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SaleCornelius: Der Barbier von Bagdad / Leitner, West German Radio Symphony
Profil · Sep 2008CD$24.99$12.49 -
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SaleErik Then-Bergh: The Complete Electrola & Deutsche Grammophon Recordings
APR · Jan 2017CD$21.99$16.99 -
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4 Cycles (The) – Where the Heart Is Pure / The Changing Light / 5 Love Motets / 3 Songs from Ish River
Naxos · Aug 2016CD$19.99 -
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Vivaldi: The Four Seasons & Other Concerti / Whelan, Chandler, La Serenissima
Avie Records · Sep 2015CD$19.99
ESSENCE VOL.1
Sauli: 6 Partitas and other works / Ferella
The mandolin reached prominence as a solo instrument in the 17th century when it began to appear in operas and oratorios, and in chamber and solo repertoire. Amongst the most prominent composers for the instrument were Niccolò Ceccherini and Pietro Cappellini, masters of polyphony. But it was Filippo Sauli’s Sei partite, composed for the four-course mandolin, that constitute a body of work unique in early 18th-century mandolin repertoire – a kaleidoscopic digest of different styles and influences that combine French and Italian traditions in music of exquisite taste and expressive beauty.
REVIEW:
The Six Partitas by Filippo Sauli, who flourished in the late 17th and early 18th centuries, are clearly the centerpiece of the program presented here. Most have short opening movements, usually preludes, some as short as 19 seconds! One can hear the standard suite movements in various orders, and the partitas often end with minuets. Notable is the short Prelude to the 4th partita, with crystalline arpeggiated chords that shimmer brightly.
Ferella’s playing is deft and musical, with clear articulation and a stylistic sense of each dance, not to mention excellent intonation and tone, and is recorded well with a realistic mandolin sound and reverberation.
All in all, this is very enjoyable.
— American Record Guide (Jim McCutcheon)
Chopin: The Complete Fantasies / Nones
“Alberto Nones executes Chopin’s music with restrained elegance and poise, avoiding the trappings of indulgent virtuosity or sentimentality. Instead, these performances demonstrate unencumbered fidelity to the composer’s directions; it is almost as if we can hear Chopin’s own breath between each line and phrase.” (George Richford)
Having previously recorded Chopin's Mazurkas, Alberto Nones here performs the Fantasy-Impromptu in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 66, the Fantasy in F Minor, Op. 49, and the Polonaise No. 7 in A-Flat Major, Op. 61, "Polonaise-fantaisie."
Nones, a pianist and philosopher/music historian, is Professor of Piano at the "E.R. Duni" Conservatory of Music in Matera, where he also teaches courses of History and Historiography of Music. He graduated summa cum laude in Piano from the "F.A. Bonporti" Conservatory of Music in Trento, where he studied with Antonella Costa, and specialized in Masterclasses and Academies with Masters like Paul Badura-Skoda and Franco Scala. He has won several piano competitions, among which a first prize at the "Coppa Pianisti d'Italia" in Osimo in 1996. Convinced though that music is art and culture, he also graduated in Philosophy magna cum laude from the University of Bologna, went on to study at the London School of Economics, where he earned his M.Sc. in Political Theory, and completed his education in the humanities with a Ph.D. in International Studies at the University of Trento.
Beethoven: Complete Piano Sonatas / Roberts
The arrival on the scene of a bright new talent in the Beethoven Piano Sonatas in the form of the young Korean pianist HJ Lim (EMI Classics 50999 7041855 2) has prompted me to return to the Nimbus set. The virtues of complete sets by the likes of Alfred Brendel (Philips 438 1342 – see June 2011/2 Download Roundup) and Wilhelm Kempff (DG – see below) are well enough known but, for some reason, we seem never to have got around to reviewing the Nimbus set with Bernard Roberts. Not the least of its virtues is that, with some ingenious organisation, the CD set is far less bulky than you might imagine: the 11 CDs come in two double-size cases, holding five discs plus booklet and six discs respectively, all housed inside a cardboard slip case.
I actually started to write a review of the complete Nimbus set a year ago, and lost what I’d written, apart from some notes and jottings, when my computer crashed. I was able to piece some of these together in time for the November 2011/2 Download Roundup, but fortunately, when I lost what I’d written, my friend Geoffrey Molyneux, who knows a great deal more about pianism than I ever did and has owned the Nimbus set for some time, came to the rescue. I promised then to patch my notes back together to finish that review but got around only partially to doing it.
Whereas Roberts’ recordings arose from mature consideration, HJ Lim has committed the whole œuvre to disc at an early stage in her career, whether from brave assurance or youthful bravado I was very interested to find out. You can do so for yourself from the Naxos Music Library if you have access to that extremely valuable service. They offer both the first two 2-CD single volumes and the complete set. As they also have the Roberts recordings, that’s a good way to compare for yourself.
Volume 1 from Lim contains Sonatas 29 Hammerklavier, 11, 26 Les Adieux, 4, 9, 10, 13 Quasi una fantasia and 14 Moonlight ( 730092, 2 CDs for around £12.50). The complete set (omitting the Op.49 sonatas because Beethoven didn’t intend them for publication) comes on 8 CDs for around £40 ( 4649522). Those willing to download can obtain Volume 1 for £6.99 from sainsburysentertainment.co.uk. They also have the complete 8-CD set to download for £10.99, though you may prefer to obtain this from amazon.co.uk for £12.99, complete with the pdf version of the booklet.
Lim opens both Volume 1 and the complete set with the Hammerklavier Sonata. She takes the first movement at a cracking pace – 10:24 against Roberts’ 11:42, making her performance commensurate with Earl Wild, at 10:20 one of the fastest ever accounts (Ivory Classics 76001). I was impressed by her technique; it makes a barnstorming opening to the set, but it’s all a bit too much unvaried and ‘hell-for-leather’; at his slightly slower tempo Roberts achieves much more light and shade in this movement and throughout the work, not least in his reading of the slow movement, where his 17:58 allows him to achieve Innigkeit without sounding portentous. At 12:50 Lim is certainly appassionato; she doesn’t sound as rushed as I might have expected from the different timings, but she doesn’t quite achieve the affective quality demanded by the marking con molto sentimento.
Artur Schnabel’s recording of this sonata may come on an album subtitled ‘Scholar of the Piano’ (EMI Icons 2650642) but there’s much more than scholarship involved in his performance. This remains my benchmark, especially for the slow movement: his tempo almost exactly matches that of Roberts, but he captures the affective qualities even more without ever sounding ponderous. His recording comes with a degree of light surface noise, but it’s never excessive and the piano tone is truly remarkable for its age. Nevertheless, Roberts offers a better-recorded modern alternative that I can certainly live with.
I should add that reviewers have been very much divided about Lim’s performances; some have seen a great deal more of value in them than I have. In the finale of the Hammerklavier I hear some of the qualities that her admirers postulate – she’s actually very little faster overall than Schnabel and her playing is certainly risoluto – but my own ultimate judgement hinges on whether I would wish to add her complete recording or Volume 1 to my over-crowded collection. I have to say that I wouldn’t, even at the attractive prices that I’ve mentioned.
On the other hand, I would certainly have considered purchasing the Roberts set, especially at the special price of £28 post free for which it’s offered by MusicWeb International. You won’t even find them as a download for less. I know that I’m effectively blowing our own trumpet, but I dipped into sonatas from every period of Beethoven’s working life, comparing what I heard with other versions that I knew, and found that Roberts stood up well to the competition in every respect. He is not always top dog in a particular sonata, but nearly always close. The whole set is so inexpensive that I would recommend beginners to buy it and to add individual recordings later.
CD 1 of the Nimbus set gets off to a quiet start with Sonata No.1 from 1795. Though there are signs of the distinctive Beethoven manner to come here, Roberts doesn’t stress these by over-egging the pudding; he gives a very satisfying, neat, tidy, but not too delicate account, taken at a fairly brisk pace throughout, though never sounding rushed. The same is true of No.2 and No.3, which open CD 2 and CD 3 respectively.
You might expect Lim to do particularly well in these youthful sonatas, so I turned to her account of No.1 in expectation. Predictably her tempi are consistently a little faster than Roberts’, but not to a huge extent. There’s certainly lightness of touch but it’s allied with underlying strength and I enjoyed this performance.
Nimbus CD 1 closes with the Appassionata Sonata, from Beethoven’s middle period. Roberts gives this, right from the start, the soulful treatment which its name implies. In the opening movement he takes Beethoven’s marking allegro assai with a pinch of salt, perhaps thinking, as I have seen suggested, that Beethoven sometimes confused the French assez (fairly) and the Italian assai (very). Whatever the reason, 10:13 – almost a minute longer than most performances – seems to me to be reasonable for this movement, especially as Roberts indulges in a degree of rubato (not excessive) to achieve it. I’m with Roberts and his slightly weightier tempo here, but if you are looking for a compromise, Jenö Jandó on Naxos (8.550294, with No.21 and No.23) – as usual reliable without being exceptional – splits the difference between Roberts and the ‘mainstream’, as does Alfred Brendel on his early Vox recording (CDX-5042, 2 CDs: Nos.16-19, 21-23 and 26 – or Alto ALC1016, Nos.8, 14, 23 and 26). In his recording of the Appassionata with the Emperor Concerto (Philips 468 6662, with VPO/Rattle), Brendel is even closer to Roberts in this movement.
There’s respect for the marking andante con moto, too, from Roberts in the second movement, though I might have welcomed a slightly faster pace at the outset. In the finale he observes both parts of the marking ( allegro non troppo), so there’s nothing headlong, but there is plenty of power and emotion and the concluding bars are taken at a virtuoso pace. Overall I found this a very satisfying account, bringing a degree of new light to a well-known work without being at all quirky. Listening to it a second time was even more convincing.
Predictably, Lim allies herself throughout with those who take a faster view of this sonata, though her tempi are not extreme she actually takes the opening movement slightly slower than Angela Hewitt on the first volume of her Beethoven recordings. Lim takes the finale at quite a lick but so, for example, does Vladimir Ashkenazy (Decca Eloquence 480 1309). Though her version certainly works for me, so too does Roberts’.
If HJ Lim has set her interpretations down at an early stage in her career, David Wilde is something of a wonder for the opposite reason – though well into his seventies, he’s only just entered the limelight, yet he plays with a combination of the technique of a young virtuoso and the maturity of a seasoned practitioner on his recording of Nos. 21 Waldstein, 17 Tempest and 31 (Delphian DCD34090: Recording of the Month and November 2011/2 Download Roundup.)
The d minor Sonata, Op.31/2, the Tempest, dates from the transitional period between the earliest works, such as the Op.18 Quartets, and the very productive middle period. This was the period of the Third Piano Concerto when Beethoven’s music was beginning to break away from the influence of the previous generation of Haydn and Salieri. Wilde takes a more expansive view of the first movement, adopts roughly the same tempo as Roberts for the adagio, and is slightly faster in the allegretto finale. I thought Roberts somewhat routine in this sonata, especially in the adagio, which sounds ponderous rather than affective.
I certainly preferred Wilde in the finale, though Brian Reinhart, for all his admiration of the album as a whole, had some reservations here. Roberts’ finale offers us the letter of the music with exemplary technique, but it seems to miss the last degree of joy. I appreciate that it’s allegretto, not allegro, but I felt that Wilde’s 7:05 was more in the spirit of the music than Roberts’s 7:26. The latter seems to offer a view of a composer who is not yet completely his own man, not yet what Roberts himself describes in the brief notes as ‘dynamic, deeply expressive and visionary’. Lim rattles through this movement at an unbelievable 6:01; that’s preferable to Roberts and I can only marvel that none of the phrasing is slurred at this speed, but Wilde’s is the version of this sonata to have.
Though my recommendation of the Nimbus set overall holds, therefore, this illustrates the hazards of relying on just one artist throughout; for this sonata I’d certainly add another version. Though I listened to Roberts on CD and to Wilde from an mp3 download (albeit at the full 320kb/s rate, from classicsonline.com), which ought to give Roberts an edge, Wilde sounded more dynamic from the very opening of the first movement, the slow movement a little more expressive and the finale a little more joyful. Both Wilde and Roberts are preferable here to Thomas Sauer, whose recording of the Op.31 Sonatas I found somewhat wanting (MSR Classics MS1284).
David Wilde offers the middle-period Waldstein Sonata, No.21 on his new recording, one of the works also available separately from Nimbus. Wilde, who takes both sections very slightly faster than Roberts, is closer to the general consensus and on the whole slightly preferable. This time I think the contest between the two pianists a little less weighted in Wilde’s favour, though generally agreeing with Brian Reinhart, who thought this probably the highlight of the disc.
Lim plays the Waldstein on the second disc of Volume 2 – CD4 of the complete set. Here again, the tempo of the first movement is too hectic: at 9:58 against Wilde’s 10:48 and Roberts’s 11:05, the music doesn’t have time to breathe. The same is true of the Introduzione, here tracked as a separate movement, as on the Wilde recording. The final Rondo is a real tour de force combined with real delicacy in the slower sections, though the transition between the two can sound a little abrupt and brutal.
BR was slightly less impressed by Wilde’s take on the late sonata, Op.110. These late works are as difficult to bring off as the Late String Quartets with which they are contemporaneous; both perplexed Beethoven’s audiences and both can provide difficult listening even for modern ears.
There’s one set of the late sonatas that remains my benchmark: Wilhelm Kempff on DG E453 0102, an inexpensive 2-disc set of Nos. 27-32 from his 1960s stereo recordings. I didn’t consult him in the case of the Hammerklavier for fear of seeming to be unduly influenced by nostalgia, but I can’t resist calling Kempff into comparison for No.31, Op.110. Jens Laurson, writing about Kempff’s recordings in a survey of what was available at the time (2009) finds it hard to pin down exactly what it is that makes Kempff’s Beethoven so superb. Overall I can’t better his summing up – ‘Solid, in the best, most empathetically positive sense of the word.’
Kempff and Roberts adopt almost exactly the same tempo in each of the opening movements of Op.110, with Wilde just a little slower than either. All three combine the cantabile and molto espressivo aspects of the first movement very well. Wilde is a little faster in the adagio and fuga but, again, there’s very little in it. Kempff, on whose recording DG run these last two sections together, takes just 9:44 overall against Roberts’ 11:24 and Wilde’s 11:15. Both sections from Kempff are faster: his adagio is certainly more non troppo than from Roberts or Wilde, without losing any of its emotive power, and his fugue is certainly allegro without losing sight of the non troppo marking and without sounding hurried. As good as Roberts and Wilde are here, I’d certainly also want Kempff’s recording as an alternative.
Lim is even faster in the adagio and fuga – tracked together on her recording, as with Kempff, and coming in at just 8:34. She starts the adagio portentously and she’s generally both affective and effective in this section; by the clock she’s the fastest of all the recordings that I compared without seeming unduly hasty. Indeed, though she’s a minute faster overall even than Kempff, I enjoyed her take on this sonata more than I had expected.
Lim ends volume 1 with the Moonlight Sonata. In the first movement she’s notably faster than Roberts and at least some of the magic is lost thereby; a good deal less than you might imagine from the comparative timings, but Roberts captures the fantasia and allows us much better to see that the nickname is apt. I didn’t enjoy Lim’s tentative account of the second movement; it’s as if she were thinking out her approach on the spot where Roberts knows where he’s going from the start. Lim’s finale is sufficiently agitato but here again there’s too much of a scrabble, even at a basic tempo not much faster than that of Roberts, and I thought her less than fully involved with the music.
One advantage of the Delphian recording concerns the inclusion of Wilde’s own notes, which are informative not only about the music but also about some of his decisions in performance. Even at the extremely advantageous price, I could have wished that Nimbus had also offered more detailed notes; you get just the playing times plus two pages on the music and a page on Bernard Roberts. If you purchase the Lim complete recording as a download from amazon.co.uk, the booklet of notes comes as part of the deal; I haven’t seen this, but I understand that some of HJ Lim’s thoughts are a little bizarre.
Overall, then, I’d certainly strongly endorse the complete Nimbus set for reliable performances – often much than that – a decent quality of recording and sheer value. I’d want to supplement it with individual recordings from some of the artists whom I’ve mentioned. Regrettably, despite their availability at a most advantageous price, neither of the individual twofers from HJ Lim’s new recordings nor her complete set would be among them. Give her Beethoven a few years to settle down and a complete set from her may well be well worth hearing. Meanwhile, if you’re looking to supplement Roberts with performances from a young pianist on top form, try Ingrid Fliter in Nos. 8 Pathétique, 17 and 23 Appassionata (EMI 045732: Bargain of the Month and September 2011/2 Download Roundup).
-- Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International
Cornelius: Der Barbier von Bagdad / Leitner, West German Radio Symphony
The young and rich Nureddin is deeply in love with Margiana, the daughter of the Cadi. His childhood friend, Bostana, arranges a meeting and Nureddin sends for Abul Hassan Ali Ebn Bekar, the best barber in town, to make him presentable. The barber is more interested in talking about his knowledge of art and science and Nureddin asks his servants to throw him out. The Barber turns furious and chases the servants, knife in hand, but some tactical flatteries makes him calm down and do his job. When Nureddin tells him about his approaching meeting, the barber gets so excited that he offers to accompany Nureddin. In the second act the two lovers meet but are disturbed by the sudden return of the Cadi. Nureddin hides and when the barber hears cries from a slave being punished he believes it is Nureddin and rushes into the house. Believing Nureddin to have been murdered he sends for the Caliph, who arrives. Nureddin is found and pressurised by the Caliph. The Cadi accepts that the young couple should be married. The verbose barber makes such an impression on the Caliph that he is invited to work for him.
Not one of literature’s masterworks, maybe, but much thinner and more incomprehensible librettos have been successfully set to music. Cornelius’s opera was not a success at the premiere on 15 December 1858 at Hoftheater in Weimar. The composer describes the disaster as follows:
‘My work had drawn a full house. The performance filled the evening and was excellent, splendid, considering the difficulties the work presents. Right from the start, the applause was accompanied by persistent hissing from a hired, well-organized and expediently distributed group that was unprecedented in the annals of Weimar … At the end there was a fight lasting ten minutes.’
The reason for the debacle was decidedly not the quality of the music or the play. This was a protest against the conductor of the evening, Franz Liszt, whose radical ideas were not to everybody’s liking – and it was successful. The production was taken off the repertoire and Liszt resigned and left Weimar for good. But the one who suffered the most was Cornelius, who never saw his opera staged again during his lifetime. It was revived about twenty years later, again with no success. In 1884 in Karlsruhe, Felix Mottl – who orchestrated Wagner’s Wesendonck-Lieder – presented it, but in truncated and altered form. It was not until 1904 that it was staged in its original shape. After that it was regarded as one of the best German comic operas – next to Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg according to some judges.
I hadn’t heard the opera before, although there exist two studio recordings. Columbia set it down in London in 1956 with Erich Leinsdorf conducting and a starry cast including Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Nicolai Gedda, Hermann Prey and with Oskar Czerwenka as the barber. In the early 1970s Heinrich Hollreiser recorded it with Sylvia Geszty, Adalbert Kraus, Bernd Weikl and with Karl Ridderbusch as the barber. There also seems to have been an even older, Vienna-based recording, from 1952.
What I knew from as far back as the early 1960s was the overture, which appeared now and then in recordings and on concerts. I remembered it as something quite different from the usual potpourri of melodies from the subsequent opera. This piece, with a playing time of over seven minutes, is symphonically constructed – a kind of symphonic poem in fact. It is artfully orchestrated with a lot of woodwind solos and an orchestral texture that is transparent and airy - more Mozartean than Wagnerian. What is more: the whole opera is permeated by this artfulness with impressive ensembles and powerful but still translucent choruses with some contrapuntal writing. On top of all this there is an atmospheric entr’acte opening act two, thematically built on the muezzin’s proclamation of prayer. It is the only music in the score with an oriental touch.
The proceedings are dominated by Nureddin and Abul Hassan Ali Ebn Bekar, the barber. Both singers are excellent. Horst R. Laubenthal, then at the beginning of a great international career – was born in 1939 and made his debut in 1967. He has a mellifluous lyric tenor, ideally suited to Mozart and the lyric German tenor roles. He is also a vivid actor. The fine love duet in act two is one of the high-spots in the opera. There he is especially winning, partnered by Helen Donath, who here manages to soften her voice a little – elsewhere she can be irritatingly acidulous. There is nothing sour about Hans Sotin’s impressive barber, however. This must be a dream role for a fruity bass and Sotin revels in the opportunities to make a show. His is a large, sonorous, warm and evenly produced voice of exceptional beauty. The very lowest notes – and he is required to sing quite a few of them – are somewhat sketchy but otherwise he is admirable. He produces ringing top notes that many a baritone should envy.
The rest of the cast are more or less comprimarios, but the young Dale Duesing – he was only 26 at the time – is a fine Caliph. Veteran Fritz Peter is a Cadi full of character and Marga Schiml – also still in her twenties – does what she can with Bostana’s role. The versatile Ferdinand Leitner, who had a special affinity with Mozart, obviously enjoys the score. He is well supported by the Cologne Radio forces. The male chorus has a field day in the riveting Hinaus aus Hof und Haus (CD 1 tr. 7), where they are ordered to throw the cackling barber out of the house.
The sound is what is to be expected from a 35-year-old radio recording: not very spectacular but well balanced. I wouldn’t have minded some more cue-points and a libretto should have been included. Not many listeners will be familiar with the work and the brief synopsis is no substitute.
Whether Der Barbier von Bagdad will ever be a standard work again is hard to prophesy – this kind of story has probably lost its attraction to latter-day generations. It is nevertheless rather amusing and the music definitely deserves a better fate than oblivion.
-- Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International
Erik Then-Bergh: The Complete Electrola & Deutsche Grammophon Recordings
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REVIEW:
Erik Then-Bergh was much respected as both pedagogue and performer. His stereo recording of Max Reger's Piano Concerto, with Hans Rosbaud conducting, is thought through from the first bar to the last. It has a naturalness to it that eluded even Rudolf Serkin's otherwise fine versions for Columbia. The solo piano Telemann-Reger Variations in particular are joyous, elegant, and crisply articulated. A highly desirable memorial collection overall to a much-undervalued pianist. Excellent transfers.
– Gramophone
Cage: Piano Works / Schleiermacher
In the last years of his life, John Cage wrote a great many so-called "Number Pieces" the title indicating the number of performing musicians. While most of these pieces indicate which instruments are to be played, as well as the sounds that are to be produced, other pieces offer only general tone descriptions or a framework for choosing the tones oneself. What these pieces do have in common is time\-organization: Cage designates the measure within which the tones must be played. Should one play these sound\-sequences within the interval quickly, then one must wait for the beginning of the next measure in order to continue; should one play with an even slowness, the separate intervals are joined without interruption. And so, each performance of the same piece is different: in one instance an even flow of sounds, in another a pulsation of rapid responses accompanied by pauses (including all variations). An exception is "Two²". Here the two pianists do not play according to a stopwatch, but rather by reacting to one another: Although the piece indicates measure, it does not assign tempo or even pulse. While both interpreters play independently of each other, they may continue on to the next measure only when the other player has finished his. Cage decided on the number of tones within a measure by drawing upon the rules of Renga, Japanese linked poetry, in which the number of syllables per verse are set at 5, 7, 5, 7, 7. As the pedal is continuously depressed, the notes sound into one another and this inner structure remains undetected.
VENOM: LET THERE BE CARNAGE (O
SPRING IS HERE
Avison: Sonatas Op 1 & Op 8 / Avison Ensemble
The Avison Ensemble continue to do proud the composer whose name they bear. Having recorded his Opp. 3 and 4 (Naxos 8.557905-6 – see review) and Op.6 Concertos (Naxos 8.557553-4 – see Jonathan Woolf’s review and Johan van Veen’s review), Concerti after Geminiani (Divine Art DDA21210 – see review), the Op.9 and Op.10 Concerti Grossi (DDA21211) and his Concerti Grossi after D Scarlatti (DDA21213), they now turn their attention to the Op.1 Trio Sonatas and the Op.8 Keyboard Sonatas with accompaniments. I’m on record as offering high praise to DDA21211 – see review – and DDA21213 – see review – and Jonathan Woolf was also lavish in his praise for DDA21213 – see review.
The works on the new set may not reach quite the heights of the Concertos after Geminiani and Scarlatti – go for those two sets first – but they are by no means negligible: unfailingly tuneful and well-constructed. The Op.1 pieces may well have had their origin as exercises when Avison was being tutored by Geminiani; if so, they are the work of a very competent and inspired pupil, by no means a slavish imitator of his mentor. Even when he adapted the keyboard works of Geminiani and Scarlatti, Avison did much more than merely orchestrate their music, just as Geminiani had done in orchestrating the music of his own mentor, Corelli.
The Op.1 Sonatas are advertised on their title page (reproduced in the well-documented Divine Art booklet) as ‘for two violins and a bass’. This makes them, in effect, Trio Sonatas in the manner of Corelli – indeed, they all follow the four-movement pattern of Corelli’s Sonate da chiesa, slow-fast-slow-fast, though it is unlikely that they were intended for church performance. The ‘bass’ is performed here on the cello and chest organ, making for a very full sound. I’m on record as preferring the cleaner sound of violin and harpsichord, without cello, in Corelli’s Op.5 Sonatas (Naxos 8.557799 – see review) but the fuller sound works well in Avison’s Op.1, making the music sound much closer to the Concerti Grossi on the Ensemble’s other recordings.
The Op.1 Sonatas are in a form transmitted from Corelli via Geminiani. By the date of the Op.8 Sonatas, however, the music of Rameau was becoming influential in England and Avison specifically mentions ‘Scarlatti, Rameau and Carlo-Bach’ (i.e. CPE Bach) alongside Geminiani in his ‘Advertisement’ for the set. The notes in the booklet very reasonably speculate that Avison knew Rameau’s Pièces de clavecin en concerts: he certainly praises the French composer for his ‘spirited Science’. Once again, however, whatever the degree of Rameau’s influence, Avison is no slavish imitator. I hear the influence of Scarlatti and, perhaps, even a foretaste of Boccherini in Sonata No.3 (trs.6-7).
The title page of Op.8 (again, reproduced in the booklet) described the works as ‘for the harpsichord with accompanyments for two violins and a violoncello’ and he specified that the string parts ‘being intended for Assistants only ... ought no where to overpower the Harpsichord.’ This brings me to my one reservation concerning the new recording. Whatever Avison’s intentions – reinforced by the fact that the harpsichord part is capable of being performed alone – the ‘Assistant’ strings do sometimes prove intrusive on the recording. This may well be an inherent problem in the music itself rather than one to be laid at the door of the performers or the engineers. Without suggesting that multi-miking or other trickery should have been employed, I should have thought it possible for the harpsichord part to be brought out more fully on a recording.
It’s a minor criticism and it didn’t spoil my enjoyment unduly. Otherwise I have nothing but praise for everything on these CDs. Music, performance and recording – preferably with a slight volume reduction from your normal setting – all contribute to a most enjoyable experience and the booklet is a model of its kind. As on the earlier recordings, there are no rough edges to the sound of the period instruments employed; this is early music without tears. I look forward now to the appearance of the Op.5 and Op.7 sonatas.
-- Brian Wilson, ClassicsToday.com
LIVE AT POMPEII
Weber: Euryanthe / Sutherland, Vroons, Stiedry, BBC Symphony
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REVIEW:
Despite big cuts (including around 20 minutes’ worth of Act 3), this is a well-prepared performance of considerable merits. Not the least of these is the proof that Joan Sutherland could indeed have made a serious career in the dramatic German Fach: she sounds an outstandingly fluent and natural exponent of the titlerole. Conductor Fritz Stiedry’s preserved Wagner performances are often a little spotty but here he seems in well-ordered control of everything. All the other major roles are on committed top form.
– Gramophone
Dunstable: Sweet Harmony / Pitts, Tonus Peregrinus

This is an interesting adventure for early music fans--70 minutes devoted to one of the most influential and respected English composers ever, but one who is rarely heard today except as an occasional contributor to early music compilations. (Another excellent all-Dunstable disc, from 1995 by the Orlando Consort on Metronome is still available.) This disc's title, Sweet Harmony, comes from the uniquely sonorous feature of Dunstable's music that inspired imitation by composers throughout Europe--the manner in which he used and combined thirds, whether in blocks or as coincidental occurrences among polyphonic parts. The result produces pleasingly vibrant sequences of harmonic consonance, often interrupted with surprising cross-relations or redirected with unusual "backward" harmonic shifts--and there are many times where the boldness of the harmony and complexity of the rhythm can only leave you with renewed respect for this 15th-century music's sophistication and inherent expressive qualities.
The eight voices of Tonus Peregrinus--two sopranos, alto, countertenor, three tenors, and bass--make the most of those expressive qualities, in clear, vibrato-colored timbre, captured in the ideally resonant acoustic of Chancelade Abbey in Dordogne, France. The program, which primarily consists of a group of Mass movements framed by two of Dunstable's better-known motets, concludes with a remarkable, recently-discovered Gloria in canon, reconstructed by Margaret Bent and first recorded on the abovementioned Orlando Consort disc in five parts--the original probably had six or seven (the full manuscript is not intact). Here, the singers fill out the existing reconstruction with their own realization, adding an accompanying two-part canon to more closely approximate the style and presumed structure of the original. However authentic or inauthentic, it's a marvelous piece and a sublime rendition that, along with the rest of these works, fully justifies the words of Dunstable's famous epitaph, which honors one "who had secret knowledge of the stars" and "scattered the sweet arts of music throughout the world." Outstanding! [12/7/2006]
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
Chopin: Mazurkas / Evgeni Koroliov
The pianist lends interest to the rather uneventful Op. 24 No. 1 by slightly accenting the dissonances, while his gentle way with the implicitly boisterous Op. 7 No. 1 is offset by striking phrase elongations and cross-rhythmic interplay in the deliciously modal Trio. Similarly, Op. 24 No. 2’s pared down outer sections contrast to the surprisingly rolled, loud A-flat major chords announcing its Trio. In fact, Koroliov is not averse to arpeggiating chords at will, or playing the left hand slightly before the right, dead pianist style, yet he employs these devices wisely. Deft polyphonic control justifies Koroliov’s admittedly pulled-about Op. 24 No. 4 and Op. 56 No. 3, while his mesmerizing legato control in the A minor “Émile Gaillard” Mazurka similarly convinces you that his unorthodox slow tempo is a plausible alternative.
Koroliov’s Chopin Mazurkas aren’t so much dances as distinct and diversified dramas, and he brings off his conceptions without a trace of ambiguity, whether or not you agree with the pianist’s every step. Tacet provides superb engineering and fulsome, high-handed annotations.
-- Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com
Shostakovich & Pupils, Vol. 1 / Damiano
The first volume in an adventurous new series juxtaposing the piano music of Shostakovich with his most talented pupils. All three of the younger composers here demonstrate the individuality of their own voice.
Least known of them now is German Galynin (1922-1966). In 1951, the year in which he paradoxically obtained the Stalin Prize for his Epic Poem on Russian Themes, Galynin began suffering from schizophrenia that he was admitted to an asylum, and continued to received psychiatric care for the rest of his short life. He wrote this five-movement Suite in 1945, while still a student at the Conservatoire, and it alternates somewhat prophetically between moods of mania and melancholy.
Shostakovich himself cited Alemdar Karamanov (1934-2007) as one of the most original composers of his time. Ukrainian born but of Turkish parentage, he studied in Moscow before returning to Crimea, converting to Christianity and thus consigning himself to obscurity at the time, and his later music shares an experimental, visionary quality with contemporary pioneers such as Schnittke, Denisov, and Gubaidulina. The Variations for piano (1962) belong to the last phase of his Moscow period.
The career of Boris Tchaikovsky (1925-1996) proceeded along smoother lines. The single-movement Sonatina from 1946 is again a student work, albeit a highly talented and disciplined one, with the kind of thorough-going understanding of Classical form which Shostakovich evidently instilled in and expected from his students.
Fernanda Damiano juxtaposes these pianistic rarities with several pieces which demonstrate the breadth of style and confidence of artistic personality that made Shostakovich stand out from his contemporaries. Alongside the fleet-fingered brilliance of the Three Fantastic Dances and the Polka from his ballet The Golden Age, she plays a trio of Preludes and Fugues (Nos. 1, 7 & 24) from the collection he wrote for Tatiana Nikolaeva, another pupil, in 1950-51.
LET'S GET AWAY
NINA'S BACK
ESSENTIAL
4 Cycles (The) – Where the Heart Is Pure / The Changing Light / 5 Love Motets / 3 Songs from Ish River
ONLY TRUST YOUR HEART
Debussy: Images / Markl, Lyon NO
DEBUSSY Images. Pour le piano: Sarabande (orch. Ravel). Danse (orch. Ravel). Marche écossaise. La plus que lente • Jun Märkl, cond; Lyon Natl O • NAXOS 8.572296 (59:45)
This is the third volume in a series of Debussy’s orchestral music from the Lyon orchestra under its young German conductor; I haven’t heard the other two, but on this evidence I want to.
Images gets off to a good start with a Gigues of smooth, rounded, refined sonorities—little or no hint here of those tangy, fruity, acidic French orchestral timbres of a bygone era (still well in evidence in, e.g., Martinon’s EMI Debussy recordings of the 1970s). Rhythmic and dynamic detail is sharply observed. Phrases are beautifully shaped, with plenty of breathing space, building impressively to the tragic climax.
Ibéria is absolutely first-rate, displaying a masterly integration of the work’s many subtle tempo changes, in the service of Debussy’s incomparably atmospheric evocations: e.g., in “Par les rues et par les chemins,” the transition from sun-drenched glitter to the mysterious, unsettlingly shadowy world of the central part. “Les parfums de la nuit” is taken slowly (9:18; compare Boulez’s briskly efficient 7:30), with beautifully swung habanera rhythms. “Le matin d’un jour de fête” relishes to the full both the majestic, dazzling luminosity of the movement’s outer sections and the quirky eccentricity of its central adventures. I don’t know if Jun Märkl is a string player by training, but throughout he achieves an amazing variety of string sounds and articulations reminiscent of the great string-playing maestros of the past—above all, Monteux, and his classic 1963 version with the LSO (Philips). Listen to the extraordinary care Märkl lavishes over such details such as the violas’ taking over the ostinato in the central nocturnal procession of “Par les rues” ( léger et rythmé , and suddenly rather sinister-sounding in its new surroundings); the darkly delicate swaying of the divided violas’ and cellos’ introduction of the sinuous habanera in “Les parfums”; or the electrifying crescendos of the “giant guitar” effect in “Le matin.”
The performance of Rondes de printemps is spacious and finely detailed, holding tempo and power in reserve for an exciting quickening of the pulse in the coda.
All in all, these Images easily stand comparison to the best of the digital era. They come across as less self-conscious than Rattle/City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (EMI, with the British maestro’s characteristically imaginative drawing of detail—in Gigues , for instance, chillier northern mists, and a stronger sense of mounting desperation). On the other hand, they sound more emotionally engaged than Boulez/Cleveland (DG, in a gorgeously nuanced sonic tapestry dispatched with cool, patrician elegance).
Märkl lavishes just as much care on the short pieces, from the gorgeous kaleidoscope of marble tints in Ravel’s orchestration of the Sarabande to the swirling mists of the Marche écossaise, whose engaging Celtic camp conceals many touches of real Debussyan harmonic alchemy. The sinuous rubato of La Plus que lente ’s slow waltz (complete with exotically twanging cimbalom) is teased out to the manner born.
The recording is resonant and spacious, a natural concert hall balance with outstanding perspective and depth, and no artificial highlighting of detail. This conductor/orchestra partnership is clearly something out of the ordinary, and I’ll be watching for more from them. At the price, the disc is a terrific bargain, whether you’re a newcomer to these pieces or a seasoned collector of multiple versions.
FANFARE: Boyd Pomeroy