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Jones: Missa Spes Nostra - Ludford: Ave Cujus Conceptio - Hunt: Stabat Mater
Blue Heron Renaissance Choir · Aug 2015CD$21.99 -
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Oboe Rarities: Original Works for Oboe & Piano / Calcagni, Magagni
Vermeer Records · Jun 2019CD$16.99 -
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Reich, Harrison, Whitacre, Tywoniuk, Ravel / Smoke And Mirrors Percussion Ensemble
Yarlung Records · Nov 2012CD$21.99 -
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SaleSchubert: Impromptu In B Flat; Beethoven: Piano Sonatas Nos. 6 & 29
ICA Classics · Feb 2012CD$14.99$11.99 -
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Tchaikovsky & Sibelius: Serge Koussevitzky Conducts the London Philharmonic (Live)
SOMM Recordings · Sep 2022CD$32.99 -
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Henselt & Bronsart: Piano Concertos / Paul Wee, Collins, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
BIS · May 2024SACD$21.99 -
SaleAmerican in Paris (An) / Porgy and Bess Suite / Gershwin in Hollywood
Naxos · May 2002CD$19.99$9.99 -
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DEBUSSY: COMPLETE PIANO WORKS FANTAISIE FOR PIANO
Jones: Missa Spes Nostra - Ludford: Ave Cujus Conceptio - Hunt: Stabat Mater
Still, some of the partbooks have gone missing over time; and given that a set, one voice to a part, is required for performance, any loss has proven sufficient to silence so much fine Tudor polyphony. The Henrician Peterhouse group—Peterhouse MSS 40, 41, 31 and 32, a total of 72 works, 39 of which are unica—furnish a sad example of this. Of its five partbooks, the tenor is missing, as well as several leaves removed at some point from the treble. Various scholars long asserted that the kind of florid style frequently found in these books was no longer being composed in the later years of Henry’s rule, and paid no attention to the partbooks because they were little known and their contents unperformable. It is thanks to musicologist Nick Sandon, who has supplied the tenor part (and when necessary, the treble), that we have a working edition of those compositions that can’t be found elsewhere.
This fourth volume of the series once again features a work by Nicholas Ludford (c. 1490–1557). He is easily the best-known composer on the disc, which, given that he was almost entirely unknown until the last half century, says much about England’s musical discontinuity. (As well as the importance of Peterhouse’s Henrician partbooks; for a fair amount of what they include isn’t unica by well-known composers, but by those who lived, worked, died, and were completely forgotten.) Though his Ave cujus conceptio is not the centerpiece of the album as the Missa Regnum mundi (Blue Heron 1003) and Missa Inclina cor meum (Blue Heron 1004) were of theirs, it is a brightly buoyant work without shadows, launching lengthy melismatic phrases like so many streamers.
The central work on the program is the Missa Spes nostra of Robert Jones (fl. 1520–1535). His is a cantus firmus Mass, and as was the custom in England at the time, there is no pre-composed, polyphonic Kyrie. (Blue Heron supplies a plainchant one from the Sarum use sung, as was this Mass, on Trinity Sunday.) Metcalfe points out in his excellent liner notes that Jones “plays with the idea of alternation between major and minor harmonizations of the third scale degree” throughout the Mass. This, along with some simpler homophonic statements among the wealth of imitation, gives it at times an almost folk-like quality, though upon other occasions Jones relishes the passing dissonances his juxtapositions invite. Sandon notes in his doctoral dissertation that Jones can be unpredictable, and that he “sometimes writes very neat motivically generated counterpoint, but at other times he can be quirky and wayward.” This Mass is a highly individualized work, and amply repays repeated listening.
The final composer on the program, Robert Hunt, is so obscure that he hasn’t even been further identified yet. Only two pieces of his survive, both in the Peterhouse partbooks: an Ave Maria mater dei, and the Stabat mater dolorosa heard here. It is the only work on the disc missing both its tenor and treble parts, which Sandon has supplied. In a manner that recalls the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, it invites the listener to partake in the successive emotions experienced at the foot of the Cross by Mary, and manages this brilliantly in a very free, intensely emotive fashion. It should be required listening of anyone who feels that imitative counterpoint can’t be expressive.
It is also a superb example of what Scott Metcalfe has achieved with Blue Heron: an ensemble that yields to none for intonation, blend, and clarity, yet also utilizes both overall and part-related dynamics as an expressive device in a way most other professional choirs of its quality do not. Metcalfe is alive to the lyricism that was a remarked-upon feature of 15th-century English music, and the beauty of Blue Heron’s phrasing displays this everywhere on this disc. That the choir isn’t better known is no doubt a result in part of its rarified repertoire, but also Metcalfe’s desire to retain control over all aspects of his recordings. So you won’t find Blue Heron on such labels as Hyperion or Harmonia Mundi, but you will find that the excellent engineering on this album provides a close, rich sound with just enough reverberation to give body to the voices.
Complete texts and translations are included. Really, the entire series to date is worth the purchase. And if you want to sample some of Blue Heron’s recordings, as well as buy them, the place to go is blueheronchoir.org. Strongly recommended.
Oboe Rarities: Original Works for Oboe & Piano / Calcagni, Magagni
Pejacevic: Symphony, Op. 41; Phantasie Concertante / Rasilainen, Banfield, Rheinland-pfalz State Philharmonic
PEJA?EVI? Symphony in f?. Phantasie Concertante for Piano and Orchestra • Ari Rasilainen, cond; Volker Banfield (pn); Rheinland-Pfalz St PO • CPO 777418 (62:42)
Cpo, a label noted for ferreting out obscure repertoire, has outdone itself this time by digging up not just another female composer—that alone wouldn’t be so rare—but a Croatian one to boot. Heretofore, I don’t think I could have named a single Croatian composer of any gender, but now I can. Short-lived Dora Peja?evi? (1885–1923) was actually born in Budapest, the daughter of a Croatian father and a Hungarian mother, the Countess Lilla Vay de Vaya, an accomplished pianist and Dora’s first teacher. On her father’s side, Dora was descended from a distinguished noble family in Slavonia, the eastern region of Croatia. In composition, she was largely self-taught, but she did receive some private instruction in Zagreb, Dresden, and Munich. She died at 38 following complications of childbirth.
During her short life, she produced 58 documented works. That number isn’t particularly noteworthy compared to other composers who died even younger and wrote much more, but what is worth mentioning is that like another female composer, the French Louise Farrenc (1804–75), Peja?evi? competed with the boys in the arena of large symphonic, concerted orchestral, and chamber works. In addition to the symphony and concert fantasy on this disc, known and/or published works include a piano concerto, sonatas for piano, violin, and cello, and a piano quintet. During her life, her music was not entirely unknown in the music capitals of Europe; it was heard in Vienna, Munich, Budapest, and Prague.
The works Peja?evi? left behind, to the extent they were acknowledged at all, must have seemed hopelessly outdated by a musical intelligentsia preoccupied with the latest compositional novelties. It’s not just that she embraced a musical vocabulary practically indistinguishable from any number of late 19th-century Romantic composers, but by the time she came to begin her F?-Minor Symphony in 1916, completing it a year later, the era of the big Romantic symphony was on life support, or at least on recuperative leave. Mahler had pretty much seen to that a decade earlier. Last-stand efforts by Rachmaninoff, Sibelius, Franz Schmidt, and a number of others didn’t change the fact that the symphony, as inherited from the 19th century, was about to take on new forms and modes of expression in the 20th.
Peja?evi?’s symphony, like Rachmaninoff’s Second, may have been written in the 20th century, but it belongs to the 19th. It’s your standard-issue four-movement effusively romantic affair—a rich tapestry spun from strands of long-breathed chromatically enhanced melody, luxuriant harmony, and opulent orchestration. It doesn’t seem to be much influenced by the Mahler-Zemlinsky-Schoenberg axis, though perhaps that shouldn’t be a surprise considering the very complex cultural cross-pollination of Croatia’s history by Hungarian, Italian, and even Russian influences. In fact, isolated passages throughout Peja?evi?’s symphony remind me a bit of Glazunov. But there are so many other crosscurrents going on in the score, not least of which is a passage at 7:54 in the first movement that sounds like it escaped from Dukas’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice . But it quickly morphs into something that sounds like it was lifted from Strauss’s An Alpine Symphony.
If there’s any surprise at all in Peja?evi?’s piece it’s how upbeat and optimistic it sounds for a work ostensibly in a minor key. Her melodies have an almost Italianate character to them in their lithe and graceful manner, and if the title and notes didn’t identify the piece as being in minor, I’d bet the farm it was in major.
The piano Phantasie Concertante came two years after completion of the symphony. In a single movement lasting almost 15 minutes, the piece is a virtuoso vehicle that alternates between Gershwin-like bluesy harmonies and jazzy rhythms on the one hand and keyboard figuration right out of Rachmaninoff on the other. Just listen to the broad, lush melody beginning in the cellos at 6:12 and the florid passagework in the piano weaving around and entwining with it. It could have come from the first movement of Rachmaninoff’s Second Concerto. I hope someone from Hyperion is reading this, because Peja?evi?’s Phantasie and probably her piano concerto as well are ideal candidates for the next volume of the Romantic Piano Concerto series.
When you hear this piece you will wonder how Peja?evi? could have been forgotten. If the climax to the lengthy aforementioned passage doesn’t sweep you away, I can’t think of much else that will. The fact that Peja?evi? could develop, build, and sustain a musical paragraph of such length is evidence in itself that the woman could write circles around many of her peers, male or female.
Pianist Volker Banfield is stunning, as are conductor Ari Rasilainen and his Rheinland-Pfalz State Philharmonic forces. Cpo has done it again. I thought I’d already settled on my annual Want List selections, but this dark horse entry is just going to have to push another pick aside. Urgently recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Reich, Harrison, Whitacre, Tywoniuk, Ravel / Smoke And Mirrors Percussion Ensemble
In Music for Pieces of Wood, Joe Beribak, sitting in the center of a semicircle, begins to strike the first pattern. Joe will maintain this pattern, unflinchingly, for the entire duration of the piece. Katy, Jessica, Derek and Eddie contribute all of the sinuous and minimalist variation which they weave into filaments of sound and rhythm as if all five musicians were one person. Smoke & Mirrors takes us on many journeys in this album. These are refreshingly fully-developed works, each very different from the others, each with its own story. As a whole, these pieces illustrate the breadth of contemporary classical music written for percussionists, as well as the flexibility and virtuosity of Smoke & Mirrors. World class and sophisticated as this ensemble is, these musicians retain and communicate the sheer joy we experienced when banging pots and pans as two-, and three-year olds. Do you remember your own pleasure making a racket as a kid? Smoke & Mirrors: Katalin La Favre, Jessica Cameron, Joe Beribak, Edward Hong and Derek Tywoniuk have never forgotten it.
Ireland: A London Overture / Wilson, Halle Orchestra
Currently there seems to be no stopping the resurgence of interest in John Ireland's music. His cause is certainly being helped by a number of new and reissued recordings, a splendid biography The Music of John Ireland by Fiona Richards (2000) and the hard work by the John Ireland Charitable Trust.
It is not difficult to imagine a wry and knowing smile of satisfaction on the face of Ireland's great teacher Sir Charles Stanford. Although their relationship was often fraught and his teacher's methods considered harsh the influential Stanford loved to see his pupils having success. Ireland certainly came a long way from his days as a vulnerable young student at the Royal College of Music (1897-1901). An easy target for ridicule by attending his early classes wearing knickerbockers and boots; goodness knows what psychological damage he was caused. In 1898 the great master Stanford said to his young pupil, 'All water and Brahms me bhoy and more water than Brahms …Study some Dvořák for a bit and bring me something that isn't like Brahms' ('Charles Villiers Stanford' by Paul Rodmell, Ashgate 2002). Stanford's rebuke seemingly did the trick and Ireland soon produced his precocious and charming Sextet for clarinet, horn and string quartet.
The opening track of this Hallé label disc is the symphonic rhapsody Mai-Dun that Ireland completed in 1921. It seems that the score was inspired by Maiden Castle, the Iron Age hill fort, a structure that reflected Ireland's great interest in historic sites such as fortifications and pagan burial sites. Throughout one is aware of the variegated nature of the score alternating the serious nature of war with calmer passages representing peace.
The tone poem The Forgotten Rite was composed in 1913/14. The work is a product of Ireland's interest in the archaeological sites on the island of Jersey and his fascination with the Arcadian vision of the Greek God Pan. A strong undercurrent is the sense of mystery and one can easily imagine the scene of dawn breaking over a stormy seascape.
The inspiration for the orchestral overture Satyricon from 1944/46 was literary. The character of the boy Giton from the 'Satyricon' of Petronius Arbiter appealed strongly to Ireland. I enjoyed the energetic and effervescent rhythms that at times seemed distinctly Bernsteinesque. With shimmering and soaring string melodies of increasing intensity Ireland inhabits a soundworld close to that of say Max Steiner's score to Victor Fleming's Hollywood blockbuster Gone with the Wind (1939). I loved the strong bucolic feel of the solo passage for clarinet followed by the flute at 4:01-4:57.
Also in the year 1946 Ireland was commissioned to write the score to the film The Overlanders. The Harry Watt film recounted the hazardous journey of driving cattle across the vast country of Australia. John Wilson conducts the five movement suite prepared by Sir Charles Mackerras and published in 1971. I was reminded of the suitability of Ireland's music to Baz Luhrmann's film Australia the 2008 epic romance starring Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman which shares an uncannily similar plot to that of The Overlanders. In particular I enjoyed the third movement Intermezzo: Open Country which is convincingly evocative of Jackaroos on horseback driving herds of cattle across the Australian bush.
In the manner of Elgar's Cockaigne Overture (In London Town) and Vaughan Williams' A London Symphony Ireland was inspired by the sights and sounds of London to write an orchestral score. His A London Overture (1936) is a reworking of the earlier Comedy Overture from 1934 scored for brass band. With music that never reaches anywhere close to the heights of Elgar and Vaughan Williams, Ireland's moderately convincing score seems to lose its way especially in the middle section.
In 1942 Ireland was commissioned by the British Ministry of Information to write a morale boosting patriotic score; the Epic March was the result. It seems that the score contains several musical references to various personalities that were significant in Ireland's life. At times in the Epic March I heard slight reminders of the Walford Davies/George Dyson RAF March Past. Despite the enthusiastic promptings of conductor John Wilson the Epic March, although agreeable, only revealed to me its lacklustre quality.
The music of John Ireland is served extremely well by John Wilson and the Hallé who are on splendid form. These engaging and refreshing readings serve to reinforce to me how far the orchestra has come in recent years. The sound quality from Studio 7 at the BBC at Oxford Road, Manchester is a credit to the engineers. Fiona Richards's booklet notes are as authoritative as I had expected.
-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International
Schubert: Impromptu In B Flat; Beethoven: Piano Sonatas Nos. 6 & 29
BEETHOVEN Piano Sonatas: No. 6 in F; No. 29 in B?, “Hammerklavier.” SCHUBERT Impromptu in B?, D 935/3 • Wilhelm Backhaus (pn) • ICA 5055 (62:35) Live: Bonn 9/24/1959
This recital features Wilhelm Backhaus (1884–1969) near the end of his long career. The German pianist was known throughout his lifetime for his interpretations of Beethoven, Brahms, Schubert, and Mozart primarily, though it should not be forgotten that he was the first person ever to record the 24 Chopin etudes back in 1928. This recording remains a remarkable document of the ease of execution and the elegance of musical interpretation he shared with certain members of that generation of pianists. His technique was formidable in his heyday and—perhaps even more astonishing—it remained so to the very end of his career.
The opening of the “Hammerklavier” Sonata is a bit slow and heavy, but this soon gives way to a torrent of energy and an upsurge in tempo just a few bars later. Backhaus seems to want to show that each theme, each section, has its own character, which needs an adjustment in tempo to best bring that out. The pianist makes the most of the diverse musical sections in the sonata, from the fluid and graceful scalar passages in the first movement, which sound like shimmering silky waves made of delicate musical fabric in his hands, to the big chordal passages, which are powerful walls of sound that surround and engulf the listener. Backhaus has no qualms about enhancing the effect of certain of these latter passages by adding extra sonority in the bass parts—most often just doubling the octave. The slow movement, one of the most difficult and sublime in Beethoven’s oeuvre, is emotionally taxing to even the most seasoned performers. Backhaus intelligently chooses a flowing tempo: never so slow as to drag, but never too fast as to trivialize the music. The finale is taken at a brisk pace. There may be a few wrong notes here and there (albeit not very many), but his sense of pacing is thrilling: There is more than just a sense of danger; there is in his interpretations the conviction that regardless of the obstacles, he will triumph in the end. There is as much fire in this “Hammerklavier” as the best of them.
The other works on the recital are well played as well, the Schubert being particularly inspired. The gentle way in which the pianist caresses the instrument betrays the age in which he matured: This is elegant and lyrical, and Backhaus shows that though this composition is in the same key as Beethoven’s grandest essay for the piano, it is in character lightyears apart. The Beethoven F-Major Sonata is no minor work, and Backhaus gives it all the respect and love that he does the rest of the program. The opening movement is playful in that Haydnesque vein, the fugato finale lighthearted yet filled with Beethovenian determination and drive. The quirky middle movement is perhaps my favorite in the sonata, though. Backhaus revels in the mysterious opening phrases, lightening the path through the middle section, bringing the piece to a wistful end. It is three and a half minutes of pure bliss.
This is a remarkable recital, one that grows on you the more you listen to it—one captured in remarkable sound given its vintage. For a live recital, one should expect a few wrong notes here and there. Backhaus at 75 plays as few as I’ve ever heard in a riveting performance of the “Hammerklavier.” This is no lightweight rendering of the piece, either; this is one to remember. That said, I have a few other favorites: Richter, Gilels, Rudolf Serkin. The one that I come back to more than any other, though, is Peter Serkin (on Pro Arte). There is in his playing the soaring of spiritual heights along with a real sense of structural logic. The fugal finale is brisk, light, rhythmic—almost jazzy—in his hands. But Backhaus is a welcome addition to my collection. If you are a fan of the “Hammerklavier,” then this recording should be welcome to yours as well.
FANFARE: Scott Noriega
Boult Conducts Ireland / Boult, London PO
The recordings here first appeared on various LPs from what was then known as the Lyrita Recorded Edition. Richard Itter’s Lyrita label was, from the very outset, a steadfast champion for Ireland. Overall he was the composer who had the largest number of LPs in the Lyrita listing. There were mono LPs of the piano music from Alan Rowlands, Eric Parkin’s stereo series, the chamber music and the songs. The orchestral LPs from Lyrita were from the period 1966-1971 and all were Boult-conducted:
SRCS32 Prelude: The Forgotten Rite; Mai Dun; Legend for piano and orchestra; Overture Satyricon
SRCS36 These Things Shall Be for baritone solo, chorus and orchestra; Piano Concerto in E flat
SRCS31 London Overture; Concertino Pastorale; Epic March; The Holy Boy; Minuet and Elegy (A Downland Suite)
SRCS45 Symphonic Prelude: Tritons; Two Symphonic Studies; Suite The Overlanders; Scherzo & Cortege (Julius Caesar)
The cover design for the CD booklet is taken from the Keith Hensby design for one of the original LPs and is based on an engraving of the Wren churches- clearly picking up the London reference.
Tritons is an early piece – which has curiosity value rather than anything else. The 40+ years since the recording session have lent the sound for this track a slight tubbiness but once the ear adjusts the brass sounds splendid with all the requisite grate and bite. Turning to a work of undoubted mastery, the effect in The Forgotten Rite is sumptuous - an object lesson in transparent scoring, sensitive interpretative choices and complementary recording technique. This is extraordinarily magical and fey music – gentle, dreamy and enigmatically beautiful. I noted at 6:10 a low key squeak.
The dream is blasted away by Mai-Dun. The title is taken from Thomas Hardy’s Wessex name for the earthworks known as Maiden Castle. It’s a dramatic piece which happily accommodates other influences including, in the aggressive French Horns at 1:20, Tchaikovsky’s 4th Symphony. This is mixed with Delian complexity (3:40). The horns sing out over top of searching forte strings at 4:20 and there are Baxian touches aplenty with at 6:18 a typical brass and percussion dance. As a performance this has more bite than Bryden Thomson on the even more splendidly recorded Chandos collection. However it is Barbirolli who gives this the best outing compromised only by 1940s mono sound on Dutton.
Both London and Epic March have also been recorded by Richard Hickox on Chandos. Hickox is in both cases more expansive than Boult. Boult’s London has sappy rhythmic bite and a glorious wide-stage orchestral image. The Epic March has full breadth and the splendour of a truly Elgarian nobilmente. In fact Ireland must surely have had the older composer’s warlike echoes of the Pomp & Circumstance No. 4 in mind. Lyrita missed a trick by not ending the disc with this piece. The recording misses not a detail: ‘ting’ of the triangle, the zesty side drum in left channel and rolling brass in the right; not to mention that affirmative warble from the brass benches at 5:41.
Rather like Bax, his flirtations with commissioned incidental music were invariably painful. He did not enjoy the BBC commission but on the evidence of Geoffrey Bush’s editorial work we can enjoy a stuttering Holstian scherzo full of jerky activity and a cortege of brooding epic melancholy. The cavernously sonorous clarity at 3:10 for brass and side drum is memorable.
Ireland sole foray into film music was for The Overlanders. Here the mediation between film and concert suite was done by Charles Mackerras – very appropriate given the Australian locale for the film. Scorched Earth has a Rawsthorne-like lyrical acidity – recalling the younger composer’s music for The Cruel Sea. The Intermezzo has a steady-as-she-goes swing in an open natural acoustic. In Brumbies Boult drives the music forward with muscular brusqueness. Note the fast flutter-tonguing from the trumpet. Night stampede has those magnificently burred and rolling horns and there is a majestic blast with which to end the suite.
The Lyrita reissue programme for the orchestral Boult-conducted Ireland will be completed in February and April 2007 with SRCD.241 and SRCD.242. The first will have Legend; Satyricon; Piano Concerto; These Things Shall Be and Two symphonic studies. The second is a mixed anthology: Ireland: Concertino Pastorale; The Holy Boy; Minuet & Elegy (Downland Suite) and Bridge: Rosemary; Suite for Strings; Sally in our Alley; Cherry Ripe; Lament; Sir Roger de Coverley.
The liner-notes for this issue are by three pillars of the Ireland quarter Julian Herbage, Harold Rutland and Geoffrey Bush.
A classic John Ireland collection – magically done. Not the essential Ireland apart from Forgotten Rite - for that you must go to SRCD.241 – but full of vitality and imagination.
-- Rob Barnett , MusicWeb International
Tchaikovsky & Sibelius: Serge Koussevitzky Conducts the London Philharmonic (Live)
SOMM Recordings announces a major new release: the first appearance on album of live performances of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth and Sibelius’ Second Symphonies by the iconic conductor Serge Koussevitzky and the London Philharmonic Orchestra. This historic, two-album set includes an exclusive, specially-commissioned documentary about Koussevitzky’s Boston Symphony Orchestra tenure and his LPO guest appearances, featuring interviews with four key players from both orchestras by Jon Tolansky. Tolansky’s revealing hour-long documentary includes wide-ranging musical excerpts and contributions from former BSO players Harry Ellis Dickson (violin), Everett ‘Vic’ Firth (timpani), and Harry Shapiro (sub-principal horn), and erstwhile LPO sub-principal horn Patrick Strevens. The symphonies are heard in performances Koussevitzky conducted with the LPO in London’s Royal Albert Hall in 1950. Both have been expertly restored by Lani Spahr. Noted authority on historical recordings Rob Cowan provides detailed booklet notes on the “individual, flexible, flammable, emotionally candid and utterly spontaneous” Koussevitzky’s stewardship of both orchestras. He describes the Tchaikovsky as “especially unique [in] its unsparing volatility.... The explosive climaxes leave the audience stunned”. Of the Sibelius, he says: “Koussevitzky’s London Second is as comprehensive an overview of the work as we have”.
Lani Spahr’s previous restorations for SOMM include the four-disc Elgar Remastered (SOMMCD 261-4) featuring recordings from the composer’s own collection, hailed by Audiophilia as “a fascinating achievement which will have you wishing for more”. George Szell: The Forgotten Recordings was a Gramophone Editor’s Choice and awarded a Diapason d’Or as “a major discovery”. Jon Tolansky is the founder of the Music Performance Research Centre (now Music Preserved) and a widely admired producer of audio documentaries on classical musicians. For Spahr’s restorations on Beecham Conducts Sibelius, he produced a 30-minute audio documentary. MusicWeb International declared it “an unmissable disc [that] walks straight into a position of eminence in the catalogue”.
Henselt & Bronsart: Piano Concertos / Paul Wee, Collins, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
After three solo recordings, virtuoso pianist Paul Wee brings us two forgotten concertos from the Romantic period with the Swedish Chamber Orchestra conducted by Michael Collins.
Premièred by Clara Schumann under the baton of Felix Mendelssohn, Adolph von Henselt’s Concerto in F minor was eventually performed by the greatest virtuosos of the 19th and 20th centuries. It has, however, inexplicably disappeared from the repertoire despite its obvious qualities: soaring melodies and tender lyricism, colorful orchestration, dramatic intensity across its three movements and piano writing of astounding inventiveness and brilliance.
The familiarity between Henselt’s concerto and some of Sergei Rachmaninoff's works can be explained by the profound influence that the German composer exerted on the Russian. Hans von Bronsart’s Concerto in F sharp minor did not enjoy the same public acclaim, although it is rousing, intimate and electrifying in turns. The richness of its orchestration is matched by an uncommonly brilliant piano part that is a model of practical virtuosity. Breathing late-Romanticism, it requires a soloist to embrace its superheated Romantic language unashamedly if its passions are to take flight.
REVIEWS:
Paul Wee’s fingers dance with clarity and delight around the keyboard. He and the Swedish Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Michael Collins, have an excellent rapport.
— BBC Music Magazine
There is no question that Wee and his cohorts do a tremendous job in bringing these works to life. Wee has warmth and a Romantic stain that encompasses steel along with the requisite limpid lyricism and sparkling decoration. In short, Wee is a pianist you need to hear, whatever the context.
— Limelight
American in Paris (An) / Porgy and Bess Suite / Gershwin in Hollywood
Humperdinck: Music for the Stage / Salvi, Malmo Opera Orchestra
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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)
Rode: Violin Concertos, Vol. 3 / Eichhorn, Pasquet, Jena Philharmonic
Review:
Make no mistake, Friedmann Eichhorn is one of the most remarkably gifted violinists of our time, a fact made clear by this cycle of Pierre Rode’s concertos. Born in Bordeaux in 1774, Rode’s life as a touring virtuoso violinist was of mixed fortunes, eventually dying in obscurity at the age of fifty-six. As a composer he wrote almost exclusively for the violin, including thirteen concertos, though all budding students of the instrument will recognise his name for his pieces to develop technique. The Seventh concerto found a place in the repertoire well into the early 20th century, but all others had already been long forgotten. Yet this disc is full of those audience pleasing melodies that you will find in Paganini’s popular concertos, the mix of lyric attractions, with outrageous demonstrations of virtuosity made all the more demanding by Rode’s mercurial decoration of the melody. All three works on the present release require extensive use of spiccato, and I have never heard such micro-second accuracy as Eichhorn achieves, each note sparkling like a perfectly cut diamond. Then for aspiring virtuosos, just try that at Eichhorn’s pianissimos and then you will have perfect bow control. Never sounding hurried, his tempos are still electrifying, and just to add a final degree of brilliance, Eichhorn provides more technical hurdles with his own cadenzas that are perfectly in keeping with Rode’s style.
-- David Denton, Naxos
A Cello Galaxy of British Women Composers
Haydn: Oratorios / Spering, Schuldt-Jensen
The Creation

Although The Creation is no stranger to period-instrument performance, two in particular spring to mind as particularly outstanding. The first of these is Christopher Hogwood's on L'Oiseau-Lyre, which is in English and remains the only version to assemble the huge forces for which Haydn actually wrote, with singularly thrilling results. Second, there is Hengelbrock on Deutsche Harmonia Mundi, who demonstrated that at least on recordings the music can sound just as big and colorful, but without extensive doubling of instrumental parts. In his version of The Seasons, René Jacobs accomplished a similar feat, and so does this newcomer, even outdoing Hengelbrock in wringing every last drop of color from Haydn's perennially fresh orchestration. All of the other period performances, including Brüggen, Weil, Harnoncourt (twice), Kuijken, and Gardiner, stand at some remove from these three.
Andreas Spering has a lot going for him right from the beginning: crack vocal and instrumental forces, a strong lineup of soloists, and an excellent German radio production that sounds fabulous...This account of Chaos must stand as the most creepy and desolate on disc, the music still truly revolutionary and modern even at this late date. Spering takes time to make every detail tell: the sudden brass interjections, the startling clarinet run leading to the recapitulation, the muted strings and soloistic writing for timpani. Spering rightly treats the piece Romantically, allowing plenty of opportunities for rhetorical emphasis, as at the thrilling eruption of light and the ensuing recitative, taken a bit slower and more grandly than usual. But there's nothing mannered or unduly exaggerated: everything is dictated by the sense of the text. The chorus obviously relishes the words and sings as though they really mean something.
There are too many outstanding details to list completely. The concluding choruses of all three parts combine blazing brass with exceptional contrapuntal clarity. Sunhae Im and Hanno Müller-Brachmann make a charming Adam and Eve. The latter hasn't the steadiest of baritone voices, particularly in his lower register (as I noted in his recent recording of Bach's B minor Mass for Naxos), but he does surprisingly well in Raphael's big Part 2 aria "Nun scheint in vollem Glanze der Himmel", and tenor Jan Kobow turns in an excellent "In Native Worth" (as it's known in English). Spering somehow manages to play the living daylights out of the great duet with chorus at the center of Part 3, which Tovey called the greatest single movement that Haydn ever wrote, without making an anti-climax out of the following Adam and Eve duet and the big closing ensemble, with its dazzling coloratura "Amens". In short, from just about every possible standpoint, this is as fine a performance of this work as I hope to hear, one that at every turn reveals the miraculously undying youthfulness of Haydn's inspiration. Now on to the The Seasons, please!
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Il ritorno di Tobia (The Return of Tobias)
A welcome addition … worthy to set alongside the other great achievements of Haydn’s middle period.
This is a real find and a welcome addition to the Naxos catalogue. Haydn is justifiably famous for his oratorios The Seasons and The Creation. The latter has been recorded by these artists for Naxos to great acclaim. Now Andreas Spering and his Capella Augustina have unearthed Haydn’s first, all but forgotten oratorio, The Return of Tobias. The apocryphal subject of Tobias and the angel was extraordinarily popular in Haydn’s Vienna when he was composing this work, and he chose to home in on the section of the story when Tobias (Tobia) returns from his long absence from home and, with the help of his friend Asaria, aka the Archangel Raphael in disguise, cures his father’s blindness. Haydn takes this as an opportunity to create an oratorio which, while not as pacy or fast-moving as The Seasons and The Creation, contains much of beauty, and some very virtuosic singing for both chorus and soloists. Popular as the Tobias legend was in 1775, however, it quickly fell out of favour. It was furthermore felt that Haydn’s oratorio was too long (nearly 3 hours) and difficult to be easily revived so it fell out of favour and has barely been heard since. Length is less of an issue when you listen at home and, thankfully, the artists involved here make this difficult score seem all but effortless.
The first accolades have to go to the young soloists. We might hope that Nikolay Borchev would have sounded a little more weighty as Tobit, the blind father, but he brings pathos and sympathy to what could have seemed a dry character. His opening aria, Ah tu m’ascolta, oh Dio appropriately invokes sympathy for a man who seems to have lost all sympathisers on earth. Similarly Anders J. Dahlin is perhaps less forthcoming than we would expect from the hero of the story, but he brings a wonderfully mellifluous tone to the character of Tobias himself, from his first aria upon his return to his parental home, until the final miracle when his father is healed. The outstanding contributions, however, come from the three women soloists. Anna, Tobias’ aged mother, is characterfully sung by Ann Hallenberg. Her rich, fruity mezzo is perfect for the tone of despair the character needs at the opening, and she lightens her tone admirably when the mood of the piece turns more joyful in Part 2. Listen to her exciting opening aria (CD1, Track 4) and you will see how Haydn can create instant interest in the character, as well as how seemingly easily Hallenberg copes with it. Her nightmare aria is Part 2 is thrilling. Sophie Karthäuser tailors her tone to handle Tobias’ virtuous and dutiful wife, Sara. Most admirable of all, however, is Roberta Invernizzi, singing the role of Raphael. The angel is given appropriately difficult, often stratospheric music and Invernizzi sings it with flawless coloratura and effortless command of the technique.
The chorus seems totally convinced by this work and they throw themselves into their parts as if they were singing opera, which it often feels like they are. Two moments to watch out for: their fugal chorus that ends Part One is particularly exciting, and their stormy Part 2 chorus, Svanisce in un momento was resurrected by Haydn as his concert motet Insanae et vanae curae. The Capella Augustina, a period ensemble founded by Andreas Spering himself, plays this music as if it were written for it, and the chamber textures that Haydn is fond of using sound perfectly judged. Listen to Sarah’s Part 2 aria, Non parmi esser fra gl’uomini for a good example of how well orchestra and soloists blend. Spering holds the whole thing together with assured control, but also a sense of spontaneity, as if the music is unfolding in precisely the correct manner. This CD is a welcome addition to the catalogue, and something worthy to set alongside the other great achievements of Haydn’s middle period. Three cheers to Naxos for choosing to give it such a distinguished outing on CD. The booklet contains commentary, synopsis and Italian texts, but no translations.
-- Simon Thompson, MusicWeb International
Saint-Saens: Complete Piano Works Vol 2 / Geoffrey Burleson
SAINT-SAËNS Allegro after the Third Concerto. Suite, op. 90. Allegro appassionato, op. 70. Thème varié, op. 97. 6 Fugues, op. 161 • Geoffrey Burleson (pn) • GRAND PIANO 605 (53:38)
The piano works of Saint-Saëns are some of the forgotten gems in the pianist’s possible repertoire. Being that the composer was one of the finest pianists in the second half of the 19th century, not only is the music well written for the instrument, it is, at its best, some of the composer’s most finessed and engaging. The current program features pieces written throughout the composer’s career, from the virtuosic transcription of the concerto movement and the Thème varié —both written for piano contests—to the more lighthearted and neoclassical suite. In general, Saint-Saëns’s music necessitates a virtuosic technique; he requires the pianist to maintain lucid textures, careful pedaling, sparkling passagework, and meticulous attention to articulation. In general, Geoffrey Burleson does an admirable job handling all of the many inherent difficulties of this music—just a quick glance at the theme and variations is enough to scare most pianists. What feels right about this program, moreover, is that the pieces are arranged in a way that makes one feel that one is listening to a recital, rather than just a second installment of the complete piano works of this composer. (This volume is just that. The first in the series was reviewed by Lynn René Bayley in Fanfare 35:6.)
The hyper-virtuosic Allegro, op. 29, opens the program. Though Burleson becomes a bit too heavy in some instances and dry in others (a little more pedal here and there might have helped in bringing out details of shifted orchestration on the piano) one can hardly complain about such a fine reading otherwise. The suite, while lighter in mood, contains some very fine moments, from the improvisatory-sounding Prelude to the lively and bouncy Gavotte. Burleson obviously relishes this little masterpiece. The real stars of this program for me, however, are the Thème varié and the fugues. Burleson does a fine job of maintaining a feeling of pulse throughout the entire op. 97, from the simple chorale theme to the more complex figuration in the variations—double notes, arpeggios, octaves, leaps, and the like! The pianist (who is also the author of some fine booklet notes) describes the Six Fugues, op. 161, as “a suite of dynamic character pieces.” I couldn’t agree more. Though one can play them as simple academic etudes, whether studies in composition or instrumental technique, Burleson shows them to be true musical masterpieces, from the quasi-prelude first, through the sprightly and lively third, to the longest and climactic final one. Indeed, performing them as a set just makes sense here. And with performances of these fugues as engaging as the music itself, one can only hope that this release may spur more pianists to play this music. As there is little competition in this repertoire, I am surely glad to add such a fine release to my collection. If you do not know this music, go out and grab this recording. Saint-Saëns is not one to disappoint.
FANFARE: Scott Noriega
Marten Falk - The History of the Russian Guitar, Vol. 2