhly’s How Little You Are, a thoughtful 40-minute meditation on the words of American pioneer women in the 19th century, its lovely solos sung by Estelí Gomez.
Esmail’s When the Guitar—inspired by a 14th-century Persian lyric, ‘When the guitar can forgive the past, it starts singing’—uses the intriguing sounds of the Los Angeles Guitar Quartet as one of the layers of a fabulous wrap for the chorus. Johnson’s serene The Song That I Came to Sing, which sets a Rabindranath Tagore poem for cello and treble voices, was composed as a framing piece for the program ‘which would reflect aspects of unfulfilled purpose and a longing for intimacy with the Divine’.
-- Gramophone
The Conspirare chamber choir, known for its interpretive depth and otherworldly sonic lushness, offers another of its captivating programs—this time joined by three superb guitar quartets—in a program remarkably relevant for our time. Conspirare’s debut album on Delos, The Hope of Loving, was nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Choral Performance in 2020. Here, the combination of guitar quartet and chorus is so successful that one wonders why more composers have not written for it. The works on this album were written by four of America’s greatest living composers: Nico Muhly, Reena Esmail, Kile Smith, and Craig Hella Johnson.
-- WFMT Chicago
Leach: Diary of the Bee - Chamber Works
Margola: Music for Mandolin & Other Chamber Music
An exact contemporary of Olivier Messiaen (1908-92), Franco Margola was a Brescian musician born and bred, growing up within the culture of the city’s historic industry of string-instrument making. He composed in all the major classical genres but his music has been little heard outside Italy: a situation which this engaging new collection of his chamber music should remedy. Though he composed operas and symphonies, Margola was most at home in the world of miniatures such as we find on this album. He had a ready fund of quirky, memorable melodies which spring from the neoclassical Italian idiom honed by composers of the 1920s and 30s such as Respighi and Casella. While still a student, he met Alfredo Casella, and showed him a recently composed song. Casella was impressed and asked for more, so Margola an instrumental trio which Casella proceeded to perform with his own ensemble throughout Italy and farther. These precociously mature student years are represented on this album by the Piccola Sonata for violin and piano, composed in 1929. There are three sections within its concise five-minute span, largely elegiac in character and flavored not only with late-Romantic harmonies but the unmistakable influence of Maurice Ravel. At the other end of his life, Margola began to write for mandolin as a professor at the conservatoire in Parma. He treats the instrument like a lute, as if transcribing Renaissance dances in the style of Respighi, but the harmonies remain richly Romantic. One particular highlight is the Romanza senza parole, a song without words with an airy theme that alternates between the piano and the mandolin in a lyrical mood that naturally brings Mendelssohn and the world of Lieder to mind. Made in the composer’s home city of Brescia, these recordings are led by the mandolin player Raffaelle lo Ragione, an experienced soloist in music of the Baroque and Romantic eras, with a previous Brilliant Classics album of neglected Neapolitan music to his credit, ‘Serenata Napoletana’.
REVIEW:
There is some wonderful music on this disc, especially the lovely Picccola Suonata, a work clearly wedded to the Romantic Era. Occasionally one can hear a harmonic reference that is a bit adventurous, but those moments are fleeting. This is music of great charm and eloquence, coupled with wonderful melodic invention. It is simple, without being simplistic. All of the performers on the disc serve the music well. Their performances are sympathetic and sincere in their expression. The recorded sound is very good.
– Fanfare
Arnesen: Infinity / Rinsema, Kantorei
None of this says anything about how “good” the music is; in fact, some listeners will likely find these pieces not challenging enough–a little too easy to listen to, a little too similar in style and mood. But I wouldn’t go that far. Arnesen builds his music on rich, lush harmonic structures–so yes, there are lots of chords, beautiful, flowing, often the foundation for melody (Flight Song), but sometimes the vibrant, resonating clusters of tones make their own powerful effect without need for a real tune–for example in O Sacrum Convivium, which will remind some listeners of the style of Morten Lauridsen.
Versions of the text in the opening work, lines discovered on a Nazi concentration camp wall (it begins, “I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining…”) have been set by many composers, and Arnesen’s proves as poignant as any, particularly as it focuses so pointedly on the few words–three short lines–capturing in varied musical repetitions the deeply felt, personal, truthful sentiment expressed by that anonymous author in that awful, desperate time and place. Arnesen’s melodic facility appears perhaps most strongly in his Flight Song, which he wrote for Anton Armstrong’s 25th year as St. Olaf Choir conductor–a lovely melody you might have heard someplace before, but not quite. Throughout the program you notice how Arnesen often manages to create engaging pieces of five, six, or seven minutes seemingly without a whole lot of material–again, somewhat in the mold of Lauridsen, but less prone to direct repetition, so the music is more open, more expansive–and we’re just carried along by the dynamic flow of harmony and the beauty of these voices. What finer advocates for his music could a composer have than these excellent singers of Kantorei?
And as for the music itself, I’ve said before: any competent composer can write really difficult music intended only for professional singers (not that there’s anything wrong with that); but it takes a special kind of composer–such as Arnesen–who understands the nature and complexities of choral composition and knows the nature and complexities of singers and singing–and is able to create music of high quality and sophistication that’s both satisfying and accessible to a vast community of accomplished yet non-professional musicians and legions of serious listeners, most of whom appreciate an occasional challenge but who also crave the pure pleasure of musical experience where voices simply soar and harmonies shimmer and there are no grimaces or gritted teeth or ruffled ears anywhere to be found. Yes, there are one or two pieces here that push the schmaltz level slightly past my limit–but even so, that’s a small price to pay for the hour of “pure pleasure” on the rest of the program.
– David Vernier (ClassicsToday)
Mahler: Das Lied Von Der Erde / Hans Graf, Houston Symphony
MAHLER Das Lied von der Erde • Hans Graf, cond; Jane Henschel (mez); Gregory Kunde (tenor); Houston SO • NAXOS 8.572498 (62:46) Live: Houston 11/19–22/2009
Just as I noted with some dismay the relative dearth of recordings of the original version of Das Lied for full orchestra ( Fanfare 35:4), this new CD arrives from Naxos. It’s also encouraging to see an American orchestra and its music director featured on a major label, since new recordings of orchestras in the U.S. increasingly originate from in-house labels like SFS Media and CSO Resound (though the lack of the former necessitated the latter).
Any performance of Das Lied lives or dies by its soloists, and taste in voices is a particularly individual foible. I’ve found that I have no tolerance for the type of ripe, chocolate-thick mezzo or contralto common to many recordings (and that, alas, includes such greats as Maureen Forrester and Kathleen Ferrier). Given those constraints, I find this performance to be one of the best I’ve heard.
Gregory Kunde is described in the bio included in the notes as a bel canto singer, but he proves more than adequate in the Heldentenor demands of “Der Trinklied” (hard to fake in a live concert recording). His sensitivity to the text, however, may be his strongest quality; the reiterations of “dunkel ist das Leben, ist der Tod” are each sung with a slight diminuendo and a touch of melancholy that are truly heartfelt. His lyrical side is heard to salubrious effect in “Von der Jugend,” while the two styles combine to make “Der Trunkene” a rousing, tipsy delight.
Jane Henschel, the voice of Maria Aegyptiaca for Eliahu Inbal, Simon Rattle, and Bertrand DeBilly in their respective recordings of Mahler’s Eighth, is a fine Mahler interpreter. Her performance of “Der Abschied” will stand up to most of the competition, but I am also taken with her handling of the fast section describing the handsome youths in “Von der Schönheit”: In a manner approaching Sprechstimme , she navigates the treacherous waters with aplomb, then immediately regains the more stately composure of the rest of the narrative. In “Der Einsame” she combines melancholy and resignation with quiet effectiveness.
Hans Graf accompanies with sensitivity and well-gauged tempos that neither drag nor rush; he allows Henschel the breathing room in “Von der Schönheit” while charging “Der Trinklied” with the kind of momentum needed to convey the angst of the narrator. The Houston Symphony plays as to the manner born. I haven’t heard too much Mahler from this source, but on the strength of this recording, I’d like to hear more. The sound production is another sterling effort by Michael Fine, placing the soloists front and center without undue spotlighting, and revealing plenty of inner voice detailing from the orchestra. Altogether, this is a real bargain at reduced price (texts and translation are available on the Naxos website). Highly recommended.
FANFARE: Christopher Abbot
-------
Time was when Naxos recordings of core repertoire would be considered cheap and cheerful, but hardly designed to compete with the best in the catalogue. That has long since changed, with a growing number of discs that, while still sold at the super-budget price point, are every bit as desirable as established or more expensive performances. Certainly, Antoni Wit’s Mahler Eight must be at or near the top of the list of recommendations for that work, proof that great Mahler recordings don’t all emanate from Vienna, Berlin or Lucerne.
The Houston Symphony Orchestra and their Linz-born music director Hans Graf are both unfamiliar to me, as are the soloists, but as I’ve already hinted that’s hardly an issue where this label is concerned. Indeed, listening to a number of more illustrious recordings in preparation for this review I was reminded of just how difficult it is to alight on an ideal – or near ideal – version of this elusive score. Either the mezzo isn’t up to the sustained demands of that long goodbye or the tenor is overstretched by Mahler’s taxing tessitura; and even if the soloists are up to snuff, the articulation and pacing of the music itself may be problematic. And then there’s the recording quality which, while not the key issue, plays an important part in one’s perception of – and response to - this multi-hued score.
Of my selected comparisons two – Raymond Leppard on BBC Radio Classics 9120 and Bernard Haitink on Philips 468 182-2 – feature the limpid tones of Dame Janet Baker. The clarity and directness of her vocal style is always pleasing, and while I don’t share Tony Duggan’s out-and-out enthusiasm for Baker/Leppard and the Alfreda Hodgson/Jascha Horenstein version on BBC Legends 4042-2, I like them rather more than my colleague Marc Bridle does. In particular, Baker’s Der Abschied with Leppard – recorded at Manchester’s Free Trade Hall in 1977 – has a high goose-bump count, and while she sings with characteristic commitment for Haitink she lacks the intensity of feeling that makes the Leppard disc so memorable.
Kathleen Ferrier for Bruno Walter (Decca 466 576-2) and Christa Ludwig for Otto Klemperer (EMI 5 66892 2) are her main rivals, although Ferrier’s artless, somewhat old-fashioned, delivery doesn’t appeal to me. Heresy, I know, but I’ve often wondered whether Walter’s link to Mahler and Ferrier’s early death have given this recording a lustre it doesn’t always deserve. And among more recent recordings Cornelia Kallisch sounds warm but all-too-often uninvolved on Michael Gielen’s otherwise admirable version (Hänssler 93.269). Of the men, John Mitchinson – for Horenstein and Leppard – struggles with Mahler’s near-falsetto writing, while Haitink’s James King – placed quite far back - is rather more secure, if a little too generalised for my tastes. Walter’s tenor, Julius Patzak, is full-bodied but a trifle staid, heldentenor Siegfried Jerusalem and the agile Fritz Wunderlich – for Gielen and Klemperer respectively – both fresh and virile.
How does the Houston recording fare in this mixed company? In Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde Gregory Kunde sounds pleasing enough, although his voice is less appealing under pressure; at first I felt the orchestra was rather backwardly balanced, but it suits the intimate scale of this performance. The real revelation, though, is Graf, whose reading of the score is very impressive indeed, becoming more insightful as the piece unfolds. He can’t quite match Klemperer for sheer amplitude and nuance, but he does find an astonishing lucidity that works especially well in the trembling loveliness of ‘Der Einsame im Herbst’.
In that song mezzo Jane Henschel sings most hauntingly of the loneliness and the transience of life, her delivery discreet but always subtly inflected. In many ways she is the antithesis of Baker, who sometimes strives a little too hard for effect, notably in her recording for Haitink. And while Henschel doesn’t efface memories of Ludwig here, I was captivated by her glowing, unforced response to Bethge’s texts, notably Von der Schönheit. I particularly liked her honeyed lower registers, but again it’s Graf’s lightness of touch and natural rhythms that beguile the mind and ear.
Kunde may be overstretched as the drunkard but his delivery has a youthful charm that’s entirely apt; that said, Jerusalem and Wunderlich negotiate those treacherous vocal lines with aplomb, their innig moments more finely calibrated. In terms of sonics the Naxos disc may not be as weighty or tactile as Gielen’s, or as atmospheric as Leppard’s, but at least it isn’t as rough and ready as Horenstein’s. As for the much-lauded Philips sound for Haitink, it isn’t nearly as refulgent as I remember it. The EMI recording for Klemperer is big and bold and, in its GROC version at least, hardly shows its age at all.
And despite initial caveats about the Naxos soundstage I have to say the convulsive gong shudder at the start of Der Abschied is just electrifying, ushering in half-an-hour of sublime music and even more sublime singing. For me, Ludwig is sans pareil here, a perfect match for Klemperer’s stoicism, but I can assure you Henschel is just as commanding of mood and line. This is an abendrot like no other, the trembling air suffused with the scents of loveliness and decay. The Houstonians really do capture the evanescence of this music very well indeed; as for Graf, he maintains a sensible and steady pulse throughout, achieving a rare blend of poise and penetration as well. Thankfully the audience is very quiet, and there’s no applause at the end to break this deep, deep spell.
Is there an ideal recording of Das Lied von der Erde? Probably not, but as the talents of this newcomer are so prodigious and its faults so minor I’d say this one comes pretty close.
-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International
Lorraine at Emmanuel / Lieberson
As it happens, this release serves as tribute not only to Hunt Lieberson, who died in 2006, but also to her frequent close collaborator Craig Smith, the founder of Emmanuel Music, who died in November. And the material is choice: spacious arias from two Bach cantatas and extended excerpts from Handel’s oratorio “Hercules.”
The disc begins with a 1992 recording of the aria “Kommt ihr angefochtnen Sünder” from Bach’s Cantata No. 30: Something of a tease as the opening instrumental passage heightens the anticipation of Hunt Lieberson’s entrance, more than two minutes into the disc. But that glorious Voice, when it appears, meets every expectation.
The “Hercules” excerpts, from 1999, trace the travails of the hero’s wife, Dejanira, culminating in a harrowing mad scene.... Although Hunt Lieberson’s compelling stage presence added mightily to any performance, the voice alone amply conveys her characteristic intensity here....
Dare we hope for more?"
– James R. Oestreich, New York Times [8/10/2008]
The early death of Lorraine Hunt Lieberson deprived the world of an exceptional artist and one, moreover, who left all too few commercial recordings. However, some archive recordings are now beginning to emerge and this new release, featuring previously unissued live recordings is one such. The CD also forms a tribute to one of her mentors, Craig Smith, Music Director at Emmanuel Church, Boston from 1970 until his death in November 2007 at the age of sixty.
Smith founded Emmanuel Music, which, besides fulfilling a liturgical function at the church, evolved also into a concert ensemble of no little distinction. Perhaps Smith’s greatest achievement was to inaugurate the practice whereby each Sunday between October and April, the main Sunday morning church service includes a cantata by Bach appropriate to the day. That tradition continues to this day and later this year the thirty-ninth consecutive season of liturgical cantatas will commence.
It was through Emmanuel Music that the then Lorraine Hunt took some of the first steps on her solo singing career and she maintained the connection, I believe, for the rest of her life, including appearances in the Sunday cantata series. This disc, therefore, takes us back to her singing roots.
The disc begins and ends with arias taken, I presume, from complete Sunday service performances of Bach cantatas. The aria "Kommt ihr angefochtnen Sünder" comes from the cantata Freue dich, erlöste schar, written for the feast of St. John the Baptist. Alfred Dürr writes thus of the cantata: "The underlying mood is joyful, relaxed and unproblematical, not only in the opening chorus but in the four arias, where a dance-like style is often clearly evident." Unfortunately, to judge by this aria at least, Craig Smith seems to have a different conception. Presumably with the agreement of his soloist, he sets and extremely slow tempo and the aria lasts 8:46.
This sent me scurrying to my shelves for comparisons. John Eliot Gardiner, in his Bach Cantata Pilgrimage performance takes a mere 5:27 but he is surely too fleet – at his pace the aria sounds like a gambol through the Elysian meadows. So that might seem to suggest that Smith is "simply" old fashioned in his conception. But turn to Fritz Werner’s 1971 performance and you find a tempo that seems to me to be just right – he takes 6:03. Beside Werner I’m afraid Smith sounds laboured. What saves the performance is the sheer beauty and inwardness of Lorraine Hunt Lieberson’s singing. On its own terms the performance is quite lovely and no admirer of the singer will be disappointed but I just think the basic conception is wrong.
Things are much more satisfactory in the other Bach aria, which is placed at the opposite end of the programme. This aria is from the cantata Allein zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, which is for the Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity. Again, Miss Hunt Lieberson’s singing is beautiful and communicative and this time the pace is much more sensible, I think. The conductor here is the composer, John Harbison, who has also had a long association with Emmanuel Music and who, in fact, is currently the Acting Artistic Director. He adopts a slow pace, but this aria can take it. Again comparisons were instructive. Eliot Gardiner’s tempo is almost identical and he takes exactly as long as does Harbison. Werner didn’t record this cantata but another celebrated Bach traditionalist, Karl Richter, did. In his 1976/7 recording he takes 9:34 but his soloist, Julia Hamari, sounds cool besides either of her rivals and she and Richter, whose direction is smooth and relaxed, convey no real sense of trepidation. Nathalie Stutzmann, for Eliot Gardiner, is perhaps a touch more inward than Hunt Lieberson but she’s equally involving and it’s only by the merest whisker that I come down in favour of this present, excellent performance.
The remainder of the disc is devoted to excerpts from Handel’s oratorio, Hercules and these excerpts contain all the music for Dejanira, the wife of the eponymous hero. I presume, though it’s not clear from the documentation, that these extracts are taken from a live account of the complete work.
The role of Dejanira is an exceptionally demanding one, both vocally and emotionally. She is, in Craig Smith’s words, a "monumental character." I can well imagine that Lorraine Hunt Lieberson was a pretty formidable presence in the performance of the oratorio for these extracts show us a vivid character portrayal.
In her first aria, "The world when day’s career is run," she is fully the grief-stricken wife, yet she still retains dignity. Much of Dejanira’s music is in moderate or slow tempo but when swifter music arrives, in "Begone, my fears, fly, hence, away," Miss Hunt Lieberson excels in the passagework.
As her jealousy of the captive princess, Iole, begins to take hold and her certainty that Hercules has been unfaithful increases there’s great sadness in the aria ‘When beauty sorrow’s liv’ry wears’ and that is splendidly conveyed here. Particularly outstanding is the account of "Cease, ruler of the day, to rise," where the singing is particularly expressive. Writing of this disc elsewhere, but of another aria in the programme, the critic Michael Kennedy spoke of Miss Hunt Lieberson’s "power to humanise every note and bring the music to new life." How I agree and I’d say that this comment applies even more strongly to this deep aria.
The final excerpt is the Mad Scene. Here Miss Hunt Lieberson is intensely dramatic without ever going overboard. This is extremely demanding music and she performs it vividly and, once again, when the divisions arise she displays fine vocal agility. Hers is a tremendous performance of this recitative and aria and, unsurprisingly, it sparks an ovation from the audience who, otherwise, are commendably silent throughout.
These extracts contain some superb Handel singing. Frequently I was reminded of Dame Janet Baker’s assumption of Handelian roles and I can pay no higher compliment than that.
Despite my reservation over the one Bach item – a reservation that does not concern the singing per se – this is a superb disc that all admirers of this much-missed singer will want to have. And if you’ve not heard Lorraine Hunt Lieberson before, buy this disc and discover for yourself what all the fuss is about.
– John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Baroque Christmas In Hamburg / Cordes, Bremer Barock Consort
With this disc Manfred Cordes once again sheds light on the rich musical culture of 17th-century Hamburg. He usually does so with his own ensemble, Weser-Renaissance. This time he directs the Bremer Barock Consort, a group of students from the early music department of the Hochschule für Künste in Bremen. It consists here of five sopranos, two altos, two tenors and two basses, two violins, three viole da gamba, two players of cornett and recorder, two sackbuts, dulcian, chitarrone and organ as well as two organists who play the solo items.
These forces are used in various combinations for a programme which gives a good idea of the variety of the 17th century repertoire written for the churches in Hamburg. It varies from a small-scale piece for three solo voices, two violins and bc, like Christoph Bernhard's Ach, mein herzliebes Jesulein, to large-scale works in polychoral style such as Hieronymus Praetorius's Angelus ad pastores ait. In his liner-notes Manfred Cordes gives this description of music in Hamburg: "The motet traditions of the late sixteenth century were still alive and mixed with the influences of the Venetian polychorality, with the coloration techniques also reaching the North somewhat belatedly from Italy, and above all with the new concertizing style over the thorough bass with its intensified expressive possibilities." The programme on this disc bears witness to this description.
The first item is written in the Venetian polychoral style, although the composer, Hieronymus Praetorius, has never been in Italy himself. He uses a traditional text, Angelus ad pastores ait, to which fragments from a traditional German hymn are added, 'Puer natus in Bethlehem (Ein Kind geborn zu Bethlehem)'. The next piece is a Magnificat for eight voices in two choirs. It is an alternatim setting: the odd verses are in plainchant. But Praetorius also interpolated Christmas hymns, just like Johann Sebastian Bach did much later in the E flat version of his Magnificat. Here two hymns are included: 'Joseph, lieber Joseph mein' and 'In dulci jubilo', one of the most famous Christmas songs of all time.
In his liner-notes Manfred Cordes refers to the still living tradition of the 16th century. Motets by masters of the polyphony were still held in high regard in Germany in the 17th century, and were often intavolated for organ. Thomas Selle's sacred concerto Videntes stellam magi is also based on a 16th-century piece, a motet with the same title by Orlandus Lassus. Liturgically this piece is for Epiphany as it is about the magi travelling to Bethlehem to pay honour to the new-born king.
The dialogue is a typical 17th-century format. The purest form can be found here in Gegrüßest seist du, Holdselige by Matthias Weckmann, in which the angel announces Jesus' birth to Mary. The angel is sung by a tenor, supported by strings, whereas the role of Mary is sung by a soprano with two recorders. In his concerto Joseph! Was da? Thomas Selle follows this pattern less strictly. Soprano, tenor and bass perform in various combinations. The rhythm of the piece gives it a pastoral character, in particular at the phrase "now help me cradle a dear little child".
Hymns play an important role in the sacred repertoire in 17th-century Hamburg. Johann Philipp Förtsch composed a sacred concerto on the hymn Gelobet seist du, Jesu Christ. The seven stanzas are treated in various ways. The first is for a soprano, singing the unornamented chorale melody over abundantly ornamented string parts. In the next stanzas soprano, alto, tenor and bass sing in various combinations, mostly on original musical material, but with quotations from the chorale melody. The words "Jammertal" (vale of tears) and "kommen arm" (came in poverty) are singled out.
Christoph Bernhard was an important composer who started his career as a pupil of Heinrich Schütz in Leipzig, to which he returned later on. His output is still hardly explored; the two pieces on this disc show his qualities and his versatility. Ach, mein herzliebes Jesulein is an intimate piece: "Oh, my dear little Jesus, choose a pure soft bed for yourself my resting in this my heart's shrine, that I may never forget you". This intimacy doesn't hold the composer back from writing virtuosic ornaments in the solo parts, in particular of the two sopranos. The disc ends with his concerto Herr, nun lässest du deinen Diener, a large-scale piece for ten voices on the Canticum Simeonis, here in a German rhymed version. It begins with a sinfonia for strings on the funeral anthem 'Mit Fried und Freud'. The first line is performed tutti, then follows a virtuosic duet for two sopranos, a more restrained duet of alto and tenor and lastly a solo for bass. The piece ends with a repeat of the first vocal section. Manfred Cordes follows the composer's suggestion to use a second choir here.
A disc like this should also include some organ pieces. Organists were highly regarded in Germany in the 17th century, and Hamburg had some of the very best within its walls. Most of them were pupils of Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck in Amsterdam, who was nicknamed the 'German organist builder'. Jacob Praetorius, son of Hieronymus, was one of them, and in his capacity as organist of St. Petri a key figure in Hamburg. He is represented with a free organ work, the Praeambulum in d minor. This prelude is a short brilliant piece which reflects the great skills of the composer. He was the teacher of Matthias Weckmann whose Toccata vel Praeludium 1. toni is included. With Heinrich Scheidemann we meet another Sweelinck pupil. For a long time he was organist of St. Katharinen. We know his music only from sacred songs and organ works. Here three verses from his chorale fantasia Vom Himmel hoch are played. The inclusion of Samuel Scheidt in the programme is a bit odd, as he never worked in Hamburg. It is justified by Manfred Cordes with the fact that he was also a pupil of Sweelinck. The three verses from his chorale fantasia Gelobet seist du, Jesu Christ are played here as a kind of introduction to the concerto by Förtsch on the same chorale melody.
In the 17th century the basso continuo part in sacred music was usually played at the large organ rather than at a small positive. This practice is hard to follow in our time, as there are not that many organs with the right disposition and tuning, and also with enough space in the loft. After a long search a suitable church and organ were found: the St. Marien & St. Pankratius in Mariendrebber, with an organ which was built by Berend Hus - the mentor of Arp Schnitger - in 1658/59. Although it has been modified during its history the most important stops are still in their original condition. It is in 1/5 comma temperament which is appropriate for the earlier pieces in the programme. For Bernhard and Weckmann a positive was used.
The Bremer Barock Consort may consist of music students but they produce a very fine and technically impressive recording of this compelling programme of Christmas music. The ensemble is very good, and the various voices are generally excellent. Only now and then is it noticeable that these are young singers whose voices have yet to mature. Sometimes they could have gone further in exploring the expression of the texts but on the whole I am very pleased by what is offered here. The pitch of the organ is not mentioned in the booklet, but I assume it is the high organ pitch which was common in Germany in the 17th century. As a result some treble parts are very high, and the sopranos deal with them convincingly.
The booklet contains a number of errors. In the tracklist the organ piece by Weckmann is attributed to Christoph Bernhard, who never wrote any organ piece. The lyrics contain various mistakes and have the wrong track numbers from track 8 onwards.
Still, from every musical angle this is a very good production, and a great addition to any collection of Christmas discs.
-- Johan van Veen, MusicWeb International
Mendelssohn-Hensel: Piano Sonatas / Heather Schmidt
Heather Schmidt's Mendelssohn-Hensel recital presents a well-contrasted selection of works in large and small forms. My Schumann comment applies to the swirling and intense C minor Allegro molto that opens this disc. If Brahms had rewritten a Felix Mendelssohn Song Without Words in the manner of his own late-period Klavierstücke, he'd come up with Fanny's G minor Notturno, while the D minor Allegro molto agitato's Bachian demeanor and gothic octaves (effortlessly executed by Schmidt, incidentally) suggest Busoni in embryonic form.
The three-movement C minor sonata oozes melodic inspiration in every bar, especially in the slow movement's moving introspection and modulations that give Schubert a run for his money. Although Schmidt plays this movement as a true Andante con moto and with little rubato, would a slower, freer approach make a stronger expressive impact? On the other hand, she fully comprehends the four-movement G minor sonata's inherent power and passion, and delivers more dynamically charged renditions of the Allegro molto agitato and Adagio movements than the equally fluid yet more restrained Beatrice Rauchs on BIS.
Schmidt matches Rauchs' delicacy in the gorgeous Scherzo at nearly twice the basic tempo--a good call. However, Rauchs' supple, forward-moving Presto finale scores over Schmidt's slower, slightly square-toed approach. All told, this is a valuable addition to the Mendelssohn-Hensel piano discography.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com
----------------------------------------
MENDELSSOHN-HENSEL Piano Sonatas: in c; in g. Allegro molto in c; Notturno in g; Lied in E?; Adagio in E?; Andante con moto in E; Sonata o Capriccio; Allegro molto agitato in d; Schluss • Heather Schmidt (pn) • NAXOS 8.570825 (67:25)
Fanny Mendelssohn-Hensel composed some 500 works, mostly piano miniatures and songs. She wrote one orchestral overture, a few larger-scale choral works, and a handful of chamber compositions, her masterpiece being the lovely Piano Trio in D Minor, op. 11, which deserves to be a repertoire staple. Most of her output remains unpublished—her op. 1 appeared in print only in 1846, just a year before her untimely death—which, on the evidence presented here, is a great shame. True, her works are not on the same compositional plane as those of her renowned brother Felix, being rather foursquare in formal design; but then the social circumstances of her time did not allow her to cultivate her muse to the same degree. For her, music had to remain an avocation, subordinated to what her father wrote to her in 1828, a year before her marriage: “your real calling, the only calling of a young woman—I mean the state of a housewife.”
This disc presents works falling into two distinct periods. The juvenile pieces from 1823–24 are the C-Minor Sonata, Sonata o Capriccio, Allegro molto agitato , and Schluss ; the remainder, from her maturity, were composed between 1838 and 1846. Stylistically, they resemble those of her sibling so closely that he even published a few of her pieces under his name. For example, the Allegro molto in C Minor, the Allegro molto agitato in D Minor, and the finale of the C-Minor Sonata all immediately recall the volatile opening Allegro of Felix’s Piano Concerto No. 1. That said, she was no mere imitator; these are solidly crafted compositions with their own voice, particularly in their gift of winning melody. In general, Fanny uses a longer, more continuously flowing melodic line, and is more overtly emotional, more given to passionate outburst, more inclined to explore introspection and melancholy. The weaknesses are overly regular metrical phrasing, over-reliance on alternating runs of triplets and of eighth (or 16th) notes for contrast, and unadventurous harmonic progressions. Although the turbulent G-Minor Sonata is the major work here, the Adagio and the Andante con moto , both in E?, deserve special mention as particularly lovely brief essays.
This is the only available recording of the C-Minor Sonata and some (not all) of the shorter pieces. Peter J. Rabinowitz ( Fanfare 21:4) highly praised the BIS issue of the G-Minor Sonata and accompanying miniatures with Béatrice Rauchs, while noting that “she sometimes plays down the music’s dramatic and expressive potential.” The identical observation applies here. Heather Schmidt is a thoroughly accomplished pianist, who plays with lovely tone, fluent technique (an absolutely pearling legato), and expressive insight and sensitivity. My only reservation is that—dare I say it?—the playing is a bit too feminine; even more could be gotten out of these pieces with the occasional application of a more masculine assertiveness in accent and phrasing, a willingness to punctuate the seamless flow and delicacy with something a bit more rough-hewn. But that is a very minor caveat; this music and this performance, at half the cost of the BIS issue, both deserve to reach a much wider audience. The recorded sound is clear, warm, but not too resonant. Recommended to all lovers of early-Romantic piano repertoire.
FANFARE: James A. Altena
Humperdinck: Music for the Stage / Salvi, Malmo Opera Orchestra
-----
REVIEWS:
These incidental scores are a real find. They show that Humperdinck was far more than a one work wonder and is surely overlooked among the large number of turn-of-the-century composers who were able to turn out such highly melodic scores. The one real rarity here is the suite arranged from Das Wunder – the first full-colour silent film, made in 1912.
– Lark Reviews
Think of Humperdinck and Hänsel und Gretel immediately springs to mind, and if you dig a little bit deeper, Königskinder. Of course, he was far more prolific than that, and clearly had a rare talent for melody, vocal setting and orchestration. He is regarded as being a disciple of Wagner rather than a composer who forged a unique path, although I was interested to discover that he was the first composer to use Sprechgesang - a vocal technique halfway between singing and speaking, in Königskinder.
This most welcome, well-filled CD gives us a broad cross-section of his music for the stage. It starts with the prelude to Act II of the unknown opera Die Heirat wider Willen (The Forced Marriage), which opens with huge Wagnerian chords leading to more complex passages which quieten to harp chords then return to the opening. It is highly effective, and is probably the most instantly impactive music on the disc.
It is followed by his incidental music to the play Der Kaufman von Venedig (The Merchant of Venice). There are seven sections, the longest being the accompaniment to Act V Scene 1, “The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees”.
At over ten minutes, it is as long as the previous six episodes put together, and, perhaps unsurprisingly given the word painting to inspire him, Humperdinck produces some magical orchestral effects, employing the harp lavishly to illustrate the moon (with a gentle horn accompanying the harp); the same combination is used at the outset, as the lovers begin their conversation. It is the sort of luscious orchestral sound which lulls one into floating along with it. There are vocal parts in the earlier sections, nicely sung by the tenor, soprano and contralto. The next longest scene at just under four minutes is the masked procession. Once again, the composer uses the harp quite prominently when the music quietens. As with all such incidental music, very short sections (three of the seven are each under one minute) can lead to a rather bitty impression, but Humperdinck manages to keep one’s interest - for example, the Casket Song (soprano, chorus, orchestra and harp again) is a 2:45 highlight.
Das Wunder (The Wonder), is music he composed for a British silent film from 1912 made in colour(!). It was presented at the Royal Opera House in 1912, the film being projected on to a screen with the full orchestra and chorus accompanying. The suite here begins with a prelude for solo organ, leading into a Procession and Children’s Dance, which begins with grand pageantry then quietens down for a rustic dance. The longest sections are the last two, the March of the Army and the Death Motif and the Christmas Scene and Finale. The first is quite memorable with flutes, piccolos, fifes and drums, leading to portentous brass chords for the Death Motif. The Christmas music and finale form a much more serene, ten-minute affair, with the orchestra producing a chiming effect for Christmas bells without orchestral bells being employed. I don’t think that the whole piece shows Humperdinck at his most memorable, but it is enjoyable, nonetheless.
Die Wallfahrt nach Kevlaar – Ballade (The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar) is a setting of three poems by Heinrich Heine, and Humperdinck uses soprano, tenor and chorus with orchestra. The songs tell of a journey made by a mother and her sick son to the shrine of The Virgin Mary at Kevelaer. The first song – At the Window stands the Mother - is a 3’30” narrative between soprano and tenor with the chorus commenting leading to an impressive, very Wagnerian crescendo, followed by the soloists combining with the chorus in a long, sustained note at the end. The second song, at just over seven minutes, depicts the visit to the shrine with a processional quality which slowly gathers strength. The tenor sings some very passionate music, somewhat reminiscent of Tanhauser’s Rome Narration, in which the boy and his mother are described. The last section at 4’33” – The Sick Son and the Mother – describes the death of the child, and, as one might expect, is duly solemn. The horn accompanies the soprano in dramatic declamation as the boy dies, and the chorus provide a swelling epilogue, with the soprano and harp softening things in a brief threnody at the very end. The work is set in a most sympathetic manner by Humperdinck.
The CD ends with his incidental music to Aristophanes’ Lysistrata. The composer tries to capture the antique nature of the play through his instrumentation, but even so we can hear Tristan during an extended cor-anglais solo. It is an attractive short suite.
As I mentioned at the outset, I have found this CD to be a welcome issue, and the last three items are all world premiere recordings. The booklet is informative about the composer and the music, and although texts to the sung parts are not provided, they are available from the Naxos website.
The performances are excellent in every respect, as we have come to expect from Malmö, and the recording is well balanced and natural.
– MusicWeb International (Jim Westhead)
The Eleanor Hovda Collection
HOVDA Onyx. Song in High Grasses. Snapdragon. Leaning Into and Away. Ariadne Music. Coastal Traces Tidepools 1. Shenai Sky. Record of an Ocean Cliff. Crossings in a Mountain Dream. Glacier Track. Glosses Glacier. Beginnings. Coastal Traces Tidepools 2. Borealis Music. Boundaries. Cymbalmusic: Centerflow/Trail II. Journey Music. Lemniscates. Regions. Jo Ha Kyu. Ikima. Breathing The Proclamation: excepts. Dancing in Place. Spring Music with Wind. 40 Million Gallons of Music • Prism Players; Libby Van Cleve (ob, English horn, shenai); Jack Vees (el gtr, b gtr); Eleanor Hovda (pn, cymbals, shakuhachi); Relache; Cassatt Qrt; California EAR Unit; Jan Weller, David Gilbert (fl); Elizabeth Panzer (hp); Lee Humphries (pn); et al. • INNOVA 808 (4 CDs: 4:20:03)
I’ve written about Eleanor Hovda (1940–2009) in these pages before; indeed, in the program notes for this release I’m quoted at length. For that I’m honored, because I feel she is a major composer in need of a certain rescue now. She died of cancer far too young; she forsook positions in the Ivy League and New York artistic life for grassroots arts administering in her native and beloved Minnesota; she wrote music that, despite genuine complexity, often looked simple or naïve in score. In short, by life and aesthetic choices she herself made, and by the cards dealt her over which she had no control, she was marginalized in the broader culture of American music. But we still need her.
Parts of this comprehensive collection were originally released by O.O. Discs and I reviewed some of it in Fanfare 22:4; I’d urge interested readers to check this review out in the online archive, as it goes into much more technical detail about the music than I will here. The second disc, Coastal Traces , is more of an extended collective improvisation for dance featuring Libby Van Cleve, double reeds; Jack Vees, guitars; and Hovda on piano interior. But the other three discs consist of more clearly defined pieces, even though they still have the composer’s trademark openness.
I now think of Hovda to some degree as the American Scelsi. By that I mean there’s an emphasis on pure sound as an expressive medium, shaped at the macro and micro level to bring out what Wallace Stevens called “the beauty of inflections.” There’s also a mystical/spiritual bent, but it’s never overbearing. Unlike Scelsi’s, Hovda’s music is often fragile, gentle, and delicate. As a result, when it really rips loose, it carries a shocking impact. I now feel that she’s an example of what I call “sonic charisma,” a capacity to take basic sonic materials that should be simplistic, facile, messy, and then imbue them with such authenticity that you can’t resist them. (Christian Wolff is another such composer in my book.)
The performances are consistently imaginative and committed, and make the case for the music persuasively. Some of the recordings are more “archival” than others, but I’d never for a second preclude their inclusion because of some hiss or ambient noise. The works range from the exceptional oboe work Jo Ha Kyu (thrillingly performed by Libby Van Cleve) to the Cassatt Quartet’s glasslike rendition of Lemniscates to what sounds like a vast Tibetan tantric ritual in 40 Million Gallons of Music (in fact the real story is just as wild, as the piece is a sonic exploration of a giant underground water storage tank in Fayetteville, Arkansas, recorded just after 9/11). Hopefully that gives some idea of the range. As a grand bonus, the scores for works on three of the four discs are viewable on your computer as pdfs (as are extended program notes for the entire set). One senses both how free and how precise the composer was; her craft is evident in these striking scores in her own hand. Though there is one score, Cymbalmusic, whose graphic approach is incredibly beautiful and imaginatively focused, in all the scores one sees a magical touch at work, mixing scribbling doodles with more traditional notation.
A final word of thanks and recognition to Philip Blackburn and the entire Innova organization, as this is yet another of the incredibly important rescue operations they’re performing for composers who might otherwise slip through the cracks (I think of their great Henry Brant series, for example). Every music library in America, for example, should have this collection. Bravo; it gives us all a little faith in lean times. And this is unquestionably on the next Want List.
FANFARE: Robert Carl
Barber: The Complete Solo Piano Music / John Browning
Samuel Barber wrote his Piano Concerto for John Browning (1933-2003) who gave the première at the inaugural celebrations for the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts in New York in 1962. The work was awarded the Pulitzer Prize and has become the most frequently performed American Piano Concerto – Browning himself gave about 400 performances of the work. He also recorded it twice – in 1964, with George Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra for CBS. The first is on Sony Essential Classics SBK87948, coupled with the Violin Concerto with Isaac Stern and the New York Philharmonic under Leonard Bernstein. He returned to it in 1991 with Leonard Slatkin and the St Louis Symphony (for BMG/RCA Red Seal). This latter brought Browning his first Grammy award. The present disk, when it appeared on MusicMasters in 1993 earned him his second for “Best Classical Instrumental Soloist without Orchestra”. In 1994 Browning partnered Cheryl Studer and Thomas Hampson in a complete recording of Barber’s complete songs on Deutsche Grammophon 435 867–2. Thus we can see that if ever a pianist was immersed in Barber’s piano works Browning was the man.
Barber’s piano music covers his whole career and the styles of the pieces employ almost as many different languages. Take his masterpiece for the instrument – the Sonata. Commissioned by Irving Berlin and Richard Rodgers to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the League of Composers it is a tersely and cogently argued work. It employed twelve note technique, but never loses sight of tonality. It was premièred by Vladimir Horowitz. It’s a tour de force of piano writing and is a ferociously difficult work both to play and to listen to. It gives little respite to both performer and listener and needs repeated hearings to get to grips with its language. Horowitz recorded the work in 1950 on RCA Victor: 60377-2-RG coupled with Kabalevsky’s 3rd and Prokofiev’s 7th Sonatas. This is the touchstone by which all pianists must be measured. Browning plays this complex work to the manner born. Perhaps his performance is not as idiomatic as that by Horowitz but, like van Cliburn, he has his own ideas on how the music should be interpreted. Although he doesn’t quite make it his own – Horowitz can rest easy here – he makes a very persuasive case for the work and this is a superb performance.
The next biggest piece is the set of four Excursions – Barber’s first major piano work. They are based on old American songs and musical vernacular: the first movement is a kind of boogie–woogie, the second a blues, the third uses The Streets of Laredo as its melodic idea and the last is a square dance. Although lighter in texture and feel they are no less virtuosic than the Sonata. These are delightful pieces, unpretentious and easy–going and Browning is totally at home with them, making them sing and bringing out a little nostalgia as well. Delicious stuff.
The late Ballade was written for the Van Cliburn competition. It’s a hot-house affair which owes more than a little to the highly flavoured music of Scriabin. The composer packs a lot into a short playing time. Interlude I is a surprisingly big piece with big ambitions. Considering its early compositional date it is surprisingly mature and well wrought. Finally, the Nocturne, another Browning première of a piece by Barber. It’s a highly decorated work, full of filigree work. Browning has said that perhaps it is more of a homage to Chopin than Field. Certainly there is more of the former in its keyboard layout than the latter.
There’s little that can be said of this recital except that is essential listening and the performances are as committed as one could hope for. Browning’s was a major talent which was heard all too infrequently outside the USA so we must be grateful for his recordings. His major competitor is Daniel Pollack (Naxos 8.550992) and he gives all the works here plus the Three Sketches (1923/1924) and an arrangement for solo piano of the ballet suite Souvenirs. His disk is worth having for these two extra pieces but it cannot be considered as a sole choice for this music when this collection is so good. This is well worth having on the shelf both as a reminder of a great pianist and as an example of some of the most refined piano music to come out of America in the 20th century.
-- Bob Briggs, MusicWeb International
Schuman: Symphony No 6 / Schwarz, Seattle Symphony
SCHUMAN Symphony No. 6. Prayer in Time of War. New England Triptych • Gerard Schwarz, cond; Seattle SO • NAXOS 8559625 (60:51)
I was working as office administrator for a church at the time of 9/11, and can still remember the shock and angst following the attack and its aftermath. The minister came to me one day and mentioned how horrible things were. I remarked that at times like this I thought of Olivier Messiaen and his three fellow musicians, held prisoner in a Nazi POW camp, thinking that not only their own ends were near but the end of the world, and how Messiaen responded, artistically, with his masterly Quartet for the End of Time. The minister looked at me as if I had just said I came from Mars and said, “Well, I don’t know how to rock and roll any more!”
Different strokes for different folks, I suppose. I respond more to Messiaen and those other works written as a response to the angst of a war that shattered mankind to the very depths of its soul. William Schuman’s response was his 1943 Prayer in Time of War and, afterwards, his abstract but darkly soul-shattering Symphony No. 6. The Prayer met with good critical response when it first appeared, the symphony with antipathy bordering on outright hostility. Its premiere with the Dallas Symphony conducted by Antal Dorati on February 27, 1949, incensed the audience so much that, in Schuman’s words, “They questioned whether they should even complete payment of the commission.”
The symphony, following the dark music he wrote for ballets by Antony Tudor ( Undertow ) and Martha Graham ( Night Journey ), is similarly black and angst-ridden. Like Vaughan Williams’s own Sixth Symphony, it is a highly personal reaction to a postwar world in which so many thousands of lives were ended or disrupted, a world dominated by power struggles with the Soviets, the atomic bomb, and the intense effort it took to pick up shattered lives and move on. The fact that Vaughan Williams’s work was understood and appreciated in England while Schuman’s was vilified in America probably has something to do with the level of property destruction the former country suffered. America itself was largely protected, at least physically, and like the onset of the Depression, the postwar years created a market for soft, soothing music. Schuman’s existentialist bombshell was not what audiences wanted to hear.
Even today—perhaps especially today, in an uncertain world caught between Islamic jihads on one side and an economic freefall on the other—Schuman’s symphony and Prayer speak to us deeply unless, of course, you are one of those who just don’t know how to rock and roll. The Prayer is gentler in expression. Despite a dangerous-sounding Più animato section in which the storm of war is depicted, its overall mood is soothing in its multitonal, Ives-like expression. The second outburst, consisting of brass fanfares and animated strings, is more hopeful than nihilistic, and it ends with the same soft chord with which it began. Conversely, the symphony is consistently dark, a tunnel with no light at its end but only the quietude of resignation and emotional defeat. One of the more furious outbursts at about the 20-minute mark didn’t seem to me as well composed as the rest of the work, but even this somewhat spurious moment seemed to me to indicate our powerlessness against forces too strong to fight.
Gerard Schwarz has developed over the years into an outstanding conductor, with only a few of his recordings sounding emotionally shallow. This music is very much his métier as, apparently, was the Mahler Seventh he recorded a while back. These performances lack nothing in drama, feeling, or outstanding orchestral balance. Schwarz’s only rival in the symphony with which I’m familiar is the recording by American conductor Hugh Keelan with the New Zealand Symphony (Koch 7290), a fine performance as well if, to my ears, a little less seamlessly joined than Schwarz’s. The Prayer is combined with Schuman’s Fourth Symphony and Judith on First Edition 11, played by Jorge Mester and the Louisville Symphony, but the splendidly professional polish of the Seattle Symphony surpasses Louisville’s playing capacity of that time.
After two such melancholy works, Schwarz ends this CD with one of Schuman’s most popular pieces, the New England Triptych , three pieces for orchestra after William Billings. Here the language is also bitonal but the overall mood more positive. It’s a wonderful way for the disc to end and, again, Schwarz gives a performance comparable to the best available, including Howard Hanson’s classic account for Mercury Living Presence (432755) and Leonard Slatkin with the St. Louis Symphony (RCA 61282). Their versions have, perhaps, a trifle more swagger, but Schwarz is not eclipsed; and, when combined with these shattering performances of the symphony and Prayer, it makes for an indispensable disc for those who admire Schuman’s unique musical aesthetic.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
If we set to one side the disavowed first two symphonies Gerard Schwarz has now completed recording the Schuman symphonies. Only the Schwarz-Seattle-Naxos Eighth awaits issue. The series began with a handful of Schuman symphonies recorded by Delos in the 1990s. Naxos has picked up the baton dropped when the gloriously ambitious Delos project stumbled and fell. That they are doing this at bargain price is remarkable as with so much that Naxos does. Naxos have reissued all the Delos session symphonies and continued and completed the cycle in Seattle. This disc mixes the Delos-originated 1990 session for the Triptych with newer Naxos fixtures in 2005 and 2008. The transcript of an interview with Gerard Schwarz can be found on the Naxos website.
The Sixth Symphony was first recorded by Ormandy in the 1960s on CBS AML 4992 and reissued on Albany TROY256. It’s a work of nocturnal reclusion; not at all restful. Although Schuman has his lyric heart on display it is not close to his sleeve. The song is sweet but haunted and darkly clouded with Bergian strands – even a touch of Allan Pettersson about it. Barber in his most introspective brown study comes to mind and the tension never lets up. Kinetic fury has usually been part of the Schuman palette and so it is here (try. 20:00 onwards) although occluded lyricism dominates and acts as an indefatigable magnetic pull. The work is presented in a single half hour track. The Sixth was commissioned by the Dallas Symphony Orchestra League and the Dallas orchestra premièred it with Antal Doráti conducting on 27 February 1949. It’s an impressive piece if without the compulsive concentration that bowls over listeners to the Third Symphony and the Violin Concerto.
Prayer in a Time of War first saw light of day with Fritz Reiner and the Pittsburgh Orchestra on 26 February 1943. It’s a substantial movement of symphonic bearing and unyielding seriousness as befits the subject. The language is touched with some bleakness but it is less convoluted than that of the Sixth Symphony. This is the Schuman of the Third Symphony admitting and radiating facets that recall Roy Harris and Aaron Copland. The brass writing is gaunt, statuesque and excoriating; the drum-taps and cold fanfares referencing Lincoln and Whitman. It’s is a grand statement to put alongside his works of similar concision: Credendum, In Praise of Shahn and American Hymn. This is not its first recording; that honour goes to the Louisville and Jorge Mester – still to be had on Louisville First Edition.
New England Triptych is in three movements: I. Be Glad Then, America [5:05]; II. When Jesus Wept [7:53] III. Chester [3:08]. The outer movements are redolent of Tippett in zest, springiness and riotous exuberance. The Triptych was premièred in Miami on 28 October 1956, with Andre Kostelanetz conducting the University of Miami Symphony Orchestra. The next month Kostelanetz took it to the New York Phil. It is one of Schuman’s most accessible works despite its date. The three movements are based on hymns by the Revolutionary period figure, William Billings (1746– 1800). Schuman refers to “a fusion of styles and musical language”; acidic-epic Schuman meets devout Hanoverian. The middle movement recalls RVW’s Tallis and Bliss’s Blow Meditations.
Let’s not write off those first two symphonies (1935, 1937). I have heard the Second Symphony in a 1930s broadcast by Howard Barlow and the CBS orchestra and it’s by no means negligible. Then there are other works which will be worth revival – principally theConcerto on Old English Rounds and the spectacular symphonic cantata Casey at the Bat, superbly revived by Dorati in Washington as part of the American centennial event diary.
It’s a pleasure to report that this disc was generously supported by the National Endowment for the Arts who seem to have moved away from a policy that appears at one time to favour only the work of the adherents of academic dissonance.
The notes are by Joseph W. Polisi, currently sixth president of The Juilliard School and author of “American Muse: The Life and Times of William Schuman” (Amadeus Press, 2008).
Keep watching for the Naxos Schuman Eighth secure in the knowledge that Schwarz and his Pacific Edge orchestra are fully equal to the challenges set by Schuman. Naxos will again, I am sure, provide a stunning recording as they have done here across a span of eighteen years – session to session.
-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No 5, Triple Concerto / Fleisher
Fleisher plays the first movement with splendid brio and the dash with which he gives out the opening flourishes is equalled by the orchestra's attack and energy when it starts the tutti. In one passage of brilliant semiquavers he tends to hurry very slightly, both times it comes, but in general his rhythm is excellent. There are, too, passages of most lovely liquid playing, a kind of brush of quiet sound, beautiful not only as sound but admirable in that they let woodwind solos come through without any forcing by the players. Fleisher is obviously always aware of what's going on in the orchestra and knows when he should be taking part in chamber music, rather than always holding the front of the stage. He does indulge in a wide range of speeds but not, I suppose, more than is usually done. The slow movement is played simply by both soloist and orchestra, as it should be— yet it's a difficult thing to play something so apparently simply but make it as moving as it is here.
At the very end of the movement (bar 80) you may be surprised to hear the strings play a long crotchet, arco, instead of the pizzicato to which we are all so used (which starts only at the last quaver of the bar). I asked Denis Matthews (always a mine of Beethoven information) about this and he told me he had played the concerto with Szell and was quite astonished at rehearsal when the expected 'plonk' from the strings didn't happen. Szell told him that Beethoven's autograph has the `pizz' written over the rests in the middle of the bar: and I now see that the preface in the Eulenburg miniature score states the same thing (despite which, the word is printed at the start of the bar!). This is not a trivial point, for it occurs, of course, at just about the most magical moment of the whole concerto and I do think that the long, grave, B flat from the strings is far more apt than the rather disturbing 'plonk' which emphasizes Beethoven's change from B to B flat in the wrong way.
The finale goes splendidly all through and I only don't like Fleisher's mannered playing of part of the main theme each time. I refer to the bars marked espressivo, which would appear to suggest something other than his jerky delivery of the right hand phrases. But this is a small point and there is no doubt that this is the sort of performance that will make you enjoy the music afresh, for the playing all through the concerto is both zestful and perceptive; Szell's contribution is an added source of pleasure—and the admirable engineering complements the players' artistry.
-- Gramophone [1/1966, reviewing the original LP release of the Emperor Concerto]
------------------------------
The apologies invariably made for Beethoven's Triple Concerto seem to have an effect on performances. I have rarely, if ever, known one which did not in some respect carry an apology with it, and I have rarely, if ever, known one which treated the work in the strong bravura way which makes for success in the Emperor or violin concertos. But here is just such a performance, and it makes one glory in what Beethoven did achieve in the work.
The scale of the work as conceived by Stern, Rose and Istomin is quite different from that of the rival performances on record, however enjoyable. The precision and stylishness of Schneiderhan, Fournier and Anda on DGG make for an eighteenthcentury manner in the outer movements, particularly the first. Some may well continue to prefer it, and technically the balance with the orchestra is better than on the new CBS disc, but the newly roused echoes of other Beethoven concertos place the Stern/ Rose/Istomin performance in the right period. It is after all a produce of the Fidelio years, the years which also produced the Fourth Piano Concerto, the Violin Concerto and the Symphonies Nos. 4 to 6. It is possible to regard the formalism of the outer movements, their conscientious balance of thematic statements by each of the three soloists in turn, as a return to eighteenth-century practice, but the sheer size speaks rather of a really grand manner. And if the thematic material is more bald and less striking than that in other Beethoven concertos (at least in the first movement) there was a practical need with three soloists to keep ideas short.
In achieving a sense of size Stern, Rose and Istomin reveal their own stature in the relaxation of the playing. Lesser players would either screw up the tension or become ponderous, but these three over and over again convey the joy of their playing: the relaxed lilt of the second subject, Rose's natural warmth in the slow movement enunciation, the whole of the final Rondo Polacca. Not only has the main Polacca theme tremendous verve, the middle episode, when the `yatta-tah-ta-tah-ta' rhythm emerges on horn and lower woodwind, has a unique tang of East European music. Stern obviously takes the idea of a Polacca literally and exaggerates the first beat in each dactyllic phrase, giving a real bounce to the music, and he is matched by his colleagues.
Then the semiquaver allegro reprise of the main theme towards the end is taken very fast and very clear, the result extraordinarily exciting. You have only to compare the DGG performance, very fast too and excellent in its way, to realize why Stern's, Rose's and Istomin's playing is not merely vital but great. Equally exciting are the furious florid dialogues between violin and 'cello in the passage-work of first and last movements. All three soloists are masterly in varying the tension, in shaping towards climaxes, and Ormandy draws from the Philadelphia Orchestra yet another of his really full-blooded accompaniments. In relation to the soloists the orchestra may seem a little backward, but the salient tuttis burst out with great effect, to match the scale of the soloists' playing. The nearness of the soloists does of course make it hard for them to sound as though they are playing really softly, and initial sotto voce entries in the finale are too loud.
In my detailed comparisons I have occasionally found points in which rivals score over Stern, Rose and Istomin, and the other CBS version has Serkin in marvellous form actually dominating the performance from the least prominent solo part, the non-virtuoso piano role originally devised for the Archduke Rudolf. But no minor shortcomings can alter the positive merits of what could well come to be regarded as a classic record.
-- Gramophone [10/1965, reviewing the original LP release of the Triple Concerto]
Hindemith: The Long Christmas Dinner
Hindemith conducted the first English performance of the opera at the Juilliard School in New York just nine months before his death in December 1963. For the libretto he persuaded Thornton Wilder (1897-1975) to collaborate with him in adapting his own one-act play of the same name that he had written thirty years previously. Wilder remains a cornerstone of the American literary and theatrical establishment but was notoriously unwilling to allow his works to be used for alternative theatrical or musical use. Hence although The Matchmaker did make it to the stage as Jerry Herman's Hello Dolly, he refused permission for his most famous works; Our Town and The Skin of our Teeth. The latter was mooted as a musical by Bernstein - which the author accepted - but when that venture collapsed he rejected Bernstein's further approach to make it an opera. According to the liner written by Tappan Wilder - Wilder's nephew and literary executor - he was extremely well versed in music in general and opera in particular as well as many languages. Skills, one imagines, that must help the collaborative process between composer and librettist a lot.
The dramatic conceit behind this highly compressed work is essentially a simple one. The drama is presented in a single fluid sequence of Christmas dinners in one household over a period of ninety years. There is no significance with it being Christmas except that it is a day that brings families together so the audience witnesses the succeeding generations in the same setting. Apparently Orson Welles credited the original play as the inspiration behind the famous 'breakfast-montage' sequence in Citizen Kane where the audience witnesses the changing/decaying relationship between Kane and his first wife. Hindemith writes in a similarly fluid style - there is little division between scenes. He uses recurring motifs to signify the passing years. Wilder's libretto revisits moments of perfunctory conversation that will be familiar to every family; "how many years have we lived here?", "you were missed at church today", "I remember when ..." With such conversational text it comes as no surprise that Hindemith writes in an arioso/recitative style - this reminded me in technique if not style of that used by Vaughan Williams in his equally compact and dramatically potent Riders to the Sea. There are few if any arias or indeed ensembles. That being said a highlight of the score is a dramatically moving and technically brilliant sextet where Sam, one of the central family's sons is on leave from the army. He tells his family to act exactly as normal so he has memories to treasure and over their prattling inconsequential small talk he sings a touching counter-melody chorale-like song; "I will hold this tight! I shall remember you!"
To give some sense of the dramatic compression at work: Sam exits; "and so good-bye", the next line of the text laments his death in the war "He was only a boy, a mere boy ... What can we do ... only time can help " and the line following that has moved the plot forward by some years and introduces another character on another Christmas day. Memory, memorial and how we live through the actions and memories of our relatives past and future lie at the heart of this work. The house is the unchanging focal point - although the closing line of the work is "And they're building a new house" but it is the lives of the inhabitants of the house that count.
Not because the text is convoluted or opaque this is an opera that requires considerable concentration if you are not quite literally to lose the plot. Fortunately the entire libretto - in English and Hindemith's own German translation - is included. Layers of potential confusion are added by the fact that - as with many families - certain names are passed down hence we have two Lucias and two Rodericks. Even more confusion comes from the fact that the same singer sings both Lucias and another sings two different roles. Seen live, this might be clear through transitions of costume or setting - with only the ear to guide — blink (in an auditory sense) and you will have dropped a decade. My sole observation with this as a piece of theatre is, I wonder if the compression prevents the audience becoming engaged with any individual character - they simply do not inhabit the stage long enough. That being said, Wilder's drawing of character is so searching and well-observed that I think most of us would recognise personality types and scenarios from our own experience that give weight and resonance to these precisely-drawn sketches.
Hindemith makes no attempt to place the music in time or place. Just the opposite in fact - his chamber orchestra includes a rather anachronistic harpsichord. This was surely the right decision - with such an express journey over the best part of a century it would end up a patch-work of pastiche. Neither does he make any particular significance of it being Christmas except for the work's brief Prelude//Introduction which is a rather curdled and harmonically dense take on "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" - which is about as un-merry as it is possible to imagine. In the essay accompanying the disc by Joel Haney he describes the work as one "which ponders the experience of time as a condition of human possibility and limitation -'the bright and the dark' - through the rise and decline of an American bourgeois family". The brilliance of both authors lies in the way they tie this sense of continuity across time - Hindemith's is a slightly subtler skill because he uses fragments of melody and motif which burrow into the subconscious so by the second or third listen the ear begins to pick up on the connections the music is making with recurring characters situations or text. Hence, this is the work of a master-craftsman. As so often, I find the accusation of Hindemith being a dry or dusty composer wholly without justification. No, he does not write big arching overtly emotional melodies. Rather he points to subtler, more 'real' scenarios which have resonance and truth for the engaged audience member.
So to this performance; Leon Botstein and his American Symphony Orchestra clearly thrive on the discovery and performance of little-known and under-appreciated works. In the past with some of the grander-scale and overtly Romantic works I have found Botstein's approach to be a degree clinical and unwilling to unbutton. Here the precision and measured emotion of Hindemith's score seems to chime perfectly with his aesthetic. This is a recording of a single live performance which given the ensemble complexities and unfamiliarity of the piece is remarkably good. There is no audible audience noise - my only sorrow is that the hall ambience is cut off very quickly at the end of the work - to preclude applause one supposes. The orchestra play very well - the engineering places the instruments quite closely behind the voices which occasionally obscures the text. All of the singers are of a very high standard and fortunately most of the text is sung with commendable clarity. Of particular brilliance is the beautifully light and clear singing of Kathryn Guthrie as Leonora. Indeed the entire cast are excellent both in ensemble and individually. None make any attempt to 'age' their voices with their characters - something perhaps an actor in the original theatrical version might.
Bridge present this single CD in a double CD case - presumably to allow for the thicker than usual liner/libretto. As well as the text the liner includes the usual performer biographies as well as two useful essays about the work. The disc runs for less than fifty minutes but so concentrated and complete in itself is the work that a filler would seem inappropriate and unnecessary. A fascinating and rather moving work. It reveals Hindemith and Wilder as masters of the slow-burn potent theatrical experience which lingers in the memory for the power of its insight into the human condition.
-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International
Mendelssohn: Songs Without Words / Rena Kyriakou
A thoughtfully integrated yet scintillating-when-appropriate (the final variations) rendition of the Variations sérieuses proves more than mere filler, although more dynamically characterized and colorful interpretations can be had, past (Horowitz, Cortot) and present (Perahia, Thibaudet). I hope the balance of Kyriakou's Vox Mendelssohn cycle will appear in due course.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com
Christmas Carols / Donald Hunt, Worcester Cathedral Choir
Who Are These Angels? - Choral Music Of MacMillan / Cappella Nova
"Cappella Nova present illuminating performances which perfectly capture MacMillan's profound sense of the sacred, but here the sense of looking back over the centuries is especially strong...[an] essential addition to the rapidly growing discography of one of Britain's most self-assured musical voices."
- Gramophone, February 13, 2012
Aside from being very rewarding to sing, James Macmillan's religious music makes such a refreshing change from what's usually offered in churches today. Approachable without being apologetic, emotional but with a sense of dignity, the best of these works can both delight and challenge. Wonderful surprises, like the string quartet's seagull effects in Who are these Angels?, or the Gesualdo-like harmonic shifts in Pascha nostrum immolatus est, rub shoulders with music that matches the unselfconscious directness of folk or even pop music - MacMillan's early experience in folk bands has done him no harm at all. At the same time, it must be stressed that we are worlds away here from the limply syncopated pseudo-pop that the church often seems to think will entice the people back into the pews.
The backbone of this programme is the second set of Strathclyde Motets, and this is where you'll generally find the most absorbing music. The Mass of Blessed John Henry Newman strikes this listener as a little more functionally liturgical - effective enough in context, but relatively short on the kind of ideas that make you catch your breath. At the other end of the scale is the simple but touching Think of how God loves you, written for the baptism of the composer's granddaughter. (James MacMillan a grandfather? Older readers take a deep breath!) Everything is performed with elegance and the requisite intensity., and the recordings are clear and atmospheric.
- Stephen Johnson, BBC Music Magazine, March 1, 2012
This disc is a follow-up to the very fine 2007 Cappella Nova CD which included the first set of James MacMillan’s Strathclyde Motets. It contains the second and final set of seven motets. Most of the music here is of fairly recent vintage and the majority is designed for use in the Roman Catholic liturgy. That includes the short Mass of Blessed John Henry Newman. This sets the words from the new English translation of the Mass which the Roman Catholic Church brought into use towards the end of 2011. MacMillan says in the booklet that he is “really excited” by this new translation; well, he and I will have to differ there but it’s good that he’s moving quickly to compose some worthwhile music to fit the new words. Listeners should bear in mind that the mainly unison music has been specifically designed for congregational participation. That doesn’t mean that it’s in any way simplistic; I should think the average congregation would need to do a bit of work to master it but the effort would be worthwhile.
The remaining music is specifically to be sung by a choir. I was struck by Tota pulchra es. MacMillan’s response to this Marian text is like no other that I’ve heard. Most are gentle and prayerful or implicitly feminine in tone. MacMillan, by contrast, has composed a surprisingly dramatic, urgent piece. In his setting the devotion to Mary is exciting and fervent and Alan Tavener and his expert choir give it a thrillingly affirmative performance. Another fervent piece is the Easter proclamation Pascha nostrum immolatus est. Indeed, here the fervour is evident even when the music is quieter in tone.
O Radiant Dawn is about the only piece on the disc that I’ve heard previously. It’s become quite popular and I’m not surprised. It’s very attractive and its harmonic language is pretty straightforward. The music has an obvious – and beneficial – indebtedness to O nata lux by Tallis.
Os mutorum is one of the pieces on the disc that’s not specifically for liturgical use. This is an interesting piece which is sung by Canty, a four-voice female ensemble which is a spin-off from Cappella Nova. Rather like Anonymous 4 these ladies specialise in medieval music but they also do quite a bit of music of our own time. Here they sing with a regular collaborator, William Taylor, a specialist in the performance of ancient harp music. MacMillan’s piece is chaste and pure in tone. The textures are spare and the music moves slowly. It’s most effective. And lo, the Angel of the Lord was designed for performance by a group resourced to sing multi-part or antiphonal music; in this case the Birmingham-based Ex Cathedra. The piece sets the passage from St Luke’s Gospel in which the Angels announce the birth of Christ to the shepherds. The writing is imaginative and evocative, especially what I can only describe as the choral fireworks at the words “Glory to God in the highest”. This splendid piece is sung tremendously well by Cappella Nova.
I was intrigued to hear what MacMillan would do with John Donne’s wonderful lines in Bring us, O Lord. Sir William Harris is the exemplar here with his glorious setting of the same words. MacMillan’s music is very different and yet … to my ears he achieves the same ambience of longing and quiet intensity. I admire this piece very much indeed.
I’m not quite sure what I make of Who are these Angels? Although the piece is dated 2009 it appears that elements of it go back to when the composer was just seventeen. The new work into which he’s incorporated that early music is rather strange. There are three strands. The male voices declaim passages in Latin – the teenage music, if you like – while the ladies sing a simpler refrain in English. The third strand is provided by the string quartet whose music is mainly quiet and discreet. The c losing moments feature the quartet alone playing strange, high glissandi which, it is suggested in the notes, sound like bird cries.
This is an absorbing disc. It is full of interest and I admire greatly the way in which the composer responds to the words he is setting. Through his music he enriches and enhances them – as a good musical setting of words always should. We are challenged at times but it’s always accessible. The music is superbly performed by Cappella Nova and the recorded sound is excellent, as you’d expect from this label. As with the earlier release, the booklet notes take the form of a very interesting conversation between MacMillan and Rebecca Tavener. I suspect many of these pieces are receiving their first recordings here.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Weinberg: Symphony No. 3; The Golden Key Suite No. 4 / Svedlund, Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra
Suite No. 4 from the ballet "The Golden Key", a puppet ballet loosely based on Pinocchio is also tuneful and of interest for its somewhat eccentric dances, (a "Cricket" dance consists of little less than a minute of a single, rhythmically odd, continuously repeated hopping motive,) as well as folk-like dances with a rustic quality. If Weinberg in these works had been a Western composer of that era the music would often be considered light pops concert fare with bright, straight-forward tunefulness, not unlike popular movie or TV music, yet at times there is a darker undercurrent that occasionally surfaces. We know from other Weinberg works that he was capable of music of considerable emotional depth. This occasional faint uneasiness might have been sensed in these otherwise tuneful works, for Weinberg himself withdrew his Third Symphony before the premiere to correct "errors" and later edited and revised it and the ballet, though eventually accepted by a Soviet dance company was not staged. Both were performed some ten years later and after Stalin's death. Interesting, eccentric and appealing music that comes from living through a dangerous period.
- Greg La Traille, ArkivMusic.com
-----
WEINBERG Symphony No. 3. The Golden Key: Suite No. 4 • Thord Svedlund, cond; Gothenburg SO • CHANDOS 5089 (49:53)
Mieczyslaw Weinberg found it easier than most composers in the late 1940s and early 1950s to comply with the vague yet dangerously contradictory goals of the Zhdanov Doctrine. He had a naturally lyrical gift, a clear sense of structure, and an ability to write simply, with complete focus. Paying uncomplicated tribute to folk music without a hint of condescension was easy for him, though of course it came easier in smaller forms than larger ones. That was why a plethora of such works as the Rhapsody on Moldavian Themes , the Polish Themes, Serenade for Orchestra , and Fantasy for Cello and Orchestra , along with various concertinos and sonatinas grace Weinberg’s list of compositions at that time. But the Symphony No. 3 was a bid for popularity in a big, mainstream work. It was not to get a chance to grow an audience, unfortunately, as Stalin’s paranoia over Jews (and Poles, Ukrainians, and just about every other group he could imagine) denied Weinberg a performance. It had to await the so-called “cultural thaw” under Krushchev for its debut in 1960. I can find no other currently available recordings of the work.
The Symphony No. 3 is very much of its time and place, as you’d expect. The dissonant elements of the First Symphony, the gritty anguish of the Second, the complexities of counterpoint and the emotional ambiguity of both, are nowhere to be found. The work is formally non-programmatic, but it’s all to easy to hear the “youth” theme (a standard formula in many composers’ Soviet pieces of the period, a naively cheerful melody with a flattened seventh and little else to offer the world) in the first movement and the minor-key, slightly dissonant obstacles it faces as a tribute to the Young Soviet Facing the Tide of Obstruction and Overcoming. To Weinberg’s credit, his youth theme is the most graceful I’ve heard, and his orchestral writing is a delight throughout. The attractive Scherzo includes a Polish mazurka, along with a few fine examples of counterpoint imbedded as folk improvisation, while the Adagio is a threnody displaying Khachaturian’s gift for emotional directness without descending into mawkishness: pathos, not bathos. The finale returns to the battlefield of the opening Allegro, with curious overtones of Shostakovich’s Fifth and Sixth. It ends not with the triumphalism one might expect, but with a grim “soldiering on” attitude that doesn’t quite fit with or summarize everything that’s gone before.
The ballet The Golden Key was finished in 1955, two years after Stalin’s sudden death (and Weinberg’s resultant freedom from prison). The satirical tale of the puppet lovers Burattino and Malvina, who after facing several animal and human antagonists encourage the other puppets to revolt, would seem tailor-made for the composer’s talents, but Weinberg found it surprisingly difficult to gain acceptance for the score. When the Stanislavski and Nemirovich-Danchenko Musical Theater finally accepted it in 1955, it took another seven years before staging The Golden Key —and then, only with a largely reworked scenario. Weinberg, like Prokofiev, knew the value of a good ballet suite, and he wrote four in 1964 that accessed music from the original and the revised versions. This, the fourth suite (presumably others will appear in future releases in this series), is a tuneful delight. My favorites are the dance of the two animal villains, Alice the Fox and Basilio(!) the Cat, a nose-thumbing, heavily accented folk piece; and “The Pursuit,” with its nod at Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet.
Thord Svedlund is in strong form on this release, emphasizing orchestral color, clarity, and internal balance. He doesn’t miss any of the humor in the Third Symphony’s Scherzo or several of the ballet’s dances, but also doesn’t shortchange the emotional appeal of the former’s Adagio and the latter’s Elegy. The Gothenberg musicians play with delicacy and character. This certainly isn’t the most representative disc of Weinberg to come down the musical pike, as more attention is finally paid to this excellent composer, but it may prove to be the one with the greatest overall appeal to general classical listeners. My only reservation is the short timing. At less than 50 minutes, was there nothing else Weinberg composed for orchestra that could have been included?
Regardless, definitely recommended.
FANFARE: Barry Brenesal
-----
This latest CD volume from Chandos makes for another outstanding contribution to their unique survey of Weinberg’s symphonies and pleasure is diffused only slightly by the short playing time.
The playing by the Gothenburgers is exemplary. This is early Weinberg - at least the Third Symphony is. It's a 30-plus minute, four movement, B minor piece written in 1950 and revised in 1959. The first movement sports a tickling forward-pressing motif. This is clothed sweetly, at first, but the atmosphere becomes gradually more determined and warlike-heroic with a sideways glance at Shostakovich's Leningrad. It's extremely exciting and might be thought of as comparable to the first symphonies of Sviridov and Dvarionas among others. It is not as belligerent as these other examples; certainly the sweet oboe pastoral (I 6:20) is far more gentle than anything found in those other works. Something of dancing snowflakes in this but also of warm pine forests. A chill sets in towards the end of the movement. There's a playful sprinting and flittering allegro giocoso and this can be contrasted with a potently sustained and meditative gloom. There’s tenderness in the Adagio (III) which is almost as long as the first movement. The clarinet solos have a plangently woody bubble and the theme seems a byway off the Volga Boatmen’s Song. This ends in a becalmed murmur from the strings. The finale returns to the implacably sturdy fast-pulsed mood of the heroic first movement. This is a splendidly rich recording with a nice throaty roar to the brass.
This revised version of the Symphony was premiered by Aleksandr Gauk conducting the All-Union Radio and TV Symphony Orchestra in Moscow on 23 March 1960.
The Golden Key was a ballet written in 1954-55 to a fairy fable scenario by Aleksey Tolstoy (1882-1945). In this format the music was premiered on 10 June 1962. Two years later Weinberg extracted for suites of which this is the last. The music is full of Petrushkan character, gawky, winningly elegiac (tr. 6 with its oboe singer), impudently Respighian (tr. 7) and ruthlessly driven (The Rat). The final Pursuit movement combines iterative obsessional onrush with an innocence absent from the assaults of the Symphony’s first and final movements
Every part of this production shouts quality. The notes are by David Fanning whose knowledge of the music and the era must be second to none. Svedlund knows the Weinberg works well having already recorded many of them so he is a reliable and inspired guide
If you enjoy Russian music of the mid and first half of the last century then you need to hear this. It's by no means garish poster material and its depth and accessible grip may surprise.
– Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International