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SaleJ.S. Bach: Partitas, BWV 825-830 on Lute-Harpsichord / Rübsam
Brilliant Classics · Nov 2022CD$16.99$12.99 - Concerto for solo keyboard No. 3 in D minor, BWV 974 (BC L194) (after Alessandro Marcello): 2. Adagio
- Sonatina No. 1, for piano in F sharp minor, Op. 67/1: 2. Largo
- Piano Sonata in B minor, Op. 5 (TrV 103): 2. Adagio cantabile
- Intermezzo for piano in A major, Op. 118/2
- Song Without Words for piano No. 9 in E major, Op. 30/3
- Song Without Words for piano No. 1 in E major, Op. 19b/1
- Keyboard Sonata in A minor, H. 30, Wq. 49/1 (Württemberg Sonata No. 1): 2. Andante
- English Suite, for keyboard No. 4 in F major, BWV 809 (BC L16): 4. Sarabande
- Piano Sonata in E minor, Op. 7: 2. Andante molto
- Pieces (2) for piano, Op. 57
- Pieces (5) for piano, Op. 3 (TrV 105): No. 1, Andante
- Intermezzo for piano in B flat minor, Op. 117/2
- Ballade for piano in D minor ("Edward"), Op. 10/1
- Intermezzo for piano in E flat major, Op. 117/1: Andante moderato
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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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Holst: St Paul's Suite; Warlock: Capriol Suite/ Sir Adrian Boult, Vernon Handley
Lyrita · Nov 2007CD$20.99 -
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Bach: Works for Harpsichord / Skowroneck
Mahler: Das Lied Von Der Erde / Hans Graf, Houston Symphony
MAHLER Das Lied von der Erde • Hans Graf, cond; Jane Henschel (mez); Gregory Kunde (tenor); Houston SO • NAXOS 8.572498 (62:46) Live: Houston 11/19–22/2009
Just as I noted with some dismay the relative dearth of recordings of the original version of Das Lied for full orchestra ( Fanfare 35:4), this new CD arrives from Naxos. It’s also encouraging to see an American orchestra and its music director featured on a major label, since new recordings of orchestras in the U.S. increasingly originate from in-house labels like SFS Media and CSO Resound (though the lack of the former necessitated the latter).
Any performance of Das Lied lives or dies by its soloists, and taste in voices is a particularly individual foible. I’ve found that I have no tolerance for the type of ripe, chocolate-thick mezzo or contralto common to many recordings (and that, alas, includes such greats as Maureen Forrester and Kathleen Ferrier). Given those constraints, I find this performance to be one of the best I’ve heard.
Gregory Kunde is described in the bio included in the notes as a bel canto singer, but he proves more than adequate in the Heldentenor demands of “Der Trinklied” (hard to fake in a live concert recording). His sensitivity to the text, however, may be his strongest quality; the reiterations of “dunkel ist das Leben, ist der Tod” are each sung with a slight diminuendo and a touch of melancholy that are truly heartfelt. His lyrical side is heard to salubrious effect in “Von der Jugend,” while the two styles combine to make “Der Trunkene” a rousing, tipsy delight.
Jane Henschel, the voice of Maria Aegyptiaca for Eliahu Inbal, Simon Rattle, and Bertrand DeBilly in their respective recordings of Mahler’s Eighth, is a fine Mahler interpreter. Her performance of “Der Abschied” will stand up to most of the competition, but I am also taken with her handling of the fast section describing the handsome youths in “Von der Schönheit”: In a manner approaching Sprechstimme , she navigates the treacherous waters with aplomb, then immediately regains the more stately composure of the rest of the narrative. In “Der Einsame” she combines melancholy and resignation with quiet effectiveness.
Hans Graf accompanies with sensitivity and well-gauged tempos that neither drag nor rush; he allows Henschel the breathing room in “Von der Schönheit” while charging “Der Trinklied” with the kind of momentum needed to convey the angst of the narrator. The Houston Symphony plays as to the manner born. I haven’t heard too much Mahler from this source, but on the strength of this recording, I’d like to hear more. The sound production is another sterling effort by Michael Fine, placing the soloists front and center without undue spotlighting, and revealing plenty of inner voice detailing from the orchestra. Altogether, this is a real bargain at reduced price (texts and translation are available on the Naxos website). Highly recommended.
FANFARE: Christopher Abbot
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Time was when Naxos recordings of core repertoire would be considered cheap and cheerful, but hardly designed to compete with the best in the catalogue. That has long since changed, with a growing number of discs that, while still sold at the super-budget price point, are every bit as desirable as established or more expensive performances. Certainly, Antoni Wit’s Mahler Eight must be at or near the top of the list of recommendations for that work, proof that great Mahler recordings don’t all emanate from Vienna, Berlin or Lucerne.
The Houston Symphony Orchestra and their Linz-born music director Hans Graf are both unfamiliar to me, as are the soloists, but as I’ve already hinted that’s hardly an issue where this label is concerned. Indeed, listening to a number of more illustrious recordings in preparation for this review I was reminded of just how difficult it is to alight on an ideal – or near ideal – version of this elusive score. Either the mezzo isn’t up to the sustained demands of that long goodbye or the tenor is overstretched by Mahler’s taxing tessitura; and even if the soloists are up to snuff, the articulation and pacing of the music itself may be problematic. And then there’s the recording quality which, while not the key issue, plays an important part in one’s perception of – and response to - this multi-hued score.
Of my selected comparisons two – Raymond Leppard on BBC Radio Classics 9120 and Bernard Haitink on Philips 468 182-2 – feature the limpid tones of Dame Janet Baker. The clarity and directness of her vocal style is always pleasing, and while I don’t share Tony Duggan’s out-and-out enthusiasm for Baker/Leppard and the Alfreda Hodgson/Jascha Horenstein version on BBC Legends 4042-2, I like them rather more than my colleague Marc Bridle does. In particular, Baker’s Der Abschied with Leppard – recorded at Manchester’s Free Trade Hall in 1977 – has a high goose-bump count, and while she sings with characteristic commitment for Haitink she lacks the intensity of feeling that makes the Leppard disc so memorable.
Kathleen Ferrier for Bruno Walter (Decca 466 576-2) and Christa Ludwig for Otto Klemperer (EMI 5 66892 2) are her main rivals, although Ferrier’s artless, somewhat old-fashioned, delivery doesn’t appeal to me. Heresy, I know, but I’ve often wondered whether Walter’s link to Mahler and Ferrier’s early death have given this recording a lustre it doesn’t always deserve. And among more recent recordings Cornelia Kallisch sounds warm but all-too-often uninvolved on Michael Gielen’s otherwise admirable version (Hänssler 93.269). Of the men, John Mitchinson – for Horenstein and Leppard – struggles with Mahler’s near-falsetto writing, while Haitink’s James King – placed quite far back - is rather more secure, if a little too generalised for my tastes. Walter’s tenor, Julius Patzak, is full-bodied but a trifle staid, heldentenor Siegfried Jerusalem and the agile Fritz Wunderlich – for Gielen and Klemperer respectively – both fresh and virile.
How does the Houston recording fare in this mixed company? In Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde Gregory Kunde sounds pleasing enough, although his voice is less appealing under pressure; at first I felt the orchestra was rather backwardly balanced, but it suits the intimate scale of this performance. The real revelation, though, is Graf, whose reading of the score is very impressive indeed, becoming more insightful as the piece unfolds. He can’t quite match Klemperer for sheer amplitude and nuance, but he does find an astonishing lucidity that works especially well in the trembling loveliness of ‘Der Einsame im Herbst’.
In that song mezzo Jane Henschel sings most hauntingly of the loneliness and the transience of life, her delivery discreet but always subtly inflected. In many ways she is the antithesis of Baker, who sometimes strives a little too hard for effect, notably in her recording for Haitink. And while Henschel doesn’t efface memories of Ludwig here, I was captivated by her glowing, unforced response to Bethge’s texts, notably Von der Schönheit. I particularly liked her honeyed lower registers, but again it’s Graf’s lightness of touch and natural rhythms that beguile the mind and ear.
Kunde may be overstretched as the drunkard but his delivery has a youthful charm that’s entirely apt; that said, Jerusalem and Wunderlich negotiate those treacherous vocal lines with aplomb, their innig moments more finely calibrated. In terms of sonics the Naxos disc may not be as weighty or tactile as Gielen’s, or as atmospheric as Leppard’s, but at least it isn’t as rough and ready as Horenstein’s. As for the much-lauded Philips sound for Haitink, it isn’t nearly as refulgent as I remember it. The EMI recording for Klemperer is big and bold and, in its GROC version at least, hardly shows its age at all.
And despite initial caveats about the Naxos soundstage I have to say the convulsive gong shudder at the start of Der Abschied is just electrifying, ushering in half-an-hour of sublime music and even more sublime singing. For me, Ludwig is sans pareil here, a perfect match for Klemperer’s stoicism, but I can assure you Henschel is just as commanding of mood and line. This is an abendrot like no other, the trembling air suffused with the scents of loveliness and decay. The Houstonians really do capture the evanescence of this music very well indeed; as for Graf, he maintains a sensible and steady pulse throughout, achieving a rare blend of poise and penetration as well. Thankfully the audience is very quiet, and there’s no applause at the end to break this deep, deep spell.
Is there an ideal recording of Das Lied von der Erde? Probably not, but as the talents of this newcomer are so prodigious and its faults so minor I’d say this one comes pretty close.
-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International
Moszkowski: Orchestral Music, Vol. 3 / Hobson, Sinfonia Varsovia
J.S. Bach: Partitas, BWV 825-830 on Lute-Harpsichord / Rübsam
Playwright Luise Gottsched, née Kulmus, in 1732 wrote a letter to her future husband, the writer Johann Christoph Gottsched: ‘The keyboard pieces sent over by Bach… are as difficult as they are beautiful. Even after playing them ten times, they still seem new to me.’ A few years later polymath and Bach’s former pupil Lorenz Christoph Mizler offered the following advice regarding these Clavier-Übung I partitas: ‘Anyone who has difficulties with keyboard fingering will find it difficult to learn the keyboard pieces written by the famous Mr. Bach in Leipzig’.
The name Sinfonia for the first movement in the Partita in C minor is redolent of opening cantata movements and the dotted rhythm of a French overture. The Grave adagio however, is not followed by the fugal fast section you would expect here. This approach was carried out more consistently and stylistically in the Partita in D major, although there the fast section approaches the form of a concerto. Instead, the Grave adagio of the Partita in C minor is followed by a sonata-like movement with an arabesque effect in the upper voice, followed by a lively fugato. As a result, the piece appears in three parts. In contrast, the opening Fantasia in the Partita in A minor is more akin to an invention, showing similarities with the opening section of the second English Suite of the same key. Moreover, since the 17th century, the distinction between the terms ‘Praeludium’ and ‘Praeambulum’ was insignificant. Yet Bach’s delicately sculpted Praeludium in the B flat major Partita, is stylistically very different from the concerto-like Praeambulum of the Partita in G major. Lastly, the Toccata in the Partita in E minor offers rhapsodic-improvisatory sections framing a fugue after the style of Froberg, whose works for keyboard instruments must have been known to Bach.
... And Serenity / Glenn Gould
Track Listing
Ferko - Sowerby: Organ Music / David Schrader
On a new double-album of solo organ works by Leo Sowerby (1895–1968) and another prominent Chicago composer, Frank Ferko (b. 1950), versatile keyboard virtuoso David Schrader plays four of Sowerby’s “greatest hits” for organ, including the monumental Symphony in G major, plus the rarely heard “March” from Suite for Organ, on the 68-rank Wicks Opus 2918 at St. Ita’s Catholic Church, Chicago. The world-premiere recording of Sowerby’s late Two Sketches is available on the album’s digital editions. Schrader plays a diverse program of eight Ferko compositions, all world-premiere recordings, including several based on music by 12th-century composer and Christian mystic Hildegard von Bingen. Schrader performs on three noteworthy manual-action organs at the House of Hope Presbyterian Church, St. Paul, Minnesota, including the instrument for which one of the works was specially written.
Orgelpunkt / Ludwig
| Rudolf von Beckerath built his very first organ for the St. Elisabeth Church in Hamburg. The "Opus 1" of the later world-famous organ builder has recently been restored to its former glory. Despite the extensive expansion of the instrument, it can still be played unchanged in its original state due to a technical refinement. Jens Ludwig presents the work with a personal selection and decided highlights of the baroque. Beckerath's original specification of 1951 could not be fully realized at that time for reasons of cost. 11 stops on two manuals had to suffice. Seven more stops were added a few years later, and this is the extent to which the instrument existed until its restoration in 2019. The clever double console houses Beckerath's original console on one side and its modern counterpart with four manuals opposite, which control both the "old" organ and its extension. This is an ideal symbiosis between conservation of the monument and innovative function. Whether Eurovision Fanfare, Toccata in D minor, Arrival of the Queen of Sheba, Handel's "Largo" or Bach-Gounod's "Ave Maria": you can almost sing along with this program. It is all the more beautiful to listen to the wonderful register colors, such as the trumpets in the main and swell sections in the pieces by Jeremiah Clarke, or the crumhorn in "Jesus bleibet meine Freude". The instrument is also excellently suited for chamber music or continuo playing. Here we hear Telemann's rarely performed viola concerto or CPE Bach's Hamburg Sonata in G major for flute and continuo. Most of the pieces have a direct connection to Hamburg. In the case of Telemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, this is obvious from their biographies. Bach and Handel also have their Hanseatic points of contact. And the pieces from France and England are easily justified by Hamburg's well-known internationalism. |
Christmas Meditation
Adam:
O Holy Night
Albinoni:
Adagio for Strings and Organ in G minor
Bach:
Air on the G string
Bruch:
Jubilate, Amen Op. 3
Bruckner:
Ave Maria
Corelli:
Concerto grosso Op. 6 No. 8 in G minor 'fatto per la notte di Natale'
Gabrieli, G:
Sacrae Symphoniae No. 2
Gounod:
Ave Maria
Grüber, F:
Stille Nacht
Handel:
Messiah: Pastoral Symphony 'Pifa'
Manfredini:
Concerto grosso in C major, Op. 3 No. 12 'per il Santissimo Natale'
Molter:
Concerto pastorale in G major
Mozart:
Laudate Dominum from Vesperae Solennes de Confessore, K339
Praetorius, M:
Kindelein zart von guter Art
Reger:
Mariä Wiegenlied, Op. 76 No. 52
Traditional:
Süsser die Glocken
O Jesulein Zart
Vivaldi:
The Four Seasons: Winter, RV297
Auryn's Haydn Vol 1 Of 14 - Op. 1 / Auryn Quartet
Composer: Joseph Haydn (1732 - 1809)
Performers:
Matthias Lingenfelder, violin
Jens Oppermann, violin
Stewart Eaton, viola
Andreas Arndt, violoncello
Track Listing:
Disc One:
1. String quartet op. 1 No. 1, Hoboken III:1 in B flat Major: Presto
2. Minuet - Minuet secondo - Minuet primo da Capo
3. Adagio
4. Minuet - Trio - Minuet da Capo
5. Finale. Presto
6. String quartet op. 1 No. 2, Hoboken III:2 in E flat Major Allegro molto
7. Minuet - Trio - Minuet da Capo
8. Adagio
9. Minuet - Trio - Minuet da Capo
10. Finale. Presto
11. String quartet op. 1 No. 3, Hoboken III:3 in D Major Adagio
12. Menuet - Trio - Menuet da Capo
13. (Scherzo). Presto
14. Menuet - Trio - Menuet da Capo
15. (Finale). Presto J
Disc Two:
1. String quartet op. 1 No. 4, Hoboken III:4 in G Major Presto
2. Minuet - Trio - Minuet da Capo
3. Adagio
4. Minuet - Trio - Minuet da Capo
5. Finale. Presto
6. String quartet op. 1 No. 0, Hoboken II:6 in E flat Major Presto
7. Menuet - Trio - Menuet da Capo
8. Adagio
9. Menuet - Trio - Menuet da Capo
10. (Finale). Presto
11. String quartet op. 1 No. 6, Hoboken III:6 in C Major Presto assai
12. Minuet - Trio - Minuet da Capo
13. Adagio
14. Minuet - Trio - Minuet da Capo
15. Finale. Allegro
Timing: 97:54
Weinberg: Piano Trio; Violin Sonatina; Double Bass Sonata
WEINBERG Piano Trio. 1,2,4 Sonatina for Violin and Piano. 1,3 Sonata for Solo Bass 5 • 1 Elisaveta Blumina (pn); 2 Kolja Blacher (vn); 3 Erez Ofer (vn); 4 Johannes Moser (vc); 5 Nabil Shehata (db) • CPO 777804-2 (68:23)
The music of Mieczys?aw Weinberg continues to be issued, and continues to impress. Like his British counterpart, York Bowen, Weinberg was a composer trapped in time and place, and it is good that their very different musics are now coming to the fore with such regularity. One of the wonderful things about this disc, aside from the committed, intense playing of the instrumentalists, is the sound: crisp and clear, with only a very little reverb, which brings the sound of the instruments into sharp focus and makes the listener pay attention to the music.
Like Bowen, Weinberg was largely a tonal composer, although heavily influenced by Bartók and his personal friend Shostakovich. Unlike Shostakovich, however, Weinberg seldom engaged in whining, overwrought musical breast-beating; his aesthetic was geared at bringing out intense personal feelings, but always with good taste and a less mocking or posturing tone. The piano trio that opens this disc is a perfect example. Weinberg immediately grabs our attention with a strident forte tremolo on the violin, and this sets the pace for the musical marvels that follow. The intensity of this piece was inspired, so the notes suggest, by Weinberg’s sight of Polish mothers with their children hugging the legs of Russian horses, begging the Soviet soldiers to let them come over because the Nazis were after them. It was that horrible, that terrifying, and the first movement of this trio reflects that mood. So, too, does the raw power of the ensuing Toccata, which builds up to a powerful fugue; and even the slow movement (“Poem”), which begins softly, still has an undercurrent of menace and unrest, which breaks out in the middle of the movement into an ostinato piano figure, receding in volume and intensity to a quiet, almost submissive ending with the violin playing soft, muted passages. The finale does not toy with a fugue, as did the second movement, but builds up through its quiet opening into a really complex and powerful fugue—oddly enough, based on entirely different thematic material from the opening, which sounds like a Bachian fugue theme. This is clearly one of Weinberg’s masterpieces.
Where do we go from here? To the sonatina for violin and piano from 1946, a piece that sounds like the diametric opposite of the trio. Set primarily in D Minor, but vacillating in and out of F major, the sonatina has touches of melancholy about it, but is primarily a lyrical work with what may be termed episodes of sadness. Here, too, some of the melancholy passages sound related to Jewish folk music without ever really using genuine themes. But ever and anon, Weinberg holds your interest through his amazingly creative sense of construction (would that many of our modern-day American wunderkind composers listen to his work and pay heed to what he does). Nothing in Weinberg’s work is ever flippant, thoughtless, or peripheral; he thinks in terms of the whole picture without sacrificing the detail of internal episodes.
One should be forgiven for thinking in advance that to end this disc with a solo sonata for the rather lugubrious-sounding double bass would be a bit of a downer; after all, solo bass sonatas don’t exactly grow on trees. Yet, after an almost predictably slow first movement, Weinberg becomes much more involved in writing music and not necessarily just writing for the bass, if you know what I mean. His creative forces flowed in one direction, which was towards the creation of fascinating musical forms, and never towards empty virtuosity or just “filling space” with his music. Thus the potential interpreter needs to stay focused not so much on the technical challenges (and there are many in this sonata) as on the musical progression and what it means in terms of expressive content. (I fond it interesting, in the notes, to read that bassist Shehata thinks of it as more “similar to a suite in which each movement is structured very clearly thematically.”) I also noted that, aside from its musical marvels, Weinberg manages to elicit some very interesting sounds from the bass, including percussive effects that almost make it resound like an organ—or, in the last movement, pushing it up into the cello range.
The playing of each musician on this disc, from pianist-director Blumina to double bassist Shehata, is simply astonishing, so deeply rooted in the music that it seems to be an extension of the notes on the page, not an extension of a virtuoso who says to the listener, “Look at me, I’m wonderful!” It is virtuosity that consistently serves the composer and his message, not the ego of the performer. This is a truly great disc.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Bel Canto Paganini / Rachel Barton Pine
For example, she observes all of the repeats. That might prove deadly in the lengthy No. 4 C minor Maestoso caprice or the No. 6 G minor trill study, yet Pine’s wide expressive and coloristic palette keeps the music alive and meaningful. What is more, she does this without resorting to exaggerated phrasings or dynamic swells.
Her slow and serious No. 13 bypasses the surface humor of the descending “laughing” chromatic thirds while emphasizing the composer’s dolce marking in figurative red ink. The fanfare-like gestures that open the E-flat Caprices Nos. 19 and 23 become provocatively wistful themes, while No. 18’s arpeggiated C major proclamations become softer, more questioning than usual, followed by descending scales that sound more like music than exercises. However, don’t expect scintillation and surface bravura, which James Ehnes serves up in tandem with sound musical values.
Interestingly, Pine lets loose and catches fire in her own Paganini-inspired Variations on “God Defend New Zealand”, proving that she could very well match Perlman, Rabin, Ricci, and Midori at their ebullient peaks. Whether or not Pine’s Paganini will suit all tastes, she unquestionably commands the ways and means to make the best possible case for her conceptions.
– ClassicsToday (Jed Distler)
Pine is principally interested in the musical qualities of these extraordinary, endlessly inventive miniatures, and there’s hardly a moment here where you get any sense of technique taking precedence over expression.
She finds a wonderfully rich range of colors. Double-stopped octaves can almost vanish into the melody (as in No 7), give a fanfare figure a heroic echo (Nos 19 and 23) or throw an eerie shadow like some operatic mad scene (No 15)—as the music demands. Her characterisation is beguiling: Pine lets minor-key melodies droop to a finish, plays teasingly with the rhythmic sideslips of No 13 and makes the famous left-hand pizzicato in No 24 burst like popping candy.
– Gramophone
Johann Stamitz: Flute Concertos / Aitken, Katkus
J. W. STAMITZ Flute Concertos: in D; in C; in D; in G • Robert Aitken (fl); Donatas Katkus, cond; St. Christopher CO • NAXOS 8.570150 (69:15)
The music of Johann Stamitz (1717–57) is largely known through a handful of works. For clarinetists, the B? Concerto is arguably one of (if not the) earliest written for the instrument that uses both the upper clarion and the lower chalumeau registers, and thus earns its reputation for its modernity. Orchestral trios foreshadow the emerging symphony; and his later works, including the La melodia germanica series published in Paris in 1756, not only are some of the earliest to establish the four-movement conventional symphonic pattern, but they also popularized the orchestral effects associated with the Mannheim orchestra, of which Stamitz was the concertmaster. These include rapid scales (the so-called coup d’archet ), the layered crescendo (the original Mannheim steamroller), and the rapidly ascending triads known as the Mannheim rocket. Less well known is the fact that he was a prolific composer, who, in his position, was able to experiment with the capabilities of his instruments, the various textures that could be obtained, and with form and structure. As a result, his efforts had far-reaching impacts upon the music and composers that followed him.
Stamitz was active during a period that one either can characterize as galant or (to borrow a term from literature) empfindsam . Both of these are tricky to translate accurately in musical terms, the former meaning something like “polite” or “well bred” and the latter “emotional” or “sensitive” (and there are other words that work as well). But what it really means for the listener is that there is a new sense of freedom to explore the capabilities of the music, to play with rhythm and contrast, and to develop new genres and styles. This disc presents four of his flute concertos, probably written for Johann Baptist Wendling, a flutist who was arguably one of the best of the entire century. Considering that the instrument was made of wood and had only a couple of keys, both the tone production and technical capability was limited, making the instrument more appropriate to chamber work than playing versus an orchestra, particularly one the size and power of Mannheim. In all four works, Stamitz demonstrates a skill that focuses on a dazzling display of technical virtuosity that is rarely overshadowed by the accompaniment. Even when he adds horns, as he does in the two D-Major concertos, the use is sensitive to the overall sonority. As for the flute part itself, if the listener, spoiled by the long, lyrical lines and regular phrases of the two Mozart pieces, seeks such in these works, disappointment will follow. Instead, there is a virtual compendium of pyrotechnics that leaves the listener breathless (not to mention the poor flutist). Rapid runs, leaps between registers, perpetual-motion figuration, and the rapid oscillation between duple and triple rhythms make this a flute virtuoso’s delight, as these works push the envelope of what is technically possible with the instrument. Moreover, in the C-Major Concerto, even the orchestral ritornello is technically demanding for the strings. These are not student works, but require the utmost of agility and ability to perform.
Aitken, fortunately, is quite up to the task. He takes the break-neck tempos of the opening movements with apparent ease and clarity of tone, allowing the display to come through. In the slow movements, he pulls back the throttle, but never enough to dull the sometimes-sensitive lyrical writing. For instance, in the C-Major Concerto, the second movement’s minor key, replete with echo effects, is delineated with precision and displays considerable musical deftness. In the G-Major final movement, he allows for the folk-like main theme to peer through the leaps and runs, providing a contrast that is both pleasing and a welcome relief to the pyrotechnics. Only occasionally does he blur his scales and leaps, though this may be an aftereffect of using a modern instrument.
The Lithuanian St. Christopher group provides a precise and understated accompaniment. One might have wished for more presence in the recording, but perhaps this was a decision by the sound engineer to focus on the flute. It is true that the music on this disc is mostly all about the flute and its ability, and this lends a certain sameness to each of the concertos, but if one concentrates upon the remarkable technical display, then one will find a perfect example of what can happen when a composer of this pivotal period pushes the aerobatic envelope of a more reticent and intimate instrument. We would be lucky to have the remaining 10 recorded in the future. Highly recommended.
FANFARE: Bertil van Boer
Johann Stamitz is a name well known in musical history, but his voice is seldom heard. This latest Naxos disc of flute concertos - two volumes of symphonies and one of orchestral trios are already available - is therefore a welcome release.
Famous as a virtuoso violinist and then as Kapellmeister of the celebrated Mannheim court orchestra, Stamitz presided over the establishment of that band of players and over the development of what became the ‘Mannheim style’ – disciplined playing, thrilling dynamics and innovative instrumentation. He played a key role in developing the symphonic form, and in transforming musical composition from the Baroque style to the nascent Classical sound.
As well as symphonies, Stamitz left behind a large number of concertos, including fourteen for flute. The four featured on this disc probably date from the 1750s and may well have been played by the Elector Carl Theodor, and by Mannheim virtuoso Johann Baptist Wendling, who so impressed Mozart on his visit to Paris in 1763 and Mannheim in 1777-78.
They are beautiful works, but the main problem is that there is little to distinguish one from the other. The two D major concertos in particular sound very much alike, although the horn parts in the second at least differentiate it from it predecessor. The C major concerto’s shift into C minor for the slow Andante offers some tonal variety, while rapid triplet figures for the soloist in the first movement keep the momentum alive.
But one cannot escape the feeling that these works were really vehicles for Wendling’s – or someone else’s – prodigious talents. Attention therefore falls on soloist Robert Aitken. His flawless technique and lightness of touch make him perfectly suited to this kind of repertoire. He is particularly impressive in the hugely demanding cadenzas in each concerto, although his forward positioning in the recording can make the flute sound a little shrill on the ear in some of the higher registers.
For their part, the St Christopher (formerly Vilnius) Chamber Orchestra under Donatus Katkus have few opportunities to shine. Nevertheless, they keep the accompaniment chugging along nicely, hinting at Haydnesque and Mozartian sounds to come.
-- John-Pierre Joyce, MusicWeb International
Fantasia - Mozart on the Organ
Landmarks: 40 Years of Chandos
Each recording in this 40-disc set has been selected by Chandos Managing Director, Ralph Couzens, son of the label founder, because it represents a turning point, or ‘Landmark’, in the development of the label.
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Founded by Brian Couzens in 1979, Chandos quickly established itself as one of the world’s leading classical labels. The ‘Chandos Sound’ has become a benchmark for quality, renowned alike among artists and critics around the globe.
From its inception, Chandos has specialised in recording British music, and in bringing lesser-known (and unknown) music to public attention. Released to celebrate the 40th Anniversary of the label, this handsomely packaged 40-disc set comprises 40 complete recordings from Chandos’ extensive catalogue.
Each of the four decades is represented, and each recording has been hand-picked by the Managing Director, Ralph Couzens, because it represents a turning point, or ‘Landmark’, in the development of the label.
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Excerpts from select reviews of previously released volumes included in this set:
Prokofiev: Symphony No 6, Waltzes Suite, Etc. / Järvi, Royal Scottish National Orchestra - NLA
This 1984 recording put the somewhat neglected Sixth Symphony of Prokofiev back on the musical map; it remains on balance the finest available.
– ClassicsToday.com
Vaughan Williams: London Symphony; Butterworth: Banks of Green Willow / Hickox, LSO
Conductor and orchestra respond with an unquenchable spirit, generous flexibility and tender affection that suit VW’s admirably ambitious inspiration to a T, and Chandos’s sound is big and bold to match. Quite simply, an essential purchase for anyone remotely interested in British music.
– Gramophone
Ravel, Debussy & Massenet / Bavouzet, Tortelier, BBC Symphony
Bavouzet gets the tempo changes in Ravel's G Major Concerto absolutely right, following up with one of the most songfully flowing and elegantly shaped accounts of the Adagio on disc, and concluding with an absolutely scorching finale. The Massenet encores are both novel and delightful.
– ClassicsToday.com
Fuchs: Serenades Nos. 1 & 2 / Christian Ludwig, Cologne Chamber Orchestra

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
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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
Liszt: etudes d'execution transcendante
J.S. Bach: Famous Works
Liberte
Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition / Shelest
MUSSORGSKY Pictures at an Exhibition. GLINKA The Lark. TCHAIKOVSKY Romances: in f; in F. Waltzes: in A?; in f?. Nocturne in F • Anna Shelest (pn) • SHELEST 47553 (66:32)
The spate of new recordings of Pictures at an Exhibition continues unabated, there having been eight new recordings of the piano original added to my archive since I wrote my first Fanfare review of Michael Seewann’s traversal of the work in November of 2010. That averages out to two new piano versions per month. It would seem fair to state that Pictures has achieved “rite of passage” status among up-and-coming pianists, as well as among down-and-going pianists, and even middle-and-stagnating pianists.
Ukrainian-born Anna Shelest is definitely in the “up-and-coming” group. She was the youngest-ever prizewinner of the Milosz Magin International Piano Competition at the tender age of 11. Since then, she has studied with Jerome Lowenthal, won a lot of contests (Bradshaw-Buono, Louisiana International, Kawai American, Corpus Christi International, etc.), soloed with a lot of orchestras, and received a lot of critical acclaim (a “female reincarnation of Liszt,” a “piano lioness,” etc.), to which I shall add some of my own, although it will be a slightly qualified rave.
Shelest’s approach to Pictures is bold and extroverted. At one time I might have dared to say “masculine,” but I suppose in this day and age, I couldn’t get by with such a characterization. Because of the nature of this work, such an approach is appropriate most of the time. Her rendition of “Byd?o,” to cite one example, really induces the listener to hear oxen lumbering and straining under their burdens. Similarly, in “Great Gate,” her extroverted playing reinforces the grandeur of the movement as the apotheosis of the entire suite. I also very much like her rhythmic license in “Goldenberg” and forceful dispatch of the final eighth notes in measures 22 and 23, serving to show Goldenberg’s utter disdain for his poor cousin Schmuÿle. “Gnomus” is filled with wonderful dynamic contrasts, just the way it should be. The more delicate sections, such as the second promenade or “Il vecchio castello,” are subtly nuanced in a most effective way. Her slight hesitations here and there in the theme of “Tuilleries” suggest the impetuousness of youth. These and dozens of other touches combine to make this a superior reading of the work.
Nevertheless, Shelest falters in a few places: Her “Ballet of Unhatched Chicks,” with her bold approach, sounds more like a ballet of fully-grown chickens. It’s deftly played, but just too heavy-handed. Parts of “Gnomus,” particularly the trilled section beginning in measure 72, don’t sound menacing enough to me. Shelest uses a measured tremolo in “Cum mortuis” rather than the unmeasured one employed by a majority of pianists. The 32nd-note markings of the passage can legitimately be interpreted either way, but a fast, unmeasured tremolo produces more mystery in the piece. In “Limoges,” she omits the sforzandi in measures 2 and 4, and other similar places, a failing since these markings emphasize the animated and breathless nature of the gossip that is being portrayed in this picture.
Perhaps the thing that caught me most by surprise in Shelest’s rendition comes in measure 21 of “Catacombs.” In some editions, there is no tie in the low A between that and the preceding measure (it is in the autograph), but Shelest not only foregoes the tie, but changes the bass pitch to G, which is a reading not in any of the 10 different editions I own. This doesn’t sound bad, but mind you, it is what a composer possessed with less genius than Mussorgsky would have done, as the G then matches the chord above it. By sustaining the A through that measure and two beats of the following one, Mussorgsky maintains suspense that is finally relieved in very dramatic fashion on beat 3 of measure 22.
These and a few other things are all relatively minor shortcomings, to be sure, but cumulatively prevent me from ranking this version in the very top echelon of recordings of Pictures. Still, it is certainly worth hearing by Pictures enthusiasts.
I admit that I’m considerably easier to please on any piano piece outside of Pictures at an Exhibition, and Shelest pleases me very much in the other Russian pieces on this disc. The bold and assertive treatment she brings to Mussorgsky is not heard in these other pieces, where it would be much less appropriate. The very Lisztian Lark by Glinka, arranged by Balakirev, is a good case in point. Its delicate opening calls for tender restraint, which is exactly what Shelest provides. Later, in its cadenza-like flourishes, she ramps up the drama, but only according to the demands of the music. Likewise, her delineation of the style of the lyric opening of Tchaikovsky’s Romance in F Minor against the trepak-like middle section sounds exactly right, as does her minimal pedaling in his Waltz in A?. Shelest is in her element in the rhapsodic Romance in F Major, bringing improvisatory-like freedom to her conception of the piece. In the very unwaltz-like Waltz in F?-Minor, with its lyrical question and staccato answer, the listener is brought into the dialogue that is going on in the piece. Tchaikovsky’s Nocturne in F Major is constructed upon gentle repeated chords, to which Shelest brings just the right amount of separation, again exercising caution in her pedaling.
This is, then, a most satisfying recital, with decent recorded piano sound. There are no notes provided about the music, but only about the performer, an indication (among others) that the CD is self-published to promote the artist. I have no issue, however, with a young woman possessing talent—and lots of it—making her talent known and accessible to others. I’m not sure where else it may be found, but this CD is easily available through Shelest’s website, annashelest.com.
FANFARE: David DeBoor Canfield
French Album / Jose Federico Osorio
Distinguished international pianist Jorge Federico Osorio brings his flair for French music to works of the Baroque, Romantic, and early 20th century eras by Jean-Philippe Rameau, Emmanuel Chabrier, Gabriel Fauré, Claude Debussy, and Maurice Ravel. Fittingly, Osorio opens The French Album with Fauré’s exquisite Pavane and concludes with the ever-popular Pavane pour une enfante défunte by Fauré’s student, Ravel. The Mexican-born, European-trained pianist offers eight of Debussy’s pictorial Préludes, each with its unique sound world, including the mystical La Cathédrale engloutie, one of the most stunning pieces ever composed for piano. Another audience favorite is Debussy’s evocative Claire de lune from his Suite bergamasque. Providing contrast, Rameau’s whimsical Les Tricotets conjures the back-and-forth motion of knitting needles. A set of Spanish-flavored works include Chabrier’s Cuban-inspired Habanera; Debussy’s lively La Puerta del Vino, depicting sailors carousing and enjoying their wine, and La soirée dans Grenade, where the piano imitates the sound of a guitar; and Ravel’s Alborado del gracioso, brimming with Iberian rhythms.
REVIEW:
What appears to be a hodgepodge of French pieces actually emerges as a carefully crafted program. Pianist Jorge Federico Osorio begins with Fauré’s famous Pavane, where his elegant phrasing and fluid “walking” tempo assiduously segue into a well-contrasted Debussy group. He brings a strong rhythmic profile and dry-point clarity to works dominated by rapid passagework such as Les collines d’Anacapri, Ce qu’a vu le vent d’Ouest, and Feux d’artifice, as well as Ravel’s Alborada del gracioso.
While Osorio certainly embraces the sensual undercurrents in Clair de lune, Voiles, Feuilles mortes, and La cathédrale engloutie, the climaxes have plenty of backbone. The pianist similarly integrates curvaceous lilt and unsentimental grit in Chabrier’s Habanera and Debussy’s habanera-like La Puerta del Vino and La soirée dans Grenade. Three selections from Rameau’s G major Suite stand out for Osorio’s care over ornaments, although his slightly heavy way with the final selection, Ravel’s Pavane, misses the animation and flexibility of the old Gieseking and Casadesus recordings. All told, an enjoyable and well-put-together recital.
– ClassicsToday.com (Jed Distler)
Schieferdecker: Geistliche Konzerte
SCHIEFERDECKER Triumph, Belial ist nun erleget. Auf, auf, mein Herz. In te Domine speravi. Weicht, ihr schwarzen Trauerwolken. Concertos: No. 9 in g; No. 13 in c • Simone Eckert, cond; Klaus Mertens (bs); Jan Kobow (ten); Hamburger Ratsmusik (period instruments) • CARUS 83.398 (62:18 Text and Translation)
For someone as obscure as Johann Christian Schieferdecker, a pupil of Buxtehude, he certainly has gotten his share of play recently. Not only has my colleague Michael Carter reviewed one of the concertos ( Fanfare 34:3) but another, Jerry Dubins, reviewed and recommended an entire disc of these instrumental works in a recent issue ( Fanfare 35:6) performed by the Elbipolis Hamburg period-instrument ensemble on Challenge. Both found them recommendable, though the latter seemed reticent on whether or not Schieferdecker represents a marvelous new rediscovery. This disc may not decide that issue, but I do find it curious that in the space of a very short time, a composer who was completely dissed by Johann Mattheson, the early chronicler of Hamburg music but who grew up practically as the blood brother of Reinhard Keiser, should suddenly emerge from shadows. Maybe it is something in the water in Hamburg, or maybe this relatively new period-instrument ensemble there decided that it was tired of the giants, C. P. E. Bach and Georg Philipp Telemann. Or maybe this is Schieferdecker’s 15 minutes of fame in the world of recorded music. Whatever the reason, we now have a selection of his compositions that demonstrates his ability and talent in the midst of other better-known figures.
Schieferdecker was, by any stretch of the imagination, a solid, well-educated, and talented composer. He was the son of an organist, attended school in Leipzig where he wrote his first operas, and returned to Hamburg to become a colleague of Telemann, Keiser, Mattheson, and Handel, toiling away in the opera house there. When Buxtehude sought a successor, it was Schieferdecker who was able to walk away with the job. Apparently he did not have the same qualms about marrying Buxtehude’s long-in-the-tooth daughter as his other friends, and when she died a couple of years later, he raised their child to continue the musical succession. As a composer, he was a chronological contemporary of Telemann (though he died in 1732, more than three decades before his colleague), but it is not clear exactly how much music he actually wrote. There were about a dozen operas written for Leipzig and Hamburg (all seemingly lost), and he certainly was active in Lübeck as Buxtehude’s successor, writing Abendmusik , pieces for organ, and in 1713 publishing a set of 12 Musicalische Concerte (probably best translated literally as “Musical Concerts,” rather than concertos, but in the insecure generic designation of the time indicating simply pieces—in this case each a rather conventional French suite). This disc, however, presents a somewhat old-fashioned throwback to the previous century in the form of the sacred concerto, which by the 18th century had long gone out of practice. These pieces, in reality sort of proto-cantatas each ending with a chorale, form a sort of halfway house between the traditional Baroque Lutheran cantata and the more amorphous Abendmusik , this defined as miniature movements of a contemplative nature. It is not known when he wrote the four pieces here, but the sparse setting of a voice and minimal string accompaniment with continuo may indicate that these are early works, possibly even about 1700. As these are the only ones that apparently have survived, the disc is filled out with two suites from the 1713 set, both of which were recorded on the aforementioned Challenge disc.
Three of these sacred concertos are in German, and one uses a Latin text that was often used as an offertory (the “In te Domine speravi” movement diverges from its other usage as the final portion of the Te Deum hymn). All are very much in the vein of Buxtehude, with the voice accompanied by a pair of violins and continuo. The Latin concerto omits one of the violin parts, in essence becoming a more common solo cantata. Many of the violin lines seem to remind one of Henry Purcell, with brief fanfares (such as in “Triumph, Belial ist nun erleget”) and the occasional use of the ground bass. But in that same concerto, the second aria, “Wenn die Bosheit,” reduces things to a continuo, lending a sort of Scarlatti feel. The chorales often use the solo voice in hymnlike fashion above some nice countermelodies in the violins, such as in the “Gott Vater” of Auf, auf mein Herz . The harmony can also be a bit gnarly, with unexpected twists and sudden non-sequitur chords shifting it momentarily. The finest example of this is in the opening aria of Weicht, ihr schwarzen Trauerwolken . And occasionally there is a rapid-fire parlando delivery of the text (“Sicut erat” in In te Domine speravi ) that brings to mind a sort of Baroque rap, telescoping the line on a single pitch in a way that is quite remarkable.
The performance by the group Hamburger Ratsmusik is extremely good. They are all on pitch, handle the twisting and turning violin lines with ease, and there is a nice pacing by viol player Simone Eckert, who also conducts the ensemble. Their sensitive playing is the reason some of the odder moments do not become musical parodies, but rather demonstrate Schieferdecker’s sometimes unique compositional method. Klaus Mertens, of course, does his usual stellar job. This is just the sort of music he excels in, and his flexible bass handles the composer’s often unusual melodic contours perfectly. Tenor Jan Kobow, too, does an outstanding job in his one outing, the Latin concerto, being nicely on pitch and cognizant of the compositional peculiarities.
Echoing my colleague, I sincerely doubt that Schieferdecker is the next Baroque sensation on the horizon. For one thing, there isn’t that much left, barring a rediscovery of the lost operas or some other archival treasure trove. For another, the music is perhaps too quirky in terms of substance and style compared with his other Hamburg compatriots, all of whom went on to achieve major status in the musical world. But what remains as on this disc offers enough unusual variety to be worth a listen, and given that the performance here by the Ratsmusik is solid and well done, one would not go astray by including this in one’s collection.
FANFARE: Bertil van Boer
Holst: St Paul's Suite; Warlock: Capriol Suite/ Sir Adrian Boult, Vernon Handley
Michael BALFE (1808-1870)
The Bohemian Girl: Galop (1843) [1:26]
Philharmonia Orchestra/Nicholas Braithwaite
Sir Edward ELGAR (1857-1934)
Variations on an Original Theme ‘Enigma’ Op. 36: X. Dorabella (1899) [2:41]
Pomp and Circumstance March No. 5 in C Op. 39 (1930) [5:41]
New Philharmonia Orchestra/Andrew Davis
Frederick DELIUS (1862-1934)
A Village Romeo and Juliet: The Walk to the Paradise Garden (1905) [10:49]
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Myer Fredman
Percy GRAINGER (1882-1961)
Shepherd’s Hey; The Immovable Do (1908-13; 1933-42) [2:11; 5:04]
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Nicholas Braithwaite
Sir Hamilton HARTY (1879-1941)
An Irish Symphony: The Fair-Day (1904) [3:01]
New Philharmonia Orchestra/Vernon Handley
Peter WARLOCK (1894-1930)
Capriol, Suite for full orchestra (1926-28) [9:47]
London Symphony Orchestra/Nicholas Braithwaite
Lord BERNERS (1883-1950)
The Triumph of Neptune: Hornpipe (1926) [1:50]
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Nicholas Braithwaite
Gustav HOLST (1874-1934)
St. Paul’s Suite for strings Op. 29 No. 2 (1913) [13:28]
English Chamber Orchestra/Imogen Holst
Ralph VAUGHAN WILLIAMS (1872-1958)
Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis (1910) [16:08]
rec. Jan 1979, Kingsway Hall (Balfe); Jan 1974, Walthamstow Assembly Hall (Elgar); Jan 1970, Walthamstow Assembly Hall (Delius); Aug 1978, Kingsway Hall (Grainger; Berners); April 1976, Kingsway Hall (Harty); Sept 1978, Watford Town Hall (Warlock); Jan 1968, Walthamstow Assembly Hall (RVW)
R E V I E W:
A fine introduction to Musical Britain
When I first saw the advert for this CD I assumed that it was the ‘sweepings up’ from the floor of the Lyrita studios: it was all the bits and pieces from their vinyl pressings that could not find a home elsewhere. Yet two things made me modify that view. Firstly I know that there is a vast amount of material awaiting re-release (the mono recordings of Jacob, White, Ireland and Wordsworth, for example) and secondly, as I listened to this CD I realised that it made a fine introduction to Musical Britain. I remember as a child books called the ‘Boy’s Guide to’ … Field-craft, Trains, Racing Cars et al. Perhaps this, in a more PC age, could be referred to as the "Individual’s Guide to British Music"?
The CD opens with a piece that was written when Great Britain was a ‘land without music.’ The Galop is probably the most famous excerpt from Michael Balfe’s best known opera: The Bohemian Girl. And of course it was once a Tommy Beecham ‘Lollipop’. Perhaps Balfe’s twenty-nine operas do not signify in the early 21st century when compared to G&S, Tippett or Benjamin Britten, but in his day he was a seriously popular composer. And Ireland – Balfe was born in Dublin - was at that time part of the United Kingdom!
I usually baulk at excerpting from Elgar’s Enigma Variations. My exception is the annual outing of Nimrod at the Cenotaph: I can forgive anything in those circumstances. So I suppose I am not really happy about one short variation being given here. Yet here it is - Dorabella which follows on from Nimrod and is a complete change of tone, mood and emotion. We hear the ‘stammering lightness’ and ‘merry chatter’ of Elgar’s helper and admired Dora Penny. It is a lovely piece that actually does stand alone … just about … although I feel that it is much more telling and effective following that great Beethovenian variation in the complete work.
And how often do we hear the P&C March No.5? Even enthusiasts of ‘Grunge’ cannot have avoided ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ in their lives’ journey. But how many know the other four (five)? I guess most people over the age of thirty-five will recall No. 4 in G being played as the recessional at the Prince and Princess of Wales’s wedding. The rest are little known and rarely heard. But please note that this late - it was composed four years before Elgar’s death - march is rather good. And the interesting thing is that most of us come to it afresh. It has not accrued the baggage - good, bad and indifferent - of being an alternative National Anthem played at the Proms.
I am not an opera fan, but I have always loved The Walk to Paradise Garden by Fred Delius. I know the opera A Village Romeo and Juliet and realise that it has a tragic context in that work. However, I got to know the piece on an old Beecham release of Delius orchestral works on Decca Eclipse and have had my own programme for this work ever since! So I suggest that listeners dump the libretto and see this piece as a nature poem – descriptive of whatever landscape or mindscape moves them most.
Percy Grainger is a rare personality. He wrote a vast amount of music that is little played these days. I am not a fan of his, yet I do appreciate that he was probably a wayward genius. And a few of his works do have the capacity to move me: most I find entertaining. The majority of listeners will know his ubiquitous Country Gardens which was arranged for just about every instrumental combination possible. Yet Shepherd’s Hey and the Immovable Do presented here deserve greater popularity. The latter piece was inspired by a leaking harmonium which continually sounded a ‘high C’ throughout the performance of whatever Grainger was playing. Shepherd’s Hey is based on the folk tune ‘The Keel Row’. Incidentally, the score was dedicated to Edvard Grieg. Both miniatures are worthy additions to the repertoire and would make excellent encores - if given the chance.
Our musical exploration moves back to Ireland. This time it is the second movement of Sir Hamilton Harty’s fine Irish Symphony – subtitled The Fair-Day. Most people will associate Harty with the Hallé Orchestra which he conducted between 1920 and 1933. Yet he was also an accomplished composer who wrote not only the present work but a wonderful piano concerto, a violin concerto and a number of other excellent pieces. Fortunately, most of these were released on Chandos a number of years ago and are still available. Additionally, Naxos has contributed their recordings of the Symphony and the Piano Concerto. Harty is a composer well worth investigating. The present piece is a fine evocation of a ‘Fair Day’ in Ireland that must have been familiar to the composer as a young man. Look out for the fiddler tuning up and the fine reel!
Everyone knows that Peter Warlock was a pseudonym. His real name was Philip Heseltine. He took the name of Warlock after some involvement with occult mysteries after time spent in Ireland during the Great War. More often noted for his superb songs, Warlock composed a mere handful of works for orchestral forces – including An Old Song, the Serenade for Frederick Delius and the Capriol Suite. Best known in its string orchestra incarnation, this latter work was originally given as a piano duet. Latterly it was arranged for full orchestra – this is the version we hear on this CD. The Suite is based on tunes found in an antique dissertation called ‘Orchesography’ which was supposedly penned by a certain ‘Capriol’. The programme notes inform us that the Suite was rejected by a number of publishers: this is hard to imagine since we now regard the work as one of the minor masterpieces of 20th century music. Apparently Warlock sold the work for a mere 25 guineas!
Lord Berners’ real name is much more impressive – Gerald Hugh Tyrwhitt-Wilson: it sounds as if it were straight out of a P.G. Wodehouse novel. He was an artist and a ballet producer whose day-job appeared to be that of a diplomat. Moving in the rarefied atmosphere of the Sitwells it is not surprising that he was an eccentric. The Triumphs of Neptune was conceived by Sacheverell and eventually became a successful feature for the Ballets Russes. The Hornpipe does not press on to the limits of musical invention, but it is attractive and does justice to its nautical origins. It is well worth discovering other music by this fascinating, if somewhat odd, composer.
Gustav Holst’s St Paul’s Suite surely needs no introduction or recommendation to readers of these pages. Yet sometimes it is easy to forget that this work comes from the same pen as The Planets. The work is conducted here by the composer’s daughter Imogen: to my ear it is one of the best recordings of this work in the repertoire. It is a Suite that must be listened to in its entirety and not excerpted.
The last piece is a major masterpiece. Along with Tippett’s Double Concerto and Elgar’s Introduction and Allegro it is one of the most important essays in string writing in British musical literature. The Tallis Fantasia is a work that seems to gather up the whole tradition of England – its landscape, its literature and its religion. It is impossible to listen to this work without being aware of the whole sweep of history – both musical and otherwise. In one sense it is a timeless work, yet in another it is as much a part of twentieth century music as Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue or Berg’s Violin Concerto. The Fantasia is a visionary score which marked its composer out as a major figure in the British musical scene.
Most cognoscenti of British music will have all these works in their CD collections. This release is a bit of a pot-pourri. Yet consider this. It is good to take the opportunity of listening to a variety of pieces played end to end - now and again; it reminds us of our whole musical heritage. And lastly if you know anyone who is edging towards an appreciation of the native music of the British Isles – this is the present for them. In either case – Buy it!
-- John France, MusicWeb International
MOZART: VIOLIN CONCERTOS NOS. 3 & 5
Bach: Orchestral Suites
Not, at any rate, in these performances from a virtuoso German ensemble hailing from Bach’s own part of the world and masterminded by a superb trumpeter-turned-conductor who well understands the exuberant, public character of these suites, their occasional purposes, for all that in such moments as the famous Air from the G major Suite, No.3, they appear to take on a more confiding aspect, drawing the listener in before dispelling the tension with another jolly minuet or charming sarabande.
This generously filled CD presents the complete Orchestral Suites (Overtures) by J.S. Bach. Bach’s Suites count among his most popular and most frequently performed works, they are quintessential Bach: majestic, noble, tender and full of energy. They contain some of Bach’s evergreens: the Air from the 3rd Suite and the Badinerie from the 2nd Suite.
Played by the Virtuosi Saxoniae conducted by trumpeter-conductor Ludwig Güttler, modern instruments in Historically Informed Performance Practice, the best of both worlds. - Brilliant Classics