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SaleMozart: Piano Concertos Nos. 7 & 10 / Levin, Ya-Fei Chuang, Academy of Ancient Music
Academy of Ancient Music · Nov 2023CD$26.99$13.49 -
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American Classics - Sousa: Music For Wind Band Vol 7 / Royal Artillery Band
Naxos · Dec 2008CD$19.99 -
Anthology of American Piano Music, Vol. 3: American Landscapes / Licad
Danacord · Nov 2018CD$18.99 -
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SaleHaydn: Symphonies 88, 101 & 104 / McGegan, Philharmonia Baroque
Philharmonia Baroque Productions · Jul 2015CD$19.99$9.99 -
Mozart: Piano Concertos, Vol. 7 / Christian Zacharias, Lausanne Chamber Orchestra
MDG · Oct 2011SACD$24.99 -
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SaleUpon Further Reflection - Copland, Tilson Thomas & Wild / Wilson
Avie Records · Sep 2022CD$19.99$9.99 -
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Tchaikovsky: The Queen Of Spades (Ballet Version) / Lacombe, Orchestre Des Grands Ballets Canadiens De Montreal
Analekta · Aug 2008CD$20.99
Original Tuxedo Junction / Erskine Hawkins And His Orchestra
1. Tuxedo Junction
2. After Hours
3. Tippin' In
4. Rockin' Rollers' Jubilee
5. Weary Blues - (bonus track)
6. Easy Rider
7. Swing Out
8. Big Wig in the Wigwam - (bonus track)
9. Swingin' on Lenox Avenue - (bonus track)
10. Gin Mill Special
11. Cherry
12. Dolomite
13. Song of the Wanderer - (bonus track)
14. Junction Blues
15. Sweet Georgia Brown
16. Five O'Clock Whistle - (bonus track)
17. Soft Winds
18. Nona
19. Blackout
20. Don't Cry Baby
21. Bear Mash Blues
Personnel: Erskine Hawkins (trumpet), Ida James (vocals), Jimmy Mitchelle (alto saxophone, vocals), William Johnson, Bobby Smith (alto saxophones), Julian Dash, Paul Bascomb, Aaron Maxwell (tenor saxophones), Heywood Henry (baritone saxophone, clarinet), Sam Lowe, Wilbur Bascomb, Marcellus Green, James Harris, Charles Jones, Willie Moore, Robert Johnson (trumpets), Edward Sims, Robert Range, Richard Harris, Norman Greene, David James, Donald Cole (trombones), Avery Parrish, Ace Harris (pianos), William McLemore, Leroy Kirkland (guitars), Leemie Stanfield (bass), James Morrison, Edward McConney, Kelly Martin (drums).
Recorded in New York between 1938 and 1942, and Chicago on January 10, 1945. Includes liner notes by Stanley Dance.
Booklet includes a discography and detailed personnel listings.
Personnel: Erskine Hawkins (trumpet).
Recording information: 09/12/1938-01/10/1945.
This is an excellent one-CD sampler of the music of Erskine Hawkins' Orchestra. Although serious collectors will want to get the comprehensive Classics releases, this is a perfect place for more general listeners to begin. Hawkins' three biggest hits ("Tuxedo Junction," "After Hours," and "Tippin' In") lead off the set which otherwise has highlights from 1938-42. With the exception of 1945's "Tippin' In" (which features some memorable lead alto by Bobby Smith), all of Hawkins' key soloists are here, including the leader and Dud Bascomb on trumpets, either Paul Bascomb or Julian Dash on tenor, baritonist Haywood Henry, and pianist Avery Parrish (who made "After Hours" famous). Timeless swing. ~ Scott Yanow
SEE YOU AT THE FAIR (VERVE ACOUSTIC SOUNDS SERIES+
Sondrebo: Cantica Sacra
TIME OUTTAKES
Dvorak: Symphonies Nos. 7 & 8 / Orozco-Estrada, Houston Symphony
Antonin Dvorak’s Symphonies Nos. 7 and 8 are presented here, masterfully performed by the Houston Symphony. Music Director Andres Orozco-Estrada wonderfully interprets these works, exploring a myriad of emotions from tragedy, to quiet reflection, to grandeur and triumph. This recording was made in Houston, TX at the Jess H. Jones Hall for the Performing Arts in April of 2014 (Symphony No. 7) and March of 2015 (Symphony No. 8).
Mozart: Piano Concertos Nos. 7 & 10 / Levin, Ya-Fei Chuang, Academy of Ancient Music
Academy of Ancient Music (AAM) continues an acclaimed project to record Mozart’s complete works for keyboard and orchestra, with this eleventh volume of the series. Renowned pianists Robert Levin and Ya-Fei Chuang join Laurence Cummings and AAM to present Mozart’s Concertos Nos. 7 and 10, the former of which is recorded here in Mozart’s own arrangement for two pianos. Also included is the Concerto Movement for Piano, Violin, and Orchestra, completed by Robert Levin. This hardback CD package is accompanied by comprehensive notes commissioned specially for the album.
Mozart Legendary Interpretations - Robert Casadesus
Though the very brisk finale of No. 21 in C is performed with tremendous bravura and sparkle, Casadesus's style is seldom self-consciously extrovert; he lets Mozart speak for himself. The playing in the slow movements is exquisite; colours are delicately shaded, dynamics subtly handled. The same comment applies to the secondary material of first movements, where Szell's authority is also telling. Concerto No. 22 in E fiat is marvellously played and my own favourite, No. 23 in A, captures that special blend of brilliance and underlying nostalgia that is the hallmark of this work. The Corona/ion (No. 26 in D) and the last concerto (No. 27 in B flat) both bring really memorable performances, in fact among the finest in the catalogue. Altogether this set is an essential purchase for any Mozartian who has not already invested in the separate issues.
-- Gramophone [9/1991]
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The ravishing slow movement of K 467 has never sounded more magical than here...this is exquisite Mozart playing, beautifully paced and articulated.
-- Penguin Guide [2003/2004]
American Classics - Sousa: Music For Wind Band Vol 7 / Royal Artillery Band
SOUSA Music for Wind Band, Vol. 7 • Keith Brion, cond; Martin Hinton (cnt); 1 Royal Artillery Band • NAXOS 8.559247 (57: 26)
America First. The Presidential Polonaise. The Rifle Regiment. Congress Hall. El capitan. Intaglio Waltzes. Golden Jubilee. The Bride Elect. Sounds from the Revivals. 1 The Charlatan. Sheridan’s Ride. The Black Horse Troop. The Naval Reserve
Keith Brion, one of the foremost authorities on the music of Sousa, has been building an extensive library of Sousa’s music for Naxos since 1998, beginning with the first release (“On Stage,” Fanfare 22:1), which first appeared on marco polo in 1997. This is planned to be the most comprehensive collection of Sousa assembled, currently consisting of these seven volumes of wind band music, in addition to an earlier three volumes of Sousa for orchestra. In terms of wind music alone, Brion has so far released 86 works: marches, suites, waltzes, and novelty numbers. The current largest collection is by the Detroit Concert Band, which recorded all 116 published marches on five CDs (Walking Frog 300). The U.S. Marine Band’s set of four CDs, available as “A Box of Sousa” on Altissimo 5571, has 56 works. In terms of performances, the Marine Band is probably my favorite, with the Naxos set a very close second. Both compare favorably with the best single-disc releases, including Junkin with the Dallas Wind Symphony (Reference Recordings 94), Fennell with the Eastman Wind Ensemble (Mercury 434300), Foley with the American Main Street Band (EMI 54130), and Keith Brion with his own New Sousa Band (Delos 102 or Walking Frog 217), which includes seven restorations of recordings conducted by Sousa himself. The relative completeness of the Detroit release recommends it, but the performances often lapse into the routine. Besides, the Naxos set will eventually include 20 additional marches and dozens of concert works.
This seventh volume is as good a place to start as any, as it continues the series pattern of presenting a satisfying mix of the familiar ( El capitan and The Black Horse Troop ) and the unfamiliar ( Congress Hall and The Naval Reserve ), of marches derived from Sousa’s stage works ( El capitan , again, The Bride Elect and The Charlatan ), of Strauss-inspired waltzes ( Intaglio Waltzes ), of historical scenarios à la Wellington’s Victory , complete with battle sounds, racing horse hooves, and cheering ( Sheridan’s Ride ), and novelty numbers like Sounds from the Revivals , an arrangement of late-19th-century hymns which may have been written for Offenbach’s orchestra when they appeared at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition.
James Camner has reviewed three of the earlier releases in the series for Fanfare : Vol. 2, 25:5, Vol. 3, 27:3, and Vol. 4, 28:1. In each he has pointed out the essential rightness of Brion’s performances. I concur. They are not so fast as to make them overbearing or cheaply exciting, but rather taken at a comfortable march tempo that allows the music to unfold naturally. The Royal Artillery Band, formed before the American colonies declared independence, plays with style and verve. Those who have learned their Sousa with (or in) larger concert bands may initially be surprised by the somewhat smaller sound of this ensemble, but in fact, this is the instrumentation that Sousa used in his own touring band. Sousa-lovers will want the whole series. The uncertain risk little, at Naxos’s bargain prices, by diving in here.
FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames
BOOK BERI'AH 1-KETER
Anthology of American Piano Music, Vol. 3: American Landscapes / Licad
Another release in our ongoing series of American Piano Music played by the brilliant pianist, Cecile Licad. This volume, concentrating on music inspired by the American Landscape, features many piano pieces not available in a modern digital recording and is essential to all lovers of piano music. Cecile Licad’s unique natural pianistic talent was recognized early. She began her piano studies at the age of 3 and made her debut as a soloist with the Philharmonic Orchestra of the Philippines in her native Manila at 7. When she was 12 she auditioned for Rudolf Serkin and was admitted to the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia. Ms. Licad’s international career was launched in 1981 after she had been awarded the prestigious Leventritt Gold Medal. Since then, Ms. Licad has appeared throughout the world alongside the finest symphonies and in solo recitals.
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REVIEWS:
It is not hard to find the overt romanticism of Franz Liszt and Joachim Raff in William Mason’s beautiful filigree ‘Silver Spring’ op.6. This was composed around 1850. The liner notes point out that the work is full of ‘delicate bravura figuration and cadenza-like flourishes.’ Mason’s piano music was at the ‘top end’ of the then fashionable salon pieces. It is stunningly played here by Cecile Licad.
Still's A Deserted Plantation utilizes all the devices of jazz and blues. The work is moving and exhilarating at the same time. It is resourcefully played here by Cecile Licad.
– MusicWeb International
This third volume of Cecile Licad’s ‘Anthology of American Piano Music’ is a model of imaginative program-building. On the whole, Licad’s caring and intelligent performances and the savvy program selection by David Dubal and executive producer Thomas Nickelsen augur well for future volumes.
– Gramophone
The Christmas Revels
1. Abbots Bromley Horn Dance
2. Room's Opening Lines
3. Wassail Carol
4. Father Christmas Verse
5. Boar's Head Carol, The
6. Constant Billy
7. Here We Come a-Wassailing
8. Villagers All!
9. There Was a Pig
10. Monk's March, The
11. Dargason
12. Fra Giovanni
13. Holly and the Ivy, The
14. Fool's Verse
15. Lord of the Dance
16. Brass Fanfare
17. Masters in This Hall
18. Shakespeare Lines
19. Nova! Nova!
20. Nativity
21. Alle Psallite Cum Luya
22. Moon Shines Bright, The
23. St. George's Verse
24. Sword Dance Tunes
25. Shortest Day, The
26. Wren Song, The
27. Apple Tree Wassail
28. 12 Days of Christmas, The
29. Fool's Farewell, The
30. Sussex Mummers' Carol
There are Christians who refuse to celebrate the season because of its pagan origins, grounded in Solstice revels. These origins were made abundantly clear when John Langstaff first staged the Christmas Revels in New York City's Town Hall in 1957. The Revels, then, were a celebration of the rebirth of the New Year, but Langstaff added a twist. He would also enfold Christ -- the "Lord of the Dance" -- into his pageant, arguing that His death and rebirth fit perfectly into ancient pagan ritual. This 1978 version of The Christmas Revels offers but one version of the ever-evolving procession, featuring Langstaff as lead baritone on favorites like "The Boar's Head Carol" and "Lord of the Dance." A large cast, performing choral vocals, spoken parts, and instrumentals, brings an energetic dignity to a mixture of traditional songs, dances, ritual, and poetry. While the spoken portions of the Revels probably work better in a live theater experience, its important to remember that the program is meant as a community celebration. While some people will find this music a bit eccentric, the sort of thing one might hear on public radio on Christmas Eve; The Christmas Revels breaks away from yet another version of "Silent Night" and offers a refreshing way to celebrate the season. Pagans of all stripes will also be glad to have a holiday album to call their own. ~ Ronnie D. Lankford, Jr.
Buxtehude: Vocal Music, Vol 2 / Reuter, Munk, Et Al
The four cantatas give us the chance to hear Buxtehude employing a variety of strategies.
Das neugeborne Kindelein sets the four verses of a Christmas hymn first published in 1588 by Cyriacus Schneegass (1546-1597), German hymn-writer, composer and music theorist. The words have a simple radiance, each of the four stanzas made up of four lines rhymed aabb. Buxtehude treats them interestingly; he adopts different approaches for each of the four stanzas. In the first he sets the opening three lines, the initial announcement of the recurrent ‘new’ birth of Christ and its significance, relatively plainly, allowing the words to dominate and hold the attention. Then, as if to celebrate the significance of the words of proclamation, the final line of Schneegass’s first stanza is richly elaborated through repetition and contrapuntal echo. Between each stanza we get an instrumental ritornello and after its first return, the second stanza offers yet more vocal elaboration and responds beautifully to the text’s assertion that the angels are singing in the sky, a response heightened by a greater use of instrumental accompaniment interwoven with the vocal phrases than was allowed to happen in the first stanza. The third stanza speaks of the battle against “Teufel, Welt und Höllenpfort” and the sense of conflict is heightened by much greater use of instrumental interjections which break up the vocal phrases and the lines of the verse. In the fourth stanza, as the text grows to a full realisation that the birth of “das Jesuslein” guarantees the possibility of human salvation, the musical metre changes and the instruments and voices work more obviously together, so that verse, voice and instruments embody, in their new relationship, the transformation into coherent meaning of which the hymn speaks. Buxtehude, in short, has integrated text, singers and instrumental ensemble with a completeness of achieved purpose that makes Das neugeborne Kindelein a minor masterpiece.
In Der Herr ist mit mir the text is taken from the Psalms (Psalm 118 verses 6-7). In the Authorized Version it reads thus: “The Lord is on my side; I will not fear: what can man do unto me. The Lord taketh my part with them that help me: therefore shall I see my desire upon them that hate me”. To the German translation of these verses is added a concluding ‘Hallelujah’. Buxtehude sets the Psalm text in predominantly homophonic fashion, the text remaining clearly and emphatically audible, its meaning emphasised by some patterned rhythmic and harmonic touches. With the ‘Hallelujah’ Buxtehude launches into a virtuoso ciacona made up of nineteen variations over two-bar ostinato bass. The contrast with what has gone before is startling and exciting.
The most dramatically expressive work here is Fürwahr, er trug unsere Krankheit, setting verses from Isaiah prophetic of the crucifixion. There is some powerful instrumental writing and Buxtehude’s music articulates a powerful response to the idea of the Passion; the writing, both for the bass soloist and for the chorus, as well as for the sections of the chorus, is consistently intense and moving. The response to the imagery of Christ’s wounds and “stripes” is especially poignant. Fürwahr, er trug unsere Krankheit is a fine piece, full of sustained melodies and aching harmonies, and it comes off particularly well in this recording.
Alles, was ihr tut is perhaps the most familiar of these four cantatas. It is an exhortation to ensure that (in the words of the Epistle to the Colossians) “whatsoever ye do in word or deed, [ye] do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the father by him”, as well as a petition that God might assist both individual and community. Buxtehude fruitfully juxtaposes elements of the sacred concerto and the aria, as well as the setting of a chorale text to an already existing melody; homophonic passages and contrapuntal writing are employed by turns; the interplay of instruments and voices is always effective and interesting. In passing phrases – both textual and musical – between soloist and chorus, Buxtehude seems to offer an artistic statement as to the proper relationship between the individual and the community in a Christian society. The whole work breathes an untroubled faith and the continuo work from the Dufay Ensemble is particularly striking here.
The external evidence makes it unlikely that the Magnificat is Buxtehude’s; although one copy of the work was found in the collection of Buxtehude’s friend Gustav Düben, who certainly owned copies of works by Buxtehude, it has to be said that he also owned works by other composers too; other surviving copies of this setting come from areas of Europe where Buxtehude is not known to have had any connections. Nor, indeed, does it really sound like Buxtehude; it lacks the subtlety and inventiveness of Buxtehude at anything like his best. It is pleasant but undistinguished and is perhaps best attributed to that old favourite ‘Anon’.
These are not perfect performances. The closing ‘Hallelujah’ of Der Herr ist mit mir hasn’t quite the brilliance and lightness of touch that the music deserves; Johan Reuter’s bass, though tonally very apt and attractive, isn’t quite as expressive as one might wish; just now and then, by the highest standards, the voices of one or two of the choir’s soloists sound overtaxed. On the other hand, the Choir as a whole sings beautifully, their work tonally lovely, their diction exemplary. The performances are certainly plenty good enough to give the hearer a pretty good idea of just how fine this music is.
-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International
Wolf-Ferrari: The Two Piano Trios
Balada: Works for Clarinet / Ivanov
OUT THERE
Haydn: Symphonies 88, 101 & 104 / McGegan, Philharmonia Baroque
His pacing throughout is ideal; allegros are swift but not so much as to blur characterful detail. The minuets are perfect; trumpets and drums cut through the texture without turning crude; tuttis really fill the acoustic space, and the dynamic range is aptly wide. No performance of these works follows Haydn's dynamic markings literally, but McGegan's adjustments flow with the music and invariably come across as natural--check out the finale of the "London" Symphony for some particularly telling examples.
The live sonics are generally very good, particularly given the fact that the recordings were made over a three-year period (2007-9). In Symphony No. 88 close miking makes the sound a touch rough in places, and I could do without the applause at the end of each work, but the audience otherwise is extremely well-behaved and extraneous performance noises are happily quite minimal. We need Haydn recordings like this: warm, humorous, affecting, yet fully cognizant of period scholarship and style. They are far too rare.
– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
HAYDN Symphonies: No. 104, “London”; No. 88; No. 101, “Clock” • Nicholas McGegan, cond; Philharmonia Baroque O • PHILHARMONIA BAROQUE PBP-02 (75:16) Live: Berkeley, CA 2/10–11/2007, 11/15–16/2008; 9/12–13/2009
Nicholas McGegan and his San Francisco period-instrument ensemble are renowned for their many Handel recordings, but they play music of all eras. This is the first Haydn I’ve heard from them. This 2007 performance of the “London” Symphony is marvelous: The opening Adagio-Allegro brims over with high spirits, highlighted by blazing brass and pounding timpani; the Menuet has grace as well as bounce (McGegan does not play da capo repeats), and the Trio has a delicious lilt, with the merest hint of a luftpause in measure three. The finale is somewhat rough and ready, but its Spiritoso direction is fully realized. Comparisons with other performances do reveal a few shortcomings. As used to be the case in period ensembles, violins are rather dull; those in Richard Hickox’s Collegium Musicum 90 are clean and bright. Hickox’s forces are also better balanced and recorded (by Chandos); McGegan’s woodwinds are often drowned out by screaming trumpets. However, the Hickox has nowhere near the drive and élan of this performance. Nor can McGegan’s strings match the crisp attacks and phenomenal execution of either Colin Davis’s Concertgebouw or Leonard Bernstein’s New York Philharmonic.
The opening Allegro of No. 88 goes beautifully; the movement has no trumpets or timpani. Violins are brighter in 2008, as is the recorded sound. The Largo, however, is a disaster. Bassoons are weak; even when the pair shares the solo line, they are nearly inaudible. Taken even faster (5:30) than the impatient George Szell (5:53), this performance totally misses the movement’s calm beauty. Largos are always difficult; holding the line at a very slow tempo takes enormous concentration and ensemble discipline. Hermann Scherchen almost manages, at a lumbering 10:04; Bernstein’s 7:04 is ideal, in a uniquely lovely rendering. McGegan’s Menuet is back on track; his slow Allegretto works well. The Allegro con spirito finale, again reasonably paced, is also a success—until the coda. In this live performance, McGegan (adrenaline kicking in?) ups the tempo at the last minute, and the final three chords are smudged. Bernstein opts for a ludicrously fast tempo; his virtuoso ensemble pulls it off.
The “Clock” gets a fine performance at mostly consensus tempos; the 2009 sound (they were all at the same site, the First Congregational Church in Berkeley) is more reverberant than before but very well balanced. The Andante is too fast; is McGegan, like Szell, allergic to slow music? The bassoons revive here, but oboe and flute are a bit sour together. Menuet and Finale are magnificent; the wrong-note trumpet joke sounds cleanly, the clarinet-brightened score resounds, and this time the final three chords are crisp.
Good period performances of late Haydn symphonies have been hard to come by. This disc ranks among the best.
FANFARE: James H. North
"...Nicholas McGegan has been honing the San Francisco-based period-instrument Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra for some 25 years. Nor are performances of Haydn’s music in period style anything new. But seldom have his elemental dynamic contrasts sounded so properly in proportion or so mercurial, with the 50 or so players able to play out lustily in fortes and pull back quickly to quieter modes, whether playful, subtle or mysterious...The recordings, made at the First Congregational Church in Berkeley, Calif., from 2007 to 2009, were beautifully produced and engineered by David v. R. Bowles...The release of cumulative excitement at the end of each [symphony] is of a kind that tends to happen only in live circumstances."
- James R. Oestreich, The New York Times [June 24, 2011]
Bartok & Kodaly: The Complete String Quartets
BARTÓK String Quartets No. 1–6. KODÁLY String Quartets Nos. 1 and 2 • Alexander Str Qrt • FOGHORN 2009 (3 CDs: 205:55)
This fascinating set combines the string quartets of two then-young professors of music in Hungary, Béla Bartók and Zoltan Kodály. It’s an interesting set even though Bartók wrote a half-dozen quartets, which have since become staples of string quartets around the world, whereas Kodály only wrote two which are not as frequently programmed. Nor are the Kodály quartets as frequently recorded: ArkivMusic lists only one other recording of the First Quartet, by the Kontra Quartet (BIS 564), and only seven other recordings of Kodály’s No. 2, of which three are historical performances (the Végh Quartet, 1951, on Orfeo 316931; the Hungarian Quartet, 1952, on Music & Arts; and the Hollywood String Quartet, 1958, on Testament). Bartók beat Kodály to his First Quartet by a matter of months, the premiere occurring on January 27, 1909. Both composers worked on their second quartets during the harsh period of the First World War, and both works also had their premieres in 1918. For whatever reason, Kodály stopped at this point, whereas Bartók wrote four more quartets.
Comparing the Emerson Quartet’s performances of the First and Third Bartók quartets to the Alexander’s (I really didn’t have time to do the entire set, but these two quartets provide a good basis, the First being from Bartók’s earlier period and the Third coming from 1927), I found interesting if subtle points of comparison. But my Fanfare colleague Art Lange, upon reviewing the Emerson set when it was reissued in 2007, went even further back, comparing it to the performances of the Hungarian Quartet, and noted the earlier group’s “looser, albeit dramatic approach” in which the Hungarians “take a few liberties with pauses and tempos” and “have a better feel for the folk elements,” though—and I stress this—the earlier group tended to lessen “the accumulated tension” and “exaggerate more of the mysterious and atmospheric passages.” This trend, then, is simply turned up a notch in intensity and continuity by the Alexander, bringing us a tad further forward from the folk style that Bartók used.
With the Third Quartet, Bartók’s most astringent, compact, and dense work of the six, the style of playing is virtually identical in the case of both the Emerson and the Alexander: sonorities are lean, attacks are sharp, and the musical contours angular. There aren’t many interpretive options in this particular piece. But in the First Quartet (as well as in the first movement of the Second, which I also compared), there are decided differences in approach and style. The Emerson employs particularly broad tempos in the opening movement of the First Quartet, taking a leisurely 9:16 compared to the Alexander’s 8: 30. There is also greater warmth in the Emerson’s sound: whether this is a condition of their actual timbres or simply advantageous microphone placement, I don’t know. Of course, the leaner, brighter quality of the Alexander’s recording is entirely appropriate to modern music, particularly the modern music that emerged after Bartók’s death, and even within the context of these six quartets their performances set a very high standard.
As an example, I felt that the Alexander’s performance of the First Quartet’s opening movement, though less leisurely in feeling, has a tensile quality that immerses the listener in Bartók’s unique sound world and holds your attention. It is almost as if the Alexander’s players had the entire score in their heads, could “see” the music progressing as one continuous flow from first note to last, and thus propelled it into the ether for the benefit of the microphones. They do not, thankfully, play mechanically, the music being produced with almost explosive energy and drama. Yet if one goes by timings, the evidence is not always in the Emerson’s favor. The Alexander nearly always takes the fast movements just as fast if not faster than the Emerson, whereas their slow movements are generally (but not always) more relaxed, an exception being the Lento Finale of the Second Quartet, which the Emerson explores in 9:18 while the Alexander gets it done in 7: 38. As I say, tempos do not always indicate phrasing, but a performance nearly two minutes shorter simply has to be taken faster. What’s interesting, however, is that by and large the Alexander’s performance only sounds a little faster, and once again it ties this movement into the overall fabric—the continuity—of the Quartet as a whole.
The Alexander also finds moments of repose within their forward momentum; it’s just that their moments of repose are subtler, less easily discernible as pauses in the music (comparing it to literature, one might say commas in the musical sentences). To a large extent, Bartók’s six quartets are the 20th-century equivalent of Beethoven’s late quartets, and one can most certainly make a generalization between the way earlier string quartets such as the Rosé played them—with a certain amount of gemütlich, more portamento than we are used to today, and more astringent string tone due to the musicians’ more frequent (but not constant) use of straight tone—and the way we’ve come to hear them since the days of the Budapest Quartet, surely the first “modern” string quartet in terms of tautness and ensemble virtuosity, and the Yale Quartet, whose 1961 recordings of these thorny works set new standards. We simply can’t go back to the Rosé Quartet and hear their performances of Beethoven as being within our conception of the music; yet both as a quartet leader and as concertmaster of the Vienna Philharmonic, Arnold Rosé’s artistry and integrity as a musician was utterly beyond question.
I mention this in connection to these performances because it is not only an interesting artistic topic, but also valid in evaluating the evolution of musical performances in the 20th century and beyond. Bartók’s Fourth Quartet, composed in 1928, was in fact dedicated to the Pro Arte Quartet. I daresay that only diehard collectors of vintage performances will be familiar with Pro Arte’s style (they recorded an extensive series of Haydn quartets for HMV in the 1930s, a project ended by the onset of war, and also performed frequently both on and off records with pianist Artur Schnabel), but they were somewhere between the Rosé and the Budapest Quartets. There is a more consistent vibrato, fine and rapid but still discernible, in their playing than in the case of the Rosé, but also a slightly more relaxed rhythmic feel, a bit more give-and-take, than we hear in the playing of the Budapest and the many quartets that followed them. (I should point out that I heard the Hungarian Quartet in person playing Beethoven in 1970, but this was a later edition of this famous group and their style, too, had evolved into a more consistent forward momentum by then, not like their style of the 1950s.)
Checking on the artists’ own website (foghornclassics.com), I was startled to read in a review by Lisa Hirsch of the San Francisco Classical Voice that the Alexander’s live performance of one of the Bartók quartets was “introverted,” without “neglecting the work’s varying moods.” Introverted is not a word I’d apply to these explosive performances. They are indeed fantastic, although I would caution that Bartók’s continual intensity, as well as the extraordinarily dense harmonies and counterpoint, make listening to all six quartets in one sitting a tough go. I would suggest hearing two quartets at a time, separated by either periods of silence or less challenging music. Listening to even three of these works in one session is rather like listening to a full 70-minute CD of Art Tatum. The concentrated complexity of the music that unfolds can tire even a seasoned listener like myself out.
Then we turn to the Kodály quartets, less familiar works surely (this was the first time I had ever heard them), but once again we can make certain generalizations regarding the Alexander’s performances of them as based on the details and style one hears in their Bartók. Even the earlier Quartet No. 1 is given a taut, clean reading, bringing it close in style to Bartók’s own work. Of course, Kodály was his own man: although he assisted Bartók in recording and cataloguing Magyar folk melodies, and used some of their features in his own work, he was more consistent in writing longer, less sharply angular melodies. In short, Kodály’s music sings more, a factor that surely attracted more conductors of his time to perform his music during the 1920s and 1930s than was often Bartók’s fate. In this respect, Kodály’s quartets are a bit closer in general conception (but not exact details) to Janá?ek, whose quartets actually “sing” more than his operas. Listen particularly to the slow movements here: Kodály’s music, and the Alexander’s playing of it, are exceptionally lovely and moving in addition to being musically clean. Once again, as in their Bartók, the Alexander has found a way of bringing out the music’s tender side when tenderness is called for—which is more frequently in these Kodály works.
The list price of this set is $29.96, which breaks down to $9.93 per CD, a very reasonable price in this modern era, but the Alexander’s website indicates that Allegro Music is selling the set for $23.97 (which you can order directly from them), which breaks down to $7.99 per disc, bringing it into line with a budget label such as Naxos. I still like the Emerson’s recordings of the Bartók, but as a total package this one is irresistible. If you’ve put off buying a set of the Bartók quartets until now, and/or don’t have any recordings of the Kodály, you can’t go wrong with this collection. It is, quite simply, terrific.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Mozart: Piano Concertos, Vol. 7 / Christian Zacharias, Lausanne Chamber Orchestra
MOZART Piano Concertos: Nos. 6, 13, 16 • Christian Zacharias (pn, cond); Lausanne Co • MDG GOLD 1667 (SACD: 67:07)
This is Volume 7 in what is apparently going to be a complete set of the Mozart piano concertos by Christian Zacharias. I asked to review it because I was so impressed by his performances of the five Beethoven concertos with Armin Jordan conducting (Cascavelle 3118), in which Zacharias’s enlivened inflections of phrase and rhythmic acuity were combined with original and highly imaginative cadenzas that acted within the concertos like mini-fantasias.
I am not at all disappointed by his solo playing here, which is crisp yet lighter in tone than his Beethoven, which is wholly appropriate for Mozart. The problem, to me, is his conducting and the overall performance and sound quality of the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra. Its playing is “soft” both in phrasing and attack, coming across almost as background or elevator music. This was the kind of Mozart sound in vogue during the late 1970s and early ’80s, before the historically informed crowd moved in to show us that such earlier conductors as Toscanini, Furtwängler, Doráti, and Markevitch had it right, that unlike Haydn, whose music sounds good at a slightly relaxed pace and with a wide dynamic range, Mozart tends toward sameness and boredom when given that approach. Mozart needs to be performed with a combination of emotional commitment and sharply etched contours, as in the performances of Harnoncourt, Norrington, Pinnock, and others. In the case of the piano concertos, one can scarcely imagine or achieve finer performances than those of the entire series recorded by fortepianist Jos van Immerseel and Anima Eterna on Canal Grande 8016.
Of course, there are listeners who are much in favor of this particular style of Mozart performance. I myself was one of them in the early 1980s, when I became a fan of Murray Perahia’s then-groundbreaking series of Mozart concertos. For them, then, this disc and its six other counterparts issued so far will make quite satisfying listening. The hybrid multichannel sound is warm and round, which again de-emphasizes the music’s edge.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Upon Further Reflection - Copland, Tilson Thomas & Wild / Wilson
Pianist John Wilson, like his mentor Michael Tilson Thomas, is a servant of the music rather than its dictator and he knows both when and how to step back and let it speak.
The dynamic young American pianist John Wilson first encountered Michael Tilson Thomas (affectionately known as "MTT") in 2015 when he was a fellow with the New World Symphony. John’s protégé status quickly evolved to that of close confidant and collaborator, leading to this solo debut album featuring the world-premiere recording of the title track, MTT’s three-movement suite for piano, Upon Further Reflection. MTT explains innumerable influences that are embedded throughout the work, including the piano music of Debussy and Schumann, bossa nova, gamelan, ragas, Monteverdi, Berg, and Peggy Lee’s rendition of the song "Alley Cat," all of which “flowed together in a way that seemed completely natural... to me anyway.” In 2019, John premiered a portion of Upon Further Reflection that was broadcast live on MediciTV to an audience of over 50,000. John embellishes the album’s Americana theme with two titans of the solo piano repertoire – Aaron Copland’s early Piano Sonata – a work lesser-heard than the composer’s other works for solo piano – and Earl Wild’s virtuoso arrangements of seven of George Gershwin’s most iconic tunes.
REVIEW:
Given the scope and versatility of his long conducting career, it’s no surprise that Michael Tilson Thomas’s work as a composer has, until now, largely passed under the radar. In recent years, though, it’s begun to emerge. MTT’s latest champion is the pianist John Wilson, a former fellow with the conductor’s New World Symphony and a brilliantly gifted pianist.
His new album, Upon Further Reflection takes its cue from Tilson Thomas: the title track is a three-movement meditation on the artist’s early life, while subsequent selections by Earl Wild and Aaron Copland draw out different strands of MTT’s personality and long career. Taken together, the program paints an affecting portrait.
Upon Further Reflection is an ingratiating piece. Its freshness derives partly from its eclecticism – echoes of jazz, bossa nova, and Broadway collide with more abstracted, nostalgic expressivity – and partly from its wild virtuosity. Indeed, no small part of the thrill of Wilson’s performance is hearing the terrific dexterity with which the pianist dispatches its busiest textures (particularly the concluding “You Come Here Often?,” its material adapted from an aborted 1977 musical).
While Wilson’s just as comfortable with the music’s more ruminative moments – the reflective and somewhat brooding outer thirds in “Sunset Soliloquy (Whitsett Avenue 1963)” are tenderly shaped – much of this piece, like MTT, is smartly extroverted. The profile of the refrains in “Bygone Beguine (1973)” grow in intensity and definition as the movement proceeds, but they never lose their soulful vibe.
Filling out the disc are Wild’s 7 Virtuoso Etudes after Gershwin and Copland’s Piano Sonata.
The Wild set, with their knowing adaptations of familiar tunes, fit smartly alongside Reflection. And Wilson, whose playing is magnificently secure and flawlessly balanced, gives a reading that rivals Wild’s own for character; it exceeds it for recorded quality.
Wilson’s account of Copland’s Piano Sonata is shaped with similar thoughtfulness. This 1942 score is years removed from the populist composer of that day – its harmonic acerbity recalls the Piano Variations of 1930 much more than Rodeo or Appalachian Spring. Regardless, it’s a powerfully-structured work whose three movements chart a course from turbulence to nervous peace.
The pianist has got real sympathy for this music: how it’s structured, how the melodic line develops, its drama is paced, the shifting tone colors, and so on. His control of dynamic contrasts and balances in the first movement are masterful, as is his transition in to the driving Allegro. In the central Vivace, the music shimmers, while the stentorian, oracular gestures at the start of the finale simply melt into the movement’s concluding diatonic counterpoint.
True, that transition provides one of the most powerful contrasts on this disc – and it’s more a compositional accomplishment than an interpretive one. But Wilson, like his mentor MTT, is a servant of the music rather than its dictator and he knows both when and how to step back and let it speak. The result is a performance of raw power and touching beauty.
-- The Arts Fuse (Jonathan Blumhofer)
Bortniansky: I Cried Out To The Lord / Ensemble Cherubim
BORTNIANSKY Cherubic Hymn No. 7. Choral Concertos: Nos. 1, 6, 9, 15, 18, 21, 27, 32. How Glorious is our Lord in Zion • Marika Kuzma, cond; Ens Cherubim • NAXOS 8.573109 (63:04 Text and Translation)
We all know that Russian music began with Glinka, right? Well no, actually it didn’t, especially if one considers the rich tradition of a cappella liturgical music in the Russian Orthodox Church. From the late 17th century onward, these compositions are often credited to individual composers, such as Nikolai Diletsky (1630–1690), Vasily Titov (1650–1715), Maksim Berezovsky (1745–1777), Stepan Degtiarev (1766–1813), and Artemy Vedel (1767–1806). Dmitry Bortniansky (1751–1825) was one of the consummate practitioners of this art, but in addition to church music he wrote operas and instrumental works. All of the composers mentioned were strongly influenced by European musical styles, and none more so than Bortniansky. Of Ukrainian birth, he was recruited into the Imperial Court Chapel Choir in St. Petersburg at the age of seven. Because of his outstanding abilities, he was eventually sent to Italy to study, spent 10 years there, and had several of his operas produced in Italian theaters. Upon his return to Russia in 1779 he achieved great success as a composer and choral director and in 1796 was appointed director of the Imperial Court Chapel.
There have been a good many recordings of Bortniansky’s music, but this one is claimed to be “the first to restore authentic early 19th-century Church Slavonic pronunciation and reintroduce fine details found in archival sources.” Not having been present in Russia during the early 19th century, I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the pronunciation, and I would be curious to know on what basis it was established. The notes by conductor and Bortniansky scholar Marika Kuzma shed little light on this issue, except to remark that the orthography in the printed Cyrillic texts “intentionally includes archaic letters to signal an earlier, St. Petersburg pronunciation of Church Slavonic that differs from current Russian or Ukrainian practice.” The “archaic” letters mentioned were eliminated from Russian in the post-revolutionary orthographic reform, which as far as I know did not affect pronunciation. The eliminated letters were simply considered redundant. The claim to historical authenticity is somewhat undermined by the presence in the choir of women’s voices, which traditionally were not used in Orthodox Church music. I must acknowledge, however, that many other recordings of such material also employ a mixed chorus. In any case, Kuzma’s credentials as a choral director, musicologist, and Bortniansky expert are strong, and one can have some confidence in the quality of her research on issues relating to this composer. Above all, it is the quality of the music and the performances that is important, and here Kuzma’s recording is on very firm ground.
A notable feature of these performances is their transparency, contrasting with the massive, blended choral sound favored by other recordings of similar material. This transparency is very beneficial to Bortniansky’s contrapuntal textures and antiphonal effects, and achieving it is clearly one of Kuzma’s major objectives. In the notes, she announces her intention to avoid the “rich, legato choral style of traditional Russian choirs,” which creates “a wash of sound that blurs the fine detail indicated in Bortniansky’s scores.” In Cherubic Hymn No. 7, which opens the program and is probably the composer’s best-known work, the excellent intonation of the Ensemble Cherubim is also immediately apparent. Kuzma’s delivery is a bit quicker but also more relaxed and serene than the performance by the Lege Artis Chamber Choir of St. Petersburg (Sony). Another hymn, Kol’ slaven nash Gospod v Sione (How Glorious is Our Lord in Zion), brings the disc to a tranquil conclusion. Its text, drawn from a poem by Mikhail Kheraskov (1733–1807), is in Russian rather than Church Slavonic, unlike the rest of the works on the disc.
Between the two hymns, the bulk of the disc is devoted to eight of Bortniansky’s 35 sacred concertos for single chorus (he also wrote some for double chorus). The concertos are in three or four short movements and set a variety of religious texts, drawn mostly from the Psalms. Slow movements tend to alternate with faster ones, the latter being highly contrapuntal in character. The emotions expressed in these works run the gamut from deepest despair and mourning to joyous celebration. In addition to the qualities of transparency, textural detail, and precise intonation previously mentioned, Kuzma’s performances are characterized by intensity, elasticity, and variety in tempo and dynamics. If you think an hour of unaccompanied choral music can become monotonous, think again. That is not the case here.
Although a substantial number of discs that include some music by Bortniansky are available, recordings devoted exclusively to his choral music are few, and the selection of concertos assembled by Kuzma cannot currently be replicated on CD. The main competition for this release comes from the efforts of Valery Polyansky, who recorded all 35 concertos with the Russian State Symphonic Capella for Chandos on five discs. The first volume of his series, which contains the first nine concertos and three of those included by Kuzma, is currently available only as an MP3 download. Each of the remaining Chandos discs includes no more than one or two of the works recorded by Kuzma. Polyansky also recorded some of the concertos earlier for Melodiya, first with the Moscow Conservatory Chamber Choir and later with the USSR Ministry of Culture Chamber Choir. These earlier recordings appear to be unavailable at present. The contrast between Polyansky’s approach and that of Kuzma is consistent with her own description of the differences between the “traditional Russian choral sound” and what she seeks to achieve. It would be difficult to question Polyansky’s commitment and authority in this repertoire, or the sonorous majesty of his Chandos recordings, but where I’ve been able to make direct comparisons (in Nos. 1, 6, 9, 18, and 21), I find myself often preferring Kuzma, because of clearer textures, livelier tempos (especially in the slow movements), and more pointed rhythm. It is also noteworthy that where Polyansky relies constantly on a massed chorus, Kuzma frequently assigns lines to individual singers or a small contingent, which makes for a greater variety of texture. The differences in interpretation are perhaps most obvious in the opening movement of Concerto No. 21 (“He that dwelleth in the help of the Most High”), where Polyansky’s marmoreal pace nearly doubles Kuzma’s timing (4:31 vs. 2:22), and Kuzma’s chamber-like texture contrasts strikingly with the dark mass of Polyansky’s chorus. Here one must acknowledge the greater sense of other-worldly mystery achieved by Polyansky, as well as the more powerful presence of bass voices in his rendition. Both these varieties of interpretation have their place.
The sound of this recording is very clean, clear, and well focused, free of the wooliness that sometimes afflicts choral recordings. Polyansky’s Chandos discs, by contrast, are recorded in a much more reverberant environment. The Church Slavonic and Russian texts are offered in Cyrillic, along with English translations, but no transliteration is provided, which is great for those with knowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet, but those without it are at a disadvantage.
The fine performances on this disc offer a good introduction to and sampling of Bortniansky’s choral music. I strongly recommend this excellent disc to anyone interested specifically in this composer or in Russian music before Glinka.
FANFARE: Daniel Morrison
Rossini: Ricciardo e Zoraide / Perez-Sierra, Virtuosi Brunesis
It takes place during the Crusades in Dongola in ancient Nubia. The Nubian king Agorante is infatuated with Princess Zoraide, daughter of Ircano, whom Agorante has defeated. Zoraide was captured and the Christian knight Ricciardo, Zoraide’s lover, accompanies an emissary to have her released. Agorante’s wife, Zomira, feels her position as Queen is threatened and arranges that Ricciardo and Zoraide are captured and plots to have them executed. In the end an army of Christians rescues the two lovers.
The story is more complicated than the above summary says, but it is something of a thriller and it should be able to engage an audience – as it obviously did at Bad Wildbad in July 2013, even though it was only a concert performance. This on the other hand means that extraneous noises are reduced to a minimum – only applause after some numbers and at the end of acts.
The sinfonia is brass-laden and gloomy and we understand that this is going to be a sad story. After 3-4 minutes it becomes lighter in tone, march-like for a while, but there is little joy. Some woodwind for a while lighten things up further but a long horn solo spreads more gloom – though the melody is beautiful. In the end the Rossini we know steps forward, faintly smiling, but no crescendo within eyesight, just a jolly piccolo flute … and then: Curtain! There is a brassy intro to the opening chorus with troops and Nubian people – and here some joy creeps in: their leader Agorante has just returned home victorious.
Agorante addresses the people and informs that he has expelled Ircano and his followers because Ircano has denied him the hand of his daughter who, we already know from the summary, happens to be in love with Ricciardo. Thus we are at once involved in the love triangle that is the core of the story.
Agorante then sings a cavatina with high-lying tessitura and virtuoso passages, well-sung by Randall Bills who ends in the bass register. The cabaletta that follows, requires him to climb up in the stratosphere. A man of power he is properly hailed by his soldiers … and the audience.
Enter Zoraide, who is an important character – at the premiere she was sung by Isabella Colbran and we can expect some great things, but she is not quite in focus yet. After some dialogue with her confidante Elmira, the Queen, Zomira arrives. She offers to help Zoraide deal with Agorante’s unwelcome wooing – but her prime aim is to render Zoraide harmless since she believes Zoraide wants to force her off the throne. Zoraide doesn’t trust the Queen and the two women sing a dramatic duet, where the Queen is formidable in her anger (CD 1 tr. 8-10). When Agorante pops up this gives Rossini an opportunity to write a lively and dramatic terzetto, Cruda sorte! (CD 1 tr. 12-13), with a bridal chorus singing a wedding song in the background (the King is very sure he will bring home his new bride!), and here Rossini can’t avoid building up one of his famous crescendos.
There is a change of scenes, and after a proud soldiers’ chorus we finally encounter Ricciardo and his friend Ernesto. They have just arrived on a ship, Ernesto is there to plead to Agorante that he releases Zoraide and Ricciardo, disguised as an African, is acting as his guide. He sings a cavatina where he pours out his longing after Zoraide. Maxim Mironov, certainly one of today’s best bel canto tenors, has a sappy voice, elegant vocalism and marvellous phrasing (CD 1 tr. 16). In the cabaletta, which is filled with stunning coloratura, Ernesto also joins in. After a new change of scenes we meet the jealous Zomira and her confidante Elmira, who is ordered to keep an eye on Zoraide’s every move. In the final scene the tension builds up and Agorante’s decision to start another war creates turmoil, accompanied by martial rumble from the timpani.
We needn’t go into every complication during the second act, but there are some good musical numbers worth pointing out. The first is the duet between Agorante and Ricciardo, the latter still in disguise. Their voices are so different in character that there is no problem to tell them apart. They sing well together, and in the following florid cabaletta Agorante (Bills) excels in brilliant top notes, whereas Ricciardo (Mironov) displays his elegant bel canto (CD 2 tr. 6-7).
They separate and now Ricciardo and Zoraide meet alone for the first time – but they are secretly observed by Elmira! Their duet (CD 3 tr. 2-3) is one of the highlights of the score. The final note, taken fortissimo, causes furore in the audience. I would have preferred it much more lyrical. Before Ricciardo has been able to explain his plan to run away with his beloved, Agorante suddenly appears, and when Ircano, Zoraida’s father also unexpectedly appears, this gives room for a quartet, where Nahuel Di Pierro powerful black bass in the role of Ircano gives dramatic depth to the music.
In the next scene the vengeful Zomira has a big scene (CD 3 tr. 7-8). Musically it is excellent and Silvia Beltrami’s powerful and expressive voice – more contralto than mezzo-soprano – is certainly in phase with the character. A pity that her vibrato sometimes is a bit wider than one could wish, but it is a dramatic highpoint.
The final scene begins with plaintive sounds in the orchestra. Ricciardo and Zoraide are now certain they will be executed, and Zoraide, expresses her desperation in her grand scena. Alessandra Marianelli musters some really intensive singing here. But their rescue is imminent. Like a deus ex machina Ernesto arrives with his troops and disperses Agorante’s soldiers. He disarms Agorante, but Ricciardo prevents him from killing the King and gives his sword back to him. Moved by such chivalry Ircano grants Ricciardo the hand of Zoraide. Everybody, except Zomira, rejoices at this happy end!
Though not one of Rossini’s greatest operas, it still has a lot to offer. The singing on this issue is generally good and Maxim Mironov adds another great achievement to his CV as recording artist. The recorded sound is worthy of the occasion, and there is an interesting essay and a comprehensive synopsis. Rossinians shouldn’t miss this.
– MusicWeb International (Göran Forsling)
Beethoven: Symphonies No 5 And 8 / Herreweghe, Et Al
BEETHOVEN Symphonies: No. 5; No. 8 • Philippe Herreweghe, cond; Royal Flemish P • PENTATONE 5186 316 (Multichannel hybrid SACD: 54:16)
This disc represents Volume 2 of a set of the complete Beethoven symphonies currently in progress (the first volume, on the Talent label, included Symphonies 4 and 7 and was reviewed by Colin Anderson in 29:2). In a clumsily translated note Herreweghe refers to “nature” trumpets and “Baroque kettle drums with modern tuning”; these would appear to be the only concessions to period practice—by all accounts, the Royal Flemish orchestra employs modern instruments. This series would appear, then, to be comparable to the latest set conducted by Roger Norrington, with the orchestra of the Stuttgart Radio, on Hänssler.
Unlike Norrington, Herreweghe is unhampered by a tendency toward extreme tempos or self-conscious gestures. Though the tempos of the Fifth Symphony are analogous in swiftness to those of Benjamin Zander on his splendid Telarc recording, there is no sense of the kind of schizoid recklessness that marred Norrington’s Fifth, in which a furious first-movement exposition followed a more sensibly paced opening motto. What we hear instead is a superbly performed and exciting rendering of Beethoven’s war-horse. Orchestral execution is everything one could wish for, with crisp phrasing and spirited ensemble. The conducting illuminates the genius of the conception without in any way calling attention to itself.
In the slow movement, Herreweghe expertly conveys the sense of forward momentum without scrimping on the lyrical richness of Beethoven’s melodic invention. There is no sense of bombast in the triumphant finale, just a very satisfying feeling of rightness—for Beethoven’s creation and for this recreation of it. Herreweghe includes the first movement exposition repeat but follows Beethoven’s revision and eliminates the one in the Scherzo. The sound is resonant yet precise, antiphonal violins aiding in the natural balance. The listener’s perspective is intimate but not airless, allowing for atmosphere and impact. One interesting anomaly: the oboe extends the cadenza in the first movement recapitulation, replacing the one Beethoven wrote, but I found this to be an interesting and idiomatic gesture.
Herreweghe injects a muscular element, propelled by the timpani, into the Eighth Symphony, invigorating what has sometimes in the past been simply a lighthearted romp; there is lightness here, too, but the overall feeling is of vitality. Norrington, by contrast, tends to lurch through the first movement, so that whatever humor there is seems heavy-handed. The sound production he received possesses less resonant fullness than that on the PentaTone disc; strings, for one example, often sound thin and scrappy on the Hänssler CD.
The elegant little Allegretto, under Herreweghe’s hands, verges on the slightly pompous, while the third movement minuet becomes, for all intents and purposes, a scherzo, full of badly placed accents and miscues—all of which, in the words of annotator Tom Janssesns, “indicated that the Classical symphony now truly belonged to the past.” We are then propelled into the finale and its sprightly touches that clearly point to the future, and especially to Mendelssohn. Herreweghe and his Belgian colleagues dispatch the piece with panache.
This is a delightful and highly entertaining disc containing two fine performances of music that never sounds tired or routine. I look forward to the next installment with keen anticipation.
FANFARE: Christopher Abbot
Jean-Marie Leclair: Violin Concertos, Vol. 1 - Op. 7, Nos. 1
Tchaikovsky: The Queen Of Spades (Ballet Version) / Lacombe, Orchestre Des Grands Ballets Canadiens De Montreal
The balletic action unfolds in seven sections. Part 1 (18:37), the longest, sets the mood with the Countess’s aria, “Je crains de lui parler de nuit,” a melody Tchaikovsky borrowed from Grétry for period flavor. Motives associated with Gherman’s troubled character then lead to events occurring in the Private Gaming Club, with the music of Tomsky and his comrades entertaining themselves with the mysterious legend of the “Three Cards,” as the scene concludes with the return of the Grétry melody. Without having seen the ballet, the impression is clearly conveyed that the Old Countess is the drama’s principal character.
Part 2 is misleadingly called “A Park in Leningrad” (for reasons known to its creators, the ballet represents the Soviet era of 1938). This is a lyric episode embracing Pauline’s aria and her duet with Lisa, reasonably true to Tchaikovsky’s music, with a discreet accordion part added to the orchestration. The lengthy part 3 (“Soirée au ballet”) combines the opera’s Mozartian pastoral music and the love themes from the Lisa/Gherman scene. The combination may sound incongruous on paper, but it is no doubt effective choreographically, culminating with an exciting “Pas de deux.” Part 4 (“At the Countess’s Home”) is a skillfully condensed free musical elaboration of the turbulent scene involving, again, the Grétry aria, Gherman breaking the solitude of the frightened Countess, her sudden death, and Lisa’s shocked reaction.
Part 5, called “The Funeral,” opens with Gherman in the barracks, with trumpet sounds in the distance. The ghost of the Countess makes her appearance and reveals the secret of the “Three Cards.” Part 6 (“At the Bridge”) nicely condenses Lisa’s desperate third-act aria with the subsequent intense duet with Gherman and Lisa’s suicide. The concluding part 7 takes us back to the Private Gaming Club, with its busy Prokofiev-style gambling atmosphere. We hear expressions of Gherman’s despair, interwoven reflections of the love music, suggestions of the tragic end, as the “Grétry motive” provides a pianissimo underpainting to Gherman’s dying moments.
Lovers of this opera should know that Prince Yeletsky does not appear in this ballet—nor is he present in the Pushkin novel. Accordingly, there is no reference here of the Prince’s gorgeous aria, which, however justified, is a pity. Still, the ballet is put together with great skill and is undeniably pleasing to the eye and ear. The musical presentation is fine, but the recorded sound, with its lack of depth and immediacy, is somewhat colorless.
FANFARE: George Jellinek