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Gluck: Iphigenie En Aulide, Iphigenie En Tauride / Minkowski, Gens, Delunsch
Opus Arte · Mar 2013DVD$39.99 -
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Penderecki: Horn & Violin Concertos, Etc / Kelemen, Vlatkovic, Dworzynski, LPO
LPO · Feb 2020CD$15.99 -
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Gluck: Iphigenie En Aulide, Iphigenie En Tauride / Minkowski, Gens, Delunsch
GLUCK Iphigénie en Aulide.1 Iphigénie en Tauride2 & • Marc Minkowski, cond; 1Véronique Gens (Iphigénie); 2Mireille Delunsch (Iphigénie); Salomé Haller (Diana); Nicolas Testé (Agamemnon); Anne Sofie von Otter (Clytemnestre); Frédéric Antoun (Achille); Martijn Cornet (Patrocle); Laurent Alvaro (Arcas/Thoas); Jean-François Lapointe (Oreste/Calchas); Yann Beuron (Pylade); Netherlands Op Ch; Les Musiciens du Louvre Grenoble • OPUS ARTE 1099 (2 DVDs: 229:00) Live: Amsterdam 9/7/2011
& The making of “Iphigénie en Aulide”; “Iphigénie en Tauride” (38: 00)
This two-DVD set documents an unusual evening in the theater, with both of Gluck’s Iphigénie operas being given on one night as a double bill. The risk of mounting such a project is great, not least because these operas are very draining on both cast and audience. The fact that Marc Minkowski was able to pull this off was due in no small measure to the intelligent casting, which duplicated only two singers in both operas: Salomé Haller as Diana and Laurent Alvaro, who sings the small role of Arcas in the first opera and Thoas in the second.
For those unfamiliar with these Gluck operas, they represent somewhat different styles despite their similar subject matter and the fact that they were only written five years apart. Gluck’s growth as a creative artist in those five years was phenomenal, almost as stunning as Igor Stravinsky’s growth between the first and last acts of his opera The Nightingale. In Iphigénie en Aulide, although he already has a firm grasp of the new musico-dramatic structures he had created, he was still operating in an essentially lyric vein. There are strophic arias and all of the recitatives are orchestrally accompanied, which gives the music a remarkable sense of unity that was very rare in those days, but by 1779, when he wrote Iphigénie en Tauride, his sureness of handling drama through music had grown to its full maturity. The later opera, even from its opening notes, has a much greater thrust and impetuosity in both the orchestral and vocal writing than was present in the earlier opera. This, then, presents director, cast, and conductor with another challenge, which is how to reconcile the differing styles of these operas in one night’s performance.
Pierre Audi’s direction is singularly arresting and brilliant despite sparse sets and updated, somewhat ridiculous costumes. We see Iphigénie and Achille singing to each other in trench coats; when Iphigénie appears later in the first opera, she is wearing a bomb belt on what looks like a prom dress and a greasepaint X on her forehead to indicate that she has been marked for death. Calchas, the High Priest, looks nerdy in a blue suit with shirt open at the collar and horn-rimmed glasses—and, of course, we get our ubiquitous mostly-naked guy in tight slacks (who turns out to be Arcas). In act II, Agamemnon appears in a carnival cruise ship captain’s outfit, complete with dorky hat and a little winged emblem on it (and sunglasses…don’t forget the sunglasses, even though the stage is nearly as dark as pitch). In short, the costumes are rather ridiculous. The set, such as it is, consists of two high but narrow staircases on either side of the very small stage. Yet to Audi’s credit, he directs around this nonsense to create a dramatic presentation that is both interesting and appropriate to an updating of Greek theater. One can almost envision these singing actors performing their roles in more conventional costumes and sets, and their portrayals are dramatically apropos as well as fascinating to watch.
As for the singers in the first opera, pride of place goes to Nicolas Testé as Agamemnon. He possesses a large, well-focused voice that can even negotiate a trill, and his acting is superb. Nearly as fine are Véronique Gens as Iphigénie and Frédéric Antoun as Achille. Both have smallish voices of the sort that Gluck undoubtedly wrote for, yet they are pointed and carry well and their duets are a joy to the ear. Less impressive is Jean-François Lapointe as Calchas, whose voice has a flutter and an insufficient low range for the role. Anne Sofie von Otter, quite frankly, has little or nothing left of what was once a lovely if small voice. Twenty-plus years of singing, including several roles too large for her, have left the voice wobbly and hollow-sounding. She lacks volume even in so small a theater as this one that De Nederlandse Opera performs in. Her acting as always is spot-on, but I’m not listening to her just for acting. I want some voice, too.
Yet through it all, holding everything together, is the golden thread of Minkowski’s conducting, so that in the end one feels justified in going through this experience for his sure-handed leadership. One of the virtues of hearing a conductor this gifted is his way of knitting everything together so that chorus-recit-aria-vocal ensemble all flows seamlessly and naturally, with appropriate dramatic peaks when called for. Besides, it’s such a rare treat to actually see a production of any Gluck opera nowadays that I can almost overlook von Otter’s vocal faults and the silly costumes. Even in the earlier Iphigénie opera, one can clearly hear Gluck’s musical innovations and—more importantly for us today, with 20/20 hindsight—how much these innovations impacted the music of Cherubini, Spontini, Berlioz, and eventually Wagner. This is especially evident in those orchestrally accompanied recitatives: With their brief, almost blunt melodic thrusts, they stab into the listener’s ears in such a way that they convey the impetuosity of the characters. How ironic, then, that the “bel canto boys,” Rossini-Bellini-Donizetti, turn recitatives back into semi-parlando mush in the early decades of the 19th century. Listen—for just one small example-to the way Agamemnon sings of his daughter, whom he loves, and the tender accents that Gluck imparts to the orchestra behind him, using soft winds; then, immediately after, as he thinks of the sacrifice he is about to make, the tempo doubles and short, stabbing strings cut into his words. This is writing of pure genius. There is no other way to describe it.
The one demerit one can make against Gluck (and, specifically, his librettist) is that they whitewashed the story in order to provide a happy ending. In reality, Agamemnon had no guilt pangs or second thoughts about sacrificing his daughter, and in fact Iphigénie was killed to appease Diana; but by changing the ending of the story, Gluck was not only able to send his audiences home whistling a happy tune but also to manufacture out of thin air the “legend” that Diana took Iphigénie to her home island of Tauride, where the unfortunate girl spent much of her time doing what her father wanted to do to her: killing—oops, sacrificing—strangers who landed there to the goddess. Fabricated the story may be, but Gluck turned it into one of the most riveting operas ever written.
After a rough beginning, in which her voice is unsteady and very nasal, Mireille Delunsch brings it into clear focus and gives a good account of Iphigénie. Mind you, her performance here will not efface memories of Carol Vaness or Susan Graham, but it’s very fine on its own merits. As in the first opera, Minkowski’s conducting is just spectacular—he really “drives the storm” that opens this opera with intense fury—and again he manages to knit together the various scenes into a cohesive whole. Here, too, the staging makes even more sense that it did in the first opera, and except for Thoas (Laurent Alvaro) wearing a modern-day military uniform (what the heck is it with Regietheater directors and military uniforms? If they want to wear one so badly, just put it on yourself and leave the characters in their traditional garb!) most of the costumes here make much more sense. Sadly, Alvaro’s voice is consistently unsteady despite a bright timbre and his high notes covered and nasal. In short, he’s a poor choice for a role that requires long stretches of singing that are powerful and call for dramatic focus. The two priestesses, Simone Riksman and Rosanne van Sandwijk, are splendid, but the smaller male roles are sung rather pitifully.
Happily, our Oreste (Lapointe) and Pylade (Yann Beuron) are quite fine, which is important because from the point of their entrance onward they get the lion’s share of the singing. The staging of Iphigénie’s aria in which she grieves for her dead family is very well sung and staged, but I question the need to have Thoas come sneering into the picture to kiss her at the end.
Suffice it to say that Minkowski uses “original instruments” (or facsimiles thereof) as well as lower pitch (whether the A=409 supposedly used by French court tuner Pascal Taskin in 1783, the A=407.9 used a few years earlier, or Mozart’s A=421 I have no idea…these people really get hung up over this stuff), which makes the music sound at least a half-tone lower than you’re used to it from any A=440 performance, but to me this is all a moot point. It’s the performance that matters, the feeling and intensity of the playing and singing, not which tuning fork was used.
My lone complaint on packaging is that the booklet does not break down the operas by scenes, thus if you’re skipping ahead to catch a specific aria or scene you’ll have to guess. I’m not sure why they didn’t do this; I’ve seen it in almost every other opera DVD I’ve ever reviewed.
Having now given detailed descriptions of the performances, we reach the point where one rightly expects an endorsement or a rejection. I find myself divided on this issue, however. Audi’s direction, the conducting of Minkowski, and the singing of some, but not all, of the principals are certainly first-rate, but then we are faced with those cluttered staircases and inappropriate costumes (not to mention the substandard singing of Alvaro as Thoas). On the other hand, knowing how much the world (and particularly Europe) is in the thrall, I might even say the iron grip, of Eurotrash, could you really expect to someday see better productions with equally good direction, singing and conducting? The only other Iphigénie en Tauride on DVD is the one originally issued by Kultur in 2006 but now on Arthaus Musik 100377, which features the rather strained singing of Juliette Galstian as Iphigénie and yet another idiotic production, with people in giant masks following or mimicking the principals. Overall, I tolerated the Iphigénie en Tauride better because of the finer costumes and Delunsch’s generally well-focused singing, but you may prefer great audio recordings of these two operas. The best, indeed the only great, recording of the first work is the German-language performance from 1962 with Inge Borkh (Klytemnestra), Christa Ludwig (Iphigénie), James King (Achilles), and Walter Berry (Agamemnon), conducted by Karl Böhm, on Orfeo 428962, while the now-classic Muti recording of the second opera with Carol Vaness, Gösta Winbergh, and Thomas Allen (Sony Classical) is still the benchmark.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
SYMPHONY N.9 SYMPHONY NO.38
Penderecki: Horn & Violin Concertos, Etc / Kelemen, Vlatkovic, Dworzynski, LPO
“The LPO string-players vividly felt the music’s pain. They don’t write music like that anymore” - Classical Source on Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima, 14 October 2015
This is the first release of works by Krzysztof Penderecki on the LPO Label. The Orchestra has had a long relationship with Krzysztof Penderecki as both a composer and a conductor, regularly performing his works at Royal Festival Hall.
The Adagio for Strings and Horn Concerto on this album, both conducted by the composer, are recordings of the UK premiere performances.
Krzysztof Penderecki wrote the Horn Concerto specifically for soloist Radovan Vlatkovic. The Guardian described this performance as impressive, and having a “disquieting, at times savage beauty,” while The Telegraph called it “fantastically fluent” with “genuinely entrancing [moments].”
This is also the first release on the LPO Label featuring conductor Micha? Dworzynski. He is renowned as a great champion of music by Polish composers. His interpretation of the Violin Concerto was praised by The Guardian for capturing “the work’s fraught, tightly bound texture and the imploded lyricism of its constantly evolving melodic material.”
Violinist Barnabás Kelemen’s performance in the Violin Concerto was widely praised. Bachtrack said he “[married] brilliant virtuosity to deep expressiveness. Whether racing through leaping runs or holding eye-wateringly high notes, his tone never faltered.”
The Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima is an iconic work by Penderecki which received the UNESCO Prize in 1961. On its dedication to Hiroshima, Penderecki wrote “May this threnody express my deep belief that the sacrifice of Hiroshima will never be forgotten and lost, and Hiroshima will become a symbol of brotherhood between people of good will.”
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REVIEW:
All the works here, except the First Violin Concerto, are conducted by Penderecki himself, so hearing them with the LPO in the Festival Hall immediately makes this a special document, and it is a fascinating compilation of the orchestra’s performances of his music in recent years. The LPO is consistently excellent throughout.
– Choir & Organ
Galuppi: Sonatas for Harpsichord / Alvise de Piero
172 pieces, 400 movements, 3, or more, compositional decades: those are the main features at the basis of the corpus of the keyboard Sonatas of Baldassare Galuppi, known as “il Buranello”. The indeterminacy of a specific instrument and the cultural influence of several European countries give to his music a heterogeneous character both in formal and stylistic terms, following that movement of ideas so typical among the best composers of the time. The Sonatas included in this Album come from different manuscripts and their musical language seems almost a sampler of Buranello’s different compositional modes.
Fantasia - Mozart on the Organ
Black Mountain
Imagique - A Different History of Music
Martucci, Casella & Clementi: Chamber Trios / Hèsperos Piano Trio
A plunge among the sunken composers of Italian chamber music and the salvaged ones. The program recorded in this album is a ticket for a journey of a century and a half, that is the distance between the composition of the Sonata “con accompagnamento” by Muzio Clementi (1792) and its transformation into the Trio ortodosso by Alfredo Casella (1936). An intermediate stop is represented by the Trio op. 59 by Giuseppe Martucci (1882). The route of this journey retraces a history that is not unimportant or unsurprising: it summarises the significance and vicissitudes of the chamber music produced by Italian composers from the middle of the eighteenth century onwards. In many texts of music history this topic is relegated in a note, or at most is dealt with in a paragraph, not even a chapter: an upgraded echo of the Fascist nationalism and dislike for Puccini that, for ideological reasons rather than for a historical or critical conviction, made themselves useful in raising the issue in the twentieth century. This recording, which presents a performance for piano, violin and cello, is a tiny artistic compensation, and an aesthetic and formal clarification. It leads us to consider and understand the role that Italian composers played also in the specific area of non-theatrical music.
Ravel: Orchestral & Virtuoso Piano / Vincent Larderet
It is Vincent Larderet's passion and artistic goal to achieve such musical and pianistic accuracy through a close reading of the annotations in Perlemuter's own edition of Ravel's works. Larderet focuses on two critical aspects of Ravel's musical language: firstly, the composer's engagement with various traditions of virtuosity and secondly, Ravel's specific ideas regarding orchestration and the orchestral character of his piano style.
Sounds Sublime - The Essential Collection / Christophers, The Sixteen
R E V I E W:
British choir the Sixteen is billed as being among "the Voices of Classic FM," the impressively successful British independent classical radio network. This mixed-gender adult group of (natch) 16 voices performs music ranging from the early English Renaissance to Mozart and, on occasion, the Romantics. An objection to their style might be that they tend to sound similar in all these repertories. This double-CD "essential collection" tends to reinforce that idea, but it also showcases the group's considerable strengths. To put it briefly, the Sixteen makes early music go down easy and does so without turning it completely into something different. The vocal surfaces are gorgeous, and each album contains a note by director Harry Christophers that touches on connections between the music's origins and its resonances in our own time. They sweat the details and that has never been more apparent than in this greatest-hits release. Most of the time such albums are left to label underlings and produced without imagination, but this one is beautifully packaged and has a full new set of notes concisely explaining the album's fresh concept. That concept is well thought-out; the album is not just a random selection of tracks somehow judged to be the best of the Sixteen, whose music-making is nothing if not consistent. Instead, each piece chosen is associated with a specific historical event, many of them significant junctures in British history. You couldn't ask for a better place to start in approaching unfamiliar music than to get a basic grip on its context in this way and then have it very attractively performed. The remastering is very strong; there's little sense of shifting sonic perspective even though the originals are drawn from a wide variety of this prolific group's releases. All this makes the album a fine introduction to one of modern Britain's most successful vocal groups.
-- All Music Guide
J.s. Bach: Six French Suites Bwv 812-817; Little Preludes
The first thing that strikes the listener is the clear, rich sound of the harpsichord, a Zuckerman copy of a Christian Vater instrument from 1738. Not only does this harpsichord offer an extremely balanced sound from the low end to the treble, but the recording itself enhances the musicality of the instrument. It sounds warm and full, without the sometimes harsh high end that can be tiring to listen to. Also, it is worth noting that Watchorn uses Bradley Lehman's tuning scheme, described here.
Watchorn's performances here are delightful. His playing ranges from dainty to powerful according to the needs of each specific movement. He takes full advantage of the wide spectrum of sounds his harpsichord can voice, offering tasteful ornamentation and subtle accents when desirable.
One thing that Watchorn does here that sets this recording apart from others involves interpolating preludes into those suites that lack a prelude. He has restored the prelude to the 4th suite, and plays other preludes before the suites that do not contain any. His reasoning, laid out in the liner-notes, is in part due to the fact that Bach and his sons would "improvise" preludes when playing these suites. To this end, he uses preludes from a variety of sources: The Well-Tempered Clavier, other uncollected preludes, and even BWV 999, a prelude that Bach wrote for the lute, and which is well-known.
I am very familiar with the French Suites, having long appreciated these beautiful works. Adding preludes to them is interesting, but when one has listened to them without these preludes for so long, it can be jarring to hear them with what seem like "intruders", especially those preludes that are familiar from The Well-Tempered Clavier, or the prelude for lute. I admire the research that has gone into this choice, but I will choose to listen to the French Suites without these additional movements. It is like Bach's Art of Fugue. For a long time, it was thought that the unfinished fugue was the final part of the work; it certainly sounds like a summation of the rest of the fugues, and its ending in suspension is a fitting ending for the entire work. But musicologists have shown us that its position in the work was much earlier. Nevertheless, I simply cannot listen to it in its proper position.
This set also contains the twenty "Little Preludes", other didactic works from the Clavierbüchlein for Wilhelm Friedemann Bach. Among these works, Watchorn "completed" the prelude BWV 932, which existed as a fragment. I find the Little Preludes interesting, but they certainly don't stand up to the French Suites. These are not works I return to often, though Watchorn's recordings are up to the same standards as the French Suites.
To sum up, this is a fine recording of the French Suites, with the odd aspect of the additional preludes. It is up to the listener to decide whether or not he or she wishes to hear the suites in this manner. Given the quality of the performances and especially the excellent recording, this set is among the best harpsichord recordings of these works.
-- Kirk McElhearn, MusicWeb International
Busoni, Rachmaninoff, Ravel, Stravinsky / Kempf
All four works on this disc rely on existing compositions, with titles that more or less specifically refer to this fact. In the case of Rachmaninov's Corelli Variations, it is the famous theme used by Corelli in his violin sonata La Follia which undergoes a radical pianistic treatment taking it through all the sonic and atmospheric possibilities offered by the instrument. With his celebrated transcription of Bach's Chaconne, Ferruccio Busoni had a very different aim, wanting to shed new light on the work without actually changing it. As he himself wrote, Bach taught him 'to recognize the truth that good, great and universal music remains the same, regardless of whatever means through which it resounds.' A virtuoso pianist, Busoni nonetheless had recourse to great skills in writing idiomatically for the instrument, and turned his transcription into a truly pianistic work. Ravel's collection of waltzes was composed as a nod to Schubert, who in 1823 had written two collections of waltzes, the Valses nobles and Valses sentimentales. In no way is it possible to call the work a pastiche, however - in it Ravel shows the range of his musical palette, in a manner that caused Debussy to call his ear 'the most refined that has ever existed'. Finally, Stravinsky's Three movements from Petrushka is the composer's arrangement of music from his own ballet, commissioned by Arthur Rubinstein. The origin of the music to Petrushka was in fact a sketched work for piano and orchestra, and the later arrangement was therefore to an extent a return to the original concept. The result is a virtuoso piece, in which an almost percussive approach to the instrument is combined with lightning-quick changes in atmosphere and sound. Freddy Kempf has previously recorded no less than ten highly acclaimed solo discs for BIS, of which the latest also contained a series of legendary piano works, namely Mussorgsky's Pictures, Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit and Balakirev's Islamey - according to Gramophone's reviewer 'a formidable programme formidably played... This is "live" virtuosity with a vengeance, with absolutely no hint of a safety net.'
Reich: Electric Counterpoint / Lippel
Guitarist Daniel Lippel releases a new version of Steve Reich’s iconic Electric Counterpoint. In collaboration with South African born ethnomusicologist Martin Scherzinger, Lippel approached the piece through the lens of its roots in Central Africa, specifically the traditional music of the Banda-Linda tribe, from which Reich borrowed material for the canonic theme of the opening movement. Guitarist Daniel Lippel, called an “exciting soloist” (New York Times), “precise and sensitive” (Boston Globe) has carved out a unique and diverse career that ranges through solo and chamber music performances, innovative commissioning and recording projects, and performances in diverse contexts. He has premiered more than fifty new solo and chamber works, many written for him, recording several on the independent label he co-founded and directs, New Focus Recordings. Lippel has been a member of the International Contemporary Ensemble (ICE) since 2006 and Flexible Music since 2003 and has been a guest with many other ensembles including the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, New York New Music Ensemble, New York City Opera, Either/Or Ensemble, Dinosaur Annex, and counter)induction.
The Music Of Elliott Carter Vol 4 / Speculum Musicae, Et Al
Shard, for solo guitar, is a zippy and appealing little two and a half minute trifle that, as the title implies, sounds like a piece of something bigger, but one with an edge to it. That something bigger (and edgier) turns out to be Luimen (the title is Dutch and means "whimsical moods"), of which Shard comprises the third of four continuous sections, albeit with additional instrumental commentary. The word "whimsical" aptly describes Luimen, and any composer worth his salt better have his tongue in his cheek when writing for an ensemble consisting of trumpet, trombone, harp, mandolin, guitar, and vibraphone. Why does Carter's style work so well here? Well, first of all, traditional tonality would almost inevitably force a composer into well-worn melodic and harmonic pathways hardly suited to such an unequal and strange assortment of instruments. The result would probably sound merely foolish, whereas Carter's music, with its layered approach to complex rhythms and other simultaneous musical happenings celebrates and exploits the timbral potential of just such an unbalanced instrumental grouping. Take for example the work's second section, in which lovely soft chords from muted brass, harp and vibraphone serve as a background to sudden plucks from the mandolin and guitar, or the very end of the whole work, which is exquisitely timed to produce a really humorous effect. In short, this piece delivers the goods, and does so with a smile.
The same, alas, can't be said for Tempo e tempi, a song cycle set to various Italian poems and scored for voice, oboe/English horn, clarinet/bass clarinet, violin, and cello. Here the means must be at least somewhat more traditional because the point of any song cycle is the expressive enhancement of the text through music (which is the not the same thing as mere musical illustration, mind you). Three of the songs, "A Dove", with its softly warbling clarinet, "Sunken Oboe" (the musical potential is obvious), and "The Poet's Secret", with its luminous accompaniment, accomplish this goal. The remaining five, whatever private meaning they may hold for the composer, sound as if he could have been setting excerpts from the Manhattan yellow pages, for all their expressive specificity. He's also let down by a recording that places everyone, including soprano Susan Narucki, too close to the microphones, resulting in flat aural perspectives and tonal monotony (though everything else on this disc sounds great). And let's face it, you really can't place any work with lots of solo oboe (no matter how fine the player) far enough away from the microphones, can you?
That leaves us with the celebrated Eight Pieces for Four Timpani. This seminal work, beloved of percussionists, belongs as much in the practice room as it does in the concert hall. Carter himself requests that no more than four of these brief studies ever be played at one time, recognizing the potential for aural fatigue. Daniel Druckman accommodates their metrical and polyrhythmic complexities with virtuoso flair, and he's recorded clearly enough so that the music never turns into mud. Curiously, their interest being primarily rhythmic, these pieces make pretty easy listening for anyone who enjoys virtuoso drumming or music with a certain primal quality. Our Western tradition is filled with works in which an amazing sophistication of technique evokes ancient or primitive ritual music (think of Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring or Les Noces, Varèse's Amériques, Ginastera's Popol Vuh, or Cage's Sonatas and Interludes for prepared piano), and Carter's timpani pieces fall squarely into this tradition, however personal the actual idiom.
So there you have it! Now well into his 90s, Carter continues to write challenging, stimulating music, and to enjoy the enthusiastic support and loyalty of a tremendously talented group of musicians, not least the members of Speculum Musicae. The fact that he employs a highly evolved and complex personal style with limited broad appeal should not, in the final analysis, excuse anyone--supporters, detractors, or even music critics (who ideally should belong to neither category)--from taking each work as it comes and giving it due consideration accordingly. I may be wrong, but I seriously doubt he'd want it any other way. It should also come as no surprise that not everything he writes is equally good. After all, he may be the Grand Old Man of the American avant-garde, but in all other respects he's only human, and so is his music when you come right down to it. [3/4/2002]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
1892 Reflections / Uta Weyland
Live at Singer Concert Hall 1973 / Dizzy Gillespie
Monteverdi: Vespro Della Beata Vergine / Suzuki, Et Al
This straightforward approach seems almost radical given the current glut of more fanciful versions, in which conductors reshuffle the Vespers, pepper them with antiphons and works by other composers and variously ‘adapt’ them to fit specific liturgical occasions. Such diverse interpretations make the choice of a benchmark recording highly subjective. Gardiner (dramatic, on Archiv) and Parrott (intimate and liturgically correct, on Virgin Veritas) offer fine, contrasting views, and several other versions (Christie, Garrido, Junghänel, Pickett) are well worth exploring.
This new set is consistently engaging. Unlike his rivals, Suzuki uses a high pitch of A=465Hz (common in Monteverdi’s Italy), but follows current thinking in transposing certain pieces down a fourth (the Missa, the Magnificats, ‘Lauda Jerusalem’). Performances throughout are expressive, sharply focused, intensely committed. Though he dispenses with liturgical trappings, Suzuki, aided by a spacious ‘churchy’ acoustic, certainly brings out the ritualistic and devotional character of the music, from the ornate orchestral splendour of the ‘Sonata sopra Sancta Maria’ to the tender vocal passions of ‘Pulchra es’ and ‘Duo Seraphim’. Excellent.
-- Graham Lock, BBC Music Magazine
Bach: Cantatas Vol 36 / Suzuki, Bach Collegium Japan
Four cantatas written for services during April 1725 make up the programme on this disc. Just before Easter that same year, Bach had put an end to his projected chorale cantata cycle, originally planned to span the entire church year. These particular cantatas did hot have a direct association with the gospel passage for the days in question; instead they used specific hymns as their starting point. All four cantatas on the present disc deal with the interplay between the resurrected Christ and his disciples. Among the soloists, Yukari Nonshita and Robin Blaze are well-known to the followers of this series, while James Gilchrist and Domink Wörner both appear in it for the second time. For this particular disc, Bach Collegium Japan are visited by Dan Laurin, who performs the virtuosic flauto piccolo part in BWV 103, and Dmitry Badiarov, who plays his own, unique reconstruction of a violoncello piccolo in BWV6.
WITHOUT DIMENSIONS
Escapades
The Sleep of Reason - Music for Solo Flute & Electronics
Dvorak: Symphony No 9, Heldenlied / Nelsons
No jaded reaction here to just another decent but unneeded Dvorák Ninth. This may be the most spectacular “From the New World” recording to hit the listings in, well, forever. The first thing to love about it is the recording itself. It’s not an SACD, but it’s speaker-blowing and eardrum-popping dynamic, with timpani rolls that will shiver your timbers, and massed brass and string Fortissimo s that will rattle your windows. Elsewhere, there are velvet string murmurings and delicate flute fluttering so sweet as to arrest the singing of birds outside in the trees.
The second thing to love about this performance—if, like me, you believe the symphony is called “ From the New World” (as in a letter being sent home), and not “ The New World,” for a reason—is that Andris Nelsons doesn’t try to make it sound either American or Czech. Rather, he sees the score for what it is, a mainstream late-Romantic symphony in the Austro-German tradition, exactly contemporaneous with Tchaikovsky’s “Pathétique”—both were written in 1893—and among the last to be completed in the 19th century.
Nelsons’s way with the work is very refreshing; it avoids common performance clichés that have arisen around the piece, like sentimentalizing the Largo and italicizing the alleged Native American melodies. The net effect is a cleansing one, similar to the sometimes astonishing results we witness when the paintings of old Renaissance masters are cleaned and restored. Suddenly the colors are brighter and details are revealed that were long hidden. Similarly, Nelsons’s reading of Dvorák’s Ninth Symphony makes it sound fresh and “new” all over again.
If this magnificent performance and recording of the Ninth were not enough, Nelsons gives us Dvorák’s last and least often recorded tone poem, Heldenlied (Hero’s Song), composed in 1897. Though classified as a tone poem, it’s a tone poem with no specific literary program or narrative. Formally, it’s a symphony contained within a single movement, but having four distinct sections that correspond to the four standard movements of a classical symphony. The work was premiered by Gustav Mahler and the Vienna Philharmonic in 1898.
As stunning as the recording of the Ninth Symphony is, the recording of Heldenlied , taken from another live performance 16 months later, has even more palpable presence. It made my far from inexpensive B&W speakers sound like Transmission Audio’s $2-million Ultimate speaker system, not that I’ve actually ever heard one.
This is one helluva CD. I’m not on the jury, but if I were, I’d give it the orchestral disc-of-all-time award. For a great Dvorák Ninth and a spectacular sonic experience, this is a must-have purchase.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Bach: Transcriptions / Stefano Molardi
Transcription has always been a widespread musical practice, following the desire to arrange pieces originally written for an instrumental and/or vocal ensemble for an instrument like the organ or harpsichord or, later, the piano. The eighteenth century was a very fertile period for transcriptions, reaching its pinnacle among Johann Sebastian Bach’s circle. The transcriptions Bach (1685-1750) made during his time in Weimar both for organ (three concertos by Vivaldi and two by Johann Ernst of Saxe-Weimar) and an astonishing 14 for harpsichord (by various Italian composers) are of great artistic value. However, Bach also adapted his own works originally written for instruments or voices, ‘appropriating’ them for the keyboard. These included the first movement of his Trio Sonata No. 4, taken from the sinfonia from the cantata Die Himmel erzählen die Ehre Gottes BWV 76 (for oboe d’amore, viola da gamba and basso continuo) and the Schübler chorales, which started off life as arias in various cantatas.
The aim of this recording is to offer a series of transcriptions that were originally written for instruments other than the organ. The transcribers include Bach himself, contemporaries of him, two 19th century composers: Alexandre Guilmant and Robert Schaab, a pupil of Mendelssohn, ending with the present organist, Stefano Molardi himself.
Stefano Molardi is a “renaissance man”, organist, harpsichordist, scholar, historian and writer. He recorded extensively: the complete organ works by J.S. Bach, organ works by Bach family members, complete organ works by Kuhnau and other repertoire. His playing is clear, crisp, free and rhythmically vibrant. His recordings received 5 star reviews in the international classical magazines. Played on the Johann Nepomuk Holzhey (1797) organ at the Neresheim Abbey, Baden-Württemberg, Germany, the specifications of which are included in the booklet.
Aguilera de Heredia: Organ Music / Del Barco Daz
Recorded at the only extant Spanish organ dating from the time of Aguilera de Heredia (16th century)
The booklet contains liner notes by the artist about the composer and works, a biography of the artist, and information about the organ including a stop list
Sebastián Aguilera de Heredia has gone down in history of Spanish music as one of the most important figures of the transition from the Renaissance to the Baroque, comparable to the Dutch composer Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck (1562-1621), who was his contemporary. His style reflects the polyphonic tradition of the Spanish Renaissance combined with elements of the early Baroque, thus forming the bridge between Antonio de Cabezón (1510-1566) and Francisco Correa de Araujo (1584-1654), the most important exponents of the organ school in Spain in the Renaissance and the Baroque respectively.
Aguilera adopts a style in which the serious counterpoint of vocal polyphony, of which he was an accomplished master, is infused with elements from popular music and dance forms and rhythms.
Played by Miguel del Barco Díaz, a specialist in early Spanish organ music, on the only surviving historic organ from the time of De Heredia, the Renaissance organ of Santa María de Garrovillas de Alconétar, Cáceres, Spain, the technical specifications of which are included in the booklet.