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Johann Joseph Abert: Columbus Op. 31; Konzert Fur Kontrabaß; Variationen Fur Kontrabaß
Bayer · Jan 2012CD$20.99 -
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SaleBeethoven, R. Schumann, Saint-Saëns: Symphonies for Piano Duo vol. 2 / Uys & Schoeman
SOMM Recordings · Apr 2022CD$20.99$15.99 -
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Tchaikovsky: Violin Concerto; Bartok: Violin Concerto No 2 / Stern
Audite Musikproduktion · Sep 2013CD$14.99 -
Fairouz: In The Shadow Of No Towers; Glass: Concerto Fantasy / Popiel, University Of Kansas
Naxos · Nov 2013CD$19.99 -
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Franck: Piano Rarities - Original Works & Transcriptions / Armengaud
Grand Piano · Dec 2022CD$19.99 -
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McTee: Symphony No 1, Circuits... / Slatkin, Detroit
My first contact with Cindy McTee’s music was a recording of the wind ensemble transcription of Circuits by the Cincinnati College-Conservatory Wind Symphony. In fact, all previous experience with McTee’s music has been in the wind ensemble medium, including three movements of the Symphony No. 1 under the title Ballet for Band . There is a wind ensemble recording of Double Play , as well, which I had not heard until now. It says a lot about the difficulties of getting new music recorded by orchestras that McTee’s larger ensemble music, almost always written for the orchestra first, has been much more available to collectors in wind band arrangements. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was, from 1984 to 2011, on the music faculty of the University of North Texas at Denton, the current academic home of band music-recording phenomenon Eugene Migliaro Corporon. He must have found her technically challenging, elegantly crafted, imaginative, often playful, and always vibrant music irresistible. (She claims, incidentally, to have acquired the compositional playfulness from Krzysztof Penderecki during the year she studied with him at the Cracow Academy of Music. That is as surprising a piece of information as I can remember picking up from an artist biography.)
In any case, it seems fitting, given the large amount of play her orchestral music has gotten, that the first CD of these works is being conducted by Leonard Slatkin. This is not because he has been her husband since 2011, but because Slatkin, a noted proponent of quality American music with audience appeal, has been an advocate of McTee’s music for so much longer. In fact, he was instrumental in arranging the commission of her Symphony No. 1 for the National Symphony Orchestra in 2002. That work is the central composition in this Detroit Symphony program, and is in several ways emblematic of the McTee style. It is, to begin with, music motivated by dance and movement, driven by an emphasis on rhythms, often motoric, with unexpected disruptions and syncopations to keep it impetuous. Not surprisingly, it keeps the percussion section very busy. It is music of high contrasts: in those rhythms, and in sonorities, and in its use of tonality. And lastly, each of the four named movements—“On with the Dance,” “Till a Silence Fell,” “Light Fantastic,” and “Where Time Plays the Fiddle”—is inspired by characteristics of one or more well-known works by other composers: the opening motif of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, a melody from Penderecki’s Polish Requiem , Barber’s Adagio for Strings, Ravel’s La valse , and Stravinsky’s Le sacre du printemps . Those who know the Ballet for Band will note the elegiac second movement not included in the band version: an Adagio derived from an earlier Agnus Dei for organ, with which she eulogizes the victims of 9/11. All this, with some occasional jazz references to boot, McTee transforms into a unified, highly original, exceptionally moving 30-minute work.
Double Play (2009–10), the most recent work on this release, is another Slatkin commission, this for the Detroit Symphony. Indeed, this recording is from the premiere performances. “Unquestioned Answer,” the first movement, is a witty rethinking of Ives’s Unanswered Question , using the same device of an initially serene backdrop interrupted by a contrasting repeated theme. Instead of trumpet, the theme is played by various groups of instruments, and unlike Ives’s unvaried theme, McTee’s—derived from Ives’s—is transformed at each repetition. The last variation, for wood blocks and cowbells, leads into the second movement, “Tempus Fugit,” which truly seems to flee at light speed, after the moments of indecision while the ticking clocks get synchronized. Reminding one commentator of big band jazz of the Hermann/Kenton variety and inspired by a theme by Slatkin, it is hugely entertaining.
So is her most popular work, Circuits , written in 1990: a high-energy romp in which the title describes a stimulus not so much electronic as fractal. It is McTee’s closest brush with minimalism on this CD, but there is nothing hypnotic or reflective here. That comes in Einstein’s Dream (2004), which incorporates electronics and brooding introspection in a remarkable collage of wildly contrasting styles. If this can be taken as a conjecture of what it might have been like to be inside the great physicist’s head, then one finds order in the Baroque ensemble, deep intellectual questing in the Romantic violin—based again on Ives’s trumpet theme in The Unanswered Question —and the most marvelous, and sometimes fantastic, images floating among them. The intent is quite serious, of course, as each of the seven continuous sections reflects on some aspect of Einstein’s thoughts and works, art, and science. It is the work to which I returned most often, reveling in its depth and uncommon beauties.
So, this CD is a thoroughly enjoyable experience. The work of orchestra and conductor in these performances is exemplary, something that I have not always felt when hearing recent recordings from this source. The engineering is superb. I can think of no better way to come to know the work of this fascinating composer. Highly recommended.
FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames
Galuppi: Keyboard Sonatas Vol. 2 / Matteo Napoli
GALUPPI Keyboard Sonatas, Vol. 2: in B?, Illy 14 ; in d, Illy 2 ; in c, Illy 34 ; in C, Illy 27 ; in E?, Illy 24 ; in d, Illy 56 ; in D, Illy 1 • Matteo Napoli (pn) • NAXOS 8.572490 (68: 12)
Most people know Baldassare Galuppi (1706–85) as mainly a composer of opera, probably because he was certainly the major figure in Venice during the development of the opera buffa in the 1730s. He was, however, also well regarded as a keyboard player, and his music, mainly sonatas, was widely distributed throughout Europe even during his lifetime. Musicologist Hedda Illy catalogued more than 100 of them, but one and a half times as many other works for keyboard, including divertimentos, toccatas, and smaller pieces, have since turned up, making him one of the principal composers alongside predecessor Domenico Scarlatti.
This disc represents the second volume of what will eventually be a complete cycle of Galuppi’s sonatas, performed here on a modern Steinway piano, if the picture of Matteo Napoli on the back of the cover is accurate. Originally, the designations were probably far more generic, as in perform them on whatever keyboard instrument you might happen to have at hand. These are intimate chamber works, meant to provide entertainment in small private settings, and the publication of two sets of these in London between 1756 and 1759 was clearly aimed at the discerning amateur. That is not to say that the sonatas were simple or technically manageable by the intended performers. Rather, they explore a wide variety of styles and abilities that Galuppi no doubt absorbed during his long lifetime. In this particular set, arranged according to no real sequence or pattern, this variety is quite evident. Two of the works are in two movements, a sort of halfway house between the traditional Classical-period sonata and Scarlatti’s single-movement pieces. The first of these on the disc, in D Minor, opens with a lively set of motivic sequences that are spun out in Baroque fashion, making it clearly an early work. The second, also in D Minor, is more of a da chiesa form, with a lament first movement that has distinctive Neapolitan operatic roots in its emotional unfolding. The first seems made for harpsichord with its figuration, while the second might require a more nuanced instrument, such as a clavichord. The remainder are the usual three-movement format, all of which begin with a slow movement, followed by a lively Allegro, and concluding with some sort of stylized dance. In the sonatas in B? and C, Galuppi opens with a long lyrical theme above a flowing Alberti bass, simple and eloquent. In the turgid C-Minor sonata, the first movement is a cascade of scales and harmonic twists worthy of C. P. E. Bach. In the E?-sonata, he opens with a nocturne of Mozartean purity, lyrical and sinuous. The fast movements are usually highly virtuosic in their technical displays. In the D-Major sonata, the ever-changing figuration and chromatic lines are like a perpetual motion machine, shifting by phases (or phrases) in a Baroque manner using Classical era harmonies. The final movement of this sonata contains a theme and variations based upon a nice tune that Mozart probably would have killed to have. In the C-Minor sonata, this final movement is turned into a demented minuet, with the melody scurrying through scalar passages in between the block triple meter dance. All in all, these works show that Galuppi was cognizant of the evolution of style during his life and used it to best advantage.
Pianist Matteo Napoli is to be congratulated for persevering in this series, the first volume of which (Naxos 8.52263) I found quite stimulating. His playing is always finely nuanced, with expressive details emerging even during the most mechanical sequential passages. The works, most of which do not have much in the way of dynamic markings apparently, seem to fit quite well on the modern piano, though of course it would be great to have them also on instruments of that period. The piano, though, eliminates the need to determine just which keyboard instrument fits each sonata, perhaps a daunting task. But no matter; this disc is a must-have for those interested in 18th-century keyboard music, and I for one wait with anticipation for the next volume in the series.
FANFARE: Bertil van Boer
Grieg: Complete Solo Piano Music / Knardahl, Derwinger
A beautifully packaged box of the complete Grieg piano music on BIS and a fantastic deal at 12 CDs for the price of 3.
There is so much here that one can explore these works for years and never truly get to the bottom of them... a collection of gems that sparkle from any angle.
Eva Knardahl's recordings of Grieg's music for solo piano – here completed with recordings by Love Derwinger of the works unpublished during Grieg's lifetime – have been a milestone ever since they were first released on LP at the end of the 1970s. The Norwegian pianist's interpretations of the music of her countryman blew away decades worth of cobwebs and caused many to reconsider an oeuvre of which one part was so well-known as to risk becoming banal and another was all but unknown. At the time of the first release one reviewer likened Knardahl to ‘an Alicia de Larrocha of the North, who makes her instrument ring out like a cathedral’. When the recordings were re-released on CD, another wrote that her performances ‘suggest that there's a lot more to Grieg's several hundred little pieces than pretty lyricism ... She brings a forthrightness and color to the Norwegian master – even a countrified robustness – that few have suspected is there. Knardahl's performance of the famous Piano Concerto is a rendering full of grandeur, poetry and power. She can really stand comparison with any of her rivals.’
FULL REVIEW
Norwegian-born pianist Eva Knardahl, who died in late 2006, had a very long career. Well-known in her native Norway, she made her debut at the age of 12 performing with the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra. Throughout her life, she recorded a variety of works for piano, paying special attention to the works of Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg. This box set contains 12 CDs, covering all of Grieg’s compositions for piano.
Knardahl performs on the first ten discs in the set, and Love Derwinger is the pianist for the recordings on discs 11 and 12. This is a repackaging of individual discs that were released over the years, with the Knardahl recordings made between 1977 and 1980, and the Derwinger recordings dating from 1993. It seems unfair that only Knardahl gets her name on the front of the box; Derwinger is credited only on the back. Knaredahly’s recordings were issued first on LP and then reissued on CD in 1987.
The set contains a comprehensive booklet in English, Swedish, German and French, nearly 180 pages long - about 30 pages of text for each language. Fortunately, unlike many other Bis booklets, this one printed in a font that does not require a magnifying glass to read.
Grieg's piano music is one of the monuments of keyboard music, and probably deserves to be regarded much more highly. While not as intense as Beethoven's piano sonatas, or the works of Chopin or Liszt; while not as lofty as the vast output of Bach or that of Mozart, Grieg's piano music combines not only a unique impressionistic approach to the piano, but also elements of folk music from his native Norway. On top of that, many of the tunes in the short pieces are so engaging that you'll find yourself humming them.
Grieg's piano works are mostly made up of short pieces. His 66 lyric pieces, were composed throughout his career but there are also collections of Norwegian folk songs, peasant dances and other works. With just one piano sonata, and one piano concerto - but what a concerto! - his oeuvre is largely one of miniatures. But the size of these works in no way detracts from their interest and force. One can simply listen to the first of the Lyric Pieces, Arietta, to understand just how subtle Grieg's compositional style is. In a simple-sounding ballad of just over a minute, he manages not only to paint a melancholy picture, but also demonstrates that his harmonies are unique and unforgettable. This is a brief piano piece that is more a song without words than a statement of keyboard music.
The three discs of lyric pieces span his entire career, so listening to them in order offers not just a journey through melody, but also an opportunity to listen to how Grieg's style grew over time. His Op. 4 no. 3, Melody, has an intense, melodramatic sound, as does, for example, Op. 54, no. 1, Shepherd's Boy, which is a dark work. Some pieces have such lightness that one can only smile when listening to them. In a way, however, it is fitting that the final work in this series, Op. 71, no. 7, Forgetting, is a reworking of one of the earliest lyric pieces, Waltz, Op. 12 no. 2. Grieg comes full circle with this last lyric piece, showing the subtle ways in which his music evolved.
While there is pleasure enough in listening to the progression of Grieg's style through the first three discs of lyric pieces, one can start again with disc 4, which begins another examination of Grieg's career in chronological order. While it makes sense to group the lyric pieces on the first three discs - which also corresponds to the original release of these recordings on individual discs - it might have been more logical to reorder all the music so the twelve discs flowed in chronological sequence, rather than having two "sets" within the box.
Beginning with the earliest pieces, his Op. 1, Four Piano Pieces, his Poetic Tone-Pictures (Op. 3) and so on, the set traverses his output. In spite of the different names given to groups of works, Grieg's tone does not vary a great deal. All the pieces cover a range of tones from melancholy to exuberant, from bittersweet to pastoral.
An exception can be found in his sets of Norwegian folk songs, where he arranged the raw material of his country's music heritage for solo piano. These helped gain him greater notice, and are one of the finest examples of folk-music brought into the concert hall. There are dozens of such works, many of them tiny gems, others more substantial.
Grieg also wrote one piano sonata, which is somewhat different, on the surface, from his smaller works. A true romantic sonata, it nevertheless features his now familiar song-like approach to music, especially in its second movement. This sonata was and is often performed, yet it is surprising that he did not write another. He remained more interested in his miniatures though he also wrote orchestral and chamber works. In the same manner, he composed just the one piano concerto, which is an extremely popular and oft-performed work. It is played here by Knardahl, with the original version also performed by Love Derwinger.
One work that stands out is the Ballade in G minor, Op. 24, the longest amongst Grieg's pianistic output at just over 20 minutes in this recording. This comprises a series of 14 variations on a Norwegian folk song. Grieg composed this piece after the deaths of his parents in the autumn of 1875. He was overcome with grief, and that comes through in this densely emotional work Knardahl plays it with her emotions at her fingertips.
Some of the pieces are transcriptions from Grieg's larger orchestral works, such as Peer Gynt, Sigurd Jorsalfar, and the Holberg Suite. Grieg very much enjoyed making piano reductions of these works, and his transcriptions shed interesting light on the larger works from which they derive.
The last two discs contain works not published during Grieg's lifetime. Whether the early version of the Piano Concerto, alternate versions of a few works, or some very early pieces that he never deemed interesting enough for publication, these two discs in essence offer the extras or out-takes of Grieg's piano output.
Across the 787 minutes of this set, I have to confess to a preference for Grieg's shorter pieces over the piano sonata, concerto and Ballade. From almost any time in his career, from his lyric pieces to the Norwegian folk songs, from his "short pieces" to his transcriptions of his own songs, dipping into this astounding range of work is never disappointing. In the same way that Schubert rarely wrote a mediocre lied, Grieg has very few weak piano pieces. You can dip into these works at any time and the gods of shuffle will pull out an interesting juxtaposition of pieces that, in spite of when they were composed, fit together organically. There is so much here - again, the comparison to Schubert's lieder comes to mind - that one can explore these works for years and never truly get to the bottom of them. While the last two discs contain some works that are, perhaps, minor, the remainder of this set is a collection of gems that sparkle from any angle.
The recording quality of these discs is excellent, and the piano sounds present without too much reverb, though the Derwinger recordings are a bit hollower than the Knardahl discs. The recording hall adds a different type of reverb, and Derwinger plays a Steinway to Knardahl’s Bösendorfer. For an interesting recording, you might also want to listen to Leif Ove Andsnes' selection of Lyric Pieces played on Grieg's own piano. Given the price and completeness of this set, and the quality of the performances, there is little reason for you to hesitate. Even if you've only sampled Grieg's works in the past, this budget set is a fine reason to discover the full range of his piano compositions. Should you not want all this Grieg, however, the individual discs are still available from BIS, and the three CDs of Lyric Pieces would be a great purchase.
-- Kirk McElhearn, MusicWeb International
Beethoven, R. Schumann, Saint-Saëns: Symphonies for Piano Duo vol. 2 / Uys & Schoeman
SOMM Recordings is delighted to announce the eagerly-awaited second volume of the Tessa Uys and Ben Schoeman Piano Duo’s ground-breaking series exploring Franz Xaver Scharwenka’s transcriptions of Beethoven Symphonies. A composer of no mean stature in his own right, Scharwenka’s transcriptions were once widely admired, his treatments of Beethoven’s symphonies a high-watermark of the genre. Volume 1 (SOMMCD 0637) met with universal acclaim; Gramophone praising the “mastery” of the performances, BBC Music finding it “utterly beguiling” and MusicWeb International declaring “I was blown away by this magnificent recording”. Volume 2 features the first recording of Scharwenka’s transcription of Beethoven’s iconic Fifth Symphony for piano duet. Claiming a direct connection to Beethoven via his teacher Franz Kullak, who had studied with Beethoven’s pupil Carl Czerny, Scharwenka provides a virtuosic re-imagining of the Fifth’s tremendous scale, organic growth and seething energy. The Variations on a Theme of Beethoven by Saint-Saëns show him, Robert Matthew-Walker says in his informative booklet notes, “at his most brilliant and searching... beautiful, imposing and elegant, as well as humorous”. Robert Schumann’s Andante and Variations in B-flat reveal Romanticism’s quintessential musical poet at his most emotionally acute: “overhung with a pervading sense of intimacy, the music unfolds as a series of reflections upon the Andante theme, refracted in genuine variation styles of tempo, rhythm, tonalities (beautifully implied) and character”.
Review
Hot on the heels of the first volume of this enterprising series comes volume 2, this time including what is perhaps the most famous symphony of all time, Beethoven’s 5th, here given its world premiere recording in the transcription for piano duet by Franz Xavier Scharwenka.
As with the previous volume and the “Eroica” (see my earlier review here), the 5th needs no introduction or apologies and Scharwenka expects both pianists to be virtuosi. The opening chords are surprisingly not written for double octaves as might have been expected; Scharwenka saves those for later on when even more firepower is required. Again, throughout this transcription, multiple solutions are offered to deal with the problem of arranging a work for full orchestra for piano and all is superbly realised by the duo. The opening tempo for the first movement is perhaps a little slower than expected at the start but that is more than made up for later as both pianists flamboyantly navigate the complex writing. Also, as before, the notation is subtly arranged to make it playable on two pianos and this has the added bonus of making some detail clearer than in the orchestral version.
The second movement comes across very well too – all the details are present and presented via the medium of twenty fingers. The contrasts are beautifully pointed out: a sense of calm serenity pervades this music and the pianists respond excellently to the challenge. The rippling accompaniment starting at 2:39 - but also occurring elsewhere - is cleverly written and perfectly judged. There some surprises here too; harmonies are clarified and details that perhaps would normally be lost are brought to the fore. Both pianists make a superb job of this movement and it contains just as much drama as a performance for full orchestra. The fortissimo sections make an excellent contrast to the nervier and quieter moments and the ending of the movement, with its defiant chords, is splendid.
The Scherzo follows with its weird march like chords and repeated loud interruptions, all of which are again played with aplomb. The crazy scrambling section from about two minutes onwards sounds just perfect and the cunning interjections by the second pianist (I presume) that ultimately derail this trail of music are wittily done. The build up to the cheerful, blazing finale is excellently judged and that final ‘Allegro’ part starts with a bang, with bagfuls of virtuosity from both participants and continues in the same vein. There are lots of powerful tremolandos here, judiciously used and all of which add to the drama. The build up to the quieter section at about five minutes is excellently controlled and sounds absolutely right. The ending where Beethoven applies the brakes to the music before restarting again with renewed vigour is miraculously realised – listen out for the notes originally on the flutes in the last two minutes sounding almost woodwind-like but on a piano. The ending with sustained loud and powerful virtuosity from both performers is just brilliant. This is an awesome performance of a magnificent transcription; comparisons with Liszt’s transcription (S464 no.5) are perhaps inevitable but here Scharwenka has the advantage of using twice as many fingers so the overall effect is somewhat “fuller” than Liszt’s absolutely astounding and craftily realised version. This is another example of such a skilful transcription that you almost forget that the original was for full orchestra. I’ve run out of superlatives here, but suffice it to say that this performance is absolutely top notch and the joyfulness and intelligence of the performers and the committed nature of the playing make it absolutely worth hearing.
I should say that the Beethoven transcription is for piano four hands and played on a rather splendid sounding Fazoli piano whereas the remainder of the disc is played on two Steinway model Ds. There is little difference in the recording level or sounding between the instruments and I am more than happy to listen to either.
In a well-thought-through contrast to the blazing conclusion of the Beethoven transcription, Schumann’s rarely heard variations published as Op.46b follows next on this disc. This work exists in two versions – it was originally written for two pianos, two cellos and a horn but following a suggestion from Mendelssohn, Schumann later revised for just two pianos as heard here. These open quietly with a rather lovely slightly melancholy tune that receives a whole gamut of variation from beautifully quiet and reflective ones (heard at the outset of the piece) to bouncy march like ones (as at 4’50’’) and all points in between. As with the preceding Beethoven, the playing throughout is very intelligent and the two pianists react well to each other’s playing, producing a result full of musicality. The slower variations are deeply affecting and the quasi-funeral march one at about six minutes is especially good; the way it segues into the following faintly sad variation is perfectly handled. Schumann was, as usual, channelling his inner Florestan and Eusebius in the composition of this work but there is perhaps a slight preference for the latter, as overall the work has a dreamy and melancholy mood. Surprisingly, towards the end of the piece, Schumann brings back the opening theme completely unadorned, and uses it to generate a suitably fitting conclusion to this wonderful piece. I have to say that prior to hearing this recording I was only dimly aware of this work but on repeated listening, I have really grown to appreciate its many wonderful turns of phrase and clever writing.
The disc concludes with Saint-Saëns’ epic variations on a theme by Beethoven. As I have said before, this is a work that I have previously had issues with; I have no idea why but it just doesn’t strike me as the composers’ best work and it has always seemed a little laboured. However...I am now much fonder of the piece. The opening is mysterious and only hints at the theme which he uses (from the Trio of the Scherzo from Beethoven’s E flat Op.31 no. 3 Sonata – sometimes nicknamed “The Hunt”) but once the theme emerges, it is subjected to ten contrasted variations including a complex, virtuosic fugue. The opening variation is a scurrying, “catch me if you can” treatment of the theme in scales and is here played very fast, with plenty of wit and character. The following variation is a complete contrast: a rather lovely lyrical treatment of the theme with some clever darker episodes and throughout some nice examples of the pianists bouncing off one another to create a spontaneous atmosphere. Thirdly, a strange inverted version of the theme; again, the Scherzo like character here is abundantly obvious and the playing is excellent. Variation 4 is extremely entertaining: bouncy repeated chords and much interaction between the pianists who again spark well off each other. Variation 5 is again a change of pace and the difference from the previous one is very marked. Here, trills and some very pretty playing join to make a splendid little creation with plenty of harmonic invention and humour. We return to scales for the following variation, with some added arpeggios for good measure. I particularly like the way the ends of phrases are rounded off here – this is a most astute and intelligent performance. I especially enjoyed the mock funeral march that is variation 7; this is just weird in comparison to the other, more conventional variations here - the playing is almost hysterical with grief and matches the mood of this variation perfectly. As the work progresses into variation 8, it becomes more and more difficult to follow the progress of the variations but we have a restatement of the spectral opening that gradually evolves to the complex fugue that is variation 9. This is the core of the work and is perhaps the composer’s reaction to Beethoven’s Eroica variations (Op.35). Here, there are plenty of notes for both performers to negotiate and they do so with the same high level of virtuosity and commitment that they display throughout this disc. This is such a witty take on the theme and to my ears the way that the textures are handled hints at the Scharwenka transcription from earlier in the disc and thus fits in very well here. This variation leads directly into variation 10, the conclusion of the work and featuring the tune neatly divided between the two performers who give a sparkling performance. Right at the very end, the theme emerges almost unadorned as if to remind us how far the music has travelled during the progress of this marvellous work.
As I said for volume 1, this is a magnificent recording; the sound quality is superb, the cover notes are excellent and the playing is exemplary throughout. Full marks to all concerned; I am once again waiting impatiently for the next volume.
--MusicWeb International (Jonathan Welsh)
Beethoven: The 9 Symphonies / Trevino, Malmö Symphony
This new Beethoven symphony cycle with Malmö Symphony Orchestra is conductor Robert Trevino’s debut release on Ondine. Trevino is one of the fastest rising young conductors and known for his fresh and vivid interpretations of both standard repertoire as well as contemporary works. Trevino is currently holding the tenures as chief conductor of the Malmö Symphony Orchestra and as music director of the Basque National Orchestra. After studies with conductors David Zinman, Seiji Ozawa and Michael Tilson Thomas, Trevino worked closely as Leif Segerstam’s assistant before making his debuts with a number of leading symphony orchestras worldwide. These Beethoven symphonies were recorded in connection with a Beethoven festival which was arranged in Malmö, Sweden in October, 2019.
REVIEW:
It may seem bold and even brash for a relatively young conductor like Robert Trevino to launch a new label relationship with a Beethoven symphony cycle recorded in live performance. Yet he has an obvious affinity for this repertoire, compounded by the Malmö Symphony Orchestra’s polished and responsive music making. Ondine’s engineering captures the orchestra in fine detail without artificial spotlighting, conveying a genuine concert hall ambience.
In a perceptive interview with David Patrick Stearns published as part of this set’s annotations, Trevino cites consultations with David Zinman and Daniel Barenboim concerning interpretive matters. Indeed there’s evidence of Zinman’s chamber-like aesthetic and fast tempos, as well as the power and dynamism distinguishing Barenboim’s great Berlin Staatskapelle Beethoven symphony cycle. But Trevino goes his own way, with variable results.
His brisk outer movements in Symphony No. 1 are akin to Toscanini’s opera buffa approach, particularly in the Allegro con brio development section’s playful woodwind repartée. Certain phrases in the Minuet push ever-so-slightly ahead of the beat, yet remain securely locked in, ensemble-wise. In No. 2, Trevino effects an assiduous transition between the Adagio introduction and an enchantingly rollicking Allegro con brio. For all its suppleness of execution, I prefer the more pointed string articulation in Paavo Järvi’s similarly conceived traversal. The controlled delicacy in the Larghetto’s softer music makes this movement sound faster than its actual duration, although it’s on the square side when compared alongside the more robust and inflected Harnoncourt reading.
Trevino undersells the cross-rhythmic sforzandos in the Eroica symphony’s first movement, while the exposition’s basic tempo gradually spreads and slows down: not a lot, but the energy flags. Trevino’s Funeral March is as eloquent and moving as the catalog’s best versions. The conductor accelerates for the Fughetta, yet the carefully layered counterpoint and tremendous dynamic build reflect the music’s shattering intent. The Scherzo has all of Szell/Cleveland’s surface perfection, minus its nervous energy, while the finale variations brilliantly showcase the Mälmo woodwinds’ proficiency.
Trevino largely underplays No. 4. The opening Adagio’s blended string and woodwind passages are super clear but lack the foreboding aura of Thomas Fey’s marked dynamic contrasts and stinging accents. The slow movement’s two-note phrases are not as well-defined as in the Bruno Walter/Columbia Symphony recording.
Some may find No. 5’s first movement overly driven, yet Trevino’s attention to linear interplay never derails. If the Andante con moto doesn’t aspire to Beethoven’s “dolce” directive, notice the uncommon clarity of the upper strings’ staccato 32nd notes. The Scherzo’s clipped detaché tuttis and difficult cello/bass fugal entrance in the Trio are appropriately forceful, while the Allegro finale mirrors the first movement’s relentless momentum.
In the Pastorale, Trevino emulates Zinman’s transparency and fast tempos, but with more distinctive first-desk soloists. The bird-call intimations in the second movement are deliciously shaped, but the fourth-movement storm doesn’t break out into a Klempererian or Kleiberian torrent.
No. 7’s fast-paced outer movements border on glibness, missing the force and drama with which Barenboim/Berlin Staatskapelle, Wand/NDR, the first Solti/Chicago, and Carlos Kleiber/Bavarian State Radio Orchestra grab you by the jugular, figuratively speaking.
Trevino’s first-movement tricks in No. 8 don’t quite work, such as a diminuendo in the opening phrase that telegraphs the subito piano that follows, plus odd accelerandos here and there. The conductor gives short shrift to the cross-rhythmic accents, and to the cellos and basses who carry the melodic burden in the transition leading into the recapitulation. The Allegretto’s woodwind gurgles are recessed to polite effect, when they ought to be in your face. The rollicking finale stands out for deft interplay between orchestral strands, yet the similarly lithe Haitink/London Symphony recording proves more incisive in every respect.
Trevino maintains the basic tempo of No. 9’s first movement with little modification, and makes expressive points solely through variety of articulation and specificity of phrasing. The Scherzo’s vibrantly shaped Trio compensates for the main section’s coolness and lack of fervency. In the briskly reserved Adagio, the decorative string passages still manage to sing out and breathe. And the “Ode to Joy” finale benefits from fine singing and “centrist” tempos that are intelligently unified and not too fast nor too slow.
The conductor observes all repeats, eschews the traditional brass reinforcements in the Ninth’s Scherzo, and opts for the trumpets continuing their phrases in the Eroica first-movement coda. If this Beethoven cycle falls short of our reference versions’ consistent satisfaction and seasoned authority, Robert Trevino’s stylish flair, astute musicianship, and good taste are never in doubt.
– ClassicsToday (Jed Distler)
Ries: Complete Flute Quartets
British Piano Concertos - Pitfield / Penny, Goldstone, Et Al
Born in the first years of the twentieth century and belonging to a generation of composers whose works found their way into the concert hall following the Second World War, Thomas Pitfield was a largely self-taught composer who wrote prolifically for all kinds of instruments and for every type of ensemble.
Folk music influenced the style and form of his compositions but always remained subservient to self-expression. Of the pieces recorded here, it is most apparent in the second Piano Concerto (The Oak and the Ash) and the Studies on an English Dance-Tune (Jenny Pluck Pears).
Good craftsmanship is a quality ever present in Pitfield’s music and readily reveals itself in Piano Concerto No.1 in E minor. It was written in 1946-47 for Stephen Wearing who gave the first performance with the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra under the direction of Hugo Rignold in November 1949. This concerto is one of Pitfield’s best large-scale works, presenting the soloist with some technical problems which Anthony Goldstone, well supported by Andrew Penny and the RNCM Orchestra, copes with admirably.
The interplay between piano and orchestra, especially in the canonic treatment of the first theme in the opening movement, is skilfully marked by clarity of line and texture in this performance. The canonic writing here is not only important as a hint of the canonic compression of the final movement’s rondo theme at the end of the work, but a hallmark of Pitfield’s style.
The outer two movements of the concerto are brilliant but the composer’s invention, musical charm and beauty show themselves to good effect in the middle movement which has a memorable main theme of some solemnity. Here too is a short, and beautifully written, mysterious scherzo-like section, deftly realized by the soloist.
Moments such as this, along with Anthony Goldstone’s generally sympathetic interpretation, lift the music to a level of inspiration beyond the simply pleasing and tasteful.
The length and form of Piano Concerto No.2 was governed by the restrictions imposed by the commissioner, Max Hinrichsen, who was looking for a miniature concerto for the use of American piano students in performance auditions. The result is a work of very unusual form but the main characteristics are unmistakably Pitfield. A quotation from Milton at the head of the score sums it up well – “… and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity”.
Inventiveness is the keynote of this work. The first movement (Dance-Prologue) using three simple tunes on the white keys treated with ostinati, hymn-like harmonization, various rhythms and decoration, is followed by a scherzo (Interlude on White Keys) of running figures and modal melody.
The last movement is curious in that it embodies both the slow movement and the finale presented as a set of variations on the English folksong, ‘The Oak and the Ash’. Here the performers enjoy themselves in the playful rhythms of the first and third variations which are separated by a delightfully contemplative variation scored for piano alone.
Both concertos are recorded with good piano presence and endowed with the rhythmic energy so essential to the composer’s style.
The works for solo piano should not disappoint as Pitfield’s favoured 5/8 and 7/8 rhythms, pianistic decoration and harmonies of almost French flavour, can all be found in his tuneful music. Studies on an English Dance-Tune, written for John McCabe who first performed it whilst still a student at the RMCM in 1961, subjects the folk tune, ‘Jenny Pluck Pears,’ to various rhythmic, modal and playing techniques in seven short movements. Peter Donohoe’s technique and artistry show themselves to good effect in this and the other two works for solo piano included on the disc.
Although an early piece, Arietta and Finale is all one would expect of the composer but it is the Toccata, written for Lucy Pierce and published in 1953, which demands the listener’s attention with its exuberance.
Always looking to the needs of performers, Pitfield often found himself writing for unusual instruments or combinations of instruments when required. His four movement Xylophone Sonata, composed for the Hallé Orchestra’s principal percussionist, Eric Woolliscroft, and superbly executed here by Peter Donohoe, is a work that falls into that category. This lively piece using 7/8 and 10/8 rhythms was published in 1967 and deserves to be heard.
All in all, this collection of works is truly representative of Thomas Pitfield’s output of music for piano. The recording gives much pleasure and, for those who are not already familiar with his music, it is well worth exploring at superbudget price.
-- Stuart Scott, MusicWeb International
Dussek: Violin Sonatas, Vol. 5
SCHUMANN: WALDSZENEN, CARNAVAL, GEISTERVARIATIONEN
Hindemith, Ligeti, Nielsen: Wind Quintets / Vienna Quintet
I am of two minds when it comes to Carl Nielsen (1865–1931). Hearing his name so often in hyphenation with Sibelius (like Debussy and Ravel), I could not imagine how or why anyone would pair these two composers who sounded to me so utterly different in style and musical speech. Moreover, I was (and still am) a Sibelian to the core, and I was mystified that Nielsen, who seemed quite the inferior of the two, could be held up as an equal. Well, that was a long time ago, and before I really applied myself to learning Nielsen’s music. I still believe that Sibelius was the greater of the two composers, but they are so different from one another that comparisons are not very instructive. I have long since come to appreciate Nielsen for the individual and special voice that was his.
His Wind Quintet, op. 43, from 1922, is testament to that unique voice. At nearly 25 minutes, it is a substantive and masterful work. The concluding Theme and Variations movement, especially, is not only a brilliant display of wind-writing technique, but really beautiful and moving music.
What can I say about the Quintett Wien? These five musicians are more than masters of their craft; they come together as a perfectly blended ensemble that breathes as a single living organism. Truly magnificent. Nimbus captures them in an acoustic that is open and radiant, but not reverberant. I know that I will be playing this CD many times over.
Jerry Dubins, FANFARE
Tchaikovsky: Violin Concerto; Bartok: Violin Concerto No 2 / Stern
TCHAIKOVSKY Violin Concerto 1. BARTÓK Violin Concerto No. 2 2 • Isaac Stern (vn); 1 Lorin Maazel, cond; 2 Ernest Ansermet, cond; Swiss Festival O • AUDITE 95624 (69:37) Live: Lucerne 1 8/23/1958; 2 8/18/1956
This release is of particular interest to me, for as one who was born, raised, and lived most of my life in San Francisco, I probably saw and heard Isaac Stern perform live in concert and recital more times than any other single artist. That, of course, was because of Stern’s close ties to the city in which he grew up and studied violin under Louis Persinger, one-time teacher of Menuhin, and with Naoum Blinder, the San Francisco Symphony’s then concertmaster. In 1936, Stern made his debut with the orchestra under the baton of Pierre Monteux, and though he would soon leave San Francisco to pursue a career as one of the world’s most recognized and sought-after violin virtuosos, he returned often to the city that had nurtured him to appear with the orchestra and in recital with his long-time accompanist, Alexander Zakin.
In 1945, Stern signed a recording contract with Columbia, an association that lasted uninterrupted for 40 years, one of the longest such artist/record company alliances in history. And during those years, Stern joined forces with famous conductors, orchestras, and chamber musicians to record the entire mainstream violin concerto and chamber music repertoire, and beyond, often more than once. If you grew up in the 1950s and began collecting records in junior high and high school, as I did, the chances are you grew up with Isaac Stern spinning on your turntables. He was Columbia’s intended rival to RCA’s Heifetz, and I readily admit that I learned much of the violin literature from Stern’s recordings before I discovered those by other celebrated artists.
These versions of the Tchaikovsky and Bartók concertos—let it be stipulated that we are dealing with Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 2, the more famous one, so it needn’t be repeated on each subsequent reference—are not only previously unreleased, they’re claimed to be quite rare, as Stern was seldom recorded live. A 1959 Brahms Concerto with Monteux and the Boston Symphony at Tanglewood was captured live and released by West Hill Radio Archives, which, I presume is still available since it was reviewed by Richard Kaplan as recently as 35:3. But that was the Brahms, not the Tchaikovsky or the Bartók; and while Stern revisited the Tchaikovsky on a number of occasions with different conductors and orchestras, his track record with the Bartók, as far as I know, is limited to his one and only other version, a commercial studio recording he made two years after this one, in 1958, with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. That, of course, makes this Audite release all the more valuable.
Of the Tchaikovsky—not counting this live performance—there are four others I’m aware of: (1) a 1949 recording with Alexander Hilsberg and the Philadelphia Orchestra; (2) a 1958 recording with the same orchestra under Eugene Ormandy, released in both mono (ML 5379) and stereo (MS 6062) and originally coupled with the Mendelssohn Concerto, but reissued a number of times in various sets and singles, including one coupled with the Sibelius Concerto; (3) a 1973 recording with Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic; and (4) the violinist’s last, a 1978 recording with Rostropovich and the National Symphony Orchestra.
Let me deal with the Bartók first, since there’s only one other Stern version to compare it to, the aforementioned studio recording with Bernstein. Before proceeding, however, I need to voice a disclaimer. I’ve had Stern’s Bartók with Bernstein on LP for longer than I can remember, but I haven’t dusted it off and listened to it in ages because, frankly, I never liked it. The reason goes back to my opening paragraph, where I reminisce about seeing and hearing Stern live on numerous occasions in San Francisco, though never in the Bartók.
It was around that same time, however, that another San Francisco-bred violinist, who also returned regularly to the city to play with the orchestra, appeared in 1957 to perform the Bartók. I’m referring, of course, to Yehudi Menuhin, and that was my very first time hearing the Bartók. It made a deep and lasting impression on me.
In that same year, Menuhin made his classic recording of the piece with Antal Doráti and the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra, which was released on a Mercury Living Presence LP, and which I promptly acquired and haven’t parted with since. Menuhin had a special affinity for the piece—he’d recorded it four years earlier for EMI with Furtwängler and the Philharmonia Orchestra—and I found his reading of it not only more idiomatic than Stern’s but more rapturous. Nothing in Stern’s performance transported me the way those magical moments did towards the end of the second movement in Menuhin’s recording with Doráti.
Stern, of course, didn’t suffer the deterioration in bowing that was already quite evident in Menuhin’s playing by 1957, but it may have been because of that, rather than in spite of it, that Menuhin’s performances took on a sense of vulnerability which made them all the more moving. Stern’s live Bartók under Ansermet in 1956 on the present CD is markedly different than his studio Bartók under Bernstein in 1958, and in some ways I like it better. At first glance, as you can see from the timings below, there’s an overall difference of only 16 seconds between Stern/Ansermet and Stern/Bernstein, which would suggest that despite different conductors, Stern’s view of the work hasn’t changed.
| Stern/Ansermet (1956) | Menuhin/Doráti (1957) | Stern/Bernstein (1958) |
| 15:39 | 15:30 | 16:22 |
| 9:47 | 9:08 | 10:01 |
| 11:33 | 11:08 | 10:52 |
| 36:59 | 35:46 | 37:15 |
But a closer look at the timings of the individual movements tells a different story. Under Bernstein, the first movement is almost a minute slower, which is just enough to make it sound a bit slack and lacking in thrust. Compare Stern/Ansermet to Menuhin/Doráti; they’re much closer, with Menuhin being only nine seconds faster. But tempo aside, in both cases, they project the music with a greater febrile intensity. Similarly, in the second movement, though Stern/Bernstein isn’t much slower than Stern/Ansermet, it loses even more of a sense of momentum under Bernstein, and considerably so compared to Menuhin/Doráti.
I think it’s in the last movement, though, that there’s a more serious interpretive misconstruing of the score under Bernstein. Bartók, as is well known, was intrigued by formal symmetry and proportional balance; many of his works exhibit both micro and macro mirroring structures, such as arch forms. The Violin Concerto is no different. The second movement is a set of variations, while the third movement is a variation on the material presented in the first movement. Therefore, it’s important for a performance to present the Finale in a way that reflects the tempos and thematic connections to the first movement. Stern/Ansermet and Menuhin/Doráti manage that better, in my opinion, than does Stern/Bernstein.
It wasn’t until receiving Stern’s previously unreleased Bartók that I was able to make this three-way comparison, and it reinforced for me my general lack of appreciation for the Stern/Bernstein version. Of course, one could make many other comparisons as well, for Bartók’s Concerto has been quite lucky on record. There are superb performances by Henryk Szeryng with Bernard Haitink and the Concertgebouw (another favorite of mine, next to Menuhin), Gil Shaham with Boulez and the Chicago Symphony, and for something more recent, a recording by James Ehnes with Gianandrea Noseda and the BBC Philharmonic on Chandos.
I’ve limited my comparisons to the above three because of their proximal dates, because of the San Francisco connection (both Stern and Menuhin coming of age there, and my hearing the Concerto for the first time performed there by Menuhin), and because Menuhin had a special association with the piece, though he was not the first violinist to play it. Zoltán Székely gave the premiere with Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw in 1939, while Tossy Spivakovsky gave the American premiere in 1943 with Artur Rodzi?ski and the Cleveland Orchestra.
Stern’s Bartók with Ansermet is a fine one, and preferable, I think, to his effort with Bernstein. When it comes to the Tchaikovsky Concerto on this disc, there isn’t much to say. Something that can be said of Stern is that he was a remarkably reliable, even-tempered player. He wasn’t an artist prone to either spontaneous white-hot inspiration or to having off days. When you bought a ticket to a Stern concert or a new Stern recording, you knew in advance what you were going to get, and what you got was never less than good, solid, professional musicianship of a very high caliber.
Frankly, I hear little difference between this 1958 Tchaikovsky with Maazel and the violinist’s studio recording with Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra that same year. If there are any differences worth noting, they relate to the orchestral playing. The Swiss Festival Orchestra is an ad hoc assembly of musicians who come together annually for the Lucerne Festival. The players are all professionals, but they’re drawn from various ensembles around Switzerland and from various European orchestras. Well-rehearsed as they are, it would be disingenuous of me to say that they’re a match for the Philadelphia Orchestra in its prime under Ormandy. So, if you have the Stern/Ormandy Tchaikovsky in one or another of its various incarnations, I don’t think this one adds anything of any special merit to Stern’s recorded legacy. The Bartók, however, I believe does, so recommended to all audiences for the Bartók and to Stern fans in particular for a heretofore unpublished live performance recording of the Tchaikovsky. FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Fairouz: In The Shadow Of No Towers; Glass: Concerto Fantasy / Popiel, University Of Kansas
GLASS Concerto Fantasy for 2 timpanists and orchestra (arr. Lortz) 1. FAIROUZ Symphony No. 4, “In the Shadow of No Towers” 2 • Paul W. Popeil, cond; 1 Ji Hye Jung, 1 Gwendolyn Burgett (timpani); 2 J?nis Porietis (tpt); University of Kansas Wind Ens • NAXOS 8.573205 (57: 48)
The opening piece on this CD, Philip Glass’s Concerto Fantasy for two timpanists and orchestra, is heard here in an arrangement for wind band by Mark Lortz, band director at Stevenson University in Maryland. The transcription, from what I can tell (not knowing the original), seems quite fine, crafted with an excellent ear for texture and style. The problem, as usual, is with Glass’s music itself. Although this piece is not as heavily repetitious as most of the composer’s famous works from the 1970s and 80s, it still relies on repetition to make its point, and in this case the “point” is hammered home by the incessant banging of our two timpanists, Jung and Burgett. Let me put it this way: if you really enjoy Benny Goodman’s old arrangement of Sing, Sing, Sing, with Gene Krupa’s interminable tom-tom banging, you’ll love this Concerto. Glass regales us at the outset with a motif that sounds for all the world like the opening of Lalo Schifrin’s Mission: Impossible theme, interspersed with phrases from the Burt Bacharach song Promises, Promises. The second movement retreats from the sound barrier somewhat, but here the music sounded to me reminiscent of such iconic Glass works as Khayanaquatsi. Our two drummers recede somewhat from the sound barrier here, but the pattern they are drumming remains repetitious. The five-minute “cadenza” for the timpanists finally varies the beat a little, making some allusions to jazz, but not quite enough to hold the listener’s attention. (As comedian Stan Freberg once quipped on one of his records, “That’s close enough for jazz!”) Here, too, the timpanists are joined by xylophone for a real percussion funfest. In the third movement, the syncopation continues, but this time in typical Glassian style. Despite the use of some flatted thirds, this music reminded me of a section from Hydrogen Jukebox.
By contrast, Mohammed Fairouz’s Fourth Symphony, based on a “serious” comic book by Art Spiegelman bearing the title In the Shadow of No Towers, is a masterpiece (this is a world premiere recording). Fairouz has managed to capture the horror of the moment and its aftermath without wallowing in mawkish self-pity. Perhaps the liner notes’ descriptions of the four movements will convey to the reader the quality of the music. The first, titled “The New Normal,” shows a family’s interaction with television before, during, and after the events of September 11, 2001. Fairouz manages to suggest the twin towers collapsing by clashing rising woodwind scales with explosive brass chords, but before this Fairouz captures the feeling of unease with quiet music scored in close harmonics that often border on the eerie, and after their collapse returns to the opening material briefly before exploding again, then continuing in what the composer refers to as “a cold and quick funeral march.” The reader may feel from this verbal description that such a manipulation of musical material and emotional response seems calculated or even predictable, but such is not the case. This is damn fine and extremely creative music; not a single bar sounds formulaic, even if one is told and knows in advance what is “coming” in the music. Fairouz introduces themes that are sometimes developed and at other times juxtaposed with other themes; he keeps the listener off balance not with the sound explosions but with the silences in between.
The second movement, “Notes of a Heartbroken Narcissist,” is based on Spiegelman’s cartoon panels of a self-absorbed yuppie deciding how to comb his facial hair and turning into a rodent. It begins at a volume so low that at first I thought that my CD player had stopped working, with players scraping coins across suspended cymbals. The subcontra ranges of both brass and piano continue the gloomy mood. (Personal footnote: the day after 9/11, I went to work in shock, like everyone else in America. Talking to the young minister of a local church, I told her that what went through my mind was the plight of Olivier Messiaen and his fellow-prisoners during World War II, the four of them—all musicians—not knowing if they or the world would survive those horrible years, and Messiaen’s reaction by writing the Quartet for the End of Time. The minister’s reaction was a bit like the narcissist and his beard: “I just don’t know how to rock and roll any more!”) As annotator Paul R. Laird puts it, what emerges from this movement is not the yuppie’s narcissism but a very “heartfelt lament for those who died in the attack.”
The third movement, “One Nation Under Two Flags,” was Spiegelman’s reaction to the divisive split in America during the following years: the United “Red Zone” and “Blue Zone” of America. In Fairouz’s score, neither one is really treated sympathetically. The Red Zone is represented by shrill jingoistic music, the Blue Zone by music that is “just plain angry.” (Art Spiegelman referred to it as “a martial schizo-scherzo.” I call it modern-day Charles Ives.) Once again, Fairouz keeps you guessing as to how the music will play out. A quiet passage for clarinets and soft solo trumpet over piano comes almost as a shock in the midst of the chaos.
The last movement, “Anniversaries,” is based on Spiegelman’s pictorial description of clocks that restarted on September 12 yet seemed to resemble a ticking “time-bomb that occasionally explodes,” after which the ghostly image of the twin towers grows larger than life before fading away. Here, Fairouz does indeed rely on the gimmick of a ticking clock sound as the underlying motif for the movement, but once again his inner ear for harmonic movement and sound color are astonishing. He almost makes of the wind ensemble something entirely different than what we are used to: the sounds that emerge sometimes resemble a harmonium, at other times an organ. It is the musical equivalent of the relentless march of time against a backdrop of horror brought, kicking and screaming, into our lives.
In praising the varied moods of the Fairouz Symphony, one must give special credit to the University of Kansas Woodwind Ensemble and their director, Paul Popeil. This is playing on an extraordinarily high level of a work that is technically and emotionally demanding from start to finish.
A split review, then. It almost seems unfair that so trivial a work as the Glass Concerto is paired on this disc with an incredible masterpiece. It’s rather like putting someone’s Variations on “Blue Suede Shoes” on the same disc with the Górecki Third Symphony. Yet I must urge you to acquire this disc for the Fairouz work. You simply won’t believe how brilliant it is.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Brian: Orchestral Music, Vol. 1 / Garry Walker, Bbc Scottish Symphony
I have to admit to this being the disc I have most eagerly awaited hearing for some months. That being the case I am delighted to be able to report that it has fulfilled all my expectations if not exceeded them – let us all hope that the titling of this as ‘Volume 1’ really does augur well for an extended series of discs by this unique composer.
In recent years there has been a steady trickle of Brian’s orchestral works appearing on CD but when you dig a little deeper it becomes clear that these are in effect re-releases of performances where the originals date back some years. So in fact it is nearly ten years since the last ‘new’ recording – Psalm 23 on ClassicO [recorded 2002], then back into the 1990s for the abortive Marco Polo/Naxos ‘Brian Cycle’, the 1980s for EMI’s brief flurry of interest using the RLPO, and the 1970s for the Leicestershire and Hull Schools Symphony Orchestra’s brave traversal of several discs with Unicorn-Kanchana and CBS. This is by no means a complete survey but it gives you a sense of the piece-meal attempts to commit Brian to disc.
Toccata Classics are proving to be valiant disciples of the Brian cause both on disc and in print. Recently I had the pleasure of reviewing the superb Havergal Brian on Music: Volume Two which Toccata have published. Both that project and this have been instigated under the watchful eye and guiding hand of the Havergal Brian Society and Brian expert Malcolm MacDonald. As part of the book review I commented - has ever a composer been so fortunate in their biographer / promoter as Brian with MacDonald? His knowledge, insight and understanding of this shamelessly idiosyncratic composer is little short of stupendous. That sense of dedication suffuses every element of this recording from the fascinating choice of repertoire on this well programmed CD to the fine engineering supporting excellent playing from the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra.
I have to admit that I have not heard any of this music before so I have no frame of reference with which to compare the current performances. Suffice to say there is an air of ‘rightness’ and conviction that is vital to bringing off this often quirky music. Having read the two volumes of Brian’s critical writings has only increased my appreciation of him as a composer. I have a suspicion that even among his more famous composer contemporaries he was the most knowledgeable about the latest developments in the musical scene. His journalistic writing shows him as an enthusiastic supporter of an extraordinarily wide and diverse range of then contemporary music. This, to my mind, adds significantly to his stature as a composer in his own right for instead of producing a mish-mash of musical influences his own work remains strikingly independent. It is well-known that he was largely self-taught as a composer but the choices he makes; structurally, harmonically or melodically are never made through ignorance instead they are guided by a quirky individualism. And therein lies the rub for the listener new to his sound-world; it can often seem that musical material is juxtaposed in a random and almost obtuse manner. Here is where Malcolm MacDonald proves to be such a valuable guide. Whether in this liner or in his definitive 3 volume study of the Brian Symphonies he makes it clear that in what might initially seem ramshackle and even chaotic there is actually a very sophisticated control of form and structure. Brian is dancing to a different tune and it can take the listener some time to ‘hear’ his message. Conductor Garry Walker has become fully attuned to the Brian idiom. As mentioned before these are strikingly confident and convincing performances – orchestras are phenomenally skilled these days but to project such security and conviction as is heard throughout this disc requires those exact same qualities to be projected from the conductor’s podium. It is rare indeed that such complex and demanding music is first heard played as here and it adds considerably to the positive impact of the disc. On the evidence of this disc Walker proves himself to be an interpreter of distinction.
Another remarkable thought is the fact that the works performed here span an astonishing 65 years. The earliest work is the 1903 Burlesque Variations on an Original Theme. Never performed in Brian’s lifetime this is its first professional performance. But why? Some Brian can be tough to digest on first sitting but not this work – it has instant appeal. Written when Brian was 27 it represents his first effort at large-scale orchestral composition. He scored the work for a large romantic orchestra with triple wind, standard brass – but including four trumpets – extended percussion, two harps and organ. Lasting some twenty-five minutes and consisting of a theme and seven variations this is a well balanced and fascinatingly wide-ranging piece. Yes there are moments where the orchestration feels opaque and indeed clumsy but these are repeatedly offset by passages of remarkable power, mystery and beauty. Why Burlesque Variations? – MacDonald offers a fascinating opinion; variation form recurs often in Brian’s works and usually he chose to take a banal/simple tune and then expand the seemingly limited potential of that melody beyond all expectation. Hence the Fantastic Variations of 1907 – based on ‘Three Blind Mice’ or The Symphonic Variations of 1916 – based on ‘Has anybody here seen Kelly?’ are just two examples. It is as if Brian is trying a kind of alchemy transforming the base material of a simple song into musical gold. Yes, the influences are often clearer here than in later Brian and clearly Elgar provided a model but I am pushed to think of any other work by a twenty-seven year old British composer from around the turn of that century of such confident quality. Although I know others will disagree I find Josef Holbrooke’s music to have an empty bombast and reliance on musical effect to which Brian never resorts while York Bowen is interesting and appealing but never challenging in the way Brian is. The closing pages of these variations do try to lift the simple tune onto a grandiose level which is beyond both the melody and the composer (at this stage in his career) but elsewhere there are brilliantly achieved musico-dramatic effects. Try Variation 2 – Tempesto and the simply gorgeously poignant Variation 3 – Elegy that follows. The latter is the emotional heart of the work and opens as a gently regretful valse triste very much in the style of the Nedbal or Sibelius works of that name before building to a powerful strenuous climax way outside the remit of those pieces. The return to the reflective opening is typical Brian in the rapid change of emotional direction before he builds it back to a climax of cinematic splendour. Subtle it is not but hard the heart not to be moved on some level – I love it. Curiously the London publisher Bosworth published the suite which contains Nedbal’s work in 1903 and it became the composer’s biggest hit. But the similarity is one of form nothing more. But it does point up another fact worth considering here; Brian’s music never sounds “English” in the pastoral sense of the word. More ‘stout and steaky’ than ‘cowpat’.
Chronologically, the next work on the disc dates from exactly fifty years later. How typically perverse of Brian in austerity Britain to produce a work that by title alone would seem to belong to the light music world of Edward German or Percy Fletcher. For sure this is lighter music than much of Brian’s output but it has far more substance and muscle than the bulk of the light music repertoire. Not that it is at all in tune with the prevailing trends in 1950s contemporary music either. Again, one has the abiding sense of Brian writing music that suited himself when it suited him. This proves to be another piece of instant appeal with the heart of the work being the second movement Reverie. Throughout the whole work and the orchestral writing – angularly expressive but with awkward parts for solo instruments and some thrilling brass scoring – there is a scale and sweep that is very impressive. Clearly this is not meant to be a work uttering the profoundest thoughts and feelings of the composer but it does show the confidence and expertise with which Brian handled his resources. I would suggest ignoring the titles – I couldn’t help wondering if Brian has used such deliberately twee and diminutive headings in a provocative and ironic manner. Here is another curious parallel – the central pair of movements are scored first for strings alone – the aforementioned Reverie, and then wind and horns - Restless Stream. Vaughan Williams did much the same in his almost exactly contemporaneous Symphony No.8 – although the wind scherzo comes first before the string Cavatina. Not that we can accuse Vaughan Williams of any kind of plagiarism – Brian’s Suite was not to be heard for twenty years (neither can the accusation be reversed – the Vaughan Williams was not premiered until 1956). The closing Village Revels is also the final music on the disc – again ignore the title, this is quite unlike any revel I can imagine but it provides an exciting conclusion to all the works here.
MacDonald explains Brian’s recurring use of the term Elegy to describe movements or individual works. This was the title ultimately given to a 1954 composition originally called A song of sorrow. Brian renamed it some sixteen years later when reassessing his back catalogue with a view to publication. The rationale being that the original title implied a kind of emotional one-dimension that does not encompass the full range of this very impressive work. MacDonald points towards a definition that encompasses both the classical laments of Ovid and the romantic poetic works of Goethe and others. As a critic Brian wrote enthusiastically about Busoni and MacDonald sees a link with such works as that composer’s Nocturne Symphonique or the Sarabande and Cortege. But influence or inspiration is all this link should be seen as. Again Brian has produced a work as striking in its individuality as its expressive power. Jagged and rugged energy courses through this work. There are more of the typical Brian Symphonic fingerprints here, a sense of a restless quest the music searching and unstable. Yet at the same time there is an underlying feel of something grand and ceremonial. MacDonald sees it as a long slow struggle from C minor to the light of C major. Elsewhere on the disc I am a little uneasy about Brian’s penchant for almost hyper-active percussion writing. By my reckoning the percussion should point a moment in the score – dynamic alone need not be a factor – for Brian there seems to be a percussive ‘happening’ in nearly every bar. But here, massed side-drums set against tip-toeing xylophone creates some rather special effects. Again I have nothing but praise for the bravura confidence of the playing of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. There is some truly thrilling brass writing here dispatched with total aplomb. Much as I enjoy the discovery of the Variations on this disc if I had to choose one work to represent Brian it would be this Elegy. As this represents its first recording I would suggest that that alone is enough to merit buying this disc.
My only relative musical disappointment on this disc was with the Legend: Ave atque vale which opens it. In its own right it is remarkable because it is the work of a ninety two year old man. The title which means ‘hail and farewell’ is taken from Catallus’ poetic elegy to his drowned brother written in about 56 BC. MacDonald describes it as being ‘crammed to bursting point with disparate ideas’ which is a sympathetic way of saying perhaps it has not been edited or structured with as much discipline as earlier works. To my ear – given that this is NOT a judgment borne of extended familiarity – it sounds too rambling and disparate in its elements. Here the percussion has an absolute field day throughout without really justifying their continuous presence in musical terms. Possibly this is the kind of work that Brian’s detractors might single out as showing his weaknesses. However, it has the great good sense not to outstay its welcome and by representing just seven minutes of over an hour of vintage Brian no collector need hesitate on this piece’s account. On a positive note it does act as an extraordinary tribute to the undying vitality and individuality of Brian to very end of his long life.
Hopefully, it will be clear by now that I consider this a very special disc – exactly the kind of high quality combination of rare repertoire, performance and technical presentation that collectors hope for. For those as yet unfamiliar with the Havergal Brian I think this could act as an excellent introduction. On the recent Testament release of the famous Boult/BBC performance of Brian’s legendary Gothic Symphony the disc concludes with an interview with the composer where he underlines the fact that he wrote music with little or no expectation of hearing it performed. Instead he was responding a personal creative imperative that could not be denied. How gratified he would be to know that finally his music is beginning to receive the attention is deserves. A Volume 2 from this same team is essential and this current disc will be one of my discs of the year without doubt.
-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International
Charles Wood: String Quartets
Berlioz: Symphonie Fantastique; Varese: Ionisation / Mariss Jansons
BERLIOZ Symphonie fantastique 1. VARÈSE Ionisation 2 • Mariss Jansons, cond; Bavarian RSO • BR 900121 (58:45) Live: Munich 1 3/7-8/2013 and 2 7/1-2/2010
This new recording of Berlioz’s iconic masterpiece has a good feel to it—certainly, a more “Berlioz-ish” feel than the interesting but emotionally detached version by Robin Ticciati. Jansons achieves this feeling, particularly in the first movement, by means of varied accents on certain notes within the phrases, as well as by means of superbly chiseled dynamics that bring out details within the score without unduly italicizing the music. This gives the listener the feeling of, as the movement is titled, “Reveries and Passions.” Here, from the outset, one is aware of an awakening of the things that will eventually come to pass in the ensuing movements. This performance does not include the optional cornet solo in the second movement, but here, too, Jansons accents the music in a way (and I know this is hard to put into words) that just “sounds French.” You’ll know exactly what I mean when you hear it. I was also fascinated by the way in which Jansons held my interest throughout the “Scenes aux champs,” undoubtedly the most difficult movement of the five to pull off well—it’s so easy for this movement to come across as boring, particularly when it is not inflected.
One of the more interesting aspects of this performance is that Jansons does not slam into the “March to the Scaffold” as if it was the most dramatic event in the symphony (as so many conductors think), but, rather, almost ties it in to the previous movement by understating its opening measures. I would have liked a little more raw power when the brasses opened up, but he maintains his overall sense of balance here by not exaggerating. Jansons, rather, saves the all-out drama for the last few bars, which actually makes more sense—after all, that’s the “drop.” Jansons saves his best and most dramatic gestures for the “Witches’ Sabbath,” which has all the power and strange accents one could wish for. (Serpent Watch for those who actually care: That instrument is not used in this performance.) The particular way in which Jansons accents the timpani in the middle of the movement is absolutely wonderful, producing an effect I’ve heard in no other performance. All in all, this is exactly the kind of performance we critics yearn to hear but so seldom do, one in which a fresh approach is brought to an old warhorse, yet does not damage or mar the music.
Edgar Varèse’s strange work for percussion instruments and siren, Ionisation (1931), may seem a bit too different to follow Berlioz on a disc, but in its own way it is an ear-cleanser, particularly when one has been listening to a lot of Romantically-influenced music. The liner notes credit Varèse with having “discovered the mechanical siren as a musical instrument,” but George Antheil did that first in his 1924 Ballet Mécanique. Here, too, Jansons finds an unusual way of playing the work, giving it a jaunty, syncopated feeling, and it ends up being quite an enjoyable romp.
In its own way, this performance of the Berlioz is as good as the old mono recording I praised two issues back by Carl A. Bünte on Bella Musica, and the sonics are easily 20 times better here. Highly recommended.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Ives: The Anniversary Edition
On the 150th anniversary of the birth of Charles Ives - acclaimed by his champion Leonard Bernstein as the "first great American composer", who, "all alone in his Connecticut barn, created his own private musical revolution" - Sony Classical presents the most authoritative recording collection ever released of works by this eccentric, prophetic genius.
The 5-CD box set Charles Ives - The Anniversary Edition is a unique and provocative introduction only released previously 50 years ago on LP by Columbia Masterworks under the art direction of Henrietta Condak to celebrate Ives's centenary.
The first disc examines "The Many Faces of Charles Ives" through eight diverse works recorded between 1964 and 1970: Bernstein conducts the New York Philharmonic in The Fourth of July and The Unanswered Question; General William Booth Enters into Heaven, one of Ives's towering achievements, and The Circus Band are performed by the Gregg Smith Singers; baritone Thomas Stewart sings the moving song In Flanders Fields; organist E. Power Biggs plays Ives's Variations on "America"; composer Gunther Schuller conducts The Pond for chamber orchestra; and the Largo cantabile Hymn is performed by the New York String Quartet and double bass player Alvin Brehm. CD 2, "The Celestial Country", offers Ives's early cantata by that name, composed in 1897-99 for his conservative Yale composition teacher Horatio Parker. It is sung by the Gregg Smith Singers (accompanied by the Columbia Chamber Orchestra), who also perform arrangements of four of Ives's most powerful patriotic songs with the American Symphony Orchestra and Leopold Stokowski conducting. "The Things Our Fathers Loved", CD 3, contains 25 of Ives's songs, delivered by the soprano Helen Boatwright, who specialized in American song. She is partnered by John Kirkpatrick, who studied and worked closely with Ives and is still regarded as the most authoritative interpreter of his piano music. Gramophone in 1974 praised this famous recording as "the finest selection ever to appear" on LP of "what may well turn out to be considered his most important, characteristic and consistently inspired body of music."
Paganini: Quartets for Strings & Guitar, Vol. 3
Many Paganini scholars consider the quartets with guitar to be among his finest chamber works. The care Paganini took in their composition is documented in numerous letters asking the opinion of his friend Luigi Germi, to whom Quartet No. 10 is dedicated. The Quartets, Op. 4 and Op. 5 with their almost playful eccentricities and freedoms show the composer trying out a variety of forms and variations on convention, all with his typically virtuoso and lyrical touch. Volume 2 of this edition (CDS7938) was admired for its ‘crisp and elegant sensibility’ in BBC Music Magazine.
Beethoven: Complete Works for Piano & Violoncello / Altstaedt, Lonquich
Beethoven’s output for cello and piano is fascinating because it covers every period of his career, from early to late, with references to Bach in op.69 and op.102 no.2 and an especially innovative and amazingly modern musical language. For this complete set, which includes the variations on themes from Handel’s Judas Maccabaeus and Mozart’s Die Zauberflote, Nicolas Altstaedt was keen to record on an instrument with gut strings, a Guadagnini from Piacenza dated 1749, and using a Classical bow. Alexander Lonquich, his faithful recital partner – they been inseparable companions since the day Altstaedt replaced his teacher Boris Pergamenschikow at the last minute for a concert of Beethoven sonatas with Lonquich at the Beethovenfest in Bonn in 2004 – here plays a Graf fortepiano of 1826. The combination of these instruments produces a finely balanced sound and exceptional tone colors. This recording is Nicolas Altstaedt’s first for Alpha as a soloist. Others will follow, in very different genres, for eclecticism is the hallmark of this musician, among the most promising of the new generation.
Chopin, Debussy, Ravel & Schumann: Waltzes
Bach: Inventions & Sinfonias / Dinnerstein
Simone Dinnerstein, a graduate of the Juilliard School, is an inventive artist who is motivated by a desire to find the musical core of every work she approaches. The Independent praises the “majestic originality of her vision” and NPR reports “She actively listens to every note she plays, and the result is a wonderfully expressive interpretation.” Dinnerstein’s schedule has taken her around the world since her tri- umphant New York recital debut at Carnegie Hall in 2005, performing with such world famous orchestras as the New York Philharmonic, Montreal Symphony, Vienna Symphony Orchestra, Atlanta Symphony, Baltimore Symphony, and she has also performed at Lincoln Center’s Mostly Mozart Festival and the Ravinia Festival.
Reger: Organ Works
Franck: Piano Rarities - Original Works & Transcriptions / Armengaud
Few composers have enjoyed a late flowering to compare with that of César Franck. Many of the great works in this recording were composed during his final decades and still stand today as powerful representatives of French music in the post-Franco-Prussian War period. The influence of Wagner can be heard in the poetic evocations of Les Éolides, while the magnificent Prélude, Choral et Fugue, much admired by Liszt, reinterprets well-known Baroque-era genres into an unforgettably expressive Romantic aesthetic. Widely acknowledged as one today’s great interpreters of French music, Jean-Pierre Armengaud presents an album of rarities composed for piano by Franck and arrangements of the composer’s works by distinguished musicians from the early 20th century.
REVIEWS:
The welcome César Franck revival rumbles on...here’s an interesting collection of piano music from veteran French pianist Jean-Pierre Armengaud. Three out of five of the pieces here are transcriptions; I’d argue that the Prélude, Fugue et Variations, originally an organ work from 1863, sounds far more appealing in Harold Bauer’s piano arrangement. Armengaud’s prelude is tender and lyrical, the ensuing fugue’s lines nicely delineated. The final section’s baroque flourishes look ahead to the opening of Saint-Saens’ Piano Concerto No. 2, composed just a few years later. The tone poem Les Éolides is heard in an effective transcription by French composer Gustave Samazeuilh. Franck’s claggy harmonic language is easier to make sense of when you can hear the notes clearly, and Armengaud keeps the music moving.
The Prelude, Chorale and Fugue is marvellous...its three movements lasting around 20 minutes. Intensely chromatic and brilliantly organised, Armengaud is superb in the fugue’s radiant B major conclusion, the resonant acoustic really suiting the work. As a closer, there’s the posthumously published introduction to Ruth, Églogue biblique, a large-scale early work for voices and orchestra. Armengaud’s conviction brings it to life[.]
-- The Arts Desk
Franck wrote only two mature piano works, the splendid Prélude, Chorale et Fugue and the rather less fine Prélude, Aria et Finale. The first of these features here; otherwise, we have a collection of transcriptions, all except one by other hands.
We begin with the best-known, the version by Harold Bauer of the Prélude, Fugue et Variation, originally written for organ. Bauer did his work so skilfully that you would hardly think that this was not an original piano work, apart from a few spread chords – but then Franck used these anyway in his proper piano works. In this form it is a worthy companion to the two major piano works, and its gentle melody and limpid flow make a good contrast to the more powerful writing in those works. I liked Armengaud’s performance, in which he makes intelligent use of the Steinway third pedal, the sostenuto pedal, to sustain the deep bass notes while the melody and figuration occur above.
Les Éolides is a most attractive orchestral tone poem, inspired by a poem by Leconte de Lisle about what in English we call the Aeolids, the daughters of Aeolus, keeper of the winds in Homer. The original has an elaborate texture, which makes for complex piano writing in Samazeuilh’s piano transcription.
The sleevenote is helpful and the recording very good.
-- MusicWeb International
Brahms: Orchestral Works / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
This boxed set brings together Thomas Dausgaard and the Swedish Chamber Orchestra’s cycle of Brahms’ symphonies, originally released as four separate discs. Each symphony is coupled with carefully selected works to provide a well-rounded idea of the composer’s orchestral output.
Favorites such as the two concert overtures are included – the laughing and the weeping one, to paraphrase Brahms himself – as well as the beloved Haydn Variations (on a theme likely not by Haydn at all…). Another perennial favorite is the Alto Rhapsody, here with Anna Larsson singing the solo part, but there are also less-heard works – Brahms’s orchestrations of his own Liebeslieder-Walzer for instance, and of six songs by Schubert.
Throughout the set, the composer’s Hungarian Dances run like a thread. Brahms's orchestrations of Nos. 1, 3 and 10 have pride of place on disc 1, with the remaining 18, in much praised orchestral versions by Dausgaard, spread over the remaining three discs. In reviews of the individual discs, critics used words such as ‘freshness’, ‘transparency’, and ‘urgency’ to describe the performances, with Fanfare expressing pleasure at hearing ‘Brahms from the edge of one's seat’.
REVIEWS:
Exciting in quite a different way is Thomas Dausgaard’s invigorating cycle of Brahms symphonies (with interesting additions) with the Swedish Chamber Orchestra. ‘The real purpose of using a small orchestra’, Dausgaard told Andrew Mellor regarding his recording of Brahms’s Second, ‘is to allow us to appreciate all the music that’s there, so that it comes to life in every corner, rather than becoming a mesh of sound'...Dausguaard [conducts] with a sense of style.
-- Gramophone
If you are sympathetic to the ideas that Brahms’s orchestral works can be played successfully by a smaller ensemble, and that the music does not lose its effectiveness when somewhat faster tempos are used, then there is no reason not to explore what Dausgaard and the Swedish Chamber Orchestra have done here. He is an intelligent conductor who infuses his ideas with personality, and Brahms is in good, un-arthritic hands. The recordings, made between 2011 and 2018 in the Örebro Concert Hall, sound wonderful.
-- Fanfare
