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Leshnoff: Violin Concerto no. 1, String Quartet no. 1 / Wetherbee, Carpe Diem Quartet
Naxos · Feb 2009CD$19.99 -
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Paulus: Three Places of Enlightenment; Veil of Tears; Grand Concerto for Organ and Orchestra
Naxos · Oct 2014CD$19.99 -
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Wuorinen: Music Of Two Decades Vol 3 / Miller, Fine Arts Quartet
Music and Arts Programs of America · Aug 2013CD$19.99 -
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![Daniel Jones: Rediscovered Piano Works [4 CDs] / Martin Jones](//arkivmusic.com/cdn/shop/files/4098094-2843892.jpg?v=1786693027&width=800)
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![Daniel Jones: Rediscovered Piano Works [4 CDs] / Martin Jones](//arkivmusic.com/cdn/shop/files/5020926239624.jpg?v=1786693027&width=800)
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![Daniel Jones: Rediscovered Piano Works [4 CDs] / Martin Jones](//arkivmusic.com/cdn/shop/files/4098094-2843892.jpg?v=1786693027&width=400)
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Schumann: Gesange Der Fruhe; 7 Fughetten; Kreisleriana / Dina Ugorskaja
CAvi-music · Oct 2010CD$19.99 -
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Adolf Busch Plays Bach And Beethoven In Wartime New York
Music and Arts Programs of America · May 2006CD$18.99 -
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SaleMonteverdi: 7th Book of Madrigals / Alessandrini, Concerto Italiano
Naïve · Jan 2023CD$21.99$10.99 -
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BEETHOVEN: THE 9 SYMPHONIES
Beethoven was Wilhelm Furtwängler's guiding musical force. In his interpretations of the symphonies, the conductor generates irresistible dramatic momentum - and a constant sense of imaginative freshness - through the interrelationship of form, harmony, texture, rhythm and tempo. These recordings, all made in the late 1940s and early 1950s, in the Musikverein in Vienna and at concerts in London, Bayreuth and Stockholm, have been remastered in 192kHz/24-bit at Art & Son Studio (in 2021 for the 7 recordings included in The Complete Wilhelm Furtwängler on Records and newly for this edition for the 3 other ones), bringing their sound more alive than ever before and for the first time here on a physical medium.
As a bonus the 5th Symphony live performance from 1950 in Copenhagen restored in HD from an excellent condition analogue source has been added.
Leshnoff: Violin Concerto no. 1, String Quartet no. 1 / Wetherbee, Carpe Diem Quartet
REVIEWS:
Leshnoff might compose his music for anyone who wants to listen, but it seems to me that the inattentive listener will be cheated out of most of its pleasures. Indeed, it wasn’t until I sat down and really listened to this CD on my home stereo that I realized how fine this music is. It asks the listener to devote time and attention to it; there’s no pandering here, but I think it still is accessible to anyone who is sufficiently open-minded enough to enjoy Hindemith, Bartók, or late Stravinsky, for example. (Surely that’s not too much to ask!)
The Violin Concerto could well be a significant addition to the instrument’s repertoire. Five movements are indicated, but because there is no pause between the first and second movements, and none between the fourth and fifth, and also because there is a tempo change in the fourth, the work’s structure is more complicated than the CD’s track listing indicates. The concerto opens with a figure not unlike Westminster chimes, and because it reappears several times throughout the concerto, it serves as a kind of guidepost. The opening Allegro drives forward with purpose, and is serious but not grim. There is much to interest the ears, not least in the orchestration, which is consistently imaginative. The solo writing is idiomatic, as if Leshnoff composed it for himself. At 7:57, the second movement (Slow) is the concerto’s longest, and it is here that we are introduced to Leshnoff’s more lyrical side. Again, orchestral colors are deployed with an artist’s sensitivity, and the musical argument is well considered and involving, with an emotional intensity suggesting that the composer, in spite of his age, is something of an old soul. If Samuel Barber had lived longer, he might have written music not unlike this. The central Scherzo lightens the mood—for a time—without disturbing the concerto’s emotional trajectory. Prokofiev comes to mind. Leshnoff uses the orchestra masterfully, avoiding both cliché and novelty for novelty’s sake. The fourth movement (Slow–Fast) returns to the mood of the second, but it is more unsettled, and soon becomes agitated. A crisis is reached, and then resolved—but only partly—in the closing Elegy, which again is reminiscent of Barber. The music stops before one expects it to, giving the concerto an open-ended feeling. Although he didn’t write a programmatic work, one of Leshnoff’s inspirations was a story told by a Holocaust survivor. During forced labor, SS guards would make prisoners sing Nazi propaganda songs, but the prisoners would insert their prayers into these songs. In light of this story, one can better understand why the concerto ends as it does.
Distant Reflections is scored for solo violin, piano, and strings, with an offstage string quartet. This might be thought of as Leshnoff’s response to Vaughan Williams’s Tallis Fantasia , except here Leshnoff uses fragments from a Mass by Ockeghem. As in the concerto (but without sounding like it), a very refined ear is at work (in terms of both color and form), and Distant Reflections is at once sensual and serious. Without talking down to listeners or gimmickry, Leshnoff indeed has succeeded in writing new music that could appeal to many.
Pearl German is the wife of Jeremiah German, “a college professor with an abiding love of music,” according to Naxos’s booklet notes. The String Quartet No. 1 was a commission in honor of German’s wife, on the occasion of her 80th birthday. The four movements, beginning with “Winter,” are named after the four seasons. Again, this is not a programmatic work—there are no Vivaldian stamping feet or barking dogs. Instead, Leshnoff seems to be aiming at a more metaphysical reflection on the cycles of life. Ending the work with “Autumn” allows Leshnoff yet another downbeat ending, which he seems to like and does well. In terms of both timbre and emotions, this quartet is refined, eschewing that which is obvious or easy. As in the other two works, his writing is concise; Leshnoff is not a composer who goes on talking after he has nothing more to say.
These performances, all supervised by the composer, make an excellent case for the music. Wetherbee is a first-class violinist, whether he is a soloist or within the very able Carpe Diem String Quartet, whose other members are Wendy Morton, Korine Fujiwara, and Robert Firdman. The Baltimore Chamber Orchestra, founded in the 1980s, plays with polish under the direction of Markand Thakar, and with evident appreciation for Leshnoff’s ideas. There are some weird and annoying sonic artifacts, only noticeable during pauses and very quiet sections in the recording of the String Quartet; it sounds as if another ensemble were playing in a studio two doors down. Otherwise, Naxos’s recording is excellent.
Labels like to push their hot new composers, and after a while, one gets skeptical over this or that so-called discovery. Leshnoff, however, is excitingly “the real thing,” and I expect we’ll be hearing a lot more from and about him in years to come.
-- Fanfare
Paulus: Three Places of Enlightenment; Veil of Tears; Grand Concerto for Organ and Orchestra
So we have two concertos of very similar profile and dimensions, flanking a short piece for string orchestra. The first three tracks contain the Concerto for String Quartet and Orchestra, a work written at the behest of the leader of the Cleveland Quartet, William Preucil. It’s interesting that the middle movement is by far the longest – longer in fact than the other two put together – and also that the Grand Concerto on tracks 5-7 has very much the same profile.
What of the music’s style and content? Firstly, I’d recommend listening to the CD before you read too much of the ‘blurb’, some of which is a little off-putting and pompous. I found this an enormously rewarding and enjoyable listen; Paulus is not a progressive composer, nor is he a ‘minimalist’. As you listen, you are more likely to relate his style to music of the second half of the twentieth century – Shostakovich, perhaps, in the nervous rhythms of the Concerto for String Quartet’s thrusting first movement, and maybe even Tippett in the rather beautiful but uneasy slow movement that follows. That is not to say that Paulus is derivative; I only cite these composers to give a stylistic reference point.
The concerto is sub-titled Three Places of Enlightenment, and each movement has a title too; the first is From Within, the second From Afar and the lively third is From All Around and Radiating Ever Outward. Make of that what you will, but the simple fact is that this is entertaining music, superbly conceived for the forces involved.
Veil of Tears is an interlude from Paulus’ holocaust-inspired oratorio To Be Certain of the Dawn. It is a searching, desolate piece — again Shostakovich comes to mind — which could and should find its way into the established string orchestra repertoire. Once more, the composer shows what a wonderful ear he has for texture, and creates music which, while not incredibly hard to play, still manages to use to the full the resources available to him.
The programme on this disc is well constructed, because the Grand Concerto for Organ and Orchestra begins in darkness, following on from the mood of Veil of Tears. This first movement soon opens out into an eventful quicker section, contrasting the solo organ and the various sections of the orchestra in highly effective ways. The recording is excellently balanced – organ concertos are notoriously tricky in this respect – and the alert, characterful playing of the Nashville orchestra under Guerrero comes over with total clarity.
Another refreshing characteristic of Paulus is that he is not afraid of melody. The middle movement of the Grand Concerto begins with a fine example, a winding descending line that ends with the quiet entry of woodwind and strings. The textures here are wonderful, the high-pitched reed tones of the organ blending and mixing with the upper woodwind. Neither is he afraid of a climax, as the colossal build-up at the centre of this magnificent movement (sub-titled Austere: Foreboding) attests. Out of this emerges a long climbing melody in the violins that seems the antithesis of the despondent falling phrase of the opening. The movement ends very quietly. Incidentally, in his note on this movement, the composer mentions his reference to a hymn-tune Come, come ye saints, set to an English folk-melody All is Well. It’s heard softly in the organ near the end.
Busy strings and percussion usher in the finale, Jubilant. It certainly is, and witty too, as it seems to re-create the celebratory mood of the good old Widor Toccata. The energy is vast, and over the organ’s frenzied activity, Paulus introduces the tune O Waly Waly high in the violins. Not sure why, but that doesn’t matter – it’s an exhilarating ride.
All in all, a wonderful CD, and one I would passionately commend to anyone searching for a modern composer who is neither bamboozlingly obscure nor patronisingly accessible.
– MusicWeb International (Gwyn Parry-Jones)
Mahler: Symphony No. 7
Great Haydn Symphonies - No 6, 45, 48, Etc / Fischer, Et Al
There are two ways to obtain the complete Haydn symphonies: a third set on Sony, conducted by Dennis Russell Davies seems no longer to be generally available in the UK, even as a download.
One was made some time ago by Antal Doráti with the Philharmonia Hungarica (Decca 448 5312, 33 CDs). From this set only the Paris Symphonies seem currently to be separately available (Decca E473 8102) and, at prices ranging from around £165 to £195 – even more, £352.15, for the download from hmvdigital.com – buying the whole thing may be something of a daunting proposition. Even as a download, only that Paris set, two Double Decca sets of the London Symphonies and a Decca Eloquence recording of Nos. 94, 100 and 101 remain available separately. These are fine performances of which I can speak from personal experience, having owned several of them on LP; I still have and regularly play some of the smaller CD sets from the series which were once available.
There is, however, a far less expensive way to obtain the symphonies complete, from the Austro-Hungarian Haydn Orchestra under Adam Fischer; the whole set comes on just 8 CDs in mp3 format (NI1722) and can be purchased from MusicWeb International for £23.00 post free. The discs can be played directly from any CD, SACD or blu-ray player which offers mp3 playback, but it’s better to drop and drag the files onto a computer hard drive and play them from there.
Dominy Clements in recommending the set went so far as to include graphic print-outs of the same segment of Symphony No.1 from the normal CD and the mp3 version, demonstrating not only that they sound identical but that there is objective evidence to support the point.
The selection listed above comes from that complete set and, although I don’t have access to that mp3 edition on disc, I’ve been listening to some of the symphonies in mp3 sound from the Naxos Music Library and I’m blessed if I can hear any difference between the versions on CD and the mp3 equivalents.
I’ve reviewed the classicsonline.com downloads of Symphonies Nos.1-20 – July 2012/2 Download Roundup – and Symphonies 21-39 and ‘107’-‘108’ (also known as ‘A’ and ‘B’) – July 2009 Download Roundup. Though I could hardly recommend the downloads when they are more expensive (£39.95) than their physical equivalents on 5 CDs (NI5426-30 and NI5683-7 respectively, £23.00 each post free from MusicWeb International), I was able to confirm the high quality of the mp3 sound. So if you are looking for a complete set of the Haydn symphonies that mp3 set, NI1722, looks to me like the best. If, however, you would like to ease yourself into this wonderful music gradually, the ‘Great Haydn Symphonies’ pair of CDs, obtainable from MusicWeb International for £12 post paid, would be an excellent way to dip your toe into the water.
By no means all the Haydn symphonies with a nickname received their nomenclature from Haydn himself, and by no means all of them are accurate. In this case, however, the set of six nicknamed works provides a very useful peg on which to hang a 2-CD set of works from all periods of Haydn’s long productive life. Not only that, but these are six of my own favourites among the composer’s huge symphonic output.
No.6 comes from the earliest period of his tenure with the Esterházy family. It’s one of a series of three linked works, depicting Morning, Noon and Evening, though it stands well enough on its own. Early it may be, but Haydn never really had a period when his music didn’t sound fully accomplished and its appeal is enhanced by the excellent performance which it receives.
Symphony No.45 is the most famous of the Sturm und Drang symphonies from Haydn’s middle period, around 1770. The name Sturm und Drang or storm and stress refers properly to the pre-romantic literature of the period, notably to a series of works by Goethe and Schiller. The story behind the last movement, with the musicians leaving one by one as a hint to their employer that they needed a break, is well known but that doesn’t diminish the power of the music; it remains unhackneyed no matter how many times I must have heard it. Perhaps the performance here doesn’t quite match the power of a Vanguard recording with Antonio Janigro at the helm, which used to be available, but it comes pretty close.
No.48 also comes from the Sturm und Drang period. Its nickname refers to the belief formerly held that it was composed specially for a visit from the empress, Maria Theresa. For some reason she always seems to develop an spurious extra ‘i’ in the name of this symphony, perhaps by false association with the German name Mariatheresien-symphonie. As with No.45, it’s easy to see why the symphonies of this period came to be linked with the literature of the period. My only reservation about Fischer’s performance of this symphony may sound irrational, but the modern horns hit their notes just slightly too comfortably in comparison with period-instrument performances.
It’s not that I didn’t enjoy Fischer’s account of this work, but compare the period-instrument performance from Roy Goodman and the Hanover Band on an inexpensive Hyperion recording (Helios CDH55119, with Nos. 49 and 50, £6.99 or less; £5.99 for mp3 or lossless download: see March 2012/2 Download Roundup) and the extra adventure involved in hitting the right notes adds an extra touch of zest to the performance, as does the inclusion of a just-audible harpsichord. Any one of the budget-price discs from this series might make a useful addition to the Nimbus ‘Great Symphonies’ set; it’s a series that was never quite completed, though it contains recordings from all periods of Haydn’s symphonic output.
If you’ve fallen for the appeal of Haydn in Sturm und Drang mode, Nimbus offer another 2-CD set of Nos. 43, 44, 49, 52, 59 and 64 (here).
Symphony No.82 moves us on several years to Haydn’s visit to Paris in 1785/7. Fischer’s performances of the six symphonies from this period are available on a pair of Nimbus CDs (NI5419-20 - £16.00 post free from MusicWeb International here). The only reservation that I have about recommending the ‘Great Symphonies’ set is that you may well fall for the charms of No.82 and want the whole set. If you doubt the validity of the ‘bear’ nickname for this symphony, Fischer’s growly finale makes it seem thoroughly appropriate, even though it isn’t one of Haydn’s own devising. Here again, only a preference for a period-instrument performance such as Harnoncourt’s Deutsche Harmonia Mundi 3-CD set (82876606022, all repeats observed) or Roy Goodman’s on Hyperion (Nos. 82-4, CDH55123) would be reason to look elsewhere – I’m happy with either approach.
The Oxford Symphony was performed at Haydn’s award of an honorary doctorate by the university, so the title has some validity even though in the end he failed to compose the new work he had intended for the occasion and substituted one that was already well known in England. Simon Rattle’s account of this and other symphonies from the period between the Paris visit and Haydn’s first to London has received critical praise (Nos.88-92 and Sinfonia Concertante, EMI 3942372: Recording of the Month, but I find it too heavy by comparison with the best period performances. You don’t need period instruments, however, to make the symphonies of this period sound well, as Eugen Jochum demonstrated in his BPO recordings of Nos. 88 and 98 and his later LPO set of the ‘London’ Symphonies and as Fischer demonstrates in his version of the Oxford. This is modern-instrument Haydn without the ‘big band’ effect that I find from Rattle and I found it an excellent complement to Roy Goodman’s period-band on Hyperion Helios CDH55125.
The nicknames of Haydn’s symphonies don’t always translate from one language to another. In German No. 94 is known as the Drum Stroke Symphony (mit dem Paukenschlag), so easily confused with what is known in English as the Drum Roll Symphony, No.103. The English nickname, Surprise, like the German, refers to the loud stroke in the slow movement, designed to wake the ladies. I first got to know this symphony from Beecham’s early-1950s Columbia (CBS) performance, once available on the Philips Classical Favourites label – no longer available but his later 1950s remake, still in mono, is on the first of two EMI Gemini 2-CD sets: details below. If Fischer and his team don’t quite recapture the magic of that version – could anyone? – I can’t think of any better recent version.
Hungarian orchestras and conductors seem to have a particularly strong rapport with Haydn – surely it can’t just be due to the fact that he composed for the Esterházy family whose palaces spanned what is now the international border. There used to be several CDs of his music on the Hungaroton White Label which, if reissued at budget price, would still be well worth considering. David Blum recorded several of the symphonies with the Esterházy Orchestra for Vanguard which, like those Hungarotons, I still listen to with pleasure. Intermittently available on CD, there’s a very strong case for the latter especially to be reissued. Despite their Eastern European name, the Esterházy Orchestra are American. Still available, however, and of genuine Hungarian provenance, are the successful recordings which Naxos has made of Haydn symphonies with the Nicolaus Esterházy Sinfonia and Béla Drahos.
Good as all these are, the Austro-Hungarian Orchestra, drawn from top-flight Austrian and Hungarian players, is best of all. These recordings were made over a period of seven years, during which time the orchestra had three Konzertmeister, or leaders: Rainer Küchl, Erich Binder and Wolfgang Redik. The quality of performance over that period is remarkably consistent.
I’m not suggesting that these are perfect – even if such a thing were possible. I would have liked a little more generosity in the matter of first movement repeats, for example. Without necessarily wishing for every repeat to be observed, as Harnoncourt does in his most recent recording of the Paris Symphonies for Deutsche Harmonia Mundi, I do feel that there’s imbalance in Fischer’s No.82 – Doráti’s, too, for that matter – where the first and second movements are almost exactly the same length and the finale is shorter than either. Goodman strikes a neat compromise by observing the first-movement repeats but not those in the finale (Hyperion Helios CDH55123, with Nos.83 and 84).
Just occasionally, too, I felt that some of Fischer’s ritardandi were slightly artificial, but that’s only if one judges them against those of Thomas Beecham, who somehow manages to make everything he does seem thoroughly natural and Haydnesque, even though he clung to outdated editions which he knew to be erroneous when better texts were already available. See the review of his EMI recordings of the London Symphonies – Bargain of the Month – and my November 2011/1 Download Roundup. Beulah have reissued Beecham’s Symphonies Nos. 101 and 103 – see April 2012/1 Download Roundup.
The recordings are excellent throughout. Even the two earliest here, of Nos. 45 and 94 from 1988, are not at all bad but the later recordings sound even better. With short but valuable notes this inexpensive set is a strong contender.
-- Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International
Boccherini: Cello Concertos Vol 1 / Hugh, Halstead, Et Al
When many years ago I questioned Jacqueline du Pre about choosing it for her recording, she promptly justified herself, saying, ‘But the slow movement is so lovely.’ She was quite right, as her classic recording makes clear (EMI, 10/67), but that movement was transferred from another work, in fact No. 7 in G, one of the four works here. Tim Hugh’s dedicated account of this lovely G minor movement is a high spot of this issue, with rapt, hushed playing not just from the soloist but also from the excellent Scottish Chamber Orchestra under Anthony Halstead. It develops into a long cadenza, a sustained meditation lasting almost two minutes out of the six-and-a-half, and I should have liked to have it identified in the notes.
As it is, Hugh offers substantial cadenzas not just in the first movements of each work, but in slow movements and finales too, though none is as extended as the one in the G minor slow movement. Halstead, as a period specialist and a horn virtuoso as well as a conductor, matches his soloist in the dedication of these performances, clarifying textures (not least in the ripe horn parts, presumably played on natural instruments) and encouraging Hugh to choose speeds on the fast side, with easily flowing slow movements and outer movements which test the soloist’s virtuosity to the very limit, without sounding breathless.
The formula in all four works is similar, even though each has its individual delights, with strong, foursquare first movements, slow movements that sound rather Handelian and galloping finales in triple time. Not just for those who know only the old Grutzmacher concerto, all this will be a delightful discovery. And remember, there are two more issues to come.
-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [10/1999]
Mahler: Symphony No.7 (LP)
JACQUET FILES VOLUME 7
Bax: Symphonies 1 & 7 / Fredman, Leppard, LPO
Anguished harmonies seem more prevalent in Symphony No. 7, although some glittering moments bring contrast. The longer paragraphs carry with them a certain grandeur that is most affecting, a certain quiet nobility that inspires some sort of awe. The Lento (with a Piu mosso section marked, ‘In Legendary Mood’) is rather beautiful, although perhaps it is a trifle over-long (it begins to sprawl rather here). The ending is touchingly tender, though.
The finale begins with a nod to Britten in its open-air exuberance, and later features some brass writing that would not have disgraced Walton’s Crown Imperial. The close is certainly grand (although do I detect a hint of bombast?), and the noble, long-breathed string melodies are here even more effective because of Lyrita’s superb, warm recording. Of course we are in competition with Chandos’s Bryden Thomson and Vernon Handley, two conductors whose qualifications in this repertoire are fully acknowledged, not to mention David Lloyd Jones’s Bax recordings for Naxos. Yet Leppard’s instincts are accurate and always convincing.
This is a valuable disc, not least because it puts two substantive works by Bax side-by-side. Both performances do the scores justice and the recording is, as usual from this source, exemplary.
-- Colin Clarke, MusicWeb International
Schubert: Symphonies Nos. 8 "Unfinished" & 9 "The Great"
With regard to the universally esteemed Symphony No. 8 Unfinished its history continues to be a matter of much debate. Schubert authority Nikolaus Harnoncourt recognises the symphony was intended as a four movement score although he is convinced there must have been a point when Schubert decided the two completed movements were perfect on their own. In the first movement Allegro moderato chief conductor Philippe Jordan ushers the listener into Schubert’s enthralling and dramatic sound-world with a reading that maintains a remarkable inner tension. Marked in the Andante con moto is the bitter-sweet quality of drama and breathtaking allure that Jordan imparts. The woodwind playing is top drawer.
Harnoncourt firmly believes that the ‘Great’ C Major is “a colossal edifice in which Schubert remakes the symphony … anyone who has experienced this masterpiece is no longer the same as before.” Schubert’s final symphony is a work the composer described in his personal letters as “a grand symphony.” Here maestro Jordan gives a disarming reading that in turn combines magnificent drama and deep compassion. It is hard to ignore the Beethovenian/Wagnerian influence on the opening horn calls. The resolute playing of the expansive opening movement is tinged with a dark hue. Jordan excels in the Andante con moto maintaining an exemplary pulse throughout. I savour the encounter between the primarily pastoral quality of the fresh outdoors and the dramatic squally extremes. The dignified march theme on the oboe is a highlight. The spirited dance melodies of the Scherzo receive polished playing and resolute bite. Jordan exercises judicious control of the bold and courageous Finale: Allegro Vivace a movement full of colourful incident that feels both compelling and expressive.
Despite its excellence this Wiener Symphoniker coupling has to compete with a wealth of rival accounts. My first choice recording for the Unfinished is from the Berliner Philharmoniker under Günter Wand: raptly beautiful playing engages the listener from start to finish. Wand was recorded live in 1995 from the Philharmonie, Berlin on RCA Victor Red Seal. My single standout recording of the ‘Great’ C Major is from Claudio Abbado with the Orchestra Mozart assembled at live concerts in 2011 at Bologna Auditorium Manzoni and Bolzano Auditorium, Italy. Recently released Abbado’s captivating DG account with a wealth of orchestral detail is quite superbly played and recorded.
On the other hand it may be more sensible to buy a complete set of the Schubert symphonies. Although the competition is extremely fierce I can suggest four recommendable boxes. My first choice is conducted by Karl Böhm and the Berliner Philharmoniker recorded in 1963/71 in the exceptional acoustic of Jesus-Christus-Kirche, Berlin. As a Schubert conductor Böhm has few peers. He conducts typically warm and polished performances on Deutsche Grammophon. On Decca there is an excellently played and recorded set from István Kertész and the Wiener Philharmoniker recorded in 1963/71 at the Sofiensaal, Vienna.
There is a quite outstanding set from the Berliner Philharmoniker under Harnoncourt recorded live in 2003/06 at Philharmonie, Berlin on the orchestra’s own label. Harnoncourt has made lengthy and serious study of Schubert’s manuscripts removing the unauthentic revisions that have become part and parcel of the scores. From start to finish the well prepared Berliner Philharmoniker plays magnificently with a sense of spontaneity that carries the listener along on an enthralling journey. Rather under the radar but well worth investigating is the impressive 2013 release conducted by Lorin Maazel with the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks. All the symphonies were recorded live by them in 2001 at the Prinzregententheater, Munich and after a decade have finally been issued on BR-Klassik.
Returning to this Wiener Symphoniker release, the recording engineers can be congratulated for a satisfying sound quality that is especially clear and well balanced. Jordan draws expressive yet firmly controlled playing from his Vienna orchestra. The tempi, rhythm, phrasing and dynamics are shaped into one impressive whole. This is an engaging CD that will grace any serious collection.
- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International
Shostakovich: Symphony No. 7 / Jansons, Bavarian Radio Symphony
Dmitri Shostakovich was one of the most important composers of the 20th century. With his works - most notably his fifteen symphonies, which took Late Romantic music and transferred it to the modern age – he has shaped the repertoire. His aesthetic is determined by the impact of the Second World War and also by the political conditions in the Soviet Union under Stalin. Forced to work for the dictator, he also had to make numerous concessions to him. It was in the war year of 1941 that Shostakovich composed his Symphony No. 7 in C major, opus 60. It comes in the approximate middle of his oeuvre and was named the “Leningrad” symphony because Shostakovich dedicated it to his native city (today’s St. Petersburg). The marching theme in the first movement was composed even before the outbreak of the German-Soviet war, in around 1939 or 1940. He wrote further movements in Leningrad, during its siege by German troops from September 8, 1941 onwards, and finally completed the symphony in Kuibyshev (Samara) on the Volga, having been evacuated from the war-torn city together with his family on October 1, 1941. It was there on March 5, 1942 that the symphony received its world premiere, performed by the similarly evacuated orchestra of Moscow’s Bolshoi Theatre under the direction of Samuil Samossud. The Moscow premiere on March 27 took place in perilous circumstances, but even an air raid alert could not convince the audience to go to the shelters, so captivated were they by the music. The music has retained its fascination to this day, and the Seventh Symphony is considered Shostakovich's best-known work. Mariss Jansons, who himself ranks as a specialist in the Slavic repertoire as well as the symphonic music of the 19th and 20th centuries, has tackled this masterpiece on numerous occasions. This performance, released for the first time, was recorded at concerts on February 11 and 12, 2016 at the Philharmonie in Munich’s Gasteig. Here, under Jansons' baton, the musicians of the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks interpret Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony as a shattering testimony to the epoch in which it was written as well as a profound expression of our present age. The live recording of those concerts is now being released by BR-KLASSIK in an exemplary interpretation of one of the most important symphonic works of the 20th century.
Jones: Symphonies No 4, 7, 8 / Groves, Thomson, Et Al
JONES Symphonies: No. 4, “In memory of Dylan Thomas” ; No. 7; No. 8 1 • Charles Groves, cond; Bryden Thomson, cond; 1 Royal PO; BBC Welsh SO 1 • LYRITA 329 (78:05)
Welsh composer Daniel Jones (1912–1993) was born in Pembroke and raised in Swansea, where he forged a friendship with the poet Dylan Thomas. After study in Swansea, Jones moved to London’s Royal Academy of Music. His output included concertos for violin, oboe, and cello; choral music, including the Oratorio, St. Peter ; an opera, The Knife ; chamber music; and 13 symphonies. Jones’s musical language is essentially tonal. He originated a rhythmic method for heightened expression—a device that he called “complex meters” involving maintaining and often juxtaposing, complex and often-irregular time signatures over a long timespan. Musically, Jones was influenced by Purcell, Haydn, and Janá?ek, but his language is personal. His symphonies can be broadly divided into three groups: Symphonies Nos. 1–5 (1944–58), conceived within the late-Romantic symphonic tradition and scored for large forces; Symphonies Nos. 6–9 (1964–72) moving towards greater structural experimentation, unusual combinations of instruments, and shorter lengths; and Symphonies Nos. 10–13 (1976–92) concerned with concision and paring down germ ideas to the barest essentials.
Daniel Jones’s Fourth Symphony, considered to be one of the composer’s finest achievements, was composed in memory of the poet Dylan Thomas, who had died, tragically young, in New York on November 17, 1953. Their relationship had been close; they had shared a zest for life. It was Jones who had written the folk-like music for Under Milk Wood. The Symphony is, understandably, elegiac; the opening Maestoso movement speaks bleakly of tragedy and loss, with a sometimes funeral-march tread, but also of defiance. The central Allegro capriccioso scampers along; it is light-hearted and capricious. Its playfulness might suggest the larger-than-life characters from Under Milk Wood , and perhaps the real-life antics of composer and poet, while its slower, sadder, middle section is more reflective, sometimes darkly so; it has a vulnerability, a sadness—and regret? The final Adagio-moderato-adagio is turbulent and disturbing; the music’s violence seemingly released reluctantly in a brief coda that highlights a solo violin with pizzicato cellos and basses.
The Seventh Symphony is cast in five movements, although the fourth and fifth share the same track. Completed in 1972 and dedicated to Sir Charles Groves, it was written as a commission from the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. The work has an unsettling ambiguity, the music often lurking in dark corners and having many abrupt contradictions. The most immediately appealing material is in the quicksilver Scherzando that employs a xylophone to heighten its puckish, tipsy fun, but even here tragedy stalks. The Eighth Symphony has five movements too. The music is enigmatic and ferocious, lyrical and searching, and not without a sardonic wit. Its extraordinary, arresting opening chords are sounded on marimba. Imaginative orchestrations abound: the often-spectral third movement has some amazing interchanges between piano and vibraphone; the elegiac fourth movement includes harmonic passages for kettledrums under heartfelt music for strings, muted trumpets, and softly played trombones; and the high-spirited finale sounds triumphant trumpets and tubular bells.
Strong performances of some quite original music. A rewarding disc for the adventurous.
FANFARE: Ian Lace
Ernst: Complete Music Vol 3 / Sherban Lupu, Ian Hobson
ERNST Introduction and Fantasy on Le Quattour Favori by F. Halévy , Op. 6. Élégie , Op. 10. Introduction, Variations, and Finale on a Waltz by Charles Shunke and Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst, Op. 26. Hungarian Airs, Op. 22. HELLER and ERNST Pensées fugitives , 7-12. OSBORNE and ERNST Souvenirs of La Juive • Sherban Lupu (vn); Ian Hobson (pn) • TOCCATA 0163 (80:55)
Toccata’s series, Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst: Complete Music , continues with its third volume, comprising two sets of variations, the once famous but now at least familiar Élégie , the second half of Pensées fugitives (the first half having appeared in the series’s first volume), an opera fantasy, and the formidable Airs hongrois variés (here with a cadenza by Arthur Hartmann), all played, once again, by violinist Sherban Lupu and pianist Ian Hobson. The first work in the collection bears the title Introduction et Variations Brillantes en form de Fantaisie pour le violon sur le Quatuor favori de Ludovic de F. Halévy and consists of a set of four variations on a theme from Halévy’s opera Ludovic (according to the notes, Halévy completed the work begun by Ferdinand Hérold). As in the earlier volumes, Lupu produces a slightly acidulous tone, but he wields it suggestively, leaping with great effect into the higher registers in the introduction and playing with the pathos and drama the music, as well as the composer’s reputation, demands. As in the other volumes, Toccata has provided separate tracks for each section—the introduction, theme, variations, and concluding passages—so that reader-listeners can follow the highly detailed—and highly informative—booklet notes by Ernst’s biographer, Mark Rowe. In the variations, Lupu communicates the brilliance and aplomb (listen to his strutting staccato double-stops sprinkled with pizzicatos or the transcendentally difficult finale) that must have made such a strong impression on Ernst’s listeners (he seemed to have known—and been admired by—virtually everybody, including Liszt, with whom he played Beethoven’s “Kreutzer” Sonata, Joachim, Berlioz, Mendelssohn, Robert and Clara Schumann, Paganini, Brahms, Wieniawski, and Charles Hallé, while the perceptive 19th-century violin historian, the Rev. H. R. Haweis, identified him as the greatest of all the violinists he’d heard).
The notes relate the hyper-romantic story of the Élégie sur la mort d’un objet chéri , which Ernst composed upon learning of the death of a young woman with whom he had fallen in love years earlier. Lupu creates the violinistic equivalent of a sob—many times over—in his heartfelt performance of this piece, which includes Louis Spohr’s characteristically chromatic introduction—the practice of including, which Rowe traces to Joachim and August Wilhelmj. Compare this deeply moving reading to the blander but still affecting one by Ingolf Turban (without Spohr’s introduction, on Claves CD 50-9613, Fanfare 20:6), the rich-toned but again less electifying one by Ilya Grubert (with Spohr’s introduction but also with some heavy breathing that doesn’t really help make Ernst’s mournful point—Hyperion 67619, Fanfare 31: 6), and Grubert’s similar reading with orchestra (without Spohr’s introduction but with the weight of the orchestra to give it ballast, which Steven E. Ritter reviewed in Fanfare 30:5 and I reviewed in Fanfare 31:1—Naxos 8.557565), and it becomes clear how much more pathos Lupu wrings from the piece. The notes give the next work the title, Introduction, Variations et Final, Dialogués, & Concertans sur une Valse favorite pour Piano et Violin par Charles Schunke et H. W. Ernst , and the work, with its showy pianism, recalls the Thème Allemande Varié , also by the two in collaboration, which appears in the series’ first volume. In this case, they’ve embellished in four variations a waltz by Johann Strauss, Sr., creating from it a highly entertaining, rhythmically vibrant pastiche that relies for its effect more heavily on pianistic than on violinistic brilliance. Hobson meets the challenge, as does Lupu—handily in both cases (and the violin part’s not at all easy, even if it’s overshadowed by the piano).
The Pensées fugitives include a Rêverie, Un Caprice, Inquiétude, Prière pendant l’orage, Intermezzo , and a Thème original de H. W. Ernst , with a variation and finale. (The identification of Ernst must have been necessary because Ernst published these pieces with pianist Stephen Heller—and though Ernst wasn’t their sole composer, he did give performances of them.) In the Rêverie, Lupu plays some portamentos that will strike many listeners as old-fashioned, but will seem to others the most effective way in which to heighten the expressivity—which they do. The Caprice doesn’t suggest the difficulty of Paganini’s works by the same name, but communicates the joviality and indeterminacy at the title’s root (a leaping goat?). The restless Inquiétude gives way to the moving Prière, to which, according to the notes, a storm serves as the background. Lupu and Hobson capture the prayer’s urgency as effectively as they do the storm’s tumultuousness. The Intermezzo, more playful, nevertheless reflects darker Affekten in its accompaniment, at least in Hobson’s performance. The theme and variations doesn’t empty Ernst’s bag of tricks as do the other works, but the variations seem strongly characterized, in the drawing-room manner, and the duo digs the marrow out of each of these moods and posturings. The booklet notes give the epigraphs printed with these pieces and descriptions of each.
Lupu and Hobson make Souvenirs de l’Opéra La Juive de F. Halevy [sic] pour Piano et Violon Concertants Composés par Osborne et Ernst , another collaboration—this time with George Osborne, according to the notes, an Irish pianist—sound quintessentially operatic, in each of its two sections. The intensity of these movements, and their performances, gives way to the breathtaking swagger of the Hungarian Airs , which Rowe identifies as one of Wieniawski’s favorite warhorses and even cites as an influence (in its rising 10th) on Edward Elgar’s Violin Concerto. Ruggiero Ricci recorded this piece twice, mounting its technical challenges with more breathtaking panache (if greater recklessness) than does Lupu, although Ricci doesn’t capture to a significantly greater degree its ethnic coloring or the affecting lyricism of its second theme, in which, once again, Lupu seems almost to sob. And Hartmann’s brilliant and commanding cadenza fits the work hand-in-glove.
For those who haven’t yet discovered the riches of Toccata’s series, this third volume might be as good a place as any to begin—but surely not to end. There’s a diamond in every sock drawer—almost, in fact, in every sock. The volumes of this series ought to pass directly through the Want List into the Hall of Fame, but it may be good for readers to learn of them more expeditiously among the pages of ordinary reviews. But the usual precautions ought to apply: Not recommended for those with heart problems, and so forth. They’re that exciting.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
Bruckner: Symphonies 4, 7 & 9 / Schaller, Philharmonie Festiva
BRUCKNER Symphonies: No. 4, “Romantic”; No. 7; No. 9 (Finale completion by William Carragan) • Gerd Schaller, cond; Philharmonie Festiva • PROFIL PH11028 (4 CDs: 214:16) Live: Erbrach 7/29/2007, 7/29/2008, 8/1/2010
The main interest here will be in William Carragan’s completion of Bruckner’s extensive sketches for the finale of the Ninth. The completion supplies architectural context for the first three movements, thus providing a valuable corrective to posterity’s deeply ingrained perception of this symphony as “unfinished,” like Schubert’s Eighth (coincidentally, both “ending” with a slow movement in an exotic, otherworldly E Major). That said, I find myself ambivalent about the enterprise for two reasons. First, the quality of the existing music: Although Bruckner left a lot of the movement in a relatively advanced state of sketching—the complete exposition and substantial portions of the development and recapitulation—much of the thematic content itself nevertheless leaves an arid, underdeveloped impression that (to my ears) fails to approach the level of the preceding movements. If he had lived to do more with it, he would surely have transformed it far beyond its existing state. More seriously, much of the movement is completely missing (including all of the coda); in contrast to the finale of Mahler’s 10th, we lack any kind of comprehensive blueprint to work with, in the form of a continuity draft for the entire movement. Carragan’s completion comes into competition with an alternative one by Nicola Samale and Giuseppe Mazzuca, which has been recorded by Eliahu Inbal and the Frankfurt Radio Orchestra (Teldec). Given the lack of any concrete sketches for the coda, any conjectural realization will effectively be an original composition. Carragan’s coda is longer and more imposing than Samale-Mazzuca’s, using, in addition to thematic recalls from the first movement, references to the first movement of the Eighth, as well as borrowing the chorale-apotheosis strategy from the finale of the Fifth.
This performance is billed as the recorded premiere of Carragan’s 2010 revision, but his own notes don’t offer any information on how it differs from his earlier version. That was recorded in 1996 by Yoav Talmi with the Oslo Philharmonic (Chandos), but since I don’t know that recording I can’t comment on differences. In any event I’m glad to have both the Carragan and Samale-Mazzuca completions. Another tack is taken by Harnoncourt and the Vienna Philharmonic (RCA, live), who present Bruckner’s sketches in the format of a lecture-recital, without adding anything (spoken commentary in both German and English)—here, I must confess I find their breaking off with the end of the sketches a more moving experience than anyone’s entirely conjectural original composing.
So there’s much of interest here, although I would have thought that a release of the Ninth alone might have been a more competitive proposition—how many prospective purchasers will really want yet another Fourth and Seventh played by a less-than household-name conductor and orchestra?
Happily, the performances are consistently fine ones that will grace any Bruckner collection. The Philharmonie Festiva is none other than the famous Munich Bach Orchestra, augmented for the purpose by players from the other Munich orchestras. They make a handsome sound—rich, sweet, recognizably Bavarian. The recorded acoustic (the Abbey Church in Ebrach) is ideal for Bruckner, reverberant but with plenty of bite and detail.
The Fourth is lyrically shaped with a natural flow, played straight with little deviation from the initially established tempos, though by no means inflexible. There are many imaginative details, starting with the evocatively tapered horn phrases at the opening. Indeed, the brass playing throughout is of exceptional quality, conjuring the work’s forest atmosphere most effectively. I occasionally miss the stronger interpretive profile of the great Bruckner conductors of the present and recent past (e.g., Abbado, Dohnányi, Harnoncourt, Wand)—as in the Andante, whose grey expanses don’t have quite enough tension to my ears.
The Seventh also goes beautifully, with a singing intensity, transparent textures, and an atmospheric first-movement coda. The Adagio has an attractive quality of breathing spontaneity, and an ear-catching sheer beauty of sound, from the thrilling amplitude of the C-Major climax to the purple-hued low brass in the coda. Schaller captures the Scherzo’s rustic Schwung in rich colors and biting detail, while his finale is less febrile than usual (13:00) with perhaps just a hint of stolidity.
As for the familiar portion of the Ninth, the first movement is beautifully lucid with much absorbing textural detail—for example, in the thickly scored stretches of the exposition’s closing section (Rehearsal G ff.), or the nightmarish march episode inserted into the recapitulation (Rehearsal O ff., A?-Minor). Altogether the music’s keel comes across as slightly too even, including a noticeable tendency to smooth out Bruckner’s injunctions to short articulations (for instance, in the quickening woodwind figure at Rehearsal A, along with the preceding violin motive in quarter notes, mm. 28 ff.). The Scherzo is taken slower, and is less demonic in character, than usual, but still very powerful in its smooth, weighty way. The E-Major Adagio is straight, lucid, and lyrical, well shaped and sonorously imposing, if expressively less febrile than some.
Overall, these are high-quality performances of much distinction, and the rarity of Carragan’s completion makes the set a desirable proposition for Bruckner collectors.
FANFARE: Boyd Pomeroy
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These performances were given at the Ebrach Summer Music Festival as part of the Bruckner Festival in 2007, 2008 and 2010. In co-operation with Bavarian Radio the recordings were made in the glorious setting of the Ebrach Abbey church in Bavaria which on this evidence has a splendid acoustic.
The Philharmonie Festiva may be a new name to many readers. This is a highly accomplished orchestra comprising mainly members of the Munich Bach Soloists augmented by musicians from the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and the Munich Philharmonic. Taking the baton is Bamberg-born conductor Gerd Schaller who is the founder and musical director of the Ebrach Summer Music Festival.
The performance of the Ninth Symphony contains the first recording of the revised 2010 version of the finale completed by William Carragan. Carragan is a contributing editor of the Anton Bruckner Collected Edition and has prepared a new edition of Bruckner’s Symphony No. 2. From 1979 to 1983 he worked on a finale for the Bruckner Ninth. That first completion can be heard from the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Yoav Talmi on Chandos CHAN 8468/9 but revisions also followed in 2003 and 2006.
Composed in 1874, the Symphony No. 4 in E flat major, known as the Romantic, has been given wholesale revisions at various times. The 1878/1880 version recorded on this disc has been described by composer and musicologist Robert Simpson as, “ clean and lean”. The memorable opening under Gerd Schaller is marvellously done; immediately convincing. Schaller’s pacing is impressive navigating the flow and broad sweep of the writing with broad assurance. The horns have a significant part throughout and the Philharmonie Festiva brass is in impressive form displaying a burnished tone.
Composed in 1881-83, the Symphony No. 7 in E major is the most popular of Bruckner’s symphonies and it brought the composer the greatest success he had known. It was Arthur Nikisch who conducted the première at Leipzig in 1884. Schaller attains great nobility in a performance that leaves a powerful effect. The orchestral climaxes are remarkable with Schaller astutely building the tension from calm hush to furious climax.
Bruckner was working on his Symphony No. 9 in D minor at the time of his death in 1896. The first three movements were completed with sketches left for a fourth. Bruckner said, “ I have served my purpose of earth; I have done what I could, and there is only one thing I would still like to be granted: the strength to finish my Ninth Symphony.” At Bruckner’s own suggestion the unfinished symphony was often performed with the Te deum serving as the final movement. For this Ebrach Abbey performance Schaller uses the revised 2010 version of the final movement as completed by William Carragan. In this reading I was struck how confidently Schaller demonstrates a real understanding of the score’s structure. There’s a splendid clarity about his reading. In addition I love the way Schaller emphasises the spiritual qualities especially in the gloriously played second movement Adagio.
This is a really impressive release. The engineers have done a remarkable job providing a clear, well-balanced sound. There are decent notes in the booklet. Carragan’s completion of the Ninth Symphony is an added attraction.
-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International
Nielsen: Cantatas / Holten, Knudsen, Andersen, Hedergaard
NIELSEN-BANGERT Cantata for the Opening Ceremony of the National Exhibition in Aarhus NIELSEN Music for Hans Hartvig Seedorf Pedersen’s Homage to Holberg. Helge Rode’s Prologue to Shakespeare: Ariel’s Song. 1 Cantata for the Annual University Commemoration • Bo Holten, cond; Ditte Højgaard Andersen (sop); Mathias Hedergaard (ten); 1 Palle Knudsen (bar); Jens Albinus (nar); Aarhus Cathedral Ch; Danish Natl Op Ch; Aarhus SO • DACAPO 8.226079 (65:52 Text and Translation)
Cantatas by Carl Nielsen? Yes! Surprised? So was I, and I’m sure you’ll be too. One reason they aren’t known is that they were composed for specific celebratory functions whose initial presentation was interrupted by speeches, cheering, polka bands, more speeches, and lots of drinking. Not exactly an atmosphere conducive to great art. Add to that the fact that Nielsen didn’t want to compose some of them, had to work with an over-verbose librettist in one (and assigned half the composition duties to one of his pupils, Emilius Bangert), and carried on a running argument with the committee that commissioned it over the libretto of another, and you can well imagine that these aren’t among the composer’s best works.
Of course, this doesn’t mean that they’re bad pageant music—certainly not as bad as Beethoven’s Wellington’s Victory, which the composer practically laughed at until it turned out to be a really popular money-maker—but the music is only occasionally interesting because the texts are only occasionally interesting. In the first cantata, the Nielsen-Bangert collaboration written in 1909, the most interesting piece by far is No. 4, the one that the two composers split pretty much down the middle (Nielsen wrote the first 117 bars, Bangert the rest). Bangert’s other contributions, Nos. 2, 3, and 7, are by no means “bad” music—the older composer supervised his pupil’s compositions and possibly made suggestions—but they lack character and originality. It’s the age-old battle between craft and art.
The second cantata on this album is in fact the last one composed, in 1923. This is mature Nielsen, and since he had a strong affinity for Holberg anyway, having set his text for the opera Maskerade to music almost 20 years earlier, his heart was really in it. The beginning is not promising—it starts with a pompous brass fanfare in the same vein, and even the same key, that ended the last piece of the previous cantata—but it soon develops into interesting music. Nielsen himself said, “It is … a shame that this music is only for this particular occasion, but it is constructed in such a fashion that it can be performed repeatedly and in other circumstances [emphasis mine].” The first movement features a quartet of Muses; here, soprano Andersen is joined by soprano Eline Denice Risager and mezzos Birgitte Mosegaard Pedersen and Bolette Bruno Hansen. The second soprano and mezzo are not terribly good, but they get by. The second movement features a baritone solo; the third is purely choral.
This is followed by one excerpt, a tenor solo, from a cantata celebrating the tercentennial of Shakespeare’s death (1916). It is so isolated because it was published and performed separately after the event, primarily by Danish tenor Anders Brems. It’s a very nice piece that, unfortunately, is sung by Hedergaard with unsteady tone.
The Cantata for the Annual University Commemoration , written in 1908, is the only one of Nielsen’s cantatas written for a recurring occasion. It is one of the most thoughtfully composed, and most cantata-like in alternating sung recitatives accompanied by piano with full choral-orchestral passages. Again, ignoring the text, this is music that could be performed to other texts for other occasions. There is an unusual touch of harmonic darkness to the music of the second number, where Nielsen also cleverly integrated the piano used in the recitative into the orchestral fabric; during the second recitative, the piano’s role expands into almost song-cycle-like accompaniment. This is a truly inspired bit of writing. Toward the end of the movement, the piano’s role changes again, accompanying four horns in concerto fashion before the chorus returns, then remaining as a prominent instrument along with the full strings. A slow tempo, muted violins, and ostinato bass create a mysterious mood in No. 3.
What amazed me the most about these works, particularly the last two, which are pretty good and original music, is the fact that in each case Nielsen was forced to work on a short deadline, barely more than two or three weeks. His lack of interest in the Aarhus cantata undoubtedly led to his creating the shallowest music. As to the performances, they are absolutely first-rate except for the aforementioned unsteadiness of tenor Hedergaard and two of the lady Muses. Andersen has a very light-toned, pretty Bach-Mozart-type soprano voice. Although baritone Knudsen also shows some signs of unsteadiness, he is generally very good. Diction is crystal-clear. Both the Aarhus Choir and Orchestra and the Danish National Opera Chorus are rock-solid, transparent in texture, and firmly committed to giving the best performances they can. Conductor Holten walks a fine line between creating excitement commensurate to the occasions in question and delivering excellent, well-contoured performances, and he succeeds handsomely in this task. And, happily, the sonics are crystal-clear, no muddiness of sound. If you can ignore the bombast of the first cantata, then, this is a worthy addition to your Nielsen collection.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Wuorinen: Music Of Two Decades Vol 3 / Miller, Fine Arts Quartet
It's a lot easier to tell you what the electronic piece, Time's Encomium, isn't: it isn't imitative of nature or acoustic musical instruments. If the point seems inappropriate or trivial, I remind the reader that a great deal of synthesized sound appears to exist for these kitsch aspirations. So then, while Times's Encomium in this narrow regard falls on the ear as abstraction pure but far from simple, I urge the reader not to conflate abstract with offputting. The piece abounds with playful energies. When disparate sounds interact as friskily as they do here, play of one kind or another, whether or not one knows the game's name, is obviously the thing, Wuorinen is the kind of cerebral practitioner who requires one's attention in a state of openness. We do not hear Time's Encomium transpiring toward a direction. The logic is rather that of extraordinary fireflies of various heft, hue, and gravitas. As anyone who's spent a country night outdoors, a lightshow's enjoyment need not connect with those forces that stage it. The listener is content (if he's wise) to perceive the co.nposer as firefly or, better yet, the firefly's First Mover. Wuorinen composed the work between 1968-69 at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center In New York.“ . . . The RCA synthesizer . . . is prejudiced by design toward 12-tone equal temperament . . . [I]f one accepts the limitation as a boundary condition . . . it ceases to be a problem. . . . Afterwards, I made the large-scale structure by processing the synthesized materials in one of the [center's] analog studios. Thus the work consists of a core of synthesized music, most of which appears in Part I, surrounded and interlarded with analog-studio transformations of that music. The synthesized [can be] identified by its clarity of pitch. . . . The processed almost always contains reverberation. Thus metaphorically, the listener stands in the midst of the synthesized music, which presents itself . . . with maximal clarity; and stretching away from him, becoming more and more blurred in detail, the various transformations . . .“ I assume that Wuorinen speaks in “standing] in the midst“ of the four-channel original, which one hears to his regret as a two-channel mixdown. We are back on my Fanfare hobby horse.
In no way strange to say, Wuorinen's Piano Sonata (No. 1, 1969) appears on its surface to share in those compositional impulses and schemata that yielded Time's Encomium. This seems to me especially true of the music's fast-paced, angular energies. Of particular interest is the sonata's performer, the late Robert Black. As others have for David Tudor, Wuorinen composed an obviously difficult work in large measure as a tribute to Black's strengths and sympathies. (Because music absorbs its background, we tend to overlook an executant's sometime part in a work's conception, no less its successful performance—which Black's certainly sounds to be.)
Wuorinen's comments about his here handsomely performed First String Quartet have the ring of a manifesto. “The [quartet of 1971] reflects fundamental concerns . . . with questions of large-scale form, in particular the issue of an appropriate developmental—or 'directed'—structure suited to a non tonal environment. I had already become . . . impatient with [much of new music's directionlessness] and wanted to establish formal procedures that would allow local flexibility while solidly undergirding a musical progress analogous to the very powerfully directed structure of tonality [my italics].“ Wuorinen then gives a summary of his solution, which need not detain us here. Enough to know what was then on the mind that remains aloof from a world, in too large part, of half-baked juvenalia. The String Quartet (No. 1) plays vis-à-vis the electronic and solo-piano work a tad richer in lyrical interest, in acknowledgement perhaps of a four-string ensemble's native soulfulness. The insert mentions an earlier Music & Arts CD of this Wuorinen quartet, with one of Milton Babbitt's, as an inferior transfer. While I haven't that disc to compare, the present digitization of an analog master sounds very good indeed. Again, the three volumes of this Wuorinen edition—there are no immediate plans for a fourth—address a need. All three volumes heartily recommended.
-- Mike Silverton, FANFARE [3/1997]
Vivaldi - Gods Emperors & Angels
VIVALDI Concertos for Various Instruments: RV 86 1 , 163, 271 2 , 312 3 , 445 4 , 482 5 , 500 6 , 526 7 , 530 8 ) • Adrian Chandler, dir 2,7,8 (vn); Pamela Thorby 1,3,4 (rcr); 1,5,6 Peter Whelan (bn); 7,8 Sara Deborah Struntz (vn); La Serenissima (period instruments) • AVIE AV 2201 (72:01)
One of the underlying motifs of this program seems to be Bohemia, which Vivaldi visited in 1730 and where he probably acquired the paper on which some of these concertos are written. This mixed program opens with what must be one of his briefest concertos, RV 163, in B?. Though under four minutes, and with no special solo instrument, it encompasses many of Vivaldi’s salient characteristics: a strong opening theme, a fine melody, and rhythmic surprise. This brief piece is called “Conca,” for reasons Adrian Chandler connects with a Bohemian use of the conch shell to ward off impending storm. The only storm in front of us here, however, is the pleasurable swirl of Vivaldi’s invention.
In 1727–28, Vivaldi wrote two sets of string concertos, both, in the end, called La Cetra (the lyre). One set was published in Amsterdam in 1727 as op. 9 and may have originally been intended for the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles VI, to whom, on a visit to Trieste in 1728, however, he personally gave a manuscript of a set of new concertos. Vivaldi may have been looking for a job, and the emperor was certainly interested, but nothing happened because the emperor died and Vivaldi, having moved to Vienna without a patron, died in poor straits. The ensemble plays one concerto from the published set (RV 530) and two from the manuscript (RV 526 and 271, of which the former had to be reconstructed by Chandler).
The remaining four concertos on this disc use bassoon and recorder for the concerted part. Two of these, however, are single-movement fragments (RV 482 and 312, the latter reconstructed by Chandler). There is also a “sonata” for recorder and bassoon (RV 86).
Numbering 19, La Serenissima is a fairly large band, as early instrumental ensembles go. This gives a pleasant and most-welcome heft to its sound. The soloists are all good and it would be invidious to single out one of them. This is Vivaldi at his most vivacious, but don’t overlook the rightly named “amorous” concerto (RV 271) from the 1728 manuscript with which the program ends. Anyone looking for an introduction to Vivaldi’s instrumental pieces other than The Four Seasons would do well to start here.
FANFARE: Alan Swanson
Bruckner from the Archives, Vol. 5
![Daniel Jones: Rediscovered Piano Works [4 CDs] / Martin Jones](http://arkivmusic.com/cdn/shop/files/4098094-2843892.jpg?v=1786693027&width=800)
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Daniel Jones: Rediscovered Piano Works [4 CDs] / Martin Jones
Martin Jones has been one of Britain’s most highly regarded solo pianists since first coming to international attention in 1968 when he received the Dame Myra Hess Award. The same year he made his London debut at the Queen Elizabeth Hall and his New York debut at Carnegie Hall, and ever since has been in demand for recitals and concerto performances in Europe, Russia, Australia, Canada, North & South America. He has made over 90 recordings with Nimbus Records exploring music that is not often played including the complete works of 18 composers. This year will see the release of 4 discs of newly discovered manuscripts of Daniel Jones. Also, together with Adrian Farmer, 3 discs of French music for 4 hands. During next year, as well as giving concerts, he will complete 3 discs of the first recordings of all the piano works of Elizabeth Lutyens for Resonus Records, and continue his American Piano Series with Volumes 6 & 7 for Prova Recordings which will include several new works especially written for him, and, for Nimbus a collection of Brazilian music by Mignone, Gnatalli & Lorenzo-Fernandez.
Check out the 1-CD compilation based on this recording!
REVIEW
Dylan Thomas described his friend Daniel Jones as playing the piano and announcing gravely “My twentieth sonata…this one is Homage to Beethoven.” For many years I and most other readers assumed a degree of satirical exaggeration in this description; those of us who knew the music of the composer were aware that he had written very little for the piano apart from his admittedly substantial collection of brief Bagatelles, certainly not a whole score of piano sonatas. But, as it now transpires, Daniel Jones’s statements were as wildly at variance with the truth as Dylan Thomas’s. Martin Jones has unearthed in the music archives as the National Library of Wales a vast output of piano music written in the period 1933 to 1949 – and it clear that what is included in this collection of four very full discs is far from the whole of the body of music involved.
[Let] us be truly thankful and grateful for the investigative work of Martin Jones and Adrian Farmer who have unearthed these gems and brought them to our attention. And especially to the indefatigable Martin Jones, whose exploits in the field of rare and unknown piano music have produced so many other revelations over the years. His performances here, as indeed we would expect, have life, engagement and agility; it is clear that the composer himself must have been no mean shakes as a pianist in his younger years, but even he cannot have expected such a demonstration of skill and prowess as we find time and again on these discs. The recorded sound too, as we would also expect from the Wyastone Leys studio, is excellent. The carefully considered layout between discs is admirable, with the larger works separated by miniatures to produce an order suitable for continuous listening without fatigue. And the presentation – a sixteen-page booklet packed with invaluable and indeed unique information – is all that one could wish for.
--MusicWeb International (Paul Corfield Godfrey)
![Daniel Jones: Rediscovered Piano Works [4 CDs] / Martin Jones](http://arkivmusic.com/cdn/shop/files/4098094-2843892.jpg?v=1786693027&width=400)
Schumann: Gesange Der Fruhe; 7 Fughetten; Kreisleriana / Dina Ugorskaja
SCHUMANN Gesäng der Frühe. 7 Fughetten. Kreisleriana. Geistervariationen • Dina Ugorskaja (pn) • AVI MUSIC 8553217 (77:25)
The piercing and almost hypnotic eyes of pianist Dina Ugorskaja on the back cover of the booklet betray a perception and intelligence that serves her very well in this recording of three of Schumann’s late, tough pieces, and yet she has the flash and poetic power to give us an equally penetrating reading of Kreisleriana.
This last work, based on Hoffmann’s novel Views on Life by Murr, the Cat, along with a Fragmentary Biography of Kapellmeister Johannes Kreisler, Jotted Down on Wastepaper Found by Chance (got to love those long titles), has the hero actually going mad at the end. Schumann found himself enthralled by the possibilities inherent in the rational/irrational aspects of the story, and the music certainly reflects this maddening dichotomy, replete with a variety of forms and a connecting inconsistency that somehow, in the end, makes sense after all. I have been big on Horowitz and (recently) Clara Würtz in this music, but Ugorskaja makes quite a play for my affections here, and definitely moves easily into a very competitive field.
The other works on this disc are very late and from Schumann’s last years when he was trying to forge a different sort of music and even tonality. The Songs from Early Morning is an attempt to forge something out of the aesthetics of Hölderlin’s writings, which had taken a turn towards looking back at earlier models. Schumann did the same, perhaps even an early shot at neoclassicism for the time, using sparse harmonies and very vague tonal references. It’s haunting and beautiful all at once, and definitely a look into the future, something that so intimidated Clara that she never once performed it in public.
The composer fought the idea of fugues for many years, ultimately giving in to them in 1849. But his Seven Piano Pieces in Fughetta Form from just a few days before his Rhenish suicide attempt explores the structure to a remarkable degree, looking back to Bach with a quote from the “Royal” theme in the Musical Offering and presenting us with really unique harmonic constructs and odd voice-leading. It is one of the great mysteries of music to wonder about the path he might have taken had he made it into his 50s.
We don’t really know what caused Schumann’s final breakdown and illness. Could it have been a slow awareness of the relationship that Brahms had forged with his wife, platonic or otherwise? Or maybe the idea of failure in Düsseldorf haunted him—hard to say. But the chaos, real or imaginary, in his head was killing him quickly. At one point in February of 1854 he suddenly got out of bed and wrote down a theme that he said had been dictated by angels to him. The theme of these five variations (which he wrote down in the following days) had been used before in his Violin Concerto. But after he had finished with these “ghosts” he tossed his wedding ring into the Rhine and followed soon after. Clara nixed both publication and performance of this piece, and the first edition is from 1939, though Brahms made a set of four-hand variations (op. 23) on the theme.
Ugorskaja makes a great case for these late works as being every bit as important as Schumann’s earlier piano music. She brings a heightened sensitivity to all her playing coupled with an extraordinary facile ability to convey the complexities of this music in an easily assimilated way. Great piano sound, too, and I can recommend this as one of the top choices for these late works, nicely gathered in one place, with the additional spice of a fully competitive Kreisleriana as well.
FANFARE: Steven E. Ritter
Adolf Busch Plays Bach And Beethoven In Wartime New York
Adolf Busch had been one of the highly celebrated violinists and greatly admired exponents of the Beethoven concerto in Europe before WWII, but had never recorded it prior to his emigration to the U.S. in 1939. After a period of relative neglect, he was invited by American Columbia to record the work in 1942, but the outcome was not a success. Critic Tully Potter tells the story in his linernotes: "On 7 and 8 February [1942] the Busch brothers ... collaborated with the Philharmonic-Symphony, in the Beethoven Concerto, Adolf airing a new set of cadenzas written the previous year. ...the Saturday-evening interpretation gained mixed notices, the best being very good, the worst very bad; and perhaps the violinist was not at his best. Two critics indicated that he seemed nervous--hardly surprising, when it was his first performance for years of a work he had been accustomed to play almost every week. He was certainly in excellent form on the Sunday afternoon: the CBS network broadcast was taken down by at least two home recordists and one of those documents is here released for the first time. It makes an admirable corrective to the official Columbia recording, made next day at Liederkranz Hall. Unfortunately the production was delegated to the talented but inexperienced Goddard Lieberson. Busch was palpably under strain in the opening movement, his nervousness exacerbated by Lieberson's insisting he stand on a raised platform, which made him feel remote from his brother and the orchestra and brought him too close to the microphone. The resulting poor balance caused him to reject the recording and it was not issued until after his death. The live performance is everything one might expect." The fillers include a Bach concerto (in a minor) never commercially recorded by Busch.
Monteverdi: 7th Book of Madrigals / Alessandrini, Concerto Italiano
With this recording of Book VII of Claudio Monteverdi’s madrigals (1619, Venice), Rinaldo Alessandrini and his Concerto Italiano devote themselves to a love theme with a very pastoral edge the composer particularly savored. The Italian harpsichordist and conductor once again offers us a collection of Monteverdi madrigals of the highest quality, in which the poems not only lead the singing, but also determine the arrangement of the madrigals by poet. Inspired by “the hitherto unpublished stamp of a literary intention” indicated by the composer at the start of the collection, Rinaldo Alessandrini and his ensemble, accustomed to enlightening dramatics, offer a sparkling polyphony varying from one to six voices, in a wide range of pitches.
REVIEWS:
Claudio Monteverdi’s Seventh Book of Madrigals have been recorded well by several early music groups, but one expects superior readings from harpsichordist Rinaldo Alessandrini and his vocal-instrumental ensemble Concerto Italiano, and indeed, one gets them here. He presents the madrigals not in the order in which they were published, instead grouping the texted pieces by poet. This points to the stylistic features an audience of Monteverdi’s time would have been interested in, and Alessandrini supports these features with readings that differentiate the pieces sharply from one another. This is an ideal recording of music by the later Monteverdi.
-- AllMusic.com (James Manheim)
This is Book 7, but not as you know it. A must-read booklet essay by Alessandrini himself frames the new recording as a philosophical and dramatic undertaking rather than an exercise in completism. This is opera without the stage – a riveting and incredibly stylish account of this vast and varied book of music.
-- Gramophone
The Young Friedrich Gulda
Friedrich Gulda was born in Vienna on May 16, 1930. He began his musical education at the Grossmann Conservatory and subsequently took private lessons from Felix Pazofsky. From 1942 to 1947 he studied piano at the Vienna Academy of Music under Bruno Seidlhofer and Music Theory and Composition under Joseph Marx. He gave his first public performance in 1944 and, two years later when just 16 years old, won the Geneva International Music Competition. Starting after the Second World War, as a 20-year-old, Gulda established himself as a piano soloist with an excellent international reputation and even performed at Carnegie Hall in New York City in 1950. In the 1950s he was celebrated and considered the leading interpreter of Beethoven in his generation. He founded his own Klassische Orchester Gulda for chamber music with members of the Vienna Symphony Orchestra.
In addition to Beethoven, Gulda’s repertoire encompasses works by Johann Sebastian Bach, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Franz Schubert, Frédéric Chopin, Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel and Richard Strauss, whose Burleske in D minor and lieder are included in this release, with Gulda accompanying soprano Hilde Güden. Gulda was essentially an out-and-out contrarian who showed that a great genius can sometimes be only a step away from a certain madness. While Karl Böhm or Rubinstein admired him as a magnificently talented interpreter of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven, Gulda could also be provocative – including inciting his fellow concert pianists. Asked about Vladimir Horowitz, Gulda once responded: “Horowitz is a master. Because he is able to do – whatever he wants,” but also added: “But what he is after doesn’t interest me” (Joachim Kaiser).
REVIEW:
Friedrich Gulda (1930-2000) was certainly never a conformist pianist. But he was less flamboyant in his youth than in his later years, and he did present new perspectives at the beginning of his career, which helped to provoke a change in thinking. The recordings in this CD box set date from this period.
He recorded the freshly perky Mozart Sonata K. 576 in 1948, and both Concertos K. 503 and 537 in 1955 with the New Symphony Orchestra under Anthony Collins. Gulda’s fresh yet nuanced playing compensates for the weak orchestra’s playing. The Beethoven sonatas Nos. 4, 7, 8 and 19 show the still searching Gulda of 1955 on his way to the 1967 complete recording. The 3rd CD includes the concerto piece by Carl Maria von Weber and the Strauss Burlesque, as well as a set of Strauss songs that Gulda recorded with Hilde Güden in 1956. These are wonderful interpretations of rare freshness and suppleness. Güden’s silvery timbre and her confidently controlled, light vocal line coupled with Gulda’s spontaneous and sensitive playing make for an uncommonly natural performance.
Recorded in 1954, Chopin’s compositions, the 4 Ballades and the 1st Piano Concerto, are among Gulda’s ‘immortal’ recordings. In the 1st Piano Concerto, Gulda collaborates with the more traditional Adrian Boult, but it is precisely the contrast in temperament that leads to special tension and dynamics. This recording has been available several times on various labels, but here it definitely sounds in the best quality so far. Also very exciting are the four ballads, which he plays dramatically and narratively.
Debussy and Ravel, the composers represented on CDs Nos. 5 and 6 of this box, have been Gulda’s recurring preoccupation. The early recordings from 1953 and 1955 may not yet be as stylistically tested on the hard, sharp and pithy of jazz as the late recordings, but their analytically modern style, with clear, precise lines and contours and good transparency, shows the intellectual brilliance of these interpretations.
The bottom line is that this encounter with the young Gulda is a very important one that should help one understand the older musician and could help bring respect to Gulda among those who did not appreciate his later work as much.
-- Pizzicato
