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Hindemith: Violin Concerto, Violin Sonatas / Frank Peter Zimmermann, Enrico Pace, Paavo Jarvi
BIS · Jul 2013SACD$21.99 -
Eberl - Dussek: Concertos For Two Pianos / Duo Tal & Groethuysen, Frankfurt Radio Symphony, Reinhard Goebel
Sony Masterworks · Oct 2020CD$11.98 -
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Boccherini: Cello Concerti & Symphonies / Bylsma, Tafelmusik
Deutsche Harmonia Mundi · Sep 2010CD$17.99 -
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BEETHOVEN: PIANO SONATAS
Hindemith: Violin Concerto, Violin Sonatas / Frank Peter Zimmermann, Enrico Pace, Paavo Jarvi
PAUL HINDEMITH FRANK P. ZIMMERMANN, VIOLIN;*FRANKFURT RADIO SYM. ORCH./P.JARVIENRICO PACE, PIANO ** CTO. FOR VIOLIN & ORCH.(1939*)SONATA FOR SOLO VLN, OP.31 NO.2,"ES IST SO SCHONES WETTER DRAUBEN';SONATA IN E FLAT FOR VIOLIN& PIANO, OP.11 NO.1; SONATA IN E FOR VIOLIN & PNO. (1935)SONATA IN C FOR VIOLIN & PN. (1939)**
Eberl - Dussek: Concertos For Two Pianos / Duo Tal & Groethuysen, Frankfurt Radio Symphony, Reinhard Goebel
The fourth album of this celebrated series continues the musical foray into the Vienna of the early 19th century with extraordinary rarities from Beethoven's contemporaries. Recorded with the excellent piano duo Tal & Groethuysen and the Frankfurt Radio Symphony, the album features the Concerto for Two Pianos by Anton Eberl (1765-1807) and the Concerto for Two Pianos by Jan Ladislav Dussek (1760-1812). The album also presents the world premiere recording of Joseph von Eybler's (1765-1846) “La Follia di Spagna” with all Instruments after the Violin Sonata, op. 5 no. 12 “La Follia” by Arcangelo Corelli. Goebel also includes a rarity by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) to the program: Gratulations-Menuett for Orchestra in E-flat Major, WoO 3. The recording proves once again that there was far more to hear for Vienna music lovers than piano concertos by Mozart or symphonies by Beethoven.
Boccherini: Cello Concerto, G. 480 & Chamber Works
Saint-Saens: Complete Piano Works Vol 2 / Geoffrey Burleson
SAINT-SAËNS Allegro after the Third Concerto. Suite, op. 90. Allegro appassionato, op. 70. Thème varié, op. 97. 6 Fugues, op. 161 • Geoffrey Burleson (pn) • GRAND PIANO 605 (53:38)
The piano works of Saint-Saëns are some of the forgotten gems in the pianist’s possible repertoire. Being that the composer was one of the finest pianists in the second half of the 19th century, not only is the music well written for the instrument, it is, at its best, some of the composer’s most finessed and engaging. The current program features pieces written throughout the composer’s career, from the virtuosic transcription of the concerto movement and the Thème varié —both written for piano contests—to the more lighthearted and neoclassical suite. In general, Saint-Saëns’s music necessitates a virtuosic technique; he requires the pianist to maintain lucid textures, careful pedaling, sparkling passagework, and meticulous attention to articulation. In general, Geoffrey Burleson does an admirable job handling all of the many inherent difficulties of this music—just a quick glance at the theme and variations is enough to scare most pianists. What feels right about this program, moreover, is that the pieces are arranged in a way that makes one feel that one is listening to a recital, rather than just a second installment of the complete piano works of this composer. (This volume is just that. The first in the series was reviewed by Lynn René Bayley in Fanfare 35:6.)
The hyper-virtuosic Allegro, op. 29, opens the program. Though Burleson becomes a bit too heavy in some instances and dry in others (a little more pedal here and there might have helped in bringing out details of shifted orchestration on the piano) one can hardly complain about such a fine reading otherwise. The suite, while lighter in mood, contains some very fine moments, from the improvisatory-sounding Prelude to the lively and bouncy Gavotte. Burleson obviously relishes this little masterpiece. The real stars of this program for me, however, are the Thème varié and the fugues. Burleson does a fine job of maintaining a feeling of pulse throughout the entire op. 97, from the simple chorale theme to the more complex figuration in the variations—double notes, arpeggios, octaves, leaps, and the like! The pianist (who is also the author of some fine booklet notes) describes the Six Fugues, op. 161, as “a suite of dynamic character pieces.” I couldn’t agree more. Though one can play them as simple academic etudes, whether studies in composition or instrumental technique, Burleson shows them to be true musical masterpieces, from the quasi-prelude first, through the sprightly and lively third, to the longest and climactic final one. Indeed, performing them as a set just makes sense here. And with performances of these fugues as engaging as the music itself, one can only hope that this release may spur more pianists to play this music. As there is little competition in this repertoire, I am surely glad to add such a fine release to my collection. If you do not know this music, go out and grab this recording. Saint-Saëns is not one to disappoint.
FANFARE: Scott Noriega
MOZART: THE COMPLETE PIANO SONATAS VOL. 3
Auber: Overtures, Vol. 2 / Salvi, Czech Chamber Philharmonic
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REVIEW:
This disc concentrates on Auber's early career between 1805 and 1829, going back to his first opera, Julie, ou L’Erreur d’un moment, where the orchestral scoring could be just for an enlarged string quartet. At the other end of the spectrum, in Fiorella from 1826, he was in competition with Rossini and requires a much more fulsome orchestra. We then move into the world of serious opera in 1824 with Leocadie. The Violin Concerto poses no major problems for Marketa Cepicka, a ‘song-like’ quality in the first two movements concluded by a suitably frolicking dance finale. The playing of the Czech orchestra is first rate for the Scottish/Italian conductor, Dario Salvi, the musicologist who is unearthing these long forgotten scores.
– David's Review Corner (David Denton)
Dvořák: Piano Trios Nos. 1 & 2 / Trio des Alpes
Dvořák’s chamber music is amongst the most extensive and significant of the 19th century, and the four surviving piano trios embody his command of the form. The first two were written in rapid succession, with No. 1 in B flat major marrying Schubertian lyricism with Slavic inflexions, serenity with joy. No. 2 in G minor is rather more classically conceived, though it shares the same formal structure as No. 1 and exudes a similar quotient of lyric beauty.
Clarinet Concertos
COLLECTION 1954-62
Andris Nelsons conducts the Wiener Philharmoniker
GRAND SONATA IN G MAJOR & CHILDREN'S ALBUM
Boccherini: Cello Concerti & Symphonies / Bylsma, Tafelmusik
But with Anner Bylsma playing two concertos, this is certainly a disc to be considered seriously. His performance of the G major work is far more appealing than that of the relatively staid Wouter Willer on the EMI disc cited above, its quick movements quicker, its slow movement slower— and played with remarkable control (you cannot hear the changes of bow) and with much poetry. And there is some dazzling playing at the very top of the instrument in the finale. The D major work is perhaps slightly more ordinary, but that vein of pathos is again much in evidence in the andante lentarello (a typical Boccherini marking, whatever it may mean), where the cello duets with a solo oboe. A record, then, that in spite of some flaws the Boccherinian will want to have.
-- Stanley Sadie, Gramophone [2/1990]
Pejacevic: Symphony, Op. 41; Phantasie Concertante / Rasilainen, Banfield, Rheinland-pfalz State Philharmonic
PEJA?EVI? Symphony in f?. Phantasie Concertante for Piano and Orchestra • Ari Rasilainen, cond; Volker Banfield (pn); Rheinland-Pfalz St PO • CPO 777418 (62:42)
Cpo, a label noted for ferreting out obscure repertoire, has outdone itself this time by digging up not just another female composer—that alone wouldn’t be so rare—but a Croatian one to boot. Heretofore, I don’t think I could have named a single Croatian composer of any gender, but now I can. Short-lived Dora Peja?evi? (1885–1923) was actually born in Budapest, the daughter of a Croatian father and a Hungarian mother, the Countess Lilla Vay de Vaya, an accomplished pianist and Dora’s first teacher. On her father’s side, Dora was descended from a distinguished noble family in Slavonia, the eastern region of Croatia. In composition, she was largely self-taught, but she did receive some private instruction in Zagreb, Dresden, and Munich. She died at 38 following complications of childbirth.
During her short life, she produced 58 documented works. That number isn’t particularly noteworthy compared to other composers who died even younger and wrote much more, but what is worth mentioning is that like another female composer, the French Louise Farrenc (1804–75), Peja?evi? competed with the boys in the arena of large symphonic, concerted orchestral, and chamber works. In addition to the symphony and concert fantasy on this disc, known and/or published works include a piano concerto, sonatas for piano, violin, and cello, and a piano quintet. During her life, her music was not entirely unknown in the music capitals of Europe; it was heard in Vienna, Munich, Budapest, and Prague.
The works Peja?evi? left behind, to the extent they were acknowledged at all, must have seemed hopelessly outdated by a musical intelligentsia preoccupied with the latest compositional novelties. It’s not just that she embraced a musical vocabulary practically indistinguishable from any number of late 19th-century Romantic composers, but by the time she came to begin her F?-Minor Symphony in 1916, completing it a year later, the era of the big Romantic symphony was on life support, or at least on recuperative leave. Mahler had pretty much seen to that a decade earlier. Last-stand efforts by Rachmaninoff, Sibelius, Franz Schmidt, and a number of others didn’t change the fact that the symphony, as inherited from the 19th century, was about to take on new forms and modes of expression in the 20th.
Peja?evi?’s symphony, like Rachmaninoff’s Second, may have been written in the 20th century, but it belongs to the 19th. It’s your standard-issue four-movement effusively romantic affair—a rich tapestry spun from strands of long-breathed chromatically enhanced melody, luxuriant harmony, and opulent orchestration. It doesn’t seem to be much influenced by the Mahler-Zemlinsky-Schoenberg axis, though perhaps that shouldn’t be a surprise considering the very complex cultural cross-pollination of Croatia’s history by Hungarian, Italian, and even Russian influences. In fact, isolated passages throughout Peja?evi?’s symphony remind me a bit of Glazunov. But there are so many other crosscurrents going on in the score, not least of which is a passage at 7:54 in the first movement that sounds like it escaped from Dukas’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice . But it quickly morphs into something that sounds like it was lifted from Strauss’s An Alpine Symphony.
If there’s any surprise at all in Peja?evi?’s piece it’s how upbeat and optimistic it sounds for a work ostensibly in a minor key. Her melodies have an almost Italianate character to them in their lithe and graceful manner, and if the title and notes didn’t identify the piece as being in minor, I’d bet the farm it was in major.
The piano Phantasie Concertante came two years after completion of the symphony. In a single movement lasting almost 15 minutes, the piece is a virtuoso vehicle that alternates between Gershwin-like bluesy harmonies and jazzy rhythms on the one hand and keyboard figuration right out of Rachmaninoff on the other. Just listen to the broad, lush melody beginning in the cellos at 6:12 and the florid passagework in the piano weaving around and entwining with it. It could have come from the first movement of Rachmaninoff’s Second Concerto. I hope someone from Hyperion is reading this, because Peja?evi?’s Phantasie and probably her piano concerto as well are ideal candidates for the next volume of the Romantic Piano Concerto series.
When you hear this piece you will wonder how Peja?evi? could have been forgotten. If the climax to the lengthy aforementioned passage doesn’t sweep you away, I can’t think of much else that will. The fact that Peja?evi? could develop, build, and sustain a musical paragraph of such length is evidence in itself that the woman could write circles around many of her peers, male or female.
Pianist Volker Banfield is stunning, as are conductor Ari Rasilainen and his Rheinland-Pfalz State Philharmonic forces. Cpo has done it again. I thought I’d already settled on my annual Want List selections, but this dark horse entry is just going to have to push another pick aside. Urgently recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Legendary Treasures - Piano Trios / Gilels, Kogan, Et Al
BEETHOVEN Piano Trios: in B?, “Archduke”; 1 in E?, WoO 38. 1 MOZART Piano Trios: in B?, K 254; 1 in G, K 564. 1 HAYDN Piano Trios: 1 in D, Hob XV:16; in g, Hob XV:19. TCHAIKOVSKY Piano Trio in a, op. 50. 1 SHOSTAKOVICH Piano Trio in e, op. 67. 1 SAINT-SAËNS Piano Trio in F, op. 18. 1 SCHUMANN Piano Trio in d, op. 63. 1 BORODIN Piano Trio, in D. 2 FAURÉ Piano Quartet, op. 15. 3 BRAHMS Trio for Piano, Violin, and Horn, op. 40 4 • Emil Gilels (pn); 1,2,3,4 Leonid Kogan (vn); 1,3,4 Mstislav Rostropovich (vc); 1,3 Dmitry Tziganov (vn); 2 Sergei Shirinsky (vc); 2 Rudolf Barshai (va); 3 Yakov Shapiro (hn) 4 • DOREMI 7921 (5 CDs: 344:47)
This impressive five-CD set from DOREMI presents a fascinating portrait of a splendid Soviet-era ensemble, whose members—pianist Emil Gilels, violinist Leonid Kogan, and cellist Mstislav Rostropovich—collaborated for more than a decade beginning in 1949. They are joined by violist Rudolf Barshai (with whom Kogan and Rostropovich formed a String Trio during the 1950s) in the first Fauré Quartet, and the horn-player Yakov Shapiro joins Gilels and Kogan in the Brahms Trio. The Borodin Trio that rounds out the set features Gilels with two of his earlier chamber music partners, violinist Dmitry Tziganov and cellist Sergei Shirinsky, both members of the Beethoven Quartet.
The least of these performances are very good and the best of them nothing short of brilliant. The “Archduke” Trio must be one of the finest on record. In the first movement development, the juxtaposition of string pizzicatos with the piano’s trills creates an uncanny, otherworldly atmosphere. When the recapitulation finally arrives, it seems not just a satisfying homecoming, but a deliverance from the outer realms of abstraction. The ensemble finesse in the Scherzo is breathtaking, while the spiritual depths of the unique Andante cantabile are plumbed with grace and reverence. The same sort of Apollonian approach that makes this reading of the “Archduke” so successful is applied to the Tchaikovsky trio, with stunning results. Even some of the most celebrated performances of this difficult work (the Rubinstein/Heifetz/Piatigorsky, RCA 63025 among them) narrowly skirt the maudlin. Here, however, the three Russians bring a sincerity and simplicity to Tchaikovsky’s every gesture, allowing his elegy for Nicolas Rubinstein to speak with eloquence, at once dignified, restrained, and heartfelt.
In the Schumann Trio, Gilels, Kogan, and Rostropovich achieve a prodigy of imaginative interpretation, all within the context of the most sophisticated and refined ensemble-playing. It is hard to imagine a more compelling conception of this impassioned score. They also approach Shostakovich’s eerily atmospheric Second Trio with the utmost conviction. The hectic second movement is a kinesthetic tour de force , while the finale’s unconventional oriental textures are deftly maneuvered to great effect.
Predictably, the Haydn and Mozart readings are less satisfactory. Generalizations are always dangerous, but perhaps it is not inaccurate to say that, prior to the inevitable cross-pollination with the West occurring during later decades through travel and recordings, Soviet musicians approached Haydn and Mozart with a prettified delicacy. The results can often sound mannered, if not downright bloodless, and light years away from what we consider appropriate late-18th century style today. One case in point is the weepy vibrato Kogan employs in the sustained passages of the plaintive Andante opening of the Haydn G-Minor Trio; another is the flaccid Allegretto of the Mozart G-Major Trio, where phrase shapes are obliterated by an anachronistic effort to achieve the late-19th century ideal of the “long line.” Despite these reservations, even the 18th-century repertoire is of historical interest: this is the way this music was played behind the Iron Curtain in the years following WW II.
The sound of these recordings is consistent with the technological resources of Melodiya (the original issuing label) during the 1950s. Most were studio recordings, but some were live performances. One can discern the improvement of equipment and recording techniques between the earliest of the performances (the Tchaikovsky Trio, 1950) and the latest (the Shostakovich, 1959). Though the sound is flattened-out relative to modern standards, balances are superb, and no detail seems lost. The accompanying leaflet contains thumbnail bios of the principal artists as well as the works and timings, but no information on the matrices (beyond photographic reproductions of the record labels) or the transfer process. All in all, fascinating performances of representative repertoire by master musicians. Highly recommended.
FANFARE: Patrick Rucker
Ravel & Falla / Tharaud, Langrée, Orchestre National de France
The music of Ravel is especially close to Alexandre Tharaud's heart. Now, in partnership with the Orchestre National de France and conductor Louis Langrée, he has recorded both the composer's piano concertos, pairing them with Noches en los jardines de España (Nights in the Gardens of Spain), Manuel de Falla's sumptuous work for piano and orchestra.
"Ravel's Concerto in G major is fresh and Mozartian in it's colours, while his Concerto for the Left Hand is haunted by dark shades and suppressed fears," says Tharaud. Both concertos were premiered in 1932. "Characteristically for Ravel, they are simultaneously unique and alike. They share meticulous craftsmanship and jazzy touches, and both evoke little automata and the ghosts of war." The cross-currents of French and Spanish culture, so evident in Ravel's aesthetic, flow though Falla's concerto-like piece too. The Andalusian composer lived for a time in Paris and became friendly with Ravel. "The solo piano in Noches en los jardines de España plays a different role from the piano in the Ravel concertos," continues Tharaud. "It blends in more closely with the orchestra, though the works share a Romantic spirit and a poignant sense of nostalgia."
Prokofiev & Shor
V2: WORKS FOR PIANO
Legendary Berlin Concert 18 May, 1986 / Vladimir Horowitz
Pianophiles who share an affinity for the legacy of Vladimir Horowitz will find this latest Sony release hard to resist. For the younger generation, this is one of those recitals the “Horowitz sensation” can still be fully appreciated as if it took place just yesterday. Following the release of Deutsche Grammophon’s ‘Horowitz in Hamburg - the Last Concert’ (21 June 1987), Sony has unveiled this legendary Berlin Concert from its archive. It takes us back a year before the Hamburg concert. Captured live and released on digital media for the first time, this is a recital that has both historical and musical values.
Horowitz made his solo début in the Atlantic Hotel in Hamburg on 19 January 1926. According to historical accounts, this event was nothing short of spectacular. The featured programme included Liszt’s B Minor Sonata, the Figaro-Fantasia, plus the Barcarolle and a number of Chopin Études and Mazurkas. Between this time until the early part of the1930s, Horowitz gave performances in Hamburg and Berlin. These included the Second Piano Concertos of both Brahms and Liszt (with Wilhelm Furtwängler and the Berlin Philharmonic), Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1 (under Oskar Fried, and later, with Eugen Pabst, also with the BPO). He made his only surviving gramophone recording from that era in Berlin on 9 June 1931 at the Philharmonie’s Beethovensaal, with Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor, Op.23 No.5. Anti-Semitic sentiment and political unrest limited Horowitz’s activities in Germany. His absence was further compounded by his notorious “withdrawal” and “returns” from the public concert-stage during the ensuing years. As a result, Horowitz did not again tread on German soil for 54 years until 1986. Three intriguing accounts by Dr. Norbert Ely, Jürgen Kesting, and Dr.Elmar Weingarten in the accompanying liner-notes recollect the experiences each of these writers had with Horowitz, focusing on how the fulfilment of the Berlin and Hamburg recitals in the latter years of the pianist’s life came to be. It was Dr. Weingarten’s first-hand memories as the Head of the music department of the Berlin Festival (1985-1990) that provided the most vivid account. He recalled how Horowitz spontaneously decided to offer an additional concert to the Berlin public at very short notice, by scribbling on the ‘dining menu of Hotel Kempinski’ the programme of what ultimately constituted his recital on 24 May 1986. Perhaps this later recital will be the topic of a future release from Sony Music, but in the present recording, listeners witness the reunion of a lost bond - the one between Horowitz and his German audience - a bond that had been severed for more than 54 years.
The first sounds on the first disc are of the audience applauding and applauding as Horowitz enters the Grosser Saal of the Berlin Philharmonie. Every recital since the pianist’s return to public performance in 1985 was a world wonder, synonymous with the acclaim received by pop-stars.
Then follows a series of three Sonatas from Scarlatti, a composer to whose works Horowitz brought ample delight and a fabled delicacy of colour on his infamous Steinway D instrument. Horowitz was however at his ideal best with the works of the Romantic composers, particularly those of Schumann, Liszt and Chopin. Kreisleriana evinces finesse and playful elegance - allusions to the world of E.T.A. Hoffmann. This masterly interpretation is both pliable and alive. The lilting dance at the centre of Liszt’s Soirée de Vienne No.6 was a favourite of Horowitz’s. Her it is played with virtuosic delight that even at the age of 83 shows that he remained in command of his fingers. This combines with a radiant and complementary youthfulness. The Sonetto del Petrarca 104 is delivered with a myriad colours and such intimacy that the fading final notes literally took the listeners’ breaths away. It was an experience that seemed almost spiritual.
CD 2 opens with groups of Russian pieces, two each of the Preludes of Rachmaninoff and Études of Scriabin. A glimpse of Horowitz’s love for the Polish dances was represented in two of Chopin’s Mazurkas preparing the ground for an elegantly majestic account of the A Flat Polonaise with its vociferous moments during the notorious left-hand octaves. Unexpectedly, the most impressive readings were saved for the very end of the recital in two of the three encores. These pieces were by far his most beloved: Schumann’s Träumerei and Moszkowski’s Etincelles. In the Träumerei, one can hear the poetic delicacy that washed away all technical impurities, while in the Etincelles, the delicate passages were equipped with a buoyancy and a tenderness that one might not have envisioned possible from the pianoforte.
Those who were able to afford the unprecedented ticket price of more than 300 marks apiece (or the discounted student price at 25 marks) to attend this recital must certainly have their own fantastic recollections to share, but to reiterate one such example from Dr. Norbert Ely who was the radio presenter during this Berlin concert, he described the recital experience as one that ‘revealed a lot of his [Horowitz’s] soul, exposing the inner conflicts of a century. One could hear that an era was coming to an end.’ The authentic Horowitz magic has been revived thanks to Sony who have captured a musician whose artistry was mellowed by age and experience.
-- Patrick P.L. Lam, MusicWeb International
LEEDS INTERNATIONAL PIANO COMPETITION 2018
Clementi: Symphonies Nos. 3 And 4 / La Vecchia, Rome Symphony Orchestra
CLEMENTI Overture in C. Symphonies: No. 3 in G, “The Great National”; No. 4 in D • Francesco La Vecchia, cond; O S di Roma • NAXOS 8.573112 (71:32)
A riddle that may be posited is: “When is a symphony not a symphony?” There are, of course, a number of possible answers, but in the case of Muzio Clementi (1752–1832), this becomes a rather relevant issue. Clementi was an important composer for the keyboard, and his duel with Mozart in front of Emperor Joseph II is the stuff of legend (as are Mozart’s less than charitable comments on Clementi’s music and performance). As a composer of orchestral works, however, the entire situation becomes quite murky. When he established himself in London at the end of the 18th century, he achieved some renown as a teacher and publisher; one only needs note his protégé John Field, who Clementi apparently abandoned while on tour to Russia, as a pupil who was to achieve important things. He did, however, also dabble in the composition of orchestral music, eventually composing an undetermined number of works even as Napoleon was ravaging Europe and finally defeated. To be sure, like most composers of the time, he had a wide range of works, and in 1787 apparently even published a couple of symphonies as his op. 18 (available on the companion disc to this Naxos release). But the late works were and remain problematic, for even though they were featured on concert programs in the post-Napoleonic era in Northern Europe, somehow they failed to survive intact, forcing the inevitable “reconstruction” by modern scholars, namely Alfredo Casella and Pietro Spada. The work of these musicologists has been hampered by a web of conflicting sources, non-sequitur fragments, and portions which have been lost to time. Nonetheless, they have succeeded in cobbling together the works featured on this disc; two complete symphonies and the torso of a third (here euphemistically labeled an Overture).
This is not the time or place to discuss these reconstructions (here done by Spada), but suffice it to say that the editions do seem musically cohesive, albeit with no guarantee that these are in any shape or form what Clementi actually intended in toto . Still, they do allow for a glimpse into his work as an orchestral composer. My only concern is the extraordinarily heavy orchestration, including trombones, which seems to give the works an overweening sense of modernity at times. To be blunt, the textures are often extremely dense, sounding like these were companion pieces to, say, the Schubert Great C-Major, and I am not at all convinced that this is what Clementi, trained in the Italian Classical tradition, was after. The brief notes state that the symphonies are “more closely [tied] to the tradition of Haydn and Mozart than they are to post-Eroica Beethoven,” with a passing nod to the latter’s obvious influence. My view is that this seems far-fetched, particularly given these reconstructions. The “Overture,” for example, has a nicely waltzing main theme foreign to Classicism, and the lyrical second theme is positively Schubertian. It is performed in a Beethovian manner, but the appearance of an um-chuck-chuck accompaniment figure places us fairly close to the world of Italian bel canto opera. It is also rather repetitive. The symphonies, on the other hand, show a wider variety of styles, much of which probably is due to the reconstruction process. The so-called “Great National Symphony” in G Major (which nation I cannot fathom) has a slow, plodding opening followed by an obvious hymn, which is then repeated. Some of the faster portions sound heroic, but then Clementi devolves into a pattern reminiscent of Rossini. The second movement, with its massive brass introduction, also features variations on a hymn, and the Finale is positively in the manner of Haydn’s London symphonies; light and frothy. The D-Major Symphony offers more depth, with a solemn, mysterious D-Minor opening that seems to create a dramatic scene, which then dissipates into an Allegro that would not be out of place in one of Schubert’s early symphonies, both in tone and texture. The cantabile is suitably languid, and the off-beat minuet in B Minor positively Beethovian. Despite the thick orchestration, Haydn returns in the rondo Finale, save for a brief B theme that I would swear is Beethoven.
In short, the reconstructions offer a pretty mixed bag, but in Spada’s defense, I will say that his works reasonably well, given the tortuous path he probably had to negotiate to get a playable, cogent score. As for the performance, the Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma does a rather nice job. The tempos seem in order and the ensemble fits well together. The sound can be a bit muddy sometimes, particularly when the entire brass corps plays together, but this may be a consequence of the microphone placement or venue (I can’t decide which). My final verdict is that if you are collecting early 19th-century music and want an alternative to the multiple Schubert and Beethoven discs out there, this might prove interesting, but one should be aware of the caveat that the question of whether all of it is as Clementi wished it to be is still open.
FANFARE: Bertil van Boer
Shostakovich: Concerto And Sonata For Cello / Sol Gabetta
Sol Gabetta is a cellist in great demand as a concert performer. If the high-end German record shops such as Ludwig Beck, Munich and Dussmann, Berlin are anything to go by Gabetta is being strongly marketed by her record label. The programme chosen this time for the young Argentine cellist is all-Shostakovich with wonderful accounts of both the Concerto and the Sonata. The Concerto recording was made at live concerts in January 2008 in the admirable acoustic of the Philharmonie at Munich’s Gasteig. The applause has been elided. On the other hand the Sonata in which Gabetta teams up with Romanian-born pianist Mihaela Ursuleasa is a studio recording made in Zurich. My disc was sent from Germany with German-only text.
The Cello Concerto No.2, written in the last decade of his life, was dedicated to Rostropovich who premièred the score at Shostakovich’s 60th birthday concert in Moscow. Compared to the first Cello Concerto, Op. 107 from 1959 this relatively underrated score is only now beginning to establish its rightful place in the repertoire. The harsh constraints of living and working under the Soviet regime must surely have helped shape its character.
In the opening Largo the cello plays virtually continuously. Right from the first bars the darkly brooding intensity of the cello is spine-tingling. Gabetta’s rich mocha-toned instrument is caught splendidly by the sound engineers. Taking the listener by surprise the cannon salvos and pounding martial beat at 3:58-4:03 is highly dramatic. From 4:31 the anguished wails of the cello are remarkably affecting. A reflective passage on the cello at 5:34 and 6:55 is developed by the orchestra into a thickly textured and deeply depressing episode. A concentrated section from 7:28 feels almost overwhelming. Coming as a welcome relief from 8:35 is a more upbeat passage. It is not long before the playful figures become restless and demanding and the overwhelming weight of torment returns. At 10:32-10:59 the percussion blows are quite ferocious and serve as an ominous warning. The pounding continues but fades and disappears into the distance. Over a rumbling and restless orchestra the cello from 12:54 with its plaintive theme tries to calm the agitation.
Serving as a Scherzo the central movement marked Allegretto is terse and highly rhythmic. A waltz-like street theme on the cello with a sardonic twist opens the movement. Horn-calls punctuate the scene together with a colourful array of percussive effects. Gabetta’s energetic playing cuts through the macabre orchestral writing seemingly intent on holding the cello back. Played continuously, the closing movement also an Allegretto, is heralded by a horn fanfare and drum-roll. Gabetta plays a languorous melody of a certain nobility that has been described as “ barcarolle-like”. Especially interesting are the unusual orchestral textures with notable percussive effects. From 4:41 the tempi shift quickly several times and take on a curious galloping quality. At 6:35 the cello theme becomes one of sadness and tender introspection - a mood that underpins the remainder of the movement. Percussion lashes against a frenetic cello line from 9:41 create a disconcerting effect and this builds to a terrifying climax at 10:52. The breathless cello writing then recovers its poise to repeat the melancholic but introspectively steely theme. If that was possible the mood becomes even more mournful with Gabetta’s cello sounding as if it was weeping. Snare drums and other light percussion effects close the score. The orchestra provide warm and positive support .
For alternative versions of the Cello Concerto No.2 I have long been satisfied with that from cellist Heinrich Schiff with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra under Maxim Shostakovich. With playing of impressive assurance the performance was recorded in 1984 at the Hercules Hall, Residenz, Munich on Philips 475 7575. (c/w Shostakovich Cello Concerto No. 1). Another beautifully played account is from cellist Mischa Maisky with the London Symphony Orchestra under Michael Tilson Thomas. It was recorded in 1993 at the Abbey Road Studios in London on Deutsche Grammophon 445 821-2. (c/w Shostakovich Cello Concerto No. 1).
The four movement Cello Sonata was written when Shostakovich still had artistic freedom. This was prior to the denunciation in 1936 by the Soviet authorities and before his fall from favour owing to the opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District. Essentially a lyrical score rather than experimental the Sonata was premièred in 1934 in Moscow by cellist Viktor Kubatsky, its dedicatee. Interestingly there have been several arrangements for viola and piano.
The two main themes of the opening movement could not be more different in character. The first is an upright elegant melody that Gabetta and Ursuleasa. It is intensified in tension and made more weighty until it becomes unruly bordering on stormy. By contrast the second theme is cloaked in lush yearning Romanticism. Gabetta’s glorious tone is outstanding and Ursuleasa revels in the long warm lines. An Allegro the second movement is a countryside romp that Gabetta and Ursuleasa develop into the manner of an excitable folk dance. Sombre and mournful in the third movement Largo Gabetta’s cello sounds as if it is sobbing. The intensity becomes heavier with the cello reaching down to its deepest register. In the skittish and scampering Rondo: Finale the piano has abundant opportunity to shine with Ursuleasa demonstrating her assurance in a number of dazzling runs. It is Gabetta’s relatively restrained cello part that keeps the merriment in check.
For both the splendid playing as well being an important music document I admire the version of the Sonata played by cellist Daniil Shafran and the composer on piano. Recorded in 1956 I have the performance on Revelation RV10017. (c/w Rachmaninov Cello Sonata). I also play often the account from cellist Leonid Gorokhov and pianist Nikolai Demidenko. This satisfying version was recorded at Champs Hill, Pulborough, Sussex in 2004 on ASV Gold GLD4006.
I was perfectly happy with this RCA Victor Red Seal recording in both the concerto and sonata. Gabetta’s cello is placed well forward and is vividly clear. I know of no more dramatic and beautifully played account of the Concerto.
-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International