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SaleBaermann: Clarinet Quintets / Graaf, Schubert Consort Netherlands
Brilliant Classics · Mar 2024CD$12.99$9.99 -
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SaleBoellmann, Widor & d'Indy: French Cello Sonatas, Vol. 2 / Tarasova, Sokolov
Brilliant Classics · Jul 2023CD$21.99$16.99
Debussy: Images / Markl, Lyon NO
DEBUSSY Images. Pour le piano: Sarabande (orch. Ravel). Danse (orch. Ravel). Marche écossaise. La plus que lente • Jun Märkl, cond; Lyon Natl O • NAXOS 8.572296 (59:45)
This is the third volume in a series of Debussy’s orchestral music from the Lyon orchestra under its young German conductor; I haven’t heard the other two, but on this evidence I want to.
Images gets off to a good start with a Gigues of smooth, rounded, refined sonorities—little or no hint here of those tangy, fruity, acidic French orchestral timbres of a bygone era (still well in evidence in, e.g., Martinon’s EMI Debussy recordings of the 1970s). Rhythmic and dynamic detail is sharply observed. Phrases are beautifully shaped, with plenty of breathing space, building impressively to the tragic climax.
Ibéria is absolutely first-rate, displaying a masterly integration of the work’s many subtle tempo changes, in the service of Debussy’s incomparably atmospheric evocations: e.g., in “Par les rues et par les chemins,” the transition from sun-drenched glitter to the mysterious, unsettlingly shadowy world of the central part. “Les parfums de la nuit” is taken slowly (9:18; compare Boulez’s briskly efficient 7:30), with beautifully swung habanera rhythms. “Le matin d’un jour de fête” relishes to the full both the majestic, dazzling luminosity of the movement’s outer sections and the quirky eccentricity of its central adventures. I don’t know if Jun Märkl is a string player by training, but throughout he achieves an amazing variety of string sounds and articulations reminiscent of the great string-playing maestros of the past—above all, Monteux, and his classic 1963 version with the LSO (Philips). Listen to the extraordinary care Märkl lavishes over such details such as the violas’ taking over the ostinato in the central nocturnal procession of “Par les rues” ( léger et rythmé , and suddenly rather sinister-sounding in its new surroundings); the darkly delicate swaying of the divided violas’ and cellos’ introduction of the sinuous habanera in “Les parfums”; or the electrifying crescendos of the “giant guitar” effect in “Le matin.”
The performance of Rondes de printemps is spacious and finely detailed, holding tempo and power in reserve for an exciting quickening of the pulse in the coda.
All in all, these Images easily stand comparison to the best of the digital era. They come across as less self-conscious than Rattle/City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (EMI, with the British maestro’s characteristically imaginative drawing of detail—in Gigues , for instance, chillier northern mists, and a stronger sense of mounting desperation). On the other hand, they sound more emotionally engaged than Boulez/Cleveland (DG, in a gorgeously nuanced sonic tapestry dispatched with cool, patrician elegance).
Märkl lavishes just as much care on the short pieces, from the gorgeous kaleidoscope of marble tints in Ravel’s orchestration of the Sarabande to the swirling mists of the Marche écossaise, whose engaging Celtic camp conceals many touches of real Debussyan harmonic alchemy. The sinuous rubato of La Plus que lente ’s slow waltz (complete with exotically twanging cimbalom) is teased out to the manner born.
The recording is resonant and spacious, a natural concert hall balance with outstanding perspective and depth, and no artificial highlighting of detail. This conductor/orchestra partnership is clearly something out of the ordinary, and I’ll be watching for more from them. At the price, the disc is a terrific bargain, whether you’re a newcomer to these pieces or a seasoned collector of multiple versions.
FANFARE: Boyd Pomeroy
Baermann: Clarinet Quintets / Graaf, Schubert Consort Netherlands
New recordings of early-Romantic quintets by the supreme clarinet virtuoso of his day, an inspiration to Weber and Mendelssohn but also an accomplished composer in his own right.
Heinrich Baermann's career took off once he met Carl Maria von Weber in 1811. Weber was immediately taken with the French-accented brilliance and German richness of tone which Baermann drew from his instrument, and began to write a series of works – including two concertos and a concertino – which still rank among his most inspired instrumental pieces, as well as defining a new sound and reach for the clarinet as a solo instrument The clarinet, now thanks to Baermann, could take on multiple roles, as leader, jester, and magus-like figure to complement the likes of Paganini on the violin and Giuliani on the guitar.
Weber pushed Baermann’s technique to new heights of facility and eloquence, which in return inflected Baermann’s own works for his instrument with comparable ambition. He wrote three quintets for clarinet and string ensemble, the first of them more concerto-like in character, the latter two full-scale chamber works. They have been recorded complete only once before, making this new album from a fine team of Dutch musicians all the more welcome.
Especially impressive are the slow movements of the quintets, cast as arias without words in order to capitalize on the fluid legato of Baermann’s playing, but formed with an economy of means which leaves their themes lingering in the mind’s ear. The Adagio of the Op. 23 Quintet was misattributed to Richard Wagner for many years, which speaks for Baermann’s craftsmanship, even if its harmonic language evidently belongs to a generation or two after Mozart. Now restored to its rightful place, the Adagio is the crown jewel, but there are treasures in store throughout Baermann’s clarinet quintets.
Rheinberger: Works For Violin And Organ / Most, Ziener
There is a good deal of Biedermeier charm in these two works, but that is only one of its constituent elements. At its core, it is made of sterner stuff. The Six Pieces for Violin and Organ, op. 150, masquerades as a Baroque suite. Its opening movement is a stylized French overture, which provides one of the piece’s finest moments, in Rheinberger’s aforementioned synthesis of Baroque and Romantic languages. Unlike how they would have been handled by the great Baroque masters, the following movements—Pastorale, Gigue, Elegie, Abendlied, and Theme and Variations—the liner notes claim, “do not have any real interconnection, either thematically or with regard to key.” The implication is that we have a handful of pretty genre pieces and not much more. I respectfully disagree. There are subtle thematic and harmonic links throughout these pieces, and some of them—the Pastorale and especially the Elegy—are achingly beautiful in their inconsolable melancholy. The second work, Suite for Violin and Organ, op. 166, is more closely reasoned. Its opening Preludium evokes the world of Bach. The following Canzone takes us into the worlds of Schubert and Brahms, although there is also a Brucknerian quality in its austerity and in its ability to make time stand still, qualities that also characterize the following Allemande with its Brahmsian trio section. The final Moto perpetuo is based on the same harmonic progression that underpins the whole suite, and it puts the violinist to the test—one that she passes with flying colors.
Violinist Line Most’s intonation is impeccable, and her tone production is ravishing. Organist Marie Ziener, playing the fine organ of David’s Church, Copenhagen (Marcussen & Son, 1980) is with her hand-in-glove. The recorded balances in this tricky repertoire are beyond reproach."
William Zagorski, FANFARE
Easy-Listening Piano Classics: Bach
Small Treasures
Dvorak: Piano Quartets / Sucharova-Weiser, Vlach Quartet
DVO?ÁK Piano Quartets: in D, op. 23; in E?, op. 87 • Members of the Vlach Quartet; Helena Suchárová-Weiser (pn) • NAXOS 8572159 (71: 11)
In the history of chamber-music-ensemble configurations, the piano quartet is a relative newcomer to the scene. The first such works are believed to have been written by Mozart in response to a commission from composer-publisher Anton Hoffmeister. His first, in G Minor, appeared in 1785, and a second, in E? Major, followed in 1786, but not before Hoffmeister, who was expecting string quartets, had expressed his displeasure and released Mozart from further obligation. Around this same time, however, a teenaged Beethoven, still living under his parents’ roof in Bonn, also penned three piano quartets (see Fanfare 33:2 for further details). Whether he came upon the same idea as Mozart simultaneously but independently, or the light bulb went on when he heard Mozart’s quartets during a visit to Vienna in 1787, remains unknown. What is known, or strongly believed, is that before Mozart and Beethoven, the piano quartet did not exist. For all of his string quartets and piano trios, Haydn never made the leap, nor, as far we know, did anyone else.
It seemed like a really good idea—better than a string quartet in not being so treble oriented with two violins, and better than a piano trio in not sacrificing the alto viola string voice. Yet, for some reason, the piano quartet never caught on like its older siblings, and even among those composers who did make the effort—Weber (1), Mendelssohn (3), Marschner (2), Schumann (1), Theodor Kirchner (1), Dvo?ák (2), Brahms (3), Fauré (2), Enescu (2), Martin? (1), Walton (1), Bridge (2), Copland (1), Turina (1), and one or two others—the results are not generally cited at the top of their best works lists (except perhaps in the cases of Brahms and Fauré). Moreover, the number of piano quartets written following Mozart and Beethoven pales in comparison to the number of string quartets and piano trios.
Dvo?ák tried his hand at the medium twice, once in 1875, and again in 1889. Dvo?ák is a composer I periodically fall in and out of love with; currently, I think I’m in one of my not so loving phases. As I’ve had occasion to say before, his predisposition to prolixity seems to present itself in inverse proportion to the interest and sustainability of his musical material. In simple terms, the less he had to say, the longer he went on about it—not unlike some of my reviews. The D-Major Quartet is an excellent example. At 34-and-a-half minutes, it’s only two minutes shorter than its E?-Major companion, but one must take into account that the earlier work is in only three movements, compared to the more standard four-movement layout of its sibling. To be sure, the piece has some charming Czech-inflected melodies and lovely moments, but in between is much that would have ended up on the cutting room floor if Brahms had been the editor. The most memorable movement is the Andantino con variazioni, in which Dvo?ák spins a number of very imaginative variations over a plaintive, dumka-like theme.
The E?-Major Quartet is a much more tightly constructed work, and its movements are more proportionally balanced. Dvo?ák’s writing is also bolder, more assured, and more technically demanding, especially of the pianist. By this time, the composer had learned there was more to the art of thematic development than simply padding a piece with filler. The Lento, in the hideous key for the strings of G? Major (six flats), is clearly indebted to Brahms for its melodic outlines, harmonic vocabulary, and keyboard figuration. This is not your Dvo?ák of the dumka-colored slow movement. The Allegro moderato, grazioso is also not Dvo?ák’s typical high-spirited scherzo. It’s more of a waltz, and anyone really familiar with the composer’s work will instantly recognize the opening strain (after the introductory chords) as being almost identical to the fourth item in the set of Romantic Pieces, op. 75. Only with the last movement do we finally get the ruddy-cheeked Czech peasant dance that is so characteristic of Dvo?ák’s music.
These are excellent performances from members of the Vlach Quartet joined by pianist Helena Suchárová-Weiser, thoroughly idiomatic, as one might expect from this venerable Czech ensemble, and an excellent recording made at the Lobkowitz Palace, Prague, in 2008. Surprisingly, there isn’t as much competition as one might expect, at least not that couples both piano quartets on the same disc. Two that have long occupied favored status in my collection—one with the disbanded Domus on Hyperion, and the other with the Ames Piano Quartet on Dorian—are both still listed. But they are also both full-priced albums, and I wouldn’t argue that either holds a significant edge over this budget-priced Naxos disc. If you don’t already have one or more versions of Dvo?ák’s two piano quartets on your shelf, this is a sure bet for when you’re in one of your own Dvo?ák-loving phases.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
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These captivating performances are a salutary reminder that, while Dvo?ák's chamber music is readily accessible to musicians and listeners alike, it uniquely blossoms when performed by native Czech performers - and, as we shall see, by their well-trained fellow-travelers - who bring it an intuitive sense of expressive phrasing and an understanding of its various components.
The D major quartet's opening theme, the first thing we hear, underscores the point. It includes a hiccough of a syncopation: hit it too hard, and it impedes the motion; underplay it, and it's just a distraction. These players articulate it within the overall arch of the phrase, so the rhythmic gesture intensifies the forward impulse as it should.
Such felicities abound in these performances. The players launch all the cantabile phrases with a sure sense of their broad, arching shape. The waltzlike passages - the 6/8 variations of the D major's central movement, the Allegretto scherzando of its Finale, and the third movement of the E-flat - go with a lovely lilt and swing, and carry an authentic, open-hearted lyricism.
The D major quartet is formally rather interesting. It begins with a fully-fledged Allegro moderato sonata movement, fifteen minutes long. There follows a lovely eleven-minute Andantino with five variations. The seven-minute Finale begins with the brief Allegretto scherzando cited before heading into an Allegro agitato, thus encompassing elements of both a scherzo and a conventional finale. The structure looks as off-balance in the track-listing as it undoubtedly sounds in this description, but in fact the two latter movements constitute a plausible counterweight to the first. The four-movement E-flat quartet shows Beethoven's influence. The themes are no less fetching than in the earlier work, but they lend themselves more readily to "symphonic" working-out and development, and the whole leaves an impression of greater weight and importance.
Of the players, I was particularly taken by cellist Mikael Ericcson - who, I imagine, is probably not a native Czech - whose dusky, deep tone provides special pleasure on the numerous melodic phrases the composer supplies. At the piano, Helena Suchárová-Weiser spins out pearly, articulate passagework with full tonal weight and "support", and her well-balanced chords ring out. Violinist Jana Vlachová never quite soars as one wants; her tone is thinner and her articulation less meticulous than ideal. But she's a stylish and effective player, and violist, Karel Stadtherr, produces a tone sufficiently darker than hers to render their sounds easily distinguishable.
The engineers capture just enough hall resonance to enhance the beautiful playing, but not so much as to obscure it. One would have expected to find this sort of release on an expensive, imported Supraphon disc, where it still would have been a must-buy; at Naxos prices, it's absolutely a steal.
-- Stephen Francis Vasta, MusicWeb International
Martinu: Cello Sonatas / Lazeri, Boldrini
Each one of Bohuslav Martinu’s (1890-1959) three cello sonatas belongs to a significant period or event in his life. Composed in May 1939, the first seems indelibly marked by the tension and anxiety which gripped Europe in the months before war broke out, though the composer was also going through a crisis in his personal life, having lately had an intense extramarital affair with Vítezslava Kaprálová, a young composer and conductor. The First Sonata is a tense and often angry work, even in its brooding central movement, and the mood carries over into the beginning of the Second , which was one of the first works completed by Martinu after his emigration to the US with his wife and children. This was another period of stress and homesickness, which may be heard in the Czech character of the melodies growing stronger during the sonata’s course, until the finale synthesises old and new worlds with a fusion of jazz and Bohemian folk melody. Like much of Martinu’s later music such as the last symphony and The Greek Passion, the Third Sonata of 1952 is more elusive – often almost naïve in character, and finding release in a neoclassical gigue which perhaps symbolises the composer coming to terms with a homeland whose soil he would never again touch. Many cellists of distinction have been attracted to these compact but challenging works, and audiences with them. Rivera Lazeri is an Italian cellist at home in the world of new music, partnered here by a pianist, David Boldrini, who has made critically acclaimed Brilliant Classics albums of music by Cimarosa and Czerny, among others.
American Classics - Harris: Complete Piano Music / Burleson
None of the pieces on this disk could be claimed to be major works but there are some very attractive and interesting things nonetheless. The two sets of American Ballads use folk-tunes, such as The Streets of Laredo and When Johnny Comes Marching Home, and are delightful suites with some nice quirky turns of phrase. In feel they are reminiscent of Barber’s Excursions for piano and would enrich any recital of modernish piano music. The early Sonata is a tersely argued work in four succinct movements, and it’s easy to see why the original scherzo wouldn’t have fitted into Harris’s scheme of things. The Piano Suite is another strong work; the first movement is bold and brassy, demonstrative and forthright, the middle movement pensive and the finale a French flavoured gigue.
For the rest we have six miniatures. The Toccata contains elements of both the headlong rush you’d expect from such a work, and short reflective interludes. The Variations on an American Folksong, True Love Don’t Weep starts in a most serious manner, becomes lighter then just as you think it’s going somewhere it stops! Untitled is, I believe, the earliest piece we know by Harris and it’s very strange, questing and angular, almost tuneless and imbued with an otherworldly feel. Little Suite is fun, this could almost be a teaching piece. A Happy Piece for Shirley is a delightful tribute. Orchestrations, a strange title for a solo piano piece, especially from someone as adept at orchestration as Harris, is very serious and profound.
Whilst most of these works have been recorded before, it’s good to have them collected together on one disk, and although none of them can claim pretensions to be a lost masterpiece, they are more than mere chippings off the block of genius. The performances have an air of authority about them and the recording is clean and clear. The notes, if not exhaustive, are helpful. Essential for anyone investigating the Symphonies which Naxos is in the process of recording and there are works here which pianists should be investigating when seeking something piquant for their recitals.
-- Bob Briggs, MusicWeb International
Boellmann, Widor & d'Indy: French Cello Sonatas, Vol. 2 / Tarasova, Sokolov
Leon Böellmann (1862-1897) was born in the Alsatian town of Ensisheim. He moved to Paris after the Franco-Prussian War after which Alsace became part of Germany. In Paris, he studied organ, piano and composition at the Classical Music School, graduating from it with honors. After graduation, he worked as a teacher at school. His compositions brought him considerable recognition, and he would almost certainly have made a bigger name for himself if he had not died at the young age of 35. Presented on this album is his remarkable Cello Sonata Op. 40, hailing from the late French Romantic period.
The Cello Sonata Op. 80 in A major of 1907, by Charles-Marie Widor (1844–1937), is a grandiose work consisting of three movements with a magnificent introduction, foreshadowing a sonata full of ideas. When comparing the cello part with other sonatas of the period, a cellist feels that Widor cared little for technical constraints. Due in part to the use of huge intervals, the cello part matches the piano part for virtuosity. The sonata’s premiere was given by Jules Lebeau and the composer on 14 March 1907 at the salon of Madame Max, who also offered Widor’s Violin Sonata Op. 79 in the same program.
Vincent d’Indy (1851–1931) was a French composer and organist, conductor and teacher, music critic, publicist and meaningful public figure. He lived a long and active live throughout at least three epochs of French history. He is considered the greatest representative of the César Frank School of composition. His Sonata for Cello and Piano Op.84 was written in 1925 when d’Indy was over 70 years old. His style had undergone significant changes in the years following his retirement and move from Paris to the south of France, where he composed a series of works generally in a bright and cheerful mood. Despite its name, this Sonata in fact takes the form of a Baroque suite. The opening movement (Entrée) is elegant and charming. This is followed by a Gavotte in Rondo, in which pizzicato in the cello is used to evoke the lute. The third part (titled "Air") is characterized by a soft and melancholic mood. The finale (Gigue) is a lively updated form of this baroque dance.
RACHMANINOV: PIANO SONATA NO. 2