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SaleBeethoven, R. Schumann, Saint-Saëns: Symphonies for Piano Duo vol. 2 / Uys & Schoeman
SOMM Recordings · Apr 2022CD$20.99$15.99 -
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Mendelssohn: Violin Concerto & String Octet / Ferschtman, Bakels, Het Gerlders Orkest
Challenge Classics · Mar 2017SACD$20.99 -
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Various: White Nights - Viola Music from Saint Petersburg / Masurenko, Ishay
Profil · Nov 2021CD$24.99 -
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Dvorak: Cypresses - Song Cycle & String Quartet / Ullmann, Bruns
Haenssler Classic · Sep 2012CD$24.99 -
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Straus: Der Tapfere Soldat (The Chocolate Soldier) / Kohler, Kranzle, Dickie, Stein, Borst, WDR
Capriccio · Jan 2012CD$22.99 -
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Kalabis: Symphonies, Concertos / Kosler, Neumann, Kalabis, Belohlavek
Supraphon · Feb 2013CD$47.99 -
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SINGLES COLLECTION VOL. 2 1947-60
OTIS BLUE: OTIS REDDING SINGS SOUL
COZY YOU (AND OTHER NICE SONGS)
Beethoven, R. Schumann, Saint-Saëns: Symphonies for Piano Duo vol. 2 / Uys & Schoeman
SOMM Recordings is delighted to announce the eagerly-awaited second volume of the Tessa Uys and Ben Schoeman Piano Duo’s ground-breaking series exploring Franz Xaver Scharwenka’s transcriptions of Beethoven Symphonies. A composer of no mean stature in his own right, Scharwenka’s transcriptions were once widely admired, his treatments of Beethoven’s symphonies a high-watermark of the genre. Volume 1 (SOMMCD 0637) met with universal acclaim; Gramophone praising the “mastery” of the performances, BBC Music finding it “utterly beguiling” and MusicWeb International declaring “I was blown away by this magnificent recording”. Volume 2 features the first recording of Scharwenka’s transcription of Beethoven’s iconic Fifth Symphony for piano duet. Claiming a direct connection to Beethoven via his teacher Franz Kullak, who had studied with Beethoven’s pupil Carl Czerny, Scharwenka provides a virtuosic re-imagining of the Fifth’s tremendous scale, organic growth and seething energy. The Variations on a Theme of Beethoven by Saint-Saëns show him, Robert Matthew-Walker says in his informative booklet notes, “at his most brilliant and searching... beautiful, imposing and elegant, as well as humorous”. Robert Schumann’s Andante and Variations in B-flat reveal Romanticism’s quintessential musical poet at his most emotionally acute: “overhung with a pervading sense of intimacy, the music unfolds as a series of reflections upon the Andante theme, refracted in genuine variation styles of tempo, rhythm, tonalities (beautifully implied) and character”.
Review
Hot on the heels of the first volume of this enterprising series comes volume 2, this time including what is perhaps the most famous symphony of all time, Beethoven’s 5th, here given its world premiere recording in the transcription for piano duet by Franz Xavier Scharwenka.
As with the previous volume and the “Eroica” (see my earlier review here), the 5th needs no introduction or apologies and Scharwenka expects both pianists to be virtuosi. The opening chords are surprisingly not written for double octaves as might have been expected; Scharwenka saves those for later on when even more firepower is required. Again, throughout this transcription, multiple solutions are offered to deal with the problem of arranging a work for full orchestra for piano and all is superbly realised by the duo. The opening tempo for the first movement is perhaps a little slower than expected at the start but that is more than made up for later as both pianists flamboyantly navigate the complex writing. Also, as before, the notation is subtly arranged to make it playable on two pianos and this has the added bonus of making some detail clearer than in the orchestral version.
The second movement comes across very well too – all the details are present and presented via the medium of twenty fingers. The contrasts are beautifully pointed out: a sense of calm serenity pervades this music and the pianists respond excellently to the challenge. The rippling accompaniment starting at 2:39 - but also occurring elsewhere - is cleverly written and perfectly judged. There some surprises here too; harmonies are clarified and details that perhaps would normally be lost are brought to the fore. Both pianists make a superb job of this movement and it contains just as much drama as a performance for full orchestra. The fortissimo sections make an excellent contrast to the nervier and quieter moments and the ending of the movement, with its defiant chords, is splendid.
The Scherzo follows with its weird march like chords and repeated loud interruptions, all of which are again played with aplomb. The crazy scrambling section from about two minutes onwards sounds just perfect and the cunning interjections by the second pianist (I presume) that ultimately derail this trail of music are wittily done. The build up to the cheerful, blazing finale is excellently judged and that final ‘Allegro’ part starts with a bang, with bagfuls of virtuosity from both participants and continues in the same vein. There are lots of powerful tremolandos here, judiciously used and all of which add to the drama. The build up to the quieter section at about five minutes is excellently controlled and sounds absolutely right. The ending where Beethoven applies the brakes to the music before restarting again with renewed vigour is miraculously realised – listen out for the notes originally on the flutes in the last two minutes sounding almost woodwind-like but on a piano. The ending with sustained loud and powerful virtuosity from both performers is just brilliant. This is an awesome performance of a magnificent transcription; comparisons with Liszt’s transcription (S464 no.5) are perhaps inevitable but here Scharwenka has the advantage of using twice as many fingers so the overall effect is somewhat “fuller” than Liszt’s absolutely astounding and craftily realised version. This is another example of such a skilful transcription that you almost forget that the original was for full orchestra. I’ve run out of superlatives here, but suffice it to say that this performance is absolutely top notch and the joyfulness and intelligence of the performers and the committed nature of the playing make it absolutely worth hearing.
I should say that the Beethoven transcription is for piano four hands and played on a rather splendid sounding Fazoli piano whereas the remainder of the disc is played on two Steinway model Ds. There is little difference in the recording level or sounding between the instruments and I am more than happy to listen to either.
In a well-thought-through contrast to the blazing conclusion of the Beethoven transcription, Schumann’s rarely heard variations published as Op.46b follows next on this disc. This work exists in two versions – it was originally written for two pianos, two cellos and a horn but following a suggestion from Mendelssohn, Schumann later revised for just two pianos as heard here. These open quietly with a rather lovely slightly melancholy tune that receives a whole gamut of variation from beautifully quiet and reflective ones (heard at the outset of the piece) to bouncy march like ones (as at 4’50’’) and all points in between. As with the preceding Beethoven, the playing throughout is very intelligent and the two pianists react well to each other’s playing, producing a result full of musicality. The slower variations are deeply affecting and the quasi-funeral march one at about six minutes is especially good; the way it segues into the following faintly sad variation is perfectly handled. Schumann was, as usual, channelling his inner Florestan and Eusebius in the composition of this work but there is perhaps a slight preference for the latter, as overall the work has a dreamy and melancholy mood. Surprisingly, towards the end of the piece, Schumann brings back the opening theme completely unadorned, and uses it to generate a suitably fitting conclusion to this wonderful piece. I have to say that prior to hearing this recording I was only dimly aware of this work but on repeated listening, I have really grown to appreciate its many wonderful turns of phrase and clever writing.
The disc concludes with Saint-Saëns’ epic variations on a theme by Beethoven. As I have said before, this is a work that I have previously had issues with; I have no idea why but it just doesn’t strike me as the composers’ best work and it has always seemed a little laboured. However...I am now much fonder of the piece. The opening is mysterious and only hints at the theme which he uses (from the Trio of the Scherzo from Beethoven’s E flat Op.31 no. 3 Sonata – sometimes nicknamed “The Hunt”) but once the theme emerges, it is subjected to ten contrasted variations including a complex, virtuosic fugue. The opening variation is a scurrying, “catch me if you can” treatment of the theme in scales and is here played very fast, with plenty of wit and character. The following variation is a complete contrast: a rather lovely lyrical treatment of the theme with some clever darker episodes and throughout some nice examples of the pianists bouncing off one another to create a spontaneous atmosphere. Thirdly, a strange inverted version of the theme; again, the Scherzo like character here is abundantly obvious and the playing is excellent. Variation 4 is extremely entertaining: bouncy repeated chords and much interaction between the pianists who again spark well off each other. Variation 5 is again a change of pace and the difference from the previous one is very marked. Here, trills and some very pretty playing join to make a splendid little creation with plenty of harmonic invention and humour. We return to scales for the following variation, with some added arpeggios for good measure. I particularly like the way the ends of phrases are rounded off here – this is a most astute and intelligent performance. I especially enjoyed the mock funeral march that is variation 7; this is just weird in comparison to the other, more conventional variations here - the playing is almost hysterical with grief and matches the mood of this variation perfectly. As the work progresses into variation 8, it becomes more and more difficult to follow the progress of the variations but we have a restatement of the spectral opening that gradually evolves to the complex fugue that is variation 9. This is the core of the work and is perhaps the composer’s reaction to Beethoven’s Eroica variations (Op.35). Here, there are plenty of notes for both performers to negotiate and they do so with the same high level of virtuosity and commitment that they display throughout this disc. This is such a witty take on the theme and to my ears the way that the textures are handled hints at the Scharwenka transcription from earlier in the disc and thus fits in very well here. This variation leads directly into variation 10, the conclusion of the work and featuring the tune neatly divided between the two performers who give a sparkling performance. Right at the very end, the theme emerges almost unadorned as if to remind us how far the music has travelled during the progress of this marvellous work.
As I said for volume 1, this is a magnificent recording; the sound quality is superb, the cover notes are excellent and the playing is exemplary throughout. Full marks to all concerned; I am once again waiting impatiently for the next volume.
--MusicWeb International (Jonathan Welsh)
Mendelssohn: Violin Concerto & String Octet / Ferschtman, Bakels, Het Gerlders Orkest
"...slowly, as my musical path kept unfolding, I got to the point where more and more I was able to let go of my preconceived notions aout the Violin Concerto and more clearly start to see and hear my own voice in it. Over the years I got to know so much more music by Mendelssohn, from the inside out, and I felt the language become more fully my own. When working with Kees Bakels on it a couple of years ago things started to really fall into place, and last May when performing it with the Amhem Philharmonic I really was all of a sudden struck by a distinct feeling that I can only describe as falling in love all over again with this magical piece. Certain details in the score seemed to appear completely new to me and the idea of approaching the work with the same collaborative energy as in chamber music made me experience it completely afresh. The combination of passion, grand emotions and at the same time lightness and elegance, such characteristic traits for Mendelssohn, fell completely into place. To feel this way about such a familiar piece was revelatory and I knew I wanted to share these discoveries, if you like, with many more people." (Liza Ferschtman)
Bach: Complete Concertos For Solo Harpsichord / Elizabeth Farr
BACH Concertos for Solo Harpsichord: BWV 972-93, 975-76, 978, 980 (after Vivaldi); 974 (after A. Marcello); 979 (after Torrelli); 981 (after B. Marcello); 977, 983, 986, 985 (after Telemann); 982, 984, 987 (after Ernst). Prelude and Fugue in a, BWV 894 • Elizabeth Farr (hpd) • NAXOS 8572006-07 (2 CDs: 150:35)
This recording hit me like a ton of bricks in three ways. First, there is the music itself, not actually by J.S. Bach but rather transcriptions he made for harpsichord of concertos by Vivaldi, Torelli, Alessandro and Benedetto Marcello, Johann Ernst, Telemann, and unknown composers, in addition to his own Prelude and Fugue in A Minor. Second, there is the extraordinarily high quality of Elizabeth Farr’s performances, dramatic, nuanced, and extraordinarily colorful. And third, there is the sound of the instrument, a rare Baroque-era harpsichord with a 16’ set of strings as well as damper and sustain pedals. When this CD first started pouring out of my speakers, I thought I was listening to Wanda Landowska in digital stereo. It turns out that such fabulous beasts did exist, after all, in the Baroque era, in fact from as far back as the 16th century. Well, well, well. It turns out that Landowska, who has been lambasted for more than half a century for her “grotesque,” “gargantuan-sounding” instruments, was on the right track after all. Not having an authentic instrument to play, she simply had Pleyel create one for her. Granted, it had a grand piano frame because she was a touring musician and even a newly minted harpsichord with 16’ strings would have gotten pummeled on trains, but the sound was not that far removed from this.
Farr is also an interesting annotator. In order to save space I refer you to her liner notes, which explain why Bach transcribed 22 concertos by primarily Italian composers for harpsichord (six of them are for two harpsichords). The key to the project was young Prince Johann Ernst, the nephew of Duke Wilhelm, who in fact composed three of the concertos transcribed here. The young prince, an outstanding musician, wanted them to play on his instrument. Bach was willing to oblige for one particular reason: By writing out these concertos he could study their composing methods, and apply what he learned to his own “Italianate” music.
Farr’s playing is in the style of Leonhardt and Kipnis, using a great deal of rubato—some of it obvious, some of it quite subtle—to break up the very regular rhythms. I love this style. It is antithetical to British harpsichordists like Trevor Pinnock (whom I also highly admire), but very much in line with the type of “hesitating” style that Bach himself later employed in so many solo harpsichord works, a style he undoubtedly picked up from his friend and older colleague Buxtehude. She also plays very dramatically—heavy chording and rich textures when emulating the full tutti of the orchestral passages, lighter and airier in slow movements and when emulating solo passages. This took me some getting used to, but I came to enjoy this approach.
Some listeners may feel cheated that only one work (the Prelude and Fugue) is actually by Bach, but as a compendium of Baroque style transcribed by a musical genius, played to perfection and stunningly recorded, this set is very highly recommended.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Bach For Mandolin And Guitar / Dorina Frati, Piera Dadomo
BACH Sonata in a, BWV 1020. Little Preludes: Excerpts. Partita No. 2 in d, BWV 1004: Chaconne. Italian Concerto, BWV 971 . Sonata No. 1 in g, BWV 1001: Presto. Sonata No. 1 in C, BWV 1033 • Dorina Frati (man); Piera Dadomo (gtr) • DYNAMIC 514 (74:09)
This is a lovely disc. The combination of mandolin and guitar brings a sparkling vivacity to the faster movements and a delicate charm to the slower ones. The mandolin is not able to sustain long melodies and so must fall back on tremolos to prolong the notes: it can’t compete with the flute or the violin’s abilities in this regard. However, if the listener accepts this limitation, the music is still well served. The silvery sound of the mandolin contrasts nicely with the more resonant guitar: imagine a harpsichord’s lute stop but with added piquancy in the upper register. Bach’s works have probably been transcribed for more instruments and ensembles than any other composer’s, and they fare well here. And of course, one doesn’t have to look too far to justify transcription, as Bach was so fond of it himself. The musicians also perform as soloists. Piera Dadomo’s Chaconne may be less forceful than some, but I found its gentle, intimate approach most persuasive: it’s an alternate view of a familiar masterpiece. Dorina Frati plays the Presto with engaging virtuosity, and left me eager to hear more solo Bach on the mandolin. There’s often a festive quality to this recording, joyful and spontaneous, and I found it a pleasing alternative to the original versions.
Just in case you haven’t memorized all the BWV numbers, 1020 and 1033 are for flute and harpsichord, 1001 is for the violin, as is the famous Chaconne from 1004, and the Italian Concerto is a perennial favorite with harpsichordists and pianists. Seven of the Little Preludes are included, short but “expressive little masterpieces” (Forkel). If you think you would enjoy hearing Bach expertly played by this musical duo, then don’t have any qualms about acquiring this CD.
FANFARE: Robert Schulslaper
EARLY YEARS: COMPLETE MOTOWN RELEASES 1960-62
Jonathan Dove: The Passing Of The Year
This will turn out to be, I am sure, one of my favorite recordings of 2012. I first came upon Jonathan Dove’s music on a Hyperion recording of his sacred music, featuring the Wells Cathedral Choir, conducted by Matthew Owens (2010). Over the last year I have occasionally returned to that CD, each time coming away more impressed by Dove’s writing. This new CD has only confirmed and strengthened that impression.
The recording opens with The Passing of the Year, a song-cycle written for double chorus and piano, dedicated in memory of Dove’s mother. The work, which is made up of seven movements divided into three main sections, takes the listener literally and metaphorically through changing seasons. Thankfully, Naxos does not follow its increasingly common practice of making the listener go to its website to search out the texts though they can be found here. Listening with the poetry at hand only increased my admiration for Dove’s sensitive text setting.
The work opens with Invocation, the voices repeatedly singing “O Earth, return!” with an ever increasing intensity. This leads into an extended setting of William Blake’s The narrow bud opens her beauties to the sun, that features contrasting textures of soloist versus choir and high versus low voice to convey the idea of “Summer breaking forth.” The third movement sets Emily Dickinson’s Answer July as a call and response between female and male voices that perfectly captures the playfulness of the text. Movement 4 begins the second section begins with Hot Sun, cool fire, a setting of words by George Peele that uses slowly shifting dissonant chords to evoke how difficult it can be to breathe, let alone move, on a brutally hot summer day. The cycle’s emotional climax is found in Movement 6, a setting of Thomas Nashe’s Adieu! Farewell earth’s bliss. Over an ostinato that bares a passing resemblance to the final minutes of Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms, one of the choirs intones “Lord, have mercy on us,” as the other choir sings, in achingly beautiful harmonies, about the inevitability of death.
Three times these competing choral textures break off so that all voices can join together in singing “I am sick, I must die”. Even after listening several times, Dove’s setting leaves me shaken. The sadness of that movement is effectively dispelled by the final Ring out, wild bells, a passage from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s In Memoriam that speaks of the promises found in the beginning of a New Year.
The rest of the program is just as impressive as the Song Cycle, and displays a greater variety of musical styles, including a solo for mezzo-soprano (My love is mine), three songs for upper voice/women’s choir (It sounded as if the streets were running). The CD is rounded out with Advent and Christmas music, including The Three Kings, written for Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at King’s College, Cambridge.
Dove’s music is impressive, with attractive melodies and tonal harmonic writing. Nevertheless, he is not afraid to use dissonance when it more strongly projects and expresses the text, and his writing displays a particularly strong skill in creating onomatopoeic effects. When I began my listening, I thought it would be helpful to note where Dove’s writing seemed reminiscent of other composers’ work. Sometimes the piano writing, which often uses ostinato figures, reminds me of the minimalists Steven Reich and John Adams. A few of Dove’s melodies soar in a way that recalls Samuel Barber. Answer July brings thoughts of Benjamin Britten’s “Ballad of the Green Broom” from Five Flower Songs. I share these comments not to suggest that Dove is in any way a derivative composer, but rather to express how highly I rate his work. Dove is very much his own man, with masterly word setting that reminds me most strongly of Benjamin Britten and, on this side of the Atlantic, Libby Larsen.
Dove receives the strongest advocacy from his performers. The Convivium Singers, under the assured direction of Neil Ferris, display admirable control of the long line and excellent intonation. I find the balance to be a bit dominated by the women’s voices, and would not have minded a few more men in each section. But the balance never detracted from my immense enjoyment of this recording. Accompanist Christopher Cromar’s playing is splendid, self-effacing virtuosity that serves the choir and the music.
I urge you to purchase this CD as quickly as possible. It is gorgeous and poignant music, performed with wholehearted fervor by an excellent choir, all at budget price.
– David A. McConnell, MusicWeb International
Various: White Nights - Viola Music from Saint Petersburg / Masurenko, Ishay
Jan Van Gilse: Symphony No. 3 / Porcelijn, Netherlands Symphony Orchestra
GILSE Symphony No. 3, “Elevation” • David Porcelijn, cond; Aile Asszonyi (sop); Netherlands SO • CPO 777518 (63:02 Text and Translation)
This is only my second encounter with the music of Jan van Gilse (1881–1944). His First and Second symphonies, recorded by these same forces and reviewed by James H. North in Fanfare 32:2, didn’t leave me with a lasting impression of the composer’s musical profile, so in requesting this release of his Third Symphony, I thought I’d give Gilse another shot.
Though he was Dutch by birth, Gilse was the product of German training, one of his teachers having been Humperdinck. Upon completing his studies, he secured conducting appointments in Bremen and Munich, but after the outbreak of World War I, he returned to the Netherlands, where he led the Utrecht Municipal Orchestra from 1917 to 1922. Apparently, his tenure was a stormy one in which a vitriolic dispute between Gilse and composer and critic Willem Pijper eventually led to Gilse’s resignation and the penning of a 350,000-word autobiography in which he heaped scorn on the heads of all those who had made his life in Utrecht miserable.
But Gilse was not all bitterness and payback. During the Second World War, he and his two sons joined the resistance movement against the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands. His life, however, ended in tragedy, as he saw both sons killed by German troops and then succumbed himself, probably to pneumonia, soon after, not living long enough to see the war’s end.
Gilse completed his Third Symphony in 1907 while still in Bremen, including in its third and fifth movements a part for soprano soloist. Unfortunately, the English translation of John Smit’s album note by Susan Marie Praeder gives no explanation for the work’s title, “Elevation” ( Erhebung in its German publication), or its connection, if any, to the score’s verses.
The third-movement text appears to be a free verse poem by Gilse himself, dedicated in gratitude to Dina Mollinger-Hooijer, wife of the director of the Netherlands National Insurance Company. The love poem, which makes no attempt to hide its erotically charged imagery, leads one to read between the lines as to the reason for Gilse’s gratitude.
The fifth-movement text draws three stanzas from the equally suggestive erotic poetry of Solomon’s Song of Songs , though the particular verses Gilse selects don’t contain some of the text’s more explicit references.
If Gilse’s Second Symphony hints at Strauss, Elgar, and perhaps a touch of Mahler, as North noted in his review of that earlier work, the opening slow movement to his Third Symphony is almost pure Wagner in Tristan und Isolde mode; one waits for the face of the famous Liebestod to emerge at any moment from the granite slab Gilse is chiseling.
The second movement tosses us right into the middle of Strauss’s Don Juan . There are moments of resemblance so close they border on plagiarism.
For the third movement, we’re back to Wagner. Without benefit of a score, I can’t be sure, but on one of the soprano’s climactic notes at 3:43, Gilse’s underlying harmony sounds darn close to Wagner’s augmented ninth “Tristan” chord.
Improbable as it may seem, the fourth movement opens with what sounds like a pre-echo of Ravel’s La Valse , and then we’re back to part Richard Strauss and part parody of the waltzing Strausses.
The fifth and final movement, at almost 22 minutes in length, dwarfs all the others. Here’s the Elgar North mentioned that’s been missing up to this point. What a gorgeous ceremonial opening. Though it lacks the same striding gait, the music recalls to no small degree the magnificent processional that leads off Elgar’s First Symphony. Patience is advised, for the soprano doesn’t make her first entrance until the movement is more than half over. When she finally does, it’s Isolde’s soliloquy leading up to the final Liebestod.
Clearly, Gilse’s score is largely derivative and, as North put it, “pure high Romanticism.” But that’s exactly what should appeal about it to those who love to laze in luxuriant orchestral scores. Gilse may not have had an original idea in his head for this symphony—I can’t speak to any of his later works or to his opera, Thijl , reputedly his crowning achievement—but he demonstrates a sure hand when it comes to the craft of orchestration and of weaving a colorful, vibrant musical tapestry. Gilse’s Third Symphony displays the talent of a composer who could write wonderfully effective music, even if it was someone else’s.
As usual, CPO’s recording is up to the highest industry standards, and David Porcelijn, who has been delivering the goods for the label’s Röntgen project, here leads the Netherlands Symphony Orchestra in what seems to be a perfectly paced performance. Estonian soprano Aile Asszonyi, who has a high-lying, lighter-than-usual, but exceptionally focused voice, beams right in on the notes with laser-like precision. Gilse’s writing, which exploits the voice’s upper range, seems ideally suited to Asszonyi, and she repays the composer with beautifully sung performances in the two vocal movements.
If you love the music of Wagner and Strauss with a serving of Elgar on the side, you are guaranteed to enjoy this CD.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL AN ERA: ALBUMS 1980-1984
IMITATING THE HUMAN VOICE
Dvorak: Cypresses - Song Cycle & String Quartet / Ullmann, Bruns
DVORÁK Cypresses: 18 Songs for Voices and Piano (original version, 1865 1 ). Cypresses: 12 Songs for String Quartet (from original version, arr. Dvorák 2 ). Cypresses: 6 Songs for String Quartet (from original version, arr. Hans-Peter Dott 2 ) • 1 Marcus Ullmann (ten); 1 Martin Bruns (bar); 1 Andreas Frese (pn); 2 Bennewitz Qrt • HÄNSSLER 98641 (2 CDs: 81:05 Text and Translation)
Let me begin with just one swipe at Hänssler Classic, a label whose marketing practices I’ve questioned before. This entire program could fit onto a single CD. Discs of over 80 minutes, once rare, are now fairly common. A saving grace, however, is that as of now, mid-October 2012, ArkivMusic is selling the two-disc set for $26.99, which places it in the mid-price category on a per-disc basis. Hänssler is to be commended, however, for coming up with the idea of presenting Dvorák’s Cypresses complete in its original scoring as a song cycle for voices and piano, plus in its partial arrangement of 12 of the 18 songs for string quartet by the composer himself, and, in addition, in arrangements of the remaining six songs for string quartet by German composer Hans-Peter Dott (b. 1952). If anyone has done this before, it’s not reflected in any of the current listings I found. In fact, Dvorak’s string quartet arrangements far outnumber recordings of the song cycle.
Details of the song cycle’s path from composition to publication still remain a bit sketchy and open to some dispute. This much is known: Dvorák set the songs down on paper in 17 days between the 10th and 27th of July 1865. The 24-year-old composer was lovesick over one of his young pupils who didn’t share his feelings. So, like Mozart, Dvorák ended up settling for the girl’s younger sister, whom he eventually married. It’s hardly surprising then that the texts of the songs, taken from Cypresses: A Collection of Lyric and Epic Poems by Gustav Pfleger-Moravský, tell of unrequited love. Also generally agreed upon is that Dvorák intended eight of the songs—Nos. 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 13, 14, and 15—to be sung by a tenor, while the remaining 10 songs—Nos. 3, 4, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 16, 17, and 18—were intended to be taken by a baritone, which is the way they’re divvied up on the disc.
But here’s where things get a bit dicey. It took Dvorák another 23 years, during which he arranged, rearranged, and otherwise tinkered with the songs, before he sent them to Simrock for publication in 1888 with the title, not Cypresses , but Love Songs , to which the opus number 83 was assigned. Yet a 2012 program note from the Chamber Music Society of Williamsburg unequivocally states that “Dvorák chose never to publish the songs in their original form, but material from several of the songs cropped up in his first two symphonies and in his operas and other vocal works.” Clearly, the songs were published in 1888, but I’m guessing that the discrepancy hinges on the words “in their original form,” for according to the imslp.org catalog of Dvorák’s complete works, the songs that were actually published were all third and fourth revisions of the originals. Meanwhile, a year earlier the composer selected 12 of the songs—Nos. 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 14, 16, 17, and 18— and began reworking them for string quartet, keeping close to the original models. He made only some minor rhythmic adjustments, and only in one case did he change the key. He did, however, reorder the pieces in a different sequence from the original song cycle—6, 3, 2, 8, 12, 7, 9, 14, 4, 16, 17, 18—and titled his collection of quartet arrangements Echo of Songs . These were not published, however, until 1921, 17 years after Dvorák’s death.
This brings up another misunderstanding that has been perpetuated regarding Dvorák’s titling of both the published song cycle and the string quartet arrangements that remained unpublished in his lifetime. All Music Guide states that it was the composer himself who named the song cycle Cypresses , but as noted above, he didn’t. He titled it Love Songs . And as for the composer’s quartet arrangements of 12 of the songs, he called them, again as noted above, Echo of Songs . The only Cypresses Dvorák was familiar with, other than the trees, was the collection of poems so titled by Pfleger-Moravský. The Cypresses title was conferred upon the string quartet arrangements—and then only retroactively and by association with the songs—by the publisher of the string quartet cycle, Hudební matice umrlecké besedy, and/or the cycle’s editor, composer Josef Suk. Hans-Peter Dott surmises there are reasons Dvorák omitted the six songs—1, 5, 10, 11, 13, and 15—from his own quartet arrangements, but Dott doesn’t tells us what those reasons might have been. Instead, he decided to arrange them himself anyway, and they’re included as the last six tracks on disc 2, after Dvorák’s 12.
So, there you have it: the complete song cycle, published in 1888 as Love Songs , Dvorák’s own string quartet arrangements he titled Echo of Song , published in 1921, and a recent arrangement by Dott of the remaining six songs—all on a two-disc set boldly titled “Cypresses,” with a stand of cypress trees pictured on the cover, a title Dvorák never gave to any of these pieces. I’m not sure he’d be amused. For millennia, the cypress tree has been associated with death and mourning—which is why it’s often found planted around cemeteries—not with the pain of rejected love, the subject of these songs. The music can be quite lovely, if a bit overly sentimental, but the singers and players exercise care not to succumb to some of its more self-pitying moments. While tenor Marcus Ullmann and baritone Martin Bruns deliver their respective songs with warmth of feeling and a good measure of tonal bloom, their voices are of a similarity of timbre and character that sometimes makes it difficult to distinguish which singer is performing which song without referring to the designated numbers in the notes.
When it comes to the string quartet arrangements, at least of the 12 made by the composer, there’s a good deal more in the way of competition, among which is a very fine reading by the Emerson Quartet. But not being familiar with every recording of the quartet versions listed, I can’t say whether any ensemble has previously included the additional six arrangements made by Dott, and Hänssler’s album note is not forthcoming on when Dott made them. If it was very recently, perhaps even for the Bennewitz Quartet and this recording, then this could be a first.
Neither the songs nor the quartet arrangements of them represent Dvorák at his best. One might even say that musically they are Dvorák before he blossomed into the Dvorák we know and love. All of the pieces are of sameness in tempo and mood, without much in the way of Dvorák’s later melodic inspiration or harmonic inventiveness to make any one of them particularly memorable. For that, of course, the singers and players are not to blame. So, recommended on the grounds that this may be the most complete recording of Dvorák’s “cypress”-based compositions collected together in a single set.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL AN ERA: ALBUMS 1980-1984
LITTLE GIRL BLUE
Keiser: Fredegunda / Hammer, Munich Neue Hofkapelle
There is a real danger, especially in Handel’s anniversary year, that he and other major composers such as Bach and Telemann eclipse their talented contemporaries completely. Yet the Leipzig Council, for example, cannot have been entirely bone-headed in preferring Fasch and Graupner to Bach for the post of Kantor at the Thomasschule. The story that they thought Bach ‘mediocre’ is, however, based on a misunderstanding.
CPO have also recorded his secular cantatas (CPO999 8562 – ‘a lovely disc’: see review) and his version of the Christmas story is coupled with Graupner’s Magnificat on ‘a splendid festive offering from Carus – albeit short value at forty five minutes’: Carus 83.417 – see review). Keiser was also the first composer to set the Brockes Passion, a text later employed by Fasch (recorded by Naxos on 8.570326 – see review), Telemann and Handel; perhaps Naxos will now record that, too.
There are two recordings of his St Mark Passion: the older Claves recording of his St Mark Passion is available from eMusic, albeit on 50 tracks, which will mean blowing your whole monthly £12 allocation in one go. The single-CD Christophorus recording on original instruments is, in any case, the one to go for, (CHR77143 – Parthenia Vocal and Parthenia Baroque/Christian Brembeck); it’s also available from classicsonline as a very acceptable 320k download. Bach certainly possessed a copy of this work and there are points of similarity with his St Matthew and St John settings, including the traditional tune of O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden – compare Keiser’s setting of Wenn ich einmal soll scheiden (track 5) with Bach’s. I’m sure that I shall be listening to it on future occasions.
Like those other two operas, Fredegunda (March, 1715) was composed for the Hamburg Oper am Gänsemarkt, or Goose-market Opera, where it was extremely popular, four years after Crœsus. The libretto is by Johann Ulrich von König (1688-1744) after an Italian libretto by Francesco Silvani (c.1660-c.1725). It is sung in German and Italian. The plot concerns the tempestuous relations between the sixth-century Frankish King Chilperich and his mistress Fredegunda; each of them has another lover, making for two sets of love triangles though all, of course, ends happily.
As usual, I set out first to test the claims made in the blurb on the rear insert, that this is ‘an important and entertaining ... opera [which] abounds in melodious, often ravishingly orchestrated, music.’ More crucially, do the performances do justice to the music?
Certainly the music is very attractive – listen to track 28 of CD1 Ricordati, ben mio (‘Remember, o my beloved’) for some of the finest baroque music – though the opera has its moments of longueur and there is no doubt that posterity has been correct in preferring Telemann and Handel. If you have already become familiar with their music, however, Fredegunda is well worth trying.
The opening Sonata goes with a real swing in this performance; there’s no stodginess here, but rather the kind of abandon at the start which I associate with modern Italian performances of baroque music. On the other hand, there’s enough contrast between the sections to avoid the problem of having everything too hurried, which I recently found with Collegium Musicum den Haag’s performance of Telemann’s Ebb und Fluth (L’Europe réunie, ORF SACD3008).
Dora Pavlíková as Fredegunda begins her opening recitative in fiery mood, too: at first she sounds almost too fiery to hit the notes securely, but soon settles down, especially in the aria Du verlachtest die Tränen (‘you mocked my tears’, CD1, track 3). After all, Fredegunda is a fiery character and she is chiding Chilperich for preferring Galsuinde – she opens the recitative by referring to him as Grausamer, ‘awful man’, and ends the ensuing aria by referring to his undoing their relationship mit deiner falschen Hand ‘with your faithless hand’.
Tomi Wendt’s Chilperich comes over as penny plain to Pavlíková’s twopenny coloured Fredegunda – I might have preferred him to be a little more sonorous and her a little less squally, but, again, this is not inappropriate to their roles – Chilperich is something of a wimp at this stage. By the time that we come to Fredegunda’s arias on tracks 20, (Ihr reizende Blicke, ‘your ravishing looks’) and 22, (Schließet euch, ihr holde Kerzen, ‘be extinguished, dearest candles’) Pavlíková is in much more mellifluous voice and Wendt’s Chilperich much firmer-toned. By track 24 (Zur Rache! ‘Revenge!’) both the character and Wendt’s voice have come much more to life.
The first notable aria is Galsuinde’s Lasciami piangere, ‘let me weep’ (CD1, track 7), and Bianca Koch sings it well. I might have preferred her to bring out its beauty a little more lovingly; it is, of course, a lament, but laments don’t have to be entirely squally. Galsuinde has some of the finest music – and the aria Ricordati, ben mio (CD1, tr.28), to which I have already referred as some of the finest baroque music, is sung by Koch in a manner which could hardly be bettered.
Michael Kranebitter as Sigibert, too, sings attractively, if a little too forthrightly: in his recitative Ich kann ja wohl die Zähren nicht verdammen (‘I cannot condemn the tears’, track8) he almost seems to have two different registers, one more attractive than the other. His diction is not exactly ideal: so keen is he to bring out the drama of his words that he sometimes fails to enunciate them perfectly. His aria Ich muß schweigend von dir gehen (‘I must be silent and leave you’, track 16) did not affect me as it should – here, more than anywhere, I felt that he was the weakest link in the cast, though not as disastrously so as Elisabeth Scholl, who is really off-form in Naxos’s recording of Handel’s Semele – don’t just take my word for it in my review; see also Robert Hugill’s review.
Katja Stuber as Bazina also has an attractive voice; in her first scene (track 9), however, she is slightly out-sung by Tomo Matsubara as Hermenegild. His voice has an attractive timbre, though his diction, too, is not perfect – he is not a native German-speaker. His aria Eine stolze Hand zu küssen (tr.11) illustrates both the attractiveness of his voice and his comparative failures of enunciation. If Stuber is a little reticent here, she is certainly in fine and powerful voice by track 30, giving Fredegunda as good as she gets in Du drohest and rasest (You threaten and rave). By this point, too, Kranebitter’s Sigibert has also warmed up somewhat; though I still found him a little too droopy in Ach betrachte doch die Wangen (tr.35 ‘Just look upon her cheeks’), his account of Mich schrecket kein Eifer, ich achte kein Drohen (tr.37, ‘Your overbearing threats do not frighten me’) is just right.
Tobias Haaks as Landerich is perhaps a little too forthright in the recitatives but he sings Ach, ich will viel lieber sterben (tr. 44, ‘Ah, I would much rather die’) in such a way as to make it one of the highlights of the first CD, almost at its close. If, as I suspect, the Chilperich-Fredegunda duet Vieni, o cara, o mio Tesoro (tr.48, ‘Come, my dear, my treasure’) which closes CD1, is meant to outshine Landerich – the few arias in Italian are some of the highlights of the music – it doesn’t succeed here: their singing sounds merely very decent by comparison, though they round off the act and the disc stylishly enough.
Matters are much the same on CD2, which begins quietly with the duet of Galsuinde and Bazina, Sanfte Lüfte (‘Gentle breezes’). There is some intrusive stage noise here – much than on CD1 – and in the ensuing scene. Bazina’s aria Ein Sklav’ ist mehr beglückt (tr.3, ‘a slave has greater fortune’) is a little underpowered. If Kranebitter is the weak link on CD1, he atones somewhat in Sigibert’s duet with Galsuinde (tr.5), though he is still a little too lugubrious and Koch’s Galsuinde still a little shrill.
Pavlíková’s Fredegunda, too, is just a little too shrill for my taste in Vieni a me (tr.7, ‘Come to me’) by contrast with the delicate accompaniment. It may be wishful thinking on my part, but she does seem to tone down the shrillness for the repeat of this aria (tr.11).
Wendt’s Childerich is in much better voice than he was on the earlier part of CD1. His aria threatening to react with slaughter of his foes, Con le stragi (tr.13) goes with quite a bang, as does Haaks in Landerich’s Da voi fieri guerrieri (tr.15, ‘Your beauteous eyes, proud warriors’). Both these Italian arias are among the high points of the opera, and both receive good performances.
Fredegunda’s invocation of Hecate (tr.17) is another high spot and here Pavlíková is in almost ideal voice despite some unusually intrusive stage noise. Yet she is able to achieve real tenderness a few moments after this outburst in Ach, nenne mich doch nur noch einmal Königin (tr.19, ‘Oh, let me just once more be called the queen’).
Matsubara really manages to convey Hermenegild’s indecision (tr.21, Ach nein, ich kann nicht entscheiden, ‘Ah. No, I cannot decide’) and does so with fewer problems of diction than before. Paradoxically, Kranebitter’s diction in Su’l mio crine (tr.23, ‘I shall be crowned with love’) is less than ideal.
Wendt, in Childerich’s aria bidding fortune do its worst, Weich immerhin zurück (tr.25) is affective, though not entirely tonally secure. Koch is equally affective and in better voice in Felice moriró (tr.30 ‘I shall die happy’). The whole opera is rounded off by a suitably jubilant performance of the short fifth act.
This, then, is not a ‘Sunday-best’ cast but it is a good, often very good, workaday one. It’s certainly good enough for me to predict that I shall return to it – and I shall follow with interest the careers of these singers, mostly still in their twenties.
Christoph Hammer’s direction is secure; his own solo keyboard performances have clearly prepared him well to lead the Munich Neue Hofkapelle. Though founded in 1992 to specialise in historically informed performances, their playing offers baroque music without any of the excesses which sometimes spoiled period performances in earlier days and still sometimes intrude where one least expects it – on Jordi Savall’s rather strident, but still enjoyable, version of Biber’s Missa Bruxellensis (AV9808) for example. Some of the accompaniment here is really sensitive, as in the case of Fredegunda’s aria Vieni a me (‘Come to me’, CD2, tr.7).
Apart from some very minimal stage noise and applause at the end of each CD, there is little to indicate that the recording was made live. That it was so helps in part to explain why some of the singers are a little slow off the mark at the beginning – in a studio performance, of course, there could have been retakes to round off some of the slightly rough edges. The recording itself is neutral in the best sense of the word.
The libretto, mostly in German but with sections in Italian, is available online as a pdf document but in portrait A4 – how do you get that into the CD case? – and there is no English translation, which is a problem, since even those with a decent knowledge of German may find the sometimes archaic diction hard to follow. It would be much better to offer the libretto as a download in landscape mode at a size capable of being cut, folded and inserted into the case – Naxos, please learn from Chandos, Gimell and Linn, who offer texts and notes in this manner with their downloads. Actually, it is possible to cut and paste the text into a Word document and print this in the correct format, but it is a nuisance to have to do so.
I would gladly have forfeited the booklet’s four-and-a-half pages of illustrations of the parent production, from the Bayerischer Theaterakademie August Everding, in favour of the libretto. These illustrations make me grateful to have received this recording on CD rather than DVD, since they show the production to have been the kind of up-dated version which I almost inevitably find annoying – featuring, in this case, a baby carriage and, apparently, the use of a taser.
-- Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International
Schutz: Cantiones Sacrae / Rademann, Dresdner Kammerchor
SCHÜTZ Cantiones Sacrae , Op. 4 • Hans-Christoph Rademann, cond; Dresdn C Ch • CARUS 83.252 (2 CDs: 108: 31 Text and Translation)
The fifth issue in Rademann’s projected complete works of Heinrich Schütz, this publication of 1625 has already been recorded complete three times. Rudolf Mauersberger used a large choir of men and boys with instrumental ensemble; the Eterna recording was once available on Telefunken LPs but, in a Berlin Classics set of 10 CDs of Schütz’s music, never came for review. Manfred Cordes ( Fanfare 20:5) got a rave review for rendering one voice to a part, unaccompanied except for motets that required continuo. Matteo Messori (30:5) also used one voice to a part with organ continuo throughout. The new version has a vocal ensemble of 18 with continuo.
One might wonder why this collection of Latin-texted motets, written over a period of years (some of them were certainly sung for the Emperor Matthias when he visited Dresden in 1617) is not heard as often as the German-texted Geistliche Chor-Musik of 1648, which has been recorded complete 10 times. In a very informative note here, Oliver Geisler shows that Carl von Winterfeld (1834), Philipp Spitta (1894), Joachim Moser (1936), and most recently Clytus Gottwald have singled out the treasures that are to be discovered here, beginning long before the revival of interest in the greatest German composer of the 17th century. The last-named lamented that 20th-century church music has been modeled on the 1648 book instead of this expressionist music that would have led composers in more adventurous directions. It would seem that the music is more admired than loved. Rademann sets out to make it loved.
To read Cordes’s notes is to imagine that, foreseeing this new recording, he was arguing against it in his insistence on one voice to a part without the “rigid sound” of the organ, but his real reference was to Mauersberger’s pioneering set. Rademann shows how light and flexible his singers can sound in this madrigalian music, and the continuo is so discreet as to fade out of hearing. (Indeed, I cannot hear it at all in at least one piece, “Dulcissime et benignissime Christe.”) I find the two versions equally appealing, appreciating the one I am hearing before switching to the other equally impressive performance. My head tells me that Cordes argues persuasively, but my heart tells me that the warmth of Rademann’s multiple voices is unarguable. These Scriptural texts in Latin are not madrigals, after all.
At least six conductors have assembled partial collections of this music to fit a single disc. The largest was two LPs under Helmut Rilling, both issued here on Musical Heritage Society, probably a projected complete set that was never finished. The most recent, a full CD by Erik van Nevel (15:5), was commendable when the only complete set was Mauersberger’s, but van Nevel never made the rest of the book. It should be noted that I referred in that review to “41 motets;” the correct count is 40, since “Pater noster” is printed twice as the secunda pars of two motets. If you have not discovered the marvels of this book, I urge you to hear Rademann. He promises to give us a commendable complete works.
FANFARE: J. F. Weber
Franck: Complete Organ Works / Hans-Eberhard Roß
FRANCK COMPLETE ORGAN WORKS • Hans-Eberhard Roß (org) • AUDITE 21413 (6 CDs: 411:46)
When it comes to the organ, I think it’s safe to say that César Franck is the most important composer since Bach, and here we have a survey of Franck’s organ music so complete that it would take an entire page to list the entire contents of these six discs in standard Fanfare headnote format. In fact, there’s not another collection in existence this complete—not Jean Guillou’s, Marie-Claire Alain’s, Anthony Newman’s, or anyone else’s—since whole discs full of items here are flagged as being premiere recordings, premiere recordings for organ, premiere complete recordings, or premiere complete recordings for organ. So, I have decided to describe the set’s contents on a disc-by-disc basis. Let me forewarn the reader, though, that this is a release dedicated to the doggedly determined among lovers of organ music in general and Franck’s organ music in particular.
Organist Hans-Eberhard Roß performs all 142 pieces on a single instrument, the Goll organ at St. Martin’s Church in Memmingen, Germany. I haven’t been able to find any detailed information on the organ builder, but the enclosed booklet gives the following specifications for the organ: built in 1998, it has four manuals plus pedal, controlling 62 registers. The recordings were made between 2004 and 2005 and were originally released in three two-disc sets in SACD. The boxed-up, six-disc set that came to me for review was on standard, two-channel CDs.
One criticism I will lodge about the presentation is this: the track listings for every piece give the date it was composed, the date it was published, and which of nine editions Roß uses. This last bit of information about the editions may be of interest to the musicologist or scholar studying Franck’s organ works, but more interesting to the general listener, I think, would have been a concordance of stops and registrations used for each piece, something I’ve seen in the notes to other organ recordings, and something that ought, I think, to be material to an undertaking of this seriousness.
Disc 1 starts off with a first-time recording of Pièce en mi bémol ; i.e., Piece in E?. Of course, you’d have to listen to it to know if it was major or minor, but I’ll save you the effort. It’s more or less both, opening with a chord progression that eerily anticipates the ear-curling pronouncement at the beginning of Poulenc’s Organ Concerto. This is followed by another early work, Pièce pour Grand Orgue . It’s not asterisked as a premiere recording but is nonetheless absent from current listings except for this version. Several more early works fill the first disc, all dating from between 1854 and 1856. There are five pieces by Franck originally written for harmonium and transcribed for organ by Louis Vierne, and this is their first time on record. Also a first on record is a first version of a Fantaisie in C Major. Its second version, apparently not a first on record, is also included on the disc. Roß, himself, has transcribed the harmonium piece, Quasi Marcia , op. 22, and plays it here for the first time on organ.
If it’s mainly a CD of Franck’s big organ hits you want, you would be happy with just disc 2. They’re all there in one place: the Fantaisie in C Major, op. 16, the Grand Pièce Symphonique , op. 17, the Prélude, Fugue, et Variation , op. 18, the Pastorale , op. 19, Prière , op. 20, and Final, op. 21.
Disc 3 contains no fewer than 39 short pieces collected under the heading of Posthumous Pieces for Harmonium or Organ with Pedal for L’Office Ordinaire . This spills over onto disc 4, which contains another seven pieces that are part of the same collection. The fourth disc is then filled out by Three Pieces for Grand Organ , a Petit Offertoire , and an Untitled piece, that last two of which were both originally for harmonium. The entire contents of discs 3 and 4, with the exception of the Three Pieces for Grand Organ , are flagged with three asterisks (***), referencing the fact that they are heard here for the first time complete on organ.
Disc 5 and almost all of disc 6 are occupied by Franck’s answer to Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier , the sets of Pieces for Organ or Harmonium. The number seven must have held some mystical significance for Franck because there are nine sets of these pieces, each containing seven numbers, beginning with 7 Pieces in C Major and C Minor , progressing to 7 Pieces in D?-Major and C?-Minor , then to 7 Pieces in D Major and D Minor , which he subtitles, Pour le temps de Noël , and so on. The cycle stops after the 7 Pieces in A?-Major and G?-Minor , leaving the keys of A, B?, and B unexplored. There’s nothing mysterious or supernatural about the reason; Franck died before he was able to finish the project. The entirety of the Pieces for Organ or Harmonium is also thrice asterisked, meaning this is its first complete recording on organ. The final disc in the set concludes with the 3 Chorales for Grand Organ.
At first, I was a bit skeptical of how Franck’s organ music would sound on a modern, German-built instrument. It’s difficult to disassociate these works from the Cavaillé-Coll organs that inspired them. Much of this music, in fact, was composed during Franck’s tenure as organist and maître de chapelle at Sainte-Clotilde between 1858 and 1872. Of the three-manual plus pedal Cavaillé-Coll organ installed in the church, Franck is quoted as saying, “If you only knew how I love this instrument . . . it is so supple beneath my fingers and so obedient to all my thoughts.”
Concluding the 63-page booklet note by Martin Weyer (translated by Viola Scheffel) is a lengthy apologia in defense of playing these works on a Goll organ. The author twists himself in knots talking about the historical period-instrument movement and then tries to turn the argument on its head by explaining why this modern Goll instrument is an appropriate substitute for a Cavaillé-Coll organ and Franck’s music. “Upon hearing the instrument,” Weyer contends, “one will discover a lot of similarities to the sort of instrument that Franck found inspiring.” One could counter that many an organist has recorded Franck’s organ works on authentic Cavaillé-Coll instruments, and that if organist Hans-Eberhard Roß had betaken himself to France to make these recordings, he could have done likewise. But, as far as I’m concerned, the point is irrelevant. Roß is a consummately accomplished player who uses the richly variegated palette of the Goll organ to paint Franck’s pieces in an amazing array of tonal color combinations both bright and subtle, and the acoustic of Memmingen’s St. Martin church, perfectly captured by Audite’s engineers, is ideal. Franck and Cavaillé-Coll are nodding their heads in approval.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Songs Of Muriel Herbert / Tynan, Gilchrist, Norris
? Muriel Herbert (1897 ? 1984) studied with Charles Stanford and Roger Quilter at the Royal College of Music, London. Her works consist mainly of songs inspired by poetry and works for violin and piano. This album focuses on her songs.
? Herbert was inspired by the poetry of many including Yeats and Joyce whom she met on many occasions. She was also intrigued by female poets such as Christina Rossetti. These songs have been brought back to life thanks to Herbert's daughter - the biographer Claire Tomalin. The songs are now all housed at the British Library Archive.
? The songs are hugely compelling and delightful and influences of one Herbert's favourite composers Debussy can be heard. Many of these songs are premiere recordings. Among the most popular are: Daffodils, Mirage, Autumn, Lost nightingale and Hips and haws.
? James Gilchristis in demand as a recitalist and chorus member and is a regular voice on BBC Radio 3 and a popular performer at the BBC Proms. He has sung at venues across Europe, America and the UK. His voice has been described as pure and sensitive with an even and beautiful tone. His first two solo albums on Linn Records were very well received; BBC Music Magazine listed ?Oh Fair To See? as a Benchmark Recording, and ?On Wenlock Edge? was a finalist in the Solo Vocal Album category at the 2008 Classic FM Gramophone Awards.
? In 2003 Ailish Tynan won the Rosenblatt Recital Prize at the BBC Cardiff Singer of the World Competition. Other awards include the Maggie Teyte Competition, Miriam Licette Award and the RTÉ Millennium Singer of the Future.
? David Owen Norris has been a featured artist in the Gilmore Festival in Michigan and in the English Music Festival in Dorchester. In 2008 he has given recitals from Edinburgh to Guernsey, including the City of London Festival, the Tate Gallery conference on Vauxhall Gardens, the Three Choirs Festival and Cheltenham.
Track Listing:
1. Loveliest of Trees 2. I cannot lose thee for a day 3. The Crimson Rose 4. I hear an army charging 5. Jour des Morts (Cimetière Montparnasse) 6. She weeps over Rahoon 7. On a Time 8. Have you seen but a white lily grow? 9. I dare not ask a kiss 10. Horsemen 11. To Daffodils 12. How beautiful is night 13. Renouncement 14. I think on thee in the night 15. Faint Heart in a Railway Train 16. Rose kissed me today 17. Lean out of the window 18. Love?s Secret 19. MS. of Benedictbeuern (Carmina Burana) 20. Autumn 21. The Lost Nightingale 22. Jenny kiss?d me 23. Children?s Song 1: Merry-go-round 24. Children?s Song 2: The Gypsies 25. Children?s Song 3: The Tadpole 26. Children?s Song 4: Jack Spratt 27. Children?s Song 5: Acorn and Willow 28. Children?s Song 6: The Bunny 29. In the Days of November (Hips and haws) 30. The Lake Isle of Innisfree 31. David?s Lament for Jonathan 32. Most Holy Night 33. When Death to either shall come 34. Cradle Song 35. Violets 36. Tewkesbury Road Reviews: 04 May 2009 The Observer Fiona Maddocks Your heart doesn't necessarily leap when a scholar announces the discovery of four dozen baroque flute sonatas by someone with a name like Vaporetto. Legions of neglected composers await rediscovery. But on rare occasions, the "lost" talent is real, the pleasure of stumbling across a new body of work exciting and lasting. This is so with Muriel Herbert (1897-1984), brought back to life in this collection of her art songs and performed here by a superb trio of musicians. Their commitment alone endorses the music's quality. Herbert studied music in an era when professional women composers were rare as woodlarks, yet every genteel young woman was expected to play and sing. Born in Sheffield to a musical family, she grew up, in straitened circumstances, in Liverpool, winning a scholarship to the Royal College of Music during the First World War. There she met the great composers of the day - Charles Stanford and the homosexual Roger Quilter, with whom, to no avail, she fell in love. Preferring to work on a small scale, she started writing the elegant songs which would become her main preoccupations. She had some early success. After the war, she lived a bohemian existence, associating with James Joyce and WB Yeats, composing, teaching at a girls' school and singing. But a bad marriage and a pram in the hallway put paid to the bigger career she might have enjoyed. Now her daughter, writer Claire Tomalin, has gathered a collection of her mother's often melancholy songs. She chose texts from a cross-section of poets: AE Housman's "Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now", Hardy's "Faint Heart in a Railway Carriage" (here retitled "Faint Heart in a Railway Train") and Yeats's "The Lake Isle of Innisfree". Piano accompaniments are poignant and skilfully played by David Owen Norris. Ailish Tynan and James Gilchrist sing with open-hearted commitment. I hope the pair incorporate many of these works into their recitals. Steeped in the English song tradition of the early 20th century, they grow on you with each listening. 14 April 2009 Musical Pointers Peter Grahame Woolf You just might have noted Muriel Emily Herbert's name in passing if you'd chanced upon Music Web's 2002 survey Some Women Composers - "Muriel Herbert's titles included Violets, Fountain Court, The Lake Isle of Innisfree, Contentment, Have You Seen But a White Lily Grow? and the familiar Housman words Loveliest of Trees: clearly her taste in lyrics was above the average." That is all... She had studied with Stanford at the Royal College of Music. A few of her songs were published in the '20s and James Joyce thought her settings of his poems were "much too good for the words"! With motherhood, and at a time of disinterest in women composers, her musical career faded into oblivion. This collection of mostly unpublished songs from the '20s and '30's is a treasure trove, re-discovered by her daughter, noted biographer Claire Tomalin, who had packed away all her papers upon Muriel Herbert's death in 1984; no-one was interested in them - ?Everyone's mother wrote songs...' she was told (mine included !). But a little interest surfaced later, first in a radio programme by a former pupil who had been taught by her when he was a boy soprano and who eventually produced this disc... This wonderful CD is the eventual outcome. It is not just Muriel Herbert's taste in poetry that was exceptional; so was her unselfconscious ease in prosody, the setting of words to music, which made me think of Hugo Wolf's. This has been an altogether happy project, with both Ailish Tynan and James Gilchrist in fine voice, supported ideally by David Owen Norris. These are honest songs that should find a welcome in anyone's recital. There is emotion which never becomes mawkish, and wit a-plenty. I greatly regret not having been able to come across Herbert's Children's Songs to Ada Harrison poems when I was trawling the publishers and libraries for repertoire for my boy singer son Simon; they are just as good as Malcolm Williamson's A Child's Garden which he recorded. You can access on Linn's website full information including sound samples of all the songs, two of the shortest Children's Songs, Merry-Go-Round and The Bunny complete. The songs are now archived at the British Library.
AFTER YOU'VE GONE 1944-45
Straus: Der Tapfere Soldat (The Chocolate Soldier) / Kohler, Kranzle, Dickie, Stein, Borst, WDR
STRAUS Der Tapfere Soldat • Siegfried Köhler, cond; Caroline Stein ( Nadina ); Johannes Martin Kränzie ( Bumerli ); Martina Borst ( Mascha ); John Dickie ( Alexius ); Gertraud Wagner ( Aurelia ); Helmut Berger ( Popoff ); WDR RO; Händel Collegium Köln • CAPRICCIO C5089 (2 CDs: 88:06)
The irascible playwright and man of letters George Bernard Shaw seems to have had a gift for producing stories that were ripe for adaption as light musical comedy. Shaw did not live to see his Pygmalion turned by Lerner and Loewe into the megahit My Fair Lady and make superstars of Rex Harrison, Julie Andrews, and Audrey Hepburn. The British pundit (and one-time opera critic) was front and center, however, as his little antiwar drama Arms and the Man was turned by Oscar Straus and his Viennese librettists into the operetta Der Tapfere Soldat (The Valiant Soldier) and became an international hit. In fact, Shaw worried about his satirical play being turned into bad musical comedy. He agreed to let the story be used only if (1) none of his dialog or character names were used, (2) the operetta were to be advertised as a parody of his work, and (3) no remuneration was to be made. Never widely popular in the pre-World War I Germanic countries where soldiers were heroes and the military a revered institution, Der Tapfere Soldat went on to become a smash hit in New York in 1909 as the more aptly titled Chocolate Soldier , and then one year later scored another triumph right under Shaw’s nose in London. The old man publicly denigrated Straus’s popular operetta but lived to regret his lack of share in its box-office success.
The story involves a likeable young soldier in the Bulgarian army who, to avoid the fierce raging battle outside, climbs up the drainpipe and into the home of a mother, daughter, and another young friend, whose menfolk are also off at the war (actually, he drops right into the daughter’s bedroom). When threatened by his own gun by daughter Nadina, the soldier, Bumerli, laughs and tells her his cartridge case is full of chocolates; he has no bullets for his weapon. In spite of his not being the type of romantic hero she has been dreaming of, Nadina falls for her little chocolate soldier, as do the two other women. They hide him when soldiers come searching and provide him civilian clothes to aid his escape. Trouble comes when Nadina’s father and fiancé return with the regiment. Bumerli also turns up, ostensibly to return the clothes, but he is in love with Nadina. Outrage and hurt feelings ensue, but Alexius, Nadina’s intended, shows a marked preference for the young friend, Mascha. The typical operetta muddle is eventually sorted out and the parents are made happy when it turns out the chocolate soldier is the son of a wealthy Swiss businessman. So much for true love.
Straus wrote many catchy melodies for the early Viennese silver-age work, the most famous of which is Nadina’s solo “Komm, komm, Held meiner Traume” (Come, Come, Hero of My Dreams). Also popular was the humorous duet between the two leads, “Ach, du kleiner Praliné-Soldat” (Ah, You Little Praline Soldier). This recording was made for WDR radio in Cologne in 1993 and features clear, pure-voiced, light soprano Caroline Stein in the lead role of Nadina. She sings very well both alone and in ensemble and is much the best singer on the recording. Baritone Johannes Martin Kränzie sings Bumerli in a pleasant voice but has a noticeable wobble when he pushes his upper range. He blends in well in the ensembles, of which there are many in this light work. The second romantic couple of tenor John Dickie and mezzo Martina Borst sing well in this style of music, as do Mom and Dad, contralto Gertraud Wagner and bass-baritone Helmut Berger.
As far as I am aware, this is the only recording of Der Tapfere Soldat in German. The Ohio Light Opera Company recorded it in English in the late ’90s on the Newport label, where it is still available. A 1958 recording of highlights in English on RCA features much the best voices led by mezzo Risë Stevens and baritone Robert Merrill. That recording is out of print but can be obtained as a facsimile CD-R from ArkivMusic. Capriccio sadly does not provide a libretto, but there is a more than adequate synopsis and some brief bios. If, like me, you want these operettas in their original language, this is the one to buy. It will provide you an hour and a half of very enjoyable, frothy light music. Recommended.
FANFARE: Bill White
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Oscar Straus (note the spelling of Straus – only one ‘s’ at its end) was born in Vienna on 6 March 1870 but was not related to the famous Strauss dynasty.
He began his career emulating the satirical Offenbach, with Die Lustigen Nibelungen (The Merry Nibelungs). Richard Traubner in his excellent book, Operetta, A Theatrical History, suggests that it was “too musically advanced for Viennese ears” and national-socialist pro-Wagnerians were not amused. Those who relish the idea of lampooning of The Ring might like to know that Capriccio have a one-CD Köln recording of Oscar Straus’s The Merry Nibelungs again conducted by Köhler (C5088). Noticing the great success of Lehár’s The Merry Widow, in 1905, Straus decided to capitulate to public taste and entered the comfortable dream world of sentimental Viennese operetta with his smash success - in Austria and Germany if not in America and England - of Ein Waltztraum (A Waltz Dream) of 1907.
Straus’s The Chocolate Soldier (German title: Der tapfere Soldat or Der Praliné-Soldat) followed in 1908. It was based on George Bernard Shaw's 1894 play, Arms and the Man and the libretto was by Rudolf Bernaur and Leopold Jacobson. G.B. himself was not at all keen on such an adaptation of his play which had been successful in its Viennese run and only accepted the situation provided that Straus’s operetta was promoted as an unauthorized parody of his play and that he received no royalties for it. A bad mistake - because the show was a big hit in London and New York - but not quite so in Europe because of political sensitivities surrounding the Balkans where the action of the story was set. Later, Shaw tried to recoup some of his financial losses when M-G-M approached him for the film rights for The Chocolate Soldier. Louis B. Mayer refused Shaw’s exorbitant demands and the film went ahead with a mix of Straus’s and other’s music but to a different plot based on Ferenc Molnár's play Testor . The 1941 film starred Nelson Eddy and Risë Stevens – although Jeanette MacDonald had originally been pencilled in to star with Eddy.
There’s a very good Wikipedia article on Straus’s The Chocolate Soldier that also details all the songs. Briefly the story is set in Bulgaria in 1885 during the war between Serbia and Bulgaria. Nadina, her friend Mascha and her mother are missing their menfolk away at the hostilities. Suddenly a soldier, handsome and charming bursts into her bedroom. He is Bumerli, a Swiss mercenary serving in the Serbian army. He is an ordinary soldier quite unlike her supposedly heroic fiancée Alexius. Bumerli carries chocolates in his pouch instead of ammunition! His charm captivates the ladies and as Act I closes all three are smitten. They all give him photographs of themselves inscribed with loving messages. He puts all three in his great coat and promptly forgets them. But he cannot forget Nadina. Six months later he returns for her but the three photographs are produced. Jealousy flare up between Nadina and Mascha, Bumerli is thought to be fickle and faithless and comic complications ensue. All is happily resolved at the end.
The big hit of the show is the well-known and popular waltz song, ‘Komm, komm, Held meiner Träum’ (‘Come, come hero of my dreams’). Here it is sung most beguilingly by sweet-voiced Caroline Stein as Nadina. She is singing about her Alexius in Act I, her fiancée and imagined hero, who turns out to be nothing of the kind. The lower tenor timbre of Kränzle makes Bumerli sound just that little bit too mature for Nadina. However the charm of their duet ‘Weill’s Leben suss und herzlich ist’ (‘Because life is sweet and beautiful’) cannot be diminished. Much of the music comprises ensemble writing - quartets, quintets, and sextets and soloists with choir. The Act I ensemble song with comic material for the soldiers searching for Bumerli and an interpolated stirring patriotic song lustily sung by Nadina is a highlight – so, too, is the following charming waltz-song trio for Nadina, Mascha and Aurelia They sing ‘Tiralala’ as all besotted, they dream of their Chocolate soldier. This number has some lovely orchestral felicities in the strings and woodwinds. Kränzle’s wistful Act II song ‘If one can, as one wants’ has an introduction that echoes the ‘Tiralala’. Kränzle has another charming if argumentative duet ‘Es war einmal ein Fräulein’ (‘There was once a maiden’) with Nadina before Act II’s exuberant finale closes with a ringing reprise of the big number, ‘Komm, komm, Held meiner Träum’ (‘Come, come hero of my dreams’). Conductor, Köhler consistently delivers telling sentimental and witty accompaniments to all the numbers. Mention should be made of the delicious irony of the orchestral accompaniments to the waspish numbers of Act II like the bickering between Nadina and Bumerli in ‘Pardon, pardon pardon! Ich steig ja nur auf den Balkon’ (Pardon, I rise only on the balcony)
A charming recording of a delightful operetta.
Ian Lace, MusicWeb International
Masters of Jazz, Vol. 11
This compilation features Billie Holiday singing many classic standards including Strange Fruit, Lover Man, The Man I Love, All of Me, I Loves You Porgy, I Love My Man, Them There Eyes and Do Nothing ‘Til You Hear From Me. Her musicians on these sessions, recorded between 1944-1951 include Roy Eldridge, Hot Lips Page, Coleman Hawkins, Jack Teagarden, Art Tatum, Teddy Wilson, Jimmy Rowles, Oscar Pettiford and “Big” Sid Catlett.
Kalabis: Symphonies, Concertos / Kosler, Neumann, Kalabis, Belohlavek
The second disc opens with the Concerto for Large Orchestra, commissioned by Karel An?erl for the Czech Philharmonic and composed in 1965–66, which begins with one of Kalabis’s fiercest dissonances, but it’s one of those dense agglomerates which suggests resolution and, sure enough, an arching violin line emerges and purifies the air and, almost before we know it, we’re off on another of Kalabis’s white-knuckle allegro s; Kalabis described the middle movement as a “tragic meditation”; and the freewheeling Finale has something of the ferocious energy of the last movement of Karl Amadeus Hartmann’s Sixth Symphony, though Kalabis pauses for air rather more often. In contrast to the four-movement Second, the Third Symphony is in three movements, another of Kabalis’s galloping allegro s bookended by two uneasy essays, predominantly but not always slow and, as ever, with Kalabis, powered even at moderate tempos by the sense that there’s energy in plenty waiting to be given its head. Volume 2 ends with Kalabis’s Trumpet Concerto of 1973. R?ži?ková, who provides the booklet notes for the set, explains that, exceptionally, Kalabis was allowed to accompany her on a tour of France that year and, in a little town in Provence, he was given a statuette of the town crier, whose adventures the music depicts (hence the title, “Le Tambour de Villevieille”). Cast in two movements and 18 minutes long, it moves as easily as the other works here from knockabout vigor to anxious inaction. The drums that are occasionally heard in the first movement are, briefly, more prominent in the second and sound as if they are about to set up a tattoo but the music then sets off in a different direction. I find this work slightly less personal than the other pieces on offer here, but Kalabis’s craftsmanship is as evident here as elsewhere, and there aren’t so many good trumpet concertos in the world that trumpeters can afford to ignore this one.
Kalabis’s Harpsichord Concerto, composed in 1974–75 (no prizes for guessing who the dedicatee and first performer was), has something of the buoyancy of the Poulenc Concert champêtre and the angularity of neo-Classical Stravinsky—but far more of a sense of onward drive than either composer; indeed, it’s in the driving rhythms of the Finale that Kalabis comes closest to Martin? though, unsettlingly, it then subsides into anguished silence. R?ži?ková complained to her husband, only half-joking, that “You have let me die”; but the times in which it was written, he responded, did not permit another ending. Martin? was tangentially involved in the birth of the work, as R?ži?ková relates in her notes. She was performing the Martin? Concerto in Switzerland and the conductor asked if by chance she had heard of a Czech composer called Viktor Kalabis; much laughter ensued, and a commission soon after that. But don’t expect some maudlin love-letter: Kalabis obviously wanted to show the world what she could do, and the solo part is a demanding one; the piece is almost half-an-hour in length, too, which must make it one of the world’s longer harpsichord concertos. The second work on the third, all-concerto, disc is the Second Violin Concerto of 1977–78, performed by the much-missed Josef Suk, with whom R?ži?ková formed a duo in 1963, so it is good to see him represented here and find him in stellar form. Just over a quarter-hour in length, it’s in a single movement, as are the 22-minute Concerto for Piano and Winds (1985) and the 12-and-a-half-minute Concertino for Bassoon and Winds (1983)—the most explicitly Stravinskian works in this collection. All three are tightly argued, the first two earnest and generally grave in manner, with the Concertino exploiting the capacity of the bassoon to suggest boisterous and slightly preposterous good humor, though there are also a number of passages of almost hieratic starkness.
The performances throughout make the case for the music as convincingly as you could ask. The recordings were made between 1968 and 1991 and have come up well. A few slips from the soloist in the Trumpet Concerto suggested it might be a live recording, a suspicion confirmed by the subsequent applause; a cough and the occasional noise serve the same function in the Bassoon Concertino.
Altogether, this is an excellent survey of some of the major works of one of the major voices of recent times. Taken together with the MSR box (if you do not know the Fourth Symphony, you should not let yourself live in ignorance of it much longer), it should help Kalabis’s name before a Western public, even if it’s largely the small part of it that buys recordings. Bit by bit, one hopes, some of Kalabis’s oeuvre might begin to appear in concert, where audiences will cheer it to the rafters. In the meantime, I urge you to acquire this box and do some hollering at home."
FANFARE: Martin Anderson
Grigory Ginzburg Early Recordings, Vol. 2: Chopin, Weber & Schumann
GRIGORY GINZBURG: His Early Recordings • Grigory Ginzburg (pn) • APR 5667 (Volume 1; 77:29); 5672 (Volume 2; 78:34); mono
Volume 1: BEETHOVEN/RUBINSTEIN Turkish March. LISZT Hungarian Rhapsodies : Nos. 10, 11. Les Cloches de Genève. Paganini Etudes: Nos. 3, 4, 5 . Venezia e Napoli. Rigoletto Paraphrase. LISZT/BUSONI Fantasia on The Marriage of Figaro. GINZBURG Transcription of Largo al factotum. BALAKIREV Islamey
Volume 2: BACH/BUSONI Toccata and Fugue in d. WEBER Rondo brillante in E?. SCHUMANN Paganini Etudes: Nos. 2, 3, 4. “Abegg” Variations. CHOPIN Impromptus: Nos. 1, 2, 3. Fantasy Impromptu . Polonaise in B?. Polonaise in A?. STRAUSS/GRUNFELD Voices of Spring. STRAUSS/SCHULZ-EVLER Concert Arabesque on The Blue Danube
These have to be among the greatest piano records ever made. Grigory Ginzburg (1904–61) was virtually an exact contemporary of another great Russian pianist, Vladimir Sofronitzky, and while neither was known in the West while alive, Sofronitzky has developed a somewhat wider reputation with the music-loving public than Ginzburg. After listening to these two CDs, and then following up with excellent volumes of live performance recordings on the Vox Aeterna label, it is clear to me that Ginzburg was one of the giants of the keyboard in the 20th century—different from, and at least the equal of, Sofronitzky.
Ginzburg was a student of Alexander Goldenweiser, one of the most significant of the Russian teachers of the first half of the 20th century. His early death prevented him from touring outside of Russia, because most of that happened after 1961. Some of his contemporaries, like Lev Oborin, lived into the 1970s and appeared in America and Europe. Gilels was born in 1916, but lived into the middle 1980s and had a big international career. Soviet artists before 1960 were buried, at least to the rest of us, inside Russia. And since they didn’t concertize in the West, neither did they record for any of the international labels—instead confining their recorded work to Melodiya. As more of this material comes out, we see what treasures were hidden behind the iron curtain. Among all those treasures, Ginzburg stands out.
What makes this piano playing so special? Just about everything. He makes the most difficult music sound easy—whether it is Liszt Paganini Etudes or his own transcription of Figaro’s “Largo al factotum” from The Barber of Seville , nothing seems to actually present any problem to his fingers. Every note is articulated with precisely the right weight and color; everything is in perfect proportion. His sense of balance between the poetic and the virtuosic is unique. He plays with flair and theatricality, but at the same time with a beauty of tone and purity of line that always touches as much as the virtuosity amazes. Even on these recordings, which date from the 1940s and 50s, the beauty of Ginzburg’s tone comes through (especially in Bryan Crimp’s superb transfers), and the remarkable variety of his dynamics is jaw-dropping. There seems to be an infinite number of variants of mezzo-piano , or piano , or forte . Listen to the repeated notes in Liszt’s La Campanella and you’ll be almost physically shocked at the clarity and evenness of the playing. Every single note is in place— completely in place. What is particularly unique about his playing is that he manages to have great fun with the showy elements of this music without a hint of vulgarity. The Liszt Hungarian Rhapsodies can easily be cheapened by over-indulging. Or they lose their character by a pianist taking them too seriously. Ginzburg does neither—all of the fun and flair that you would want is here, but at the same time a deeper beauty that one does not always encounter in this music. And if there is a pianist with a more vocal sense of singing line, of what a true cantabile is, I haven’t encountered him.
After you have heard Ginzburg’s playing on these two discs, which consist entirely of shorter pieces, you might well want to go on to explore the five volumes of live performances released on Vox Aeterna. You can do an artist search at ArkivMusic to find them. Larger works such as Schumann’s Carnaval , Chopin sonatas, and Liszt concerti are available in that series.
I don’t think you can compare Ginzburg to any of the other Soviet-era pianists. He’s not Gilels, he’s not Richter, he’s not Lazar Berman. He is, in fact, Grigory Ginzburg, a pianist who, like any great artist, defines his own territory. We are indebted to APR for making these two discs available, and for the superb quality of the production. In addition to excellent transfers, Bryan Crimp provides illuminating, intelligent notes.
FANFARE: Henry Fogel
