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SaleChopin: Sonata No. 2, Op. 35; 4 Scherzi; Polonaise, Op. 53 / Sophia Agranovich
Centaur Records · Oct 2020CD$17.99$13.99 -
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SaleBrahms: Complete Sonatas for Violin & Piano / Darvarova, Chen
Solo Musica · Feb 2019CD$20.99$10.49 -
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Brun: Complete Orchestral Works / Adriano, Moscow Symphony, Bratislava Symphony
Brilliant Classics · Jun 2019CD$54.99 -
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SaleLorraine - Bach: Mein Herze Schwimmt Im Blut / Hunt Lieberson, Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra
Yarlung Records · Mar 2013CD$21.99$16.99 -
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Bruno Walter Conducts Bruckner's 4th And 9th Symphonies
Music and Arts Programs of America · Jul 2012CD$32.99
Martha Argerich In New York, 1966
Chopin: Sonata No. 2, Op. 35; 4 Scherzi; Polonaise, Op. 53 / Sophia Agranovich
Sophia Agranovich adores the piano works of Chopin, and it shows in these deeply-felt performances. Internationally acclaimed soloist, chamber musician, recording artist and educator, Sophia Agranovich is “a bold, daring pianist in the tradition of the Golden Age Romantics…A tigress of the keyboard” – Fanfare. Her performances are captivating audiences by the “orison of uncommon beauty” – Audiophile, “the extraordinary dramatic urgency”, “the ideal balance she achieves between the intellectual and the emotional” – Fanfare, “interpretation that dares to be different”, “magnificent shading and superior musicianship” – American Record Guide. Sophia Agranovich is an esteemed pedagogue, lecturer, master class clinician, adjudicator, and is a recipient of numerous teaching awards. Her students are consistently winning top prizes in regional, national and international competitions and are performing at prestigious venues. Ms. Agranovich is active member of various professional music organizations, listed in Who’s Who in America and Who’s Who in the World, a voting member of NARAS, Artistic Director of ‘Classicals at the Circle’ music series at the Watchung Arts Center, Program Chair and Board member of Music Educators Association of New Jersey.
Mahler & Zemlinsky: Symphony No. 6
Liszt: Complete Piano Music Vol 15 / Konstantin Scherbakov

Franz Liszt viewed his solo piano transcriptions of the Beethoven Symphonies as a means to disseminate these works and make them accessible to the general public. This, of course, was decades before Edison invented recorded sound, and a century before umpteen Beethoven cycles jockeyed for position on the CD racks. Why listen to Beethoven's symphonies on the piano, then, when orchestral versions are everywhere to be had? I can answer that question in four words: Liszt was a genius. He conveys the emotional essence of Beethoven's instrumentation in pianistic terms, with a sixth sense for when to fill in textures, as well as what to leave out. While the piano writing isn't particularly dense, the keyboard layout involves frequent register shifts and busy contrapuntal activity. Konstantin Scherbakov's stupendous technique and grounded musicianship allows him to bring these elements into play with fluent ease and rock-solid rhythm. He may not inflect the Fifth Symphony's slow movement as ravishingly as Glenn Gould, but he faces the finale's notey hurdles without resorting to Gould's overdubbing tactics.
The Second Symphony is even better. Scherbakov's swift and steady first movement introduction slides into the Allegro con brio with insidious ease, and his heartfelt, pellucid Larghetto virtually plays itself. No tempo compromises in the Scherzo and Finale are neccesary under this pianist's pliable, secure hands. If Naxos continues this segment of its Liszt cycle with Scherbakov, it will have a worthy foil to counter Cyprien Katsaris' more personalized idiosyncratic Beethoven/Liszt symphony survey. The resonant, full-bodied, and clear sonics clinch my enthusiastic recommendation.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com
Brahms: Complete Sonatas for Violin & Piano / Darvarova, Chen
Fratres - Corigliano, Part / Maria Bachmann
Here's a double-barrelled surprise: gripping new music for violin and piano and a performing style that revisits a sweet-scented immediacy more typical of previous generations. Maria Bachmann, a pupil of Ivan Galamian and the late Szymon Goldberg, has a bright, winsome tone and a heartwarming interpretative manner. The works that particularly suit her are Corigliano's 1963 Violin Sonata and the two pieces that were written with her in mind, Albert Glinsky's Toccata-Scherzo and Paul Moravec's Sonata. Of the latter two, the Glinsky is the more memorable—a sort of Sarasate for the 1990s, its lyrical centre-piece flanked by brilliant outer sections. The Moravec is busy and pleasant, but even Bachmann's dextrous advocacy can't quite mask its stylistic anonymity. The Corigliano, on the other hand, harbours the kind of juicy 'tunes' that modern players search for in vain but hardly ever find in contemporary music. The Lento is strikingly memorable, whereas elsewhere Corigliano demands all the tricks of the fiddler's trade—harmonics, pizzicatos, sal pondcello and so on, all couched in an appealing musical context that might best be described as Stravinsky-cum-Samuel Barber.
Turning then to Fratres and comparing Bachmann with Gidon Kremer (ECM), I was interested to note how Bachmann arpeggiates pizzicato chords, a gesture totally in keeping with her warmer, less spidery approach. Ksemer's rougher-edged but rather more ethereal reading still gets my vote, but Bachmann provides an engagingly demonstrative alternative. Messiaen himself said of his "Praise to the Immortality of Jesus" that it "specifically addresses the second aspect of Jesus, namely His human aspect, the Word that has become flesh, resurrected immortal to give Him life." And it's as well to bear that in mind when listening to Bachmann's unusually sensuous performance, an affectionate, this-worldly option to the more withdrawn manner of, say, Luben Yordanoff (with Barenboim on DG).
Bachmann receives sympathetic support from Jon Klibonoff and both are nicely recorded. I thoroughly enjoyed this recital, and I sincerely hope that there's another on the way. But if and when it arrives, I do hope that RCA drop their tiresome idea of fold-up annotation: within a day or so, my copy was already beginning to look like an old shopping list. Booklets are far better. Incidentally, why photograph the immensely personable Maria Bachmann entangled in net curtains?
-- Robert Cowan, Gramophone [12/1993]
Mozart, Mendelssohn & Schumann: Invitation
Beethoven: The Piano Trios & Triple Concerto
Diamond: Symphonies Nos. 2 & 4 / Schwartz, Seattle Symphony
REVIEW:
Gerard Schwarz's David Diamond symphony recordings originally appeared on the Delos label in the early 1990s. They remain impressive (though unfortunately still rare) documents of this composer's uniquely engaging music. In contrast to Symphony No. 1's ebullient opening, Diamond's Second begins with a wistful Adagio funebre, one of the work's longer and more profound movements, another being the beautiful Andante expressivo (with its evocative string and woodwind writing). The harmonic and melodic style occasionally recalls Copland, who comes most immediately to mind in the brass and bass drum play of the scherzo. However, the finale brings that unique blend of folksy Americana and classical rigor that marks much of Diamond's work.
Symphony No. 4's finale uses a similar rhythmic structure and even shares the same key as the Second, but otherwise the two works are quite different. Diamond compacts a lot of material into three brief movements. The musical language is less overtly tuneful than in No. 2, but the composer's expanded harmonic and textural palette ensures ever-captivating sounds, just as his sense of dramatic contrast and well-timed climaxes provide substantial emotional impact throughout. Schwarz conducts both scores with keen sensitivity, while the Seattle Symphony (particularly the brass in No. 4) relishes the challenge of this then-unfamiliar music. The low-level recordings require a volume boost to register fully, and they retain some shallowness, but not enough to detract from full enjoyment of the performances.
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com
Liszt: Complete Piano Music Vol 21 / K. Scherbakov
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
Brun: Complete Orchestral Works / Adriano, Moscow Symphony, Bratislava Symphony
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REVIEW:
This wonderful set is self-recommending and a real labour of love, reflecting Adriano’s commitment to perform, record and bring to a wider listening public the music of his compatriot and Switzerland’s leading symphonist Fritz Brun, providing on disc the majority of his music, including all the orchestral works.
– MusicWeb International
TRIO IN MOTION
Schubert: Piano Trio in B-flat & Trout Quintet / Busch Trio
The Busch Trio continues its Schubertian explorations in two works brimming with melodic invention and nostalgia: the Trio in B flat and the famous ‘Trout’ Quintet in A major. But to those who see Schubert as the embodiment of the gemütlich (cosy) face of Vienna, his output, and especially his chamber music, responds with a spirituality, an intensity, and sometimes even a fury that are far removed from the atmosphere of the ‘Schubertiade’.
Despite the ‘effortless musicianship’ (The Times) and great emotional sensitivity ascribed to the Busch Trio by the press and their loyal fans, these three musicians are guided by the head as much as the heart when playing music, being very much aware of what they are doing. ‘The more you know, the more freedom you feel’ is one of the key maxims of the ensemble.
REVIEW:
The Busch Trio rivals classics recordings by, among others, Rudolf Serkin and the Marlboro Festival ensemble's, for musicianship and might be the most varied and imaginative of all. In addition, the recorded sound is the best of the lot, both for balancing the five instruments and for beauty. The tempos in all three performances are close, so that is a non-issue. There’s such a palpable delight communicated by the playing that I find this new account irresistible. The variations on “Die Forelle” that give the quintet its nickname are done with the lyrical phrasing of an exquisite Lieder singer. This testifies to the virtue mentioned above, that we hear a unified musical mind in the interpretation. In other hands the “Trout” Quintet can veer into sameness by the end, which the Busch Trio counters with a finale that sparkles exuberantly.
I have no hesitation in ranking both performances at or very near the top of a crowded catalog. The old guard fades, and it is heartening that the new generation can express Schubert as beautifully as anyone from the past.
-- Fanfare
Enthusiasm, affection and style...all those qualities are here again in abundance [on the Busch Trio's second Schubert album], the B flat Trio radiant where the E flat is motivically combative, the Trout Quintet perhaps the sine qua non of works composed for companionable music-making.
The striding opening of the Trio is suitably outgoing here, vividly transmitting its melodic generosity, but this ensemble’s extroversion does not ignore the clouds that cover its essentially sunny outlook on occasion. The mood is appropriately tender in the Andante, quizzical in the Scherzo and urbane in the finale. The Busch Trio’s sympathy with this repertoire feels absolute, their communicative ardour evident throughout the performance.
The two trios are works on the largest scale, so don’t often come with much more than brief couplings to add a few minutes to the running time. So it’s a blessing indeed to have the B flat Trio coupled with a whole Trout Quintet, and not one that’s rushed through, either. The Trout is one of those works that seems indestructible: it’s virtually impossible for even the most half-hearted performance not to convey bags of charm and charisma. When it’s played with the affection that the Busch lavish upon it, it’s irresistible. The recording smooths the edges off the piano sound but enables the contribution of each player to be heard ideally. Omri Epstein’s piano bubbles and ripples infectiously but the whole is anchored by the buoyant bass of Naomi Shaham. A true delight from start to finish.
-- Gramophone
Ginastera: String Quartet No 1, 2 & 3 / Enso Quartet
GINASTERA String Quartets: No. 1; No. 2; No. 3 1 • Ens? Qrt; Lucy Shelton (sop) 1 • NAXOS 8.570780 (73:31 Text and Translation)
More than most, Ginastera’s compositional output may be divided into three stylistic periods. His early works, using an impressionist language, were nationalistic in influence and drew heavily on Argentine dance rhythms. During his middle period, he expanded the scope of his tonality while remaining attached to his Hispanic roots, and in his late works he turned to contemporary avant-garde idioms. In my view, his best work comes from the middle period: the brilliant Harp Concerto and the succinct Variaciones concertantes. He was more individual than in his early impressionistic mode, and paradoxically more individual than he was to become after he adopted the standard stylistic traits of the 1960s and 1970s. His first two string quartets date from the beginning and end of that middle period.
Ginastera’s quartets demand a high level of virtuosity from the performers. Extreme dynamics, high harmonics, and syncopated rhythms requiring tight ensemble appear throughout. The First Quartet of 1948 is notable for its light-footed Scherzo ( vivacissimo ), its atmospheric slow movement ( calmo e poetico ), and a vigorous, stamping finale ( allegramente rustico ).
A similar wispy Scherzo movement occurs in the Second Quartet (1958, rev. 1968), but there it is deconstructed. In five movements, the Second Quartet contains an “extra” movement built from a series of cadenzas from each of the instruments ( libero e rapsodico ), before plunging into its own modernized version of a dance-inflected finale. The first movement presents a 12-tone theme, the first use of that technique in the composer’s work.
By the time of the Third Quartet, Ginastera had left his previous formal procedures behind. He introduced a soprano soloist, as did Schoenberg in his Second Quartet—a precedent of which the status-conscious Argentine composer was well aware. He set texts by Jiménez, Lorca, and Alberti, illuminating the soprano’s vocalizing and occasional spoken declamation with a series of ingenious string effects. The imagery and atmosphere of the poems dictate the musical form, so the task for the musicians is to reproduce specific moods, on top of the considerable technical challenges.
Previous recordings of all three quartets exist, though only one currently available brings them together on a single CD: the Cuarteto Latinoamericano (on Élan). I have not heard that disc, but I have the Latinoamericano recording of Quartet No. 1 in a mixed program from the same label (which may or may not be the same performance): they bring genuine excitement and tight ensemble to the piece, but are equally matched by the Ens? on this new release.
The original performers of the Third Quartet, Benita Valente and the Juilliard Quartet, recorded the work for the Bridge label in an interesting mixed recital that is well worth hearing for the couplings by Harbison and Wernick. Valente sings with great control and understanding, but the recording was made some 27 years after the event, by which time her voice had lost much of its bloom.
On the new disc, Lucy Shelton is a revelation: she brings pure tone and a wide range of vocal color to her interpretation. (Valente is more convincing in the relatively few spoken passages.) The U.S.-based Ens? Quartet plays with warmth and unanimity, meeting all the technical and interpretive hurdles with apparent ease. Naxos’s sound is excellent, the timing is generous, and a translation of the poetry is provided, making this CD the version of choice, regardless of price.
FANFARE: Phillip Scott
Lorraine - Bach: Mein Herze Schwimmt Im Blut / Hunt Lieberson, Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra

Bach’s cantata BWV 199 begins “My heart swims in blood/The results of my sins/Transform me into a monster,” and ends, “And through my grief and pain/No longer am I excluded/From His bliss or His heart.” Serious, pious, introspective stuff, indeed, and this recording, in superb sound, features the lamented Lorraine Hunt Lieberson performing the cantata live in Los Angeles in 2003.
The disc’s brief playing time (the cantata takes just 28 minutes) should not put you off: there is a lifetime of great and deep music-making here. Lieberson’s flawless tone, utterly even and capable of a dozen shades of dynamics and colors, along with her almost uncanny ability to convey feelings as rich as those expressed here, turns this half hour into an almost intimate experience, as if one were hearing the confession of a dear friend or a dear soul. Her simplicity is epic, to coin an oxymoron; she can drive one to tears. I’m unaccustomed to gushing like this, and my connection with devout anything, let alone Christianity, is less than tenuous, but I was stunned by the beauty of the singing, playing, and sincerity and so will you be. It’s like listening to the truth.
A quick, sharp performance of Bach’s Fourth Brandenburg serves as a curtain-raiser. The solo violin (Margaret Batjer is the leader and soloist) takes a wild ride in the last movement, and throughout, the performance is brilliant and exhilarating.
-- Robert Levine, ClassicToday.com
WILLST DU DEIN HERZ MIR SCHENK
Beethoven, Wranitzky: Oboe Trios / Schachman, Spahr, Et Al
Among the musicians that Beethoven encountered in the capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire were the oboists Johann Wendt, Georg Triebensee, and his son, Josef. Tradition indicates that Beethoven’s Trio, op. 87, was inspired by similar works penned by Wendt and indeed, he wrote several such works for himself and Triebensee père et fil. The existence of more than a fistful of such seemingly oddly scored works is an indicator of the popularity of the genre at the time. Both the trio and the Mozart variations appear to date from the late 1790s and there is speculation that the variations were the original finale to the lengthier and more complex trio. Beethoven virtually abandoned wind chamber music after the turn of the 18th century, but works such as the trios recorded here and other music from his early years were instrumental—pardon the pun—in developing his treatment of the orchestral winds.
The Beethoven works owe their contemporary success to the composer’s ability to write for a group of winds that is somewhat analogous to a string configuration of two violins and viola or a vocal ensemble of two sopranos and an alto. There is no true bass instrument; the underpinning is assigned to the English horn, as is some of the melodic work. The Trio, op. 87, is full of the confidence of youth, almost bordering on braggadocio, but Beethoven’s sure footed treatment of the material and the way in which he dispenses it to the performers herald some of the great things to come. The set of variations on “La ci darem la mano” is among my favorites in the wind chamber music repertoire. It offers daunting challenges, both technical and expressive, and much contrast in style throughout its nine-minute run. All of the performers are put through their paces, especially the English horn in the second variation and the first oboist in the fifth. Melodic lines are tossed back and forth with the ease one would expect from Beethoven, and a delightful scherzo-like section dovetails into a quasi Andante variation on the theme, which concludes the work.
Beethoven’s circle of friends in Vienna included the brothers Paul and Anton Wranitzky. The youngest of the pair, Anton, was a much-respected composer, conductor, and concert manager. He studied with the best (Mozart, Albrechtsberger, and Haydn) and was so highly thought of that he went on to become leader of the Imperial Court Orchestra and of the orchestra at the Theater an der Wien. Undoubtedly Wranitzky worked with Wendt and Josef Triebensee at some point and either favored them with this trio gratis, or wrote it on commission from them. The trio could almost be termed a symphony for two oboes and English horn, for all of the elements are there, a fully-developed sonata-form first movement, a sunny and uncomplicated andante with a pleasant set of variations, the traditional minuet, and a buffo rondo finale in which all three protagonists chatter away like so many village gossips. These are relaxed, genial, and well-articulated readings that must be as much fun to play as they are to listen to. Textures are pellucid, clearly defined, and blended with masterly expertise. The sense of give-and-take between these three people is exceptional and the replications of old instruments project a unique and pungent tone that lacks the nasal quality found in their modern counterparts. Sadly, there is one problem. These three outstanding American wind-players have no collective name. I like Prevailing Winds. What about you?
Michael Carter, FANFARE
Litolff: Piano Music, Vol. 1 / Jiang
The British-born Henry Litolff (1818–91) maintains a toehold on the repertoire thanks to the enduring popularity of the Scherzo of his Concerto symphonique No. 4 for piano and orchestra. Litolff’s substantial output of music for solo piano – mostly virtuoso salon miniatures – has entirely slipped from sight, even though in his prime as composer and pianist he was often compared with Liszt, a personal friend. This first album devoted to Litolff’s piano music reveals a fondness for atmospheric character pieces and vigorous dances, not least the polka, mazurka and waltz.
VAUGHAN WILLIAM: SYMPHONIES NOS. 4 & 5
Tcherepnin: Piano Music (1913-61) / Shilyaev
This unusual album begins with archival recordings, in excellent sound, of the Russian-born composer-pianist Tcherepnin (1899–1977) playing some of his most memorable piano music. The 2nd part of the CD, performed by the Russian pianist Shilyaev, presents a selection of attractive, rarely heard works from various periods in Tcherepnin's career.
REVIEW:
As the only composer to have done significant work in all 5 UN Security Council nations—Russia, Britain, France, China, and the USA—it is unsurprising that Willi Reich, in his biography called Alexander Tcherepnin a ‘musical citizen of the world’.
Piano Sonata No.1 began life as No. 14 but Tcherepnin destroyed vast amounts of his juvenilia; not that you’d ever guess that this sonata was written by someone so young it is so incredibly self assured, an assurance which will have come from all the works he had previously composed. It is a fabulously rich piece of writing with a theme that emerges in the first movement that would have been worthy of Liszt. This sonata and the Op. 85 piece are played by the composer himself showing his complete mastery of the instrument both technically and compositionally.
Incredible as it may seem for such a prolific composer his second sonata had to wait 42 years to be written. The first movement is fascinating, alternating between lento and animato while the second, marked andantino is wistfully beautiful. The final animato has the sonata finally disappear mid-phrase.
His Quatre Préludes Nostalgiques from 1922 come next, the first of which creates an air of mystery. The second is a quiet interlude before the third’s tempestuoso lives up to its name. The last one is a mixture of sadness and grandeur.
The final work on the disc played by the composer himself is a little 1½ minute cracker with almost all the notes coming from the piano’s lowest register. At this point pianist Mikhail Shilyaev takes over showing how gently he can caress the keys which is what is required with the first of his contributions Moment Musical from 1913, when the composer was only 14, and is its first recording.
From 1918 to 1919 we have another first recording, Tcherepnin’s Petite Suite. This is full of delights. Rondo à la Russe from 1946 is “Russian” as it is supposed to be but interestingly Tcherepnin otherwise rarely shows his origins in his music though sometimes he does remind one of Rachmaninoff or Prokofiev. Entretiens composed over a ten year period from 1920 to 1930 is in ten parts, all of them showing the composer’s inventive flair. One of the recurring ideas in his music is the evocation of bells as with the final piece from the set.
Tcherepnin enjoyed fun as much as being serious and this is amply demonstrated in the little Polka from 1944. Scherzo from 1917 has elements of both Prokofiev, Tcherepnin’s idol at the time, and Rachmaninoff, though much harsher in sound to his lushness, though it begins that way. The set of 10 little pieces that together form Expressions, dating from 1951, are the only ones played by Shilyaev that are not first recordings and each bears a title rather than a tempo marking. At the Fair brings some Russian elements into play and I was reminded of Stravinsky. Barcarolle is a beautiful and delightful sounding piece and one of the longest on the disc at 3 minutes long; Tcherepnin had an amazing ability to exploit ideas within a tiny time-frame. La Quatrième from 1948-9, the last offering, is another first recording. It’s full of grandeur and the title is a reference to the Fourth Republic in France which heralded its post-war era following liberation. It received its première only in 1959 since it was part of a project by the publisher to have several compositions from immigrant composers of the École de Paris group in a collection that never materialized.
The overall impression one is left with after hearing this disc and others of Tcherepnin’s music is the breadth of his inventiveness; there is never a dull moment and discovering his music has been one of the musical highlights for me this year. As one would expect the tracks recorded this year sound fresher and crisper than those recorded by the composer in March 1965, though to have his own interpretations of those works is so valuable. Tcherepnin showed what a considerable pianist he was while Shilyaev amply shows his interpretive skills with that full range of moods and touches. This is vital for music that can range from a mere whisper to almost cataclysmic thunder.
The booklet notes by Benjamin Folkman are extremely well written, highly informative and contribute towards making the whole experience both enjoyable and memorable. If you have discovered the wonderful world of Tcherepnin’s piano music then this disc is a must for you and, if not, it is a perfect place to start to get to know this fascinating composer.
-- MusicWeb International
Schubert: Piano Works, Vol. 2 - Fantasies
Gold
Bruno Walter Conducts Bruckner's 4th And 9th Symphonies
BRUCKNER Symphonies: No. 4; 1 No. 9. 2 MOZART Symphony No. 35 in D “Haffner” 3 • Bruno Walter, cond; 1 NBC SO. 2 Philadelphia O. 3 New York PO • MUSIC & ARTS CD-1262 (2 CDs: 127:30) Live: 1 02/10/1940, 2 02/28/1948, 3 02/06/1944
Having recently obtained an extensive collection of acetates from the estate of a private music collector, the Music & Arts label is issuing some fruits of that here in the form of live performances by Bruno Walter. Two items—the Bruckner Ninth and the Mozart “Haffner” symphonies—are previously unissued items; the Bruckner Fourth was released on Pearl GEMM CD 9131 but here enjoys slightly but tangibly superior sound. While still constricted, it is tolerably listenable by the standards one would expect for a recording of that vintage. Here the weak bass register is noticeably stronger and clearer, background hiss is slightly reduced, occasional fluctuations in pitch have been evened out, and assorted clicks and pops and similar extraneous noises excised or reduced. However, the Pearl release is still not superfluous, as this issue does not include the filler pieces by Weber and Smetana (the overtures to Oberon and The Bartered Bride ).
While none of these items is, strictly speaking, a novelty in the Walter discography, the performance of the Bruckner Fourth preserved here is of particular interest to both Brucknerians and Walterians. The Walter discography contains only two versions of this score: the live one presented here, and the conductor’s studio recording with the Columbia Symphony Orchestra, recorded from February 13-25, 1960. (The discography of the CSO is complex, because Columbia used that moniker for several different studio orchestras in various locales. In Walter’s case, the monaural recordings are with a reduced contingent of the New York Philharmonic and other local musicians, while his stereo recordings are with a core ensemble drawn from the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the Los Angeles Festival Orchestra, supplemented by members of various Hollywood film studio orchestras.) The Sony SMK 64 481 issue of the studio performance is presently available—as are most of the titles in Sony’s erstwhile “Bruno Walter Edition”—as an ArkivMusic reprint.
What is most remarkable is how radically Walter’s conception of this piece changed over 20 years, with the respective timings providing an initial indication: 16:32, 14:32, 8:27, and 18:32 versus 18:40, 15:37, 10:59, and 20:46. Walter does use different editions of the score—the 1888-89 Löwe/Guttmann version in 1940, and the 1936 Haas edition of the 1878/80 version in 1960. (For the 1960 recording I am taking the word of John F. Berky on his abruckner.com discography site over that of Sony, which states in its CD booklet that Walter used the 1953 Nowak edition.) However, this in no way accounts for the differences, as most of them are matters of instrumental detail (e.g., the radically reduced orchestration in the Scherzo at 8:13-8:16 in the 1940 performance as compared to the same passage at 8:20-8:23 in the 1960 recording) rather than cuts in the score. Instead, Walter’s earlier interpretation is far more volatile, not only in terms of significantly faster tempi but also in more generous use of accelerandi and other tempo modifications. For example, in 1940 there is an adrenaline rush on an ascending scale from 1:41 to 1:52 not employed in 1960, while in the fourth movement the 1940 performance takes only a mild ritardando at 8:13 to 8:16 but in 1960 a very emphatic one in the same passage at 8:20 to 8:23. In 1940 the Scherzo movement is taken at an exceptionally brisk pace, whereas in 1960 it is stately, with the trio section being positively languorous. Similarly, whereas in 1960 Walter squares off phrases in the more emphatic manner common to most Bruckner performances nowadays, demarcating discrete units as aural equivalents of the giant stone blocks used to construct Gothic cathedrals, in 1940 the phrasing is noticeably more fluid and linear, particularly in woodwind runs that ripple like rapidly flowing rivulets (cf. at 15:24 in the first movement). How much these changes owe to the oft-noted differences in Walter’s recordings made before and after his March 1957 heart attack, and how much they may owe to the conductor possibly seeking to elaborate greater distinctions between his approaches to Bruckner and Mahler, can only be a subject of speculation. In any case, in these respects the 1940 performance is akin to the relatively few complete Bruckner symphony performances that survive from before WW II, and suggest an earlier school of performance which is now well-nigh extinct. Both for that reason, and for the intriguing snapshot of how Walter’s interpretation of this piece shifted over the years, this recording is of particular interest for collectors of historical performances.
The companion performance in this set of the Bruckner Ninth lacks the same degree of intrinsic value, in that there are eight surviving recorded performances from Walter’s baton, variously given with the New York Philharmonic, Philadelphia Orchestra, Vienna Philharmonic, Los Angeles Philharmonic, and Columbia Symphony. The table below provides details for comparison. In this and the succeeding tables, if a particular performance has appeared more than once on CD, I have cited the best version currently in print; studio recordings are marked with an asterisk. For the timings in this instance, I have used those provided by Mark W. Kluge in his notes to the 2003 Music and Arts release of the 1946 performance, except for the 1948 and 1950 performances not listed by him.
FANFARE: Date Orchestra CD Issue (if any) Timings
03/17/46 NYP Music & Arts CD-1110 21:42 9:37 19: 42
02/28/48 PO Music & Arts CD-1262 21:19 9:43 19:28
02/02/50 NYP none (private collection) 20:12 9:55 19: 15
08/20/53 VPO Andromeda ANDRCD 9092 21:10 10:09 19:17
12/27/53 NYP Tahra TAH 571 20:32 10:09 19:46
02/10/57 NYP Music & Arts CD-1212 19:59 10:01 19: 14
11/13/59 LAP none (private collection) 22:30 10:53 21: 58
11/16-19/59 CSO Sony SMK 64 483* 23:51 11:29 23:16
As Kluge rightly states in the booklet notes to the 2003 disc of Walter’s 1946 performance, “Walter’s live performances of the Ninth Symphony preserved on tape show a certain consistency, varying in individual nuance rather than interpretive outline”. In the booklet notes to the present release he further observes, “All of his live performances of the score display certain common interpretive details,” of which he provides several examples, such as “the very precise (almost clipped) brass interjections in the opening bars.” Unremarked upon by Kluge, except for a passing observation that the studio account “lacks the fire of Walter’s live performances,” is the extraordinary speed and drive of Walter’s conception of the work, which in the pre-1959 performances clocks in at between 49:22 (the fastest recorded performance by any conductor) and 51:01. Among the almost 400 complete performances listed in the abruckner.com discography, only Volkmar Andreae, Jascha Horenstein, Georg-Ludwig Jochum, Roger Norrington, plus (amazingly) John Barbirolli and Hans Knappertsbusch, have timings within three minutes of Walter. This work alone gives the lie to the stereotype of Walter as a cushy, gentle interpreter given solely to Gemütlichkeit rather than Sturm und Drang.
Despite their overall similarity, the pre-1959 performances do not suffer from lack of variety or interest. With the exception of the live 1959 performance, which stems from a relatively poor source, the sound quality improves incrementally with the more recent performance date, though the sonic differences between the three performances from 1953-57 are rather minimal. For me, the key factor in evaluating the first six performances is Walter’s approach to and follow-through from the fortissimo recapitulation of the first theme of the opening movement, beginning at about halfway through the movement. For the approach to the recapitulation, the recap itself, and the section immediately thereafter, Walter demarcates each of the three sections with a marked caesura and tempo adjustment. There are noticeable differences to how he does this in several of the performances; although these may simply be differences of the moment, they suggest instead that he was not entirely satisfied with his handling of these sections and was constantly searching for new and better solutions. I find the 1946 performance to be the least satisfactory; as the timing of the first movement indicates, Walter there inserts greater pauses and slows down each section more than usual, causing the whole to lose coherency and momentum and to bog down. Walter also takes two major ritardandi early on, at 1:55 and 3:00, that he drops after the 1948 Philadelphia performance, which has a similarly hobbling effect. (For a more positive response, see Robert McColley’s review back in 26:6.) By contrast, the unreleased 1950 performance is the most successful, having a fierce energy and the least pronounced breaks and tempo deceleration.
The three performances from 1948 and 1953 occupy a middle ground between these extremes; here the differences are to be found more in the distinctive timbres of the respective orchestras. In his booklet notes to the 1946 performance, Kluge states that “the warmer style of the Vienna Philharmonic added a sense of plasticity and nuance not as evident in the later [1953] New York performance,” given the latter orchestra’s “virile, even aggressive playing style.” I would agree, but I find a certain slackness present in the Vienna performance as well, and its recorded sound is slightly more recessed. Comparing the New York and Philadelphia ensembles in the present booklet notes, Kluge correctly finds “a contrast in style between the two ensembles. The Philharmonic sonority is bold and brassy, making the most of Bruckner’s dramatic climaxes. However the Philadelphia ensemble, even in its first encounter with the score, adds a patina of refinement”—due no doubt to the orchestra’s fabled string section. Finally, in 1957 Walter attempts a hybrid solution that combines pronounced Luftpausen with his briskest tempi, a solution I prefer to all but the 1950 performance (see also the positive review by Jeffrey J. Lipscomb in 32: 3).
The two 1959 performances are, as their timings indicate, of a very different character—ultimately no less dramatic, but more monumental and in line with the mainstream of Bruckner interpretations, while also evincing the more rounded edges of Walter’s trademark lyricism in other repertoire. Given both the relatively poor sound of the preceding live performance, and some ill-fitting junctures in it that suggest Walter’s new interpretation not to be fully settled, the studio recording is easily preferable between those two. Along with the 1957 performance—and that of 1950, for those few who can find it from private sources—the studio recording is also one of the top choices for Brucknerians who want Walter represented in their collections.
Despite Walter’s intense devotion to Bruckner following his recovery from a near-fatal bout of double pneumonia in 1927 (Walter credited his convalescence with giving him the spiritual repose needed to comprehend Bruckner rightly), many commentators have regarded his studio Bruckner recordings, especially that of the Ninth, as relative weak points in his discography. Devoted Walterian that I am, I nevertheless agree with that assessment; Walter never mastered the timing of the numerous pauses in Bruckner’s symphonic movements, and choosing the manifold subtle shifts in tempi needed to make the sprawling movements cohere, to the same degree as did Wilhelm Furtwängler and Eugen Jochum, my own Bruckner reference standards. Part of the fault here, however, lies not with Walter but with Columbia’s miscalculated decision to use an orchestra of only 65 players for the recording sessions—possibly due to a degree of parsimony, but also because the extremely lively acoustics of Legion Hall would have caused a full-sized orchestra to be swamped with reverberation. The fact that Walter almost fully succeeds in disguising the paucity of string players and producing a genuine Brucknerian orchestral sound testifies to near-miraculous conductorial skills.
The 1948 performance of the Bruckner Ninth in Philadelphia was paired in concert with a performance of Mozart’s “Haffner” Symphony. Since only the Bruckner was broadcast for a one-hour time slot, the performance of the Mozart was not preserved. In its stead, Music and Arts has thoughtfully provided a previously unreleased 1944 New York Philharmonic broadcast of the work. Mozart occupies a large and special place in Walter’s discography. In terms of frequency of surviving performances, the “Haffner” has seven recordings—five live and two studio, with the NBC Symphony, Boston Symphony, New York Philharmonic, and Columbia Symphony. It thus ranks behind No. 40 (eleven performances, eight live and three studio) and No. 39 (eight recordings, five live and three studio), and is tied with the “Prague” (seven recordings, four live and three studio). The following table again provides details for comparison; note that Tahra misdates the 1953 performance to January 5 instead of January 4.
Date Orchestra CD Issue (if any) Timings
02/17/40 NBC SO Andromeda ANDRCD 9012 5:02 4:31 3:10 3: 33
02/06/44 NYP Music and Arts CD-1262 5:15 4:44 3:16 3: 33
01/21/47 BSO Wing WCD 58 (Japan) 5:11 4:29 3:17 3:37
02/05/50 NYP none (private collection) 5:33 5:05 3: 25 3:43
01/04/53 NYP Tahra TAH 571-572 5:29 4:54 3:33 3:55
01/16/53 NYP Sony SMK 64 473* 5:27 4:44 3:21 3:46
01/13-21/59 CSO Sony SM3K 46 511* 5:58 5:13 3:49 4:04
Here one notes that until the final, post-heart attack, stereo recording, Walter’s interpretive approach remains remarkably consistent, broadening very slightly in tempi with the passing years. As before, sound quality generally improves in successive performances, save for the decidedly poor-sounding Boston Symphony issue and the somewhat tubby sound of the unedited source for the 1950 performance. Yet here, too, there are subtle differences, with the 1944 performance under review being the most distinctive. At 1:15 in the first movement, Walter slows the tempo for the lyrical counter-subject to a far greater degree than elsewhere, and likewise beginning at 4:40 accelerates the tempo to a far greater degree to provide a whirlwind close. Not unexpectedly from an ensemble drilled under Toscanini, the NBC performance features particularly strong, crisp accents on chords and fluid runs on strings and winds. The live 1953 performance has a higher voltage than the studio recording that followed it, though it suffers from a rather glassy, shrill treble register (for a different opinion on the last point, see Mortimer H. Frank’s review in 14:4). The stereo recording has of course by far the best sound, but its slower tempi drain it of the vitality characteristic of Walter’s earlier performances. The 1944 performance is in surprisingly good sound for its time, and I would rate it alongside the two 1953 versions as the best of his performances of this work.
The remasterings of the original sources have obviously been done with the meticulous care that marks all Music and Arts issues. Mark Kluge’s booklet notes are exemplary; they include a brief discussion of recent Bruckner scholarship that defends the Löwe/Guttmann edition of the Fourth as one genuinely authorized by Bruckner rather than riding roughshod over his true intentions, and also discuss Walter’s various retouchings of the timpani and brass parts in different performances of the Ninth. (Kluge does not discuss the 1950 performance, but the excision of the trombone parts from certain passages of the Scherzo that occurs in the 1957 and 1959 performances also occurs there, though curiously not in the intervening ones from 1953.) The booklet and tray card have a typographical error that gives the total time of the second disc as 50:30, which is the timing of the Bruckner Ninth alone; the correct total time is 68:20. For Walterians, this release is self-recommending; for Brucknerians and collectors of historic performances, it will be of interest primarily for the Bruckner Fourth, and secondarily for the “Haffner” and the Ninth. To each of these interested parties, this release is warmly recommended.
James A. Altena