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Shostakovich: Symphonies No 2 & 15 / Petrenko, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic
Naxos · May 2012CD$19.99 -
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Dvorak: Cypresses - Song Cycle & String Quartet / Ullmann, Bruns
Haenssler Classic · Sep 2012CD$24.99 -
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SaleSchoenberg: Concerto For String Quartet After Handel, Book Of The Hanging Gardens / Craft, Lane, 20th Century Classics Ensemble
Naxos · Jan 2005CD$19.99$13.99 -
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Mahler: Symphony No. 7 / Petrenko, Bayerisches Staatsorchester
Bayerische Staatsoper Recording · May 2021CD$19.99 -
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Farrenc: Complete Piano Works, Vol. 2 - Themes & Variations, Part I / Maria Stratigou
Grand Piano · Aug 2023CD$19.99 -
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Hear My Prayer / Edison, Choir Of St John's, Elora
In previous reviews, I've praised this excellent choir from Elora, Ontario, and its performances here are first-rate as well. The choir especially shines in the Stanford and Duruflé, singing these oft-recorded motets as well or better than anyone on disc, with every detail of phrasing, breathing, and dynamic change perfectly worked out and executed. The same goes for the Howells, a work we don't hear often enough. We also can appreciate the ensemble's extraordinary discipline in the Purcell pieces, successfully managing the difficult transitions and sustaining the momentum through vocal writing that usually just seems disjointed and cumbersome.
Top billing on the program goes to the ever-popular Mendelssohn, and it's here that the performance falters--not because of the choir or its top-notch organist, Matthew Larkin, but due to soprano soloist Karina Gauvin, who I've admired on several other recordings but who seems shaky, unsure, and less than convincing in this admittedly tedious and difficult solo part. That aside, this is a very satisfying program that choral enthusiasts will embrace, especially when they hear such highlights as Eleanor Daley's refreshingly traditional In Remembrance (from her Requiem), the aforementioned Stanford and Duruflé, and the spectacular rendition of the Elgar, the best version on disc by far. The sound, from the choir's home venue, is full-bodied yet well-balanced, detailed and cleanly articulated. (I'm still hoping that Naxos will include track listings/timings in the CD booklet, not just on the back of the CD box.) [4/7/2006]
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
Shostakovich: Symphonies No 2 & 15 / Petrenko, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic
This latest instalment pairs symphonies from the opposite chronological ends of the composer’s symphonic output. Number 2 was written to mark the tenth anniversary of the 1917 Revolution. Perhaps ominously – in terms of potential for artistic merit – it was commissioned by the Propaganda Division of the State Music Publishers’ Section. Interestingly, Richard Whitehouse relates in his notes that, initially, the work was not designated as a symphony; Shostakovich only took that step, it seems, a couple of years later. The work is in one continuous movement and in the last six minutes or so an SATB chorus is introduced. Their task is to deliver the four-stanza poem by one Alexander Bezimensky (1898-1973). Richard Whitehouse describes him as an “’official’ proletarian poet” but if this is a fair example of his work the term “party hack” might be more appropriate. Clearly, Shostakovich had no say in the choice of text and, apparently, he didn’t think much of it.
Richard Whitehouse observes that the symphony was composed during the most overtly modernist phase of his career. One might suggest that the term “brutalist” might also fairly apply to this score. Naxos helpfully split the piece into three separate tracks and these are reflected in the liner-notes. Shostakovich can be a forbidding composer at times but in this score we find him at his most experimental and intractable. For a start there are virtually no melodic themes in it – the trumpet tune that appears a couple of minutes into the score is more or less the only melody, as Whitehouse points out. Given the absence of themes it’s perhaps unsurprising that I struggle to discern any sort of development in the conventional sense. For example, I find it hard to see what relation the first five or six minutes of the score (track 1) bear to the music that follows, except as an unrelated introduction, perhaps. The music that opens the second section (track 2) is reminiscent of parts of the First Symphony. As this section unfolds the music becomes ever more strident. After a solo violin passage the texture becomes increasingly complex but it’s hard to see what all the activity signifies. Hereabouts the playing of the RLPO is tremendously vigorous and earlier, when the music was stirring to life from very subdued beginnings, there was no little finesse to the playing. So far as I can tell the performance is also very precise.
It would be kind to describe the words of the concluding choral section as banal; the poem is unmitigated Revolutionary tosh! Shostakovich “rewards” the poet with choral writing of no great distinction; these final minutes are brash and boldly coloured but, to be honest, one feels it’s a case of sound and fury signifying nothing. It’s richly ironic that when Shostakovich produced the sort of music that the authorities expected he wrote such stuff as this but when he composed music that was not in keeping with official expectations – in the Sixth or Eighth Symphonies, for instance – he produced his finest work. Vasily Petrenko and his orchestra – and choir – do their best for the score and give a colourful and committed account of it but, really, this is base metal. I find it perplexing, to say the least, to trace Shostakovich’s development as a symphonist from the precocious First Symphony through to the magnificent, complex Fourth. Indeed, the Second and Third Symphonies don’t really seem to offer much in the way of a bridge between those two tremendous scores.
I find the Fifteenth Symphony just as perplexing but in a very different way. Just what was Shostakovich saying this late score? What was going on behind that impassive face and those slightly owlish thick spectacles? A troubled spirit, it would seem, but what was troubling him?
One of the great enigmas of this score lies in the use made of quotations. Shostakovich made use of self-quotation in his music but to the best of my knowledge it was rare for him to quote other composers. Yet here, in what turned out to be his last symphony, we find him quoting from two composers – and from two radically different composers at that – as well as from himself.
The first movement opens deceptively with perky material on flute and then bassoon. The opening pages are reminiscent of the Ninth Symphony it seems to me. Then, at 1:57 the trumpet plays a familiar motif from Rossini’s William Tell overture. The Rossini motif has been foreshadowed in the moments leading up to its first appearance – the first of several in the movement – but what is the meaning? I confess I’m far from sure except to note that the motif is of a piece with Shostakovich’s characteristic sardonic streak and that, though the fragment of tune stands out every time we hear it, it is well integrated into the composer’s own material. The music becomes increasingly urgent, alarmed and, indeed, strident in tone and the reappearances of the Rossini quote seem to act as a brake on proceedings and to bring the music back to a less stressful, more insouciant level. Throughout this movement, whatever the mood of the music, the playing of the RLPO is crisp and characterful.
The second movement takes us to an altogether deeper level – though in saying that I don’t wish to imply that the first movement is superficial; it’s not. The Adagio opens with a brass chorale, which recurs at intervals as the movement unfurls. I think it’s hugely significant that this chorale is taken from the opening movement, The Palace Square, of the Eleventh Symphony, a work that I still think has yet to receive its full recognition within the composer’s output. It will be remembered that the Eleventh commemorates the failed Russian Revolution of 1905. The chorale is followed by extended glacial passages in which cello and viola solos are prominent. Here we are in the world of the string quartets. This is spare, searching music that has the character of a threnody. Petrenko and his players are excellent in maintaining the tension in these sparsely scored paragraphs, a virtue I < admired in their traversal of the first movement of the Sixth Symphony. Eventually (at 6:50) we hear an idea on the flutes but it’s not until this is taken up at some length by a solo trombone that it becomes clear that this is a funeral march. Eventually (at 11:01) the march erupts almost out of nothing into a huge climax. When this is spent the chorale returns, firstly on hushed strings and then on the brass. Now, I think, having experienced the funeral march we perhaps understand the significance of the quotation form the Eleventh. Is it that Shostakovich had unfinished business with the failed revolutionaries of 1905? Is he saying in this movement that those revolutionaries were betrayed by the Stalinist excesses in the years that followed the successful revolution of 1917?
The third movement, which follows attacca, is extremely brief. Richard Whitehouse rightly draws attention to the “barbed humour”. This is real nose-thumbing, sneering music and it’s adroitly done by Petrenko’s orchestra which offers some suitably pungent playing. Unless my ears deceive me the horns make a reference to the old DSCH motif one last time in a Shostakovich symphony.
The finale brings us the quotations from a second composer: Wagner. Right at the start the low brass intone the ‘fate’ motif from Die Walküre, followed by the soft timpani tattoo from Siegfried’s Funeral Music in Götterdämmerung. A few moments later (at 1:07) there’s surely another Wagner reference. The violins have an extended melody and as a kind of upbeat to it they play the same three notes with which Tristan begins. It’s possible that this is a coincidence but I don’t think so. The melody itself is described by Richard Whitehouse as “graceful”. I know what he means but I’m not sure that description is the full story: it sounds to me to be a spectral kind of grace; as so often with Shostakovich ambiguity is everywhere. This long, winding violin theme serves as the impetus for much of the content of the succeeding paragraphs. After another appearance of the ‘fate’ motif (5:28) what is at first a ghostly passacaglia begins. The music grows in temperature and intensity until a substantial climax is reached (10:08). This is another – and the last – of Shostakovich’s trademark towering symphonic climaxes and in it I hear definite echoes – grim ones – of the Leningrad Symphony. After the climax has subsided the music becomes wan and lean again; here the playing of the RLPO is once again most effective. The ending is enigmatic; the soft, tintinnabulating percussion over soft string chords recalls the conclusion of the Fourth Symphony, albeit the passage is longer this time. With a soft bell chime Shostakovich writes finis to his canon of symphonies.
The Fifteenth is a difficult symphony, not because its language is difficult in the way that the language of the Second is gratuitously difficult. It’s difficult because it’s so hard to grasp what are the composer’s intentions. I bought Maxim Shostakovich’s 1972 première recording when it came out – I still have the LP – and yet, even after all these years I’m not confident that I fully comprehend this elusive piece. I am sure, however, that it’s a fine and expressive composition and it’s the work of a mature and highly experienced symphonist whereas the Second is the work of a young, iconoclastic innovator. I don’t believe that earlier piece is genuinely symphonic in the sense of including any conventional development of ideas.
I doubt I shall listen often to the Second, though I’m sure that Vasily Petrenko and his choir and orchestra serve it well. I’m certain, however, that I shall return to this performance of the Fifteenth which strikes me as being excellent both in terms of the interpretation and the execution. The Naxos sound is very good: it reports the massive climaxes very well but conveys equally successfully the many quiet passages, both at the start of the Second and during the Fifteenth. As usual, Richard Whitehouse’s notes are very good at outlining the background to the works and at describing each score. However, it’s slightly disappointing that he doesn’t attempt any real discussion of the quotations in the Fifteenth beyond saying that they’re present.
This is another fine instalment in this important Shostakovich symphony cycle and I hope we won’t have to wait too long for the next release.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
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One of the nice things about Vasily Petrenko’s ongoing Shostakovich cycle, now well past its halfway point, is that it is making me reevaluate symphonies I did not think so highly of previously. The conductor’s recent recording of the Third Symphony (with the First, on Naxos 8.572396) inspired me to comment, “Petrenko’s reading is so full of good humor—and perhaps a little sarcasm—that I found myself enjoying this symphony more than usual.” Well, the Second is, for the most part, just as good, aided and abetted by some really fun playing from the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, and exciting sound from Naxos’s engineering team. The opening pages, an extended bass drum roll, quietly played, and soon overlaid by what Shostakovich called “ultrapolyphony” (27 simultaneously played voices) create a strikingly Ivesian effect. Now, Ives was ahead of his time, and so was the young Shostakovich, who anticipated several of the 20th century’s later musical developments in this symphony. Petrenko pulls it off with impudence, and the factory whistle that introduces the chorus has never been more visceral in its impact. (Shostakovich advised that, in the absence of a factory whistle, a chord for horns and trombones could be used instead. I am not sure what is being used here—it sounds like a jet engine, actually—but it is most impressive.) The chorus is almost as idiomatic as it was in the Third Symphony, and if the singers sound a little hoarse, I can forgive them. (Shostakovich shows neither the orchestra nor the chorus much mercy in this symphony.) Perhaps that’s what singing about Lenin and communes does to one.
Few people doubt the importance of the 15th Symphony. In fact, in bolstering its stature, and its place as the terminal symphony in Shostakovich’s canon, conductors have a tendency to make it seem more funereal than perhaps is necessary. Petrenko’s reading takes 48: 35, which really is quite slow, but this is one of those times when the subjective tempos seem faster. I think this is because Petrenko plays up the chamber music-like textures that dominate this work; slow is not the same as heavy, after all. Also, he is almost maliciously funny in the first movement, and in the third. Yes, the humor is of the black variety, but Petrenko applies it delicately, and as a consequence, there is more subtlety and nuance here than one expects even in this symphony. There are many examples of particularly fine solo playing from several members of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, too. Surely, this is one of the best versions of the 15th Symphony currently available—right up there with one of Kondrashin’s recordings, or (for something much richer) Ormandy’s. Petrenko’s Second easily eclipses Morton Gould’s and Bernard Haitink’s (to name two of the most famous alternatives). For the Shostakovich fan, there’s every reason to get this newest release from Petrenko, and no good reason not to. Have at it.
FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle
Ea Fantasia
The Music Of Ursula Mamlok, Vol. 3
MAMLOK 5 Capriccios 3,6. Stray Birds. 1,2,11 Fantasy-Variations. 12 Panta Rhei. 7,9,10 5 Bagatelles. 4,8,10 String Quartet No. 2 13. Confluences. 4,7,8,10 Kontraste 3,5 • 1 Phyllis Bryn-Julson (sop); 2 Harvey Sollberger (fl); 3 Heinz Holliger (ob); 4 Helge Harding (cl); 5 Urusla Holliger (hp); 6 Anton Kernjak, 7 Heather O’Donnell (pn); 8 Kirsten Harms, 9 Susanne Zapf (vn); 10 Cosima Gerhardt, 11 Fred Sherry, 12 Jakob Spahn (vc); 13 Sonar Qrt • BRIDGE 9360 (72:45 Text and Translation)
This is the third disc from Bridge devoted to the music of Ursula Mamlok; I reviewed the second in Fanfare 34:6. Like its predecessor, it offers an attractive and varied conspectus of the music of this impressive composer. Again the works cover a wide span of time, here from Stray Birds (1963, written when the composer was 40) to Kontraste (2010). It is gratifying to hear no falling-off of quality; indeed, the consistently high level of inspiration and technique is a hallmark of this disc (if I may be so presumptuous). Also again, we have many multimovement works, here totalling 33 tracks. Most of the movements are short (less than two minutes) and this concision can be hard to take in at first.
It is interesting that seven of the eight works here contain one movement that is far longer than any of the others in the work. In the case of the Five Capriccios for oboe and piano (1968) that open the disc, the final movement, even though it is barely four minutes, is still longer than the other four combined. Curiously, there is no sense in which the structure of any of the works on this disc feels unbalanced, nor does one feel that the shorter movements are breathless, or cut short. Mamlok judges the structures perfectly. In the first of the capriccios, one may think the trick is going to be a limited amount of thematic material in each movement, but the second and fourth capriccios are impassioned and intense with diving and swooping melodic lines. All four create powerful little statements (really, with Mamlok’s music every note has an active, individual purpose) that are then elegantly and coolly meditated upon in the relatively extended finale. In this work each movement is merely given a metronome marking; in later works Mamlok was given to somewhat poetic names for these longer movements. They are typically marked “Still, with utmost simplicity,” “Still, as if suspended,” though there are also a Larghetto , a Molto tranquillo , and so on. It is as if the brisk movements collect the necessary ingredients to enable the slow movement, usually at or toward the end of the work, to happen.
The Five Bagatelles for clarinet, violin, and cello (1988) shows Mamlok’s style becoming somewhat more diatonic. At the same time, every note seems carefully chosen and weighed; the music is written with care and precision, so that even as simple an idea as the insistent oscillating minor third that runs through and characterizes the second movement appears fresh yet inevitable. The odd-numbered pieces are especially good at capturing gaiety and humor while the long penultimate bagatelle, poignant and drawn out, is a satisfying contrast. In the Second String Quartet, from 1998, one can hear Mamlok’s style has subtly shifted again. If in the earlier works discussed the instruments were sharply characterized individuals, always playing against each other—against in the sense of differentiated from, not in an antagonistic way—in the quartet there is, in addition, more concerted music (in the first movement, for example) and even (in the second) momentary deference of an instrument to the others by adopting an accompanying role (I’m thinking of the slow pizzicatos). And, in the third and last movement, real drama and tension, with some sharp shifts of tempo and mood, all in an event-packed four minutes. I think “concision” is probably an unhelpful word for a lot of Mamlok’s music; “compression” would be better. And if I pass over the remaining works on the disc, it is only through lack of space.
The string quartet receives a fine, committed performance from the Sonar Quartet, three of whose members—Kirsten Harms, Susanne Zapf, and Cosima Gerhardt—play in three other works on the discs. Apart from the two Holliger pieces and Stray Birds , the recordings here are a coproduction with German Radio Köln, and they are as fine and meticulous as are the performances and the music itself. The Holliger performances, which open and close the disc, and which are a little cooler in presentation, come from Zürich. Stray Birds is a reissue of a recording previously on CRI. Bridge has done the composer proud. I found it a long disc to review—not, I hasten to add, because I disliked the music, but because it demands and deserves the same attention from the listener that the composer evidently gave it. One didn’t really want to listen to this CD all the way through, preferring to savor a couple of pieces at a time. And, it’s true, I found I needed time to get into the music. But it richly repays the effort and I certainly feel my somewhat neutral response to the earlier disc must be reviewed. This is clearly music that should be heard, which will appeal to the heart as much as the head, and which will enrich as well as entertain.
FANFARE: Jeremy Marchant
Bernstein, Gershwin & Copland / Judd, NOI Philharmonic
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REVIEW:
Songfest is in many ways a portrait of its composer in that the music is multi-faceted and ranges from the simple and lyrical to the flamboyant. Not every movement works as well for me on a level of subjective taste—I’m not a big fan of the tenor solo, ‘Zizi’s Lament’, for instance—but overall, the work is entertaining and full of life. The present performance is excellent with six fine singers expertly partnered by James Judd and his outstanding orchestra.
This new recording of An American in Paris has a particular allure in that it uses the new (2019) critical edition. The edition has been prepared by Mark Clague, the Editor-in-Chief of the George and Ira Gershwin Critical Edition. In an absorbing note in the booklet, he explains that there are two significant differences between this score and the version to which we’re accustomed. One concerns the use of saxophones. Gershwin specified no less than eight different saxes in his original orchestration, including a trio of soprano saxes. Unfortunately, well-meaning editorial work in the 1940s reduced the eight saxes to three—and even these were designated as optional. Here, the full octet is restored and, boy, do they make a difference at times! (Try the episode beginning at 7:23, where they’re smooching in the background. Even better, listen to them in the exuberant passage from 11:39.) The other changes concern the famous taxi horns. Gershwin was, apparently, very specific as to the pitches of the horns but an editorial misunderstanding after the composer’s death meant that the horns were notated at incorrect pitches. Now we can hear what Gershwin intended.
Copland’s An Outdoor Overture acts as a filler; it receives an alert and entertaining performance.
I’ve encountered the work of the National Orchestral Institute Philharmonic on several previous Naxos CDs of American music. I’ve never been disappointed by their performances and this latest programme evidences the same professionalism, polish and commitment that I’ve heard before. James Judd guides them expertly through the music.
I enjoyed this disc very much. It’s especially recommendable for Songfest, not least because to the best of my knowledge it’s the only single-disc version currently available and it’s a work that is very well worth getting to know, especially in this fine performance.
– MusicWeb International
CLAP HANDS
The World According to George Antheil / Kopatchinskaja, Ahonen
George Antheil called himself a ‘Pianist-Futurist’. A lover of speed, cars and airplanes, the American composer settled in the Paris of the Années Folles, where he frequented Picasso shows and Stravinsky concerts, and composed works such as the Sonate sauvage and Jazz Sonata, which caused a scandal: during a concert in Budapest, he even brandished a pistol to restore silence in the hall . . . He hero-worshipped Beethoven, whose pieces he played in the first part of his recitals before moving onto his own music. In 1933, he returned to the United States, where he met John Cage and Morton Feldman. Patricia Kopatschinskaja and the young Finnish pianist Joonas Ahonen – whom The Times, following what the journalist described as ‘one of those concerts you remember for ever’, presented as the violinist’s ‘doppelgänger’! – pay tribute to the self-proclaimed ‘Bad Boy of Music’.
Critical acclaim from the New York Times:
"George Antheil (1900-59) was a technophilic, self-declared bad boy of music; regardless of whether that’s true, he didn’t please his way into the canon. Here, however, this American composer gets a tribute that places him in a lineage of innovators from Beethoven to the mid-20th century — traced by the daredevil violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja and an enthusiastic partner in the pianist Joonas Ahonen.
"...Antheil would perform his works alongside, say, something from a century earlier, and Kopatchinskaja and Ahonen do the same by programming Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 7 in C minor. It is a fiery and freely interpreted account reminiscent of Gidon Kremer and Martha Argerich’s fearless, unpredictable, at times unwieldy recordings from the 1990s.
"Like the Beethoven, the Antheil is in four movements, but it blends traditional form with a thoroughly modern sound that, in this reading, bustles at a breakneck pace with percussive and metallic timbres. Looking beyond Antheil’s generation, the album also includes pieces by Morton Feldman and a nocturne by John Cage, works that subtly recall the sonatas but also stand alone as studies in sound-making and extremity — of strength and softness, of overtone-rich expanses. Executed with discipline that borders on mechanical, they couldn’t be better suited to a world according to George." --The New York Times (Joshua Barone)
Mussorgsky: Pictures At An Exhibition; Liszt: Piano Concerto No 1
Mussorgsky’s Pictures were originally composed for the piano. In that form he created a spacious canvas necessitating something of a symphonic sound from the piano. This proved exquisitely demanding and only a few brave pianists, including Prokofiev, dared to scale its fearsome crags. Maurice Ravel, to whom we owe its renown, was paid 10,000 francs to orchestrate it for Serge Koussevitzky. But as one might look at and interpret a picture in many different ways so then different sonic paint brushes might offer alternative views and insights? Thus Leonard Slatkin’s notion to bring together an eclectic selection of arrangements, some quite outlandish, might seem fresh and appealing?
D. Wilson-Ochoa is the Nashville Symphony’s Principal Music Librarian and former horn player. His neat opening ‘Promenade’ [1] was arranged, using woodwinds, at first, then pizzicato strings. This walking bass/cello line leads into the orchestral build-up, to give the impression of the visitor arriving at the gallery with mounting excitement and anticipation of seeing its treasures. Sergey Gorchakov’s portrait of Gnomus [2] is simpler, more sober and menacing than Ravel’s; his colours darker. Walter Goehr’s ‘Promenade’ [3] is calmly introspective as the visitor passes thoughtfully on; it features sensitive use of solo strings, double woodwind and muted brass. Emile Naoumoff’s entrancing arrangement of Il vecchio castello [4] has, at its heart, a glistening piano solo with woodwinds and cellos sounding the lilting Italian Sicilienne – absolutely gorgeous. Van Keulen’s ‘Promenade’ [5] is a much grander walk while his Tuileries [6] is a perky arrangement full of childish mischief and high spirits. Wind and brass are delicately mixed - woodwinds supported by muted trombones and trumpet – to create an appealing pastel. Conductor/pianist Vladimir Ashkenazy makes an impact with four horns in unison. Low strings and heavy percussion are used to underline the heaviness of Bydlo his picture of the Polish cart on enormous wheels [7].
Carl Simpson’s ‘Promenade’ [8] is brief and straightforward but with an unexpected cheeky cheep anticipating – Ballet of the unhatched chicks [9]. Lucien Cailliet was a student of Vincent D’Indy, His arrangement exerts his imaginative faculties to the full, out Ravel-ing Ravel. He makes exuberant use of wood-block, rattle and a flutter-tonguing blast from the trumpet. Sir Henry Wood’s vision of the Two Jews … [10] markedly underlines the differences between the two: the rich one glowering and overwhelming and the cowering pauper. The next ‘Promenade’ [11] (and the one that Ravel left out) is by Lawrence Leonard. It’s grand too , in terms of its rich harmonies and orchestrations; carrying on the self-regarded magnificence - one might say - of the rich Jew. Leo Funtek’s picture of French women arguing around a market square in Limoges, Le marché [12] makes for a snappy riot of colour. Funtek surmounts its challenges of articulation through its brief 1:26 of presto writing. The Catacombae [13] of John Boyd, demonstrates his experience with wind, brass and percussion. It is a haunted subterranean vision and is more menacing than Ravel’s portrait. It leads seamlessly into Ravel’s own arrangement of Con mortuis in lingua mortua [14]. As David Nice says, “the French master’s subtle halos and shadows remain uniquely evocative.’ That wonderful orchestrator, Leopold Stokowski, adds his characteristically vivid colouring to The hut on fowl’s legs (Baba-Yaga) [15]. This is a satanic portrait using four trumpets and eight horns supported by shrill whistling upper woods, to evoke Baba-Yaga’s terror-filling flight.
The concluding The Bogatyr Gate at Kiev [16] is the most substantial picture. Douglas Gamley paints this massive gate in resplendent colours using to fine effect the chorus of the Nashville Symphony and an organ. What magnificence - magnificence to rival 1812!
Liszt’s first surviving piano concerto was sketched out in 1832, when the composer was 21. It was only orchestrated 17 years later, with the help of the young composer Joachim Raff. Its first performance in 1853 at Weimar was conducted by Berlioz. Revisions followed in 1857. Its three movements are cyclically connected. This striking live recording of Peng Peng’s articulate and polished reading is sturdy in the portentous episodes and sensitively shaded in the quieter and more introspective passages. Slatkin gives sterling support.
Rob Mathes’s arrangement of The Star Spangled Banner was commissioned by the National Symphony Orchestra under its conductor Leonard Slatkin. It was conceived as a eulogy on the tragedy of 9/11. This performance - part grandiloquent, part restrained - is affecting.
Instead of the familiar Ravel orchestrations of Mussorgsky’s Pictures here is an eclectic collection of alternatives, always colourful and often arresting.
-- Ian Lace, MusicWeb International
Dvorak: Cypresses - Song Cycle & String Quartet / Ullmann, Bruns
DVORÁK Cypresses: 18 Songs for Voices and Piano (original version, 1865 1 ). Cypresses: 12 Songs for String Quartet (from original version, arr. Dvorák 2 ). Cypresses: 6 Songs for String Quartet (from original version, arr. Hans-Peter Dott 2 ) • 1 Marcus Ullmann (ten); 1 Martin Bruns (bar); 1 Andreas Frese (pn); 2 Bennewitz Qrt • HÄNSSLER 98641 (2 CDs: 81:05 Text and Translation)
Let me begin with just one swipe at Hänssler Classic, a label whose marketing practices I’ve questioned before. This entire program could fit onto a single CD. Discs of over 80 minutes, once rare, are now fairly common. A saving grace, however, is that as of now, mid-October 2012, ArkivMusic is selling the two-disc set for $26.99, which places it in the mid-price category on a per-disc basis. Hänssler is to be commended, however, for coming up with the idea of presenting Dvorák’s Cypresses complete in its original scoring as a song cycle for voices and piano, plus in its partial arrangement of 12 of the 18 songs for string quartet by the composer himself, and, in addition, in arrangements of the remaining six songs for string quartet by German composer Hans-Peter Dott (b. 1952). If anyone has done this before, it’s not reflected in any of the current listings I found. In fact, Dvorak’s string quartet arrangements far outnumber recordings of the song cycle.
Details of the song cycle’s path from composition to publication still remain a bit sketchy and open to some dispute. This much is known: Dvorák set the songs down on paper in 17 days between the 10th and 27th of July 1865. The 24-year-old composer was lovesick over one of his young pupils who didn’t share his feelings. So, like Mozart, Dvorák ended up settling for the girl’s younger sister, whom he eventually married. It’s hardly surprising then that the texts of the songs, taken from Cypresses: A Collection of Lyric and Epic Poems by Gustav Pfleger-Moravský, tell of unrequited love. Also generally agreed upon is that Dvorák intended eight of the songs—Nos. 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 13, 14, and 15—to be sung by a tenor, while the remaining 10 songs—Nos. 3, 4, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 16, 17, and 18—were intended to be taken by a baritone, which is the way they’re divvied up on the disc.
But here’s where things get a bit dicey. It took Dvorák another 23 years, during which he arranged, rearranged, and otherwise tinkered with the songs, before he sent them to Simrock for publication in 1888 with the title, not Cypresses , but Love Songs , to which the opus number 83 was assigned. Yet a 2012 program note from the Chamber Music Society of Williamsburg unequivocally states that “Dvorák chose never to publish the songs in their original form, but material from several of the songs cropped up in his first two symphonies and in his operas and other vocal works.” Clearly, the songs were published in 1888, but I’m guessing that the discrepancy hinges on the words “in their original form,” for according to the imslp.org catalog of Dvorák’s complete works, the songs that were actually published were all third and fourth revisions of the originals. Meanwhile, a year earlier the composer selected 12 of the songs—Nos. 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 14, 16, 17, and 18— and began reworking them for string quartet, keeping close to the original models. He made only some minor rhythmic adjustments, and only in one case did he change the key. He did, however, reorder the pieces in a different sequence from the original song cycle—6, 3, 2, 8, 12, 7, 9, 14, 4, 16, 17, 18—and titled his collection of quartet arrangements Echo of Songs . These were not published, however, until 1921, 17 years after Dvorák’s death.
This brings up another misunderstanding that has been perpetuated regarding Dvorák’s titling of both the published song cycle and the string quartet arrangements that remained unpublished in his lifetime. All Music Guide states that it was the composer himself who named the song cycle Cypresses , but as noted above, he didn’t. He titled it Love Songs . And as for the composer’s quartet arrangements of 12 of the songs, he called them, again as noted above, Echo of Songs . The only Cypresses Dvorák was familiar with, other than the trees, was the collection of poems so titled by Pfleger-Moravský. The Cypresses title was conferred upon the string quartet arrangements—and then only retroactively and by association with the songs—by the publisher of the string quartet cycle, Hudební matice umrlecké besedy, and/or the cycle’s editor, composer Josef Suk. Hans-Peter Dott surmises there are reasons Dvorák omitted the six songs—1, 5, 10, 11, 13, and 15—from his own quartet arrangements, but Dott doesn’t tells us what those reasons might have been. Instead, he decided to arrange them himself anyway, and they’re included as the last six tracks on disc 2, after Dvorák’s 12.
So, there you have it: the complete song cycle, published in 1888 as Love Songs , Dvorák’s own string quartet arrangements he titled Echo of Song , published in 1921, and a recent arrangement by Dott of the remaining six songs—all on a two-disc set boldly titled “Cypresses,” with a stand of cypress trees pictured on the cover, a title Dvorák never gave to any of these pieces. I’m not sure he’d be amused. For millennia, the cypress tree has been associated with death and mourning—which is why it’s often found planted around cemeteries—not with the pain of rejected love, the subject of these songs. The music can be quite lovely, if a bit overly sentimental, but the singers and players exercise care not to succumb to some of its more self-pitying moments. While tenor Marcus Ullmann and baritone Martin Bruns deliver their respective songs with warmth of feeling and a good measure of tonal bloom, their voices are of a similarity of timbre and character that sometimes makes it difficult to distinguish which singer is performing which song without referring to the designated numbers in the notes.
When it comes to the string quartet arrangements, at least of the 12 made by the composer, there’s a good deal more in the way of competition, among which is a very fine reading by the Emerson Quartet. But not being familiar with every recording of the quartet versions listed, I can’t say whether any ensemble has previously included the additional six arrangements made by Dott, and Hänssler’s album note is not forthcoming on when Dott made them. If it was very recently, perhaps even for the Bennewitz Quartet and this recording, then this could be a first.
Neither the songs nor the quartet arrangements of them represent Dvorák at his best. One might even say that musically they are Dvorák before he blossomed into the Dvorák we know and love. All of the pieces are of sameness in tempo and mood, without much in the way of Dvorák’s later melodic inspiration or harmonic inventiveness to make any one of them particularly memorable. For that, of course, the singers and players are not to blame. So, recommended on the grounds that this may be the most complete recording of Dvorák’s “cypress”-based compositions collected together in a single set.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Schoenberg: Concerto For String Quartet After Handel, Book Of The Hanging Gardens / Craft, Lane, 20th Century Classics Ensemble
The performance of Das Buch der Hängenden Gärten is notable for lovely, accurate singing by Jennifer Lane and sensitive, fluent support by pianist Christopher Oldfather. Lane produces a more beautiful tone, with more consistency between registers, than the major rival performance by Jan DeGaetani and pianist Gilbert Kalish on Nonesuch. But DeGaetani exploits register differences to create a wider range of effect and knows when some vocal harshness is called for. Lane may excel in presenting the love music's lyricism, but DeGaetani makes the loss and anguish more keenly felt. Although my reference here remains DeGaetani/Kalish, Lane's rendition is still excellent, and I dare say that some listeners will prefer hers because of its sheer vocal beauty.
The Piano Suite Op. 25 occupies a pivotal spot in music history as Schoenberg's first completely 12-tone work. Again the top contender is a classic Nonesuch CD, this time played by Paul Jacobs, who projects more angst. Oldfather presents a clarified, even witty approach that makes this music sound less "difficult" than usual while demonstrating that Schoenberg used neo-classical form and texture to support his radical melodic/harmonic technique. Since the Nonesuch disc's sound is a little fuzzy by today's standards, it's an easy nod for the new disc.
Lied der Waldtaube is a song from Schoenberg's Gurre-Lieder. Schoenberg stripped the original lush full-orchestral accompaniment down to a 15-piece ensemble to create the arrangement recorded here. Jennifer Lane returns as soloist, again displaying her creamy mezzo-soprano in particularly sensitive singing. This is definitely worth hearing--and acquiring as an alternative. In the end though, fans of this music will want the late-Romantic original orchestration for its stronger emotional punch.
Schoenberg, who was not a particular fan of Handel, felt free to mess around with the Baroque master's Concerto Grosso Op. 6 No. 7. Often altering Handel's harmonization, and with downright loopy "wrong" notes scattered around the score, this strange piece is Schoenberg's funniest composition. Robert Craft, a friend of Schoenberg's in his later days and a pioneer in conducting the composer's music in America, leads the Fred Sherry String Quartet (formed for the occasion of this recording) and the Twentieth Century Classics Ensemble in a recording of this piece that's unprecedented in clarity and wit, with full-bodied sound to match. The disc concludes with a rather charming 1949 interview of Schoenberg by American composer Halsey Stevens.
--Joseph Stevenson, ClassicsToday.com
I AM THREE
HERE COMES THE WHISTLEMAN
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
STARDUST
Noel / Angele Dubeau, La Pieta
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Silent night! Holy night! Hearing just a few notes of this eternal carol is enough to envelop us in a sweet tranquility and inner peace that goes well beyond the meaning of the words written by Joseph Mohr and music famous song by Franz Xaver Gruber. Jumbled memories arise of snow-covered countryside, crackling fires, delicious aromas filling the house, the joyful shouts of excited children unwrapping presents. Has Christmas turned into mere nostalgia, or can we rediscover the true meaning of this celebration? Angèle Dubeau thinks we can and, through both popular songs and carols works associated with the Nativity, she offers here a voyage through a world with diverse origins and traditions. This musical tour and celebration of the Nativity will take you to Finland, Italy, France, Germany, Austria, the United Kingdom, Russia, and, closer to home, Mexico and Canada, with the Huron Carol.
God Jul!
In Scandinavia, Christmas celebrations begin on December 13, the feast day of Saint Lucy, when a young girl is chosen in each village to represent her. Clothed in white and a crown of candles, she goes from house to house—along with a retinue of girls in white dresses and boys with pointy, star-spangled hats—bringing light, the symbol of life and renewal, for the coming year. In Finland, the official festivities begin with a declaration of “Christmas Peace” broadcast live on December 24 from Turku Cathedral. A few moments later, Christmas bells ring out across the country, as conveyed by Joulun Kellot (“Christmas Bells”), an interpretation written by Armas Toivo Valdemar Maasalo. Juleniss, the Finnish equivalent of Santa Claus, rewards good children during the night that follows; one wonders if he is tempted to hum the song Julvisa (“Christmas Song”, subtitled Give me no Splendour, Gold or Pomp), written by a young Jean Sibelius.
Buon Natale!
While Christmas in Italy might first bring to mind panettone, a Christmas sweet bread invented in Milan around 1490 that is served stuffed with cream, topped with a sauce or covered in chocolate, the country is above all the cradle of the Nativity scene. Indeed, Francis of Assisi created one of the first “living” nativity scenes in 1223, with villagers playing various character roles. Whether miniature or almost life size, these reproductions of the manger scene quickly became a tradition, with Italian families setting them up nine days before Christ’s birthday. It is not surprising, then, that two of Italy’s most well-known Baroque composers, Antonio Vivaldi and Guiseppe Torelli, dedicated idyllic concertos to “the holy birth.”
Joyeux Noël!
In France, cantiques de Noël remain the most important part of popular celebrations of the Nativity. By the 16th century, numerous versions of these carols existed in a variety of regional dialects, and they were distributed by door-to-door salesmen who also carried “Christmas Bibles” and engraved prints (often with a carol on the back). Here, Angèle Dubeau performs Noël nouvelet, Laissez paître vos bêtes and La Vierge à la crèche, set to a text by Alphonse Daudet.
Fröhliche Weihnachten!
In Germany, Christmas is Weihnachten (holy nights), and this is where the tradition of the Christmas tree originates. Legend has it that Saint Boniface (ca. 680–754) used the triangular shape of the evergreen tree to explain the concept of the Trinity to the pagans. The first mention of the modern Christmas tree dates back to 1521 in the Alsatian town of Sélestat. Even before this, however, the Christmas mystery plays performed in church squares frequently made use of trees decorated with fruit, offerings, decorations and candles (the candle tradition being attributed to Martin Luther). Two centuries later, Johann Melchior Molter wrote a delicate concerto grosso, inspired by the scene of the adoration of the shepherds.
¡Féliz Navidad!
In central America, Mexicans celebrate Las Posadas (the inns) which, starting December 16, commemorates Joseph and Mary’s search for lodging. As night falls, a procession sets off, led by children carrying a small decorated platform bearing statues of Joseph and Mary, who is riding a donkey. As the procession of villagers winds through the streets singing litanies, they knock at various doors along the route. Each time they are turned away with the cruel words “There is no room,” until the procession arrives at the appointed house or church. Then, the doors are flung wide in the open spirit of Christmas and the celebration begins, concluding with the breaking of a piñata, refreshments and dancing. The lullaby performed here, entitled “Sleep, Holy Infant”, comes from Dave Brubeck’s Christmas cantata, “La Fiesta de la Posada”, written to a text by his wife, Iola Brubeck and arranged by Russell Gloyd especially for Angèle Dubeau. Upon hearing the recording, Mr. Brubeck’s reaction was: “This is fantastic. She is playing from her heart.”
Hristos Razdajetsja!
Orthodox Russians have always liked to transform religious events into celebrations, hence the string quartet Jour de Fête by Alexander Glazunov, which evokes the festivities held on the night of January 6 to 7, Christ’s birthday on the Julian calendar. After the church service, everyone sits down to “Holy Supper,” which cannot be started until the first star appears in the sky, an homage to the star that guided the Magi. After the feast, tradition dictates that a plate of braided bread called kalach is left on the table between two candles, in honour of deceased members of the family. Angèle Dubeau offers here one of the rare recordings of this work.
Merry Christmas!
Christmas is celebrated enthusiastically in the United Kingdom. Houses are decorated with bright lights, children sing Christmas carols (such as “Holy Boy” by John Ireland) in the street, collecting spare change for the poor, and Christmas pudding is the traditional post-Christmas-dinner dessert. Another important tradition began here: the sending of Christmas cards, a custom that began in the 15th century and expanded significantly in the 18th century with the development of lithography.
Jesous Ahatonhia
The Huron carol Jesous Ahatonhia (Jesus is born) was written by the Jesuit Jean de Brébeuf in 1641. Hoping to better convey the meaning of Christmas, the priest adapted the text to the reality of the First Nations people. Hence, Jesus is wrapped in rabbit skins, he sleeps in a bark lodge, the adoring shepherds are replaced with hunters, and three Indian chiefs take the place of the Magi. Canadian composer Kelly-Marie Murphy based her work Huron Carol Interlude on the carol. The interlude of the title refers to the third movement of her string quintet Dance Me Through the Panic, from which she borrowed shimmering colours and a sense of melancholy, imbuing the carol melody with a very particular mood and evoking, in her own words, an “imagery of ice, snow, solitude and prayer.” When she heard this Angèle Dubeau’s rendition of her work, the composer wrote: “This is a wonderfully performed and produced interpretation of Huron Carol Interlude. There is a rich, full sound, with a perfect sense of pacing and colour. It expresses my ideas beautifully. Heartfelt thanks and congratulations to Angèle Dubeau!”
© Lucie Renaud
Translation: Peter Christensen
Prima Voce - Boris Christoff
CD 1 [70:19] Italian Opera
Wolfgang Amadeus MOZART (1756 – 1791)
Don Giovanni
1. Madamina! Il catalogo e questo [5:35]
Antonio CALDARA (1670 – 1736)
2. Come raggio di sol [3:12]
Vincenzo BELLINI (1801 – 1835)
Norma
3. Ite sul colle [10:13]
La sonnambula
4. Il mulino! Il fonte! … Vi ravviso [5:00]
Giuseppe VERDI (1813 – 1901)
Nabucco
5. Sperate, o figli! … D’Egitto la sui lidi [4:58]
6. Oh chi piange? … Del futuro nel bujo discerno [4:47]
La forza del destino
7. Il santo nome di Dio [6:54]
Simon Boccanegra
8. A te l’estremo addio … Il lacerate spirito [5:53]
Ernani
9. Che mai veggio! … Infelice … L’offeso onor [6:50]
Don Carlo
10. Ella giammai m’amo … Dormiro sol [9:14]
Arrigo BOITO (1847 – 1918)
Mefistofele
11. Ave Signor! [3:55]
12. Son lo spirito che nega [3:48]
CD 2 [71:56]
Russian Opera
Modest MUSSORGSKY (1839 – 1881)
Boris Godunov
1. Prologue: Coronation Scene [10:53]
2. Act 1. Pimen’s monologue [5:52]
3. Act 1. Varlaam’s song [2:33]
4. Act 2. Boris’s monologue [6:05]
5. Act 2. Clock scene [3:58]
6. Act 4. Farewell and Death of Boris [11:46]
Khovanshchina
7. Dosifey’s aria [6:22]
Nikolai RIMSKY-KORSAKOV (1844 – 1908)
Sadko
8. Song of the Viking Merchant [3:46]
The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh
9. O vain illusion [4:27]
Pyotr TCHAIKOVSKY (1840 – 1893)
Eugene Onegin
10. Everyone knows love on earth [4:55]
Alexander BORODIN (1833 – 1887)
Prince Igor
11. Prince Galitsky’s aria [3:52]
12. Konchak’s aria [7:23]
CD 3 [72:25]
Russian Songs and Sacred Music
Alexander SEROV (1820 – 1871)
1. Shrove Tuesday [4:39]
Traditional Songs
2. Song of the lumberjacks [5:00]
3. The Bandore [3:29]
4. Down Peterskaya Street [2:13]
5. Going down the Volga [3:40]
6. The lonely autumn night [5:22]
7. Psalm 137. By the waters of Babylon [5:25]
Mikhail STROKINE (1832 – 1887)
8. Prayer to St. Simeon [2:36]
Pavel CHESNOKOV (1877 – 1944)
9. Lord have mercy on our people [4:00]
Trad.
10. The song of the twelve robbers [5:56]
Alexander GRECHANINOV (1864 – 1956)
11. Litany [6:02]
Trad.
12. Siberian prisoner’s song [4:17]
Modest MUSSORGSKY
Songs and Dances of Death
13. No 4 Field-Marshal Death [4:55]
14. The Grave [3:44]
15. Softly the spirit flies up to heaven [3:15]
LISHKIN (? - ?)
16. She mocked [3:32]
Trad
17. Song of the Volga boatmen [4:20]
One of the greatest singing artists ever recorded.
Some later recordings of Boris Christoff, expressive and dramatically convincing though they invariably are, can be vocally rather gruff. On these early examples there is very little of that characteristic. The overriding impression is, on the contrary, of an uncommonly sonorous voice with brilliant top notes and a beautiful pianissimo that few other basses have ever been able to muster. Where he sometimes momentarily falters is in the lowest reaches of the voice. He has all the notes that are required but they can sometimes be weak and even slightly unsteady. What impresses most of all is his ability to go to the core of the music, whether it be an aria or a simple song. Like his contemporary baritone colleague – and brother-in-law – Tito Gobbi he was a unique singing-actor, and created a number of deeply penetrating portraits of some of the great bass roles.
The first disc in this volume is devoted to Italian opera. It gives a rare opportunity to hear him in a Mozart role. Considering his histrionic powers one would expect his Leporello to be callous and cynical. It isn’t. This is a man-servant with a heart of gold and his warm reading of the catalogue aria leads us to believe that he feels compassion for poor Elvira. Well, there is a hint of a mocking laughter near the end, but that’s all.
The Caldara aria, with Gerald Moore at the piano, is sung with restraint and honeyed tone. It is hard to believe that this finely honed reading comes from a man with such tremendous vocal resources.
The following six tracks are from a 1955 recital, recorded in Rome with the always responsive Vittorio Gui at the helm of the orchestra and chorus of the Rome Opera. The aria from Norma, preceded by almost 3½ minutes orchestral introduction, is monumental with the male chorus really on their toes. The Sonnambula aria has similarities to Chaliapin’s recording but is warmer, though maybe less elegant than Siepi’s. As Zaccaria in Nabucco he has authority and sings with unerring dramatic intensity. In Il santo nome from La forza del destino my favourite recording has always been Ezio Pinza’s from the late 1920s. Christoff’s reading may be deeper but Pinza’s noble tone still wins the day, if only by a hair’s breadth. Fiesco’s aria from Simon Boccanegra has the nobility that may be lacking in the Forza excerpt but his lowest notes are a bit sketchy.
The four remaining items on CD 1 are all from his earliest recording period, 1949 – 1951. The brilliance in the Ernani aria is truly glorious and there is ‘go’ in the cabaletta. Karajan and the Philharmonia provide ideally refined background for Filippo’s monologue from Don Carlo – a reading that few have surpassed. He recorded the opera complete twice – first in the mid-1950s in the four-act version and then in the early 1960s in the five-act version – both times with Gabriele Santini conducting. The later of them, on DG, was my introduction to this opera and Christoff’s Filippo is still the one that looms in my memory. However I have to admit nowadays that his reading then was a bit cruder than on the earlier one. Best of all, though, is the version with Karajan, on this disc – inward and deeply moving. The two arias from Mefistofele are vital and outgoing with virtuoso playing from the Philharmonia.
Filippo was one of Christoff’s signature roles, but he is even more strongly connected with the title role in Boris Godunov, which he also recorded twice. In fact he also sang both Pimen and Varlaam on both sets. On CD 2 we get some substantial excerpts from the first recording, conducted by Issay Dobrowen. It should be noted, though, that only tracks 1, 4 and 5 are from the complete set. Pimen’s and Varlaam’s solos as well as The Death of Boris were recorded separately a couple of years earlier. In each of the numbers he surpasses all the existing competition, possibly bar Chaliapin, whose Boris was of similar status. Both singers’ readings are necessary listening for anyone who wants to come to grips with this ill-fated Tsar. The depth of feeling and insight is almost unbearable. Masterly is the only word for it. He also makes the most of the other Russian arias. I learnt these – and also most of the Boris Godunov excerpts – through a DG recording with the great Finnish Bass Kim Borg in the mid-1960s, but good though he is – and I couldn’t resist a rehearing of some of them – he can’t quite challenge Christoff. The latter has more face. It should be said that a practically identical programme of Russian arias – these same recordings – was issued just about a year ago on EMI’s GROC label and readers who have already invested in that issue may hesitate about getting the present issue. The Italian programme is, to my knowledge, harder to come by separately and the Russian songs and sacred music on CD 3 is another asset. The first eleven were recorded with the admirable Feodor Potorzhinski Choir.
Many readers may have some favourite songs here and they are sensitively and beautifully sung with Christoff’s usual care for expression. Tracks 3 and 4 – The Bandore and Down Peterskaya Street are particular favourites with me, and the Song of the twelve robbers is another dear friend. Even better as an interpretation is the Siberian prisoner’s song; this is a performance with penetrating psychology, not just superb singing. This and the three Mussorgsky songs, all four recorded in 1951 with Gerald Moore at the piano, are among the greatest song interpretations ever set down. Strong words, no doubt, but I can’t really see any valid counter-arguments. Hans Hotter and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau were on the same exalted level but not necessarily better. The encore, Song of the Volga boatmen, is also masterly in the total control of dynamics.
To me Boris Christoff was unable to sing a dull tone. He is without doubt one of the greatest singing artists ever recorded. As always Nimbus also provide well researched biographical notes by Alan Bilgora. And the sound is as good as the original shellacs or early LPs allowed. Don’t miss this one!
-- Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International
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BORIS CHRISTOFF • Boris Christoff (bs); various assisting artists • NIMBUS 7961/3, mono (3 CDs: 214:40)
MOZART Don Giovanni: Madamina! Il catalogo e questo. CALDARA Come raggio di sol. BELLINI Norma: Ite sul colle, o Druidi. La sonnambula: Il mulino!…Vi ravviso. VERDI Nabucco: Sperate, o figli!…d’Egitto la sui lidi; Oh chi piange? … Del futuro. La forza del destino: Il santo nome di Dio. Simon Boccanegra: Il lacerato spirito. Ernani: Che mai veggio! … Infelice. Don Carlo: Ella giammai m’amo…Dormiro sol. BOITO Mefistofele: Ave Signor; Son lo spirito che nega. RIMSKY-KORSAKOV Sadko: Song of the Viking Merchant. Invisible City of Kitezh: O Vain Illusion. MUSSORGSKY Boris Godunov: Prologue, Coronation Scene; Pimen’s Monologue; In the Town of Kazan; I Have Attained the Highest Power; Clock Scene; Farewell and Death of Boris. Songs and Dances of Death: Field Marshal Death. Khovanschina: Dosifey’s Aria. The Grave. Softly the Spirit Flies up to Heaven. BORODIN Prince Igor: Prince Galitzky’s Aria. Khan Kontchak’s Aria. SEROV Shrove Tuesday. CHESNOKOV Lord, Have Mercy on Our People. GRETCHANINOV Litany. STROKINE Prayer to St. Simeon. LISHKIN She Mocked Me. FOLK SONGS Song of the Lumberjacks. The Bandore. Down the Petersky. Going Down the Volga. The Lonely Autumn Night. Psalm 137, “By the waters of Babylon.” Song of the 12 Robbers. Siberian Prisoner’s Song. Song of the Volga Boatmen
This stupendous collection of really top-drawer recordings, all made between 1949 and 1955, catches Boris Christoff in his magnificent early prime. This was the era in which he was first, and most often, compared to Feodor Chaliapin, and with good reason: In many of these scenes and arias, he lifted Chaliapin’s interpretations wholesale from the old records. Of course, if he hadn’t had a great dramatic instinct and hadn’t been such a riveting stage actor, the comparison might have faded away, and imitation certainly is the sincerest form of flattery.
Without going into each CD in too much detail, what I found interesting was that some of the little mannerisms that became his trademarks—particularly that little downward portamento on low notes at the ends of phrases—were far less noticeable in the 1949–50 recordings than later on. He was also less “snarly” during this period. By the time 1955 rolled around, it seemed as if everything he sang had an undercurrent of menace or a snarl in the voice, however magnificent the sound of his instrument, but the early recordings of Varlaam’s song from Boris Godunov and Leporello’s catalog aria from Don Giovanni have more lightness and humor about them. The 1950 version of King Philip’s “Dormiro sol” from Don Carlo is very slowly conducted by Herbert von Karajan, but Christoff, again, responds with a much subtler and less overbearing interpretation than he did on his 1952 recording of the complete opera with Stella, Filippeschi, and Gobbi (who was his brother-in-law, something I didn’t know).
Throughout his career, Christoff was as legendary for his arrogant and aloof treatment of colleagues as for his brilliant stage characterizations, but in the biographical notes it is mentioned that he was, even in his late 20s, a shy and often reluctant solo singer. It’s quite possible that in addition to the vocal training he received, his teacher Riccardo Stracciari also influenced his high-handedness by feeding his ego. There never seemed to be any real reason for his acting this way—every single one of his colleagues admired his talent and considered him one of the finest singing-actors of his time—but Christoff persisted in treating each and every one of them like crap. One might have thought that his developing a brain tumor in the late 1960s and having to fight his way back to sing again, which he did and gloriously so with no loss of tone or power, might have humbled him a little, but by all reports this was not so.
CD 3 contained the greatest surprise for me, an entire album with Russian choir and (on some numbers) a balalaika orchestra, similar in concept and layout (though with completely different songs) to Nicolai Gedda’s best-selling album of the early 1960s, Evening Bells. Again, Christoff is at his best here, including two more Chaliapin specialties, Down the Petersky and the Gretchaninov Litany. Perhaps the most surprising track of all, to me, is the arie antiche of Caldara, Come raggio di sol, sung with wonderful lightness to Gerald Moore’s typically splendid accompaniment. Since the death of Nimbus’s founder, Shura Gehrman, the label seems to be laying off a little on the swamp of echo-reverb it adds to older recordings. These tracks all have just enough reverb to make the performances sound lifelike and less two-dimensional than they did in their original release (on EMI). Despite the fact that the booklet fails to give the first names of any of the conductors, this set is highly recommended.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Mahler: Symphony No. 7 / Petrenko, Bayerisches Staatsorchester
Winner of a 2022 Gramophone Award for Best Orchestral Recording!
If one sought a musical manifestation of all the painful experiences and tragic failures of European history in the early 20th century, it would be impossible to overlook the symphonies of Gustav Mahler. Here, there is no harmony where discord is more fitting. Here, life cries out, with all the conflict and joy it proffers humanity. In their performances, Kirill Petrenko and the Bayerisches Staatsorchester have enabled these experiences to resonate in remarkable fashion. What better way to launch the Bayerische Staatsopers new label than with this outstanding live concert recording. (Nikolaus Bachler, General Manager, Bayerische Staatsoper) Kirill Petrenko, general music director of the Bayerische Staatsoper from 2013 until 2020, conducts Gustav Mahlers Symphony No. 7 a pinnacle of the symphonic repertoire in a dramatic interpretation. This is the first audio-recording with Kirill Petrenko as chief conductor of the Bayerisches Staatsorchester.
Balkan Project / Cavatina Duo
THE BALKAN PROJECT • Cavatina Duo • CEDILLE 90000117 (66:30)
Arrangements by MIROSLAV TADIC, CLARICE ASSAD, ALAN THOMAS , and others
There is an important trend in music that doesn’t yet seem to have a name. As interest in indigenous non-classical music from various cultures gathers steam, hybrids between these and classical music continue to draw scrutiny from audiences and performers, most famously Yo-Yo Ma and his Silk Road Ensemble. These influences can be traced back centuries, of course (i.e., Mozart’s interest in Turkish music is but one example), but the influence has gone far beyond the colorful additions of particular instruments or a specific regional tang added to an otherwise Western piece. Many of these styles are entering the very DNA of our music as a natural extension of globalization. The name Third Stream was coined a half century ago by Gunther Schuller to describe “a new genre of music located about halfway between jazz and classical music.” Any votes for Fourth Stream?
This terrific new disc of flute/guitar duos occupies one of the many possible points on the classical/folk continuum. Since it consists entirely of music of the Balkans, it also occupies a critical space on the East/West divide. In a nutshell, the music consists of arrangements of songs and dances from the region, commissioned by the Cavatina Duo, one of whom hails from the region (Bosnian guitarist Denis Azabagic) and one of whom doesn’t (Spanish flutist Eugenia Moliner). The notes don’t refer to the use of improvisation in any of the works, but there is a sense of spontaneity to many of the pieces that suggests that the original sources may have employed extemporaneous methods in part.
There is probably still a pervasive belief among many music lovers that “folk” denotes unwavering simplicity, a stereotype that should long ago have been dashed among those with even a cursory knowledge of this region. Some of these works exhibit a dizzying complexity of meter that would confound many a trained classical performer. Even traditional love songs can be found in odd meters, such as the endearing Macedonian song Eleno, Kerko Eleno , in 7/8 throughout. The signature augmented fourth interval so common in the Middle East can be heard in this disc as being a part of this region as well, the apt label for the scale being the “Balkan Minor.” The closest the collection comes to the inclusion of a suite is the Four Macedonian Pieces by Miroslav Tadic. The opening “Jovna Kumanovka” has beguiling melody in a lightly syncopated lilt, and the tune is tossed between the flute and different registers of the piano. The guitar line of “Padushko” sizzles, and the dance pushes ahead in an almost dizzying 5/8 meter.
The duo is unerringly captivating in this literature. Moliner has a rich, soulful tone that suits the music perfectly, and Azabagic has plenty of chops to negotiate the demands of this frequently virtuosic work. The natural audience for this disc would be flutists, guitarists, and students of the region, but it’s hard to imagine anyone not finding lots of pleasure here.
FANFARE: Michael Cameron
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In the notes for this excellent program, guitarist/composer Vojislav Ivanovic describes "the Balkans" as a dividing line between East and West, an exciting crossroad of civilizations" that incorporates many countries, from Macedonia and Greece to Bulgaria, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, Turkey, and Romania. And in their very felicitous partnership, Bosnian guitarist Denis Azabagic and flutist Eugenia Moliner (whose roots are Spanish) perform modern arrangements of songs and dances from these regions, many of which were commissioned by Cavatina Duo. There's a wide range of moods, melodies, and rhythms, and the original songs are exploited in many different ways by the nine or 10 composers who contributed to the project. There's the "impressionistic"-flavor of Ivanovic's setting of a traditional Bosnian song (tr 2), or the light-jazz feel to Matthew Dunne's arrangement of the Macedonian song "Eleno, Kerko, Eleno" (tr 3); "Kalajdzisko Oro" (tr 4) is a wild, swirling dance in 11/8, in a virtuosic setting by Clarice Assad. In fact, perhaps the most prominent feature of many of the selections is the complex rhythm--or often combinations of rhythms--that at once engage the listener and seriously challenge the players. One of the dances--Boris Gaquere's "Kopanitsa da Kalantchatska" from Bulgaria--even requires a nifty bit of "drumming" from the guitarist!
These fascinating rhythmic elements--often in irregular divisions of 7/8, 9/8, 5/8, or the aforementioned 11/8--are characteristic of much of this music, and it makes listening easy and fun as well as keeping the timbres of guitar and flute lively and interesting over the course of the disc's 66-plus minutes.
And whatever challenges the arrangers have presented prove no problem for Azabagic and Moliner; these are two phenomenal musicians whose collaborative timing and keen rhythmic sense allow each of the 16 songs and dances to truly sing and dance with delightful spirit and an ingratiating lack of inhibition.
For me, some selections seem a bit long for the material--the first two of Miroslav Tadic's Macedonian Pieces--or veer too close to the realm of what used to be called New Age--Alan Thomas' Croatian song "The Shepherd's Dream"; yet for many listeners this will be exactly the right thing, and Moliner and Azabagic leave little room for criticism of their artistic commitment or technical skill. Tadic's rousing dances--the last two of his Macedonian Pieces--especially the frighteningly tricky "Pajdushka" (in 5/8), along with the program's final piece, Clarice Assad's metrically boggling Bulgarian folk dance (including a section of 9/8+7/8+11/8), are bound to awake movements in your body as you listen that you didn't know you had! As is expected with Cedille, the sound, this time from a Chicago studio, is ideally suited to the music and to the timbres and balance requirements of the two instruments. Strongly recommended.
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
SCHATTENSPIELE
Farrenc: Complete Piano Works, Vol. 2 - Themes & Variations, Part I / Maria Stratigou
Louise Farrenc was acclaimed as a pianist and pedagogue, one of the few women to teach an instrument at the Paris Conservatoire in the 19th century, and was admired by Robert Schumann and others for her compositions. This second of six volumes dedicated to Farrenc’s complete works for piano focuses on her Theme and Variations sets.
Maria Stratigou’s recording of the Études (GP912-13) was considered ‘beguiling piano music’ in BBC Music Magazine, confirming once again that Farrenc has been unjustly neglected as a composer.
REVIEW:
Over 50 minutes here are world premier recordings—7 of the 9 tracks—all written in the 1820s. There are brilliant parts all through these, but they are more elegant and expressive than the run of the mill variations.
Stratigou is clearly well qualified to tackle Farrenc’s piano works. Her joy in this music is evident not only in her playing, but in her beautifully written booklet essay. She has a full mastery of Farrenc’s romantic style and a technique to match.
-- American Record Guide
CONCLAVE
Chopin: Mazurkas, Vol. 1
Nightconcert / Erroll Garner
Click here to view the Vinyl version.
Nightconcert (from the Dutch Nachtconcert) is a midnight jazz performance held at The Royal Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, one of the premiere concert halls in the world. Recorded on November 7, 1964, it features Garner with his classic trio (bassist Eddie Calhoun and drummer Kelly Martin) performing to a packed house of 2,000 enraptured fans. The audience witnessed a blistering set featuring the group’s unique take on classics from The Great American Songbook, as well as three originals by Garner: “Theme From A New Kind of Love (All Yours),” “No More Shadows” and a new composition titled “That Amsterdam Swing.”
Out of Africa and Around the World / Denis Azabagic
Multi-award winning guitarist Denis Azabagic invites listeners into a realm where world, folk, and classical music intersect on Out of Africa...and Around the Word, the Bosnia-born, Chicago-based virtuoso’s first solo album on Cedille Records. Thomas weaves together strands of African singing styles, scales and rhythms, while paying homage to African string instruments, such as the kora and the oud.
REVIEW:
Acclaimed guitarist Denis Azabagic’s newest CD, Out of Africa , features attractive works by some of today’s leading guitarist/composers. Bulgarian Atanas Ourkouzounov’s contribution is a captivating series of Variations on Pozaspa li iagodo? (Are you sleeping, Strawberry?). The rhythmically driven, harmonically inventive first variation comes as a startling surprise after the gentle simplicity of the opening statement. A slow, minor-tinged variation follows, with interspersed harmonics dotting the sustained soundscape. Variation three combines flowing figures with a recap of the first variation’s hectic pace, helped along by sharp accents and forceful dynamics. Next, a partly muted, subtly dissonant episode gives way to an invigorating half-Bulgarian, half-Greek Finale.
As revealed in the booklet notes, Vojislav Ivanovic’s Café Pieces were undertaken as a lark but, be that as it may, the results far surpass their frivolous beginnings: heard as a group they comprise a beautiful suite of music in the South American style, filled with lovely melodies, exciting rhythms, and humor. At one point, Tango Café (the third of the set) seems to quote the Russian/Gypsy song Ochi chyornye (Dark Eyes), but that may be coincidental: in all other respects, it’s a pitch perfect homage to Astor Piazzolla. The mildly melancholy Nostalgia , a tremolo study, offers guitarists an appealing alternative to Tarrega’s ubiquitous Recuerdos de la Alhambra.
Azabagic plays Carlos Rafael Rivera’s Canción more than a minute faster than various YouTube performances, but with no diminution in sentiment or liquidity of phrasing. For such a short piece—1:35 as played here—that’s a significant difference, almost twice as fast as the others.
REVIEW:
In his synopsis of his Blues and 7 Variations , Dusan Bogdanovi? explains that “The seeming incongruity of idioms and compositional styles” reflects his interest “in developing a widely based musical world.” That global perspective is immediately apparent in the 13-bar (instead of the traditional 12) Blues at the heart of the piece, cast in 9/8, a meter more common to the Balkans than the American South. Bogdanovi?’s self-described “virtuoso set of variations” calls for great speed, fluency, and panache, attributes Azabagic has in spades; I’m guessing that this stunning performance will prove a benchmark for years to come.
Alan Thomas conceived his suite Out of Africa as a series of impressions inspired by African “styles of singing … additive rhythms, irregular metric groupings, and pentatonic or pandiatonic scales.” Besides being subliminally linked in this way, the various movements together paint a musical portrait of idealized daily life. Call at Sunrise welcomes the dawn with a catchy tune “presented in canon that gradually develops into a vibrant ostinato and vocalic melody” (Thomas). A joyous Morning Dance follows, and as the sun attains its Zenith, the sound of the oud is heard in the land: Azabagic convincingly imitates the characteristic microtonal sound by playing on a detuned string. I don’t know if Thomas consulted the Arabic maqam system of modes as he composed the music, but either way it’s a compelling bit of orientalism. After a last festive Evening Dance , the tender (and tenderly played) Cradle Song brings the suite to a quiet close. All told, Azabagic’s idiomatic, technically flawless performances of this colorful repertoire should be required listening for guitar lovers everywhere.
FANFARE: Robert Schulslaper