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SaleFuchs: Serenades Nos. 1 & 2 / Christian Ludwig, Cologne Chamber Orchestra
Naxos · Mar 2011CD$19.99$9.99 -
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The Art Of Egon Petri - Concert Performances & Broadcasts, 1954-1962
Music and Arts Programs of America · Aug 2013CD$36.99 -
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Haydn: String Quartets, Vol. 14 - Op. 9, No. 1, 2 & 3 / Leipzig String Quarte
MDG · Mar 2022CD$23.99 -
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Paganini: Complete Chamber Music / Paganini String Quartet
Dynamic
CD
$53.99
Jan 29, 2008
These rarely encountered chamber music scores on this splendid set are certainly worthy of investigation.
Dynamic, the independent Italian record label, based close to Paganini’s birthplace in Genoa, has compiled this ten disc set of their previously issued Paganini recordings. It seems that several of these recordings were receiving their first recording. Although this box includes the complete edition of Paganini’s fifteen quartets for strings and guitar; the three string quartets and a number of other chamber works there is certainly much of Paganini’s chamber music not included here. It omits the large amount of chamber music that Paganini wrote for guitar and violin, solo guitar and for solo violin. There are seventy or so duets for violin and guitar, including the familiar Sonata concertata, MS2, Grand Sonata, MS3 and the Cantabile, MS109. In addition Paganini wrote over a hundred scores for solo guitar. Dynamic have issued discs of a sizeable number of Paganini’s works for violin and guitar and a disc of some of his solo guitar scores.AB The Arts Music label on Red Line has four volumes of the solo guitar music.C With regard to the solo violin music there are many available versions. For the Dynamic label Stefan Milenkovich has recorded the complete music for solo violin - released in 2004 on CDS 402/1-2.
Paganini holds an esteemed status as probably the world’s finest ever virtuoso violinist but his chamber music compositions are, with minor exceptions, almost totally ignored. It is often forgotten that Paganini also played and composed for the guitar. In fact, of the five opus numbers published during his lifetime only the op. 1 set of 24 Caprices for Solo Violin did not include the guitar. It may come as a surprise that Paganini also wrote a sacred choral score entitled Le couvent du mont St. Bernard for violin, chorus and orchestra. I have yet to hear it but it was given its first recording by the Dynamic label.
I have previously reviewed five of the ensemble scores with guitar that are contained on this release on two volumes of recordings from the German based Ambitus label (Vol. 1 AMB97977 and Vol. 2 AMB96899).
It seems that Paganini wrote chamber music from an early age and continued to do so regularly throughout his life. Often he would compose whilst on tour as a virtuoso performer during the long and arduous coach journeys. Biographer Danilo Prefumo has written that, “Paganini’s chamber music is the genuine expression of the more private side of this composer’s musicality …” The general neglect of Paganini’s chamber music is highlighted by the fact that for many decades a large number of the scores have not been generally available for performance. For example his three string quartets MS20 were published as recently as 1976 with a performing edition in 1991; some hundred and fifty years after their composition.
In addition to his fame for composing for the violin Paganini also wrote a substantial amount of music for the guitar. The majority of the scores on this Dynamic release include the guitar. Swiss composer Franz von Wartensee, an associate of Paganini, wrote in his memoirs, “Not everyone knows that Paganini was a first-rate guitarist, since he did not consider it worth the effort to present himself publicly as such.” The sources of information that I have checked are rather vague on the origins and dates of Paganini’s attraction to the guitar. I understand that the main influence was his father Antonio who was himself a mandolin player and it is likely that from an early age Paganini would have received instruction from Antonio. It seems that from around 1801, during the few years that Paganini lived with a wealthy lady on her country estate in Tuscany, his energies were principally channelled into guitar study and composition.
On the whole the music on this Dynamic series is characteristic, lyrical and immensely enjoyable. These scores have a propensity for delivering entertainment rather than cherishing pretensions of greatness; those wanting significant emotional depth to their music should look elsewhere.
Comprising seventy percent of the set the fifteen Quartets for strings and guitar (CDs 1-5); the three Strings quartets (CD 7) and the five Trios for strings and guitar (CD 6) follow a similar sound-world and design. Here Paganini’s typical four movement plan predominantly consists of a quick and entertaining opening movement Allegro followed by a lively and carefree second movement Minuet that verges on a Scherzo. The slow third movement is expressive, aria-like and sweetly lyrical, marked Adagio or Andante. Concluding the score is a brisk and spiritedly ebullient Allegro or Presto that sometimes employs the stricter form of a Rondo.
I especially enjoyed the Theme and eight Variations for two violins and cello, MS117 (CD 8) - an unusual and pleasurable score with a noble theme, followed by a set of eight variations containing a wide range of moods. The twenty one Divertimenti carnevaleschi for two violins and cello, MS4 (CD 8) are a substantial set of short and varied scores.
Included on the final disc is the four Nocturnes for two violins, viola and cello, MS15 (CD 10). Each of the Nocturnes opens with an expressive slow movement that precedes a brisk and lithe dance-like movement. Two interesting and amiable scores are the Sonata per Rovene per mandolino e chitarra (Serenata per Rovene in E minor for mandolin and guitar), MS14 and the Serenata per mandolino e chitarra (Serenata in G major for mandolin and guitar), MS16. Both scores are cast in two brief movements with the mandolin taking the leading role. In a way similar to the four Nocturnes, MS15 a slow movement is followed by a movement of a swifter pace. The final work on the set the Minuetto per l’amandorlino per mandolino solo (Minuet in E major for solo mandolin), MS106 is a rather uninspiring three movement affair.
To be candid these works although interesting and highly appealing are not candidates to become staples of the chamber repertoire and are unlikely to be taken up by the leading ensembles on the international stage. Notwithstanding the numerous four movement scores, I found many of the other works such as the three Duets for violin and cello; the twenty one Divertimenti carnevaleschi for two violins and cello; the substantial three Duets for violin and bassoon; the Sonata per Rovene per mandolino e chitarra and the Serenata per mandolino e chitarra contained surprises both in terms of layout, employment of instrumentation and musical content.
Generally, I was fascinated by how Paganini’s writing can sometimes display a certain vulgarity and the next minute I could be enchanted by his charm and warmth. I found it frequently difficult to forecast what Paganini would do next and this unpredictability is a characteristic that was highly pleasing.
Dynamic have employed some nineteen different players over the fifteen year span of these recordings. Violinists: Bruno Pignata the leader of the Quartetto Paganini performs on a large number of the scores; Stefan Milenkovich displays his undoubted prowess on disc 8 and the renowned international soloist and Paganini champion Salvatore Accardo plays on the Three Duets for violin and bassoon (CD 9). It is clear from these interpretations that the players relish the attractive writing. Throughout I was impressed by the matching of the players, their blend of ensemble and choice of pace. Overall finesse, eloquence and tonal beauty are not words that I would use to describe these performances although the playing is consistently characterful, and often glowing and delightful. I especially enjoyed the effervescent performances of the allegros of the quintets and quartets and was impressed that the momentum of the slow movements is never allowed to wane.
Generally the sound quality has been produced to a decent standard, clean and bright with just a slight lack of depth. However, on CD 9 I found the Three Duets for violin and bassoon to be rather too brightly lit and I had to resort to considerable adjustment of the line-out-level on my disc player. There is an interesting and well written essay in the accompanying booklet by Danilo Prefumo; yet I was left wanting more information on the actual scores.
These rarely encountered chamber music scores from the Genoese Maestro are certainly worthy of investigation.
-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International
Full details
CD 1: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 1 [67:16]
Quartet No. 1 in A minor, Op.4/1, MS28 [21:41]
Quartet No. 9 in D major, MS36 [21:42]
Quartet No. 10 in A major, MS37 [23:53]
CD 2: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 2 [63:47]
Quartet No. 11 in B major, MS38 [20:28]
Quartet No. 12 in A minor, MS39 [23:33]
Quartet No. 13 in F major, MS40 (1819) [19:46]
CD 3: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 3 [68:53]
Quartet No. 3 in A major, Op. 4/3, MS30 [21:21]
Quartet No. 7 in E major, MS34 [26:04]
Quartet No. 14 in A major, MS41 [21:27]
CD 4: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 4 [64:03]
Quartet No. 2 in C major, Op. 4/2, MS29 [18:56]
Quartet No. 8 in A major, MS35 [23:03]
Quartet No. 15 in A minor, MS42 [22:04]
CD 5: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 5 [74:17]
Quartet No. 4 in D major, Op.5/1, MS31 [24:21]
Quartet No. 5 in D major, Op. 5/2, MS32 [24:20]
Quartet No. 6 in D minor, Op. 5/3, MS33 [25:36]
CD 6: Complete Trios for strings and guitar [65:29]
Serenata in C major for viola, cello and guitar, MS17 [15:10]
Terzetto Concertante in D major for viola, cello and guitar, MS114 [22:55]
Terzetto in D major for viola, cello and guitar, MS69 [20:12]
Terzetto in A minor for 2 violins and guitar, MS116 [03:03]
Serenata in F major for 2 violins and guitar, MS115 [04:09]
CD 7: Complete String Quartets, MS20 [64:55]
String Quartet No. 1 (c.1815) [19:02]
String Quartet No. 2 (c.1815) [23:00]
String Quartet No. 3 (c.1815) [22:53]
CD 8: Works for violin/s and cello [67:00]
In cor più non mi sento, theme and variations for two violins and cello, [08:15]
Three Duets for violin and cello:
Duet No.1 [09:13]
Duet No.2 [09:49]
Duet No.3 [09:21]
21 Divertimenti carnevaleschi for 2 violins and cello, MS4 [30:22]
CD 9: Three Duets for violin and bassoon, MS130 [50:08]
Duet No.1 [16:57]
Duet No.2 [16:52]
Duet No.3 [16:19]
CD 10: Quattro Notturni a quartetto, MS15 and other works [57:07]
Quattro Notturni a quartetto for two violins, viola and cello, MS15: Notturno No. 1, [06:28]
Notturno No. 2, [07:11]
Notturno No. 3, [04:14]
Notturno No. 4, [03:31]
Quartet No. 7 in E major for two violins, viola and cello, MS34
(transcription from quartet for strings and guitar) [22:49]
Sonata per Rovene per mandolino e chitarra, MS14 [02:56]
Serenata per mandolino e chitarra, MS16 [02:53]
Minuetto per l’amandorlino per mandolino solo, MS106 [07:05]
Performers Quartetto Paganini: Bruno Pignata (violin), Lorenzo Lugli (viola), Paola Mosca (cello), Giuseppe Briasco (guitar) (CDs 1-3). Quartetto Paganini: Bruno Pignata (violin), Ernest Braucher (viola), Riccardo Agosti (cello), Giuseppe Briasco (guitar) (CDs 4 & 5). Dora Bratchkova (violin), Götz Hartmann (violin), Antonello Farulli (viola), Andrea Noferini (cello), Adriano Sebastiani (guitar) (CD 6). Quartetto d’archi Paganini: Bruno Pignata (violin), Gian Luca Allocco (violin), Ernest Braucher (viola), Dario De Stefano (cello) (CD 7). Stefan Milenkovich (violin), Riccardo Agosti (cello), Pier Domenico Sommati (second violin) (CD 8). Salvatore Accardo (violin), Claudio Gonella (bassoon) (CD 9). Quartetto d’archi Paganini: Bruno Pignata (violin), Gian Luca Allocco (violin), Ernest Braucher (viola), Dario De Stefano (cello), Dorina Frati (Genoese mandolin), Piera Dadomo (guitar) (CD 10).
Dynamic, the independent Italian record label, based close to Paganini’s birthplace in Genoa, has compiled this ten disc set of their previously issued Paganini recordings. It seems that several of these recordings were receiving their first recording. Although this box includes the complete edition of Paganini’s fifteen quartets for strings and guitar; the three string quartets and a number of other chamber works there is certainly much of Paganini’s chamber music not included here. It omits the large amount of chamber music that Paganini wrote for guitar and violin, solo guitar and for solo violin. There are seventy or so duets for violin and guitar, including the familiar Sonata concertata, MS2, Grand Sonata, MS3 and the Cantabile, MS109. In addition Paganini wrote over a hundred scores for solo guitar. Dynamic have issued discs of a sizeable number of Paganini’s works for violin and guitar and a disc of some of his solo guitar scores.AB The Arts Music label on Red Line has four volumes of the solo guitar music.C With regard to the solo violin music there are many available versions. For the Dynamic label Stefan Milenkovich has recorded the complete music for solo violin - released in 2004 on CDS 402/1-2.
Paganini holds an esteemed status as probably the world’s finest ever virtuoso violinist but his chamber music compositions are, with minor exceptions, almost totally ignored. It is often forgotten that Paganini also played and composed for the guitar. In fact, of the five opus numbers published during his lifetime only the op. 1 set of 24 Caprices for Solo Violin did not include the guitar. It may come as a surprise that Paganini also wrote a sacred choral score entitled Le couvent du mont St. Bernard for violin, chorus and orchestra. I have yet to hear it but it was given its first recording by the Dynamic label.
I have previously reviewed five of the ensemble scores with guitar that are contained on this release on two volumes of recordings from the German based Ambitus label (Vol. 1 AMB97977 and Vol. 2 AMB96899).
It seems that Paganini wrote chamber music from an early age and continued to do so regularly throughout his life. Often he would compose whilst on tour as a virtuoso performer during the long and arduous coach journeys. Biographer Danilo Prefumo has written that, “Paganini’s chamber music is the genuine expression of the more private side of this composer’s musicality …” The general neglect of Paganini’s chamber music is highlighted by the fact that for many decades a large number of the scores have not been generally available for performance. For example his three string quartets MS20 were published as recently as 1976 with a performing edition in 1991; some hundred and fifty years after their composition.
In addition to his fame for composing for the violin Paganini also wrote a substantial amount of music for the guitar. The majority of the scores on this Dynamic release include the guitar. Swiss composer Franz von Wartensee, an associate of Paganini, wrote in his memoirs, “Not everyone knows that Paganini was a first-rate guitarist, since he did not consider it worth the effort to present himself publicly as such.” The sources of information that I have checked are rather vague on the origins and dates of Paganini’s attraction to the guitar. I understand that the main influence was his father Antonio who was himself a mandolin player and it is likely that from an early age Paganini would have received instruction from Antonio. It seems that from around 1801, during the few years that Paganini lived with a wealthy lady on her country estate in Tuscany, his energies were principally channelled into guitar study and composition.
On the whole the music on this Dynamic series is characteristic, lyrical and immensely enjoyable. These scores have a propensity for delivering entertainment rather than cherishing pretensions of greatness; those wanting significant emotional depth to their music should look elsewhere.
Comprising seventy percent of the set the fifteen Quartets for strings and guitar (CDs 1-5); the three Strings quartets (CD 7) and the five Trios for strings and guitar (CD 6) follow a similar sound-world and design. Here Paganini’s typical four movement plan predominantly consists of a quick and entertaining opening movement Allegro followed by a lively and carefree second movement Minuet that verges on a Scherzo. The slow third movement is expressive, aria-like and sweetly lyrical, marked Adagio or Andante. Concluding the score is a brisk and spiritedly ebullient Allegro or Presto that sometimes employs the stricter form of a Rondo.
I especially enjoyed the Theme and eight Variations for two violins and cello, MS117 (CD 8) - an unusual and pleasurable score with a noble theme, followed by a set of eight variations containing a wide range of moods. The twenty one Divertimenti carnevaleschi for two violins and cello, MS4 (CD 8) are a substantial set of short and varied scores.
Included on the final disc is the four Nocturnes for two violins, viola and cello, MS15 (CD 10). Each of the Nocturnes opens with an expressive slow movement that precedes a brisk and lithe dance-like movement. Two interesting and amiable scores are the Sonata per Rovene per mandolino e chitarra (Serenata per Rovene in E minor for mandolin and guitar), MS14 and the Serenata per mandolino e chitarra (Serenata in G major for mandolin and guitar), MS16. Both scores are cast in two brief movements with the mandolin taking the leading role. In a way similar to the four Nocturnes, MS15 a slow movement is followed by a movement of a swifter pace. The final work on the set the Minuetto per l’amandorlino per mandolino solo (Minuet in E major for solo mandolin), MS106 is a rather uninspiring three movement affair.
To be candid these works although interesting and highly appealing are not candidates to become staples of the chamber repertoire and are unlikely to be taken up by the leading ensembles on the international stage. Notwithstanding the numerous four movement scores, I found many of the other works such as the three Duets for violin and cello; the twenty one Divertimenti carnevaleschi for two violins and cello; the substantial three Duets for violin and bassoon; the Sonata per Rovene per mandolino e chitarra and the Serenata per mandolino e chitarra contained surprises both in terms of layout, employment of instrumentation and musical content.
Generally, I was fascinated by how Paganini’s writing can sometimes display a certain vulgarity and the next minute I could be enchanted by his charm and warmth. I found it frequently difficult to forecast what Paganini would do next and this unpredictability is a characteristic that was highly pleasing.
Dynamic have employed some nineteen different players over the fifteen year span of these recordings. Violinists: Bruno Pignata the leader of the Quartetto Paganini performs on a large number of the scores; Stefan Milenkovich displays his undoubted prowess on disc 8 and the renowned international soloist and Paganini champion Salvatore Accardo plays on the Three Duets for violin and bassoon (CD 9). It is clear from these interpretations that the players relish the attractive writing. Throughout I was impressed by the matching of the players, their blend of ensemble and choice of pace. Overall finesse, eloquence and tonal beauty are not words that I would use to describe these performances although the playing is consistently characterful, and often glowing and delightful. I especially enjoyed the effervescent performances of the allegros of the quintets and quartets and was impressed that the momentum of the slow movements is never allowed to wane.
Generally the sound quality has been produced to a decent standard, clean and bright with just a slight lack of depth. However, on CD 9 I found the Three Duets for violin and bassoon to be rather too brightly lit and I had to resort to considerable adjustment of the line-out-level on my disc player. There is an interesting and well written essay in the accompanying booklet by Danilo Prefumo; yet I was left wanting more information on the actual scores.
These rarely encountered chamber music scores from the Genoese Maestro are certainly worthy of investigation.
-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International
Full details
CD 1: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 1 [67:16]
Quartet No. 1 in A minor, Op.4/1, MS28 [21:41]
Quartet No. 9 in D major, MS36 [21:42]
Quartet No. 10 in A major, MS37 [23:53]
CD 2: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 2 [63:47]
Quartet No. 11 in B major, MS38 [20:28]
Quartet No. 12 in A minor, MS39 [23:33]
Quartet No. 13 in F major, MS40 (1819) [19:46]
CD 3: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 3 [68:53]
Quartet No. 3 in A major, Op. 4/3, MS30 [21:21]
Quartet No. 7 in E major, MS34 [26:04]
Quartet No. 14 in A major, MS41 [21:27]
CD 4: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 4 [64:03]
Quartet No. 2 in C major, Op. 4/2, MS29 [18:56]
Quartet No. 8 in A major, MS35 [23:03]
Quartet No. 15 in A minor, MS42 [22:04]
CD 5: Complete Quartets for strings and guitar, Vol. 5 [74:17]
Quartet No. 4 in D major, Op.5/1, MS31 [24:21]
Quartet No. 5 in D major, Op. 5/2, MS32 [24:20]
Quartet No. 6 in D minor, Op. 5/3, MS33 [25:36]
CD 6: Complete Trios for strings and guitar [65:29]
Serenata in C major for viola, cello and guitar, MS17 [15:10]
Terzetto Concertante in D major for viola, cello and guitar, MS114 [22:55]
Terzetto in D major for viola, cello and guitar, MS69 [20:12]
Terzetto in A minor for 2 violins and guitar, MS116 [03:03]
Serenata in F major for 2 violins and guitar, MS115 [04:09]
CD 7: Complete String Quartets, MS20 [64:55]
String Quartet No. 1 (c.1815) [19:02]
String Quartet No. 2 (c.1815) [23:00]
String Quartet No. 3 (c.1815) [22:53]
CD 8: Works for violin/s and cello [67:00]
In cor più non mi sento, theme and variations for two violins and cello, [08:15]
Three Duets for violin and cello:
Duet No.1 [09:13]
Duet No.2 [09:49]
Duet No.3 [09:21]
21 Divertimenti carnevaleschi for 2 violins and cello, MS4 [30:22]
CD 9: Three Duets for violin and bassoon, MS130 [50:08]
Duet No.1 [16:57]
Duet No.2 [16:52]
Duet No.3 [16:19]
CD 10: Quattro Notturni a quartetto, MS15 and other works [57:07]
Quattro Notturni a quartetto for two violins, viola and cello, MS15: Notturno No. 1, [06:28]
Notturno No. 2, [07:11]
Notturno No. 3, [04:14]
Notturno No. 4, [03:31]
Quartet No. 7 in E major for two violins, viola and cello, MS34
(transcription from quartet for strings and guitar) [22:49]
Sonata per Rovene per mandolino e chitarra, MS14 [02:56]
Serenata per mandolino e chitarra, MS16 [02:53]
Minuetto per l’amandorlino per mandolino solo, MS106 [07:05]
Performers Quartetto Paganini: Bruno Pignata (violin), Lorenzo Lugli (viola), Paola Mosca (cello), Giuseppe Briasco (guitar) (CDs 1-3). Quartetto Paganini: Bruno Pignata (violin), Ernest Braucher (viola), Riccardo Agosti (cello), Giuseppe Briasco (guitar) (CDs 4 & 5). Dora Bratchkova (violin), Götz Hartmann (violin), Antonello Farulli (viola), Andrea Noferini (cello), Adriano Sebastiani (guitar) (CD 6). Quartetto d’archi Paganini: Bruno Pignata (violin), Gian Luca Allocco (violin), Ernest Braucher (viola), Dario De Stefano (cello) (CD 7). Stefan Milenkovich (violin), Riccardo Agosti (cello), Pier Domenico Sommati (second violin) (CD 8). Salvatore Accardo (violin), Claudio Gonella (bassoon) (CD 9). Quartetto d’archi Paganini: Bruno Pignata (violin), Gian Luca Allocco (violin), Ernest Braucher (viola), Dario De Stefano (cello), Dorina Frati (Genoese mandolin), Piera Dadomo (guitar) (CD 10).
Schenck: The Nymphs Of The Rhine Vol 1 / Les Voix Humaines
Naxos
CD
$19.99
Jan 01, 2001
What's a critic supposed to do? The last thing you want is to go around just handing out top ratings, but what choice do you have when you hear a disc such as this one? On the surface it's got very little going for it--obscure repertoire, esoteric instruments, and it's chamber music to boot! And for the whole disc, all you hear is two solo bass violas da gamba--no orchestra, no keyboard, no exotic winds or percussion. But I'm willing to bet that if you hear this, if you have even the remotest appreciation for beautiful melody, for the richly-colored, reedy sonority of ideally matched stringed instruments, and a fascination with the essence of chamber music--a real dialogue between players--you will be pleased and happily surprised. It's not Bach or Marais, and it's not masterpiece-caliber music, but these six sonatas by 17th-century Dutch-born composer Johannes Schenck (1660-c. 1712) show an unusually accomplished facility for dramatic, interactive part-writing as well as a thorough command of the gamba's technical limits and possibilities. Schenck was a virtuoso player himself (he was one of the many stars at the Düsseldorf court from about 1696 until his death), and the two performers on this recording, members of the Quebec-based Les Voix Humaines, not only grasp the music's considerable technical demands, but fully embrace its more or less free-flowing style, weaving and tossing and shaping their lines, playing with and against each other in a spirited, sometimes improvisatory-like conversation. Le Nymphe di Rheno (The Nymphs of the Rhine) is the title of Schenck's Op. 8 collection of 12 sonatas of which half are presented on this Volume 1. I'm actually looking forward to more of this music from these very fine musicians on Volume 2. And the full-bodied sound makes the whole thing just about perfect. --David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
British Cello Sonatas, Vol. 2 / Handy, Walsh
Lyrita
CD
$20.99
Feb 03, 2023
In her A minor Sonata, Op.5, as in her earlier Sonata in C minor for cello and piano (1880), Ethel Smyth favors expressivity over virtuosity, emphasizing the cello’s warm and lyrical tone. The piano enjoys a key role in all three movements and is often invited to present the chief subject matter rather than merely playing a supporting role accompanying the cello line. One of Delius’s most satisfying chamber works, the Cello Sonata is distinguished by the expressive power of its material. Both instruments enter at the same time, the cello unfolding a songlike, long-limbed line, while the piano presents the main idea. A second key theme, introduced by the cello over the piano’s rippling, arpeggiated chords, is more forthright and sharply defined. An unattributed review of Gibbs’s Cello Sonata in E published in The Musical Times in 1953, found it to be ‘an ideal piece of work for cellists who want something contemporary on which to develop their technique, for its difficulties are of the sort which repays practice’. Thanks to this recording of the work more than seventy years after its completion, contemporary listeners now have an opportunity to appreciate its melodic strength, understated formal artistry and grateful writing for both instruments. Britten’s Cello Sonata is a challenging, bravura piece that benefits immeasurably from the natural affinity between composer and cellist Mstislav Rostropovich. The relationship would inspire Britten to produce four more major works for Rostropovich who wrote of the work, ‘This is a sonata full of surprises, innovations for any cellist, gifts for the musician flowing freely from the horn of plenty. We meet not merely a novelty in finger-work but, what is most important, a new kind of expressive and profound dramatic composition.’
Music for a Viennese Salon / Night Music
Avie Records
CD
$9.99
$19.99
Save 50%
Aug 07, 2020
Philadelphia-based period-instrument ensemble Night Music re-creates an afternoon of music making from October 1801 at the Austrian capital’s Palais Arnstein, with a flamboyant Quintet for flute and strings by Joseph Kraus, a duo by Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf for the unusual combination of viola and double bass, and a chamber arrangement – by the impresario Johann Peter Salomon utilizing the same instrumentation as the Kraus Quintet – of perhaps the most notorious of symphonic surprises. NIGHT MUSIC is a Philadelphia-based chamber ensemble dedicated to exploring and performing music of the Revolutionary era, roughly 1760 to 1825. Their repertory ranges from duos and trios to large-scale chamber works combining strings and winds, such as the imaginative symphony arrangements that were so popular around 1800, to concertos, cantatas, and concert arias. The 2019-2020 season highlights include guest appearances at Kenyon College and the University of Pennsylvania’s “Music at the Pavilion” Series. Recent engagements include the PhilaLandmarks Early Music Concert Series and the Early Music at St. James series in Lancaster.
REVIEW:
The Kraus Flute Quintet makes an excellent opening, likely to make you wonder why we don’t hear more of this Swedish composer’s music. Although the flute is first among equals here, it’s by no means a showy piece for a soloist. Night Music perfectly integrate flute and strings, and the recording is also very well integrated.
Is Salomon’s arrangement of Haydn's ‘Surprise’ Symphony equally worthy of recording? The music makes a good effect, charming music at this scale, receiving a charming performance; as in the Kraus, the flautist and the engineers don’t allow the instrument to dominate. With such small forces, however, the feature which earned the work its nickname, the sudden change from quiet to loud in the andante second movement, designed ‘to make the ladies jump’ – Beecham used to bring it off especially well – doesn’t quite come off, despite a claim to the contrary in the booklet. That said, this is an enjoyable work in its own inevitably diminished right.
I can’t claim great music status for the Dittersdorf Duo, but it, too, receives a performance which brings out its attractions, and the recording captures the unusual sound of the combination very effectively.
– MusicWeb International
Chicago Clarinet Classics / John Bruce Yeh
Cedille
CD
$19.99
Mar 10, 2023
John Bruce Yeh, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s celebrated assistant principal clarinet and solo E-flat clarinet for over 40 years, headlines a program of lyrical and engaging chamber and solo works by noteworthy Windy City composers of the past and present, including three world-premiere recordings. Yeh, with Patrick Godon, the Chicago Symphony’s principal keyboardist, and freelance clarinetist Teresa Reilly, who performs with the CSO at home and on tour, presents mid-20th-century works by Alexander Tcherepnin and Leo Sowerby, a late-century work by Robert Muczynski, and recent pieces by Stacy Garrop, Shulamit Ran, and clarinetist Reilly.
World-premiere recordings include the album’s centerpiece, Sowerby’s witty and inventive 1938 Sonata for Clarinet and Piano; Ran’s tender, heartfelt Spirit for solo B-flat Clarinet; and Reilly’s The Forgiveness Train for two clarinets, an insistently rhythmic, pandemic-fueled dreamscape about personal peril amid natural beauty. Garrop’s dramatic Phoenix Rising — a world-premiere recording of the version for clarinet — depicts the fiery death and triumphant rebirth of the Phoenix of Greek and Egyptian myth. The album opens with Tcherepnin’s vivacious Sonata in one movement for clarinet and piano. Muczynski’s Time Pieces for Clarinet and Piano, a popular repertoire staple, brings the program to a brilliant close.
REVIEWS:
John Bruce Yeh, longtime clarinetist with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, has commissioned various contemporary works, several of which are heard here. One, Teresa Reilly’s The Forgiveness Train, is a duet for two clarinets, in which Yeh is joined by Reilly, his spouse. It is quite an effective bespoke work, with constantly absorbing contrasts in tone between the two clarinets. Yeh is also persuasive in the demanding Spirit for solo B flat clarinet of Shulamit Ran. There are older works, including the Time Pieces for clarinet and piano, Op. 43, of Robert Muczynski, the only piece in the whole bunch that has any kind of currency on the concert stage. Listeners may be surprised to note the presence of the Clarinet Sonata in one movement of Alexander Tcherepnin on the program, but he lived and taught in Chicago in his later years. Is there a consistent Chicago thread connecting these composers? Maybe not, but the program has a certain consistency, and it is beautifully played by one of the world’s leading orchestral clarinetists.
-- AllMusic.com (James Manheim)
John Bruce Yeh (b. 1957) is now the longest-serving clarinetist in CSO history, so it is not surprising that a series of events including being asked by the Chicago-based Cedille label about recording Leo Sowerby’s Wind Quintet would eventually lead to this album.
In the course of researching Sowerby, Yeh discovered his Sonata, a large, four-movement work that forms the centerpiece of this album. It is a solidly entertaining work; given that it was first published in 1944. While doing his research, Yeh next discovered the Tcherepnin Sonata, the sprightly little piece that leads off the program with a burst of joyous energy.
Although the whole album is enjoyable, especially if you are happen to be as big a fool for a clarinet as I am other highlights include the three pieces by women composers: Stacy Garrop’s colorful and evocative Phoenix Rising, in which Yeh is able to produce some startling tones from his instrument; Shulamit Ran’s Spirit, dedicated to a dear friend of the composer and expressing a wide range of emotion; and Teresa Reilly’s Train of Forgiveness, on which Yeh and Reilly play together, clearly enjoying the opportunity.
Don’t let the fact that this is music from the 20th and 21st centuries from composers with names that may be unfamiliar give the idea that this music must be harsh and forbidding. It is, rather, music that is enticing to the ear. Not syrupy sweet, but rather thoughtful and enduring. There are liner notes with helpful essays on the music and background information about the performers, and the sonics are up to the usual high Cedille standard.
-- Classical Candor
Taneyev: Violin Sonata, Piano Music / Olga Solovieva, Et Al
Naxos
CD
$19.99
Oct 27, 2009
TANEYEV Violin Sonata in a. 1 Theme and Variations in C. Repose. Scherzos: in d; in g; in e?; in C; in F. Prelude in F. Quadrille. Andantino semplice. Prelude and Fugue in g?, op. 29. Romance, op. 26/6 (arr. Feigin) 1 • Olga Solovieva (pn); Ivan Peshkov (vn) 1 • NAXOS 8.557804 (72:41)
After several decades in the wilderness, Sergey Ivanovich Taneyev (1856–1915) is enjoying somewhat of a comeback, with a number of recent recordings introducing him anew to audiences that may have known his name but have heard little of his music. With Nikolai Rubinstein as his piano teacher and Tchaikovsky as his instructor in composition, Taneyev graduated from the Moscow Conservatory with honors. He made his concert debut in Moscow in 1875 playing Brahms’s D-Minor Concerto, and the following year he toured Russia as accompanist to the great violinist Leopold Auer.
Unfortunately for Taneyev, a dyed-in-the-wool musical conservative who distinguished himself as a performing artist in the works of Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, and who, as a composer, cast his countenance ever further West and further back than Tchaikovsky, becoming an expert in the techniques of 15th-century vocal polyphony and 16th-century counterpoint, he ran afoul of his Russian nationalist contemporaries. No love was lost between them. Taneyev was disdainful of the “Mighty Handful,” publicly reproaching Balakirev, calling Borodin “a clever dilettante,” and remarking that Mussorgsky made him laugh. He was a bit more deferential towards Rimsky-Korsakov, respecting the composer of Scheherazade for his serious study of counterpoint.
Taneyev’s personality and outlook are perhaps a bit easier to understand when one realizes that he was, in his own mind, anyway, an unfairly untitled aristocrat. Coming from a wealthy family, he enjoyed the resources to pursue his interests in science, history, mathematics, and philosophy. Traveling extensively, he rubbed elbows with literary figures such as Zola and Flaubert, and with musical celebrities such as Franck and Saint-Saëns. Taneyev’s attitude towards the progressive composers and modern music of his day was not dissimilar from that of his older but longer-lived French contemporary, Saint-Saëns; both abhorred what they saw as unschooled, undisciplined dilettantism in any field of endeavor, but especially in music and the arts. When Tchaikovsky left his position at the Moscow Conservatory in 1878, Taneyev replaced him; during his tenure there, Scriabin, Rachmaninoff, Gliere, and Medtner, among others, benefitted from Taneyev’s teaching, though each went his own way once out from under his influence.
The five scherzos for solo piano on this CD, written between 1874 and 1875, are asterisked as being world premiere recordings. And grateful we should be to pianist Olga Solovieva and Naxos for outing them, for they are gem-like beauties, which, in melodic and harmonic vocabulary, are heavily indebted, according to note author Anastasia Belina, to Schumann and Tchaikovsky.
The major work on the program, Taneyev’s 1911 A-Minor Violin Sonata, carries the subtitle, “Of medium difficulty.” The piece was new to me, though there is another recent recording of it listed on the Northern Flowers label. Melodically, as well as in the close exchanges and echoing back and forth of material, the writing bears resemblances to the op. 12 violin sonatas of Beethoven, not surprising, given Taneyev’s Classical leanings and his touring with Auer. Based on the hearing of it—I don’t have the score—I’m fairly confident in saying that the piece is technically easier to play than the Beethoven sonatas. Filled with charming melodies for the violin and delightful effects in the piano part, Taneyev’s Sonata would make a wonderful work for any moderately advanced violin student.
Though Naxos is not claiming premiere recording status for the C-Major Theme and Variations, this is the only current listing I find for it. The piece is a student work dated 1874. Taneyev was 18 at the time and still under Tchaikovsky’s supervision. According to Belina’s note, Taneyev’s exercise was heavily influenced by Tchaikovsky’s “Thème original et variations,” the concluding number in his Six Pieces for Piano , op. 19, which appeared in 1873, the year before Taneyev wrote his work. Evidence in support of Belina’s contention comes in the form of a theme Taneyev borrowed from the finale of Tchaikovsky’s Second String Quartet as a counter-melody in the second variation. The transmigration from Tchaikovsky’s Quartet to Taneyev’s Variations must have happened at the speed of light, for both works were written at virtually the same time.
Of the remaining pieces on the disc for solo piano, the Quadrille is the most interesting and the longest at almost eight minutes. Careful listening reveals that Taneyev did not use the title flippantly or fancifully. He was too much of a stickler for correctitude. Technically and formally, a quadrille is an ancient and very complex dance that became all the rage, alongside the waltz craze, in 19th-century Vienna. If written according to the Viennese form, which Taneyev’s is, the dance is comprised of six sections: (1) an open rondo-form, the “Pantalon,” in 2/4 or 6/8 time; (2) the “Été,” always in 2/4; (3) the “Poule,” a closed rondo form, always in 6/8; (4) the “Trénis,” a mirrored binary form (A-B-B-A); (5) the “Pastourelle,” a modified rondo, always in 2/4; and (6) “Finale,” a double ternary form (AA-BB-AA) in 2/4 time in which each statement of the theme is eight bars in length. It’s fascinating to listen to the precision with which Taneyev adheres to the formal scheme in his whirligig Quadrille.
Finally, there is the Romance adapted for violin and piano from the composer’s song cycle, Immortelles . The appearance of the right-hand piano’s notes on the page is alleged to resemble the stalactites of the song’s title, “Stalaktitï.” While there is a static “dripping-tears” character to the piece, I wouldn’t put too much stock in the analogy, especially if you, like me, associate stalactites with the freakish icicle-like formations found in cold limestone caves. Taneyev’s Romance may be tearful, even sentimental, but it’s heartwarming in the same way that the fourth in the set of Dvo?ák’s Four Romantic Pieces , op. 75, is. In fact, Taneyev’s Romance bears a striking resemblance to the Dvo?ák.
This is a thoroughly winning disc. The more of Taneyev’s music I hear, the more I think he has been undeservedly eclipsed by the very dilettantes he despised. He wasn’t a Russian nationalist in the mold of the “Mighty Handful,” but his music may actually be better crafted than theirs; and, to me at least, it’s more appealing than that of some of his more renowned students. Ivan Peshkov is wonderful in the two violin works, and Olga Solovieva, as both soloist and accompanist, is one of the best advocates Taneyev has. Urgently recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
V5: COMPLETE WORKS PIANO TRIO
Challenge Classics
SACD
$20.99
May 22, 2020
In 1799, after having made a name for himself with major compositions, but before finishing his first symphony, Beethoven wrote a work for mixed strings and winds. This piece, the Septet op. 20, would become one of his most popular compositions, with a large number of arrangements, including the one for piano trio on this album. The form is clearly related to the divertimenti by Mozart, with six movements that alternate fast and slow tempos. The appearance of the Triple Concerto on the final disc in this series might surprise some listeners, as it is the only work with orchestra, but this composition has more in common with chamber music than with concertos. It was written in 1805, and it's instrumentation is highly exceptional if not unprecedented altogether. In tone, it is rather a stark contrast from Beethoven's other concertos, which generally contain easily recognizable melodies and strikingly rhythmic material, neither of which are found to a great degree here. Furthermore, the opposition of soloist and orchestra, a central aspect of many solo works with orchestra written up until that point that was the engine behind much of the drama, is also absent, with the orchestra taking a largely subservient role to the three soloists. So, although the work was called a 'Grand Concerto Concertant' when it was published, it really has very little in common with other works with a similar title. The question is whether this piece is a concerto at all, or whether it could be more fruitfully played and judged as a different kind of experimental piece in a more collaborative genre. This disc takes the latter approach, and by contextualizing it in a series of piano trios, it presents this work as Beethoven's most richly instrumented chamber music.
Quantz: Four Concertos / James Galway, Jörg Faerber, Et Al
RCA
CD
$17.99
Jan 11, 2008
Galway is at his engaging best, economical with his very personal vibrato, caressing in the slow movements and sprightly in the fast ones.
Quantz wrote about 300 concertos and 200 chamber works for the flute, more than Vivaldi did for his instrument, the violin and, I venture to guess, more than anyone else for any one instrument. Of course there were two good reasons for it: he was the premier flute virtuoso of his time and was well paid for his duties as flute teacher (with a bonus for each work he wrote) to Frederick the Great at Sanssouci, where the establishment included C. P. E. Bach—who was far less well rewarded. The four concertos recorded here confirm the why of it: Frederick's musical tastes were conservative and better satisfied by Quantz, who only half-released his grip on the Baroque, than by the often wildly experimental Bach. Quantz, faithful to the four-movement format in his trio sonatas, followed Vivaldi's three-movement, fast-slow-fast example in his concertos. His flanking movements commonly feature five appearances of the ritornello, from the material of which the solo episodes develop; there is little of counterpoint or sophistication of any kind. The thematic material is more galant than baroque, and what there is of the latter is redolent of Vivaldi, not least in the Allegro assai of the G minor Concerto.
These straightforward concertos, 'music for pleasure' as it were, spring no surprises—which no doubt pleased the king, and should likewise please today's lovers of cultured 'easy listening'. Galway is at his engaging best, economical with his very personal vibrato, caressing in the slow movements and sprightly in the fast ones. The Wurttemberg CO, with the friendly sound of the harpsichord nicely audible in this well-balanced recording, share Galway's virtues in these luculent and stylish performances.'
John Duarte, Gramophone [11/1991]
Quantz wrote about 300 concertos and 200 chamber works for the flute, more than Vivaldi did for his instrument, the violin and, I venture to guess, more than anyone else for any one instrument. Of course there were two good reasons for it: he was the premier flute virtuoso of his time and was well paid for his duties as flute teacher (with a bonus for each work he wrote) to Frederick the Great at Sanssouci, where the establishment included C. P. E. Bach—who was far less well rewarded. The four concertos recorded here confirm the why of it: Frederick's musical tastes were conservative and better satisfied by Quantz, who only half-released his grip on the Baroque, than by the often wildly experimental Bach. Quantz, faithful to the four-movement format in his trio sonatas, followed Vivaldi's three-movement, fast-slow-fast example in his concertos. His flanking movements commonly feature five appearances of the ritornello, from the material of which the solo episodes develop; there is little of counterpoint or sophistication of any kind. The thematic material is more galant than baroque, and what there is of the latter is redolent of Vivaldi, not least in the Allegro assai of the G minor Concerto.
These straightforward concertos, 'music for pleasure' as it were, spring no surprises—which no doubt pleased the king, and should likewise please today's lovers of cultured 'easy listening'. Galway is at his engaging best, economical with his very personal vibrato, caressing in the slow movements and sprightly in the fast ones. The Wurttemberg CO, with the friendly sound of the harpsichord nicely audible in this well-balanced recording, share Galway's virtues in these luculent and stylish performances.'
John Duarte, Gramophone [11/1991]
BEETHOVEN: DIABELLI VARIATIONS
ONYX CLASSICS
CD
$20.17
Sep 29, 2023
In 1819 the publisher and composer Anton Diabelli invited 50 Austrian composers to write one variation a short waltz he had composed. He specified that it take up just one sheet (which he supplied) and this already contained his waltz. Composers such as Czerny, Moscheles, Hummel, Kalkbrenner, Liszt (just 10 years old), Schubert and Beethoven were among those invited. All except one provided their contribution. That one was Beethoven, who, electrified by Diabelli's Waltz produced a massive work comprising 33 variations which was completed after the composer had completed the Missa Solemnis, and the last three piano sonatas. He delivered it to Diabelli in 1823, making it his final masterpiece. This huge work is one of the peaks of the repertoire for solo piano, it still baffles the listener, it still has the capacity to reveal more than we thought we knew about it. It makes extreme demands upon the performer and the listener, and in a great performance never ceases to surprise and shock the listener.
Schulhoff: Piano Works Vol 2 / Caroline Weichert
Grand Piano
CD
$9.99
$19.99
Save 50%
Jun 25, 2013
Schulhoff was one of many composers who took up the challenge to embrace jazz and to incorporate it into their music. He was one of the most successful at writing works that were no mere pastiches but genuinely jazz-inspired - ones that could just as easily have come from the pens of people like Scott Joplin or Billy Mayerl.
Fünf Pittoresken (Five Pictures) date from as far back as 1919 and are remarkable for their wit and experimental nature. The first two entitled Foxtrott and Ragtime ‘do exactly what it says on the tin’ and are clearly influenced by Scott Joplin whose Maple Leaf Rag had been such a hit in the early years of the twentieth century. That they were penned by a white Jewish Central European is surprising enough but they are convincing in their recreation of true jazz rhythms that one would normally ascribe solely to a black composer such as Joplin.
One must surely conclude that Schulhoff had his tongue firmly in his cheek when he ‘created’ the third of these pictures since it is entitled In futurum. It consists of 85 seconds of total silence which anticipates John Cage’s notorious 4'33" (by 33 years) in which a pianist sits at the piano with orchestra and no-one does anything for that precise length of time. Cage, a pioneer in indeterminacy in music, claimed that its motivation was an attempt to demonstrate that there are sounds to be heard in a concert hall full of audience even when no music is played. It will be different each time the ‘work’ is ‘performed’ with different ambient sounds occurring as well as audience breathing and the odd cough and even, perhaps, extraneous sounds from outside the building. Schulhoff’s ‘work’ may also ‘benefit’ from the same effect in a similar venue but with the technical expertise that comes into play in the recording studio such possibilities are lost. Before I read the booklet I thought I had received a rogue copy and contacted the distributors who tried 6 copies themselves before contacting the manufacturer and label owner who told them that it was not a fault. Note to self: when in doubt read the booklet first! ‘Normal service was resumed’ for Pictures 4 and 5 which were just as refreshingly jazzy as the first two.
The Piano Sonata No.2 is in a different league owing more to the French school of Ravel than to the jazzmen of the USA. A wonderfully restrained and understated first movement gives way to a mercurial second in scherzo form. The third is beautifully appealing and gentle “exuding an air of calm contentment” as the booklet notes so aptly put it. The sonata closes with a fourth movement that once again recalls Ravel and shows that Schulhoff was someone whose writing is of equal interest to that of the great French composer.
The two piano pieces that follow were composed in 1936 when the threat of Nazism was clear. The first is entitled Optimistic Composition while the second is entitled The Czech Workers and presents a militant stance that must surely be read as a challenge to the threat from the West. Schulhoff, as a communist, hoped that this threat would be defeated by the combined might of working people everywhere.
Schulhoff’s Musik für Klavier in vier teilen dating from 1920 takes us back to the days when the influence of jazz in his music was at its strongest. While this work is not overtly as jazzy as the Five Pictures that opened the disc its influence can be detected nevertheless. The second movement which is in the form of a lengthy set of ten variations is particularly affecting.
The last work on the disc is Esquisses de Jazz which was written in 1927. It is Schulhoff’s most well known work and though its subtitle is Six pièces faciles pour piano the word facile translates as easy since there is nothing ‘facile’ about it. These are piano pieces heavily influenced by jazz though they do not attempt to be jazz pieces per se; they are seen through a jazz prism while retaining a distinctly Schulhoff stamp of innovation. The one entitled Charleston is a particular case in point.
In recent years a lot more of Schulhoff’s works have been appearing on disc and about time too for they increasingly reveal a huge talent across a wide range of compositions that includes six completed symphonies. It is all the more sad to realise what could have been created subsequently had he not been cruelly arrested and sent to a concentration camp in Bavaria. There he is believed to have died from TB at the early age of 48.
This is the second disc of Schulhoff’s piano works to appear on the Grand Piano label both played by Caroline Weichert. Her deft touch and sympathetic approach enables the music to weave its spell. She has also released another disc of Grainger’s piano music for the label and previous releases on the Koch Schwann label show that she prefers to concentrate on lesser-known composers. I find this refreshing since there remains so much wonderful music to be discovered. We need people like her to help in that process.
This is a fascinating disc of music that is rarely heard and when as lovingly played as it is here deserves a wide listenership.
-- Steve Arloff, MusicWeb International
Fünf Pittoresken (Five Pictures) date from as far back as 1919 and are remarkable for their wit and experimental nature. The first two entitled Foxtrott and Ragtime ‘do exactly what it says on the tin’ and are clearly influenced by Scott Joplin whose Maple Leaf Rag had been such a hit in the early years of the twentieth century. That they were penned by a white Jewish Central European is surprising enough but they are convincing in their recreation of true jazz rhythms that one would normally ascribe solely to a black composer such as Joplin.
One must surely conclude that Schulhoff had his tongue firmly in his cheek when he ‘created’ the third of these pictures since it is entitled In futurum. It consists of 85 seconds of total silence which anticipates John Cage’s notorious 4'33" (by 33 years) in which a pianist sits at the piano with orchestra and no-one does anything for that precise length of time. Cage, a pioneer in indeterminacy in music, claimed that its motivation was an attempt to demonstrate that there are sounds to be heard in a concert hall full of audience even when no music is played. It will be different each time the ‘work’ is ‘performed’ with different ambient sounds occurring as well as audience breathing and the odd cough and even, perhaps, extraneous sounds from outside the building. Schulhoff’s ‘work’ may also ‘benefit’ from the same effect in a similar venue but with the technical expertise that comes into play in the recording studio such possibilities are lost. Before I read the booklet I thought I had received a rogue copy and contacted the distributors who tried 6 copies themselves before contacting the manufacturer and label owner who told them that it was not a fault. Note to self: when in doubt read the booklet first! ‘Normal service was resumed’ for Pictures 4 and 5 which were just as refreshingly jazzy as the first two.
The Piano Sonata No.2 is in a different league owing more to the French school of Ravel than to the jazzmen of the USA. A wonderfully restrained and understated first movement gives way to a mercurial second in scherzo form. The third is beautifully appealing and gentle “exuding an air of calm contentment” as the booklet notes so aptly put it. The sonata closes with a fourth movement that once again recalls Ravel and shows that Schulhoff was someone whose writing is of equal interest to that of the great French composer.
The two piano pieces that follow were composed in 1936 when the threat of Nazism was clear. The first is entitled Optimistic Composition while the second is entitled The Czech Workers and presents a militant stance that must surely be read as a challenge to the threat from the West. Schulhoff, as a communist, hoped that this threat would be defeated by the combined might of working people everywhere.
Schulhoff’s Musik für Klavier in vier teilen dating from 1920 takes us back to the days when the influence of jazz in his music was at its strongest. While this work is not overtly as jazzy as the Five Pictures that opened the disc its influence can be detected nevertheless. The second movement which is in the form of a lengthy set of ten variations is particularly affecting.
The last work on the disc is Esquisses de Jazz which was written in 1927. It is Schulhoff’s most well known work and though its subtitle is Six pièces faciles pour piano the word facile translates as easy since there is nothing ‘facile’ about it. These are piano pieces heavily influenced by jazz though they do not attempt to be jazz pieces per se; they are seen through a jazz prism while retaining a distinctly Schulhoff stamp of innovation. The one entitled Charleston is a particular case in point.
In recent years a lot more of Schulhoff’s works have been appearing on disc and about time too for they increasingly reveal a huge talent across a wide range of compositions that includes six completed symphonies. It is all the more sad to realise what could have been created subsequently had he not been cruelly arrested and sent to a concentration camp in Bavaria. There he is believed to have died from TB at the early age of 48.
This is the second disc of Schulhoff’s piano works to appear on the Grand Piano label both played by Caroline Weichert. Her deft touch and sympathetic approach enables the music to weave its spell. She has also released another disc of Grainger’s piano music for the label and previous releases on the Koch Schwann label show that she prefers to concentrate on lesser-known composers. I find this refreshing since there remains so much wonderful music to be discovered. We need people like her to help in that process.
This is a fascinating disc of music that is rarely heard and when as lovingly played as it is here deserves a wide listenership.
-- Steve Arloff, MusicWeb International
Bach: Clavier Ubung Vol 1 / Benjamin Alard
Alpha
CD
$29.99
May 11, 2010
No entries show up in the Fanfare Archive for Benjamin Alard, which I suppose shouldn’t be surprising, since counting this new release his discography numbers only two recordings according to ArkivMusic; the other, also on Alpha, is a CD of Bach’s trio sonatas for organ. His official bio, however, cites two other CDs on a label, Editions Hortus, that may have limited distribution outside of France.
Born in 1985, the French Alard is both an award-winning harpsichordist and organist who studied at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. At 25, he has already performed with leading period-instrument ensembles, such as La Petite Bande under Sigiswald Kuijken and Capriccio Stravagante under Skip Sempé, and he has established himself as a leading presence as a keyboard artist on the early-music scene, participating in a number of international festivals.
Going up against established masters in this repertoire—and for apples-to-apples comparison I cite only harpsichordists—such as Christophe Rousset, Pieter-Jan Belder, Ralph Kirkpatrick, Gustav Leonhardt, Trevor Pinnock, Igor Kipnis, and Blandine Verlet—the young Alard has stones; you’ve got to give him that. The question is does he have the goods to pull it off? And the answer, in a word, is “yes.”
The six keyboard partitas that comprise Part I of Bach’s Clavier-Übung (Keyboard Practice) in its totality are arguably the pinnacle of the composer’s works for solo harpsichord. Though they are among Bach’s earliest pieces to be published (they appeared in print between 1726 and 1730), they are actually the last of his three sets of keyboard suites to be written. (They were composed between 1725 and 1730–31.) The English Suites were composed sometime between 1715 and 1720, and the French Suites, between 1722 and 1725. We may therefore assume that the partitas are a summation, up to that time, of Bach’s compositional style and technique as applied to the harpsichord, for which they were written.
Speculation has it that Bach intended to write a seventh partita, perhaps as a tribute to his predecessor in Leipzig, Johann Kuhnau, who had published two volumes of his own Neue Clavier-Übung, each containing seven partitas. Bach’s choice of keys for his six partitas does suggest a planned seventh that would have had to be in F Major to complete the scheme; indeed, F Major is the key of the Italian Concerto that opens the Clavier-Übung, part II. Is it possible that the movements of the Italian Concerto would have been incorporated into the seventh, missing, partita? It’s an interesting theory.
In three out of the six partitas, Bach pretty much follows standard operating procedure vis-à-vis succession of movements. All six partitas, without exception, begin with an introductory movement, though fancifully, perhaps, Bach calls each by a different name: Praeludium, Sinfonia, Fantasia, Ouverture, Praeambulum, and Toccata. These are followed in Nos. 1, 3, and 5 by the customary stylized dance movements: Allemande, Courante (or Corrente, depending on whether Bach was in French or Italian mood), and Sarabande. Again, in all six partitas, one or more take-your-pick dance movements, such as Menuet, Gavotte, Passepied, etc., are inserted after the Sarabande. And in all but No. 2, the partitas end with the customary concluding Gigue. But No. 2, one of the three “irregulars,” ends with a movement Bach calls Capriccio, which is not in the usual 6/8 or 12/8 gigue meter, but in 2/4, so it’s not just another gigue by a whimsical name.
In the two remaining “irregular” partitas, Nos. 4 and 6, Bach gets cutesy with the standard layout of movements, inserting an Aria or Air in between the Courante and Sarabande, so that we end up with insertions both before the Sarabande and after it. To mix it up further, in No. 4, Bach calls his Courante by its French name, but the Aria that follows it by its Italian name; whereas in No. 6, he reverses himself, calling his Corrente by its Italian name and his Air by its French name. Whether this has some special significance or not, I don’t know, but is it too much to imagine that Bach wasn’t the stern wig he’s often portrayed as, and that he was just being mischievous? The aforementioned Capriccio movement offers ample evidence of the composer’s off-the-wall humor; it’s a real ear-tickler.
A final footnote to this whole business is that at one point the partitas came close to being called German Suites to complement the already written English and French Suites, which, technically speaking, are no more English or French, respectively, than are the partitas German. And who would know better than Christophe Rousset? Harpsichordist, Baroque music specialist, and Frenchman, he has observed that all of Bach’s keyboard suites follow a largely Italian convention.
Now, back in Fanfare 27:4, Patrick Meanor reviewed a recording of the partitas on the Satirino label performed by harpsichordist Kenneth Weiss. That was in 2004. Six years later, as inexplicably but often happens, the same album was sent to the magazine to be reviewed again, and this time, as recently as 33:5, it was assigned to Christopher Brodersen. The American-born Weiss has long been active on the Parisian period-instrument scene, having collaborated with William Christie and Les Arts Florissants for many years. In any case, both Meanor and Brodersen found much to rave about in Weiss’s readings, which the harpsichordist performs on a copy of a Gottfried Silbermann instrument built by Anthony Sidey. I missed Meanor’s earlier review, but based on Brodersen’s glowing account, I decided to acquire the Weiss on my own. Contra my colleagues, I found Sidey’s harpsichord, or Satirino’s recording of it, hard and metallic sounding and fatiguing to listen to. So, only in part for that reason, Weiss’s recording would not have received my recommendation had I reviewed it.
That is not the case with the sound of Alard’s harpsichord, which is also modeled after a German instrument by Sidey. It is captured perfectly at an ideal distance in the ambient and ever so slightly reverberant acoustic of the Chapelle Notre-Dame de Bon-Secours in Paris. Balanced throughout its registers, of crystal clarity in its voicing, and so dulcet of tone is this instrument that I found myself listening, enchanted, to all six partitas straight through without tiring of it.
If Meanor found Weiss’s performances “passionate,” “poignant,” “terrifying,” and “filled with existential dread,” I found them aggressive, driven, and in-your-face—other reasons, in addition to the aforementioned clangorous and clattering sound of the instrument, that Weiss is not to my liking. In contrast, I find Alard’s readings poetic, lyrical, filled with grace, and ultimately sublime. Perhaps it’s the difference between the American in Paris, Weiss, and the patrician elegance and refinement of the natural-born Frenchman, Alard.
In Alard’s playing, I hear a natural and logical connection to, and extension of, François Couperin and the French keyboard tradition, and I find it exquisitely beautiful. The style is manifested in Alard’s exceptionally imaginative, perfectly timed, and delightful agréments that he applies so tastefully in the binary repeats. Even in the fiendishly difficult Capriccio of the C-Minor Partita, which is already wacky enough as is with its oddball dissonances and harmonic excursions, Alard finds the time and space between the notes to add just the right zinger of an embellishment. Just listen to the mordents that trip by at 1:29 and again at 1:33 in the repeat of the A section. But there are other ways to embellish besides adding ornamental notes, and you can hear it in Alard’s playing of the repeated B section. Here the embellishing takes the form of coordinating the right and left hands differently than in the first time through, so that the syncopated and offbeat rhythms in the counterpoint take on a totally different emphasis.
The more I listened to these performances, the more I came to believe that there is as much genius in Alard’s conception of this music as there is in Bach’s creation of it. For me, this is now, and will be for the foreseeable future, the be-all and end-all of Bach keyboard partita recordings. The set is beautifully presented in a four-panel cardboard foldout with detailed, informative notes in French and English and enhanced by a wealth of photographs. If Weiss’s partitas show up on Brodersen’s 2010 Want List, Alard’s may well show up on mine. But whether it does or not (there are always hard choices to make), if you care about Bach on the harpsichord, you must not be without this release for another minute.
-- Jerry Dubins, FANFARE [9/2010]
Born in 1985, the French Alard is both an award-winning harpsichordist and organist who studied at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. At 25, he has already performed with leading period-instrument ensembles, such as La Petite Bande under Sigiswald Kuijken and Capriccio Stravagante under Skip Sempé, and he has established himself as a leading presence as a keyboard artist on the early-music scene, participating in a number of international festivals.
Going up against established masters in this repertoire—and for apples-to-apples comparison I cite only harpsichordists—such as Christophe Rousset, Pieter-Jan Belder, Ralph Kirkpatrick, Gustav Leonhardt, Trevor Pinnock, Igor Kipnis, and Blandine Verlet—the young Alard has stones; you’ve got to give him that. The question is does he have the goods to pull it off? And the answer, in a word, is “yes.”
The six keyboard partitas that comprise Part I of Bach’s Clavier-Übung (Keyboard Practice) in its totality are arguably the pinnacle of the composer’s works for solo harpsichord. Though they are among Bach’s earliest pieces to be published (they appeared in print between 1726 and 1730), they are actually the last of his three sets of keyboard suites to be written. (They were composed between 1725 and 1730–31.) The English Suites were composed sometime between 1715 and 1720, and the French Suites, between 1722 and 1725. We may therefore assume that the partitas are a summation, up to that time, of Bach’s compositional style and technique as applied to the harpsichord, for which they were written.
Speculation has it that Bach intended to write a seventh partita, perhaps as a tribute to his predecessor in Leipzig, Johann Kuhnau, who had published two volumes of his own Neue Clavier-Übung, each containing seven partitas. Bach’s choice of keys for his six partitas does suggest a planned seventh that would have had to be in F Major to complete the scheme; indeed, F Major is the key of the Italian Concerto that opens the Clavier-Übung, part II. Is it possible that the movements of the Italian Concerto would have been incorporated into the seventh, missing, partita? It’s an interesting theory.
In three out of the six partitas, Bach pretty much follows standard operating procedure vis-à-vis succession of movements. All six partitas, without exception, begin with an introductory movement, though fancifully, perhaps, Bach calls each by a different name: Praeludium, Sinfonia, Fantasia, Ouverture, Praeambulum, and Toccata. These are followed in Nos. 1, 3, and 5 by the customary stylized dance movements: Allemande, Courante (or Corrente, depending on whether Bach was in French or Italian mood), and Sarabande. Again, in all six partitas, one or more take-your-pick dance movements, such as Menuet, Gavotte, Passepied, etc., are inserted after the Sarabande. And in all but No. 2, the partitas end with the customary concluding Gigue. But No. 2, one of the three “irregulars,” ends with a movement Bach calls Capriccio, which is not in the usual 6/8 or 12/8 gigue meter, but in 2/4, so it’s not just another gigue by a whimsical name.
In the two remaining “irregular” partitas, Nos. 4 and 6, Bach gets cutesy with the standard layout of movements, inserting an Aria or Air in between the Courante and Sarabande, so that we end up with insertions both before the Sarabande and after it. To mix it up further, in No. 4, Bach calls his Courante by its French name, but the Aria that follows it by its Italian name; whereas in No. 6, he reverses himself, calling his Corrente by its Italian name and his Air by its French name. Whether this has some special significance or not, I don’t know, but is it too much to imagine that Bach wasn’t the stern wig he’s often portrayed as, and that he was just being mischievous? The aforementioned Capriccio movement offers ample evidence of the composer’s off-the-wall humor; it’s a real ear-tickler.
A final footnote to this whole business is that at one point the partitas came close to being called German Suites to complement the already written English and French Suites, which, technically speaking, are no more English or French, respectively, than are the partitas German. And who would know better than Christophe Rousset? Harpsichordist, Baroque music specialist, and Frenchman, he has observed that all of Bach’s keyboard suites follow a largely Italian convention.
Now, back in Fanfare 27:4, Patrick Meanor reviewed a recording of the partitas on the Satirino label performed by harpsichordist Kenneth Weiss. That was in 2004. Six years later, as inexplicably but often happens, the same album was sent to the magazine to be reviewed again, and this time, as recently as 33:5, it was assigned to Christopher Brodersen. The American-born Weiss has long been active on the Parisian period-instrument scene, having collaborated with William Christie and Les Arts Florissants for many years. In any case, both Meanor and Brodersen found much to rave about in Weiss’s readings, which the harpsichordist performs on a copy of a Gottfried Silbermann instrument built by Anthony Sidey. I missed Meanor’s earlier review, but based on Brodersen’s glowing account, I decided to acquire the Weiss on my own. Contra my colleagues, I found Sidey’s harpsichord, or Satirino’s recording of it, hard and metallic sounding and fatiguing to listen to. So, only in part for that reason, Weiss’s recording would not have received my recommendation had I reviewed it.
That is not the case with the sound of Alard’s harpsichord, which is also modeled after a German instrument by Sidey. It is captured perfectly at an ideal distance in the ambient and ever so slightly reverberant acoustic of the Chapelle Notre-Dame de Bon-Secours in Paris. Balanced throughout its registers, of crystal clarity in its voicing, and so dulcet of tone is this instrument that I found myself listening, enchanted, to all six partitas straight through without tiring of it.
If Meanor found Weiss’s performances “passionate,” “poignant,” “terrifying,” and “filled with existential dread,” I found them aggressive, driven, and in-your-face—other reasons, in addition to the aforementioned clangorous and clattering sound of the instrument, that Weiss is not to my liking. In contrast, I find Alard’s readings poetic, lyrical, filled with grace, and ultimately sublime. Perhaps it’s the difference between the American in Paris, Weiss, and the patrician elegance and refinement of the natural-born Frenchman, Alard.
In Alard’s playing, I hear a natural and logical connection to, and extension of, François Couperin and the French keyboard tradition, and I find it exquisitely beautiful. The style is manifested in Alard’s exceptionally imaginative, perfectly timed, and delightful agréments that he applies so tastefully in the binary repeats. Even in the fiendishly difficult Capriccio of the C-Minor Partita, which is already wacky enough as is with its oddball dissonances and harmonic excursions, Alard finds the time and space between the notes to add just the right zinger of an embellishment. Just listen to the mordents that trip by at 1:29 and again at 1:33 in the repeat of the A section. But there are other ways to embellish besides adding ornamental notes, and you can hear it in Alard’s playing of the repeated B section. Here the embellishing takes the form of coordinating the right and left hands differently than in the first time through, so that the syncopated and offbeat rhythms in the counterpoint take on a totally different emphasis.
The more I listened to these performances, the more I came to believe that there is as much genius in Alard’s conception of this music as there is in Bach’s creation of it. For me, this is now, and will be for the foreseeable future, the be-all and end-all of Bach keyboard partita recordings. The set is beautifully presented in a four-panel cardboard foldout with detailed, informative notes in French and English and enhanced by a wealth of photographs. If Weiss’s partitas show up on Brodersen’s 2010 Want List, Alard’s may well show up on mine. But whether it does or not (there are always hard choices to make), if you care about Bach on the harpsichord, you must not be without this release for another minute.
-- Jerry Dubins, FANFARE [9/2010]
Astor Piazzolla: Cafe 1930 - Daniel Matejca, Martin Sulc
Supraphon
CD
$45.99
Oct 02, 2026
Piazzolla in the hands of a new generation - with passion, freedom, and virtuosity. The fourth Supraphon album by the 21-year-old performer Daniel Matejca brings a change of genre. Following virtuosic sonatas by Eugene Ysaÿe (2023), a chamber music album with pianist Jan Schulmeister (Suk, Martinu, Fiser, 2025), and exciting concertos by Shostakovich and Prokofiev with the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra and Tomas Netopil (2025), the focus now turns to tango nuevo, inseparably associated with astor Piazzolla. Besides the Argentine tango, his language as a composer reflects not only the contemporary classical music he studied in Paris under Nadia Boulanger, but also jazz and especially the music of Bach, which Piazzolla played on the bandoneon to the surprise of many people. On a map, Piazzolla would lie along an imaginary axis between Buenos Aires, Paris, and New York. It may well have been this breadth of inspiration that captivated Daniel Matejca, who plays piano and percussion as well as violin (not to mention the wide range of genres he performs) and the exceptional accordion player Martin sulc, whose palette of colours ranges from intimacy to an almost orchestra fullness at times. Their flawless ensemble is a given; what is more striking is the degree of freedom and expressivity they bring to it. Both suites (Suite del angel, Histoire du Tango) contain clearly audible echoes of Piazzolla's studies in Paris. Of course, the album could not omit Ave Maria, Oblivion, Escualo, and Finale, irresistible works that alone would be enough to secure Piazzolla's immortality. This recording by two young musicians captivated by the Argentine legend may well contribute to that lasting legacy.
Fuchs: Serenades Nos. 1 & 2 / Christian Ludwig, Cologne Chamber Orchestra
Naxos
CD
$9.99
$19.99
Save 50%
Mar 29, 2011
Robert Fuchs (1847-1927) is best known today as the composition teacher of Mahler, Sibelius, Enesco, Korngold, Schreker, Zemlinsky, and just about everyone else who happened to be at the Vienna Conservatory from the late 19th century onward. As a composer he earned the respect of Brahms, probably because Brahms didn't feel threatened by him, and was totally forgotten after his death. During his lifetime he was best known for his string serenades, two of which feature on this recording, along with the late (and quite substantial) Andante and Capriccio Op. 63.
Let's get straight to the point: the music is wonderful--gracious, tuneful, not a note too long, and an unalloyed delight from first note to last. Yes, it's not "heavy" or "serious", but really, who cares? If you like Dvorák's or Tchaikovsky's string serenades, or Grieg's Holberg Suite, or Sibelius' Valse triste, then you are going to love this disc. The performances are perfect: flowing, rhythmically clean and snappy, immaculately tuned, and affectionately phrased. It just doesn't get any better, and the sonics are pristine. The Viennese, of course, have always been suckers for light music, but that only made them particularly discerning. They went crazy for Fuchs. Check out this disc and find out why.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
---------------
FUCHS Serenades: No. 1 in D; No. 2 in C. Andante grazioso and Capriccio • Christian Ludwig, cond; Cologne CO • NAXOS 8.572222 (53:52)
His friends called him “Serenaden-Fuchs” (Serenading Fox), a pun on his name, while the sparingly complimentary Brahms praised him as a “splendid musician.” He was Robert Fuchs (1847–1927), an Austrian composer and professor of theory and composition at the Vienna Conservatory whose students comprised an extraordinary roll-call of up-and-coming talents: Enescu, Korngold, Mahler, Melartin, Sibelius, Schmidt, Schreker, Wolf, and Zemlinsky.
As a musical genre the serenade found itself largely neglected after Mozart, at least until Brahms revived it with his two symphonic-scaled serenades in the late 1850s. Despite Mozart’s lending a greater gravity to the form, especially with his so-called “Gran Partita,” the genre continued to carry the stigma of its 18th-century antecedent as a type of lightweight, summer’s eve, al fresco entertainment, at a time when Austro-German Romanticism in particular saw itself as cultural custodian of the serious and the profound. Thus, even after Brahms’s two mid 19th-century examples, it would be another 25 years before composers would enrich the repertoire with serenades that, in content and dimensions, resembled symphonies or symphonic suites in all but name.
When Fuchs came to compose his First Serenade in 1874, his main models were the two efforts by Brahms and the three serenades by Robert Volkmann (1869–70). But by the time he got around to composing his fifth and final serenade in 1894, many masterly and magnificent serenades had already made their way into the world: Dvo?ák (1878), Tchaikovsky (1880), Strauss (1882), Wolf (1887), Suk (1892), and Elgar (1892), and not long after, Reinecke (1898); Dohnányi (1902), Sinding (1902 and 1909), Reger (several between 1904 and 1906), and Stenhammar (1913) would add to the growing list.
If the serenades had been Fuchs’s only contribution to music, it might explain why he virtually vanished from the mainstream almost immediately after his death, even though he’d been highly regarded in his own day. But the fact is that Fuchs worked in all the major musical media and his output, which included symphonies, concertos, a large volume of chamber works, three masses, and two operas, was considerable and diverse. And all of it—at least the works I’ve heard—is nothing but expertly crafted and melodically inspired.
Of Fuchs’s five serenades, the first three are scored for strings only and the fourth adds only two horns to the string ensemble. In the string-only pieces, however, textural richness is achieved through division of parts, so that for much of the time we are hearing six or even seven voices. Sometimes the violas play divided parts; other times, first or second violins are divided; and still other times violins and violas are divided at the same time. This lends both breadth and depth to the writing, allowing for greater fullness and luminosity to the sound as well as greater flexibility to the interplay of voices as they overlap and weave around each other.
As I said, if the serenades were Fuchs’s sole contribution to music, his disappearance from the scene might not be so surprising, for I will be the first to admit that these are not the stuff great reputations are made of. They were popular in their day precisely because they were the popular music of the day. As one listens to these serenades, especially their fast-paced movements, it’s easy to discern how Fuchs’s style was influenced by the polkas and quadrilles of Johann Strauss Jr., another composer, by the way, much admired by Brahms. So associating Fuchs with this type of crowd-pleasing entertainment music is not to denigrate him as a composer. His symphonies, concertos, and chamber works tell us that he was a man of both talent and substance. His serenades are tuneful, occasionally touching, and always enjoyable, reminding me in ways of some of Grieg’s orchestral music, like the Lyric Suite.
In checking all of the usual mail-order sources, I was surprised to find no complete collection of Fuchs’s five serenades. In fact, you would have to hunt down some fairly obscure labels featuring some fairly provincial ensembles to find recordings of Nos. 3 and 5, not to mention other versions besides this one of Nos. 1 and 2. And I had no luck at all finding even a single recording of No. 4. I guess I hadn’t realized when I began this review just how far Fuchs’s serenades had fallen on hard times, for the rest of his output in general is reasonably well represented on disc.
The Andante grazioso and Capriccio that concludes the disc is no insignificant filler. At 17 and a half minutes, it’s longer than the Serenade No. 2, and, written in 1900, it’s a work postdating the last of the composer’s serenades. Harmonically more advanced and complex, and emotionally darker than the serenades, the piece, suggests note author Anthony Short, is an example of Fuchs the teacher being influenced by his students, namely Sibelius.
One can only hope that this new recording of the first two serenades with the Cologne Chamber Orchestra directed by Christian Ludwig is the first in a survey that will bring us the remaining three, for in every respect the performances and recording are excellent. Strongly recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Kuhlau: Piano Sonatinas Op 55 & 88 / Jeno Jandó
Naxos
CD
$9.99
$19.99
Save 50%
Jun 24, 2008
Some delightful piano works in the spirit of Haydn and Mozart.
This release marks another disc in the lengthening series of Kuhlau’s compositions on Naxos.
Kuhlau, born in 1786 to a musician with the German Army, began his musical education in Lüneburg with piano, and also began to compose at that time. Around 1800 he studied with C. F. G. Schwenke, the man who succeeded C. P. E. Bach in the position as Hamburg Stadtkantor. By 1804, Kuhlau was in the process of launching his career as a pianist in earnest. Blind in one eye since childhood, Kuhlau fled to Copenhagen under an alias to avoid mandatory military service; his half-blindness evidently did not compel the authorities to exempt him. He eventually became a naturalised citizen of Denmark and established his base there for the rest of his life.
Known to this reviewer primarily for his compositions for flute — various discs have been released recently of his flute sonatas and trios on Naxos and other labels. Kuhlau also produced a number of other pieces, primarily for chamber ensembles.
The works on offer on the present disc are short and charming, with most movements lasting no longer than three minutes. Jandó does right, I think, in keeping the performances simple and straightforward. The object of these pieces is not to impress or give a listener a good deal of food for thought. These are meant primarily to entertain. They are likely to be familiar to piano students worldwide. There isn’t much here that would surprise the listener, but there are a few moments of particular interest, such as the unexpected similarity of the opening movement of the Sonatina in A minor, Op. 88 No. 3 to Beethoven’s 1810 Für Elise. Another standout is the opening Allegro maestoso of the Op. 55 No. 6 Sonatina in C which, with its length of just over seven minutes, allows for a bit more mulling over of its thematic material.
The recording aesthetic for this disc is just what one would expect from Naxos: warm ambience without losing presence or definition. Jandó gives these pieces a clean and clear performance. Quite a pleasant disc for casual listening.
-- David Blomenberg, MusicWeb International
This release marks another disc in the lengthening series of Kuhlau’s compositions on Naxos.
Kuhlau, born in 1786 to a musician with the German Army, began his musical education in Lüneburg with piano, and also began to compose at that time. Around 1800 he studied with C. F. G. Schwenke, the man who succeeded C. P. E. Bach in the position as Hamburg Stadtkantor. By 1804, Kuhlau was in the process of launching his career as a pianist in earnest. Blind in one eye since childhood, Kuhlau fled to Copenhagen under an alias to avoid mandatory military service; his half-blindness evidently did not compel the authorities to exempt him. He eventually became a naturalised citizen of Denmark and established his base there for the rest of his life.
Known to this reviewer primarily for his compositions for flute — various discs have been released recently of his flute sonatas and trios on Naxos and other labels. Kuhlau also produced a number of other pieces, primarily for chamber ensembles.
The works on offer on the present disc are short and charming, with most movements lasting no longer than three minutes. Jandó does right, I think, in keeping the performances simple and straightforward. The object of these pieces is not to impress or give a listener a good deal of food for thought. These are meant primarily to entertain. They are likely to be familiar to piano students worldwide. There isn’t much here that would surprise the listener, but there are a few moments of particular interest, such as the unexpected similarity of the opening movement of the Sonatina in A minor, Op. 88 No. 3 to Beethoven’s 1810 Für Elise. Another standout is the opening Allegro maestoso of the Op. 55 No. 6 Sonatina in C which, with its length of just over seven minutes, allows for a bit more mulling over of its thematic material.
The recording aesthetic for this disc is just what one would expect from Naxos: warm ambience without losing presence or definition. Jandó gives these pieces a clean and clear performance. Quite a pleasant disc for casual listening.
-- David Blomenberg, MusicWeb International
Demars: Pieces de Clavecin
Brilliant Classics
CD
$9.99
$12.99
Save 25%
Apr 18, 2025
A new recording, unique in the catalogue, of the First (and only surviving) book of keyboard works by Charles de Mars (1702-1774). Compared to many other composers of his era, we know a good deal about the life of de Mars (alternatively known as Demars), making it all the more surprising that the present collection represents all the music of his to have come down to us. He was born to a wax merchant in Sezanne, a small town on the border between the French regions of Brie and Champagne. Several of his relatives were musicians, organists in particular, such as his two brothers. Indeed, we can trace more than 12 members of the de Mars/Tourneur dynasty as organists all over France. Again, the curiosity is that none of their compositions have survived, though they would have written music for their posts just as Charles de Mars did. There is a Handelian flavour to the harmony of the four suites in de Mars's volume, which was published in 1735 and therefore could conceivably have been written with awareness of the older composer's Eight Great Suites for harpsichord. Many features of the volume make it a singular body of work in the French harpsichord tradition. de Mars eschews descriptive titles for individual movements, and occasionally prescribes the performer to play with 'notes egales', and therefore specifically not in the inegale style which we associate with French keyboard composers of the day. As a specialist in this field of unfamiliar keyboard repertoire from the 17th and 18th centuries, with an impressive catalogue of Brilliant Classics albums already to his credit, Simone Pierini has explored the life and work of de Mars for himself, and produced an authoritative booklet essay to accompany his new recording of the Pieces de Clavecin. The Fanfare reviewer of his 3CD album of keyboard sonatas by Helene de Montgeroult considered it 'a major addition to the catalogue', noting that Pierini 'plays with tremendous energy and conviction.' - The Pieces de clavecin by Charles de Mars (1707-1774) are written in the rich tradition of French Baroque harpsichord music. A composer largely overshadowed by luminaries like Francois Couperin and Jean-Philippe Rameau, de Mars nonetheless contributed to the genre with his distinctive style, characterized by elegant ornamentation and a refined sense of harmony. - de Mars's harpsichord works are steeped in the galant aesthetic, bridging the ornate Baroque style with the more expressive and accessible traits of the early Classical period. His music often features dance forms like the allemande, courante, and sarabande, which were central to the French clavecinistes. - One of the hallmarks of his Pieces de clavecin is his innovative use of ornaments, or agrements, which add a shimmering quality to the melodies. These works also reflect de Mars's ability to evoke character and mood, making them miniature portraits of the 18th-century French musical ethos. - Played by Simone Pierini on a harpsichord by Giulio Fratini after M. Mietke, 2014. Born in Rome in 1996, Pierini began studying music at the age of eight. Aged eighteen, he graduated in piano at S. Cecilia Conservatory of Music, Rome, with highest honors. He afterwards grew interest in historically informed piano practice, attending masterclasses led by Alexei Lubimov, Andreas Staier, Tobias Koch, Stefano Fiuzzi. Subsequently, his interest about historical keyboards in general grew further, and he began studying harpsichord and basso continuo with such teachers as Andrea Coen and Giovanni Togni. His recordings with music by Cherubini and the complete piano sonatas by Helene de Montgeroult were very positively received by the press. Classic FM nominated him as one of the 30 best musicians under 30 in 2024.
Bernstein conducts Haydn: London Symphonies
Sony Masterworks
CD
$24.98
Jan 01, 2014
Reviews of some of the original recordings that make up this set"
"let’s not kid ourselves: there was no finer 20th century Haydn conductor than Leonard Bernstein. He has the same affinity for the composer that he did for Mahler: the music’s energy, humor, and sheer emotional range played to the conductor’s strengths, and no amount of foolishness about “period this” or “authentic that” can diminish idiomatic results that penetrate far deeper into the music’s expressive essence than issues of performance practice ever can."
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
"The competition is strong in the “London” symphonies, but Bernstein’s performances of Haydn are always among the most intriguing, the most dynamic and intense. The “Surprise” Symphony’s opening Vivace assai is played slowly, with a unique gravitas, a seemingly odd approach that—through some Bernstein magic—produces a tender, sensitive result. The surprise chord in the Andante doesn’t sneak up on us; it is just plain ff. The repeated ff chords in the rest of the movement thunder with a towering rage, and the Menuet stomps heavily. The Allegro di molto finale boils along at terrific pace, bursting with joy. This is a wildly unconventional performance of this warhorse, yet one that thrills and satisfies.
Max Goberman recorded a superb No. 98, including the violin/cembalo duet in the finale, but his Vienna State Opera Orchestra (like Scherchen’s, third-string leftovers from the Vienna Philharmonic) cannot match the New Yorkers’ power and panache. This “Military” is a lovely performance, with especially enticing wind solos; the Janissary music (triangle, cymbals, bass drum) is not overplayed, as with Scherchen. The triangle rings its own miniature cadenza in the finale’s penultimate measure. The Andante of “The Clock” ticks sweetly and gently, interrupted by thundering fortissimos. Trumpets are prominent throughout the performance, so the wrong-note joke in the (very slow) Menuet’s Trio jars the ear as never before—or since. No.102, perhaps Haydn’s greatest symphony, receives it finest performance, beginning with an almost motionless Largo and ending with a lightning-fast, spectacularly executed Presto. "
-- James H. North, Fanfare
At least one of these performances (No. 104) goes back to the Fifties, and the Paris Symphonies came out about a quarter-of-a-century ago. For some reason they caused a tremendous row in the New York press when they were issued. Part of it was my defending the performances (in a magazine called High Fidelity), saying among other things that Bernstein had gone to great pains to get his trills right, ie in strict tempo and starting on the upper note. In those days, a lot of snobs did not take Bernstein seriously – how wrong they were. Bernstein has a natural affinity for Haydn, though some of his tempi will be judged too slow: first movements of Nos. 82, 93 and 98 (an old legacy from Sir Thomas Beecham, especially in the case of No. 82), the intolerably slow minuets of some works (eg Nos. 93 and 101, also a Beecham legacy but not much better in the Karajan/Berlin Philharmonic recordings), and the slow movement of The Clock (No. 101). But when Bernstein gets it right, it is glorious. The slow movement of the Surprise (No. 94) is nowadays taken far too quickly: it is only andante, not allegretto, and Bernstein’s reading is poetic and masculine, by turns. The first movement of the great C minor Symphony No. 95 is the best reading of it that I know – listen to that hair-raising timpani part at the end: it is extraordinary, as is the ferociously slow Minuet in the same work. And while on the subject of timpani, there are splendid timpani solos in the Minuet of No. 97, the slow movement of which is also a revelation – note the careful adherence to Haydn’s markings of ‘ponticello’, on the bridge of the violins, a nasty, spiky sound which must have stunned London in 1792. If you want one perfect Haydn/Bernstein sampler, try the finale of No. 99 in E flat, the first time Haydn ever used clarinets in a symphony. The tempo and the pace are perfect. And what civilised works these are: witty, profound, dramatic, touching – there is something for everybody in them.
-- H.C. Robbins Landon, BBC Music Magazine
"let’s not kid ourselves: there was no finer 20th century Haydn conductor than Leonard Bernstein. He has the same affinity for the composer that he did for Mahler: the music’s energy, humor, and sheer emotional range played to the conductor’s strengths, and no amount of foolishness about “period this” or “authentic that” can diminish idiomatic results that penetrate far deeper into the music’s expressive essence than issues of performance practice ever can."
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
"The competition is strong in the “London” symphonies, but Bernstein’s performances of Haydn are always among the most intriguing, the most dynamic and intense. The “Surprise” Symphony’s opening Vivace assai is played slowly, with a unique gravitas, a seemingly odd approach that—through some Bernstein magic—produces a tender, sensitive result. The surprise chord in the Andante doesn’t sneak up on us; it is just plain ff. The repeated ff chords in the rest of the movement thunder with a towering rage, and the Menuet stomps heavily. The Allegro di molto finale boils along at terrific pace, bursting with joy. This is a wildly unconventional performance of this warhorse, yet one that thrills and satisfies.
Max Goberman recorded a superb No. 98, including the violin/cembalo duet in the finale, but his Vienna State Opera Orchestra (like Scherchen’s, third-string leftovers from the Vienna Philharmonic) cannot match the New Yorkers’ power and panache. This “Military” is a lovely performance, with especially enticing wind solos; the Janissary music (triangle, cymbals, bass drum) is not overplayed, as with Scherchen. The triangle rings its own miniature cadenza in the finale’s penultimate measure. The Andante of “The Clock” ticks sweetly and gently, interrupted by thundering fortissimos. Trumpets are prominent throughout the performance, so the wrong-note joke in the (very slow) Menuet’s Trio jars the ear as never before—or since. No.102, perhaps Haydn’s greatest symphony, receives it finest performance, beginning with an almost motionless Largo and ending with a lightning-fast, spectacularly executed Presto. "
-- James H. North, Fanfare
At least one of these performances (No. 104) goes back to the Fifties, and the Paris Symphonies came out about a quarter-of-a-century ago. For some reason they caused a tremendous row in the New York press when they were issued. Part of it was my defending the performances (in a magazine called High Fidelity), saying among other things that Bernstein had gone to great pains to get his trills right, ie in strict tempo and starting on the upper note. In those days, a lot of snobs did not take Bernstein seriously – how wrong they were. Bernstein has a natural affinity for Haydn, though some of his tempi will be judged too slow: first movements of Nos. 82, 93 and 98 (an old legacy from Sir Thomas Beecham, especially in the case of No. 82), the intolerably slow minuets of some works (eg Nos. 93 and 101, also a Beecham legacy but not much better in the Karajan/Berlin Philharmonic recordings), and the slow movement of The Clock (No. 101). But when Bernstein gets it right, it is glorious. The slow movement of the Surprise (No. 94) is nowadays taken far too quickly: it is only andante, not allegretto, and Bernstein’s reading is poetic and masculine, by turns. The first movement of the great C minor Symphony No. 95 is the best reading of it that I know – listen to that hair-raising timpani part at the end: it is extraordinary, as is the ferociously slow Minuet in the same work. And while on the subject of timpani, there are splendid timpani solos in the Minuet of No. 97, the slow movement of which is also a revelation – note the careful adherence to Haydn’s markings of ‘ponticello’, on the bridge of the violins, a nasty, spiky sound which must have stunned London in 1792. If you want one perfect Haydn/Bernstein sampler, try the finale of No. 99 in E flat, the first time Haydn ever used clarinets in a symphony. The tempo and the pace are perfect. And what civilised works these are: witty, profound, dramatic, touching – there is something for everybody in them.
-- H.C. Robbins Landon, BBC Music Magazine
The Art Of Egon Petri - Concert Performances & Broadcasts, 1954-1962
Music and Arts Programs of America
CD
$36.99
Aug 07, 2013
Petri was in his youth something of a multi-instrumentalist. We remember him as Busoni’s greatest pupil and a Lisztian of coruscating brilliance but he was also a violinist – not surprising as his father, Henri, was an internationally renowned performer and teacher – but also, less predictably, as a French horn player good enough to take a place in the Dresden Symphony. Petri was a musician of the utmost clarity, distinction and directness with a technique remarkable even into old age and whose conception of space and tonal value gave him a persuasive insight into music of intellect and weight. As a Beethovenian he was distinguished - as a Chopin player he maybe reflected something of his teacher Busoni’s own professed ambiguity and duality of response. Petri’s pre-War Columbias have been collated on APR and demonstrate his strengths in abundance. Music and Arts has here brought together his concerts and broadcasts from the period covering 1954 to 1962, the year of his death. His reluctance to travel, his physical lack of flamboyance, indeed his active distaste of extravagance and extraneous gesture and detail, meant that audiences didn’t much clamour to hear him. Their loss is evident from this uneven but nevertheless exceptionally significant series of survivals.
There’s a caveat to be made about the actual piano sound on some of these off-air and private recordings; it can be rather harsh but it’s not at all unlistenable. There are also some imperfections to be expected – some wow and distortion (minimal and fleeting) some dropouts (ditto) as well as pitch distortion. These are all honestly noted in Music and Arts documentation and I should mention them here; they didn’t unduly trouble me. The repertoire is very much Petri’s canonical one – the last Beethoven sonatas, Busoni, Chopin as well as Bach-Busoni and Bach-Petri. He was always a charming exponent of Gluck, a more unexpected one here of Medtner. Of Liszt there’s but a fleeting glimpse – Venezia e Napoli, taped in the last year of his life.
We start with his Chopin Preludes Op. 28. Well, best to get this over with I suppose. I find his Chopin rather disappointing. His rubati in the Agitato opener are well judged if unexceptionable (he was known to scorn the emotive exaggerations of some of his colleagues) but he is very, very cool in No. 4, the Largo in E. There’s a dispassionate control in No. 6, a Lento from which, however, he seems to wish to expunge feeling. He is fine though in another Largo, No. 9 in E – his truly noble sound is affecting – but there isn’t enough distinction between the hands in No. 11, where he fails to differentiate the melody line in the right hand. There’s even a distribution between hands – something that seems to me afflicts No. 13 in F sharp as well. The Sostenuto in D flat (No. 15) is very dry playing indeed – Petri adamantine in his refusal to indulge colouristic potential; in addition his left hand covers the right at some crucial moments. He improves considerably for the B flat Presto and the power contained within as he does for the virility and energy of the Allegro appassionato conclusion (he omits Nos. 21 and 22 for some reason). Throughout I felt him most comfortable with the athletic, technical side of the Preludes and rather less indulgent towards the lyrical side that Busoni himself felt most ambivalent about. Of his Busoni indeed I could hardly say anything other than that it is magnificent. The Song of Victory from the Indian Diary is 1.16 of powerfully sustained pianism of an exalted level whilst the eloquence of the Bluebird Song shows that what he failed to do so glaringly in Chopin he could manifestly do in Busoni. The final dance shows off Petri’s superb rhythmic control, his colour and his sheer depth of tone (never overdone). He was seventy-seven when he was taped in Busoni’s All’Italia – sheer virtuosic panache. The disc finishes with twenty-five minutes of Petri with the eminent pianist Carlo Bussotti in a stratospherically impressive Fantasia Contrappuntistica; the two men seemingly joined at the musical hip so intense and marshalled their decisive vision.
The second disc is rather more bits and pieces – but what bits what pieces. The Medtner is very impressive playing indeed if not quite in the Moiseiwitsch or Medtner class. The Danza Festiva is rather heavier than the composer’s own recording but the Op. 20/2 Fairy Tale in B has some seismic attacks. The Schumann Fantasiestücke are in somewhat splintery sound but he plays them with rather more overt affection than he did the Chopin; the Allegro con fuoco second is sonorous, the third is affecting, without affectation, and the Vivacissimo, Dream Visions is full of filigree drive, albeit one accompanied by a degree of tape distortion. His own Bach Chorale arrangements are justly famous as are his recordings of them. Sheep may safely graze is nourishingly intimate and beautifully adept with its sudden pianissimi, whilst I step before Thy Throne grows in authority and grandeur. There’s little real difference between Petri’s 1930s recording of the Minuet (from the W.F. Bach Notebook) and this one, made in 1958. His Schubert-Liszt is duly frolicsome and the Nocturne in D flat has quite a lot more vivacity and colour than he lavished on the Préludes, albeit his rhythm is rather heavy.
The third disc gives us his trademark Gluck-Sgambati Melodie – and this time he must cede to his earlier self; he’s heavier, more emphatic, less treble oriented preferring to concentrate instead on the middle voicings. The captivating beauty of that earlier recording has been replaced by a philosophic depth that does seem rather alien to it. His Beethoven Op. 90 Sonata is characteristically plain speaking and strong; the second of the two movements is especially buoyant and decisive. The Chopin examples here, the Sonata in B and the Nocturne in F sharp, are vitiated by choppy rhythm. Petri was seventy-eight when these performances were taped so maybe that has something to do with it but whilst there are tonally delightful glints in the opening Allegro of the Sonata it sounds as if, like a mathematician, Petri were actively breaking the movement – and indeed the work as a whole – into units. The algebraic-philosophic-contrapuntalist approach here renders much of this very disappointing. I liked the lento much more though and whilst the presto finale again suffers from rhythmic insistence there are still compensatory features of colour and vivacity.
The final disc is in many ways the most consistently elevated in musical terms, principally because it finds Petri addressing Beethoven. There are some technical frailties in the opening of Op. 109, it’s true, but more important by far is the sense of powerful direction. Again the tiny Prestissimo second movement taxes him for a moment but we should concentrate on the Andante finale. Here Petri is very direct, almost casual, but as the movement advances and his architectural priorities become clearer we are aware of a mind of illuminating integrity at work. By the later variations he develops a degree of metrical flexibility that one would not have earlier suspected. There is no undue sentiment and I would certainly understand those who hold this to be a logician’s Beethoven. My own instincts are for something more overtly expressive but I can but admire the tremendous concentration of his approach. The A flat Sonata, Op. 110, again taped in 1954, certainly lacks to my ears the molto espressivo in the first movement requested of the performer. But Petri is careful to reserve the weight of his intelligence and tonal resources for the first, Adagio section of the finale. He keeps this moving with an almost Arietta delicacy, though he certainly employs weight and shading. The Fuga is strong and determined. In Op. 111 his Maestoso is fast, strong, with no great tonal beauty to it. I have to say I found it inflexible, on one level and rather superficial. It’s a performance that seeks to divide and fracture still further, rather than reconcile, the character of both movements. With a pianist such as Solomon the seemingly disparate and oppositional movements take on congruence and a retrospective sense of rightness. With Petri the implacably oppositional nature of the Sonata is starkly delineated. In that Arietta finale Petri is flexible without coming to a stop; his syncopated passages are driving, even a little peremptory, but he never seeks to extract huge weight of left hand tone or to indulge abstraction. This is intelligent, lean, technically adept and impressive playing, whatever ones view of its ability to move, which I happen to find relatively limited.
Documentation consists in the main of an interview between annotator Frederick Maroth and Petri’s English pupil, Claire James who had attended the famous Busoni-Petri two-piano London recital of 1921. They deal with the central features of Petri’s pianism with acumen, as one would expect, with some quietly revealing information disclosed along the way. This is a set of some real importance in capturing Petri’s art at a time when he was given considerably less than his due. Even at his most phlegmatic his brand of musical stoicism added an imperishable page to the annals of pianism on record in the twentieth century.
-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International
There’s a caveat to be made about the actual piano sound on some of these off-air and private recordings; it can be rather harsh but it’s not at all unlistenable. There are also some imperfections to be expected – some wow and distortion (minimal and fleeting) some dropouts (ditto) as well as pitch distortion. These are all honestly noted in Music and Arts documentation and I should mention them here; they didn’t unduly trouble me. The repertoire is very much Petri’s canonical one – the last Beethoven sonatas, Busoni, Chopin as well as Bach-Busoni and Bach-Petri. He was always a charming exponent of Gluck, a more unexpected one here of Medtner. Of Liszt there’s but a fleeting glimpse – Venezia e Napoli, taped in the last year of his life.
We start with his Chopin Preludes Op. 28. Well, best to get this over with I suppose. I find his Chopin rather disappointing. His rubati in the Agitato opener are well judged if unexceptionable (he was known to scorn the emotive exaggerations of some of his colleagues) but he is very, very cool in No. 4, the Largo in E. There’s a dispassionate control in No. 6, a Lento from which, however, he seems to wish to expunge feeling. He is fine though in another Largo, No. 9 in E – his truly noble sound is affecting – but there isn’t enough distinction between the hands in No. 11, where he fails to differentiate the melody line in the right hand. There’s even a distribution between hands – something that seems to me afflicts No. 13 in F sharp as well. The Sostenuto in D flat (No. 15) is very dry playing indeed – Petri adamantine in his refusal to indulge colouristic potential; in addition his left hand covers the right at some crucial moments. He improves considerably for the B flat Presto and the power contained within as he does for the virility and energy of the Allegro appassionato conclusion (he omits Nos. 21 and 22 for some reason). Throughout I felt him most comfortable with the athletic, technical side of the Preludes and rather less indulgent towards the lyrical side that Busoni himself felt most ambivalent about. Of his Busoni indeed I could hardly say anything other than that it is magnificent. The Song of Victory from the Indian Diary is 1.16 of powerfully sustained pianism of an exalted level whilst the eloquence of the Bluebird Song shows that what he failed to do so glaringly in Chopin he could manifestly do in Busoni. The final dance shows off Petri’s superb rhythmic control, his colour and his sheer depth of tone (never overdone). He was seventy-seven when he was taped in Busoni’s All’Italia – sheer virtuosic panache. The disc finishes with twenty-five minutes of Petri with the eminent pianist Carlo Bussotti in a stratospherically impressive Fantasia Contrappuntistica; the two men seemingly joined at the musical hip so intense and marshalled their decisive vision.
The second disc is rather more bits and pieces – but what bits what pieces. The Medtner is very impressive playing indeed if not quite in the Moiseiwitsch or Medtner class. The Danza Festiva is rather heavier than the composer’s own recording but the Op. 20/2 Fairy Tale in B has some seismic attacks. The Schumann Fantasiestücke are in somewhat splintery sound but he plays them with rather more overt affection than he did the Chopin; the Allegro con fuoco second is sonorous, the third is affecting, without affectation, and the Vivacissimo, Dream Visions is full of filigree drive, albeit one accompanied by a degree of tape distortion. His own Bach Chorale arrangements are justly famous as are his recordings of them. Sheep may safely graze is nourishingly intimate and beautifully adept with its sudden pianissimi, whilst I step before Thy Throne grows in authority and grandeur. There’s little real difference between Petri’s 1930s recording of the Minuet (from the W.F. Bach Notebook) and this one, made in 1958. His Schubert-Liszt is duly frolicsome and the Nocturne in D flat has quite a lot more vivacity and colour than he lavished on the Préludes, albeit his rhythm is rather heavy.
The third disc gives us his trademark Gluck-Sgambati Melodie – and this time he must cede to his earlier self; he’s heavier, more emphatic, less treble oriented preferring to concentrate instead on the middle voicings. The captivating beauty of that earlier recording has been replaced by a philosophic depth that does seem rather alien to it. His Beethoven Op. 90 Sonata is characteristically plain speaking and strong; the second of the two movements is especially buoyant and decisive. The Chopin examples here, the Sonata in B and the Nocturne in F sharp, are vitiated by choppy rhythm. Petri was seventy-eight when these performances were taped so maybe that has something to do with it but whilst there are tonally delightful glints in the opening Allegro of the Sonata it sounds as if, like a mathematician, Petri were actively breaking the movement – and indeed the work as a whole – into units. The algebraic-philosophic-contrapuntalist approach here renders much of this very disappointing. I liked the lento much more though and whilst the presto finale again suffers from rhythmic insistence there are still compensatory features of colour and vivacity.
The final disc is in many ways the most consistently elevated in musical terms, principally because it finds Petri addressing Beethoven. There are some technical frailties in the opening of Op. 109, it’s true, but more important by far is the sense of powerful direction. Again the tiny Prestissimo second movement taxes him for a moment but we should concentrate on the Andante finale. Here Petri is very direct, almost casual, but as the movement advances and his architectural priorities become clearer we are aware of a mind of illuminating integrity at work. By the later variations he develops a degree of metrical flexibility that one would not have earlier suspected. There is no undue sentiment and I would certainly understand those who hold this to be a logician’s Beethoven. My own instincts are for something more overtly expressive but I can but admire the tremendous concentration of his approach. The A flat Sonata, Op. 110, again taped in 1954, certainly lacks to my ears the molto espressivo in the first movement requested of the performer. But Petri is careful to reserve the weight of his intelligence and tonal resources for the first, Adagio section of the finale. He keeps this moving with an almost Arietta delicacy, though he certainly employs weight and shading. The Fuga is strong and determined. In Op. 111 his Maestoso is fast, strong, with no great tonal beauty to it. I have to say I found it inflexible, on one level and rather superficial. It’s a performance that seeks to divide and fracture still further, rather than reconcile, the character of both movements. With a pianist such as Solomon the seemingly disparate and oppositional movements take on congruence and a retrospective sense of rightness. With Petri the implacably oppositional nature of the Sonata is starkly delineated. In that Arietta finale Petri is flexible without coming to a stop; his syncopated passages are driving, even a little peremptory, but he never seeks to extract huge weight of left hand tone or to indulge abstraction. This is intelligent, lean, technically adept and impressive playing, whatever ones view of its ability to move, which I happen to find relatively limited.
Documentation consists in the main of an interview between annotator Frederick Maroth and Petri’s English pupil, Claire James who had attended the famous Busoni-Petri two-piano London recital of 1921. They deal with the central features of Petri’s pianism with acumen, as one would expect, with some quietly revealing information disclosed along the way. This is a set of some real importance in capturing Petri’s art at a time when he was given considerably less than his due. Even at his most phlegmatic his brand of musical stoicism added an imperishable page to the annals of pianism on record in the twentieth century.
-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International
Liszt: Complete Piano Music Vol 21 / K. Scherbakov
Naxos
CD
$19.99
Nov 16, 2004
This superb disc is number 21 in Naxos’s projected series of Liszt’s complete piano music. Given that Leslie Howard’s Hyperion series (to my knowledge, the only one that is yet "complete" although he keeps finding more to record) ran to 57 volumes, some with multiple discs, this still has some way to go. I mention this because, in one of life’s coincidences, the discs in the series I have acquired previously are numbers 7 and 14 (respectively containing Rossini transcriptions and Bunte Reihe transcriptions of music by Ferdinand David), both of which were also excellent.
But, hang on a minute, this music certainly doesn’t sound like Liszt and, of course, it isn’t – it’s Beethoven. Although I have been aware of Liszt’s transcriptions of his symphonies for some time, this is my first experience of them. I approached the disc with several questions in my mind: Why did Liszt transcribe them? Why, when I can easily choose between recordings by Klemperer, Karajan, Böhm and Zinman, should I want to listen to a piano version? Even if I am interested in piano transcriptions of Beethoven’s symphonies, should I really be starting with the Ninth?
I would presume that Liszt was motivated to produce his transcriptions as a vehicle for his own performance and to increase the possibility of their performance more generally; although they would only ever be accessible to great virtuosos. My initial reason for wanting to listen to this was curiosity but I will re-listen in the future because the experience was much more compelling than I had expected. It made me think afresh about a work I thought I knew well. Each time I have listened to it I have marvelled at Beethoven’s music, Liszt’s conception for the piano, and Scherbakov’s musicianship and virtuosity.
My feeling is that the difficulties of playing the 9th Symphony on the piano must increase progressively throughout the work. The first movement is relatively straightforward compared to the scherzo, for which there is an incessant rhythmic challenge; despite this Scherbakov takes all the other repeats except the last one. In the adagio the difficulty is obviously not one of hitting the notes but conveying the feeling normally imparted in the string writing. Sensibly Scherbakov adopts a relatively fast tempo (although the duration of 12 minutes is similar to Zinman, Böhm takes about half as long again) and yet he convincingly conveys the spiritual essence of the music. But all this is nothing compared to the finale! As this began, I was really sceptical. Hadn’t Liszt thought of bringing at least a tenor along with him? Can a piano really sing like four soloists and a chorus? Of course it can’t but Scherbakov’s piano sings for all it is worth and the words went round in my head. The experience was quite different but still a rich broth rather than a consommé. Scherbakov handles the various contrasting sections of the finale with the same skill as a great conductor and he brings off a magnificent conclusion. The fantastic glow that you should feel at the end of this work was just as intense as ever.
Second time round, listening to this disc with the orchestral score was an interesting experience. The most striking thing was how many of the notes are in the piano version, a very high proportion and certainly all the ones that matter. Curiously though, there seems to be a small cut in the scherzo of eight bars just before the last repeated section (at 9’52" on track 2). This section (on page 133 of the Dover edition of the score) is played on all the orchestral versions mentioned above. Essentially it is a repeat of the opening eight bars of this movement. I don’t know whether Liszt, Scherbakov or Naxos is responsible for the omission. It would be surprising if it were Liszt because this short passage is so straightforward that even I could transcribe it for the piano (you couldn’t say that for more than 99% of the rest of this work!) although perhaps these bars were not in the edition of the score he used. Whatever the explanation, I raise it as a point of interest and do not feel that it detracts significantly from his truly magnificent rendition of this movement.
The recorded sound is not absolutely top-drawer and the piano initially seemed a little harsh in tone (this is not entirely inappropriate at the beginning of this work) but my ears adapted. The booklet is rather disappointing – no need here for a biography of Liszt, rather some more detail about the transcriptions would have been appreciated. But, for me, given music-making like this, these are minor considerations.
There is competition, both from within Leslie Howard’s complete Liszt series and also a complete Beethoven symphony transcription set by Cyprien Katsaris (see link to review below). Obviously, I haven’t heard these discs (yet) but, regardless of their merits, Scherbakov is worth hearing as well.
I am glad I started my piano transcription experience with the Ninth because it has made me want to explore the rest of the series. Apparently Scherbakov has already recorded three discs including the first six symphonies (see links to reviews of two of the discs below) and these are already available. I shall be looking out for these and the rest of this series, whatever their place in Naxos’s grand scheme. I shall also await volume 28 with anticipation - perhaps it might contain some original music by Liszt?
This is a magnificent disc and listening to it is a truly uplifting experience.
-- Patrick C. Waller, MusicWeb International
But, hang on a minute, this music certainly doesn’t sound like Liszt and, of course, it isn’t – it’s Beethoven. Although I have been aware of Liszt’s transcriptions of his symphonies for some time, this is my first experience of them. I approached the disc with several questions in my mind: Why did Liszt transcribe them? Why, when I can easily choose between recordings by Klemperer, Karajan, Böhm and Zinman, should I want to listen to a piano version? Even if I am interested in piano transcriptions of Beethoven’s symphonies, should I really be starting with the Ninth?
I would presume that Liszt was motivated to produce his transcriptions as a vehicle for his own performance and to increase the possibility of their performance more generally; although they would only ever be accessible to great virtuosos. My initial reason for wanting to listen to this was curiosity but I will re-listen in the future because the experience was much more compelling than I had expected. It made me think afresh about a work I thought I knew well. Each time I have listened to it I have marvelled at Beethoven’s music, Liszt’s conception for the piano, and Scherbakov’s musicianship and virtuosity.
My feeling is that the difficulties of playing the 9th Symphony on the piano must increase progressively throughout the work. The first movement is relatively straightforward compared to the scherzo, for which there is an incessant rhythmic challenge; despite this Scherbakov takes all the other repeats except the last one. In the adagio the difficulty is obviously not one of hitting the notes but conveying the feeling normally imparted in the string writing. Sensibly Scherbakov adopts a relatively fast tempo (although the duration of 12 minutes is similar to Zinman, Böhm takes about half as long again) and yet he convincingly conveys the spiritual essence of the music. But all this is nothing compared to the finale! As this began, I was really sceptical. Hadn’t Liszt thought of bringing at least a tenor along with him? Can a piano really sing like four soloists and a chorus? Of course it can’t but Scherbakov’s piano sings for all it is worth and the words went round in my head. The experience was quite different but still a rich broth rather than a consommé. Scherbakov handles the various contrasting sections of the finale with the same skill as a great conductor and he brings off a magnificent conclusion. The fantastic glow that you should feel at the end of this work was just as intense as ever.
Second time round, listening to this disc with the orchestral score was an interesting experience. The most striking thing was how many of the notes are in the piano version, a very high proportion and certainly all the ones that matter. Curiously though, there seems to be a small cut in the scherzo of eight bars just before the last repeated section (at 9’52" on track 2). This section (on page 133 of the Dover edition of the score) is played on all the orchestral versions mentioned above. Essentially it is a repeat of the opening eight bars of this movement. I don’t know whether Liszt, Scherbakov or Naxos is responsible for the omission. It would be surprising if it were Liszt because this short passage is so straightforward that even I could transcribe it for the piano (you couldn’t say that for more than 99% of the rest of this work!) although perhaps these bars were not in the edition of the score he used. Whatever the explanation, I raise it as a point of interest and do not feel that it detracts significantly from his truly magnificent rendition of this movement.
The recorded sound is not absolutely top-drawer and the piano initially seemed a little harsh in tone (this is not entirely inappropriate at the beginning of this work) but my ears adapted. The booklet is rather disappointing – no need here for a biography of Liszt, rather some more detail about the transcriptions would have been appreciated. But, for me, given music-making like this, these are minor considerations.
There is competition, both from within Leslie Howard’s complete Liszt series and also a complete Beethoven symphony transcription set by Cyprien Katsaris (see link to review below). Obviously, I haven’t heard these discs (yet) but, regardless of their merits, Scherbakov is worth hearing as well.
I am glad I started my piano transcription experience with the Ninth because it has made me want to explore the rest of the series. Apparently Scherbakov has already recorded three discs including the first six symphonies (see links to reviews of two of the discs below) and these are already available. I shall be looking out for these and the rest of this series, whatever their place in Naxos’s grand scheme. I shall also await volume 28 with anticipation - perhaps it might contain some original music by Liszt?
This is a magnificent disc and listening to it is a truly uplifting experience.
-- Patrick C. Waller, MusicWeb International
Bruckner: 7. Symphonie fur 2 Klaviere
Ars Produktion
CD
$22.99
Apr 05, 2024
The two pianists, Julius Zeman and Shun Oi, have made an exquisite and historic contribution to the Bruckner Year 2024 – celebrating the 200th birthday of the great symphonist by recording Anton Bruckner's Seventh Symphony in a version for two pianos. Some music lovers may ask in surprise, "For two pianos, not for piano four hands?" However, anyone who, like me, has heard the version for two pianos in a performance – on two Bösendorfer concert grand pianos, performed by the two pianists on this recording – will not find the answer difficult. The volume of sound that a symphony by Anton Bruckner unfolds in its orchestral form has a magnificent, even overwhelming effect, and something of this sonic power must also be conveyed by the piano version if it is not to do without a constitutive feature of this music. I was convinced by the live impression of the performance on two pianos: it truly sounded like "Bruckner," and I could only place the deep and moving impression of this performance alongside the best orchestral performances.
— Dr. Thomas Leibnitz
REVIEW:
Bruckner’s symphonies don’t easily lend themselves to piano reductions. The problem largely lies within the composer’s long stretches of string tremolos. If one literally replicates these effects on the piano, they sound like the worst clichés of silent movie accompaniments and grow instantly tedious. However, in their world premier recording of Hermann Behn’s two-piano Seventh Symphony arrangement, Julius Zeman and Shin Oi successfully circumvent the problem by subjecting the tremolos to altered dynamics, speeds and articulations. This ensures more textural variety, and makes it easier for the pianists to focus on the contrapuntal foreground. Their tempo fluctuations in the first movement have an organic ebb and flow, allowing for assiduous transitions and for themes to take full shape.
Shifts in color and balance beautifully demarcate the Adagio’s harmonic twists and turns. It’s all too easy for even the best pianists to get bogged down while approaching the big C Major climax, yet Zeman and Oi avoid this by minimizing accented downbeats with their eyes and ears on the long lines. They bring more cogent horizontal interplay to the Scherzo than in many orchestral performances, abetted by a moderate basic tempo. And the pianists bring impressive timbral character to the Finale’s themes; note, for instance, the mellifluously voiced chorale against the warmth of the detaché bass lines in octaves. The sonics are a tad dry for music that calls out for a more resonant ambience, but that matters little in light of the pianists’ excellent ensemble values and intelligent music making. Naturally one shouldn’t be without a recording of the orchestral original, but if you want to hear Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony on two pianos, look no further.
— ClassicsToday.com (Jed Distler)
Haydn Edition
Brilliant Classics
CD
$200.99
$267.99
Save 25%
Apr 25, 2025
The renowned French painter Jean Ingres proclaimed Haydn's music to be the alpha and omega: 'Whoever studies music, let his daily bread be Haydn. The first, who created everything, discovered everything, taught everything to the rest!' Hailed as the father of both the symphony and the string quartet, Haydn was both pioneering and prolific. This box is an update of Brilliant Classics' acclaimed Haydn Edition, with an additional 10 CDs of content including classic performances of the Trumpet and Horn concertos (Philharmonia Orchestra) and the Cello Concertos (Jan Vogler). The set of Haydn's Masses is now complete, with renditions of the 'Nelson', 'Creation' and 'Little Organ' Masses and the Heilig- and Theresienmessen by New York's Trinity Church Choir and Rebel Baroque Orchestra. Also new in this edition is Haydn's final opera, L'anima del filosofo, performed by the Bavarian Radio Choir and Munich Radio Orchestra, along with world-famous sopranos Arleen Auger and Emma Kirkby in Haydn's Songs and Cantatas. The Buchberger String Quartet add to their already monumental catalogue of 'Papa' Haydn's quartets with readings of Op.50/4-6, Op.54 and Op.76/4-6, while Federico Guglielmo, Ginevra Petrucci et al. #contribute new recordings of the duos for violin/viola and 2 flutes. Finally, all 8 of Haydn's ingenious Nocturnes grace this updated box, as performed by the Wiener Concert-Verein. As before, the complete keyboard works (including all sonatas) feature here in vibrant performances on fortepianos, the keyboard instrument of Haydn's day. Reissue of the successful Haydn Edition, the only substantial Edition in the market. Extended version, now 160 CD's, with the addition and completion of the Masses, the String Quartets, the Notturni, and the opera L'Anima del Filosofo. Includes Award winning performances by Austro-Hungarian Haydn Orchestra/Adam Fischer, Buchberger Quartet, Emma Kirkby, Frieder Bernius, Bart van Oort, Haydn Trio Vienna, and many more. The greatest celebration of one of the greatest and not yet fully appreciated composers of all time: craftman and genius, creator of a musical world of wonder, surprise, wit and sentiment, forever to be explored and marveled at.
Thielemann Conducts Faust - Liszt, Wagner
C Major Entertainment
DVD
$13.49
$26.99
Save 50%
Oct 25, 2011
Also available on Blu-ray
THIELEMANN CONDUCTS FAUST
Richard Wagner: A Faust Overture
Franz Liszt: A Faust Symphony, S108/R425
Endrik Wottrich, tenor
Dresden State Opera Chorus
Dresden Staatskapelle
Christian Thielemann, conductor
Recorded live from the Semperoper Dresden, 2011.
Picture format: NTSC 16:9
Sound format: PCM Stereo / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: German, English, French, Spanish, Korean, Chinese, Japanese
Running time: 90 mins
No. of DVDs: 1
R E V I E W:
3542380.az_LISZT_Faust_Symphony_WAGNER.html
LISZT A Faust Symphony. WAGNER A Faust Overture • Christian Thielemann, cond; Endrik Wottrich (ten); Dresden St Op Ch; Staatskapelle Dresden • C MAJOR 707708 (DVD: 90:00) Live: Semperoper, Dresden 02/21–22/2011
Now here’s a good release, entering an uncluttered field with repertoire that coincides neatly with an anniversary and that fits its performers like a glove. Where I recently argued that Christian Thielemann just about makes a (flawed) case for himself in the congested world of Beethoven symphonies, his credentials for Wagner and Liszt are far less controversial. A retro knight of big-boned, smoothly contoured orchestral playing, he is here heard to great effect in repertoire that is shamefully underrepresented. I also cannot fault the pairing of a young Wagner’s aborted attempt at a symphony with Liszt’s epic achievement on the same subject. Before Cosima, what linked Wagner and Liszt were their respective attempts to set Goethe’s Faust to music. Wagner intended this, written during his Paris years, to be merely the first movement of a Faust symphony, before Der fliegende Holländer and his Saxony post got in the way. So it remained an overture, and it was Liszt who would carry on some of Wagner’s initial intentions, such as a second movement based on the character of Gretchen. Liszt himself conducted Wagner’s piece in 1852, but despite a final revision in 1855 (the version given here) and a sketch for Gretchen’s theme, Wagner’s “symphony” remains a tantalizing what-if, giving clearance for the older composer to work on his vast set of Faustian character portraits. As Tobias Niederschlag’s admirable notes point out, Lizst’s late addition of tenor and chorus (always a bit of an afterthought in my view) to his tonal portraits can be seen as a nod to Beethoven’s Ninth, a sign of the massive ambition on display.
Given its fractious birth, Wagner’s A Faust Overture tends, not surprisingly, to be dismissed as a rather nothingy, juvenile work, but Thielemann and the Dresdeners really do make a fine case for it. Despite the full string textures and grandly played climaxes, Thielemann wisely doesn’t linger or pull things about for effect, as he sometimes does, and the Dresdeners’ dark, burnished sound helps underline the familiar traits of mature Wagner, without preventing it from being an intense, nimble account of a work that deserves to be better known. Yes, there are hangovers of Weber in the tuttis, and obvious foreshadows of the Holländer overture, but also there is a germ of Wagner’s later epic arches of texture and melodic development. The dying chords of Tristan und Isolde , for instance, can surely be heard in the finals bars of this piece.
With those mournful broken woodwind phrases in the “Nostalgia” opening, Wagner must have had Liszt’s symphony at the back of his mind during Tristan’s development. Although grotesque humor doesn’t feature in Wagner’s opera, both pieces share that introverted sense of Weltschmerz that naturally brings out the best from Thielemann. Faust’s feverish obsession is brilliantly conveyed in the frenzied string writing, but Thielemann doesn’t let the symphony as a whole become the empty showpiece that some of Liszt’s vast tapestries can become. The second movement (Gretchen) is, likewise, very well controlled, with the love theme played with sincerity, but no less heartfelt than many more drawn-out versions, and with much exquisite solo playing from the orchestra.
I still have the occasional feeling of extreme control-freakery, as on Thielemann’s recent Beethoven, but here his quirks and homogenized sound fit the repertoire brilliantly, and although as typically plush and molded an experience as I had predicted from this team, this DVD confounds a lot of my prejudices about him. Most surprising is how swift Thielemann is, with the Liszt falling roughly between young (Sony audio) and old (Euroarts DVD) Leonard Bernstein in basic length, and similar in scale to Barenboim’s audio version. Likewise I wouldn’t have predicted how well Thielemann creates a sense of fun on the podium; the ironisch comes out well in the opening of the grotesque Mesphisto episode, spritely in tone, in complete contrast to the opening two sections. I would almost say light and fleet-footed, but after some comparison with 1960s Bernstein, or a terrific YouTube clip of Dmitri Mitropoulos rehearsing the same section, Thielemann cannot yield all of his steeliness. Choral singing is excellent, although I can think of more alluring sounds than the rather pinched, clunky tones of tenor Endrik Wottrich, in rather tense form here. DVD competition is scarce, but Kenneth Riegel on Leonard Bernstein’s 1976 Boston DVD is better. For true vocal allure, if weird German, Plácido Domingo on Barenboim’s Warner CD is the obvious choice.
I do wish concert DVDs would come with the option of having an mp3 of the audio only. I, for one, would love the Wagner overture on my iPod. But C Major’s presentation is still very fine, with good booklet notes and logical DVD menuing. Pity that there are no extras (Thielemann’s Beethoven symphonies on the same label came with a 60-minute discussion of each work), but camerawork is unobtrusive and the sound is very clear and balanced, possibly at times allowing that Dresden acoustic to give quieter moments a rather cold demeanor. Perhaps, because of that last point, I find myself preferring the Bernstein DVD, boisterous and all-embracing despite much slower tempi throughout. But it is not a clear victory, especially considering modern picture, sound, and so fine a Faust Overture performance as a filler. So, yes, unlikely readers who only want one version: Get the Thielemann.
FANFARE: Barnaby Rayfield
THIELEMANN CONDUCTS FAUST
Richard Wagner: A Faust Overture
Franz Liszt: A Faust Symphony, S108/R425
Endrik Wottrich, tenor
Dresden State Opera Chorus
Dresden Staatskapelle
Christian Thielemann, conductor
Recorded live from the Semperoper Dresden, 2011.
Picture format: NTSC 16:9
Sound format: PCM Stereo / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: German, English, French, Spanish, Korean, Chinese, Japanese
Running time: 90 mins
No. of DVDs: 1
R E V I E W:
LISZT A Faust Symphony. WAGNER A Faust Overture • Christian Thielemann, cond; Endrik Wottrich (ten); Dresden St Op Ch; Staatskapelle Dresden • C MAJOR 707708 (DVD: 90:00) Live: Semperoper, Dresden 02/21–22/2011
Now here’s a good release, entering an uncluttered field with repertoire that coincides neatly with an anniversary and that fits its performers like a glove. Where I recently argued that Christian Thielemann just about makes a (flawed) case for himself in the congested world of Beethoven symphonies, his credentials for Wagner and Liszt are far less controversial. A retro knight of big-boned, smoothly contoured orchestral playing, he is here heard to great effect in repertoire that is shamefully underrepresented. I also cannot fault the pairing of a young Wagner’s aborted attempt at a symphony with Liszt’s epic achievement on the same subject. Before Cosima, what linked Wagner and Liszt were their respective attempts to set Goethe’s Faust to music. Wagner intended this, written during his Paris years, to be merely the first movement of a Faust symphony, before Der fliegende Holländer and his Saxony post got in the way. So it remained an overture, and it was Liszt who would carry on some of Wagner’s initial intentions, such as a second movement based on the character of Gretchen. Liszt himself conducted Wagner’s piece in 1852, but despite a final revision in 1855 (the version given here) and a sketch for Gretchen’s theme, Wagner’s “symphony” remains a tantalizing what-if, giving clearance for the older composer to work on his vast set of Faustian character portraits. As Tobias Niederschlag’s admirable notes point out, Lizst’s late addition of tenor and chorus (always a bit of an afterthought in my view) to his tonal portraits can be seen as a nod to Beethoven’s Ninth, a sign of the massive ambition on display.
Given its fractious birth, Wagner’s A Faust Overture tends, not surprisingly, to be dismissed as a rather nothingy, juvenile work, but Thielemann and the Dresdeners really do make a fine case for it. Despite the full string textures and grandly played climaxes, Thielemann wisely doesn’t linger or pull things about for effect, as he sometimes does, and the Dresdeners’ dark, burnished sound helps underline the familiar traits of mature Wagner, without preventing it from being an intense, nimble account of a work that deserves to be better known. Yes, there are hangovers of Weber in the tuttis, and obvious foreshadows of the Holländer overture, but also there is a germ of Wagner’s later epic arches of texture and melodic development. The dying chords of Tristan und Isolde , for instance, can surely be heard in the finals bars of this piece.
With those mournful broken woodwind phrases in the “Nostalgia” opening, Wagner must have had Liszt’s symphony at the back of his mind during Tristan’s development. Although grotesque humor doesn’t feature in Wagner’s opera, both pieces share that introverted sense of Weltschmerz that naturally brings out the best from Thielemann. Faust’s feverish obsession is brilliantly conveyed in the frenzied string writing, but Thielemann doesn’t let the symphony as a whole become the empty showpiece that some of Liszt’s vast tapestries can become. The second movement (Gretchen) is, likewise, very well controlled, with the love theme played with sincerity, but no less heartfelt than many more drawn-out versions, and with much exquisite solo playing from the orchestra.
I still have the occasional feeling of extreme control-freakery, as on Thielemann’s recent Beethoven, but here his quirks and homogenized sound fit the repertoire brilliantly, and although as typically plush and molded an experience as I had predicted from this team, this DVD confounds a lot of my prejudices about him. Most surprising is how swift Thielemann is, with the Liszt falling roughly between young (Sony audio) and old (Euroarts DVD) Leonard Bernstein in basic length, and similar in scale to Barenboim’s audio version. Likewise I wouldn’t have predicted how well Thielemann creates a sense of fun on the podium; the ironisch comes out well in the opening of the grotesque Mesphisto episode, spritely in tone, in complete contrast to the opening two sections. I would almost say light and fleet-footed, but after some comparison with 1960s Bernstein, or a terrific YouTube clip of Dmitri Mitropoulos rehearsing the same section, Thielemann cannot yield all of his steeliness. Choral singing is excellent, although I can think of more alluring sounds than the rather pinched, clunky tones of tenor Endrik Wottrich, in rather tense form here. DVD competition is scarce, but Kenneth Riegel on Leonard Bernstein’s 1976 Boston DVD is better. For true vocal allure, if weird German, Plácido Domingo on Barenboim’s Warner CD is the obvious choice.
I do wish concert DVDs would come with the option of having an mp3 of the audio only. I, for one, would love the Wagner overture on my iPod. But C Major’s presentation is still very fine, with good booklet notes and logical DVD menuing. Pity that there are no extras (Thielemann’s Beethoven symphonies on the same label came with a 60-minute discussion of each work), but camerawork is unobtrusive and the sound is very clear and balanced, possibly at times allowing that Dresden acoustic to give quieter moments a rather cold demeanor. Perhaps, because of that last point, I find myself preferring the Bernstein DVD, boisterous and all-embracing despite much slower tempi throughout. But it is not a clear victory, especially considering modern picture, sound, and so fine a Faust Overture performance as a filler. So, yes, unlikely readers who only want one version: Get the Thielemann.
FANFARE: Barnaby Rayfield
Taylor: Orchestral Music, Vol. 2
Toccata
CD
$20.99
Jun 07, 2024
The music of the English composer Matthew Taylor (b. 1964) manages both to honour tradition and pull out some surprises. Clearly in the tradition that leads from Carl Nielsen through Robert Simpson, the works here observe Nielsen's fondness for dignity of expression, the occasional hint of power tempered by an almost Mendelssohnian lightness of touch - and, here and there, a note of levity: the Sixth Symphony, after all, is dedicated to the memory of Sir Malcolm Arnold. The three concertante works are performed here by musicians whose playing Taylor particularly admires.
Haydn: String Quartets, Vol. 14 - Op. 9, No. 1, 2 & 3 / Leipzig String Quarte
MDG
CD
$23.99
Mar 04, 2022
Joseph Haydn must have been curious: Away from the extensive obligations for music at the court of Prince Esterhazy, he found in the string quartet the ideal field for experiments. The quartets from op. 9 contain ideas that would only find expression in symphonies and sonatas much later. The Leipzig String Quartet are starting with Quartets 1 to 3, that sound as fresh and new as if they had just come from the pen. After all, ten years of compositional experience lie between Haydn's first attempts in the genre and the six quartets op. 9. The pieces repeatedly demand ludicrously virtuosic passages from the first violin, and some movements with their bravura cadenzas are even reminiscent of a violin concerto. However, the far advanced balance of the voices is surprising. Far from being simply accompaniment, there are also many demanding details in the lower voices. The slow movements, which always come third in the op. 9 quartets, are grandiose and at the same time touching. Wide melodic arches give the primarius opulent opportunity to indulge and to "speak" in conversation, in order to finally create space for a final movement that is as lively as it is capricious. This is not least due to Italian influence, but Carl Philip Emanuel Bach also leaves his mark alongside Sammartini; the themes seem to be thrown down, gain immense lightness, and the works become increasingly individual. It is not known what Haydn's employer thought of the innovations; with the historically informed Leipzig String Quartet, he must certainly have taken a particular liking to them.
Ries: Flute Quartets, Vol. 1 / Ardinghello Ensemble
CPO
CD
$18.99
Feb 24, 2017
If the number of compositions written for a specific instrument is any indication of a predilection, then Ferdinand Ries did indeed have a soft place in his heart for the flute. He penned no fewer than six quartets for flute and string trio, a quintet for flute, violin, two violas, and violoncello, a trio for piano, flute and violoncello, and many works for flute and piano - more works than for any other wind instrument. His first Flute Quartet presents itself as a grand, imposing quartet in the affirmative key of C major and contains many surprising elements. Here too, as already in his symphonies and string quartets, Ries proves to be an entirely independent and original composer - despite his close association with Beethoven. The Ardinghello ensemble adheres undogmatically to historically informed performance practice. Karl Kaiser plays transverse flutes from the early nineteenth century. The string players perform on instruments with stringing and bows from around 1820.
Solti - Journey Of A Lifetime
C Major Entertainment
DVD
$13.49
$26.99
Save 50%
Oct 30, 2012
Also available on Blu-ray
SOLTI – Journey of a Lifetime Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of the birth of Sir Georg Solti A film by Georg Wübbolt
Featuring:
Valerie Solti
Valery Gergiev
Christoph von Dohnányi
Sir Peter Jonas
Clemens Hellsberg
Ewald Markl
and many more as interview partners as well as several musical excerpts conducted by Sir Georg Solti
Bonus:
Dmitry Shostakovich: Symphony No. 1 in F minor, Op. 10
Sergey Prokofiev: Symphony No. 1 in D major, Op. 25, “Classical”
Modest Mussorgsky: Khovanshchina: Prelude
Chicago Symphony Orchestra
Georg Solti, conductor
R E V I E W:
SOLTI: JOURNEY OF A LIFETIME • Georg Solti, cond; Chicago SO • C-MAJOR 711708 (DVD: 106: 00) A film by Georg Wübbolt
MUSSORGSKY Khovanshchina: Prelude. PROKOFIEV Symphony No. 1, “Classical.” SHOSTAKOVICH Symphony No. 1. Live: Chicago 1977
What is Georg Solti’s place in the pantheon of podium titans? He gained celebrity when he led the first complete recording of Wagner’s Ring to be issued. He created a comparable sensation when he took over the Chicago Symphony and led that orchestra in concerts and recordings that dazzled with their brilliance, virtuosity, and tonal splendor. In the 1970s Harold C. Schonberg, the influential chief music critic of the New York Times , pronounced Solti and Karajan the two most significant conductors of the age, characterizing Solti’s sonority as “molten gold,” in contrast to the “silvery” Karajan sound. As is usual, extravagant acclaim soon led detractors to weigh in, and Solti’s recordings began to be criticized as crude, unyielding, over-driven, excessively muscular, and lacking in nuance and refinement. Although he holds the record for the number of Grammy awards, his many recordings of standard symphonic repertoire rarely turn up today on lists of preferred versions, and he did not make BBC Music magazine ’s list of the 20 greatest conductors, as selected by a poll of 100 currently active conductors. (Nor, astonishingly, did Otto Klemperer or Bruno Walter.)
The centennial of Solti’s birth in 2012 saw the release on DVD of two documentaries about his life and career. The other one, which I have not seen, was reviewed by Lynn René Bayley in Fanfare 36:3. It is nearly three times as long as the one under review here and apparently more thorough and detailed, with a lengthier supplement of complete performances. The C Major release combines a 52-minute documentary with 54 minutes of performances by the Chicago Symphony. Filmmaker Georg Wübbolt was also responsible for a documentary on Carlos Kleiber that I reviewed in 35:1. As in that earlier effort, he follows the standard technique of interspersing commentary by those who knew the conductor, worked with him, or followed his career, with clips from rehearsals and performances. Solti himself is much more of a participant in the commentary than was Kleiber, who stopped giving interviews early in his career. Wübbolt also follows his earlier practice of shifting rapidly from one commentator to the next, which generates a fast-paced narrative but also leaves loose ends and unanswered questions. As in his earlier documentary, there are issues one would like to have discussed in greater detail. It is also sometimes hard to keep track of the identities of the commentators and their connection to Solti, since they are often not again identified when they reappear. They include Solti’s widow, Valerie, Christoph von Dohnányi, who served as his assistant in Frankfurt, Valery Gergiev, and the critic Norman Lebrecht, along with musicians and officials of the Chicago Symphony, the Vienna Philharmonic, the Frankfurt and Munich opera houses, the Bayreuth Festival, and others. Considering the importance of opera in Solti’s career, the absence of singers with whom he worked from the ranks of commentators is surprising and regrettable. The film is mostly in German, with English subtitles, although there is some narration and comment in English. Solti himself speaks in German.
The documentary provides a succinct overview of Solti’s career: his musical training in his native Budapest under Bartók, Ernö Dohnányi, and Leo Weiner; his 1937 visit to Salzburg, where he met Toscanini and was recruited to serve as a repetiteur; his second meeting with Toscanini in Lucerne in 1939, on the eve of World War II, which resulted in his being stranded in Switzerland for the duration of the conflict. In postwar Germany, he finally had the opportunity to begin a conducting career, since most German conductors were temporarily barred by the victorious Allies from performing. He first headed the Bavarian State Opera in Munich, where life for him was very difficult. The opera orchestra (“all Nazis” according to Solti) did not take kindly to being led by a young Hungarian Jew and showed it. In 1951 he moved to the somewhat friendlier territory of Frankfurt. His career took a giant step forward when producer John Culshaw selected him for the Ring project over more senior and established figures, perceiving him as someone who was more amenable to the demands of the recording studio and capable of achieving the results Culshaw envisioned for this ground-breaking effort. The Decca Ring is said to have led to Solti’s appointment to head London’s Royal Opera, although most of Ring operas had not yet been released when this selection took place. After his successful although controversial tenure at Covent Garden (1961-71), where he brought the company to “the highest international standards,” he had had enough of presiding over opera houses and wished to devote himself to symphony orchestras. As music director of the Chicago Symphony (1969-91), he perhaps reached the peak of his career, bringing the orchestra to a level of world-wide acclaim it had never before approached. Not so successful was his brief tenure with the Orchestre de Paris (1972-75), described in the film as “a terrible orchestra” where “no one goes…except for the money.” Curiously, the documentary does not mention his involvement with the London Philharmonic, which he led in the years 1979-83 and with which he recorded Elgar’s symphonies and several Mozart operas, among other works. When Karajan died in 1989 prior to the Salzburg Festival, Solti was urgently requested to take over the production of Verdi’s Un ballo in maschera, which he did with some reluctance. Up to then he had never been invited to conduct at Salzburg or at the Berlin Philharmonic. There was no love lost between the two conductors, but they did listen to each other’s recordings to find out how the other was approaching a work. In Solti’s final years, he renewed his ties with Munich in guest appearances with the Bavarian Radio Symphony and returned to his homeland to lead the recently founded Budapest Festival Orchestra in a recording of works by his three teachers.
When the commentators attempt to characterize Solti’s style as a conductor, words like energy, vitality, and fire crop up repeatedly and are underscored by images of his abrupt, even violent movements on the podium. These movements, according to one observer, provoked orchestras to play loudly, and he had difficulty getting them to play more softly. In addition to fire, according to Gergiev, he possessed “icy control.” Other commentators mention his perfectionism, focus on detail, and special concern for rhythm, which are reflected in his practice of singing, or rather chanting, a passage to demonstrate how it should go. The Vienna Philharmonic cellist Werner Resel emphasizes and, I think, exaggerates the role of recordings in establishing Solti’s reputation, arguing that Solti “didn’t make a career by conducting concerts and delighting audiences but by making records that turned out to be great.” This gentleman apparently missed the decades in which Solti was thrilling audiences with his Chicago Symphony concerts, in Europe as well as the U.S. Peter Schmidl, another VPO musician, makes the surprising and demonstrably false claim that “Solti’s great career as a conductor became possible only when Böhm had stopped conducting and Karajan had died…and when Bernstein was no longer around,” in other words, in the last seven years of Solti’s life. The same observer, however, expresses regret that Solti was not called earlier to Salzburg, where he could have achieved great results.
The concert performances included as a supplement are drawn from a 1977 telecast featuring Russian music. The Khovanshchina Prelude is performed in Rimsky-Korsakov’s smoothed-out and comparatively bland revision. In the Prokofiev “Classical” Symphony, Solti’s weighty approach and the massive sound of the Chicago Symphony are perhaps not the best fit for this light and frothy music, but the piece is brilliantly played and enjoyable to hear. The fast-paced, forceful, and once again brilliantly played Shostakovich is the most satisfying item on the program. As was his practice, Solti tends to set a tempo and stick to it, without much inflection for expressive purposes, and with the solid, steady rhythmic underpinning that was one of his hallmarks. Others may bring more mystery and sense of underlying menace to this work, but with Solti the menace is quite overt. The sound is free from distortion, brilliant in tutti, and wide in dynamic range, if a bit opaque and lacking in spaciousness.
Returning to the question I posed at the beginning of this review, I have no definitive answer. Solti’s Ring , which has just been reissued in an expensive, hefty “super deluxe” edition and is said to be by far the best-selling classical recording of all time, retains its status, as does his Mahler Eighth, although even they are not without their detractors, as witness Lynn René Bayley’s unfavorable comments in 36:3. Solti’s legacy as an opera conductor, in Wagner, Strauss, Verdi, and, somewhat surprisingly, Mozart, seems to me secure. Although he was never one of my favorite conductors, he was one who engaged my interest, and I have a good many of his recordings of Beethoven, Brahms, Bruckner, Mahler, and others on my overburdened shelves. I will retain these performances as having enduring value, even if they would not necessarily be among my first choices for the works in question. Solti remains a worthy contributor to the almost infinite variety of performance that enriches our experience of music. For those interested in his life and career, the Wübbolt documentary, despite the shortcomings noted, offers a concise overview with many insights.
FANFARE: Daniel Morrison
1977 Video Production
Picture format: NTSC 16:9 (documentary) / 4:3 (bonus)
Sound format: PCM Stereo
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Languages: English, German
Subtitles: French, Spanish, Korean
Running time: 52 mins (documentary) + 55 mins (bonus)
No. of DVDs: 1 (DVD 9)
SOLTI – Journey of a Lifetime Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of the birth of Sir Georg Solti A film by Georg Wübbolt
Featuring:
Valerie Solti
Valery Gergiev
Christoph von Dohnányi
Sir Peter Jonas
Clemens Hellsberg
Ewald Markl
and many more as interview partners as well as several musical excerpts conducted by Sir Georg Solti
Bonus:
Dmitry Shostakovich: Symphony No. 1 in F minor, Op. 10
Sergey Prokofiev: Symphony No. 1 in D major, Op. 25, “Classical”
Modest Mussorgsky: Khovanshchina: Prelude
Chicago Symphony Orchestra
Georg Solti, conductor
R E V I E W:
SOLTI: JOURNEY OF A LIFETIME • Georg Solti, cond; Chicago SO • C-MAJOR 711708 (DVD: 106: 00) A film by Georg Wübbolt
MUSSORGSKY Khovanshchina: Prelude. PROKOFIEV Symphony No. 1, “Classical.” SHOSTAKOVICH Symphony No. 1. Live: Chicago 1977
What is Georg Solti’s place in the pantheon of podium titans? He gained celebrity when he led the first complete recording of Wagner’s Ring to be issued. He created a comparable sensation when he took over the Chicago Symphony and led that orchestra in concerts and recordings that dazzled with their brilliance, virtuosity, and tonal splendor. In the 1970s Harold C. Schonberg, the influential chief music critic of the New York Times , pronounced Solti and Karajan the two most significant conductors of the age, characterizing Solti’s sonority as “molten gold,” in contrast to the “silvery” Karajan sound. As is usual, extravagant acclaim soon led detractors to weigh in, and Solti’s recordings began to be criticized as crude, unyielding, over-driven, excessively muscular, and lacking in nuance and refinement. Although he holds the record for the number of Grammy awards, his many recordings of standard symphonic repertoire rarely turn up today on lists of preferred versions, and he did not make BBC Music magazine ’s list of the 20 greatest conductors, as selected by a poll of 100 currently active conductors. (Nor, astonishingly, did Otto Klemperer or Bruno Walter.)
The centennial of Solti’s birth in 2012 saw the release on DVD of two documentaries about his life and career. The other one, which I have not seen, was reviewed by Lynn René Bayley in Fanfare 36:3. It is nearly three times as long as the one under review here and apparently more thorough and detailed, with a lengthier supplement of complete performances. The C Major release combines a 52-minute documentary with 54 minutes of performances by the Chicago Symphony. Filmmaker Georg Wübbolt was also responsible for a documentary on Carlos Kleiber that I reviewed in 35:1. As in that earlier effort, he follows the standard technique of interspersing commentary by those who knew the conductor, worked with him, or followed his career, with clips from rehearsals and performances. Solti himself is much more of a participant in the commentary than was Kleiber, who stopped giving interviews early in his career. Wübbolt also follows his earlier practice of shifting rapidly from one commentator to the next, which generates a fast-paced narrative but also leaves loose ends and unanswered questions. As in his earlier documentary, there are issues one would like to have discussed in greater detail. It is also sometimes hard to keep track of the identities of the commentators and their connection to Solti, since they are often not again identified when they reappear. They include Solti’s widow, Valerie, Christoph von Dohnányi, who served as his assistant in Frankfurt, Valery Gergiev, and the critic Norman Lebrecht, along with musicians and officials of the Chicago Symphony, the Vienna Philharmonic, the Frankfurt and Munich opera houses, the Bayreuth Festival, and others. Considering the importance of opera in Solti’s career, the absence of singers with whom he worked from the ranks of commentators is surprising and regrettable. The film is mostly in German, with English subtitles, although there is some narration and comment in English. Solti himself speaks in German.
The documentary provides a succinct overview of Solti’s career: his musical training in his native Budapest under Bartók, Ernö Dohnányi, and Leo Weiner; his 1937 visit to Salzburg, where he met Toscanini and was recruited to serve as a repetiteur; his second meeting with Toscanini in Lucerne in 1939, on the eve of World War II, which resulted in his being stranded in Switzerland for the duration of the conflict. In postwar Germany, he finally had the opportunity to begin a conducting career, since most German conductors were temporarily barred by the victorious Allies from performing. He first headed the Bavarian State Opera in Munich, where life for him was very difficult. The opera orchestra (“all Nazis” according to Solti) did not take kindly to being led by a young Hungarian Jew and showed it. In 1951 he moved to the somewhat friendlier territory of Frankfurt. His career took a giant step forward when producer John Culshaw selected him for the Ring project over more senior and established figures, perceiving him as someone who was more amenable to the demands of the recording studio and capable of achieving the results Culshaw envisioned for this ground-breaking effort. The Decca Ring is said to have led to Solti’s appointment to head London’s Royal Opera, although most of Ring operas had not yet been released when this selection took place. After his successful although controversial tenure at Covent Garden (1961-71), where he brought the company to “the highest international standards,” he had had enough of presiding over opera houses and wished to devote himself to symphony orchestras. As music director of the Chicago Symphony (1969-91), he perhaps reached the peak of his career, bringing the orchestra to a level of world-wide acclaim it had never before approached. Not so successful was his brief tenure with the Orchestre de Paris (1972-75), described in the film as “a terrible orchestra” where “no one goes…except for the money.” Curiously, the documentary does not mention his involvement with the London Philharmonic, which he led in the years 1979-83 and with which he recorded Elgar’s symphonies and several Mozart operas, among other works. When Karajan died in 1989 prior to the Salzburg Festival, Solti was urgently requested to take over the production of Verdi’s Un ballo in maschera, which he did with some reluctance. Up to then he had never been invited to conduct at Salzburg or at the Berlin Philharmonic. There was no love lost between the two conductors, but they did listen to each other’s recordings to find out how the other was approaching a work. In Solti’s final years, he renewed his ties with Munich in guest appearances with the Bavarian Radio Symphony and returned to his homeland to lead the recently founded Budapest Festival Orchestra in a recording of works by his three teachers.
When the commentators attempt to characterize Solti’s style as a conductor, words like energy, vitality, and fire crop up repeatedly and are underscored by images of his abrupt, even violent movements on the podium. These movements, according to one observer, provoked orchestras to play loudly, and he had difficulty getting them to play more softly. In addition to fire, according to Gergiev, he possessed “icy control.” Other commentators mention his perfectionism, focus on detail, and special concern for rhythm, which are reflected in his practice of singing, or rather chanting, a passage to demonstrate how it should go. The Vienna Philharmonic cellist Werner Resel emphasizes and, I think, exaggerates the role of recordings in establishing Solti’s reputation, arguing that Solti “didn’t make a career by conducting concerts and delighting audiences but by making records that turned out to be great.” This gentleman apparently missed the decades in which Solti was thrilling audiences with his Chicago Symphony concerts, in Europe as well as the U.S. Peter Schmidl, another VPO musician, makes the surprising and demonstrably false claim that “Solti’s great career as a conductor became possible only when Böhm had stopped conducting and Karajan had died…and when Bernstein was no longer around,” in other words, in the last seven years of Solti’s life. The same observer, however, expresses regret that Solti was not called earlier to Salzburg, where he could have achieved great results.
The concert performances included as a supplement are drawn from a 1977 telecast featuring Russian music. The Khovanshchina Prelude is performed in Rimsky-Korsakov’s smoothed-out and comparatively bland revision. In the Prokofiev “Classical” Symphony, Solti’s weighty approach and the massive sound of the Chicago Symphony are perhaps not the best fit for this light and frothy music, but the piece is brilliantly played and enjoyable to hear. The fast-paced, forceful, and once again brilliantly played Shostakovich is the most satisfying item on the program. As was his practice, Solti tends to set a tempo and stick to it, without much inflection for expressive purposes, and with the solid, steady rhythmic underpinning that was one of his hallmarks. Others may bring more mystery and sense of underlying menace to this work, but with Solti the menace is quite overt. The sound is free from distortion, brilliant in tutti, and wide in dynamic range, if a bit opaque and lacking in spaciousness.
Returning to the question I posed at the beginning of this review, I have no definitive answer. Solti’s Ring , which has just been reissued in an expensive, hefty “super deluxe” edition and is said to be by far the best-selling classical recording of all time, retains its status, as does his Mahler Eighth, although even they are not without their detractors, as witness Lynn René Bayley’s unfavorable comments in 36:3. Solti’s legacy as an opera conductor, in Wagner, Strauss, Verdi, and, somewhat surprisingly, Mozart, seems to me secure. Although he was never one of my favorite conductors, he was one who engaged my interest, and I have a good many of his recordings of Beethoven, Brahms, Bruckner, Mahler, and others on my overburdened shelves. I will retain these performances as having enduring value, even if they would not necessarily be among my first choices for the works in question. Solti remains a worthy contributor to the almost infinite variety of performance that enriches our experience of music. For those interested in his life and career, the Wübbolt documentary, despite the shortcomings noted, offers a concise overview with many insights.
FANFARE: Daniel Morrison
1977 Video Production
Picture format: NTSC 16:9 (documentary) / 4:3 (bonus)
Sound format: PCM Stereo
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Languages: English, German
Subtitles: French, Spanish, Korean
Running time: 52 mins (documentary) + 55 mins (bonus)
No. of DVDs: 1 (DVD 9)
