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Castelnuovo-Tedesco: Music for Violin & Piano / Luciani, Motterle
Brilliant Classics · Sep 2020CD$18.99 -
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Bernstein: Violin Sonata, Piano Trio, New Transcriptions / Bernard, Mazzie, Opus Two
Naxos · Nov 2010CD$19.99 -
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SaleFranck: Violin Sonata; Prelude, Fugue Et Variation; Prelude, Choral Et Fugue
Piano Classics · Jul 2013CD$21.99$10.99 -
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Bloch: Music for Violin and Piano / Maristella and Mario Patuzzi
Brilliant Classics · Feb 2015CD$13.99 -
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SaleBeethoven: Violin Sonata No. 9, "Kreutzer" - Franck: Violin
Brilliant Classics · Feb 2017CD$13.99$6.99 -
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Arensky: Piano Quintet
Aho: Double and Triple Concertos / Elts, Antwerp Symphony
Concertos for cor anglais are few and far between, and harp concertos aren’t very common either. In combining the two, Kalevi Aho has come up with a true rarity – possibly the only double concerto in existence for these two instruments. Composed in 2014, the work was commissioned by the Antwerp Symphony Orchestra for two of its solo players: Anneleen Lenaerts and Dimitri Mestdag, who also perform it here. The work is characteristically eclectic, making the most of the sonic possibilities of the solo instruments, but also of the orchestral palette. The Antwerp Symphony Orchestra is no newcomer to Aho’s music, having previously recorded his concertos for trombone and trumpet. On the present disc, it also provides support for the Storioni Trio, in the Triple Concerto for violin, cello, piano and chamber orchestra, a joint commission by the trio and the orchestra. In 2017, as Aho started work on the concerto, his granddaughter was born. Having written a lullaby for her, he decided to use that as the core melodic material of the piece. The lullaby is heard several times in the first movement, which is quite tonal and very dreamlike. It also features in the movements that follow, while the harmonic language becomes more complex. Aho himself describes the work as having ‘a general atmosphere full of joy and positive (sometimes quite virtuosic) energy.’
REVIEW:
The Finnish composer Kalevi Aho is amazingly prolific. Not only are there, so far, seventeen symphonies and five operas, but also no fewer than thirty-seven concertos. Here we have two of them.
The Double Concerto for cor anglais and harp begins very quietly, so quietly in fact that at first I thought there was something wrong with my player while sounds like background noises started emerging. However, the two solo instruments do enter and gradually the work gathers definition and then rhythmic bite. There is a cadenza for the two instruments before the music subsides. This first movement is as long as the remaining three together. The second movement is a short cadenza for the harp alone, a most attractive passage, which leads into a brisk and exciting allegro. The finale is again short and quiet and we return to something like the mood of the beginning.
The Triple Concerto for violin, cello and piano is a more traditional combination, and the listener will at once think of Beethoven’s concerto for the same combination. Aho is obviously aware of this and does something quite different. For a start he uses a chamber orchestra, with strings and just two wind instruments. He rarely employs his soloists as a group together, but writes more in the concerto grosso kind of idiom, with a good deal of interplay between the soloists and the orchestra. If this sounds rather like Martinů, this is deliberate, and I was several times reminded of the Czech master in hearing this work. It is based on a lullaby he wrote for his granddaughter Matilda, which used the musical letters in her name. This comes several times in the dreamy and atmospheric first movement. This is followed by an energetic Presto, then another mysterious slow movement and a finale which starts slowly but soon speeds up.
The performers here are a mainly Belgian team, and they were all involved in the premieres apart from the conductor, who on those occasions was Martyn Brabbins, who has had quite a close association with Aho’s music. For whatever reason, he is not the conductor here, and that role is taken by the Estonian Olari Elts. He does a good job and secures confident performances. The sleevenote, in four languages is helpful. This is a SACD but I was listening in ordinary two channel stereo, in which the sound was immaculate. BIS has been supporting Aho for a long time and this latest issue is a worthy addition to their series. Aho’s fans need not hesitate, and those curious about trying this composer could well dip a toe in here.
-- MusicWeb International (Stephen Barber)
Ashton: Music For Cello And Piano, Vol. 1 / Mizerska, Abbate
Ashton (b. 1859, Durham), is a best-kept secret of British music. He has a generous output of piano music, chamber works and songs. Ashton’s writing for both cello and piano is virtuosic. What strikes the ear is the quality of his melodic inspiration – the lyrical immediacy of his tunes suggests Schubert, set in a style of Brahmsian richness. This CD features world premiere recordings.
REVIEW:
Algernon Ashton, (1859–1937) was a British-born composer who was educated in Germany. When his father died in 1863, his mother moved the family to Leipzig where she was befriended by Clara Schumann. Even as a child, Algernon attended the famous Schumann soirees and rubbed shoulders with famous musicians. After finishing his education, he returned to England. He became professor of piano at the Royal Academy of Music in London and spent the rest of his life in England. Ashton was a prolific composer but many of his works were not published and very few have been recorded. His chamber music output includes four sonatas for violin and piano, four for cello and piano, two piano quartets, and two piano quintets. He also wrote symphonies, but they were never published. The opening work on this Toccata disc is his Arioso, a beautiful piece in a contemplative mood. It has some of the colors of Brahms, but none of his rhythmic bite. The Sonata No. 1 in F Major opens with an Allegro Appassionato, an impassioned plea begging the listener to take a mental voyage to Ashton’s lyrical world of drawing rooms with polished grand pianos and crimson velvet drapes where chamber music was as common as video games are today. He develops the second movement, the Larghetto, with consummate skill and clothes it with jewel tones. Only in the Finale, which he asks to be played Allegro Frescamente, does he bring in a truly rhythmic melody. It could be a happy folk dance replete with clapping and stomping on the accented notes. It’s the kind of music that makes you get up and move! Abbate and Mizerska play all of this music joyfully and with great skill.
The Phantasiestücke is an invitation to reverie. Ashton is a master of melody and he begins with a broad sunny tune that might bring back memories of a hike in German or English woodlands. In the second movement, marked Andantino con Gran Espressione, he leads us away from the cares of the everyday world into the nirvana of pure musical concentration where we can spend a few blissful minutes. After we reach our goal, we return to the village for the last movement marked Allegro Scherzando. There we can relax and tap our toes to another of Ashton’s fast and furious folk tunes. The Second Sonata is a bit more dramatic than the First. Its markings, Moderato and Adagio ma non troppo are somewhat deceiving, because this work is constantly increasing in tension as it builds toward its marvelously animated finale. The two fine artists who currently reside and teach in London, the Polish-born Evva Mizerska and the Naples-born Emma Abbate, play all of this music with great finesse. Ashton’s music is a revelation. It deserves a much wider audience than it has had so far. The sound on the disc is clear with each instrument given equal presence. I enjoyed getting to know Ashton’s story and his music and think this disc should have a place in many record libraries.
-- Fanfare
Castelnuovo-Tedesco: Music for Violin & Piano / Luciani, Motterle
Cilea Collection (Italian Romantics Series)
Wieniawski & Nikodemowicz: Works for Violin & Piano / Kęska
This new release from DUX presents selected works of Henryk Wieniawski and Andrezej Nikodemowicz for violin and piano; performed here by violinist Dominika Falger and pianist Gajusz Keska.Henryk Wieniawski was one of the most outstanding violinists of the second half of the 19th century. In the first years of his career, his works were mainly virtuoso pieces; compositions testifying to the technical efficiency of an excellent violinist (including the Polonaise in D Major, Op. 4, Caprices, Op. 10, the Concerto in F-sharp Minor, Op. 14). In later works, he clearly sought a compromise between the technical layer and the depth of musical expression. In the works recorded on this album, Wieniawski refers to the best traditions of salon music.
The Kujawiak in A Minor, Chanson polonaise Op. 12 No. 2, Obertas in G Major and The Piper in D Major Op. 19 Nos. 1 and 2 kept in a folk character, with melody of noble simplicity, went down in the 19th-century violin music as compositions of Polish pedigree.
The music of Andrzej Nikodemowicz bears traces of fascination with the works of Johann Sebastian Bach, Fryderyk Chopin, Alexander Scriabin, Karol Szymanowski as well as with elements of sonorism and dodecaphony.
Pieces for violin and piano from the early creative period of Andrzej Nikodemowicz Nocturne, Op. 3 (1946), Romance, Op. 6 (1947) and Sonata, Op. 10 (19481949) are characterized by a romantic aura, distinct expression, and natural beauty of the sound of the concert instruments. Their melodies, provided with a broad phrase, are complemented by colourful harmony, sometimes slightly dissonant, but always alert to changing moods. In turn, Lullaby, Op. 86 (2nd version, 1993) and 5 Lullabies, Op. 94 (1991) are an expression of a longing for the past and the happiness of childhood.
Bernstein: Violin Sonata, Piano Trio, New Transcriptions / Bernard, Mazzie, Opus Two
This disc collects three of Leonard Bernstein’s very few examples of chamber music. Although written at the onset of his career, the Piano Trio and the Violin Sonata (both student works) and the Clarinet Sonata (here arranged for violin by William Terwilliger) confirm his prowess in a genre to which he simply never had time to return. Rounding out the disc are songs from three of his theatre works, including ‘My House’ from Peter Pan, ‘Take Care of this House’ from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and four songs from the acclaimed madcap operetta Candide, all idiomatically arranged by Eric Stern.
Avarp: Prologue - Icelandic Chamber Music / Panasiuk, Wandtke, Panasiuk
The Icelandic chamber music recorded on the album by Agnieszka Panasiuk (piano) together with Anna Wandtke (violin) and Pawel Panasiuk (cello) is characterized by varied expression, high emotional load and lyricism. The rich sound color comes to the fore, with a well-thought-out and coherent dialogue of instrumental voices. The piano is the central sound axis, shaping the character of the compositions presented on the album. Agnieszka Panasiuk is at ease with the use of a variety of expressive and virtuoso means, differentiating stylistically between compositions representing a number of trends present in the Icelandic music of the 20th century. The variety of colors, charisma and precision of the string instruments give the recipient a wide sonoristic image and complement the interesting whole. The album takes the listener into the world of the raw beauty of faraway Iceland and also encourages to reflect on the originality and uniqueness of the Icelandic musical language.
Ries: Flute Quartets, Vol. 1 / Ardinghello Ensemble
If the number of compositions written for a specific instrument is any indication of a predilection, then Ferdinand Ries did indeed have a soft place in his heart for the flute. He penned no fewer than six quartets for flute and string trio, a quintet for flute, violin, two violas, and violoncello, a trio for piano, flute and violoncello, and many works for flute and piano - more works than for any other wind instrument. His first Flute Quartet presents itself as a grand, imposing quartet in the affirmative key of C major and contains many surprising elements. Here too, as already in his symphonies and string quartets, Ries proves to be an entirely independent and original composer - despite his close association with Beethoven. The Ardinghello ensemble adheres undogmatically to historically informed performance practice. Karl Kaiser plays transverse flutes from the early nineteenth century. The string players perform on instruments with stringing and bows from around 1820.
Hoffmann: Mandolin Quartets
There is still much we do not know about the veritable mandolin-mania of late 18th-century Europe, particularly Vienna, which in that period was home to the three greatest musicians of the Classical period: Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven. The instrument certainly enjoyed dazzling success in Viennese musical circles, embraced by the cultured aristocrats who resided in the Habsburg capital, and its meteoric rise was supported by some extraordinary virtuosos who helped promote its high-quality and fast-growing repertoire.
Giovanni Hoffmann’s refined chamber music featuring the mandolin was warmly received among the Viennese elite, making him one of the foremost figures behind the burgeoning mandolin repertoire of late 18th-century Vienna. Very little is known about his life; the Italianate first name alongside a clearly central-European surname adds to the mystery shrouding his birthplace and sphere of education.
Hoffmann was both a mandolin virtuoso and an esteemed composer. In 1799, the music merchant Johann Traeg advertised a list of the mandolin scores available to purchase from his shop on Vienna’s Singerstraße. It included a Trio for mandolin & bass by Hoffmann, and that same year, the composer released a further number of manuscript works through Traeg including his Quartets for mandolin, violin, viola & cello and
Serenatas for mandolin & viola. Hoffmann’s work is recorded again in Austria in the early decades of the 19th century, but – like his birth – the place and date of his death have not yet come to light. His music, however, lives on, a testament to his talent for composing delightful music in a Classical style evoking the fascinating gatherings of the Viennese literati.
Franck: Violin Sonata; Prelude, Fugue Et Variation; Prelude, Choral Et Fugue
Zemlinsky, Bloch, Korngold: Piano Trios / Pacific Trio
Brahms was so impressed with Zemlinsky’s Trio for clarinet, cello and piano in D Minor from 1896 that he recommended the work to his publisher Simrock. Shrewdly Brahms suggested that the clarinet part be also written for a violin so a standard piano trio could play the work and increase its scope. The score reminded me slightly of Brahms but without the glorious melodies. Although the three movements have different tempi the overall mood is warm and agreeable with a controlled passion, never unruly but with a rather windswept disposition.
Bloch’s Three Nocturnes for piano, violin and cello were written in 1924 at Cleveland where he was founding director of the newly established Cleveland Institute of Music. Neo-classical in style each nocturne is a character piece said to portray a particular feature of the night. Beautifully drafted and agreeable this work seems over all too soon. Especially delightful is the colourful and rather alluring opening Nocturne - an Andante that sounds distinctly like raindrops. The second reminds me of a Berceuse and the third marked Tempestoso is spiritedly rhythmic somewhat evocative of wind and rain.
A child prodigy, Korngold wrote his Trio for piano, violin and cello in D major, Op. 1 in 1909/10 when he was a mere 13 years old. In 1910 he had written a ballet Der Schneemann (The Snowman) that had been performed at the Vienna Court Opera. Despite the assiduousness of the Pacific Trio everything feels too similar in mood with the different tempi of each of the four movements insufficient to hold the attention. As the product of a boy, albeit a genius, it’s perhaps not surprising there is little emotional depth to the writing.
The engineers provide warm well balanced sound while the dedicated and well prepared players deliver amenable performances displaying satisfying unity and a pleasing timbre. It’s bold of the trio to present three rarely heard works on a single CD but to increase the desirability of the release by not including one well known repertoire score is an opportunity missed.
– MusicWeb International (Michael Cookson)
Forellenquintett, Klavierquintett
Bach: 6 Cello Suites / Carmine Miranda
BACH Six Cello Suites • Carmine Miranda (vc) • CENTAUR 3263/4 (2 CDs: 130:10)
Since reviewing Truls Mørk’s version of Bach’s unaccompanied cello suites in 29:5, no fewer than six more accounts have crossed my desk. In chronological order, they were Jean-Guihen Queyras (31:4), Sara Sant’Ambrogio (33:3), Luigi Piovano (34:5), Hekun Wu (34:6), Tanya Tomkins (35:1), and Richard Tuncliffe (36:1). Some of the cellists used conventional cellos, others period instruments. All but two, however, had one thing in common: They were uniformly awful, though each in its own way, ranging from barely tolerable to downright execrable. The one I kept coming back to as my preferred and strongly recommended set throughout those reviews was the first on this list, the one by Jean-Guihen Queyras, with Hekun Wu being a close runner-up. Both, by the way, performed the suites on cellos in modern configuration.
Bach’s six cello suites are like a Siren’s call to cellists of all persuasions, luring many of them to ruin. And the thing is there’s no reason for it. Was it a singular achievement for Bach to write such technically challenging works for an instrument that was relatively new at the time, and a melody instrument to boot, one that takes even more kindly to intensive double-stopping than the violin? Yes. But are the cello suites comparable on levels of musical scope and intellectual depth to the unaccompanied violin sonatas and partitas? Not even close. There are no massive fugues in the cello suites and nothing that approaches the dimensions of the D-Minor Violin Partita’s Chaconne. The cello suites are exactly what their title tells us they are—six sets of relatively short, stylized baroque dances. Yet for cellists—and for some listeners, I think—they’ve taken on an import that may be beyond their actual significance in Bach’s output, virtually becoming every cellist’s initiation rite.
So, how does the young Venezuelan cellist, Carmine Miranda (b. 1988), fare in his initiation into cellodom’s manhood? Well, first a few words about this young artist, who is likely unknown to readers, as this is his recording debut; he was 22 when he recorded the Bach suites for Centaur in 2011–12. Miranda’s early training took place in his native country, where he studied at the Carabobo State Music Conservatory, then in the Latin-American Academy of Violoncello, and finally at the Simon Bolivar Conservatory of Music (the institution that spawned the famous “El Sistema”). Miranda then traveled to the States to study with Ross Harbaugh at the University of Miami, followed by further coaching under Yehuda Hanani at the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music where Miranda obtained his bachelor’s and master’s degrees and is a candidate for a doctorate.
In the U.S., he has performed at Carnegie Hall, Bowdoin Music Festival, the Bach Annalia Festival in Cincinnati, the Young People’s Festival in Chatham, N.Y., and is on the artist’s roster for the Close Encounters with Music Series in Great Barrington, N.Y., both under the direction of Yehuda Hanani and others.
Among Miranda’s awards are first prize at the 2005 Alhambra Music Competition, the National Prize for best soloist from the FMEA (Florida Music Educators Association), and the 2008–09 University of Cincinnati Cello Competition. He has collaborated with recognized international artists such as Yehuda Hanani, Awadagin Pratt, Rodolfo Saglimbeni and performed as a soloist with several chamber ensembles and orchestras, recently including the Caracas Municipal Symphony Orchestra. He is also the founder and member of the Troika Piano Trio comprised of violinist Joshua Ulrich and pianist Assaf Sommer.
Miranda, who authored his own album note, makes no mention of the instrument(s) he uses for these performances, how he handles the scordatura tuning of the Fifth Suite—does he retune his cello according to the original manuscript or use the modern standard-tuning edition?—or what he does to accommodate the Sixth Suite, believed to have been originally written for a five-string violoncello piccolo. His note speaks only of his personal impressions of, and responses to, the emotional and spiritual character and quality of each of the pieces. At one point, in fact, I was quite taken aback to read, “Interpretation of the suites has nothing to do with what is correct, accurate, and historical, but it rather has to do with going deep within the soul of the writing…” That raised a red flag for me, not to mention an eyebrow. I couldn’t help but think to myself that only the immodesty of youth could be so callow and cavalier with respect to the years of serious musicological research that have attempted to ascertain what is “correct, accurate, and historical,” and to the many veteran cellists who have spent more years studying these works than Miranda has been alive. But the proof, as they say, is in the hearing. And so I decided not to allow my annoyance with Miranda’s words to influence my judgment of his playing.
Instantly, from the very first bar of the G-Major Suite, the cellist that came to mind was Pablo Casals, a comparison that elicits no higher compliment. In my above-mentioned review of Tanya Tomkins’s Bach suites, I noted how slow and super-romanticized her readings were; she takes 3:16 for the opening Prelude, a full half-minute longer than Jacqueline du Pré, who, at 2:35, is hardly fast. So, I went back to Casals’s 1950s recording and found that he dispatched the Prelude in two minutes flat and without any rhythmic distensions or distortions. What about Carmine Miranda? 2:09. I don’t know if Miranda studied Casals’s recordings, but if he didn’t, it’s truly uncanny how closely he channels both the letter and the spirit of the great cellist’s example.
It’s really difficult to express in words the beauty of Miranda’s performances. His cello is a modern instrument, or at least one updated with modern fittings and tuned to modern pitch, but the tone it emits is lighter in weight than that which we often hear in versions played on modern cellos. Of course, much of that can be attributed to Miranda’s bowing. He doesn’t dig into the strings to produce guttural sounds. The tone is clean and clear and intonation perfect. But one expects more than technical proficiency, dexterity, and finesse; and more—much more than that—is what one gets from Miranda’s readings.
Alluded to above is the fact that these are suites of dances, and time and again, in extolling the virtues of Jean-Guihen Queyras’s performances, I’ve remarked on the way in which he manages to capture the essence of each dance step. Miranda, it seems to me, goes one step further (no pun intended). He hears, and allows us to hear, the historical roots of each dance and whence it comes, which is pretty funny when you try to square that with his comment that interpretation of the suites has nothing to do with the historical. Yet listen to Miranda’s courantes, and you will hear not just rapid tempos, but the very definition of the Renaissance dance as described by Thoinot Arbeau, the 16th-century French theorist who tells us that the courante was danced with fast running and jumping steps. If Miranda didn’t learn this from reading music history, he knows it intuitively, for it’s not just his accelerated tempos but the effect of rhythmic arrest you would observe in a dance that involved running forward several steps, then making a sudden jump, hop, or jerk to stop short the forward motion. In Miranda’s hands, the suites don’t just sound dance-like , as in stylized baroque refinements, they sound like actual Renaissance dances.
Likewise, Miranda’s sarabandes are played with the stately gravitas that would have been à la mode for a processional court dance in 17th-century France. Interestingly, the sarabande had its origins as a fairly fast dance a century earlier and quite likely in Mexico or Central America. When Spanish colonists brought the dance back to Spain with them, it was banned in 1583 for being obscene. It wasn’t until the sarabande made its way to Italy and then France that it became the slow, triple-meter dance that was widely adopted into the baroque suite.
I’ve never heard Bach’s cello suites played in quite this way, and while I wouldn’t want to be without the versions by Queyras, Hekun Wu, Casals, and János Starker, Carmine Miranda’s will not only join them, it will stand out as perhaps the most original and imaginative interpretations of the suites I’ve heard.
Centaur’s recording, too, is outstanding, capturing Miranda’s cello fairly close up but with sufficient air around it to allow for a natural sounding bloom, yet without any annoying echo effect. An album note states that the recording was made without any editing. This is a definite buy recommendation for both connoisseurs of Bach’s cello suites and those who appreciate cello playing at its best. I’d have to say that Carmine Miranda has passed his initiation with flying colors. Welcome to the ranks of the world class players.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Bloch: Music for Violin and Piano / Maristella and Mario Patuzzi
Spanning the 1920s, most of the works on this release came to fruition soon after the composer began to compose for the violin on a solo level. Bloch was a composer who harnessed many of the musical tendencies of the time to create highly original works, never tying himself to a particular style, and the authenticity and invention for which he is remembered permeates the entire compilation – starting with Violin Sonata No.1 (1920), a work deeply rooted in tonality and requiring great technical skill. Suite No.1, written nearly 40 years later, brings the neo-Classical aspect of Bloch’s music to the fore through its use of partita form. The Jewish influence is of course also strong: the famous and exotic Baal Shem which narrates three aspects of Chassidic life is included, together with Abodah – or ‘God’s Worship’ – dedicated to the world-famous violinist Yehudi Menuhin, who described the composer as “one of the Seven Wonders […] cast by the gods in a superhuman mould.”
Ernest Bloch (1880-1959) was trained as a violinist, taking lessons from the great Eugene Ysaye in Brussels. Under the threat of the Nazi regime he took refuge to the USA, where he stayed the rest of his life. Here he became famous , one of the first “classical” composers to integrate Jewish elements in his music. His works on religious themes express the sorrows and joys of the Jewish people over the centuries.
This release presents the works for violin and piano, the substantial and romantic 1rst violin sonata, the neo-classical Suite and the famous Baal Shem (scenes from Chassidic Life) and the “Abodah” (God’s Worship), dedicated to Yehudi Menuhin.
Weinberg: 24 Preludes for violin solo
