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Klughardt: Lenore - Symphonic Poem, Op. 27; Gernsheim: At A Drama / Mayrhofer, Anhaltische Philharmonic
Sterling Records · Aug 2013CD$20.99 -
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Rachmaninoff: Symphonies & Orchestral Music / Lan Shui, Singapore Symphony
BIS · Feb 2021SACD$44.99 -
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Francaix: The Music for Solo Piano, Duo & Duet
FRANÇAIX Scherzo. 5 Portraits de jeunes filles. Eloge de la danse. Piano Sonata. 5 Encores. Danse des 3 Arlequins. 8 Variations. Nocturne. 3 Equisses sur les touches blanches. La Promenade d’un Musicologue Eclectique. De la Musique avant tout chose. Pour Jacqueline. Si Versailles m’etait conté. Scuola di Ballo. 1 8 Danses exotiques. 1 15 Portraits d’enfants d’Auguste Renoir. 2 Napoléon 2 • Martin Jones, 1 Richard McMahon, 2 Adrian Farmer (pn) • NIMBUS NI 5880/2 (3 CDs: 19:05)
Had Jean Françaix been born a decade or so earlier, we would be referring to Les Sept rather than Les Six. As it was, the French-polished and long-lived composer (1912–97) followed in the footsteps of his slightly older confrères, particularly Poulenc, in typifying the French style of his era: witty, light-hearted, and insouciant. Françaix’s music derives from the bouncy rhythms and diatonic melodies of French folk music, but mixes in the vulgarity of the boulevard, the harmonic asperity of Stravinsky, and an occasional hint of 1920s jazz, all done with assured craftsmanship. While many of his concertos have been recorded—the best-known are the sprightly Piano Concertino (1932) and the Clarinet Concerto—Françaix’s output for solo piano has not. The only previous recordings I discovered are by Annette Middlebeek on a hard-to-find Koch disc from 2001, and another from 2008 by Nicole Narboni on the obscure label CDBY, which I have never heard of. (The latter recital is intriguingly promoted as “Narboni on Food, Felines, Fathers, and Jean Françaix.”) I did not manage to do any comparative listening—my order of the Koch disc failed to materialize by deadline— but in any case this new Nimbus set trumps both in terms of completeness alone.
Although Françaix was an expert orchestrator, probably more skilled than Poulenc, whose Story of Babar the Elephant he arranged for orchestra, the younger composer first made his mark as a pianist. He continued to play throughout his life, not only his own works but also music by other composers, often teaming with the cellist Maurice Gendron. Many of his compositions involve piano, and I notice a three-disc set of chamber music with the composer at the piano is scheduled to be released late in 2012 (this being the year of Françaix’s centenary, of course).
Meanwhile, we have the indefatigable Martin Jones to bring us up to speed on the keyboard works. The set opens with the early, mostly staccato Scherzo, a favorite of the composer that he played often, and it shows him at his most deft in its clarity and harmonic sleight of hand. The Scherzo sets the tone for the rest of the program and is tossed off with perfect élan here by Jones. Françaix preferred miniatures, and many of the larger works are in fact suites made up of several short movements. Some, such as the oddly titled Promenade d’un Musicologue Eclectique , are composed of tributes to other composers such as Chopin, Ravel, and Adam. Françaix always sounds like himself, but Ravel was clearly a major influence along with Chabrier and, to some extent, Satie. We might expect a work titled Piano Sonata to be more serious in tone but that expectation is quickly dashed; the first movement scampers off like a French poodle. (The same thing happens in the composer’s one symphony.) The sonata’s second movement (Elégie) features an Impressionistic bell-like accompaniment. Timing is one of the composer’s finest assets: Nothing outstays its welcome, and just as one might be tiring of high spirits a pensive moment of lyricism comes along, like the lovely “La Tendre” in the Five Portraits of Young Girls suite. The gentle Nocturne’s arpeggiated left hand registers like updated Fauré, and it is this piece, the composer’s final composition for solo piano (1994), that brings the first disc to a close.
In the duo and two-piano works Jones is joined by Richard McMahon or Adrian Farmer. The Eight Exotic Dances of 1957 draw on popular Latin and jazz forms. The final movement is titled Rock’n’roll but it is far more jazz than rock, a musical genre too earthy for the fastidious Françaix, I suspect. Napoléon and Si Versailles m’etait conté are two-piano arrangements of music from films, while Scuola di ballo is a ballet score from 1933, which, 30 years later, the composer reworked for himself and his daughter Claude to play. The resulting score is more elaborate than a mere reduction, as you will hear if you compare it to the orchestral version recorded by Thierry Fischer and the Ulster Orchestra (Hyperion). It draws on music by Boccherini in much the same way as Stravinsky reinterpreted Pergolesi in Pulcinella , and forms a joyous finale to the program.
Devotees of piano music and avowed completists owe a lot to Martin Jones, truly one of the finest of British pianists. For Nimbus he has recorded a good deal of Spanish music (including multiple discs of Mompou), a Czerny series, Szymanowski, and several others. He is a sparkling technician, but beyond that he always manages to sound utterly sympathetic in the music he chooses to record. His partners in this enterprise are equally at home; McMahon, for one, has a formidable reputation in duet work. Nimbus’s recording strikes me as perfect; as usual, there is air around the sound but it is never muddy, always crisp, and suits the piano to a T. While it may be asking too much to listen to the three discs straight through (though I did so without any ill effect, several times), this is undoubtedly a delightful set to dip into and certainly a significant addition to the catalog.
FANFARE: Phillip Scott
Hashimoto: Symphony No. 2 - 3 Wasan
CHOPIN ETUDES OP. 25 - 4 SCHERZI
CHOPIN ETUDES OP. 25 - 4 SCHERZI
Scherzi forastieri
Sergei Rachmaninoff: Transcriptions
Brahms: Sonatas for Violin and Piano
Boult Conducts Holst - Fugal Overture, Scherzo, Beni Mora, Etc

Adrian Boult brought tremendous authority to any recording he made of 20th century British works, having known the composers and often having conducted the premiere performances. These recordings, made in the early 1970s, demonstrate that age took not a bit of his musical command or energy on the podium. Boult was particularly associated with Gustav Holst (he conducted the public premiere of The Planets). Since this compilation presents some of the crown jewels of Lyrita's history, anyone with any interest in British music of the first third of the 20th century should consider this CD a mandatory acquisition. Beni-Mora is unusually picturesque and passionate; the Fugal Overture's wit and lyricism belies the impression of stodginess its title suggests; and the virtually unknown Japanese Suite charms and invigorates. The 30-year-old sound is still better--cleaner, clearer, and more natural--than most of the stuff major labels are putting out in standard CD sound today.
--Joseph Stevenson, ClassicsToday.com
Klughardt: Lenore - Symphonic Poem, Op. 27; Gernsheim: At A Drama / Mayrhofer, Anhaltische Philharmonic
KLUGHARDT Symphony No. 2, “Lenore” 1. GERNSHEIM Zu einem Drama 2 • 1 Manfred Mayrhofer, 2 Klaus Arp, cond; 1 Anhaltische PO; 2 SWR Kaiserlautern SO • STERLING 10962 (51:07)
This disc is a bit of an oddity with respect to the contents. While released only in 2012 and coming to me this year, the recordings on it were made respectively on October 14, 2002 (a live concert performance of the Klughardt) and July 6, 1995 (a studio recording of the Gernsheim). No explanation is provided as to why the issuance of either item was so long delayed. At any rate, these are world premiere recordings of two works by two significant but hitherto neglected German composers of the Romantic era, whose music has only in the last decade or so become somewhat better known. As I have approvingly reviewed previously issued discs of other works by both composers in these pages, I happily return to both of them again.
In 34:5 and 36:4 I favorably reviewed CDs of chamber music by August Klughardt (1847–1902): two different recordings of his Piano Quintet, coupled respectively to ones of his String Quartet and Piano Quintet. While noting that he became an avowed disciple of the Liszt/Wagner “New German School” after meeting Liszt (an event variously dated to either 1871 or 1873 in different sources; 1871 appears to be correct), the major influences on his chamber music were Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Brahms, with some Liszt thrown in at points for good measure. By contrast, in this Symphony, Klughardt’s allegiance to Liszt and Wagner—albeit the earlier Wagner of Rienzi and the scenes of pageantry in Tannhäuser and Lohengrin —is complete and self-evident.
The “Lenore” Symphony has a decidedly complicated background story. Klughardt worked on the score between 1871 and 1873, immediately upon first meeting Liszt. At this time he also met Joachim Raff, who was likewise identified with the New German School to the extent that he approved of and wrote program music. Unaware that Raff also was working on a symphony (his No. 5) based on the poetic ballad Lenore by Gottfried August Bürger (1747–1794), Klughardt discussed the poem with Raff and played portions of his draft score for him. Raff apparently said nothing to Klughardt and proceeded to finish and premiere his own work first. When Klughardt later became aware of Raff’s Symphony, he wrote Raff a letter in which he apologized to him for poaching on the latter’s turf. Moreover, he then published his own work as a symphonic poem rather than a symphony, though he continued to number it as a symphony in his personal catalog. This in turn has led to confusion among writers as to whether Klughardt wrote six or seven symphonies. To complicate the numbering of Klughardt’s symphonies further, there are: a) an unpublished early Symphony in F Minor, performed in 1871 but then withdrawn by the composer; and b) another Symphony in F Minor, dating from 1876, that was numbered and published as his Symphony No. 2. Thus, depending on who has counted what, this “Lenore” Symphony has been variously referred to as an unnumbered symphonic poem, Symphony No. 1, or Symphony No. 2.
The “Lenore” Symphony is cast in four movements, although the second and third ones are joined together such that they form one continuous movement and effectively reduce the total to three. The music follows the plot of the poem quite closely (Klughardt prefaces each movement with a quotation from the ballad). The young maiden Lenore anxiously awaits the return of her sweetheart Wilhelm, who has been fighting as a soldier in the army of King Frederick II of Prussia in the Seven Years’ War. The war has ended and soldiers are returning, jubilant, from the battlefield. When Wilhelm fails to appear, the distraught Lenore utters a blasphemous attack upon God, which causes all to withdraw from her in horror. Deserted, she suddenly hears a knock at the house door; she opens it and to her joy Wilhelm is there, clad in armor. He tells her that he has come to take her to their wedding bed; they mount his steed and gallop off. As they ride, the increasingly agitated Lenore asks her lover a series of questions, to which she receives increasingly cryptic and ominous replies. At their destination they dismount; Wilhelm now reveals his true form as a skeleton, and escorts Lenore to their wedding bed—the grave. Her wish is fulfilled, albeit not as she had hoped.
The first movement ( Heftig bewegt —Violently turbulent) represents the anxious vigil of Lenore. It opens with a dramatic, declamatory theme on the lower strings—one which recurs throughout the entire work—that sounds startlingly like the motif that Modest Mussorgsky later created to signify the brutal boyar Ivan Khovansky in his Khovanshchina . A contrasting lyrical second theme appears occasionally; I presume that this signifies Lenore’s love. The succeeding Scherzo is dominated by a brashly vulgar and raucous march tune, accompanied by loud percussion, depicting the triumphal parade of the returning soldiers. This segues without pause into the third movement ( Langsam, aber durchaus leidenschaftlich —Slow, but passionate throughout), which depicts Lenore’s despair and her blasphemous outburst with music of a gentle, sweet melodiousness that belies the putative subject matter. The Finale ( Mässig —Moderately) opens with a dotted eighth-note theme representing Lenore’s and Wilhelm’s ride, and then at various points recalls material from the previous movements, ending with the opening theme of the first movement transformed into a peaceful close in the major key.
The first time I listened to this piece, without having read the booklet notes in order to avoid creating any a priori prejudices, I was thrown for a loop and heartily disliked it, thinking it was a piece of ramshackle incompetence because the movements did not follow standard symphonic structures such as sonata or rondo forms. The second time I listened to it, after reading the booklet notes and re-approaching it instead as an extended symphonic poem (or as a symphony after the manner of the Dante and Faust symphonies of Liszt), it began to grow on me, and after several more hearings I have come to like it a great deal, admiring its unconventional boldness. Klughardt reported to friends that Wagner, the work’s dedicatee, said to him: “After reading through your symphony I must confess that I regard you as a notably gifted person: it is no small achievement to bring such a score to this world.” However, the booklet notes for one of the Klughardt chamber music CDs I previously reviewed state that Wagner rejected the dedication with the dismissive comment that he “perceived the whole merely as a study very much in need of correction in terms of style.” Whether only one or both of these is true, I cannot ascertain; I can only say I enjoy it thoroughly.
I have sung the praises of Friedrich Gernsheim (1839–1916) on several occasions, including a review in this issue of a disc of his symphonies Nos. 1 and 3. Zu einem Drama , his one other major orchestral work apart from his four symphonies, was composed in 1902 and published in 1910. Here, Gernsheim’s oft-noted close similarity to Brahms is quite evident; indeed, this work is a step-brother of Brahms’s Tragic Overture, not only musically but also thematically in that their titles do not point to any more specific programmatic content. Gernsheim’s work has its own distinctive traits, however; it is far more ambitious in scope, lasting almost 18 minutes as opposed to about 12 for the Tragic Overture, and the orchestration is more brilliant in a way that shows Gernsheim was not impervious to the music of Wagner and Richard Strauss. Laid out in a modified sonata form with contrasting interludes, it is a work of great substance and integrity that grows upon me with each new hearing.
The Anhaltische Philharmonie is based in Dessau, the city where Klughardt spent the last two decades of his life; the Kaiserlautern Symphony is located in the city of that name in the southern Rhineland, very close to Worms where Gernsheim was born and raised. Both orchestras play very well for their respective conductors, who are able interpreters. The recorded sound for both items is excellent; the hall in Dessau obviously has first-rate acoustics. A bit oddly, in the “Lenore” Symphony the audience noise between movements is neither edited down to a seamless transition nor left intact; instead, a few seconds of noise is left after each movement, followed by the sudden break of a silent interval between CD tracks. The very informative program notes for the “Lenore” Symphony are written by Klughardt scholar Alan Krueck; those for Gernsheim’s Zu einem Drama by the noted British music critic Malcolm MacDonald. If you are someone who is interested in exploring lesser-known 19th-century orchestral repertoire, this disc provides a most inviting portal into that realm; heartily recommended.
FANFARE: James A. Altena
Schubert: The Symphonies / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
It was only after his death that Franz Schubert’s symphonic works made an impact in music history. In fact, the first public performance of any of Schubert’s symphonies took place at a memorial concert held a few weeks after the composer had passed away, on 19th November 1828. The work that was heard at that occasion was Symphony No.6, D589, the ‘Little C major’, while the two undisputed master works of the series – the ‘Great C major’ and the ‘Unfinished’ – had to wait until 1838 and 1865, respectively, before being performed. The six symphonies that precede them in the list of completed works were all composed between 1813 and 1818, while Schubert was still only 21 years of age. In a style above all oriented on Haydn and Mozart, they are youthful in the best sense of the word and display a disarming freshness which the present performances convey to perfection.
The four discs gathered here were released singly between 2010 and 2014, receiving critical acclaim in the international music press: the reviewer in The Daily Telegraph (UK) described the experience as ‘having a layer of varnish removed from a much-loved painting’ while his colleague in Fanfare wrote that the approach by Thomas Dausgaard and the Swedish Chamber Orchestra ‘changes the landscape’, proposing that the cycle ‘could become a first choice among any available.’ The set also include some shorter orchestral works, among them the much-loved Rosamunde Overture.
Excerpts from reviews of previously released volumes included in this set:
Schubert: Symphonies Nos. 8 & 9 / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
Dausgaard somehow manages to approach the surviving two movements of Schubert's B minor Symphony as though we didn't all know that it remained 'unfinished. For once it was hard not to regret the absence of an energetic scherzo or finale.
-- BBC Music Magazine
Schubert: Symphony No. 6 / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
Dausgaard dexterously manages the internal balance within the orchestra. His pacing of the opening Adagio instills confidence, the line shaped by phrases stretched and contracted, dynamics thoughtfully graded, the interpretation of the whole work thoughtfully considered.
-- Gramophone
Schubert: Symphonies Nos. 3, 4 & 5 / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
Even if not in his mature style, and showing the influence of Rossini, as well as of Haydn and Mozart, they are pure Schubert, not least in harmony and scoring, and they stand up well to the high-powered approach of Dausgaard and the splendid Swedish Chamber Orchestra.
-- The Sunday Times (UK)
Schubert: Symphonies Nos. 1 & 2 / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
The definition and dynamism that these forces have been bringing to their Schubert symphony cycle are qualities that are radiantly replicated in the performances here.
-- Gramophone
Louis Lortie plays Chopin, Vol 1
The immensely respected French-Canadian virtuoso Louis Lortie celebrates the Chopin anniversary with an album of Nocturnes and Scherzos for solo piano. These works stretch the pianist’s technique in every possible way. This Canadian pianist has long had an association with Chandos, and is recognized as one of the finest interpreters of Chopin. He first recorded Chopin’s Études for Chandos more than 20 years ago; it was named as one of the ‘50 great performances by superlative pianists’ by BBC Music Magazine. Since then he’s enjoyed an exceptionally rich performing and recording career. He won First Prize in the Busoni Competition in 1984. He was also a prize-winner at the Leeds Competition. He’s been named an Officer of the Order of Canada, and a Knight of the National Order of Quebec.
Rachmaninoff: Symphonies & Orchestral Music / Lan Shui, Singapore Symphony
Sergei Rachmaninov was one of the twentieth century’s outstanding pianists, but the large body of purely orchestral music he composed is no less an expression of his musical character. His great strength was that he managed to preserve intact a vision he had discovered very early in life. This contemporary of Schoenberg, Scriabin, Ravel and Ives was unconcerned with musical fashions and had no wish to be a pioneer. Instead, and over a period of half a century he refined and deepened a language which derived naturally from his late-nineteenth-century Russian background.
With this four-disc box set, the Singapore Symphony Orchestra and Lan Shui present a comprehensive collection of Rachmaninov’s music for orchestra – from the Scherzo in D minor, his first surviving piece for orchestra, completed just before his fifteenth birthday to the canonical works: the Symphonies and the Symphonic Dances. The recordings were made between 2008 and 2015, with the three symphonies (previously released on separate albums) described as ‘eine formidable Gesamteinspielung’ on the website Pizzicato. But there is much more to Rachmaninov’s orchestral music besides the symphonies, and this box offers the listener opportunity to explore the young composer’s fascination with Gypsy themes (in the excerpts from the opera Aleko and Capriccio bohemien) as well as his lifelong preoccupation with death, in the form of the four notes of the Dies irae plainchant motif. This is heard again and again in Rachmaninov’s music, up until his very last work, the Symphonic Dances, where, at the very end of the third and final dance, this symbol of death is finally laid to rest.
REVIEWS:
It would be difficult to imagine a more compelling or indeed idiomatic account of the First Symphony than Shui’s...this is a first-rate set, with sound to match.
-- HiFi (UK)
Marcel Tyberg: Symphony No 3 / Piano Trio Falletta, Chuang, Ludwig
TYBERG Symphony No. 3. 1 Piano Trio 2 • 1 JoAnn Falletta, cond; Buffalo PO; 2 Michael Ludwig (vn); 2 Roman Mekinulov (vc); 2 Ya-Fei Chuang (pn) • NAXOS 8.572236 (60:51)
Don’t bother trying to find Tyberg in Grove , or in the six-volume Baker’s Biographical Dictionary , or in the 14th edition of the International Who’s Who in Music , or even in MGG ’s monumental 17-volume Personenteil , of which the volume with the Ts was published as recently as 2006. Until only about five years ago, Tyberg languished among the many forgotten names of music history, in particular among those of Jewish background who were sent to the death camps by the Nazis. Tyberg was only 1/16th Jewish, but he was deported anyway and died in late 1944 (the circumstances of his death remain unclear). But posthumous recognition is finally coming to this Austrian composer.
Shortly before he was arrested, Tyberg entrusted his scores to his friend Milan Mihich, who in turn gave them to his son Enrico. The latter eventually moved to Buffalo. For years he attempted to interest Buffalo Philharmonic conductors, among others, in Tyberg’s music. Rafael Kubelík expressed keen interest but died soon afterward. About half a dozen years ago, Tyberg’s scores caught the attention of JoAnn Falletta, and she programmed the Third Symphony with her Buffalo Philharmonic. The Tyberg Legacy Foundation was established in Buffalo at the Foundation for Jewish Philanthropies, and funding therefrom helped bring forth the Naxos recording we now have.
The Third Symphony, composed in the 1930s, received its world premiere by the BPO and Falletta on May 10, 2008, and the recording soon followed. (Falletta has also programmed Tyberg’s Second Symphony for performances on April 30 and May 1 of this year to coincide with Holocaust Memorial Day.)
The score is richly romantic, with strong echoes of Bruckner, Mahler, Zemlinsky, and Szymanowski. The huge orchestra requires quadruple woodwinds, heckelphone, eight horns (four doubling on tenor tubas), bass trumpet, contrabass trombone, two timpanists, and much more. It opens with a portentous call from a tenor horn heralding music of dark, Mahlerian angst (comparison with the opening of Mahler’s Seventh cannot be ignored). One almost immediately becomes aware that, like Mahler, Tyberg is going to use his orchestra as a vast palette of colors to play with. The second subject is as warmly romantic and gracious as the first was menacing and tortured. The D-Minor Scherzo has a Brucknerian drive and energy, thickly yet brilliantly orchestrated and with a virtuosic edge that recalls Dukas’s Sorcerer’s Apprentice as well. Shades of Bruckner hover also over the Adagio, which moves slowly and inexorably to its main climax. Its somber colors would have benefited from a warmer recording acoustic, but what is a small defect in this movement becomes an asset in the finale, a rollicking rondo whose main theme has the flavor of a saucy British sea shanty, tossed off in its initial presentation with virtuosic abandon by the Buffalo Philharmonic horns. The Philharmonic sustains the sense of high spirits and energy throughout the movement, indeed, throughout the entire symphony, though one cannot avoid the feeling that Tyberg might have left us a more convincing conclusion—the ending is simply too abrupt and unexpected.
The Piano Trio of 1936 is, if anything, even more engaging, filled as it is with big-boned, sumptuous themes and rich textures right out of Schumann, Brahms, Franck, and Tchaikovsky. Themes are masterfully worked out. One listens in disbelief to music composed in the age of Stravinsky and Satie, of Schoenberg and Berg, of Bartók and Messiaen, that is as accomplished as Tyberg’s yet so untouched by the fast-changing world around him—“as if he had truly lived a century before,” as Buffalo Philharmonic archivist Edward Yadzinski puts it in his fine booklet notes. Concertmaster Michael Ludwig and principal cellist Roman Mekinulov, joined by pianist Ya-Fei Chuang, deliver a performance that glows with passion and power. This disc is worth acquiring for either the symphony or the trio alone. Together they constitute an irresistible combination. This is definitely a Want List candidate.
More information on Tyberg can be found at Wikipedia and in an extensive article by Herman Trotter, music critic emeritus of the Buffalo News (reprinted on the website of the Jewish Music Institute). Readers are also referred to an interview in Fanfare 34:2 in which Falletta and Yadzinski disuss the Tyberg situation in some detail.
FANFARE: Robert Markow
How Marcel Tyberg's Third Symphony wound up in Buffalo is an interesting story, related in the booklet notes to this world-premiere recording. Tyberg (1893-1944) was a Jewish Viennese composer who died in Auschwitz in 1944 (as did several members of my own family--it's strange to think that they may have been there together). His Third symphony was composed in 1943, and it's a fine work, obviously in the Viennese tradition--sort of Wagner/Strauss with a Brahmsian structural overlay. It's colorful, uninhibited, perhaps a bit thickly scored, full of attractive melodic invention, and not a moment too long. For its date of composition it's a conservative work, but given the circumstances that hardly counts against it. JoAnn Falletta and her Buffalo forces do it proud: this is a bold, confident performance, excellently paced, that never suggests any unfamiliarity with what must have been a very unfamiliar work.
Tyberg's Piano Trio, from 1936, is even more stylistically reactionary, sounding like a typical example of mid-19th century Romanticism--but again, because it's the real thing and not a decadent relic it comes across simply as freshly melodious. Okay, it's not a masterpiece, but its three euphonious movements pass by very pleasingly, and like the symphony it's very well played (and recorded). Tyberg had a particular knack, both here and in the symphony, for creating vigorous rondo finales that never drag or sound tired, and if you know anything about late-Romantic finales then you know what a rare feat that is! There are many recordings of neglected composers around these days: this one deserves a greater claim on your attention (and purse) than most. It's a real find.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Scherzinger: African Math
Schubert & Haydn: String Quartets / Tetzlaff Quartett
This is particularly true of the Schubert, a work whose strange harmonies and endless tremolo textures foreshadow Bruckner, and which demand a particularly sensitive handling of the relationship between melody and accompaniment. The first movement relishes its quasi orchestral textures, but without ever letting us forget that this really is chamber music. In both of the outer movements tempos are particularly well judged, with the constant seesawing between major and minor in the finale producing a truly disturbing, almost queasy effect.
Haydn’s Quartet in G minor, Op. 20 (No. 3) makes an ideal disc mate, even leaving aside its complementary tonality. Its first movement, particularly, offers plenty of uneasy emotional ambiguity that’s very well captured here. Charles Rosen, in The Classical Style, presented a typically penetrating analysis, calling its handling of rhythm and motivic development positively upsetting; and in this interpretation the evident care with dynamics and sense of timing conveys the darkness just below the surface particularly well.
In short, this is a throwback: a classical music release without a stupid title or ridiculous concept, one that lets the greatness of the music speak for itself and offers interpretations that justify the program through purely musical means. Wonder of wonders. It deserves your support, and will reward your close attention. - ClassicsToday.com
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A MusicWeb International Recording of the Month!
Is there, I wonder, a greater string quartet than Schubert’s D.887, Beethoven’s notwithstanding? Certainly it is one of the most profound, moving and indeed disturbing works in that genre, rivalled only by the same composer’s string quintet and characterised by an eternal paradox in its typically Schubertian endless melodic stream and its equally typical sense of impending death, doom and destruction. The finale must emerge as a Dance of Death, a startlingly brutal musical depiction of dissolution almost two hundred years before Stravinsky utilised that trope in “The Rite of Spring”, a brave and desperate defiance of the inevitable masked by enforced jollity - and the Tetzlaff Quartet really nail the mood.
Their playing is swift and invariably tightly focused, never “prettified”, sometimes raw, with sparing use of vibrato, and technically flawless execution of the frequent tremolos. The recorded sound is very detailed and more intimate than, say, the Alban Berg or Allegri Quartets; their broader acoustics match their grander, more overt manner, but where the Tetztlaff really excels is in its scrupulous and invariably unanimous application of dynamics, which greatly enhances the intensity of its playing. That attention to nuance is reinforced by their observation in the booklet notes regarding how the dynamic markings go “from triple piano with diminuendo to triple forte with crescendo”. Those notes provide little factual information on the music itself, being a transcription of a conversation about its emotional hinterland and impact of this constantly questioning music. Mahler’s wry aphorism comes to mind: “If a composer could say what he had to say in words he would not bother to say it in music” – although perhaps a review should be wary of smugly borrowing his bon mot given that the same principle could apply to reviewing.
The first movement is chilling and gripping, its grotesqueries fully realised. The Andante contains some of the most beautiful and unsettling music ever written, exhibiting wonderful control of pianissimi and concluding in almost serene and consolatory mode. The Scherzo is featherlight and delicate in the Mendelssohnian manner, the waltz-time Trio ideally elegant.
If Schubert’s quartet represents some kind of apex in the form then there is an evident logic in including in the programme here a work which was seminal in its inception and establishment. However, there is also the programmatic rationale of establishing a thematic link between these two quartets. If Goethe’s dictum is correct, that the string quartet is “a conversation between four intelligent people”, then in the case of these two works all the participants are to some degree disordered, yet we undoubtedly hear four equal voices, each claiming conversational ascendancy in turn, such is the virtuosity and equilibrium of the Tetzlaffs’ playing. Haydn’s work is disturbing in a manner similar to that of Schubert’s, in that the music evinces a frequent and shocking undercurrent of dissatisfaction and even anger, although it hardly achieves the same scorched emotiveness as Schubert’s masterwork. This is wild, erratic and fragmented music by early Classical period standards; even the supposedly courtly Menuet is more melancholy and unsettled than “galant” and three of the movements conclude by simply tailing off in a piano muttering in a manner most unconventional and even unsatisfactory by the measure of the age. The Trio of the Scherzo is incongruously cheerful as if it hardly belongs in the quartet at all while the Adagio, exquisitely played here, provides another such interlude of unexpected serenity in an otherwise fitful and capricious work whose restlessness goes a long way towards justifying its kinship with D887. A final irony is that there is no evidence that this or any other string quartets were ever performed in Esterházy; it seems that Haydn wrote them out of an inner compulsion to exorcise his demons while marooned in that civilised but remote gilded cage.
Comparison with the esteemed Buchberger Quartet in the Haydn reveals that the Buchberger is more assertive and plays in a more overtly “con spirito” manner than the Tetzlaff, who are perhaps occasionally almost too refined but thereby bring out the subtleties of this extraordinary music; I would not let that count as a demerit, especially when the pairing here succeeds so triumphantly.
– MusicWeb International (Ralph Moore)
Beethoven: Piano Sonatas Op.31/3 & 110, Bagatelles Op. 33 &
American Classics - Piston: Symphony No 4, Etc / Schwarz
The couplings are also very well done, the Capriccio's naturally dry string textures and bracing harmonic idiom providing an excellent stylistic foil to the solo harp. Three New England Sketches, one of Piston's very few "titled" works, also has impressive atmosphere, though Slatkin's out of print version on RCA was better still. No matter: these are fine performances very well recorded, and deserve your attention. Thanks to Naxos for keeping them in the catalog (and to the Seattle Symphony, which understood the necessity of not leaving the master tapes to molder in some closet or basement storage room once Delos deleted the original issues).
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Monteverdi: Madrigals, Book 9 - Scherzi musicali
Schubert: The Unauthorised Piano Duos, Vol. 3 / Goldstone, Clemmow
Schumann: Arrangements For Piano Duet Vol 1 / Eckerle Piano Duo
As an avid duet player, Robert Schumann not only wrote delightful original pieces in this genre but also supervised four-hand arrangements of his works, although he created relatively few of these himself. At first Otto Dresel’s arrangement of the A major String Quartet Op. 41 No. 3 met with Schumann’s approval; nevertheless, the composer made revisions, adding slower metronome indications to better accommodate the piano’s extended register and sonority. In fact, Schumann listed this arrangement in his catalog of works. Here the Dresel/Schumann A major quartet receives its premiere recording as part of the first of a projected seven-disc survey of Schumann piano duet arrangements by the composer, his friends, and associates.
You can’t help but respect the Eckerle Piano Duo’s meticulously calibrated ensemble values and rhythmic exactitude, although a slightly faster second movement basic tempo might convey the composer’s agitato directive more effectively. Surprisingly, the Piano Quintet’s strong textural contrasts and sense of interplay between musicians loses very little in translation to the piano duet medium, possibly due to Clara Schumann’s intelligent balancing of registers and liberal yet discreet deployment of octave doublings.
By contrast, Theodor Kirchner’s transcription published by C. F. Peters is more conservatively laid out for two players, and consequently is less interesting to hear, although much easier to play. Again, the Eckerle Duo has worked out the balances, tempo relationships, dynamic scaling, and pedaling to an impressively polished degree; you’ll never hear the Scherzo’s ornaments so uniformly and accurately articulated, for example. At the same time, I prefer the shapely exuberance, supple playfulness, and conversational give and take that the Duo d’Accord brings to its Oehms Classics world-premiere recording. Piano-arrangement mavens considering this release may be further tempted by its excellent sound, plus Joachim Draheim’s well-written and informative booklet notes.
-- Jed Distler ClassicsToday.com
Schumann: Complete Symphonic Works, Vol. 1
Schumann: Piano Sonatas / Carlo Grante
SCHUMANN Piano Sonatas: No. 1; No. 2; No. 3 • Carlo Grante (pn) • MUSIC & ARTS 1220 (79:16)
We don’t get the three sonatas on one disc too often; as you can see from the timing, these apples barely fit into the barrel. So on one plane of gratitude we must acknowledge Carlo Grante’s efforts in this regard. His playing has also been generally well received in these pages, though if one searches the article archives, a preponderance of relatively unknown material predominates. Recording Schumann is definitely a step into the mainstream, and as such the requirements get a little tougher for the discerning record collector, though again, convenience cannot be easily overestimated.
But many will, in the case of the sonatas, attempt to make the argument that grouping them together is a silly exercise anyway, since, well, the Schumann sonatas aren’t really sonatas anyway, are they? I guess it all depends on what your definition of sonata is, and whether juxtaposed in extremis , origins can ultimately constitute the same sort of name that fits a form that Mozart would have easily recognized. The No. 1, for instance, began life as an interpolation from his op. 4 Intermezzos, used as the middle Scherzo movement. A later Fandango, composed the same year, would join the conglomeration as the rather sophisticated first movement. So already we are left wondering whether “sonata” is telling-true or simply an afterthought because no better title came to mind.
Sonata No. 2 started life as a concerto without piano; it was to see at least three other incarnations. In the second edition, a Scherzo fourth movement was added, with significant revisions to movement 1. This edition on the present recording uses the added Scherzo, but retains the first thoughts of the original first movement. This is a rather crazy work (in a wonderful way) that features a unique “Clara” theme in the third movement, followed by a series of variations, and the superimposed contrasting rhythms of the last movement making it especially appealing to a composer like Brahms, who adored it. The final sonata had its origins before the other two, but was completed later. Clara herself thought it “not too incomprehensible,” but admitted that the public and critics didn’t understand it. It is the least popular of the sonatas, but even so has much to offer the Schumann-starved.
But getting back to the original question, are these real sonatas? In the end, yes, for they do follow the form more or less closely, even though Schumann felt as if he were storytelling in the most basic narrative sense of the word, while using the Classical structure as a basis for his methodology. In the end, we don’t really care though, for the music is too engaging and rewarding to be overly concerned with the formal scaffolding that Schumann uses to present it to us.
I admire very much Carlo Grante’s recent release on this same label of piano concertos by Mozart, using the Godowsky cadenzas. His playing there is clean, efficient, well rounded tonally, and masculine, while avoiding any sort of hard edge. I find much of the same approach on this album. It is some of the driest Schumann I have ever heard, Grante seeming to forego pedal unless absolutely necessary, and when he does use it, there is such a judicious and economical application that you still come away amazed at how well some of the inner lines of Schumann’s always-critical middle voices are heard. On the other hand, when I listen to the likes of Earl Wild (Sonata 1) or Marc-André Hamelin (Sonata 2), I find a certain flair and wildness that I am missing here, where the confines of ultimate control dominate all conceptions. And Eric Le Sage’s ongoing series (the three sonatas already out and available) sport more resonant and deeply felt sound than what Music &Arts gives us here. Nonetheless, I am reluctant to rain on Grante’s parade, as what he does here is quite admirable and will find many takers. I count myself among them, even if my ultimate requirements need a little more moisture.
FANFARE: Steven E. Ritter