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Rachmaninov: Symphonic Dances / Petrenko, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic
Avie Records · Mar 2010CD$19.99 -
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Homage - Mozart: The Haydn Quartets / Alexander String Quartet
Foghorn Classics · Jan 2004CD$37.99 -
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Elgar: The Dream Of Gerontius Op. 38 / Elder, Groves, Terfel, Coote, Et Al
Halle · Oct 2008CD$32.99 -
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Handel: Alceste / Curnyn, Crowe, Hulett, Foster-Williams, Early Opera Company
Chandos · May 2012CD$21.99 -
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Martinu: Complete Piano Music Vol 6 / Giorgio Koukl
Naxos
CD
$19.99
Jun 30, 2009
These two volumes [6 & 7] of the complete solo piano music of Bohuslav Martinu announce the completion of an outstanding undertaking. The series was originally intended to run to only four discs but has since trawled further outwards. The catch means it is now, quite clearly, the most extensive and exhaustive collection of the works for solo piano ever recorded.
Volume six starts with the 1931 Esquisses H203. They’re written in pungent neo-classical form, and hints of chinoiserie, Paris-style, haunt the second of the six, as well as Ragtime. Martinu, though, always remained far more allusive stylistically than fellow Czech Schulhoff in this regard. Impressionist hues haunt the Fourth whilst I’m sure I hear a larky Volga Boatmen embedded in the Ragtime melos of No.5 – plenty of sinewy articulation here.
Jeux was also written in 1931 and is a locus classicus of Martinu cross-rhythms. I suggest you start with No.3 of the four of Book I, which is both fluent and fluid but also sports a characteristically saturnine neo-classical drive. The second book is no less fine for all that: in some ways it’s more piquant still, with a warm and malleable quality to the Andante [No.3] and a martial tune laced with Prokofiev-like moments [No.6]. We go right back to 1917 for Tri lyrické skladby (Three Lyric Pieces). These take in a Mussorgsky Pictures feel in the first of the three. The second starts like an etude, diverts to popular chinoiserie, then noodles off in the direction of the nineteenth century drawing room. Weird mélange.
There are pieces you probably have not come across even in literature devoted to the composer. The Black Bottom is one. It dates from 1927 and is a delightful minute’s worth of your time. The sleeve note writers have relied too much on Wikipedia for this one. Jelly Roll Morton’s Black Bottom Stomp came via Perry Bradford’s introduction of it in 1919 in Nashville, Tennessee, not the Black Bottom district of Detroit. Naturally you won’t be interested in this, but I am.
Vecer na pobreží (Evening at the Shore) dates from 1921 and will intrigue admirers of the composer. In three brief movements he creates an intimate impressionistic tableau, somewhat reliant on Griffes possibly, where, in the central panel, the left hand waves lap into the right hand melody line delightfully and where the storm in the finale gently eases away. This may seem atypical but it shows the ease with which he assimilated French models and distilled them potently. The disc ends with the grand bell peals of Písen beze slov, the valedictory Nocturne and the plangent Chanson triste in D minor....
So Koukl’s pilgrimage has come to its end. He has been a most worthy guide, and now takes his place at the top table of Martinu performers on record. At budget price he has no peers. As a complete cycle this set has no rivals. Individual performances from the likes of Firkušný, Leichner and others may be more arresting in isolation but the overarching reach of Koukl proves dominant and permanent.
-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International
Volume six starts with the 1931 Esquisses H203. They’re written in pungent neo-classical form, and hints of chinoiserie, Paris-style, haunt the second of the six, as well as Ragtime. Martinu, though, always remained far more allusive stylistically than fellow Czech Schulhoff in this regard. Impressionist hues haunt the Fourth whilst I’m sure I hear a larky Volga Boatmen embedded in the Ragtime melos of No.5 – plenty of sinewy articulation here.
Jeux was also written in 1931 and is a locus classicus of Martinu cross-rhythms. I suggest you start with No.3 of the four of Book I, which is both fluent and fluid but also sports a characteristically saturnine neo-classical drive. The second book is no less fine for all that: in some ways it’s more piquant still, with a warm and malleable quality to the Andante [No.3] and a martial tune laced with Prokofiev-like moments [No.6]. We go right back to 1917 for Tri lyrické skladby (Three Lyric Pieces). These take in a Mussorgsky Pictures feel in the first of the three. The second starts like an etude, diverts to popular chinoiserie, then noodles off in the direction of the nineteenth century drawing room. Weird mélange.
There are pieces you probably have not come across even in literature devoted to the composer. The Black Bottom is one. It dates from 1927 and is a delightful minute’s worth of your time. The sleeve note writers have relied too much on Wikipedia for this one. Jelly Roll Morton’s Black Bottom Stomp came via Perry Bradford’s introduction of it in 1919 in Nashville, Tennessee, not the Black Bottom district of Detroit. Naturally you won’t be interested in this, but I am.
Vecer na pobreží (Evening at the Shore) dates from 1921 and will intrigue admirers of the composer. In three brief movements he creates an intimate impressionistic tableau, somewhat reliant on Griffes possibly, where, in the central panel, the left hand waves lap into the right hand melody line delightfully and where the storm in the finale gently eases away. This may seem atypical but it shows the ease with which he assimilated French models and distilled them potently. The disc ends with the grand bell peals of Písen beze slov, the valedictory Nocturne and the plangent Chanson triste in D minor....
So Koukl’s pilgrimage has come to its end. He has been a most worthy guide, and now takes his place at the top table of Martinu performers on record. At budget price he has no peers. As a complete cycle this set has no rivals. Individual performances from the likes of Firkušný, Leichner and others may be more arresting in isolation but the overarching reach of Koukl proves dominant and permanent.
-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International
Moleiro: Piano Works / Clara Rodriguez
Nimbus
CD
$20.99
Mar 01, 2009
Attractive and unfamiliar keyboard works, well played.
This appears to be a reissue of a recital previously available on ASV (ASV CD DCA 890), and recorded, I believe, in 1994. It is good to have it back in circulation, as it offers a well-played representation of an interesting minor composer.
Moleiro was born in Zaraza in Venezuela and in the mid 1920s he studied piano in Caracas with a well-known teacher, Don Salvador Llamozas. He went on to make a career as a pianist, composer and teacher. This present CD includes the bulk of the work he wrote for the piano.
Most of the music here is not strikingly Latin American in manner, although there are a few distinctive touches here and there which speak of its geographical origins. For the most part Moleiro's piano music has about it a kind of aristocratic grace, and works within mostly European models understood from a South American perspective. At times one senses a kind of nostalgia for European forms and what they might represent. One is not surprised to encounter 'El senor de la peluca' - the gentleman with the wig - or to find oneself listening to a charming Waltz.
Moleiro's Sonatinas are written in the tradition of Scarlatti (though being far from mere pastiche); his Prelude and Fugue in C sharp minor have more than a little of Bach about them; the Serenade in the Spanish Style speaks for itself; the Estudio de concierto has clear affinities with Chopin and the delightful La fuente registers its composer's knowledge of Ravel and Debussy. But everywhere there is enough evidence of a personal sensibility at work to maintain the listener's interest. At times Moleiro's programmatic miniatures - such as La muchacha de la herrería (the girl from the blacksmiths), El herrero (The blacksmith) and Los pájaros (The birds) - are attractive additions to a familiar keyboard tradition.
The last two pieces on the CD are the most distinctive. It is unfortunate that the relatively scanty documentation that comes with this CD gives no dates for any of the compositions, so that one has no way of knowing whether or not the sequence of music heard in any way represents the composer's stylistic development. Certainly Estampas del llano (Pictures of the plains) and Joropo are far more thoroughly infused with a sense of the composer's native land, and without that nostalgic air mentioned above. Though the musical language of Estampas del llano is essentially European in nature, its evocation of the Venezuelan plains, in their contrasting fecundity and aridity, makes it music that no European composer would have written. The joropo music of Venezuela grew out of the fusion of ancient Spanish traditions, including the fandango and the malagueña (themselves incorporating Arabic influences) with the musics of African slaves and of native South American Indians. It is a heady mix and from it has grown some exciting music. A good deal of that excitement is captured in Moleiro's Joropo for piano, played with considerable panache by Clara Rodriguez.
Throughout this recital the sureness of Rodriguez' technique is evident, and her flexibility ensures that she can sound at home in all of the various musical idioms on which Moleiro's piano music touches. This makes for a consistently entertaining programme - a CD that makes a case, without overstatement, for the music of a figure too little known beyond his native land.
-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International
This appears to be a reissue of a recital previously available on ASV (ASV CD DCA 890), and recorded, I believe, in 1994. It is good to have it back in circulation, as it offers a well-played representation of an interesting minor composer.
Moleiro was born in Zaraza in Venezuela and in the mid 1920s he studied piano in Caracas with a well-known teacher, Don Salvador Llamozas. He went on to make a career as a pianist, composer and teacher. This present CD includes the bulk of the work he wrote for the piano.
Most of the music here is not strikingly Latin American in manner, although there are a few distinctive touches here and there which speak of its geographical origins. For the most part Moleiro's piano music has about it a kind of aristocratic grace, and works within mostly European models understood from a South American perspective. At times one senses a kind of nostalgia for European forms and what they might represent. One is not surprised to encounter 'El senor de la peluca' - the gentleman with the wig - or to find oneself listening to a charming Waltz.
Moleiro's Sonatinas are written in the tradition of Scarlatti (though being far from mere pastiche); his Prelude and Fugue in C sharp minor have more than a little of Bach about them; the Serenade in the Spanish Style speaks for itself; the Estudio de concierto has clear affinities with Chopin and the delightful La fuente registers its composer's knowledge of Ravel and Debussy. But everywhere there is enough evidence of a personal sensibility at work to maintain the listener's interest. At times Moleiro's programmatic miniatures - such as La muchacha de la herrería (the girl from the blacksmiths), El herrero (The blacksmith) and Los pájaros (The birds) - are attractive additions to a familiar keyboard tradition.
The last two pieces on the CD are the most distinctive. It is unfortunate that the relatively scanty documentation that comes with this CD gives no dates for any of the compositions, so that one has no way of knowing whether or not the sequence of music heard in any way represents the composer's stylistic development. Certainly Estampas del llano (Pictures of the plains) and Joropo are far more thoroughly infused with a sense of the composer's native land, and without that nostalgic air mentioned above. Though the musical language of Estampas del llano is essentially European in nature, its evocation of the Venezuelan plains, in their contrasting fecundity and aridity, makes it music that no European composer would have written. The joropo music of Venezuela grew out of the fusion of ancient Spanish traditions, including the fandango and the malagueña (themselves incorporating Arabic influences) with the musics of African slaves and of native South American Indians. It is a heady mix and from it has grown some exciting music. A good deal of that excitement is captured in Moleiro's Joropo for piano, played with considerable panache by Clara Rodriguez.
Throughout this recital the sureness of Rodriguez' technique is evident, and her flexibility ensures that she can sound at home in all of the various musical idioms on which Moleiro's piano music touches. This makes for a consistently entertaining programme - a CD that makes a case, without overstatement, for the music of a figure too little known beyond his native land.
-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International
Radiant Blue
Reference Recordings
CD
$12.99
Apr 18, 2025
Anton Schwartz (tenor sax) Peter Bernstein (guitar) Taylor Eigsti (piano) John Shifflett (acoustic bass) Tim Bulkley (drums) Produced by Bud Spangler and Anton Schwartz. Recording and Mixing Engineer: Dan Feiszli. Mastering engineer: Paul Stubblebine. 'Radiant Blue' had a long run on the US jazz radio charts, peaking at number four and earning a JazzWeek cover story. 'Much like Chris Potter, Anton Schwartz is a nice and unassuming guy to talk to, yet both turn into modern day tenor titans as soon as they put the mouthpiece between their lips... There's a lot to like here with sharp arrangements and crisp straight ahead playing that seems to hit all the right notes.' - Tad Hendrickson, JazzWeek Magazine '... this is a first-class audiophile product.' - John Henry, Audiophile Audition 'Anton Schwartz and his sidemen are deadly serious about their fun... they are all adept at staying in the pocket while stretching it. As for Schwartz, he has a classic clear-throated tenor sound and kicks like a mule. His zeal to communicate is fervent yet sophisticated... Radiant Blue could make an excellent introduction to jazz for someone on the outside looking for a way in.' - Thomas Conrad, Jazz Times Magazine 'This is grade 'A' 'all-killer-no-filler'... The five musicians are virtuosos, endowed with temperance, eschewing gratuity for the greater good of the music... Schwartz' compositions are engaging and sophisticated... these are truly unique musicians of the highest order.' - Jan-Mikael Erakare, Abstract Logix 'Schwartz blows with a warm, fluid tone, and great economy... his decisions all sound right... This ensemble shines.... The music bins are full of bluesy jazz albums; this one brims with optimism and intelligence.' - Ed Kopp, JAZZIZ Magazine The liner notes from the CD: THE BLUES IS A FEELING THE BLUES IS A FORM The blues is a feeling. The blues is a form. Two statements about music. You've likely heard the first one at some point, but perhaps not the second. So I'd like to explain a bit. Music is nothing without feeling, and nowhere is this more true than in blues music. Blues greats such as Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters and B.B. King have been masters at conveying emotion, and they passed down as their legacy an emotional vocabulary of musical riffs, stylings, phrases and techniques that form the vernacular of blues music. But no less a part of their legacy is a contribution of a different nature: the blues *form*. In poetry, a sonnet is distinguished by it's form - a particular fourteen-line structure. So, too, much of blues music conforms to a particular structure - a distinct sequence of chords twelve measures in length. That structure has come to permeate popular music far beyond the genre of blues. 'Rock Around the Clock' is, structurally, a perfect blues. So is the theme from *Batman*. And Charlie Parker's 'Now's The Time.' But none of these would be called blues music. So when jazz musicians say, 'let's play a blues,' what they are proposing is not a song with a certain feeling, but a song with a certain structure. Radiant Blue is a collection of ten blueses - which is to say, ten songs based on the blues form. To be sure, there are stylistic elements of the blues in many of the songs (check out 'Sneaking Suspicion' and 'Blues for Now'). But most of the music is not particularly bluesy. The grooves run a wide gamut, from fast straight ahead jazz to New Orleans to Afro-Samba to feel-good South African to angular funk. _Radiant Blue_ is a CD of blueses, but it is not a blues CD any more than The Who's rock opera, *Tommy*, is an opera CD. If you're familiar with music theory, you'll know that I've taken many liberties with the blues form throughout the CD. But my hope is that, regardless of your musical knowledge, with a few listenings of the CD you will be able to 'squint your ears' and make out the shape of a blues, in the same way you might recognize an old friend at a distance by just their silhouette and their walk. For jazz musicians, the blues form is such a friend. - Anton Schwartz, June, 2006, Oakland.
Tippett: Complete String Quartets Vol 1 / Tippett String Quartet
Naxos
CD
$13.99
$19.99
Save 30%
Oct 28, 2008
Will appeal strongly to all interested in Tippett’s chamber music.
There are only two recordings of the complete Michael Tippett String Quartets currently available. The Lindsays concluded their cycle in 1992, with the first three having been recorded in 1975. For many years, apart from the odd chamber concert or private hearing, their cycle has been the only medium for exploring these seminal works. And excellent they are too. However, all Tippett enthusiasts will be delighted that the eponymous Quartet has been selected by Naxos to make a new reading of these superb pieces.
The Tippett Quartet, which was formed a decade ago, has rapidly become one of Britain’s leading string quartets. Their ‘mission statement’ is to combine so-called mainstream repertoire with contemporary works. They have recently made recordings for Dutton Epoch of music by Cecilia McDowall and Stephen Dodgson. These have been well received. Naturally, as their name implies, they have a ‘soft spot’ for Tippett’s music.
Since hearing the first three Quartets way back in 1975, I have agreed with commentators that these works are critical to an understanding of Tippett. The Fourth and Fifth Quartets chart the composer’s progress into a different soundscape, but remain essential to an appreciation of his career.
The first volume of this Naxos release contrasts the first two ‘lyrical’ Quartets with the much more dissonant Fourth, which was written in 1977-78.
The programme notes point out that Michael Tippett, as a student, was ‘invincibly’ drawn to the quartet medium after hearing performances in London by the Busch and the Lener ensembles. He is known to have written a number of unpublished quartets in the late 1920s. However it was the Quartet in A major that was the first work in the genre to be accepted as part of Tippett’s canon. It appeared in its original form in 1935. In 1943 it was revised, being reduced from four movements to three. The composer had felt that the first two were unsuccessful. He composed a new ‘allegro appassionato’, which clearly reflects the composer’s admiration of Beethoven. The slow movement is truly beautiful. It is ‘cast in the form of an Elizabethan Pavane’ and Tippett describes this music as being ‘almost unbroken lines of lyric song for all the instruments in harmony’. The final movement is an enthusiastic allegro which is really a fugue – although without the pedantic overtones that such a form may suggest. This fugue is perhaps more redolent of Beethoven than J.S. Bach.
The Second String Quartet builds on the success of the first and once again owes much of its ethos to Beethoven. It has been well described as being ‘lithe and dancing’. Certainly lyricism is one of the hallmarks of this work. One reviewer suggested that the key designation of F# major should not put off atonalists from enjoying this quartet. Contrariwise, those who enjoy traditional key relationships should not assume that Tippett will oblige them: certainly the work begins in F# minor and concludes in the tonic major, as does the second movement fugue. However, a better impression is gained if it is assumed that Tippett has designed a work that hovers around the ‘noted’ key rather than using it as a part of the work’s tonal structure. Yet the composer himself states that this quartet is the most classically balanced of the first three. At first glance it would appear to be written in standard four-movement form. However the composer insists that the “standard is juggled with and moved around.”
This work ought to rank as one of the finest examples of a twentieth century string quartet. It seems unbelievable that there are only two or three recordings of this currently available. The Second Quartet was first performed in 1943.
The first time I heard the Fourth Quartet, I admit that I was not impressed. Its style seemed a million miles away from the Tippett that I knew and loved. This included the Double Concerto, the first two Quartets, the A Midsummer Marriage and A Child of our Time. I realised that there was a more complex and dissonant side to Tippett’s art – having ploughed my way through a recording of the Vision of St Augustine. I remember hearing the first performance of the Fourth Symphony at the Royal Albert Hall and feeling it was just not what I imagined or hoped what it would be like. It was harder to come to terms with than the blues-influenced Third Symphony. That was all a very long time ago: music, like life, sorts itself out. What was difficult listening for me in 1978 now seems quite reasonable and even enjoyable. Moreover, the same can be said of the Fourth Quartet. Listening to this work for the first time in many years I was impressed by both the sound-world and its formal balance. Tippett has written many, to my mind, obscure and obtuse words about his compositional ethos. Sometimes this can be of help, but more often that not it is a hindrance to an appreciation of the music. The programme notes point out that in this present work Tippett was exploring “the compositional potential of one-movement form, using it a metaphor for the cycle of life.” Here, this life is a specifically human one, and that of a certain individual. Over and above this emotional programme, the composer was attempting to attain the ‘purity and tenderness’ of Beethoven.
The sleeve-notes gives quite a long analysis of this work – which deserves study. However the key thing to note is that there is much beauty in this work – in spite of the reputation this work has for dissonance. And finally, the work is really conceived as being in one movement – as opposed to the earlier works. The Quartet has a number of sections, which contrast tempi, and to a certain extent harmonic language, but is played without a break. Finally the listener will surely note that the third section is truly lyrical: the music here is beautiful and lacks the acerbic sound of earlier pages.
This CD will appeal strongly to all interested in the chamber music of Michael Tippett. The three works as performed with great technical skill, articulation and sheer understanding of the music. Naturally there is a hiatus in style between the first two Quartets and the last. Yet the Tippett Quartet are equally at home with the lyrical demands of the earlier works as they are with the more complex, dissonant and involved structures of the last. However, if the listener needs a sample of the sheer perfection of this recording, they only need to listen to the Lento cantabile of the A major Quartet. This is surely one of the most beautiful and moving pieces of music in Tippett’s catalogue in particular and in English music in general.
-- John France, MusicWeb International
There are only two recordings of the complete Michael Tippett String Quartets currently available. The Lindsays concluded their cycle in 1992, with the first three having been recorded in 1975. For many years, apart from the odd chamber concert or private hearing, their cycle has been the only medium for exploring these seminal works. And excellent they are too. However, all Tippett enthusiasts will be delighted that the eponymous Quartet has been selected by Naxos to make a new reading of these superb pieces.
The Tippett Quartet, which was formed a decade ago, has rapidly become one of Britain’s leading string quartets. Their ‘mission statement’ is to combine so-called mainstream repertoire with contemporary works. They have recently made recordings for Dutton Epoch of music by Cecilia McDowall and Stephen Dodgson. These have been well received. Naturally, as their name implies, they have a ‘soft spot’ for Tippett’s music.
Since hearing the first three Quartets way back in 1975, I have agreed with commentators that these works are critical to an understanding of Tippett. The Fourth and Fifth Quartets chart the composer’s progress into a different soundscape, but remain essential to an appreciation of his career.
The first volume of this Naxos release contrasts the first two ‘lyrical’ Quartets with the much more dissonant Fourth, which was written in 1977-78.
The programme notes point out that Michael Tippett, as a student, was ‘invincibly’ drawn to the quartet medium after hearing performances in London by the Busch and the Lener ensembles. He is known to have written a number of unpublished quartets in the late 1920s. However it was the Quartet in A major that was the first work in the genre to be accepted as part of Tippett’s canon. It appeared in its original form in 1935. In 1943 it was revised, being reduced from four movements to three. The composer had felt that the first two were unsuccessful. He composed a new ‘allegro appassionato’, which clearly reflects the composer’s admiration of Beethoven. The slow movement is truly beautiful. It is ‘cast in the form of an Elizabethan Pavane’ and Tippett describes this music as being ‘almost unbroken lines of lyric song for all the instruments in harmony’. The final movement is an enthusiastic allegro which is really a fugue – although without the pedantic overtones that such a form may suggest. This fugue is perhaps more redolent of Beethoven than J.S. Bach.
The Second String Quartet builds on the success of the first and once again owes much of its ethos to Beethoven. It has been well described as being ‘lithe and dancing’. Certainly lyricism is one of the hallmarks of this work. One reviewer suggested that the key designation of F# major should not put off atonalists from enjoying this quartet. Contrariwise, those who enjoy traditional key relationships should not assume that Tippett will oblige them: certainly the work begins in F# minor and concludes in the tonic major, as does the second movement fugue. However, a better impression is gained if it is assumed that Tippett has designed a work that hovers around the ‘noted’ key rather than using it as a part of the work’s tonal structure. Yet the composer himself states that this quartet is the most classically balanced of the first three. At first glance it would appear to be written in standard four-movement form. However the composer insists that the “standard is juggled with and moved around.”
This work ought to rank as one of the finest examples of a twentieth century string quartet. It seems unbelievable that there are only two or three recordings of this currently available. The Second Quartet was first performed in 1943.
The first time I heard the Fourth Quartet, I admit that I was not impressed. Its style seemed a million miles away from the Tippett that I knew and loved. This included the Double Concerto, the first two Quartets, the A Midsummer Marriage and A Child of our Time. I realised that there was a more complex and dissonant side to Tippett’s art – having ploughed my way through a recording of the Vision of St Augustine. I remember hearing the first performance of the Fourth Symphony at the Royal Albert Hall and feeling it was just not what I imagined or hoped what it would be like. It was harder to come to terms with than the blues-influenced Third Symphony. That was all a very long time ago: music, like life, sorts itself out. What was difficult listening for me in 1978 now seems quite reasonable and even enjoyable. Moreover, the same can be said of the Fourth Quartet. Listening to this work for the first time in many years I was impressed by both the sound-world and its formal balance. Tippett has written many, to my mind, obscure and obtuse words about his compositional ethos. Sometimes this can be of help, but more often that not it is a hindrance to an appreciation of the music. The programme notes point out that in this present work Tippett was exploring “the compositional potential of one-movement form, using it a metaphor for the cycle of life.” Here, this life is a specifically human one, and that of a certain individual. Over and above this emotional programme, the composer was attempting to attain the ‘purity and tenderness’ of Beethoven.
The sleeve-notes gives quite a long analysis of this work – which deserves study. However the key thing to note is that there is much beauty in this work – in spite of the reputation this work has for dissonance. And finally, the work is really conceived as being in one movement – as opposed to the earlier works. The Quartet has a number of sections, which contrast tempi, and to a certain extent harmonic language, but is played without a break. Finally the listener will surely note that the third section is truly lyrical: the music here is beautiful and lacks the acerbic sound of earlier pages.
This CD will appeal strongly to all interested in the chamber music of Michael Tippett. The three works as performed with great technical skill, articulation and sheer understanding of the music. Naturally there is a hiatus in style between the first two Quartets and the last. Yet the Tippett Quartet are equally at home with the lyrical demands of the earlier works as they are with the more complex, dissonant and involved structures of the last. However, if the listener needs a sample of the sheer perfection of this recording, they only need to listen to the Lento cantabile of the A major Quartet. This is surely one of the most beautiful and moving pieces of music in Tippett’s catalogue in particular and in English music in general.
-- John France, MusicWeb International
Ries: 3 Violin Sonatas / Grossman, Kagan
Naxos
CD
$9.99
$19.99
Save 50%
Feb 10, 2015
Recording of the Month
Ferdinand Ries was Beethoven’s student, close friend and biographer, but until quite recently was very much one of those composers living in the shadow of his Bonn master, rather than as the gifted and prolific composer he in fact was.
American pianist, author and educator Susan Kagan has explored the music of those composers associated with Beethoven and his musical scene. In fact she has researched the music of Archduke Rudolph – Beethoven’s composition student for more than twenty years – for her Ph.D. This was subsequently published by Pendragon Press back in 1988. More recently she has almost single-handedly championed the cause of Ries’s piano music, with five CDs of his Sonatas and Sonatinas on the Naxos label.
Kagan explains: ‘Ries studied piano with Beethoven (both were natives of Bonn, Germany) and was entrusted by him with such work as making transcriptions and piano arrangements, and copying orchestral parts of Beethoven’s new works. Ries moved to England in 1813, married an Englishwoman, and had a successful career touring as a virtuoso concert pianist. At the same time he was composing prodigiously and virtually everything he wrote was published. His thorough knowledge of Beethoven’s music undoubtedly helped shape Ries’s style, but his piano sonatas, from 1809 on, show an adventurous turn toward an expressive keyboard style anticipating that of the first generation of Romantic piano composers – Mendelssohn, Chopin, and Schumann. His gift for melody is like Schubert’s, and he is ever inventive in creating and developing beautiful themes. While his symphonies and concertos are ‘public’ works, intended for large audiences and concert halls, the piano sonatas are his most personally-expressive works, revealing an individual outlook on a genre of music cultivated by that great triumvirate of the Classical period – Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven.’
Ries also composed eighteen violin sonatas, which were brought out by Bonn music-publisher, Simrock, who also published much of Beethoven’s music. On this latest release from Naxos, Kagan is joined by violinist and fellow-American Eric Grossman, in an exploration of three of Ries’s violin sonatas, two from his op. 8 set, and his op. 19, all world-première recordings. However, unlike the piano sonatas, which have been released as part of a series of volumes, by starting here with a well-chosen selection from the eighteen extant examples, it gives the record company the option of releasing further violin sonatas in the future, or just letting this present single CD speak on behalf of the other fifteen.
It is interesting that the opening movements of the Sonata in F, Op. 8 No. 1, recorded first, and the Sonata in C minor, Op. 8 No. 2 that follows, have more than just a passing acquaintance with movements by Beethoven himself. While the latter first movement is very reminiscent of the corresponding movement from Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in the same key, Op. 10 No. 3, the F major Sonata opens in a pastoral vein, with a main theme which immediately hints at Beethoven’s ‘Spring’ Sonata for violin and piano in the same key. Rather than reinforcing the idea that Ries is merely mimicking his teacher – what follows, in both of Ries’s sonatas, after the initial ‘homage to Ludwig’, really does confirm that the younger composer has an individual voice, and subsequently embarks on quite a different musical journey from his master.
Of the violin sonatas as a whole, Kagan continues: ‘(They) are models of the Viennese Classical sonata style established by Mozart: most are in three movements, with first movements in sonata-allegro form, lyrical slow movements in ternary (ABA) form, and rondo finales. Like Mozart, Ries divides the material to provide equal interest for both instruments.’ The Sonata in F largely adheres to this pattern, though is, in fact, a four-movement work, with a sprightly Scherzo and Trio in the tonic minor (F minor) following the opening ‘Allegro ma non troppo’, before a conventional, though short slow movement, leads to the finale, with its essentially rustic theme. However, this soon contrasts with the central episode, where staccato triplets evolve into a vigorous fugato section (like a fugue, but not fully played-out), and something which, according to Kagan in her compact, yet succinct and informative sleeve-notes, is an unusual event in Ries’s music, where polyphonic writing is ‘generally avoided’.
The characteristic dotted rhythms and robust dynamics of the ‘Allegro con spirito’ that open the Sonata in C minor, imbue it initially with an almost martial character, but this soon turns lyrical, in which vein the ensuing ‘Adagio cantabile’ slow movement continues, and which also then acts as the perfect aperitif to the lightness of the closing rondo, with its staccato texture and preponderance of rapid repeated notes.
The so-named Grande Sonata in F minor, while the shortest of the three works on the CD, is nevertheless conceived in large scale, both with regards structure and content, and with its key, and the dramatic insistence of the opening movement’s main theme, link it in character to Beethoven’s ‘Appassionata’ piano sonata, written some five years earlier. Unlike Beethoven’s work, Ries’s sonata begins with a short and poignant ‘Largo espressivo’ introduction – not unlike the opening of Beethoven’s earlier ‘Pathétique’ sonata, but providing nowhere near as dramatic a lead-in. Ries maintains the feverish mood of the ‘Allegro agitato’ throughout, despite the occasional sections away from the over-arching minor tonality, and the movement’s calmly-understated close. The following slow movement, in a gentle triple measure, and in the relative major key (A flat major), has a simple charm and eloquence that makes it extremely endearing and pleasing on the ear, but with sufficient contrast within, to hold the listener’s attention throughout. The overall playful mood of the final rondo also has more than enough variety, both rhythmically and melodically in its main theme and episodes, to sustain it, with some real fireworks in the central episode. The music has a decidedly Schubertian feel, both thematically, and in Ries’s use of tonality, where more remote keys figure, and there is often a characteristic shift from major to minor and back. Yet again Ries chooses to finish like a lamb, rather than a lion – something Beethoven does in the opening movement of his ‘Appassionata’, but not in the work’s tumultuous and clattering coda to the finale.
Whichever way you look at this latest Ries CD from Naxos, you will surely not be disappointed. The playing, positioning and recording are first-rate, and the three pieces recorded are charming, entertaining and with a good feel for motivic development. Whether they form part of a more extended investigation into the composer’s repertoire for violin and piano, or remain just a one-off sampler, at the bargain price offered, they are simply too good to miss.
– Philip R Buttall, MusicWeb International
Ferdinand Ries was Beethoven’s student, close friend and biographer, but until quite recently was very much one of those composers living in the shadow of his Bonn master, rather than as the gifted and prolific composer he in fact was.
American pianist, author and educator Susan Kagan has explored the music of those composers associated with Beethoven and his musical scene. In fact she has researched the music of Archduke Rudolph – Beethoven’s composition student for more than twenty years – for her Ph.D. This was subsequently published by Pendragon Press back in 1988. More recently she has almost single-handedly championed the cause of Ries’s piano music, with five CDs of his Sonatas and Sonatinas on the Naxos label.
Kagan explains: ‘Ries studied piano with Beethoven (both were natives of Bonn, Germany) and was entrusted by him with such work as making transcriptions and piano arrangements, and copying orchestral parts of Beethoven’s new works. Ries moved to England in 1813, married an Englishwoman, and had a successful career touring as a virtuoso concert pianist. At the same time he was composing prodigiously and virtually everything he wrote was published. His thorough knowledge of Beethoven’s music undoubtedly helped shape Ries’s style, but his piano sonatas, from 1809 on, show an adventurous turn toward an expressive keyboard style anticipating that of the first generation of Romantic piano composers – Mendelssohn, Chopin, and Schumann. His gift for melody is like Schubert’s, and he is ever inventive in creating and developing beautiful themes. While his symphonies and concertos are ‘public’ works, intended for large audiences and concert halls, the piano sonatas are his most personally-expressive works, revealing an individual outlook on a genre of music cultivated by that great triumvirate of the Classical period – Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven.’
Ries also composed eighteen violin sonatas, which were brought out by Bonn music-publisher, Simrock, who also published much of Beethoven’s music. On this latest release from Naxos, Kagan is joined by violinist and fellow-American Eric Grossman, in an exploration of three of Ries’s violin sonatas, two from his op. 8 set, and his op. 19, all world-première recordings. However, unlike the piano sonatas, which have been released as part of a series of volumes, by starting here with a well-chosen selection from the eighteen extant examples, it gives the record company the option of releasing further violin sonatas in the future, or just letting this present single CD speak on behalf of the other fifteen.
It is interesting that the opening movements of the Sonata in F, Op. 8 No. 1, recorded first, and the Sonata in C minor, Op. 8 No. 2 that follows, have more than just a passing acquaintance with movements by Beethoven himself. While the latter first movement is very reminiscent of the corresponding movement from Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in the same key, Op. 10 No. 3, the F major Sonata opens in a pastoral vein, with a main theme which immediately hints at Beethoven’s ‘Spring’ Sonata for violin and piano in the same key. Rather than reinforcing the idea that Ries is merely mimicking his teacher – what follows, in both of Ries’s sonatas, after the initial ‘homage to Ludwig’, really does confirm that the younger composer has an individual voice, and subsequently embarks on quite a different musical journey from his master.
Of the violin sonatas as a whole, Kagan continues: ‘(They) are models of the Viennese Classical sonata style established by Mozart: most are in three movements, with first movements in sonata-allegro form, lyrical slow movements in ternary (ABA) form, and rondo finales. Like Mozart, Ries divides the material to provide equal interest for both instruments.’ The Sonata in F largely adheres to this pattern, though is, in fact, a four-movement work, with a sprightly Scherzo and Trio in the tonic minor (F minor) following the opening ‘Allegro ma non troppo’, before a conventional, though short slow movement, leads to the finale, with its essentially rustic theme. However, this soon contrasts with the central episode, where staccato triplets evolve into a vigorous fugato section (like a fugue, but not fully played-out), and something which, according to Kagan in her compact, yet succinct and informative sleeve-notes, is an unusual event in Ries’s music, where polyphonic writing is ‘generally avoided’.
The characteristic dotted rhythms and robust dynamics of the ‘Allegro con spirito’ that open the Sonata in C minor, imbue it initially with an almost martial character, but this soon turns lyrical, in which vein the ensuing ‘Adagio cantabile’ slow movement continues, and which also then acts as the perfect aperitif to the lightness of the closing rondo, with its staccato texture and preponderance of rapid repeated notes.
The so-named Grande Sonata in F minor, while the shortest of the three works on the CD, is nevertheless conceived in large scale, both with regards structure and content, and with its key, and the dramatic insistence of the opening movement’s main theme, link it in character to Beethoven’s ‘Appassionata’ piano sonata, written some five years earlier. Unlike Beethoven’s work, Ries’s sonata begins with a short and poignant ‘Largo espressivo’ introduction – not unlike the opening of Beethoven’s earlier ‘Pathétique’ sonata, but providing nowhere near as dramatic a lead-in. Ries maintains the feverish mood of the ‘Allegro agitato’ throughout, despite the occasional sections away from the over-arching minor tonality, and the movement’s calmly-understated close. The following slow movement, in a gentle triple measure, and in the relative major key (A flat major), has a simple charm and eloquence that makes it extremely endearing and pleasing on the ear, but with sufficient contrast within, to hold the listener’s attention throughout. The overall playful mood of the final rondo also has more than enough variety, both rhythmically and melodically in its main theme and episodes, to sustain it, with some real fireworks in the central episode. The music has a decidedly Schubertian feel, both thematically, and in Ries’s use of tonality, where more remote keys figure, and there is often a characteristic shift from major to minor and back. Yet again Ries chooses to finish like a lamb, rather than a lion – something Beethoven does in the opening movement of his ‘Appassionata’, but not in the work’s tumultuous and clattering coda to the finale.
Whichever way you look at this latest Ries CD from Naxos, you will surely not be disappointed. The playing, positioning and recording are first-rate, and the three pieces recorded are charming, entertaining and with a good feel for motivic development. Whether they form part of a more extended investigation into the composer’s repertoire for violin and piano, or remain just a one-off sampler, at the bargain price offered, they are simply too good to miss.
– Philip R Buttall, MusicWeb International
Mahler: Symphony No 9 / Nott, Bamberg SO
Tudor
SACD
$26.99
Nov 17, 2009
Jonathan Nott’s Mahler cycle has now reached the fourth installment. Recordings have already been issued of the First Symphony, the Fifth Symphony and the Fourth. This is the first in the series to come my way.
Before considering the performance I think a few words about the recording itself may be helpful – I listened to these hybrid SACDs as conventional CDs. When I first started listening I thought that the sound appeared almost too close. In fact, I found that my ears soon adjusted as the performance continued and that I didn’t find the closeness to be as much of an issue on further hearings. I suppose the effect is rather akin to sitting just a few rows back from the stage in the concert hall. The orchestra sounds very ‘present’. There certainly seems to be a good spread of sound from one side of the platform, as it were, to the other but I’m less sure that there’s adequate front-to-back perspective. Another feature of the recording is that Nott has divided his violins left and right – of which I heartily approve. However, until the finale, where the strings dominate the scoring for much of the time, I couldn’t hear much of the viola, cello or double bass lines. In fact the strings as a whole are too easily swamped by the wind and brass sections in the first three movements.
For comparison I put on Simon Rattle’s Berliner Philharmoniker recording, which I so much admired in 2008 (see review by Tony Duggan). Here too the recording is fairly close but much more inner string detail is evident. I strongly suspect that the Tudor engineers have used a limited microphone array in an effort to present a truthful concert hall sound image whereas the EMI team have probably used multiple microphones placed within or above the orchestra in order to capture much more detail. I think the Tudor sound does indeed present the sort of sound that you’d hear in a concert hall – and Mahler’s scoring is very often wind- and brass-heavy – and it depends whether you want a recording for home listening to give you a concert hall perspective or whether you want as much detail as possible.
So you might want to sample the recording before purchasing. However, even if the sound is not quite your ideal – and, as I say, my ears adjusted quite quickly – sonic considerations aren’t everything here for Nott leads a fine performance of this magnificent, complex symphony.
He takes a fairly spacious view of I. In fact, at 29:46 his is one of the longest performances I know. Rattle is slightly quicker overall (28:56) but it’s interesting to note that some, though by no means all, conductors of the previous generation have taken less time over this movement. Barbirolli, for example, took 26:53 in his famous EMI Berlin recording, while Kubelik’s live 1975 reading (Audite) took 26:44. The celebrated 1938 Bruno Walter recording flashes by in 24:47. Have Mahler performances broadened over the years?
Nott may be spacious but throughout the movement his control and concentration are impressive. His reading isn’t as passionate as Rattle can be at times; it’s more patient. There were one or two occasions when I thought his speeds were just a little bit too measured but as a whole his reading is impressive. The climaxes are thrust home – at these points one has the impression that the orchestra is playing flat out – but the quiet passages often impress. For example the ghostly passage between 8: 01 and 9:47 is imaginatively presented with lots of good detail – I like the distanced muted horns, for instance. I think it would be fair to say that sometimes the violins sound just a little thin in alt and the string bass line is certainly underpowered – no doubt because one is so used, with many other conductors, to hearing the cellos and basses prominently through the right hand speaker. But, set against that I must say straightaway that much of the playing is vivid, the orchestra’s response is totally committed and there’s a lot of fine solo playing to admire. I have heard more dramatic, angst-ridden accounts of this amazingly rich movement but drama isn’t the whole story by any means and Nott’s account is very convincing and never less than wholly musical. He seems to see the whole movement in one long sweep and I admire his way with it very much.
The two inner movements go very well. There’s a good deal of sharply etched, piquant playing in II. Nott paces the music very well and he judges the many tempo modifications expertly. His reading of III is dynamic and thrusting. He and the engineers bring out a great deal of the teeming contrapuntal detail in the score. The trio (from 5:55) is taken at a suitably relaxed pace. This is nostalgic music but I like the fact that Nott never wallows in the sentiment; on the contrary, forward momentum is nicely maintained – and praise too for the solo trumpeter, whose silvery tone is just right. When the Rondo resumes (10:23) the music is turbulent and exciting right to the last bar.
The strings come into their own in the finale. The opening paragraphs are full-toned but the emotion is not overdone – Nott doesn’t play his cards too soon. The string playing is very good, the tone just weighty enough - and now we do hear a satisfyingly strong bass line. One rather special moment occurs between 4:05 and 4:54 where Nott obtains the most atmospheric playing imaginable from his strings. At this point the bass line is spectral with a wafer-thin violin line on top.
Nott unfolds the finale compellingly and the Bamberg strings and horn section in particular do him proud. Once again, this isn’t perhaps the most overtly emotional reading I’ve heard but the patience – perhaps even a degree of reserve? – brings its own rewards. Nott’s ability to take the long view and to build the movement incrementally means that when we reach the sustained ardent passage that lies at the heart of the movement (14:18 – 17:03) the effect is all the greater. The closing pages of this movement are always a huge test for players and conductor alike. Here the test is passed very successfully. During the last four minutes or so, starting with the second violin entry at 21:07, the music gradually winds down, all passion spent.
This Mahler Ninth is a very fine achievement. A host of great conductors and leading orchestras have essayed this symphony on disc over the years and though the seventeen versions on my own shelves don’t quite go from A to Z they do go from Barbirolli to Walter. This new version can certainly contend with the best of them and it’s one to which I’m sure I shall be returning frequently in the future.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Before considering the performance I think a few words about the recording itself may be helpful – I listened to these hybrid SACDs as conventional CDs. When I first started listening I thought that the sound appeared almost too close. In fact, I found that my ears soon adjusted as the performance continued and that I didn’t find the closeness to be as much of an issue on further hearings. I suppose the effect is rather akin to sitting just a few rows back from the stage in the concert hall. The orchestra sounds very ‘present’. There certainly seems to be a good spread of sound from one side of the platform, as it were, to the other but I’m less sure that there’s adequate front-to-back perspective. Another feature of the recording is that Nott has divided his violins left and right – of which I heartily approve. However, until the finale, where the strings dominate the scoring for much of the time, I couldn’t hear much of the viola, cello or double bass lines. In fact the strings as a whole are too easily swamped by the wind and brass sections in the first three movements.
For comparison I put on Simon Rattle’s Berliner Philharmoniker recording, which I so much admired in 2008 (see review by Tony Duggan). Here too the recording is fairly close but much more inner string detail is evident. I strongly suspect that the Tudor engineers have used a limited microphone array in an effort to present a truthful concert hall sound image whereas the EMI team have probably used multiple microphones placed within or above the orchestra in order to capture much more detail. I think the Tudor sound does indeed present the sort of sound that you’d hear in a concert hall – and Mahler’s scoring is very often wind- and brass-heavy – and it depends whether you want a recording for home listening to give you a concert hall perspective or whether you want as much detail as possible.
So you might want to sample the recording before purchasing. However, even if the sound is not quite your ideal – and, as I say, my ears adjusted quite quickly – sonic considerations aren’t everything here for Nott leads a fine performance of this magnificent, complex symphony.
He takes a fairly spacious view of I. In fact, at 29:46 his is one of the longest performances I know. Rattle is slightly quicker overall (28:56) but it’s interesting to note that some, though by no means all, conductors of the previous generation have taken less time over this movement. Barbirolli, for example, took 26:53 in his famous EMI Berlin recording, while Kubelik’s live 1975 reading (Audite) took 26:44. The celebrated 1938 Bruno Walter recording flashes by in 24:47. Have Mahler performances broadened over the years?
Nott may be spacious but throughout the movement his control and concentration are impressive. His reading isn’t as passionate as Rattle can be at times; it’s more patient. There were one or two occasions when I thought his speeds were just a little bit too measured but as a whole his reading is impressive. The climaxes are thrust home – at these points one has the impression that the orchestra is playing flat out – but the quiet passages often impress. For example the ghostly passage between 8: 01 and 9:47 is imaginatively presented with lots of good detail – I like the distanced muted horns, for instance. I think it would be fair to say that sometimes the violins sound just a little thin in alt and the string bass line is certainly underpowered – no doubt because one is so used, with many other conductors, to hearing the cellos and basses prominently through the right hand speaker. But, set against that I must say straightaway that much of the playing is vivid, the orchestra’s response is totally committed and there’s a lot of fine solo playing to admire. I have heard more dramatic, angst-ridden accounts of this amazingly rich movement but drama isn’t the whole story by any means and Nott’s account is very convincing and never less than wholly musical. He seems to see the whole movement in one long sweep and I admire his way with it very much.
The two inner movements go very well. There’s a good deal of sharply etched, piquant playing in II. Nott paces the music very well and he judges the many tempo modifications expertly. His reading of III is dynamic and thrusting. He and the engineers bring out a great deal of the teeming contrapuntal detail in the score. The trio (from 5:55) is taken at a suitably relaxed pace. This is nostalgic music but I like the fact that Nott never wallows in the sentiment; on the contrary, forward momentum is nicely maintained – and praise too for the solo trumpeter, whose silvery tone is just right. When the Rondo resumes (10:23) the music is turbulent and exciting right to the last bar.
The strings come into their own in the finale. The opening paragraphs are full-toned but the emotion is not overdone – Nott doesn’t play his cards too soon. The string playing is very good, the tone just weighty enough - and now we do hear a satisfyingly strong bass line. One rather special moment occurs between 4:05 and 4:54 where Nott obtains the most atmospheric playing imaginable from his strings. At this point the bass line is spectral with a wafer-thin violin line on top.
Nott unfolds the finale compellingly and the Bamberg strings and horn section in particular do him proud. Once again, this isn’t perhaps the most overtly emotional reading I’ve heard but the patience – perhaps even a degree of reserve? – brings its own rewards. Nott’s ability to take the long view and to build the movement incrementally means that when we reach the sustained ardent passage that lies at the heart of the movement (14:18 – 17:03) the effect is all the greater. The closing pages of this movement are always a huge test for players and conductor alike. Here the test is passed very successfully. During the last four minutes or so, starting with the second violin entry at 21:07, the music gradually winds down, all passion spent.
This Mahler Ninth is a very fine achievement. A host of great conductors and leading orchestras have essayed this symphony on disc over the years and though the seventeen versions on my own shelves don’t quite go from A to Z they do go from Barbirolli to Walter. This new version can certainly contend with the best of them and it’s one to which I’m sure I shall be returning frequently in the future.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Rachmaninov: Symphonic Dances / Petrenko, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic
Avie Records
CD
$19.99
Mar 01, 2010
Vasily Petrenko (b. 1976) has been leading the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra since September 2006 and has recently extended his contract until at least 2015. His work on Merseyside has been drawing many very enthusiastic notices, including several on MusicWeb International. However, until now, with the exception of his recording of Sir John Tavener’s recent Requiem (see review) I’ve not heard any of his performances. If this thrilling disc is anything to go by then I’ve been missing something.
I’ve long thought that Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances ranks among his finest works but this new recording really made me sit up and take fresh notice. For that Petrenko and his orchestra must take a huge amount of credit. However, the quality of the recording itself also has much to do with it. I can only describe the sound on this CD as stunning. By chance, immediately before I put this new Avie disc in my player I’d been listening to Vladimir Ashkenazy’s 1983 Decca recording of Symphonic Dances and The Isle of the Dead. Those are extremely fine performances, splendidly recorded by Decca in the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. On that disc the sound is warm, yet very clear and there’s a good deal of space round the orchestra – I strongly suspect the orchestra was set out on the auditorium floor in the empty Concertgebouw. This Avie recording offers a very different experience for the sound is closer – though not oppressively so – and very present.
Producer John Fraser and Engineer David A. Pigott have produced here one of the best recordings of a symphony orchestra that I’ve heard in a very long time. The orchestra is, as I said, very present yet very natural also. The recording offers a wide side-to-side perspective and also very good front-to-back definition. There’s an abundance of detail to hear – the percussion thrillingly reported and the brass impressive without ever sounding domineering – yet without any sense of artificial spotlighting of sections or individual instruments. With a satisfyingly rich bass foundation and an impressive dynamic range this recording presents the orchestra in a most exciting and very musical way. The sound has terrific definition, not least in the quiet passages, and packs a real punch at climaxes. Best of all, the recording lets you hear just how impressive the performances are. For the orchestra there are few hiding places in Symphonic Dances, especially when the sound is as clear and detailed as this, but the RLPO are consistently sure-footed.
The quality of the recording and Petrenko’s care over balance got my attention from the first bars of Symphonic Dances. The very opening is light, crisp and delicate after which the bold string chords have a most impressive weight. Petrenko drives the music forward with vigour but never overplays his hand. The saxophone solo (from 3:26) is lovingly phrased, imparting just the right feeling of wistful nostalgia. In the succeeding passage (to 5:46) there’s some excellent woodwind playing – and not for the last time on this disc, either. When the strings take up the melody it sings gloriously – and between them Petrenko and the engineers balance the accompaniment of harp and piano perfectly. The eventual return to the movement’s opening material is at first suspenseful and then very exciting. Rachmaninov’s self-quotation from his First Symphony is warmly delivered but without any over-indulgence.
If I have a small criticism it concerns the brevity of the gaps between the movements. There’s a mere two seconds between the first and second dances – the Ashkenazy disc has some six seconds – and only three seconds between the second and third movements. Just a little more time would have been welcome. The second movement is a spectral, awkward waltz: in the memorable phrase of annotator Anthony Bateman “Evening has brought its ghosts”. Petrenko shapes the music with great imagination, conjuring up for this listener at least an image of a dimly lit and faded ballroom that has rather gone to seed. The RLPO strings play splendidly, with plenty of body to their tone – and their woodwind colleagues offer equally fine playing. Petrenko is alive to all the nuances and subtle inflections of Rachmaninov’s music. His is a colourful and well-imagined reading and he draws really responsive playing from his orchestra. Among many details that I relished is the nutty tone of the violas between 7:05 and 7:23 followed by the sound of really hushed violins and a doleful bassoon.
Once Petrenko reaches the main material of the third dance his reading has abundant energy but, rightly, there’s more than a sense of foreboding as well. As a sample of the impressive way in which soft passages are handled, sample the rather sinister passage introduced by the bass clarinet (5:04). Shortly afterwards (6:60 – 9:55) the long, brooding string paragraph, in which the RLPO players excel, is surely Rachmaninov revisiting his Second Symphony but with a melancholy air, knowing that those days are gone for ever. In the last five or six minutes Petrenko urges his players on to an exciting yet darkly-tinged conclusion. In these pages the tambourine, tam-tam and xylophone contributions are magnificently caught by the microphones and the dramatic last few bars bring a superb performance of the work to a tumultuous conclusion.
Recently, I was greatly taken with a live performance of The Isle of the Dead conducted by Evgeny Svetlanov (see review). I found that reading enthralling but its very expansiveness probably courts controversy and will not be to all tastes. Petrenko’s reading is more mainstream, if I may put it that way, in terms of pacing. His account, at 20:58. lasts for almost the same time as Ashkenazy’s (20:52) and is similar in length to several other recordings on my shelves. Mind you, it is salutary to note that the composer’s own 1929 recording with the Philadelphia Orchestra lasts a “mere” 18:05 and even after eighty years that recording still sounds well – and packs a real interpretative punch!
Petrenko isn’t in the Svetlanov league when it comes to expansiveness but his interpretation is still full of brooding power – and his performance affords better playing than we hear on the Svetlanov disc and, as you’d expect, comes in much better sound. This Liverpool account establishes a very potent atmosphere right from the outset. There’s dark grandeur in the playing – and in Petrenko’s conception of the work. As in Symphonic Dances the excellence of the sound supports Petrenko’s balancing of the orchestra magnificently. Between 7:22 and 7:44, for example, the balance between the cello tune and the woodwind decoration round it is outstandingly successful. Later on (8:04 – 9:40) the ear is impressed mightily by sonorous brass, pounding timpani and weighty strings.
Petrenko builds the piece to an impressive and potent central climax, thrillingly reported by the recording, but the way he winds the tension down in the following bars is just as noteworthy. Later on, he invests the urgent, surging string passage (11:23 - 12:59) with real ardour and the main climax of the piece (around 15:30) is shattering in its intensity. As Charon, the boatman, rows back across the Styx from the Isle, his work done for now, the opening music returns and Petrenko controls the sombre conclusion very effectively.
In a way I wish the disc had ended there; the piece that’s placed last would have been a more satisfying opener, I believe. The Rock is a youthful work but a significant achievement nonetheless by the twenty-year-old composer. Apparently Tchaikovsky admired the piece and it’s not hard to see why for the scoring is attractive and the invention is strong. For much of its course the nature of the music is much lighter than that of the other two works on the disc. Petrenko conducts with grace and affection but also does the powerful stretches towards the end very well. In the first few minutes the principal flute, Cormac Henry, has a lot of demanding solo work and he shines under the spotlight that Rachmaninov trains on him. Another example of finesse that caught my ear was the exquisite passage of string tremolandi between 7:04 and 7:39 – it’s details such as this that puts the stamp of distinction on this release. As a piece The Rock may not be the equal of the other works on this disc but it has many attractions and it receives a very fine performance here.
As I hope I’ve conveyed, this is an exceptional disc in every way. It’s one that I’ve enjoyed enormously but I also admire it greatly as an achievement both on the part of the musicians and of the engineers. If you’ve wondered why so much fuss is being made about the work that Vasily Petrenko is doing with the RLPO then this superb CD should provide the answer. Already, in early February, this disc is on my shortlist of Recordings of the Year.
One final thought. Could Avie be persuaded to record this team in Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony? If Petrenko and the RLPO could recapture in a recording of that great, sweeping symphony the form shown on this disc then the result would be a serious challenge to the longstanding hegemony of André Previn’s 1973 recording with the LSO (EMI). Meanwhile, don’t wait to see if that disc appears. Buy this one – now! I doubt you’ll regret it and I hope it will excite you as much as it has excited me.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
I’ve long thought that Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances ranks among his finest works but this new recording really made me sit up and take fresh notice. For that Petrenko and his orchestra must take a huge amount of credit. However, the quality of the recording itself also has much to do with it. I can only describe the sound on this CD as stunning. By chance, immediately before I put this new Avie disc in my player I’d been listening to Vladimir Ashkenazy’s 1983 Decca recording of Symphonic Dances and The Isle of the Dead. Those are extremely fine performances, splendidly recorded by Decca in the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. On that disc the sound is warm, yet very clear and there’s a good deal of space round the orchestra – I strongly suspect the orchestra was set out on the auditorium floor in the empty Concertgebouw. This Avie recording offers a very different experience for the sound is closer – though not oppressively so – and very present.
Producer John Fraser and Engineer David A. Pigott have produced here one of the best recordings of a symphony orchestra that I’ve heard in a very long time. The orchestra is, as I said, very present yet very natural also. The recording offers a wide side-to-side perspective and also very good front-to-back definition. There’s an abundance of detail to hear – the percussion thrillingly reported and the brass impressive without ever sounding domineering – yet without any sense of artificial spotlighting of sections or individual instruments. With a satisfyingly rich bass foundation and an impressive dynamic range this recording presents the orchestra in a most exciting and very musical way. The sound has terrific definition, not least in the quiet passages, and packs a real punch at climaxes. Best of all, the recording lets you hear just how impressive the performances are. For the orchestra there are few hiding places in Symphonic Dances, especially when the sound is as clear and detailed as this, but the RLPO are consistently sure-footed.
The quality of the recording and Petrenko’s care over balance got my attention from the first bars of Symphonic Dances. The very opening is light, crisp and delicate after which the bold string chords have a most impressive weight. Petrenko drives the music forward with vigour but never overplays his hand. The saxophone solo (from 3:26) is lovingly phrased, imparting just the right feeling of wistful nostalgia. In the succeeding passage (to 5:46) there’s some excellent woodwind playing – and not for the last time on this disc, either. When the strings take up the melody it sings gloriously – and between them Petrenko and the engineers balance the accompaniment of harp and piano perfectly. The eventual return to the movement’s opening material is at first suspenseful and then very exciting. Rachmaninov’s self-quotation from his First Symphony is warmly delivered but without any over-indulgence.
If I have a small criticism it concerns the brevity of the gaps between the movements. There’s a mere two seconds between the first and second dances – the Ashkenazy disc has some six seconds – and only three seconds between the second and third movements. Just a little more time would have been welcome. The second movement is a spectral, awkward waltz: in the memorable phrase of annotator Anthony Bateman “Evening has brought its ghosts”. Petrenko shapes the music with great imagination, conjuring up for this listener at least an image of a dimly lit and faded ballroom that has rather gone to seed. The RLPO strings play splendidly, with plenty of body to their tone – and their woodwind colleagues offer equally fine playing. Petrenko is alive to all the nuances and subtle inflections of Rachmaninov’s music. His is a colourful and well-imagined reading and he draws really responsive playing from his orchestra. Among many details that I relished is the nutty tone of the violas between 7:05 and 7:23 followed by the sound of really hushed violins and a doleful bassoon.
Once Petrenko reaches the main material of the third dance his reading has abundant energy but, rightly, there’s more than a sense of foreboding as well. As a sample of the impressive way in which soft passages are handled, sample the rather sinister passage introduced by the bass clarinet (5:04). Shortly afterwards (6:60 – 9:55) the long, brooding string paragraph, in which the RLPO players excel, is surely Rachmaninov revisiting his Second Symphony but with a melancholy air, knowing that those days are gone for ever. In the last five or six minutes Petrenko urges his players on to an exciting yet darkly-tinged conclusion. In these pages the tambourine, tam-tam and xylophone contributions are magnificently caught by the microphones and the dramatic last few bars bring a superb performance of the work to a tumultuous conclusion.
Recently, I was greatly taken with a live performance of The Isle of the Dead conducted by Evgeny Svetlanov (see review). I found that reading enthralling but its very expansiveness probably courts controversy and will not be to all tastes. Petrenko’s reading is more mainstream, if I may put it that way, in terms of pacing. His account, at 20:58. lasts for almost the same time as Ashkenazy’s (20:52) and is similar in length to several other recordings on my shelves. Mind you, it is salutary to note that the composer’s own 1929 recording with the Philadelphia Orchestra lasts a “mere” 18:05 and even after eighty years that recording still sounds well – and packs a real interpretative punch!
Petrenko isn’t in the Svetlanov league when it comes to expansiveness but his interpretation is still full of brooding power – and his performance affords better playing than we hear on the Svetlanov disc and, as you’d expect, comes in much better sound. This Liverpool account establishes a very potent atmosphere right from the outset. There’s dark grandeur in the playing – and in Petrenko’s conception of the work. As in Symphonic Dances the excellence of the sound supports Petrenko’s balancing of the orchestra magnificently. Between 7:22 and 7:44, for example, the balance between the cello tune and the woodwind decoration round it is outstandingly successful. Later on (8:04 – 9:40) the ear is impressed mightily by sonorous brass, pounding timpani and weighty strings.
Petrenko builds the piece to an impressive and potent central climax, thrillingly reported by the recording, but the way he winds the tension down in the following bars is just as noteworthy. Later on, he invests the urgent, surging string passage (11:23 - 12:59) with real ardour and the main climax of the piece (around 15:30) is shattering in its intensity. As Charon, the boatman, rows back across the Styx from the Isle, his work done for now, the opening music returns and Petrenko controls the sombre conclusion very effectively.
In a way I wish the disc had ended there; the piece that’s placed last would have been a more satisfying opener, I believe. The Rock is a youthful work but a significant achievement nonetheless by the twenty-year-old composer. Apparently Tchaikovsky admired the piece and it’s not hard to see why for the scoring is attractive and the invention is strong. For much of its course the nature of the music is much lighter than that of the other two works on the disc. Petrenko conducts with grace and affection but also does the powerful stretches towards the end very well. In the first few minutes the principal flute, Cormac Henry, has a lot of demanding solo work and he shines under the spotlight that Rachmaninov trains on him. Another example of finesse that caught my ear was the exquisite passage of string tremolandi between 7:04 and 7:39 – it’s details such as this that puts the stamp of distinction on this release. As a piece The Rock may not be the equal of the other works on this disc but it has many attractions and it receives a very fine performance here.
As I hope I’ve conveyed, this is an exceptional disc in every way. It’s one that I’ve enjoyed enormously but I also admire it greatly as an achievement both on the part of the musicians and of the engineers. If you’ve wondered why so much fuss is being made about the work that Vasily Petrenko is doing with the RLPO then this superb CD should provide the answer. Already, in early February, this disc is on my shortlist of Recordings of the Year.
One final thought. Could Avie be persuaded to record this team in Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony? If Petrenko and the RLPO could recapture in a recording of that great, sweeping symphony the form shown on this disc then the result would be a serious challenge to the longstanding hegemony of André Previn’s 1973 recording with the LSO (EMI). Meanwhile, don’t wait to see if that disc appears. Buy this one – now! I doubt you’ll regret it and I hope it will excite you as much as it has excited me.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Elgar: The Crown Of India / Davis, BBC Philharmonic
Chandos
CD
$21.99
Nov 17, 2009
At last a version of this legendary work for pleasure, analysis and study.
I am normally something of a 'completist' when it comes to music. And that includes works that may not necessarily reflect a composer at his or her best. If Bloggs wrote 101 songs then, if at all possible there should be at least one fair recording made of each – if for no other reason than to provide context. The best can then be compared to the not so good and can be seen to shine. Ivor Gurney may be an exception to this rule: there is much debate about his ‘unplayable and un-publishable’ songs and chamber works yet many folk want to give these an airing - even if it means damaging the composer’s reputation. Imagine a neophyte finds a CD of Bloggs’s Unknown Songs. Further, imagine that they are not very good. Could this put our friend off not only Bloggs but also English lieder? Perhaps they would be best left un-played and unrecorded? Other issues arise, such as the composer’s intentions. Did they regard these pieces as worthy? Or did they suppress them? This argument has surfaced with the repristination of the early music - which had been believed destroyed - by William Alwyn and suppressed works by RVW. I hasten to add that I am grateful for these CDs and have especially enjoyed hearing the former’s tone-poem Blackdown and the latter’s Heroic Elegy.
Let us turn to The Crown of India. Most Elgar enthusiasts will know the Suite derived from this ‘Imperial Masque’. It has been issued in a number of recordings over the years, including a fine version from Chandos with the Scottish National Orchestra conducted by Sir Alexander Gibson. The March of the Moguls has also been a popular extract. However, up until this present CD, it has not been possible to hear the complete work in its original format. The question is: is this a worthwhile project?
Firstly let’s dispose of the anti-Imperial argument. There are two (at least) approaches to history. One is, I guess relative and the other is absolute. Some people will refuse to give any credence to an historical personage if they were involved in any activity that is now regarded as politically incorrect, even if it was not always regarded in this light. Men like Cecil Rhodes and Clive of India are despised or at best belittled by ‘liberal’ society. Yet, surely it should be possible to admire the achievement of a woman or a man who did much good work with their involvement in world affairs. Obviously parts of their careers can be justly criticised, but the person themselves cannot be separated from their milieu. Few people in the world are truly forward-thinking: most of us, both living and dead are and were children of our time.
I can hear people condemning this present work as jingoistic - as imperial nonsense. It is a work that sets the British Empire up against the people of India. As such it could be argued that it should be consigned to the dustbin of musical history. We no longer think in terms of Britain Ruling the Waves (except at The Last Night) nor do we necessarily regard the British way of life as being something that must be imposed on other cultures. Things, perhaps, work the other way round these days. So can we justify listening to and perhaps even enjoying this Masque? Only if we can enter the historical setting in our mind’s ear without too many feelings of guilt! However, we ought to judge this work - or any work - on its musical and literary merits rather than its political and cultural resonances down through the years.
The Crown of India is a masque that was written and performed in 1912 to celebrate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary to Delhi. This was part of a ‘durbar’ in that city as part of the celebrations for their coronation as the Emperor and Empress of India. The masque was commissioned by a certain Oswald Stoll and combined a libretto by Henry Hamilton and the music of Edward Elgar. The work was given its first performance at the Coliseum Theatre in London on 11 March 1912. The masque ran for two performances a day for two weeks. At that time the Coliseum was a variety theatre rather than the opera house we know today. Ironically, Diana McVeagh points out that Elgar’s music was performed alongside a programme that included “gymnastic equilibrists, a ventriloquist, a Russian harpist, a scene from Barrie’s The Twelve Pound Look, continental mimes, with the Tannhauser Overture as interval music.” It must have been quite an evening!
The work was conceived in two tableaux, separated by an interlude: it is made up of a dozen pieces or scenes. The first tableau is entitled ‘The Cities of India’ and the second ‘Ave Imperator’. The format called for the personification of ‘India’ and the cities of Agra, Delhi, Calcutta and Benares and also England (not the United Kingdom) by St. George. The chorus consisted of a cast of thousands including Mogul Emperors, Princes, Guards, Executioners, Courtiers, Fan-Bearers, Ladies Attendant Syce (grooms), Litter Bearers, Heralds, and Trumpeters. The work is scored for contralto, bass, chorus and orchestra. However it was not conceived for a symphony orchestra as such but a typical theatre ‘pit’ band of the era although it was considerably ‘augmented’.
It will be helpful to note the tableaux in a slightly simplified list:-
1(a) - Introduction, and (b) Sacred Measure
2 - Dance of the Nautch Girls
2(a) – India greets her cities
3 - Hail, Immemorial Ind! (The Homage of Ind)
4 - March of the Mogul Emperors
5 - Entrance of John Company
6 - Rule of England (St. George’s Song)
7 - Interlude
8 - Warriors' Dance
9 - Cities of India
10 - Crown of India March
11 - Crowning of Delhi
12 - Ave Imperator
In the first tableau the cities of Calcutta and Delhi, personified by the two speakers, plead to be made India’s capital city. In the second, the Emperor rather diplomatically resolves the contention. He states that “… Delhi to be his capital names, And of his Empire, further makes decree, Calcutta shall the premier city be”.
Percy Young has noted that in the early months of 1912 Elgar had moved into Severn House and was conscious “not only of its nobility but also its expense.” So it is fair to say that the commission came at the right time and contributed to the finances.
It is important not to be too critical about the text of the masque. It is easy to write off Henry Hamilton’s libretto as ‘doggerel’ but it was very much a period piece: it is what would have been expected at the time. However, the composer was not overly impressed with the political tone of the words but was able to see the possibilities it presented for producing a colourful score. Elgar was able to cut a number of the worst parts of the text and began composing the music and falling back on mining some earlier works and sketches as he did so. Music rescued from The Sanguine Fan, Falstaff and the Apostles has been identified.
So what are we to make, musically at least, of this massive period piece? Percy Young in his 1955 study of the composer has captured its mood. He writes that “despite the skilful spread of motive, there is no genuine consistency in The Crown of India, but vivid flashes of imaginative treatment, combined with instances of tenderness and charm.” It is a judgement that holds well today.
The make-weights on the second CD are useful additions to the catalogue of Elgar’s imperial, or less pejoratively, his ceremonial music. The Imperial March Op.32 was composed in 1896-7 and was the composer’s first essay in this genre. It was commissioned by Novellos to mark the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria in 1897. At the same time Elgar also received a commission to write The Banner of St George. The Imperial March received its first performance at a Crystal Place concert on 19 April of the same year. Interestingly, this piece is more in the style of what Eric Coates was to compose some quarter of a century later. There is no great pretence at writing profound music – instead it has a tune that has “a spring in its step, and a sunny dance-like trio”. Elgar was not the first to compose this kind of March. Parry had written a fine example in his incidental music for Hypatia. It was however his first essay in what was to become a long line of ceremonial marches. Diana McVeagh notes that it was the Imperial March that “first carried his name throughout the land”.
The Coronation March Op. 65 is a totally different piece. Gone is the light-heartedness of the earlier piece, to be replaced by music that has a depth of emotion and variety of mood that is rare in a work of its genre. The March was a ‘laureate’ work commissioned for the Coronation of King George V in 1911. It has been well said that the composer is mourning the death of the old King rather than cheering the accession of the new. In many ways it has the air of a funeral march rather than a rumbustious paean of welcome for the monarch. I have no doubt that this is one of the best marches that Elgar wrote – or anyone else for that matter. One strange fact associated with this piece is the fact the composer had already written the main opening theme for a projected ballet based on the tales of Rabelais! It is assumed that he abandoned this project because of Victorian prudery and pressure from his wife Alice.
I have always had a soft spot for the Empire March even if it is not the best of the bunch. This work was composed in 1924 to inaugurate the British Empire Exhibition held at Wembley in that year. It is interesting, if somewhat poignant, that this is one of the very few works to be completed after the death of Alice in 1920. The Elgar Society webpage suggests that “it is but a pale shadow of his earlier marches, lacking the distinctiveness and decisiveness of melody which so characterised his more successful marches …” Yet there is an interest in these pages and a certain backward glance to happier times.
I am not quite sure why Chandos have chosen to give two versions of The Crown of India – one with the spoken text and one without. I would have thought that a single version would have sufficed for what is a very uneven work. However, if it had been a single CD, there would have been no room for the three Marches. Furthermore, I doubt if this work will receive many concert performances, in spite of the fact that the Elgar Society have just published the full score. I imagine that if it is performed it will be in the edited version.
All this being said, and I have not really made my mind up about this piece yet, this CD is a must for all Elgar cognoscenti even if they are, like me, not over-enthusiastic about the main event. I enjoyed some of this music. I certainly enjoyed the fine performances by Sir Andrew Davis, the soloists and speakers and the BBC Philharmonic. I appreciate the amount of work that Anthony Payne has invested in this project to realise the score. But was it worth it? I will probably not listen to this work again but I will occasionally play The Crown of India Suite. However, it is important to know that a version of this legendary work is available for pleasure, analysis and study. The amount of effort that has been required to realise this masque may seem to some a little excessive and perhaps misdirected.
Perhaps the project can best be summed up in two quotations from the sleeve-notes. The first is from Nalini Ghuman: “( The Crown of India is) a fascinating work of imperialism: historically illuminating and often musically rich, it is nevertheless a profoundly embarrassing piece - a significant contribution to the orientalised India of the English imagination.” And the second is written by Andrew Neill. He concludes his essay by suggesting that ‘although Elgar’s subject is now out of fashion we can hear how, despite its tendentious nature and poor quality, Elgar rises above Hamilton’s text with colourful music of great variety … it may not be India, but it is Elgar, who did this sort of thing better than anyone else.”
-- John France, MusicWeb International
I am normally something of a 'completist' when it comes to music. And that includes works that may not necessarily reflect a composer at his or her best. If Bloggs wrote 101 songs then, if at all possible there should be at least one fair recording made of each – if for no other reason than to provide context. The best can then be compared to the not so good and can be seen to shine. Ivor Gurney may be an exception to this rule: there is much debate about his ‘unplayable and un-publishable’ songs and chamber works yet many folk want to give these an airing - even if it means damaging the composer’s reputation. Imagine a neophyte finds a CD of Bloggs’s Unknown Songs. Further, imagine that they are not very good. Could this put our friend off not only Bloggs but also English lieder? Perhaps they would be best left un-played and unrecorded? Other issues arise, such as the composer’s intentions. Did they regard these pieces as worthy? Or did they suppress them? This argument has surfaced with the repristination of the early music - which had been believed destroyed - by William Alwyn and suppressed works by RVW. I hasten to add that I am grateful for these CDs and have especially enjoyed hearing the former’s tone-poem Blackdown and the latter’s Heroic Elegy.
Let us turn to The Crown of India. Most Elgar enthusiasts will know the Suite derived from this ‘Imperial Masque’. It has been issued in a number of recordings over the years, including a fine version from Chandos with the Scottish National Orchestra conducted by Sir Alexander Gibson. The March of the Moguls has also been a popular extract. However, up until this present CD, it has not been possible to hear the complete work in its original format. The question is: is this a worthwhile project?
Firstly let’s dispose of the anti-Imperial argument. There are two (at least) approaches to history. One is, I guess relative and the other is absolute. Some people will refuse to give any credence to an historical personage if they were involved in any activity that is now regarded as politically incorrect, even if it was not always regarded in this light. Men like Cecil Rhodes and Clive of India are despised or at best belittled by ‘liberal’ society. Yet, surely it should be possible to admire the achievement of a woman or a man who did much good work with their involvement in world affairs. Obviously parts of their careers can be justly criticised, but the person themselves cannot be separated from their milieu. Few people in the world are truly forward-thinking: most of us, both living and dead are and were children of our time.
I can hear people condemning this present work as jingoistic - as imperial nonsense. It is a work that sets the British Empire up against the people of India. As such it could be argued that it should be consigned to the dustbin of musical history. We no longer think in terms of Britain Ruling the Waves (except at The Last Night) nor do we necessarily regard the British way of life as being something that must be imposed on other cultures. Things, perhaps, work the other way round these days. So can we justify listening to and perhaps even enjoying this Masque? Only if we can enter the historical setting in our mind’s ear without too many feelings of guilt! However, we ought to judge this work - or any work - on its musical and literary merits rather than its political and cultural resonances down through the years.
The Crown of India is a masque that was written and performed in 1912 to celebrate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary to Delhi. This was part of a ‘durbar’ in that city as part of the celebrations for their coronation as the Emperor and Empress of India. The masque was commissioned by a certain Oswald Stoll and combined a libretto by Henry Hamilton and the music of Edward Elgar. The work was given its first performance at the Coliseum Theatre in London on 11 March 1912. The masque ran for two performances a day for two weeks. At that time the Coliseum was a variety theatre rather than the opera house we know today. Ironically, Diana McVeagh points out that Elgar’s music was performed alongside a programme that included “gymnastic equilibrists, a ventriloquist, a Russian harpist, a scene from Barrie’s The Twelve Pound Look, continental mimes, with the Tannhauser Overture as interval music.” It must have been quite an evening!
The work was conceived in two tableaux, separated by an interlude: it is made up of a dozen pieces or scenes. The first tableau is entitled ‘The Cities of India’ and the second ‘Ave Imperator’. The format called for the personification of ‘India’ and the cities of Agra, Delhi, Calcutta and Benares and also England (not the United Kingdom) by St. George. The chorus consisted of a cast of thousands including Mogul Emperors, Princes, Guards, Executioners, Courtiers, Fan-Bearers, Ladies Attendant Syce (grooms), Litter Bearers, Heralds, and Trumpeters. The work is scored for contralto, bass, chorus and orchestra. However it was not conceived for a symphony orchestra as such but a typical theatre ‘pit’ band of the era although it was considerably ‘augmented’.
It will be helpful to note the tableaux in a slightly simplified list:-
1(a) - Introduction, and (b) Sacred Measure
2 - Dance of the Nautch Girls
2(a) – India greets her cities
3 - Hail, Immemorial Ind! (The Homage of Ind)
4 - March of the Mogul Emperors
5 - Entrance of John Company
6 - Rule of England (St. George’s Song)
7 - Interlude
8 - Warriors' Dance
9 - Cities of India
10 - Crown of India March
11 - Crowning of Delhi
12 - Ave Imperator
In the first tableau the cities of Calcutta and Delhi, personified by the two speakers, plead to be made India’s capital city. In the second, the Emperor rather diplomatically resolves the contention. He states that “… Delhi to be his capital names, And of his Empire, further makes decree, Calcutta shall the premier city be”.
Percy Young has noted that in the early months of 1912 Elgar had moved into Severn House and was conscious “not only of its nobility but also its expense.” So it is fair to say that the commission came at the right time and contributed to the finances.
It is important not to be too critical about the text of the masque. It is easy to write off Henry Hamilton’s libretto as ‘doggerel’ but it was very much a period piece: it is what would have been expected at the time. However, the composer was not overly impressed with the political tone of the words but was able to see the possibilities it presented for producing a colourful score. Elgar was able to cut a number of the worst parts of the text and began composing the music and falling back on mining some earlier works and sketches as he did so. Music rescued from The Sanguine Fan, Falstaff and the Apostles has been identified.
So what are we to make, musically at least, of this massive period piece? Percy Young in his 1955 study of the composer has captured its mood. He writes that “despite the skilful spread of motive, there is no genuine consistency in The Crown of India, but vivid flashes of imaginative treatment, combined with instances of tenderness and charm.” It is a judgement that holds well today.
The make-weights on the second CD are useful additions to the catalogue of Elgar’s imperial, or less pejoratively, his ceremonial music. The Imperial March Op.32 was composed in 1896-7 and was the composer’s first essay in this genre. It was commissioned by Novellos to mark the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria in 1897. At the same time Elgar also received a commission to write The Banner of St George. The Imperial March received its first performance at a Crystal Place concert on 19 April of the same year. Interestingly, this piece is more in the style of what Eric Coates was to compose some quarter of a century later. There is no great pretence at writing profound music – instead it has a tune that has “a spring in its step, and a sunny dance-like trio”. Elgar was not the first to compose this kind of March. Parry had written a fine example in his incidental music for Hypatia. It was however his first essay in what was to become a long line of ceremonial marches. Diana McVeagh notes that it was the Imperial March that “first carried his name throughout the land”.
The Coronation March Op. 65 is a totally different piece. Gone is the light-heartedness of the earlier piece, to be replaced by music that has a depth of emotion and variety of mood that is rare in a work of its genre. The March was a ‘laureate’ work commissioned for the Coronation of King George V in 1911. It has been well said that the composer is mourning the death of the old King rather than cheering the accession of the new. In many ways it has the air of a funeral march rather than a rumbustious paean of welcome for the monarch. I have no doubt that this is one of the best marches that Elgar wrote – or anyone else for that matter. One strange fact associated with this piece is the fact the composer had already written the main opening theme for a projected ballet based on the tales of Rabelais! It is assumed that he abandoned this project because of Victorian prudery and pressure from his wife Alice.
I have always had a soft spot for the Empire March even if it is not the best of the bunch. This work was composed in 1924 to inaugurate the British Empire Exhibition held at Wembley in that year. It is interesting, if somewhat poignant, that this is one of the very few works to be completed after the death of Alice in 1920. The Elgar Society webpage suggests that “it is but a pale shadow of his earlier marches, lacking the distinctiveness and decisiveness of melody which so characterised his more successful marches …” Yet there is an interest in these pages and a certain backward glance to happier times.
I am not quite sure why Chandos have chosen to give two versions of The Crown of India – one with the spoken text and one without. I would have thought that a single version would have sufficed for what is a very uneven work. However, if it had been a single CD, there would have been no room for the three Marches. Furthermore, I doubt if this work will receive many concert performances, in spite of the fact that the Elgar Society have just published the full score. I imagine that if it is performed it will be in the edited version.
All this being said, and I have not really made my mind up about this piece yet, this CD is a must for all Elgar cognoscenti even if they are, like me, not over-enthusiastic about the main event. I enjoyed some of this music. I certainly enjoyed the fine performances by Sir Andrew Davis, the soloists and speakers and the BBC Philharmonic. I appreciate the amount of work that Anthony Payne has invested in this project to realise the score. But was it worth it? I will probably not listen to this work again but I will occasionally play The Crown of India Suite. However, it is important to know that a version of this legendary work is available for pleasure, analysis and study. The amount of effort that has been required to realise this masque may seem to some a little excessive and perhaps misdirected.
Perhaps the project can best be summed up in two quotations from the sleeve-notes. The first is from Nalini Ghuman: “( The Crown of India is) a fascinating work of imperialism: historically illuminating and often musically rich, it is nevertheless a profoundly embarrassing piece - a significant contribution to the orientalised India of the English imagination.” And the second is written by Andrew Neill. He concludes his essay by suggesting that ‘although Elgar’s subject is now out of fashion we can hear how, despite its tendentious nature and poor quality, Elgar rises above Hamilton’s text with colourful music of great variety … it may not be India, but it is Elgar, who did this sort of thing better than anyone else.”
-- John France, MusicWeb International
Homage - Mozart: The Haydn Quartets / Alexander String Quartet
Foghorn Classics
CD
$37.99
Jan 01, 2004
Immaculate professionalism … huge and telling ensemble experience, instrumental mastery practically faultless … Classical elegance and textural clarity.
This triple-CD set was originally published in 2004, but has recently been reissued, presumably to coincide with the Alexander String Quartet's newest CD, a not altogether inspiring collection of not altogether inspired arrangements of music by George Gerswhin and Jerome Kern.
The ASQ cannot go wrong with Mozart, though, and they do not. This is Mozart arguably at his finest in six works of sparkling imagination, style and technique, inspired by the six Quartets op.33 with which Haydn had recently opened new musical doors. Three years separate the first and last, an indication that Mozart spent a for him unusually long time working on them, a fact he confirmed in his dedication to Haydn when they were published in 1785.
In the last few years the ASQ have made many recordings for Foghorn Classics - to date there have been some 15 releases, including several double- or triple-discs. Their most important recordings have been the complete Quartets both of Beethoven, twice - with the current line-up for Foghorn on CD-2005 and with three-quarters the same ensemble in the Nineties for Arte Nova Classics - and of Shostakovich, on Foghorn again (CD-1988, CD-1991). Needless to say, each cycle met with considerable acclaim.
Individually, Mozart's 'Haydn' Quartets have been recorded countless times by every string quartet worth its salt. More importantly, there have also been numerous cycles of the six together, with or without additional works, and some of these are indisputably better deals than this Foghorn, which is dear by any standards - the equivalent, in fact, of three full-price singles. To cite merely top-rankers: the Alban Berg Quartet (7 CDs, EMI 5855812; alternatively, 4 CDs on Teldec 995495), the Emerson Quartet (3 CDs, DG 431797), the Melos Quartet (3 CDs, DG 415870), the Hagen Quartet (3 CDs, DG 471024 or 7 CDs, DG 000649302), the Quatuor Ysaÿe (3 CDs, Decca 473963), the Amadeus Quartet (6 CDs, DG 001408002), the Talich Quartet (7 CDs, La Dolce Vita 100), the Chilingirian Quartet (5 CDs, CRD 5005), the Franz Schubert Quartet (5 CDs, Nimbus NI1778) and the Guarneri Quartet newly reissued on RCA (6 CDs, 1918042). A few of these boxed sets are available at half the Foghorn price or less. On the other hand, the Takács Quartet on Hungaroton (HCD 12983-85) play only the 'Haydn' Quartets at a price that is more eye-watering still than Foghorn's, and for all its brilliance, the Quartetto Italiano boxed set (8 CDs, Philips 416419) will likely be out of most mortals' price range.
Financial differentials aside, all the readings above have their own many strong points, with perceived weaknesses often coming down to aesthetics. The ASQ - who last year celebrated their 30th anniversary - are hard to fault in any regard: their professionalism is immaculate, their ensemble experience huge and telling, their instrument mastery practically faultless. They exhibit a Classical elegance and textural clarity that Haydn would surely have approved of. For those not on a budget, this is a safe purchase that will repay the outlay with hours of repeated pleasure.
Sound quality is very good indeed, as it invariably is at the AAAL: intimate, yet spacious, with all four instruments beautifully defined. The accompanying booklet is excellent - notes by Eric Bromberger provide just the right amount of detail for everyman and expert alike, though in English only.
Rather wantonly, each CD ends with a literal foghorn. These are thankfully on separate tracks!
-- Byzantion, MusicWeb International
This triple-CD set was originally published in 2004, but has recently been reissued, presumably to coincide with the Alexander String Quartet's newest CD, a not altogether inspiring collection of not altogether inspired arrangements of music by George Gerswhin and Jerome Kern.
The ASQ cannot go wrong with Mozart, though, and they do not. This is Mozart arguably at his finest in six works of sparkling imagination, style and technique, inspired by the six Quartets op.33 with which Haydn had recently opened new musical doors. Three years separate the first and last, an indication that Mozart spent a for him unusually long time working on them, a fact he confirmed in his dedication to Haydn when they were published in 1785.
In the last few years the ASQ have made many recordings for Foghorn Classics - to date there have been some 15 releases, including several double- or triple-discs. Their most important recordings have been the complete Quartets both of Beethoven, twice - with the current line-up for Foghorn on CD-2005 and with three-quarters the same ensemble in the Nineties for Arte Nova Classics - and of Shostakovich, on Foghorn again (CD-1988, CD-1991). Needless to say, each cycle met with considerable acclaim.
Individually, Mozart's 'Haydn' Quartets have been recorded countless times by every string quartet worth its salt. More importantly, there have also been numerous cycles of the six together, with or without additional works, and some of these are indisputably better deals than this Foghorn, which is dear by any standards - the equivalent, in fact, of three full-price singles. To cite merely top-rankers: the Alban Berg Quartet (7 CDs, EMI 5855812; alternatively, 4 CDs on Teldec 995495), the Emerson Quartet (3 CDs, DG 431797), the Melos Quartet (3 CDs, DG 415870), the Hagen Quartet (3 CDs, DG 471024 or 7 CDs, DG 000649302), the Quatuor Ysaÿe (3 CDs, Decca 473963), the Amadeus Quartet (6 CDs, DG 001408002), the Talich Quartet (7 CDs, La Dolce Vita 100), the Chilingirian Quartet (5 CDs, CRD 5005), the Franz Schubert Quartet (5 CDs, Nimbus NI1778) and the Guarneri Quartet newly reissued on RCA (6 CDs, 1918042). A few of these boxed sets are available at half the Foghorn price or less. On the other hand, the Takács Quartet on Hungaroton (HCD 12983-85) play only the 'Haydn' Quartets at a price that is more eye-watering still than Foghorn's, and for all its brilliance, the Quartetto Italiano boxed set (8 CDs, Philips 416419) will likely be out of most mortals' price range.
Financial differentials aside, all the readings above have their own many strong points, with perceived weaknesses often coming down to aesthetics. The ASQ - who last year celebrated their 30th anniversary - are hard to fault in any regard: their professionalism is immaculate, their ensemble experience huge and telling, their instrument mastery practically faultless. They exhibit a Classical elegance and textural clarity that Haydn would surely have approved of. For those not on a budget, this is a safe purchase that will repay the outlay with hours of repeated pleasure.
Sound quality is very good indeed, as it invariably is at the AAAL: intimate, yet spacious, with all four instruments beautifully defined. The accompanying booklet is excellent - notes by Eric Bromberger provide just the right amount of detail for everyman and expert alike, though in English only.
Rather wantonly, each CD ends with a literal foghorn. These are thankfully on separate tracks!
-- Byzantion, MusicWeb International
Karel Ančerl: Live Recordings / Czech Philharmonic Orchestra
Supraphon
CD
$149.99
Feb 11, 2022
Previously unreleased recordings by one of the great conductors of the 20th century.
Karel Ančerl. One of the most important conductors of post-war Europe. A man who survived the Nazi concentration camps and the avowed anti-Semitism of communist Czechoslovakia. An artist who, through enormous patience and dedication, built the Czech Philharmonic into a world-class orchestra and introduced it successfully at the most important concert halls.
From 2002 to 2008, Supraphon issued the highly acclaimed Ančerl Gold Edition with the bulk of his artistic legacy, containing nearly his complete studio recordings with the Czech Philharmonic on 48 albums. But that was far from everything. Hidden in the archive of Czech Radio, there is a wealth of concert recordings that gives us a more complete picture of this conductor. From that treasury, on 15 albums, Supraphon has selected repertoire of which studio recordings were not made; that repertoire covers a broad range from Mozart to works by Ančerl’s contemporaries.
The recordings include masterpieces by Dvořák (Symphonies Nos. 7 and 8, Biblical Songs) and Suk (Asrael, Ripening), music by composers admired and promoted by Ančerl (Martinu Symphony No. 1 and Kabelác Symphony No. 5), and major works of the worldwide 20th-century repertoire (Debussy, Ravel, Strauss, Prokofiev, etc.). The only exception of a “duplication” of a studio recording is Smetana’s Má vlast. This taping of a Prague Spring Festival concert in May 1968 was one of the last recordings Ančerl made before his definitive departure for Toronto. The concert recordings from the years 1949-1968 document the maturing of this remarkable artist perhaps even more clearly than his studio legacy.
REVIEW:
Performances appearing on CD for the first time include, most notably, Josef Suk’s epic Asrael symphony (1967), a recording that captures the full emotional range of what’s surely the greatest Czech symphony after Dvo∑ák. Most impressive is the impact of Suk’s vivid orchestration, the timpani and bass drum especially, and the way An∂erl charts the work’s dramatic sequence of events, its emotional extremes and tragic demeanor. Never before have I felt the ‘angel of death’ transform into the ‘angel of love’ at the end of the work as it does here. Even the memorable Václav Talich (also on Supraphon) doesn’t quite match up. The mono sound is exceptionally clear but Suk’s The Ripening, another fine performance, is offered in stereo, as is Smetana’s Má vlast (both 1968), where the vengeful third piece, about the fearsome amazon Šárka, is driven to paroxysms of rage.
Perhaps the most absorbing inclusion conceptually is Ervín Schulhoff’s musical setting of portions from the Communist Manifesto. Beyond his miraculous survival of Auschwitz (where his family was murdered), An∂erl joined the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia. Schulhoff had sent the only copy of his full score to the Leningrad Conservatory for safe keeping, but it was believed lost during the long siege of the city and the version that An∂erl conducts here (in 1962) is an orchestration by Svatopluk Havelka. Schulhoff had become convinced by the ideas coming out of the Soviet Union after working in Berlin in the 1920s and ’30s and was on the run from the Nazis in the later years of the 1930s, but was captured in 1941 and died in Wülzburg concentration camp in 1942 of tuberculosis. Whatever one’s political leanings (even in view of the subsequent Soviet invasion of An∂erl’s homeland, not to mention Ukraine at the present time), one can understand why he connected so deeply with fascism’s nemesis. The work itself resembles, on the one hand, the politically charged choral pieces of Prokofiev and Shostakovich, while on the other recalls the world of Mahler (try disc 15 track 6 from 7'25", where you can hear clear echoes of Mahler’s Sixth Symphony).
This is an extremely important set, very well transferred, superbly annotated (by Petr Kadlec) and sturdily presented. I can’t recommend it more highly than that.
-- Gramophone (Rob Cowan)
August Klughardt: Symphony No. 5; Overtures
CPO
CD
$18.99
Nov 19, 2013
Orchestral works by August Klughardt "represents an impressive case on behalf of a composer to whom one simply cannot listen without becoming personally involved." - Klassik.com Vol. 1, Germany, [Nov. 9, 2013]
Klughardt’s symphonies were frequently performed during his lifetime, and his fifth such work displays a special compositional history. He composed it in 1892, the year during which he celebrated his twenty-fifth anniversary as a conductor in Dessau. In this early form, however, the work was not yet a Symphony in C minor but a String Sextet in C sharp minor, which unfortunately has not come down to us, so that we can no longer compare it to the later symphony. The frequent employment of a solo violin in almost all the movements nevertheless must surely be an inheritance from the original string sextet version. This highly animated, vital, and sonorous music and two overtures by this Dessau master are interpreted by the »home team,« the Anhalt Philharmonic, this time under the conductor Antony Hermus. - CPO, (Translated from German text.)
Klughardt’s symphonies were frequently performed during his lifetime, and his fifth such work displays a special compositional history. He composed it in 1892, the year during which he celebrated his twenty-fifth anniversary as a conductor in Dessau. In this early form, however, the work was not yet a Symphony in C minor but a String Sextet in C sharp minor, which unfortunately has not come down to us, so that we can no longer compare it to the later symphony. The frequent employment of a solo violin in almost all the movements nevertheless must surely be an inheritance from the original string sextet version. This highly animated, vital, and sonorous music and two overtures by this Dessau master are interpreted by the »home team,« the Anhalt Philharmonic, this time under the conductor Antony Hermus. - CPO, (Translated from German text.)
Elgar: The Dream Of Gerontius Op. 38 / Elder, Groves, Terfel, Coote, Et Al
Halle
CD
$32.99
Oct 01, 2008
A remarkable achievement.
Last year, when I surveyed most of the available recordings of The Dream of Gerontius, I expressed the hope that Mark Elder, as he then was, and his Hallé forces might make a commercial recording of the work. That hope was inspired by the remarkable performance that they had given at the 2005 Henry Wood Promenade Concerts, which, as I commented at the time, made a great impression on me. Having re-listened to it more than once in the off-air recording I made, I now feel it was, quite simply, the finest live account of the work that I ever expect to hear. And now, with almost identical forces, the newly-knighted Sir Mark Elder has made a studio recording. It comes too late for the 150th anniversary of Elgar’s birth but instead, and more fittingly, perhaps, it marks the Hallé’s own 150th birthday, which falls this year.
The inevitable question is: has it been worth the wait for this recording? The answer is an unequivocal "yes".
The American tenor, Paul Groves, reprises the role of Gerontius, as I hoped he would. I hadn’t realised it at the time but we learn from the booklet biography that his performance at the 2005 Proms was his debut in the role, which makes his achievement that night all the more remarkable. His greatest virtue of all, it seems to me, is the clarity and ease of his singing. Every note is hit right in the centre and his voice has an exciting and pleasing ring. The top notes are always true and secure. I followed in the score but, frankly, that was superfluous as far as the text is concerned for Groves’ diction is crystal clear – as, indeed, is that of the other soloists and the choirs.
In Part I Elgar sets his tenor a task that is almost impossible. The singer must try to suggest the frailty of a man on his death bed while, at the same time, he must be able to deliver heroic, dramatic passages, such as ‘Sanctus fortis’. Groves is fully equal to the dramatic sections though sometimes he does sound a little too healthy for a dying man. ‘Sanctus fortis’ is a huge test and it’s one that Groves passes with flying colours. He starts it in ringing, forthright voice but later on, just before cue 48 in the vocal score, he shades off the end of the phrase "Parce mihi, Domine" with great sensitivity. In this aria, and frequently during the performance as a whole, he demonstrates prodigious breath control. One example occurs in ‘Sanctus fortis’, where the whole eight-bar phrase, "For the love of Him alone, Holy Church as his creation" is taken in one span, where most tenors take a breath, quite legitimately, after the comma. Later, the first phrase of ‘Take me away’ is one glorious, seamless whole, as it should be but often isn’t. Returning to ‘Sanctus fortis’, there’s a lovely piangendo at cue 53, when the words "Sanctus fortis" are repeated gently by Gerontius, and then the phrase "O Jesu, help" is truly anguished. Groves’ delivery of the climatic "In Thine own agony", top B flat and all, is magnificent. In all, his performance of this testing keynote aria is very fine.
Part II brings different demands for the tenor soloist. Now he represents the soul of the dead Gerontius. Quite a bit of the music in Part I required the vocal resources of a heldentenor but the opening pages of Part II needs the subtlety of a lieder singer. I’m not sure that Groves is quite successful in these passages. The clear, pleasing singing remains a constant feature but he doesn’t seem to delve as deeply into the words as do some of his distinguished predecessors in the role. As an example, I compared the first solo – "I went to sleep" - as sung on disc by John Mitchinson (for Rattle) and by Anthony Rolfe Johnson (Vernon Handley). Both are so much more responsive to the words and both also sing more quietly. Groves can’t quite match those experienced masters of the role. But he brings his own insights and subtleties to the part and his dialogue with the Angel is intelligently and sensitively sung. Inspired, no doubt, by the presence of an audience, he was a touch more spontaneous at times in the live Proms performance. On the other hand, on that occasion he had to project into a huge acoustic. Here, recording under studio conditions, he can offer a more subtly nuanced reading. The last section of the role, the aria ‘Take me away’, is another hugely demanding solo. Groves’ opening is superb. Later on, perhaps, a little more dynamic contrast would have been welcome but his fervour – not overdone - firm tone and excellent breath control offer ample compensation and the final phrase – "there let me be" – is most affecting.
Alice Coote, who was the Angel in the Proms performance, once again takes the role for the recording. Like Paul Groves she offers much but I found it interesting to compare this performance with her live account. To my ears her voice has a slight edge to it at times in this present performance and her tone doesn’t have quite the same degree of warmth and fullness that she exhibited at the Proms. That said, she is right inside the role, she sings with feeling and commitment and her performance gives a great deal of pleasure. I like, for example, the inflection she brings to the words, "this child of clay". A little later on, she has the right amount of legato and warmth for "A presage falls upon thee." That wonderful passage "There was a mortal" is done with appropriate inwardness – I think she does this passage even better here than in the Proms performance. Her account of the celebrated Farewell is lovely. She brings compassion and dignity to this solo and sends the Soul of Gerontius on his way in a most reassuring way.
There is one change to the line up of soloists that took part in the Prom performance and it’s a significant one. In place of Matthew Best, who sang in 2005, Bryn Terfel sings the two bass solos. This is luxury casting indeed. Terfel is a magisterial Priest. His opening phrases are delivered with all the power and sonority that one would expect from this singer. However, I was delighted to note how, as the aria unfolds, he’s attentive to Elgar’s dynamic markings, which are often quiet, and by so doing he makes the Priest’s words properly prayerful. He’s an imposing Angel of The Agony, singing this dramatic solo quite splendidly. One relishes the sheer amplitude of his voice but, once again, one notes how attentive he is to the dynamic markings – and it makes such a difference. Often I’ve found that a soloist is more suited to one of these two solos than the other but on this occasion Terfel is completely successful in both.
At the Proms performance the Hallé Youth Choir, a mixed-voice choir whose members are aged between twelve and nineteen years, sang the crucial semi chorus parts. Their contribution was important then and I’m delighted to find them similarly involved this time. The involvement of these young singers, for whom this recording must have been a tremendous experience, gives this performance an edge over most of its CD rivals. Benjamin Britten scored a significant coup by using the choir of King’s College, Cambridge as the semi chorus when he recorded Gerontius in 1971 and I wonder if Sir Mark Elder had that precedent in mind. The use of young voices, with their completely different timbre, results in a sharp and very telling contrast and I find the effect is really exciting and atmospheric. The writing for the semi chorus is often extremely exposed but the young Hallé singers rise to the challenge superbly and their fresh, youthful voices add an additional and very welcome dimension to the choral sound. I think their involvement is a major success and I applaud it unreservedly.
Their adult colleagues in the main Hallé Choir are also on top form. They’ve obviously been prepared superbly by their chorus master, James Burton. So, every strand is clear in "Be merciful" and they bring real bite and urgency to "Rescue him." In the Demons’ Chorus their singing is virile and has excellent definition. Perhaps they could have snarled a bit more but it’s an exciting account of the chorus. Equally fine is ‘Praise to the Holiest’ and, towards the end, they are clear, controlled and atmospheric at "Lord, Thou hast been our refuge", never an easy passage to bring off.
The orchestral contribution is, if anything, even finer. From the very start of the Prelude to Part I you sense we’re in for something a bit special. The playing glows here and elsewhere. Dynamics are beautifully observed, the rhythms are well articulated and there’s a consistent feeling that the players are right inside the idiom and playing with belief. Two things are worthy of special comment. Firstly, the engineers have contrived to balance the organ beautifully so that whenever it plays it enriches the textures without being unduly prominent. Secondly, the harp part is hugely important and once again, the instrument is balanced perfectly so that time and again one is aware of its importance yet it never draws unwarranted attention to itself.
But for all the splendour of these contributions the whole is knitted into something much greater than the sum of its parts by Sir Mark Elder. Writing of his Prom performance I suggested that one or two of his tempi were a fraction too fleet. I have no such feelings here. I cannot recall a single bar in the whole score when I felt that the pacing wasn’t just right. Elder has demonstrated in several previous Elgar recordings and performances that he is a master interpreter of this composer. This superb interpretation confirms that judgement in spades. His shaping of the Prelude is masterly and that sets the tone for the whole performance. He is scrupulous in his observance of Elgar’s markings and in many ways that’s the key to success in Elgar performance for the composer was copious in the indications he gave in the score and if a conductor trusts Elgar and follows the markings that’s more than half the battle.
The performance has huge sweep and conviction but there are also many small points that show Elder’s meticulous and perceptive attention to detail. One example comes in the Prelude a couple of bars before cue 17 when the orchestra plays a quiet, stabbing chord, with the gong adding a frisson. Elder places and balances that chord to perfection. Move on to the short, hushed Prelude to Part II, for the strings alone. Elder obtains miraculous, luminous textures from his players and in a mere twenty-six bars he establishes an otherworldly atmosphere, just as Elgar intended. Best of all, at cue 3 the dynamic marking is an incredible pppp. Elder achieves precisely that and the effect is superb. Only one other conductor in my experience has matched this, namely Simon Rattle in his 1986 EMI recording, but to be honest, I think even Rattle is put in the shade at this point. These are very small points in themselves but they catch the ear and show the scrupulous attention to detail that has gone into the preparation of this performance.
Elder, however, is anything but a micro-manager. He is magnificent in the big moments. The end of Part I, after the chorus has joined the bass soloist at "Go, in the name of Angels and Archangels", is brought off expertly. Every strand of Elgar’s many-layered tableau is given its proper weight and the whole passage causes the eyes – or my eyes, at any rate – to prickle, as it should. Even better is the long build up to ‘Praise to the Holiest’. This long passage, after the Angel’s solo "There was a mortal" is challenging, but Elder’s direction is superbly assured. Once again, all the various strands - semi chorus, chorus, orchestra and two soloists - are knitted together perfectly. One thing I admired particularly is the way in which Elder paces the several short sections marked Poco più animato with a vernal eagerness and then observes the decelerations, marked by Elgar, to perfection. Here the ladies of the chorus and the younger ladies in the semi chorus sing with a wide-eyed freshness that is completely appropriate to Angelicals. The whole passage is an unqualified success and Elder builds the tension and the atmosphere so that when the choir erupts at "Praise to the Holiest" it is as if great gold doors have been thrown open to reveal blinding light. Elder handles the ensuing chorus masterfully. The last pages, from cue 94 onwards, are tremendously exciting without recourse to excessive speed as Sakari Oramo does on his CBSO recording (see review). The end of the chorus bids fair to lift the roof off the Bridgewater Hall yet Elder’s forces have more to give and manage to observe the crescendo on the last, long chord. It’s a thrilling moment.
One more example of Elder’s perceptive command of the score and of his forces will suffice. In Part II, starting at cue 114, is the remarkable passage where Gerontius sings, "I go before my Judge", followed by the choir’s muffled entreaties, "Be merciful". Elder distils the most incredible atmosphere in these bars. The music has an awestruck quality that I’ve never heard brought out so well. It sounds as if everyone – Paul Groves, the choirs, the orchestra – is on tenterhooks, scarcely daring to articulate the notes. It’s the most remarkable piece of music making imaginable.
So how can I sum up this recording? I think it’s a remarkable achievement and I have been greatly moved by hearing it. Paul Groves and Alice Coote both deliver very fine performances. I feel that both gave a little more in terms of spontaneity during the Proms performance, inspired by the presence of an audience. On the other hand, under studio conditions they achieve some subtle points that were not possible in the huge arena that is the Royal Albert Hall. Bryn Terfel is a superb addition to the cast. The choirs and orchestra are on inspired form and Sir Mark Elder confirms that he is the finest Elgar interpreter now before the public. Under his inspired leadership the white-hot inspiration of Elgar’s visionary score comes alive.
The performance is captured in excellent, atmospheric sound. The recording doesn’t quite have the punch and presence of the Oramo recording but it’s not far short in terms of immediacy. The forces are splendidly and truthfully balanced and the whole project is a great success for the engineers. The notes are by Michael Kennedy and up to that fine writer’s usual immaculate standard.
It has been well worth the wait for this recording. For over forty years Sir John Barbirolli’s great 1964 recording of Gerontius has dominated the catalogue. I’m sure he would rejoice that, in their 150th anniversary year, his beloved Hallé and their distinguished current Music Director have produced a worthy successor and one that offers irrefutable proof that the Elgar tradition of the Hallé is being maintained in the twenty-first century. Let us hope that Sir Mark will go on to give us new and equally fine recordings of Apostles and Kingdom but even if that doesn’t happen they have done Elgar proud with this distinguished recording which I have found to be a very moving experience.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Last year, when I surveyed most of the available recordings of The Dream of Gerontius, I expressed the hope that Mark Elder, as he then was, and his Hallé forces might make a commercial recording of the work. That hope was inspired by the remarkable performance that they had given at the 2005 Henry Wood Promenade Concerts, which, as I commented at the time, made a great impression on me. Having re-listened to it more than once in the off-air recording I made, I now feel it was, quite simply, the finest live account of the work that I ever expect to hear. And now, with almost identical forces, the newly-knighted Sir Mark Elder has made a studio recording. It comes too late for the 150th anniversary of Elgar’s birth but instead, and more fittingly, perhaps, it marks the Hallé’s own 150th birthday, which falls this year.
The inevitable question is: has it been worth the wait for this recording? The answer is an unequivocal "yes".
The American tenor, Paul Groves, reprises the role of Gerontius, as I hoped he would. I hadn’t realised it at the time but we learn from the booklet biography that his performance at the 2005 Proms was his debut in the role, which makes his achievement that night all the more remarkable. His greatest virtue of all, it seems to me, is the clarity and ease of his singing. Every note is hit right in the centre and his voice has an exciting and pleasing ring. The top notes are always true and secure. I followed in the score but, frankly, that was superfluous as far as the text is concerned for Groves’ diction is crystal clear – as, indeed, is that of the other soloists and the choirs.
In Part I Elgar sets his tenor a task that is almost impossible. The singer must try to suggest the frailty of a man on his death bed while, at the same time, he must be able to deliver heroic, dramatic passages, such as ‘Sanctus fortis’. Groves is fully equal to the dramatic sections though sometimes he does sound a little too healthy for a dying man. ‘Sanctus fortis’ is a huge test and it’s one that Groves passes with flying colours. He starts it in ringing, forthright voice but later on, just before cue 48 in the vocal score, he shades off the end of the phrase "Parce mihi, Domine" with great sensitivity. In this aria, and frequently during the performance as a whole, he demonstrates prodigious breath control. One example occurs in ‘Sanctus fortis’, where the whole eight-bar phrase, "For the love of Him alone, Holy Church as his creation" is taken in one span, where most tenors take a breath, quite legitimately, after the comma. Later, the first phrase of ‘Take me away’ is one glorious, seamless whole, as it should be but often isn’t. Returning to ‘Sanctus fortis’, there’s a lovely piangendo at cue 53, when the words "Sanctus fortis" are repeated gently by Gerontius, and then the phrase "O Jesu, help" is truly anguished. Groves’ delivery of the climatic "In Thine own agony", top B flat and all, is magnificent. In all, his performance of this testing keynote aria is very fine.
Part II brings different demands for the tenor soloist. Now he represents the soul of the dead Gerontius. Quite a bit of the music in Part I required the vocal resources of a heldentenor but the opening pages of Part II needs the subtlety of a lieder singer. I’m not sure that Groves is quite successful in these passages. The clear, pleasing singing remains a constant feature but he doesn’t seem to delve as deeply into the words as do some of his distinguished predecessors in the role. As an example, I compared the first solo – "I went to sleep" - as sung on disc by John Mitchinson (for Rattle) and by Anthony Rolfe Johnson (Vernon Handley). Both are so much more responsive to the words and both also sing more quietly. Groves can’t quite match those experienced masters of the role. But he brings his own insights and subtleties to the part and his dialogue with the Angel is intelligently and sensitively sung. Inspired, no doubt, by the presence of an audience, he was a touch more spontaneous at times in the live Proms performance. On the other hand, on that occasion he had to project into a huge acoustic. Here, recording under studio conditions, he can offer a more subtly nuanced reading. The last section of the role, the aria ‘Take me away’, is another hugely demanding solo. Groves’ opening is superb. Later on, perhaps, a little more dynamic contrast would have been welcome but his fervour – not overdone - firm tone and excellent breath control offer ample compensation and the final phrase – "there let me be" – is most affecting.
Alice Coote, who was the Angel in the Proms performance, once again takes the role for the recording. Like Paul Groves she offers much but I found it interesting to compare this performance with her live account. To my ears her voice has a slight edge to it at times in this present performance and her tone doesn’t have quite the same degree of warmth and fullness that she exhibited at the Proms. That said, she is right inside the role, she sings with feeling and commitment and her performance gives a great deal of pleasure. I like, for example, the inflection she brings to the words, "this child of clay". A little later on, she has the right amount of legato and warmth for "A presage falls upon thee." That wonderful passage "There was a mortal" is done with appropriate inwardness – I think she does this passage even better here than in the Proms performance. Her account of the celebrated Farewell is lovely. She brings compassion and dignity to this solo and sends the Soul of Gerontius on his way in a most reassuring way.
There is one change to the line up of soloists that took part in the Prom performance and it’s a significant one. In place of Matthew Best, who sang in 2005, Bryn Terfel sings the two bass solos. This is luxury casting indeed. Terfel is a magisterial Priest. His opening phrases are delivered with all the power and sonority that one would expect from this singer. However, I was delighted to note how, as the aria unfolds, he’s attentive to Elgar’s dynamic markings, which are often quiet, and by so doing he makes the Priest’s words properly prayerful. He’s an imposing Angel of The Agony, singing this dramatic solo quite splendidly. One relishes the sheer amplitude of his voice but, once again, one notes how attentive he is to the dynamic markings – and it makes such a difference. Often I’ve found that a soloist is more suited to one of these two solos than the other but on this occasion Terfel is completely successful in both.
At the Proms performance the Hallé Youth Choir, a mixed-voice choir whose members are aged between twelve and nineteen years, sang the crucial semi chorus parts. Their contribution was important then and I’m delighted to find them similarly involved this time. The involvement of these young singers, for whom this recording must have been a tremendous experience, gives this performance an edge over most of its CD rivals. Benjamin Britten scored a significant coup by using the choir of King’s College, Cambridge as the semi chorus when he recorded Gerontius in 1971 and I wonder if Sir Mark Elder had that precedent in mind. The use of young voices, with their completely different timbre, results in a sharp and very telling contrast and I find the effect is really exciting and atmospheric. The writing for the semi chorus is often extremely exposed but the young Hallé singers rise to the challenge superbly and their fresh, youthful voices add an additional and very welcome dimension to the choral sound. I think their involvement is a major success and I applaud it unreservedly.
Their adult colleagues in the main Hallé Choir are also on top form. They’ve obviously been prepared superbly by their chorus master, James Burton. So, every strand is clear in "Be merciful" and they bring real bite and urgency to "Rescue him." In the Demons’ Chorus their singing is virile and has excellent definition. Perhaps they could have snarled a bit more but it’s an exciting account of the chorus. Equally fine is ‘Praise to the Holiest’ and, towards the end, they are clear, controlled and atmospheric at "Lord, Thou hast been our refuge", never an easy passage to bring off.
The orchestral contribution is, if anything, even finer. From the very start of the Prelude to Part I you sense we’re in for something a bit special. The playing glows here and elsewhere. Dynamics are beautifully observed, the rhythms are well articulated and there’s a consistent feeling that the players are right inside the idiom and playing with belief. Two things are worthy of special comment. Firstly, the engineers have contrived to balance the organ beautifully so that whenever it plays it enriches the textures without being unduly prominent. Secondly, the harp part is hugely important and once again, the instrument is balanced perfectly so that time and again one is aware of its importance yet it never draws unwarranted attention to itself.
But for all the splendour of these contributions the whole is knitted into something much greater than the sum of its parts by Sir Mark Elder. Writing of his Prom performance I suggested that one or two of his tempi were a fraction too fleet. I have no such feelings here. I cannot recall a single bar in the whole score when I felt that the pacing wasn’t just right. Elder has demonstrated in several previous Elgar recordings and performances that he is a master interpreter of this composer. This superb interpretation confirms that judgement in spades. His shaping of the Prelude is masterly and that sets the tone for the whole performance. He is scrupulous in his observance of Elgar’s markings and in many ways that’s the key to success in Elgar performance for the composer was copious in the indications he gave in the score and if a conductor trusts Elgar and follows the markings that’s more than half the battle.
The performance has huge sweep and conviction but there are also many small points that show Elder’s meticulous and perceptive attention to detail. One example comes in the Prelude a couple of bars before cue 17 when the orchestra plays a quiet, stabbing chord, with the gong adding a frisson. Elder places and balances that chord to perfection. Move on to the short, hushed Prelude to Part II, for the strings alone. Elder obtains miraculous, luminous textures from his players and in a mere twenty-six bars he establishes an otherworldly atmosphere, just as Elgar intended. Best of all, at cue 3 the dynamic marking is an incredible pppp. Elder achieves precisely that and the effect is superb. Only one other conductor in my experience has matched this, namely Simon Rattle in his 1986 EMI recording, but to be honest, I think even Rattle is put in the shade at this point. These are very small points in themselves but they catch the ear and show the scrupulous attention to detail that has gone into the preparation of this performance.
Elder, however, is anything but a micro-manager. He is magnificent in the big moments. The end of Part I, after the chorus has joined the bass soloist at "Go, in the name of Angels and Archangels", is brought off expertly. Every strand of Elgar’s many-layered tableau is given its proper weight and the whole passage causes the eyes – or my eyes, at any rate – to prickle, as it should. Even better is the long build up to ‘Praise to the Holiest’. This long passage, after the Angel’s solo "There was a mortal" is challenging, but Elder’s direction is superbly assured. Once again, all the various strands - semi chorus, chorus, orchestra and two soloists - are knitted together perfectly. One thing I admired particularly is the way in which Elder paces the several short sections marked Poco più animato with a vernal eagerness and then observes the decelerations, marked by Elgar, to perfection. Here the ladies of the chorus and the younger ladies in the semi chorus sing with a wide-eyed freshness that is completely appropriate to Angelicals. The whole passage is an unqualified success and Elder builds the tension and the atmosphere so that when the choir erupts at "Praise to the Holiest" it is as if great gold doors have been thrown open to reveal blinding light. Elder handles the ensuing chorus masterfully. The last pages, from cue 94 onwards, are tremendously exciting without recourse to excessive speed as Sakari Oramo does on his CBSO recording (see review). The end of the chorus bids fair to lift the roof off the Bridgewater Hall yet Elder’s forces have more to give and manage to observe the crescendo on the last, long chord. It’s a thrilling moment.
One more example of Elder’s perceptive command of the score and of his forces will suffice. In Part II, starting at cue 114, is the remarkable passage where Gerontius sings, "I go before my Judge", followed by the choir’s muffled entreaties, "Be merciful". Elder distils the most incredible atmosphere in these bars. The music has an awestruck quality that I’ve never heard brought out so well. It sounds as if everyone – Paul Groves, the choirs, the orchestra – is on tenterhooks, scarcely daring to articulate the notes. It’s the most remarkable piece of music making imaginable.
So how can I sum up this recording? I think it’s a remarkable achievement and I have been greatly moved by hearing it. Paul Groves and Alice Coote both deliver very fine performances. I feel that both gave a little more in terms of spontaneity during the Proms performance, inspired by the presence of an audience. On the other hand, under studio conditions they achieve some subtle points that were not possible in the huge arena that is the Royal Albert Hall. Bryn Terfel is a superb addition to the cast. The choirs and orchestra are on inspired form and Sir Mark Elder confirms that he is the finest Elgar interpreter now before the public. Under his inspired leadership the white-hot inspiration of Elgar’s visionary score comes alive.
The performance is captured in excellent, atmospheric sound. The recording doesn’t quite have the punch and presence of the Oramo recording but it’s not far short in terms of immediacy. The forces are splendidly and truthfully balanced and the whole project is a great success for the engineers. The notes are by Michael Kennedy and up to that fine writer’s usual immaculate standard.
It has been well worth the wait for this recording. For over forty years Sir John Barbirolli’s great 1964 recording of Gerontius has dominated the catalogue. I’m sure he would rejoice that, in their 150th anniversary year, his beloved Hallé and their distinguished current Music Director have produced a worthy successor and one that offers irrefutable proof that the Elgar tradition of the Hallé is being maintained in the twenty-first century. Let us hope that Sir Mark will go on to give us new and equally fine recordings of Apostles and Kingdom but even if that doesn’t happen they have done Elgar proud with this distinguished recording which I have found to be a very moving experience.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Handel: Alceste / Curnyn, Crowe, Hulett, Foster-Williams, Early Opera Company
Chandos
CD
$21.99
May 29, 2012
The work was never performed; its main characters have no singing parts; the music written for the original project was later reworked and reused in several other stage productions. So what exactly is the attraction of Handel’s incidental music for Alceste, a play by Tobias Smollett based on the tragedy by Euripides? First, we should know that the original production—what would have been an elaborate and costly affair, involving a host of performers, supported by a large orchestra and showy scenery—was abruptly cancelled before the opening. Various theories exist as to the reason, but suffice it to say, after the event Handel happily carved up his score to satisfy the needs of other productions, and Smollett’s play ultimately was lost. Which brings us back to the question: What’s the attraction here, with this reassembled program of (much of) Handel’s music for Alceste? For me, the answer is, the two gorgeous soprano arias sung by the Muse Calliope, “Gentle Morpheus, son of night; That when bright Aurora’s beams” and “Come, Fancy, empress of the brain”. But I have to add that although Handel graced these arias with some of his loveliest tunes, they are made extraordinary here by the singing of Lucy Crowe. And this is the true attraction of this program and this disc, which is not to discount the fine contributions of the rest of the cast and players.
It’s just that Crowe so completely embraces, embodies, and possesses her music, her voice so captivating, every phrase delivered with the natural, unmannered purity that comes with consummate technique and comprehensive textual understanding. For her, a climactic high note (as at the close of “Come fancy empress…”) is not an objective but a thing to savor in the context of the whole line, indeed of the whole song; and the reams of twirling runs are a means, albeit a free-spirited and fancy means, through the vibrant, verdant harmonic texture. Ah, but that high note—and also those many earlier passages of leaping intervals—are so perfectly sung, all the more affecting because they are so fleeting, uncatchable, and as a consequence, inevitably repeatable. And those signature Handelian runs—no one sings these with such ease, unencumbered as a bird in flight.
To be sure, there’s lots more to savor on this disc, including Christian Curnyn’s absolutely spot-on direction, keeping things moving with his superb orchestra at a theatrically cheerable pace, even without the actual “theatrical” bits of the original play to define the action (whatever it was). Who cares, when the music is this typically, engagingly Handelian? My only reservations are the usual ones in Handel’s vocal music: the tenor and bass, who both have very fine voices and an excellent sense of style, manage their melismatic passages via the “ha-ha-ha” school of vocalism—which is not only distracting (I would even say irritating), but technically faulty and musically unjustifiable. They are by no means serious offenders—but the mannerism is noticeable; however, for the pure pleasure of Crowe’s singing, these are distractions that you can easily overlook, or skip over. This is one not to miss.
-- David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
Alceste was planned as a lavish collaboration between the impresario John Rich, the celebrated set-designer Servandoni and the rambunctious author of Roderick Random, Tobias Smollett, but it never made it to the stage. Notes by the librettist Thomas Morell hint that the play may have been cancelled owing to Handel’s incidental music being too difficult for the cast. However, it seems that Rich may simply have decided that an adaptation of a drama by Euripides was too risky a venture. This was, after all, a period in which the tastes of the London audience were as volatile as the explosives that had destroyed Servandoni’s Temple of Peace during the Green Park performance of Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks.
Christian Curnyn’s delicious recording of the surviving score is amplified with a sinfonia from Admeto and a passacaglia from Radamisto. These fizzy, sexily swung orchestral additions emphasise the parallels between Handel’s incidental music and Purcell’s music for King Arthur, The Fairy Queen and The Tempest.
Though Alceste was written in 1749-50 and features one aria that could only date from that time (the exquisite lullaby ‘Gentle Morpheus, son of night’), it observes the contours of a Restoration masque. Alcestis’s journey to the Underworld is enchanting, with Curnyn’s fleet strings, intimately proportioned chorus, and polished soloists, soprano Lucy Crowe, tenor Benjamin Hulett and bass-baritone Andrew Foster-Williams. The choral writing marries the pastoral delicacy of Handel’s Acis and Galatea with stylings from Purcell’s Odes to St Cecilia, showing Handel’s feel for local tastes, and Curnyn’s perceptive approach to Handel.
Performance: 5 (out of 5); Sound: 5 (out of 5)
-- Anna Picard, BBC Music Magazine
It’s just that Crowe so completely embraces, embodies, and possesses her music, her voice so captivating, every phrase delivered with the natural, unmannered purity that comes with consummate technique and comprehensive textual understanding. For her, a climactic high note (as at the close of “Come fancy empress…”) is not an objective but a thing to savor in the context of the whole line, indeed of the whole song; and the reams of twirling runs are a means, albeit a free-spirited and fancy means, through the vibrant, verdant harmonic texture. Ah, but that high note—and also those many earlier passages of leaping intervals—are so perfectly sung, all the more affecting because they are so fleeting, uncatchable, and as a consequence, inevitably repeatable. And those signature Handelian runs—no one sings these with such ease, unencumbered as a bird in flight.
To be sure, there’s lots more to savor on this disc, including Christian Curnyn’s absolutely spot-on direction, keeping things moving with his superb orchestra at a theatrically cheerable pace, even without the actual “theatrical” bits of the original play to define the action (whatever it was). Who cares, when the music is this typically, engagingly Handelian? My only reservations are the usual ones in Handel’s vocal music: the tenor and bass, who both have very fine voices and an excellent sense of style, manage their melismatic passages via the “ha-ha-ha” school of vocalism—which is not only distracting (I would even say irritating), but technically faulty and musically unjustifiable. They are by no means serious offenders—but the mannerism is noticeable; however, for the pure pleasure of Crowe’s singing, these are distractions that you can easily overlook, or skip over. This is one not to miss.
-- David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
Alceste was planned as a lavish collaboration between the impresario John Rich, the celebrated set-designer Servandoni and the rambunctious author of Roderick Random, Tobias Smollett, but it never made it to the stage. Notes by the librettist Thomas Morell hint that the play may have been cancelled owing to Handel’s incidental music being too difficult for the cast. However, it seems that Rich may simply have decided that an adaptation of a drama by Euripides was too risky a venture. This was, after all, a period in which the tastes of the London audience were as volatile as the explosives that had destroyed Servandoni’s Temple of Peace during the Green Park performance of Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks.
Christian Curnyn’s delicious recording of the surviving score is amplified with a sinfonia from Admeto and a passacaglia from Radamisto. These fizzy, sexily swung orchestral additions emphasise the parallels between Handel’s incidental music and Purcell’s music for King Arthur, The Fairy Queen and The Tempest.
Though Alceste was written in 1749-50 and features one aria that could only date from that time (the exquisite lullaby ‘Gentle Morpheus, son of night’), it observes the contours of a Restoration masque. Alcestis’s journey to the Underworld is enchanting, with Curnyn’s fleet strings, intimately proportioned chorus, and polished soloists, soprano Lucy Crowe, tenor Benjamin Hulett and bass-baritone Andrew Foster-Williams. The choral writing marries the pastoral delicacy of Handel’s Acis and Galatea with stylings from Purcell’s Odes to St Cecilia, showing Handel’s feel for local tastes, and Curnyn’s perceptive approach to Handel.
Performance: 5 (out of 5); Sound: 5 (out of 5)
-- Anna Picard, BBC Music Magazine
Bach: Complete Cantatas / Rilling, Stuttgart Bach Collegium
Haenssler Classic
CD
$139.99
Aug 30, 2011
Hänssler CLASSIC is proud to present Helmuth Rilling's landmark recording of the complete Bach Cantatas in a new, specially-price collector's edition. Rilling was the first conductor to ever record the complete Bach cantatas and still, 25 years after they were first released in celebration of the Bach tercentennial in 1985, they remain the standard by which all other interpretations are judged.
Praise for some of the original recordings that make up this set:
Complete Cantatas
"There is no question as to the excellence and distinction of many of Rilling's soloists, which feature a number of famous Bach specialists of the last quartet of a century...Rilling has proved a pragmatist in matters of historical performance practice; he adopts brisk tempos and light accents at times, but allows himself considerable expressive and agogic freedom." – Penguin Guide [2003/4 Edition]
In particular, Rilling's unaffectedly musical, period-performance-influenced but undogmatic approach seems designed to sustain long-term listener satisfaction. He's so strong in the basic qualities that matter most. For example, he has the best soloists of any major series of Bach vocal works--names like Arlene Auger, Juliane Banse, Matthias Goerne, Christophe Prégardien, Christine Schäfer--the list reads like a "who's who" of major late-20th-century singers. The choral singing also is uniformly superb.
– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Christmas Cantatas
The intensity of colour and expression in these works is stunning – the surging, brass-capped elation of Unser Mund sei voll Lachens, so full of the simple joy of the Christian message, the searching meditation on temptation in Selig ist der Mann, the seemingly bottomless well of spiritual sustenance plumbed in the chorale conclusions. Rilling’s performances (on modern instruments) are neatly tailored and naturally benevolent in nature, buoyant with the wholesomeness and warmth that this great music so frequently emanates. There is simply no better way of celebrating a musical Christmas.
– Terry Blain, BBC Music Magazine
Secular Cantatas
I'm not sure whether Helmuth Rilling has acquired a reputation for seriousness, though his recorded legacy—crowned by his complete Bach sacred cantatas series—has tended toward music of high purpose; for a primarily choral conductor, it couldn't be otherwise. Nevertheless, he shows a light touch on this disc that is in keeping with this music's intent to entertain. Rilling continues to buck trends. His instruments are modern, and his choir is relatively large (49 voices) but always precise and flexible. He does not always forsake velocity, as collectors of the sacred cantatas series will recall: Pales's wonderful second aria and its appended instrumental interlude skip smartly along. "Sheep" obeys the speed limit, but just barely. As usual, Rilling has assembled a splendid set of young soloists, who not only sing well but also get with the action.
– George Chien, Fanfare
Handel: Flavio, Re Di Longobardi / Curnyn, Early Opera Company
Chandos
CD
$43.99
Oct 26, 2010
In a really committed performance like this Flavio stands out as one of Handel’s best operas.
3442300.az_HANDEL_Flavio_Christian_Curnyn.html
HANDEL Flavio • Christian Curnyn, cond; Tim Mead ( Flavio ); Rosemary Joshua ( Emilia ); Renata Pokupi? ( Vitige ); Hilary Summers ( Teodata ); Iestyn Davies ( Guido ); Thomas Walker ( Ugone ); Andrew Foster-Williams ( Lotario ); Early Opera Company (period instruments) • CHACONNE 0773 (2 CDs: 146:23 Text and Translation)
Flavio , Handel’s fifth opera for the Royal Academy of Music, had its premiere in 1723. It was only moderately successful, achieving eight performances. One possible reason for this lack of success is the nature of the score itself. The music is written in a lighter vein than the heroic operas Handel had heretofore written for the Royal Academy of Music. Its style harkens back to his Venetian opera Agrippina . The music itself is of high quality, and the opera certainly does not deserve the neglect it has been subjected to over the centuries. Handel revived it only once, in 1732, for four performances, after which it remained unheard until 1967. This is only its second recording.
Christian Curnyn leads a very good performance that does full justice to this neglected work. He paces the work well and is respectful of Handel’s score. Although he occasionally tends to overuse the theorbo, substituting it for harpsichord at times, he is less guilty of this failing that René Jacobs in the competing recording. Da capo ornaments are generally tasteful and idiomatic. The orchestra plays with precision. Handel does not give the orchestra much of a chance to shine; most numbers are accompanied only by strings and continuo, with occasional use of flute or oboe.
The cast is also very good. Rosemary Joshua sings with accuracy and beautiful tone; she is dramatically involved in the role, as are the other members of the cast. Joshua’s performance is preferable to that of Lena Lootens on the Jacobs recording; although Lootens sings reasonably well, her voice has a hollow, white tone to it. Hilary Summers has a rather dark sound for a mezzo-soprano. She is quite good in her role, but she would have made an even better candidate for either of the two castrato roles; her tone is more masculine than either of the two countertenors on this recording. I prefer the more feminine sound of Bernarda Fink on the Jacobs recording. Honors are evenly divided between the Vitige of Renata Pokupi? here and Christina Högman for Jacobs.
Of the two countertenors, Iestyn Davies, singing Guido, the role written for the star castrato Senesino, is excellent, with an evenly produced voice of great suppleness. I prefer him to Jacobs’ Derek Lee Ragin, whose voice is not as well controlled or as attractive an instrument. In the secondary castrato role of Flavio, Tim Mead and Jeffrey Gall offer performances of equal value. The lesser roles for tenor and bass are capably handled by Thomas Walker and Andrew Foster-Williams.
David Johnson reviewed the René Jacobs recording in Fanfare 14:1. He found it to be a “splendid realization of this little-known Handel opera” but thought the work itself uneven. As usual, Jacobs fiddles with the score. At scene changes, he inserts a few bars of harpsichord improvisation or even orchestral sinfonia (but where the music comes from I’m not sure). His misuse of the lute is far more glaring than anything Curnyn does. But, like Curnyn, Jacobs’s da capo ornaments are mostly tasteful and idiomatic.
For any first-time purchaser of Flavio , I have no hesitation in recommending Curnyn as a first choice. Those who already own Jacobs’ recording need not rush to replace it. Both recordings give a very good account of an unjustly neglected work.
FANFARE: Ron Salemi
Flavio was one of the operas Handel wrote for the Royal Academy of Music’s company at the King’s Theatre on the Haymarket. It has a character all of its own, very different from that of “Giulio Cesare” which followed it in 1724. Although the plot similarly concerns power and sex, these subjects are treated in a wholly different manner. Some commentators have seen it as almost a comedy. Certainly there are moments that might bring a smile to the face of the audience. These include two successive revenge arias for outraged fathers at the start of the second Act. Also one of the main plot devices relates to who is to have the difficult job of Governor of Britain. There is little else that might be seen as comic to anyone other than many modern opera producers.
The plot is too complex to be set out in full, but in essence it concerns the rivalry of two elderly counsellors to the King of Lombardy. It is set in a legendary time when Lombardy ruled Britain. Their children and other courtiers are linked in various ways and the plot is set in motion by the King’s roving eye. The libretto was adapted by Nicola Haym from one by the Venetian Matteo Noris from 1682. Having heard and greatly enjoyed this recording I very much regret not having seen the version recently toured by English Touring Opera as part of their Handel opera series.
Nonetheless although it does not appear to derive from stage performances, the most distinctive aspect of this recording is its strongly theatrical feel. The recitatives in particular are paced and sung with real dramatic flair, and although my limited Italian meant that I needed to follow the text in the booklet there was at all times a feeling of real dramatic interaction. This is no mere concert performance and I felt as though I was watching a live event. Whilst always staying within the appropriate limits of period style (no verismo shouting here) all of the cast project a distinct set of characters with real feelings. The dramatic context is also projected in the arias - the only ensembles are duets at the start and end and a final chorus for all the surviving characters. All of the roles are well taken and it would be invidious to mention them individually, although the three female singers are particularly good, especially Renata Pokupi? as a courtier in love with the woman with whom the King has himself fallen in love. All of the singers reserve decorations for the da capos, leaving the first time round as the composer wrote them. This is much to be preferred to the alternatives of either omitting decorations altogether, which is dull, or decorating both times, in which case the listener is never able to distinguish which is by the composer and which by the singer. The decorations are well considered and for the most part the singers manage to avoid making them sound too obviously rehearsed. The orchestra, on period instruments, play with great panache under Christian Curnyn without indulging in the sort of exaggeration which some recent recordings of Handel operas seem to find necessary. The recording is clear if somewhat unatmospheric.
In the end it is the work itself that most impressed me. I had not heard it before, but I was wholly transfixed by it. Perhaps its relative brevity, and that of many of the arias, attracted me, together with a more interesting plot than most (albeit equally complex). Each of the three Acts has a distinct character, starting with a relatively light First Act, with many arias in triple time, but ending in a Third Act where the characters’ real feelings and difficulties are apparent. The very beautiful and affecting final aria for Guido is in the unusual key of B flat minor. There are composers who seem to gravitate towards remote keys when particularly touched by a situation - Sullivan is a prime example, but I had never thought of Handel in that way - I will look out for it in future. In a really committed performance like this Flavio stands out as one of Handel’s best operas. It should be in the collection of anyone who wants to experience the full range of his operatic creations. Collectors of recordings of his operas will obviously want this set, but it would be an ideal introduction to the riches of these works for anyone previously unconvinced of their merits.
-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International
HANDEL Flavio • Christian Curnyn, cond; Tim Mead ( Flavio ); Rosemary Joshua ( Emilia ); Renata Pokupi? ( Vitige ); Hilary Summers ( Teodata ); Iestyn Davies ( Guido ); Thomas Walker ( Ugone ); Andrew Foster-Williams ( Lotario ); Early Opera Company (period instruments) • CHACONNE 0773 (2 CDs: 146:23 Text and Translation)
Flavio , Handel’s fifth opera for the Royal Academy of Music, had its premiere in 1723. It was only moderately successful, achieving eight performances. One possible reason for this lack of success is the nature of the score itself. The music is written in a lighter vein than the heroic operas Handel had heretofore written for the Royal Academy of Music. Its style harkens back to his Venetian opera Agrippina . The music itself is of high quality, and the opera certainly does not deserve the neglect it has been subjected to over the centuries. Handel revived it only once, in 1732, for four performances, after which it remained unheard until 1967. This is only its second recording.
Christian Curnyn leads a very good performance that does full justice to this neglected work. He paces the work well and is respectful of Handel’s score. Although he occasionally tends to overuse the theorbo, substituting it for harpsichord at times, he is less guilty of this failing that René Jacobs in the competing recording. Da capo ornaments are generally tasteful and idiomatic. The orchestra plays with precision. Handel does not give the orchestra much of a chance to shine; most numbers are accompanied only by strings and continuo, with occasional use of flute or oboe.
The cast is also very good. Rosemary Joshua sings with accuracy and beautiful tone; she is dramatically involved in the role, as are the other members of the cast. Joshua’s performance is preferable to that of Lena Lootens on the Jacobs recording; although Lootens sings reasonably well, her voice has a hollow, white tone to it. Hilary Summers has a rather dark sound for a mezzo-soprano. She is quite good in her role, but she would have made an even better candidate for either of the two castrato roles; her tone is more masculine than either of the two countertenors on this recording. I prefer the more feminine sound of Bernarda Fink on the Jacobs recording. Honors are evenly divided between the Vitige of Renata Pokupi? here and Christina Högman for Jacobs.
Of the two countertenors, Iestyn Davies, singing Guido, the role written for the star castrato Senesino, is excellent, with an evenly produced voice of great suppleness. I prefer him to Jacobs’ Derek Lee Ragin, whose voice is not as well controlled or as attractive an instrument. In the secondary castrato role of Flavio, Tim Mead and Jeffrey Gall offer performances of equal value. The lesser roles for tenor and bass are capably handled by Thomas Walker and Andrew Foster-Williams.
David Johnson reviewed the René Jacobs recording in Fanfare 14:1. He found it to be a “splendid realization of this little-known Handel opera” but thought the work itself uneven. As usual, Jacobs fiddles with the score. At scene changes, he inserts a few bars of harpsichord improvisation or even orchestral sinfonia (but where the music comes from I’m not sure). His misuse of the lute is far more glaring than anything Curnyn does. But, like Curnyn, Jacobs’s da capo ornaments are mostly tasteful and idiomatic.
For any first-time purchaser of Flavio , I have no hesitation in recommending Curnyn as a first choice. Those who already own Jacobs’ recording need not rush to replace it. Both recordings give a very good account of an unjustly neglected work.
FANFARE: Ron Salemi
Flavio was one of the operas Handel wrote for the Royal Academy of Music’s company at the King’s Theatre on the Haymarket. It has a character all of its own, very different from that of “Giulio Cesare” which followed it in 1724. Although the plot similarly concerns power and sex, these subjects are treated in a wholly different manner. Some commentators have seen it as almost a comedy. Certainly there are moments that might bring a smile to the face of the audience. These include two successive revenge arias for outraged fathers at the start of the second Act. Also one of the main plot devices relates to who is to have the difficult job of Governor of Britain. There is little else that might be seen as comic to anyone other than many modern opera producers.
The plot is too complex to be set out in full, but in essence it concerns the rivalry of two elderly counsellors to the King of Lombardy. It is set in a legendary time when Lombardy ruled Britain. Their children and other courtiers are linked in various ways and the plot is set in motion by the King’s roving eye. The libretto was adapted by Nicola Haym from one by the Venetian Matteo Noris from 1682. Having heard and greatly enjoyed this recording I very much regret not having seen the version recently toured by English Touring Opera as part of their Handel opera series.
Nonetheless although it does not appear to derive from stage performances, the most distinctive aspect of this recording is its strongly theatrical feel. The recitatives in particular are paced and sung with real dramatic flair, and although my limited Italian meant that I needed to follow the text in the booklet there was at all times a feeling of real dramatic interaction. This is no mere concert performance and I felt as though I was watching a live event. Whilst always staying within the appropriate limits of period style (no verismo shouting here) all of the cast project a distinct set of characters with real feelings. The dramatic context is also projected in the arias - the only ensembles are duets at the start and end and a final chorus for all the surviving characters. All of the roles are well taken and it would be invidious to mention them individually, although the three female singers are particularly good, especially Renata Pokupi? as a courtier in love with the woman with whom the King has himself fallen in love. All of the singers reserve decorations for the da capos, leaving the first time round as the composer wrote them. This is much to be preferred to the alternatives of either omitting decorations altogether, which is dull, or decorating both times, in which case the listener is never able to distinguish which is by the composer and which by the singer. The decorations are well considered and for the most part the singers manage to avoid making them sound too obviously rehearsed. The orchestra, on period instruments, play with great panache under Christian Curnyn without indulging in the sort of exaggeration which some recent recordings of Handel operas seem to find necessary. The recording is clear if somewhat unatmospheric.
In the end it is the work itself that most impressed me. I had not heard it before, but I was wholly transfixed by it. Perhaps its relative brevity, and that of many of the arias, attracted me, together with a more interesting plot than most (albeit equally complex). Each of the three Acts has a distinct character, starting with a relatively light First Act, with many arias in triple time, but ending in a Third Act where the characters’ real feelings and difficulties are apparent. The very beautiful and affecting final aria for Guido is in the unusual key of B flat minor. There are composers who seem to gravitate towards remote keys when particularly touched by a situation - Sullivan is a prime example, but I had never thought of Handel in that way - I will look out for it in future. In a really committed performance like this Flavio stands out as one of Handel’s best operas. It should be in the collection of anyone who wants to experience the full range of his operatic creations. Collectors of recordings of his operas will obviously want this set, but it would be an ideal introduction to the riches of these works for anyone previously unconvinced of their merits.
-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International
