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SaleBeethoven: Complete Works for Cello & Piano, Vol. 1 / Schwabe, Rimmer
Naxos · Sep 2024CD$19.99$13.99 -
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Hindemith: Violin Concerto, Violin Sonatas / Frank Peter Zimmermann, Enrico Pace, Paavo Jarvi
BIS · Jul 2013SACD$21.99 -
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N. & A. Tcherepnin: Complete Works for Violin & Piano, Vol. 1 / Koukl, Sahatçi, Paetsch
Grand Piano · Nov 2024CD$19.99 -
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Sammartini: Sonatas for Cello & Bass Continuo / Ensemble Dolci Accenti
Brilliant Classics · Mar 2023CD$13.99 -
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SaleBeethoven: Piano Sonata No 3; Ravel, Chopin / Arthur Rubinstein
ICA Classics · Mar 2013CD$14.99$11.99 -
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Martines: The Complete Keyboard Works
Bland: Piano Sonatas, Vol. 3
Beethoven: Complete Works for Cello & Piano, Vol. 1 / Schwabe, Rimmer
Schubert: Music for Violin, Vol. 1 / Willens, Kölner Akademie
Violin music isn’t what one normally associates with Franz Schubert, but he did in fact receive his first violin lessons as a young boy from his father. At the age of 11 he was accepted as a member of the choir of the imperial court chapel, and as such became a pupil at the Stadtkonvikt school. There he joined the excellent student orchestra, eventually assuming the role of leader. Among his examiners was the court Kapellmeister Anton Salieri, who took a keen interest in Schubert’s compositions. Schubert left the school in 1813, but continued working with Salieri for a few years longer, possibly on some of the pieces recorded here – the Rondo, Konzertstuck and G minor Sonata all hail from 1816 while the Polonaise is from the following year. These early, unpretentious violin compositions were probably intended for Schubert’s older brother Ferdinand, who led the family string quartet in which Franz played the viola. Composed in 1827, when Schubert had already written his symphonies, string quartets, piano sonatas and hundreds of songs, the closing Fantasy in C major is another matter. A substantial piece in four sections, it contains challenging writing for both instruments, demonstrating what a master Schubert himself was on both. On this and its soon-to-be-released companion disc, Ariadne Daskalakis has gathered all of Schubert’s works for violin. Equally at home on baroque and modern instruments, she has chosen to perform them in a historical context, joined by Paolo Giacometti on a fortepiano by Salvatore Lagrassa from c. 1815 and the period band Die Kolner Akademie conducted by Michael Alexander Willens.
Ysaÿe: 6 Sonatas for Solo Violin, Op. 27
Schumann: Piano Works
Kuhlau: Piano Sonatas Op 59 & 20 / Jeno Jandó
KUHLAU Piano Sonatas, op. 59: in A; in F; in C. Sonatinas, op. 20: in C; in G; in F • Jen? Jandó (pn) • NAXOS 8.570709 (59:07)
Ill-fated Friedrich Kuhlau (1786–1832) suffered a number of life’s mishaps. The first, at age seven, was the loss of his right eye in a street accident. The second, many years later, was the loss of all his unpublished manuscripts in a fire that burned his house to the ground. But perhaps the greatest misfortune of all to befall him was Beethoven, or, more specifically, to have been born and lived in Beethoven’s shadow. Born in Germany, Kuhlau fled to Copenhagen in 1810 to avoid conscription in the Napoleonic Army. What? No 4-F exemptions for one-eyed musicians? He remained in Denmark for the rest of his life, never gaining much traction as a composer except for his Danish opera, Elverhøj ( Elf Mound ). He did, however, achieve some recognition as a concert pianist; as a great admirer of Beethoven, Kuhlau introduced a number of Beethoven’s works to Copenhagen audiences. Of Kuhlau’s manuscripts that escaped the flames and made it to publication, there are approximately 200, consisting mainly of chamber works, solo piano pieces, and enough pieces for flute to have earned him the nickname “the Beethoven of the flute.”
Kuhlau is said to have been most heavily influenced by Beethoven, and as one listens to these sonatas and sonatinas, it’s clear that he had at least the more superficial aspects of Beethoven’s early style down pat. I’m speaking here of the keyboard figurations, the harmonic progressions, and the gestural articulation. A perfect example is the Adagio e sostenuto movement of the G-Major Sonatina, op. 20/2. But here the comparison ends. Kuhlau is but a dinghy caught in the wake of an aircraft carrier. Had he lived 25 years earlier, these mostly slight works might have been seen as a significant advance in keyboard style, but he didn’t; and this is what I meant above when I said that Kuhlau’s greatest misfortune was to have been born and lived in the shadow of Beethoven. Consider that the op. 20 sonatinas on this disc are dated 1820; the op. 59 sonatas, 1824. By this late date, Beethoven was done with the piano sonata as a vehicle for expressing his musical ideas. The “Hammerklavier” and the three last sonatas were behind him.
The taxonomic division of the works on this disc into sonatas and sonatinas is a bit of a puzzler. Keith Anderson’s booklet note homes in on this very point, informing us that the three op. 59 works are often published as sonatinas rather than sonatas. The crux of the matter is that in musical lexicography a sonatina refers either to a small-scaled, modest sonata or, more properly, to a sonata-allegro movement without a development section. The op. 59 set on the disc does feature the requisite first-movement development sections to qualify as sonatas, but oddly, they are all relatively brief works and in only two movements. The op. 20 set, though called “sonatinas,” are all more extended three-movement works and, at least in one case—the F-Major—there is a short development section.
It is likely that most, if not all, of these pieces were written for students, as Kuhlau earned no small amount of his income teaching and publishing just such sonatas and sonatinas intended for young fingers. In a 2006 New York Times article I came across on the Internet (http: //www.nytimes.com/2006/07/02/arts/music/02holl.html), Bernard Holland acknowledges that “none of these sonatinas prepare the student for Beethoven at his most ornery,” and asks “Why play Kuhlau in the first place?” He answers his own question thus: “It is easy to dismiss this annoyingly perfect music as a product of mindless rote or a series of bad habits having outlived their time. But the sonatinas have their uses.” What they are, according to Holland, strike me as a bit misguided. “Really interesting composers like Haydn and Beethoven” he continues ( leaving Mozart and Schubert out of the equation —my italics), “violated the unwritten road maps with glee; but fully to understand the originality of the violators, it is nice to have a Kuhlau or a Muzio Clementi to show you just what is being violated.” Apart from the fact that the road maps of harmonic progression and sonata form were hardly unwritten by the late 18th century, what Holland seems to be saying is that Kuhlau’s only purpose is to provide us with a sextant by which to measure the degrees of deviation from true north practiced by the “really interesting composers.”
I have a rather different take on it. In the grander scheme of things, which we cannot know, it may be that neither Kuhlau nor any of the “really interesting composers” has any purpose at all, other than to afford us some pleasure and comfort while we wait to shuck off this mortal coil. Kuhlau is never less than harmonious, pleasing to the ear, attractive, and entertaining. As music, it’s a vacant sand lot, but one I’d rather trudge through than the barren dunes of some of what passes for music today.
Jen? Jandó is one of Naxos’s “house” pianists. He plays everything they throw at him smartly and stylishly. These pieces, of course, make no technical demands that a polished professional such as Jandó isn’t up to. The recording was made in 2007 with Jandó playing a modern grand piano. While recordings of Kuhlau’s keyboard works abound, the current CD appears to be the only one currently available containing these specific opus numbers. Buy, enjoy, and be happy.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Moisey Vaynberg [Mieczyslaw Weinberg]: Cello Sonatas
M. WEINBERG Cello Sonatas: No. 1 in C; No. 2 in g. Solo Cello Sonata No. 1 in C • Alexander Chaushian (vc); Yevgeny Sudbin (pn) • BIS 1648 (55:45)
After a decade’s hiatus—the British label Olympia embarked on a project back in the 1990s to record anew and/or remaster from earlier Melodiya LPs much of the composer’s output—there seems to be a resurgence of interest in the music of Polish-born Mieczys?aw Weinberg, (aka Moisey Samuilovich Vaynberg) 1919–1996. That this interest now extends to a mainstream label such as BIS is encouraging, for Weinberg is considered by many to be the most important Soviet era composer to follow in the musical footsteps of Shostakovich. Though Weinberg never formally studied with him, the elder Shostakovich befriended the young man, encouraged him to move to Moscow in 1943 after the Jewish Weinberg had lost almost his entire family in the Holocaust, and interceded on his behalf when Weinberg was arrested and detained as part of Stalin’s anti-Semitic dragnets.
Despite the friendship that bonded the two men, Weinberg’s music nods respectfully at Shostakovich’s, but does not unconditionally embrace it. His catalog of works is extensive—22 symphonies, 17 string quartets, large quantities of chamber works for various combinations of instruments, solo piano pieces, and seven operas. With due gratitude to Olympia for its efforts on Weinberg’s behalf, the label’s titles seem to have disappeared from the current listings; thus, this major composer’s works are ripe for new recordings. Chandos, for one, appears to have heeded the call with new recordings of the symphonies.
Even though the connections are at times tenuous, I can say that if you appreciate Shostakovich you will respond positively to Weinberg. Not all assessments of Weinberg’s music though, have been positive. Cellist Alexander Ivashkin, for whom Schnittke wrote a number of works, has been most critical, arguing that composers such as Weinberg damaged not only their own reputations, but also that of Shostakovich himself, stating that “these works only served to kill off Shostakovich’s music, to cover it over with a scab of numerous and bad copies.”
I disagree. Clearly, the life experiences of both composers led them to dark and devastating places in their music, and often to programmatic content of mindless violence and the terrible human suffering it produced. But where Shostakovich mocks and satirizes the ugliness and deformities by painting them with a twisted, defaced mask of cheap, tawdry face-rouge, Weinberg seems to have less of a taste for the sarcastic and the sardonic. Lyudmilla Nikitina in Grove finds influences in Weinberg’s music of Bartók, Myaskovsky, Prokofiev, and even Mahler, and emphasizes the “neo-classical, rationalist clarity and proportion of his works.” Then too, ethnic influences of Jewish, Polish, Armenian, Moldavian, and klezmer music are also part of the picture.
The recording of Cello Sonata No. 1 appears to be, at this time, the only one available of this work. Happily, it’s a superb one. [The other two can be found separately on Hanssler and Albany.] Cellist Alexander Chaushian distinguishes himself in all three, but really shines in the technically daunting solo sonata, a work that manages to satisfy and reward as both a virtuosic display piece and a profoundly moving piece of music. Pianist Yevgeny Sudbin has been making a splash of late with his recent recordings of Scriabin, Medtner, and Tchaikovsky. It’s easy to hear why from his playing here. He has fingers of steel guided by the caressing touch of an angel.
An outstanding release and a must-add to your collection. Incidentally, due to the number of disparate transliterations and spellings of Weinberg’s name, you will find him listed at arkivmusic.com as Moisey Samuil Vaynberg. It would be helpful if record producers and annotators came up with a consensus spelling.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Fantasia - Mozart on the Organ
Weiss: Lute Sonatas Vol 9 / Robert Barto
Robert Barto’s distinguished Weiss recordings for Naxos have now reached volume nine. As before he demonstrates a wide range of tone colours, immaculate technical address and an unerring appreciation of Weiss’ quasi-improvisational style. The result is a trio of performances that in every way meets the expectations now placed in the lutenist. And if none of these works approaches the majesty of those contained in, say volume seven of the series (see review) then one must also concede that they nevertheless contain all those elements that make Weiss so noble, so expressive and so powerfully important a composer in this milieu.
The C minor sonata, cast in six movements, is by some way the longest and grandest of the three here. The extensive French overture is beautifully nuanced in all three of its sections, Barto’s technical armoury entirely equal to the demands placed on it and his colouristic sense fully engaged from the start. The Campanella-like Bourée sees him emphasise the bell like articulation implicit within it and he does so with brilliant articulation. As ever he plays Weiss’s slow movement with affecting lyricism; the most impressive in this set is the Siciliana of this C minor, which is taken at a suitably slow tempo. The concerto-like flourishes of the Presto finale are despatched with aplomb, the writing rich and externalised, and the playing virtuosic.
The F major [No.32] is an earlier work written conjecturally some time between 1720 and 1725. It’s performed in the Dresden version as three copies survive, representing two different versions. Its Allemande is refined and leisurely and full of decorative assurance but for me the highlight is the Bourée. Not only is this an example of Weiss at his most uplifting but it also reveals some of Barto’s great strengths – an ability to infuse the music with the most buoyant and immaculate rhythmic incisiveness allied to great warmth of tonal resources. These qualities are heightened by the succeeding cantabile of the Sarabande and by the Gigue that concludes the sonata. One of the revisions undertaken by Weiss was to replace a Gigue in 6/8 with one in 9/8 and the result is engaging and buoyant.
The final work stands at a slight remove from its companions. The G minor No.94 derives from a manuscript in the Glinka Museum in Moscow, music conjecturally brought to Russia from Dresden by Weiss’ pupil Bielogradsky. Whatever the exact origin or derivation it’s a small, charming series of dances with a delightful Paisane and a rare, early use of the Polonaise in its penultimate movement.
The recording, made in St Andrew’s Church, Toddington, is once again first class and Tim Crawford’s notes enhance this characteristically fine disc. Barto has competitors in Weiss recordings – Imamura and Lindberg among them - but for my money he is the most eloquent of them all, and this comprehensive series is a tribute to his skill and involvement.
Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International
G.F. Couperin: Sonatas, Variations & Rondo / Pierini
Hindemith: Violin Concerto, Violin Sonatas / Frank Peter Zimmermann, Enrico Pace, Paavo Jarvi
PAUL HINDEMITH FRANK P. ZIMMERMANN, VIOLIN;*FRANKFURT RADIO SYM. ORCH./P.JARVIENRICO PACE, PIANO ** CTO. FOR VIOLIN & ORCH.(1939*)SONATA FOR SOLO VLN, OP.31 NO.2,"ES IST SO SCHONES WETTER DRAUBEN';SONATA IN E FLAT FOR VIOLIN& PIANO, OP.11 NO.1; SONATA IN E FOR VIOLIN & PNO. (1935)SONATA IN C FOR VIOLIN & PN. (1939)**
Volkmann: Piano Works
Romantic Trumpet Sonatas / Freeman-attwood
'He somehow manages to combine ringing clarity with creamy smoothness, pin-point intonation and effortless agility.' International Record Review
'Outstanding playing with a dynamic range of lively dialogue and solo lyricism in virtuoso style.' The Observer
'A multi-talented trumpeter.' BBC Music Magazine
Renowned for his outstanding technical and musical ability, as well as his unique re-workings of chamber repertoire, this latest album from Jonathan Freeman-Attwood introduces some fresh and unusual arrangements of well-known Romantic music for the under-explored medium of trumpet and piano duo.
The choice of Mendelssohn and Schumann, originally written for cello and violin respectively, allows Freeman-Attwood to demonstrate the melodic lyricism of the instrument as well as the thrilling execution a brass instrument can bring to intricate passage-work.
Grieg?s Holberg Suite has attracted arrangers since its composition; the opening Preludium is a brilliant vehicle for the trumpet and piano, fully showcasing the skills of the duo that have honed their skills over three albums.
These new transcriptions are beyond anything previously imagined for trumpet; they expand the boundaries of the trumpet as a solo instrument and deserve to take their place in the standard repertoire for the instrument.
As a trumpet player, Jonathan Freeman-Attwood has performed and recorded both as a soloist and as a member of various ensembles and has attracted plaudits from the press for his solo recordings.
Jonathan broadcasts regularly for BBC Radio 3 and is Principal of the Royal Academy of Music in London.
South African born Daniel-Ben Pienaar is an award-winning pianist whose live performances and recordings have won him widespread acclaim: 'a kaleidoscope of colours and textures' (International Piano).
Track Listing:
Edvard Grieg
1. Holberg Suite, Op. 40 - Praeludium
2. Holberg Suite, Op. 40 - Sarabande
3. Holberg Suite, Op. 40 - Gavotte
4. Holberg Suite, Op. 40 - Air
5. Holberg Suite, Op. 40 - Rigaudon
Robert Schumann
6. Sonata No. 1 in A minor, Op. 105 - Mit leidenschaftlichem Ausdruck
7. Sonata No. 1 in A minor, Op. 105 - Allegretto
8. Sonata No. 1 in A minor, Op. 105 - Lebhaft
Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy
9. Sonata No. 2 in D Major, Op. 58 - Allegro assai vivace
10. Sonata No. 2 in D Major, Op. 58 - Allegretto scherzando
11. Sonata No. 2 in D Major, Op. 58 - Adagio
12. Sonata No. 2 in D Major, Op. 58 - Molto allegro e vivace
Karl Pilss
13. Sonata for Trumpet and Piano - Allegro appassionato
14. Sonata for Trumpet and Piano - Adagio, molto cantabile
15. Sonata for Trumpet and Piano - Allegro agitato
Total Timing: 70 minutes
N. & A. Tcherepnin: Complete Works for Violin & Piano, Vol. 1 / Koukl, Sahatçi, Paetsch
Taneyev: Violin Sonata, Piano Music / Olga Solovieva, Et Al
TANEYEV Violin Sonata in a. 1 Theme and Variations in C. Repose. Scherzos: in d; in g; in e?; in C; in F. Prelude in F. Quadrille. Andantino semplice. Prelude and Fugue in g?, op. 29. Romance, op. 26/6 (arr. Feigin) 1 • Olga Solovieva (pn); Ivan Peshkov (vn) 1 • NAXOS 8.557804 (72:41)
After several decades in the wilderness, Sergey Ivanovich Taneyev (1856–1915) is enjoying somewhat of a comeback, with a number of recent recordings introducing him anew to audiences that may have known his name but have heard little of his music. With Nikolai Rubinstein as his piano teacher and Tchaikovsky as his instructor in composition, Taneyev graduated from the Moscow Conservatory with honors. He made his concert debut in Moscow in 1875 playing Brahms’s D-Minor Concerto, and the following year he toured Russia as accompanist to the great violinist Leopold Auer.
Unfortunately for Taneyev, a dyed-in-the-wool musical conservative who distinguished himself as a performing artist in the works of Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, and who, as a composer, cast his countenance ever further West and further back than Tchaikovsky, becoming an expert in the techniques of 15th-century vocal polyphony and 16th-century counterpoint, he ran afoul of his Russian nationalist contemporaries. No love was lost between them. Taneyev was disdainful of the “Mighty Handful,” publicly reproaching Balakirev, calling Borodin “a clever dilettante,” and remarking that Mussorgsky made him laugh. He was a bit more deferential towards Rimsky-Korsakov, respecting the composer of Scheherazade for his serious study of counterpoint.
Taneyev’s personality and outlook are perhaps a bit easier to understand when one realizes that he was, in his own mind, anyway, an unfairly untitled aristocrat. Coming from a wealthy family, he enjoyed the resources to pursue his interests in science, history, mathematics, and philosophy. Traveling extensively, he rubbed elbows with literary figures such as Zola and Flaubert, and with musical celebrities such as Franck and Saint-Saëns. Taneyev’s attitude towards the progressive composers and modern music of his day was not dissimilar from that of his older but longer-lived French contemporary, Saint-Saëns; both abhorred what they saw as unschooled, undisciplined dilettantism in any field of endeavor, but especially in music and the arts. When Tchaikovsky left his position at the Moscow Conservatory in 1878, Taneyev replaced him; during his tenure there, Scriabin, Rachmaninoff, Gliere, and Medtner, among others, benefitted from Taneyev’s teaching, though each went his own way once out from under his influence.
The five scherzos for solo piano on this CD, written between 1874 and 1875, are asterisked as being world premiere recordings. And grateful we should be to pianist Olga Solovieva and Naxos for outing them, for they are gem-like beauties, which, in melodic and harmonic vocabulary, are heavily indebted, according to note author Anastasia Belina, to Schumann and Tchaikovsky.
The major work on the program, Taneyev’s 1911 A-Minor Violin Sonata, carries the subtitle, “Of medium difficulty.” The piece was new to me, though there is another recent recording of it listed on the Northern Flowers label. Melodically, as well as in the close exchanges and echoing back and forth of material, the writing bears resemblances to the op. 12 violin sonatas of Beethoven, not surprising, given Taneyev’s Classical leanings and his touring with Auer. Based on the hearing of it—I don’t have the score—I’m fairly confident in saying that the piece is technically easier to play than the Beethoven sonatas. Filled with charming melodies for the violin and delightful effects in the piano part, Taneyev’s Sonata would make a wonderful work for any moderately advanced violin student.
Though Naxos is not claiming premiere recording status for the C-Major Theme and Variations, this is the only current listing I find for it. The piece is a student work dated 1874. Taneyev was 18 at the time and still under Tchaikovsky’s supervision. According to Belina’s note, Taneyev’s exercise was heavily influenced by Tchaikovsky’s “Thème original et variations,” the concluding number in his Six Pieces for Piano , op. 19, which appeared in 1873, the year before Taneyev wrote his work. Evidence in support of Belina’s contention comes in the form of a theme Taneyev borrowed from the finale of Tchaikovsky’s Second String Quartet as a counter-melody in the second variation. The transmigration from Tchaikovsky’s Quartet to Taneyev’s Variations must have happened at the speed of light, for both works were written at virtually the same time.
Of the remaining pieces on the disc for solo piano, the Quadrille is the most interesting and the longest at almost eight minutes. Careful listening reveals that Taneyev did not use the title flippantly or fancifully. He was too much of a stickler for correctitude. Technically and formally, a quadrille is an ancient and very complex dance that became all the rage, alongside the waltz craze, in 19th-century Vienna. If written according to the Viennese form, which Taneyev’s is, the dance is comprised of six sections: (1) an open rondo-form, the “Pantalon,” in 2/4 or 6/8 time; (2) the “Été,” always in 2/4; (3) the “Poule,” a closed rondo form, always in 6/8; (4) the “Trénis,” a mirrored binary form (A-B-B-A); (5) the “Pastourelle,” a modified rondo, always in 2/4; and (6) “Finale,” a double ternary form (AA-BB-AA) in 2/4 time in which each statement of the theme is eight bars in length. It’s fascinating to listen to the precision with which Taneyev adheres to the formal scheme in his whirligig Quadrille.
Finally, there is the Romance adapted for violin and piano from the composer’s song cycle, Immortelles . The appearance of the right-hand piano’s notes on the page is alleged to resemble the stalactites of the song’s title, “Stalaktitï.” While there is a static “dripping-tears” character to the piece, I wouldn’t put too much stock in the analogy, especially if you, like me, associate stalactites with the freakish icicle-like formations found in cold limestone caves. Taneyev’s Romance may be tearful, even sentimental, but it’s heartwarming in the same way that the fourth in the set of Dvo?ák’s Four Romantic Pieces , op. 75, is. In fact, Taneyev’s Romance bears a striking resemblance to the Dvo?ák.
This is a thoroughly winning disc. The more of Taneyev’s music I hear, the more I think he has been undeservedly eclipsed by the very dilettantes he despised. He wasn’t a Russian nationalist in the mold of the “Mighty Handful,” but his music may actually be better crafted than theirs; and, to me at least, it’s more appealing than that of some of his more renowned students. Ivan Peshkov is wonderful in the two violin works, and Olga Solovieva, as both soloist and accompanist, is one of the best advocates Taneyev has. Urgently recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Sammartini: Sonatas for Cello & Bass Continuo / Ensemble Dolci Accenti
The essential contribution that Milan-born Giovanni Battista Sammartini (c. 1700–1775) made to the history of music is universally recognized. He laid the foundations for the Classical symphony: he helped establish the standard composition of the orchestra and promoted independence and individual timbres in his part-writing, while Baroque customs (most notably the basso continuo) gradually gave way to sonata form. In terms of repertoire and recordings, however, Sammartini is still a relative rarity; if you set aside his symphonies and start investigating his chamber music and works for solo instruments, for example, it is soon apparent that many enthralling compositions remain silently filed away in libraries and archives, waiting patiently for the recognition they deserve.
The program on this record ventures into this very partially unexplored terrain, showcasing a selection of sonatas for cello and basso continuo: the collection of six from his Op. 4, published in Paris in 1742, and two sonatas of uncertain date, one in G major and the other in G minor. Although more modest than the symphonies, the cello sonatas display a similar penchant for succinct and elegant writing. Often simple in form, their brilliance stems from the inventiveness of the melody and rhythm and moments of particularly intense and expressive lyricism that are not reliant on excessive ornamentation.
However, it is important to note the confusing history behind the authorship of the cello sonatas on this album. Op. 4 is almost certainly by Sammartini; the ‘almost’ is advisable only for Sonata No. 6, which some scholars believe to be of doubtful authorship. The two sonatas in G major and G minor are less certain. Despite these caveats, the cello sonatas presented here remain an excellent example of the transition from the Baroque to the Classical period and particularly of a singularly elegant compositional style that expertly applies cello technique to imaginative and spontaneous invention. Partly for this reason, the performers on this recording have chosen to further enhance the individual character and freshness of each sonata by using different instruments for the basso continuo line, chosen freely but with strong historical foundations: as well as the more predictable harpsichord, they also make use of the archlute, theorbo, and baroque guitar, in addition to melodic bass passages entrusted to a second cello.
The Cello Sonatas presented here mark the transition between Baroque and Classicism, music full of charm, gracefulness, cantabile melodies and instrumental flourish. Played by the Italian ensemble Dolci Accenti, with Daniele Cernuto (Baroque cello), Calogero Sportato (Baroque guitar, theorbo, archlute), Cipriana Smarandescu (harpsichord) and Anna Grendene (Baroque cello).
Complete Works for Viola, Vol. 1
Beethoven: Piano Sonata No 3; Ravel, Chopin / Arthur Rubinstein
BEETHOVEN Piano Sonata No. 3 in C, Op. 2/3 1. RAVEL Valses nobles et sentimentales 1. CHOPIN Nocturne in D?, Op. 27/2 1. Ballade No. 1 in g, Op. 23 1. Andante spianato et Grande Polonaise brillante, Op. 22 2 • Artur Rubinstein (pn) • ICA 5095 (73:00) Live: London 3/17/1963 1 and 10/6/1959 2
If ever there were a pianist who could be considered the aristocrat of the instrument for the 20th century it would surely be Artur Rubinstein, so full of intelligence, nobility, and remarkable simplicity are his interpretations. He was, above all else, a direct communicator of ideas. Throughout his career he always played to the audience, making them feel part of the show, of the whole experience itself; they in turn loved him for it. And though he was not always the most secure technician (in terms of playing the correct notes, not in terms of his overall musical interpretations) he is in especially fine form here.
His direct approach to the music can be witnessed from the very beginning of the recital. Rubinstein’s Beethoven was always interesting to me depending on the particular repertoire he was approaching—his recordings of the “Appassionata” Piano Sonata or the Fourth Piano Concerto are some of the pinnacles of the recorded performances that have been bequeathed to us in the 20th century. His Beethoven Third Sonata is good—it is straightforward; he has little fluctuation of tempo (though the forte outburst in the first movement at 0:25 does push it a bit); his articulation is crisp when required, and he brings a fine joie de vivre in this bright, but not always sunny C-Major work. There is something lacking for me, though—a tension, a drama that I find inherent in this work. Everything here is just too smooth. In Rubinstein’s Ravel there is a tinge (but just a tinge!) of the percussive quality of a Prokofiev: One can almost see Rubinstein’s grin as he lets the rest of us in on what he knows to be Ravel’s true intentions in this work. Too often are these waltzes performed in a flowery manner. The pianist’s approach is subtle in his carefully calculated tonal shadings and in his elegant way of always maintaining the sense of the beat, of the dance, which inspired one of this composer’s loveliest creations. Rubinstein is in especially fine form in Chopin—his composer. The D?-Major Nocturne is the crowning jewel in this recital: Once again everything that makes a Rubinstein performance special is in evidence here, from the continuous flow of the accompaniment to the way in which he approaches each and every phrase, from the highly lyrical to the highly ornamented. Anyone who questions Rubinstein’s mechanism needs to behold the ease in which he plays each and every note in the rapid flourishes that pervade this work. Not only are all of the individual notes crystal clear, each also has a beautiful ringing tone. The G-Minor Ballade was one of the pianist’s favorite works and he is in spectacular form here. He captures that wonderful sense of the narrative—not only can he make the piano sing, he can make it speak. Unfortunately there is an issue here. A sound anomaly mars this otherwise fantastic recording at around 8:30. The Andante spianato and Grand Polonaise act as encores, coming from a much earlier recital. Here too Rubinstein’s magical qualities come out in the ease in which he projects the gentleness of the nocturne-like introduction and the elegance of the dance that follows. It is not the most dynamic reading of the Polonaise I know, but it is powerful nonetheless.
The sound throughout the recording is fine given its vintage (other than the aforementioned issue in the Ballade). What is most remarkable about Rubinstein for me is his naturalness—there seems to be not even a strand of the eccentric in his playing. His Chopin will always remain a favorite because of its elegance, its straightforwardness, and its rejection of the picture of the composer as a frail and meek individual. His Chopin is timeless. His Ravel too is fascinating. In his hands the music retains its modern aura. This is one disc that you’ll be sure to want in your collection; I’m all too happy to make it part of mine.
FANFARE: Scott Noriega
Leon McCawley: Piano Recital
Jadin: Sonatas for Piano with Violin
According to Marek Toporowski, the French composer Hyacinthe Jadin (1776–1800) authored ‘the greatest masterpieces of the French literature for the fortepiano from the time of the Revolution.’ Despite dying in poverty from tuberculosis at the age of 25, Jadin accomplished much in his brief life, composing both orchestral and chamber music with a bias towards his own instrument, the piano. This includes concertos and the sonatas featured in this collection, which also offer an optional violin accompaniment. Although several published collections have not survived or been recovered, including a further 12 sonatas for the keyboard.
In a previous album on Brilliant Classics, Toporowski produced a definitive modern recording of Jadin’s Sonatas Opp. 4-6 (96958). In the present collection, he presents Opp. 1 and 3, along with Jadin’s trio of Op.1 string quartets in the composer’s own arrangement for piano and violin. Toporowski finds a pre-Romantic sensibility in this music, with tantalizing anticipations of Schubert, Weber, and even Mendelssohn in Jadin’s heightened language of expression, which ventures far beyond the conventional forms of his contemporaries.
An important point of reference for Jadin was nonetheless the music of Haydn. The Op.1 String Quartets, as played here in the composer’s transcription, are dedicated to Haydn and contain very obvious references to this composer’s style, particularly to his refined modulations. Jadin was also active in Paris while Jan Ladislav Dussek was living in the French capital. As a later co-creator of the London school of piano playing, Dussek seems also to have had a great influence on the young virtuoso. There are salient points of comparison between these sonatas, whether played solo on piano or with their optional violin part, and with the sonatas for the same forces written by Dussek and recently recorded for Brilliant Classics by Petra Somlai, Julia Huber, and Miriam Altmann.
Jadin’s music has never previously been documented in so comprehensive and stylish a manner as in this evolving series from Marek Toporowski, and the quartets receive their first recording in this arrangement, which will appeal to all collectors of Classical-era curios.