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The Secret Of Dvorak's Cello Concerto / Vogler, Et Al
Jan Vogler is a young cellist from Berlin who studied with Peter Vogler, Josef Schwab, and Heinrich Schiff. He became principal cellist of the Dresden Staastkapelle at the age of 20, leaving in 1997 to pursue a solo career. His instrument is a 1712 Joseph filius Andrea Guarneri. He has a major reputation in Europe—he won the German equivalent of a Grammy Award as Best Instrumentalist of 2002—and several recent appearances in New York have drawn favorable reviews. He appears as soloist on 15 Berlin Classics CDs; his 2003 Korngold and Barber concertos, with Thomas Sanderling and the Saarbrücken Radio Symphony, cut much of the saccharine and raise those works well above mere respectability. This is his third recording for Sony, following a disc of works by Richard Strauss (Don Quixote and Romance for Cello and Orchestra with Staastkapelle Dresden, plus the Cello Sonata) and one of the Fauré and Schumann piano quintets with Louis Lortie. Neither has ever been available in America.
Angelica Kirchschlager is the latest in the series of great mezzo-sopranos of our era. She has a seamless, easily produced voice, faultless technique that never draws attention to itself, and great feeling for many musical styles. It speaks well of her confidence that she agreed to play second fiddle on this disc. Her Gypsy Songs (sung in German) are so fine that I wish she had sung all seven, but Mr. Vogler’s playing is equally wonderful. Mr. Deutsch gets to show his stuff in the brilliant, complex accompaniments, Foster not having offered him much of a challenge.
Having disposed of the hors d’oeuvres, we can now attack the main course. After the opening phrase, the Cello Concerto’s orchestral introduction is so high-spirited that one wonders if a cello will be able to match it. In the second theme, Philip Myers’s solo horn (the Philharmonic’s full roster appears in the booklet) could wring tears from a stone. The cello entrance is equally strong; Vogler’s lean, clean sonority shines through. Throughout the performance, the athletic side of the music is to the fore; emotion is not short-changed, but the work never falls prey to the over-ripe sentimentality common to most recordings. A best single word to describe this performance would be invigorating. The obvious comparison is with Yo-Yo Ma, playing with the same orchestra in the same hall, for the same label. It’s not that Vogler is a better cellist (only God and Feuermann?), but he has an exuberant personal style, as does conductor David Robertson; they throw themselves into the music wholeheartedly. Ma’s playing is more inhibited—no, that’s not quite the right word—more self contained. His conductor Kurt Masur fits the same mold, being a product of conservative German musical tradition.
The recorded sound is gorgeous. The recording took place in Avery Fisher Hall on December 6, 2004; the orchestra kindly allowed me to attend the morning session (the first movement), and the troublesome venue never sounded so rich and alive. With no audience (I was surrounded by 2,741 empty seats) nor any artificial damping materials, as were used at some Columbia sessions in the Bernstein era, the music surged through the hall, vibrant and forceful. On the recording, ff climaxes do turn slightly hard, a common fault of this hall, but that’s a minor blemish on an otherwise stunning achievement. Vogler’s lean, forward tone makes its presence felt at all times, as it did in the hall, so it does not depend on electronic assistance. Kudos to producer Andreas Neubronner! After 50 minutes of rehearsal and audio adjustments, the opening Allegro was set down in one complete take and another broken into three sections. One wishes Sony had issued an SACD recording here; why is it no longer supporting its own medium? Vogler’s aforementioned Don Quixote is a Sony surround-sound hybrid SCAD “only available outside the US market,” according to www.highfidelity.net.
This CD bears the title: “The Secrets of Dvo?ák’s Cello Concerto,” which relates to two interviews in the program notes between Michael Beckerman, chair of New York University’s Department of Music and a specialist in Czech music, and cellist Jan Vogler. They do explore some interesting areas and provide some valuable information, but I find most of it to be hype, pursuing the question of whether the death of Dvo?ák’s love Josefina Kounicová (whose sister Anna he married, à la Mozart) has relevance to our understanding of the Cello Concerto. Here’s a basic point on which I disagree: Beckerman writes “Telling musical stories in one way or another was Dvo?ák’s stock in trade at this time in his career” (the Cello Concerto followed the “New World” Symphony, was contemporary with his final two quartets, in G Major and AI Minor, and preceded the four tone poems after Erben ballads). The statement is too vague and too hedged to contradict, but I feel it misrepresents the composer, and the following 16 pages of argument are based on it. If we examine Dvo?ák’s œuvre, most observers agree that his best works are his instrumental and orchestral ones, not his operas, which, in spite of containing much wonderful music, fail just because he was not much of a story teller. His lovely songs depend primarily on their luscious melodies. The Cello Concerto speaks to me as an instrumental and orchestral masterpiece, and to hell with its composer’s love life. Those interviews form the entire program notes, their 17 pages denying us a single word of song texts. If Dvo?ák was such a story teller, why not let us read some of his stories? Texts would have been especially welcome for the songs played by the cello. Perhaps what I dislike most is Sony’s view that every disc these days must have an Album Concept, as if Dvo?ák, Jan Vogler, and the New York Philharmonic were not enough.
Arkivmusic.com lists 102 entries under Dvo?ák’s Cello Concerto, by 38 soloists; many are duplications and/or reissues, so the number of performances is probably about 50. I’ve heard perhaps half that many, and this new one is my favorite. It should not be a serious collector’s only recording, of course; I’ve kept at least seven others: Casals/Szell (pace Bernard Jacobson), Starker/Dorati, Rostropovich/Talich, Ma/Masur, and three Feuermanns.
FANFARE: James H. North
Four Visions of France: French Cello Concertos / Müller-Schott
It is not by chance that luminous textures and sensual orchestral colors are considered essential features of French music. Its history features great names renowned for their art of instrumentation and sensitive use of timbres, who include the composers of the cello concertos on this recording: Camille Saint-Saëns, whose instrumentation technique always combines color with transparency, Édouard Lalo, who was highly esteemed by Claude Debussy for the wealth of color in his works, and Arthur Honegger, who painted striking soundscapes not only in his Cello Concerto but in his works without a large orchestra as well. Often it is the fine shadings and delicate transitions that characterize the tone colors of French music and are responsible for its delightful charm. Daniel Müller-Schott – Opus Klassik award winner 2019 – appealingly combines five works from the French sound kaleidoscope on his newest album with the DSO Berlin and Alexandre Bloch 'Four Visions of France’.
REVIEWS:
In every way, this is an impressive CD. It contains first-rate performances in excellent sound and has a most appealing programme. Included is a handsome booklet with photos and more than adequate notes on the works and artists. There is simply no reason to hesitate in adding this to your collection, if you are a cello aficionado.
-- MusicWeb International
After more than two decades in the spotlight, a still boyishly handsome Daniel Müller-Schott rightly remains one of the world’s foremost cellists, and a personal favorite of mine. He turns his attention here to chestnuts of the French repertoire, with most felicitous results.
The Saint-Saëns is of course the heavyweight entry in terms of standard repertoire status. Müller-Schott is on a plane with the work's finest exponents, giving a brisk and authentically French rendition, light and yet with dramatic flair. Equal credit in this regard is due to conductor Alexandre Bloch, who elicits an echt Gallic sound from the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin. Much the same can be said of the other works featured here.
The recorded sound is excellent, the booklet notes (supplemented by artist bios) brief and to the point. This is a well thought out and beautifully realized release; strongly recommended.
-- Fanfare (James A. Altena)
Müller-Schott plays Saint-Saëns’ bravura test piece broadly in the opening Allegro, playfully in the Allegretto, and energetically in the closing Allegro. Later the Romance in F Major is tenderly executed by Müller-Schott. By contrast, the cellist’s take on the Élégie of Gabriel Fauré is all gentleness. His mining of the early 20h century sound in Arthur Honegger’s Cello Concerto bespeaks boldness and incisiveness.
When it comes to Édouard Lalo’s less-French than most work among those of his contemporaries: the Cello Concerto in D Minor, Müller-Schott embraces the grandiose, quasi-Wagnerian music with no small measure of impassioned fervor. Throughout all of the works featured in this interesting album, the soloist and his colleagues from the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin play with commitment and unimpeachable style.
–Rafael's Music Notes
Louis Spohr: String Quartets (Complete), Vol. 17
However, original touches leap out, such as the Op. 30 Menuetto’s full-bodied pizzicato accompaniments, and the D minor Variations’ ingenuous yet formidably difficult figurations. In fact, the long Op. 61 opening Allegro might be described as a violin concerto that gives no respite whatsoever to the soloist! The Moscow Concertino Quartet doles out plenty of warmth and expressive nuance in the way of vibrato and portamento, although the rather grainy sonics exaggerate the ensemble’s timbral stridency in loud passages and occasional intonation problems. Still, the performances’ virtues largely outweigh the drawbacks: sample the well-controlled transitions and sustained soft playing in the lengthy yet consistently interesting Op. 30 finale to hear the Moscow musicians at their best. Self-recommending to Spohr fans.
-- Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com
Maurice Ravel - Ses amis et ses interprets
The three finest recordings of Ravel's string quartet I have heard are the one the Galimir String Quartet recorded in 1934, the one Galimir recorded in 1983 for Vanguard, and this performance from 1927 by the International String Quartet approved in all its particulars by Ravel and, chronologically, the first to be committed to discs. There are some intonation problems from cellist Herbert Withers in the third movement and the surfaces are not silent, but the fervor and the depth of emotional involvement are such as to override such reservations.
Ravel himself preferred the Pavane to be taken very slowly—as Koussevitzky recorded it in 1947—but Pierné's performance from 1929 was the slowest to appear during the composer's lifetime. Albert Wolff's recording of La Valse, while not the equal of later performances by Monteux and Ansermet, certainly can hold its own among them and its sheer elegance and poetry manifest the gentle approach the composer preferred. There is sufficient Ravel material to fill yet another compact disc and we can hope it will appear in time. William Malloch who did the transfers for this release also wrote the exemplary notes.
-- Jon Tuska, FANFARE [3/1993]
Bach: Sonatas And Partitas Bwv 1001-1006 / Frank Bungarten
So what are the differences besides the instrumentation? Of the three, Galbraith generally chooses the swiftest tempos, which when combined with his cello-like performing posture alludes more to the way we're accustomed to hearing the works performed on violin. Galbraith obviously is familiar with the capabilities of this instrument of his own invention--enough to describe his set as the most "virtuosic" of the three. Smith's acount has much going for it too. For one, Smith's is the most historically informed cycle, since he performs on a copy of a period lute, and this often-intimate music admittedly benefits from its almost clavichord-like sound. Smith's performances also are the less mimetic of the three, in the sense that he seems to be interested less in imitating what a violin can make of this music and more with what a lute can. In turn, Smith also takes many more liberties than Galbraith and Bungarten. Listen, for example, to the way he enters the first sonata BWV 1001. Rather than simply imitating the violin's sharp rise, he begins quietly, slowly allowing the integrity of each string to be heard as only a plucked instrument can.
Which now brings us to this MDG set. Frank Bungarten is a fine guitarist whose transcriptions fastidiously attempt to "let the music speak for itself"--meaning that the only liberties he takes are technical ones that make it possible for this violin music to be performed on a guitar. Listen for instance to the way he articulates the final Allegro of Sonata No. 2. Here Bungarten's imaginative use of note for note chordal progressions sustains the dance with remarkable clarity. Equally impressive is Bungarten's clever use of shading and dynamics, particularly in the Tempo di Borea movement of Partita No. 1. The elongated lines that establish the opening theme are given more than enough emphasis without sacrificing any of the quieter intricacy of the inner details.
Bungarten's deft, expertly executed performances certainly are the most straightforward--which is not to say uninflected--of the group. I'm sure that most of us already have at least one recorded cycle of Bach's sonatas and partitas performed on violin. I'm equally sure that far fewer listeners possess one of these fine sets of transcriptions. It's a pity, because to hear this music rethought and applied by such capable musicians as Galbraith, Smith, and Bungarten truly heightens the miracle of it. MDG's sound and overall presentation are as fine as ever. Bungarten also provides informative notes in the multilingual booklet.
--John Greene, ClassicsToday.com
Schumann: The String Quartets / Engegard Quartet
All three quartets are in four movements, with Schumann striving to write pure music rather than any idea of programmatical music such as he employed in his Spring Symphony of the previous year, the result being beautiful examples of his art. The opening of the A minor Quartet reminds us that whilst he had studied the quartets of his great predecessors, Bach’s ‘48’ was never too far from his side, with its richly contrapuntal first theme a sort of homage to his hero. In the F Major Quartet, the opening slow introduction to the first movement leads into the first main theme that dominates the whole movement and almost pushes the second theme into the background. I particularly like the second movement which is a set of variations based upon the Larghetto from his Albumblätter of 1832. The Quartet in A Major is my favourite of the three and once again begins with a slow introduction, but here the it presents the music that will be developed later into the main theme of the movement. The final two movements are linked in the way that Schumann employs the dotted rhythm from the Adagio molto and develops it in the Allegro molto vivace to underpin the music of the rondo, the only time he uses a rondo as a finale in his chamber music, with its gavotte-like final theme or episode being an apt finale to Schumann’s quartet output.
I have greatly enjoyed the performances of the Engegård Quartet, they have a drive and enthusiasm that is infectious; these are performances that firmly place them near the top in my collection and well ahead of some highly respected and much vaunted performances including the Zehetmair Quartet (472 169-2) and the Melos Quartet (423 670-2) which was the performance through which I got to know the works back in the early 1990s. Their performance is a little brisker than my favourite performance by the Eroica Quartet (HMU 907270), whose period performance wins through for me, but when it comes to a modern version this has quickly become my favourite recording. This is helped by an excellent recorded sound and very good and informative booklet notes.
– MusicWeb International (Stuart Sillitoe)
Jones: Brass Quintet "Quinquifed"
Fiery And Sublime: The Sources Of Quantz's Inspiration
The booklet note to this CD, by Brian Berryman, leader of La Ricordanza, tells us that one of Quantz’s obituarists (unnamed), described his flute-playing as “learned, fiery and sublime”. When Charles Burney met the elderly Quantz in Berlin, an encounter he reported in The Present State of Music in Germany, the Netherlands, and United Provinces (1773), he liked the man, describing him as “an intelligent man”, who “talks well concerning music”. He added, however, that “talking and composing are different things” and confessed to finding his music “frequently common and insipid”. “Fiery and sublime” or “common and insipid”?
There certainly isn’t anything here that seems worthy of the epithet “sublime”; perhaps the German “erhaben” has other overtones of which I am ignorant? Nor would I want to dismiss any of Quantz’s work on this disc as “common” or “insipid”. “Fiery”, however, wouldn’t be too bad a description of some of the writing - and here, some of the playing - in the fast outer movements of the two pieces by Quantz which are played with great vitality by La Ricordanza. Those two pieces are coupled with one each by four other composers: Leclair, C.P.E. Bach, Johann Gottlieb Graun and Michel Blavet. Samples of their work are here because one of the aims of the disc is to illustrate what its subtitle describes as “the sources of Quantz’s inspiration”.
Quantz was one those composers who achieved something more-or-less individual through synthesis rather than through startling originality. The point is implicit in something else that Burney says about Quantz, in comments based both on his conversations with the composer and on Quantz’s own Memoirs. Burney records how Quantz had benefited from his friendship with Johann Georg Pisendel. “Pisendel”, writes Burney, “had in his youth been taught to sing by the famous Pistocchi [one of the great castrati], and had received instructions on the violin, from Torelli; however, having travelled through France and Italy, where he had acquired the peculiarities in the taste of both countries, he so blended them together as to form a third genus, or mixed style of writing and playing, which was half French and half Italian. Influenced by his example, Quantz declares, that he always preferred the compound style, to the national one, or that of his own country”. Quantz himself made a kind of musical Grand Tour between 1724 and 1727, visiting Italy, France, England and the Netherlands, learning acquisitively along the way – he certainly encountered Blavet in Paris in 1726 and Leclair in Turin in the same year; Graun and C.P.E. Bach he knew, naturally, in Berlin.
The concerto by Quantz which opens the disc - and of which this is the first ever recording - has some fair Italianate fire in its opening allegro di molto and its closing vivace di molto, both movements played with appropriate panache by Brian Berryman, very well supported by the remaining members of La Ricordanza. The intervening movement, marked ‘Grave ma con affetto’ makes one feel sure that Quantz had listened to some of the strikingly expressive music of the younger C.P.E. Bach. Quantz’s Sonata in C major - if it is by Quantz, there being some doubt about the attribution - is unusual in its use of both transverse flute and recorder as solo instruments. It is an attractive and engaging piece, in which the brilliant articulation of the recorder contrasts effectively with the softer, broader tone of the flute. At times it sounds like a version of the frequently claimed antithesis between the vivacity of the Italian manner and the more sentimental idiom of the French!
Graun’s Concerto for recorder is amiable enough without making any very striking or, I suspect, memorable impression on the listener. Burney, evidently in a grumpy mood, dismissed Graun’s compositions as “languid” – and this isn’t, it has to be said, one of the compositions one would call as evidence in rebuttal of the charge. There’s no danger of sublimity here or, indeed, of very much fire. I suspect that Annette Berryman makes about as much as can reasonably be made of the piece. The Sonata by Leclair is altogether more interesting, not least for the beautiful Sarabande which forms its brief third movement and for the inventive allegro assai which follows it. Blavet’s Concerto is an interesting piece, its outer movements thoroughly Italianate and each involving a technically demanding cadenza both of which Brian Berryman negotiates admirably. The central slow movement is made up of two gavottes, in which the musical inflections are just as thoroughly French.
The Trio Sonata by C.P.E. Bach effectively steals the show. Report has it that it was first written when the composer was seventeen, before being revised around 1747 when Bach was in his early thirties, in Berlin alongside Quantz and Graun. The music takes more risks than Quantz or Graun were ever willing to take and, both melodically and harmonically it speaks with a greater individuality than either of the senior Berlin composers could regularly achieve. This isn’t just a matter of Bach being more stylistically advanced - historically speaking - than Quantz and Graun; he is simply possessed of a greater originality of musical mind. Where Quantz was a very effective synthesiser of musical idioms, Bach was something like the creator of a new one.
For anyone interested in the chamber repertoire for flute in the eighteenth century this should be informative and enjoyable listening. Since the playing is exemplary and the recording quality outstanding it can, however, be warmly commended to more than just those with a specialist interest.
-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International
Holmboe: String Quartets, Vol. 1 / Nightingale String Quartet
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REVIEW:
Vagn Holmboe’s 20 numbered string quartets constitute one of the 20th century’s most substantial and rewarding bodies of work in the genre. Collectors have come to know these compositions largely through the Kontra Quartet’s complete recorded cycle on Dacapo. The label now launches a new Holmboe project with the young Nightingale Quartet, whose Rued Langgaard quartet cycle set reference standards. In every way they match the Kontra’s technical polish, ensemble discipline, and textual integrity. Yet their interpretations sometimes differ.
For example, the Nightingale’s leaner spelling out of the gorgeously dense chords in the third-movement introduction of the First quartet contrasts to the Kontra’s massive and fuller-bodied impact. On the other hand, the second movement’s slithery Presto passages gain from the Nightingale’s faster tempo and lighter articulation.
Although the Third quartet’s five-movement “arch” form (slow-fast-moderate-fast-slow) owes an obvious debt to Bartók’s own Third quartet, Holmboe’s somewhat sunnier harmonic language goes its own way. It’s a toss-up between the Kontra’s intensely expansive, dynamically varied opening Lento and the Nightingale’s cooler temperament, brisker pace, and precisely calibrated attacks and releases. Some listeners may prefer the Nightingale’s supple scampering in the Allegro assai to the Kontra’s slightly heavier reading, yet the latter’s broader tempo allows the occasional “droning” bass lines to resonate more effectively.
My colleague David Hurwitz describes Holmboe’s late quartets as more complex but also more personal and concentrated, and that’s especially true of his three-movement No. 15. The Kontra’s slower unfolding of the fourth-movement introduction conveys a sense of mystery and otherworldliness that I feel digs deeper than the Nightingale’s drier reserve. But once the Allegro kicks in, the Nightingale’s gaunter, crisper approach better enlivens Holmboe’s knotty contrapuntal writing.
If this first volume is any indication, the Nightingale Quartet Holmboe cycle will complement rather than supersede the Kontra Quartet, and that’s all to our advantage. And to Holmboe’s advantage, of course!
– ClassicsToday (Jed Distler)
Mozart: Divertimenti No 11 & 17 / Muller-Bruhl, Cologne CO
Helmut Müller-Brühl remained active until shortly before his death in January 2012. These Mozart divertimenti, recorded in mid-September 2011 may well be the last recordings he made. His legacy—mainly in baroque and early classical repertoire, from the days of LP on Nonesuch and, if I’m not mistaken, on Turnabout and the Musical Heritage Society, all the way up to practically the present day, primarily on Naxos—is a long and distinguished one. Yet for all his many fine recordings of composers who were near contemporaries of Mozart, such as the two Haydns, Josef and Michael, Franz Anton Hoffmeister, and Ignace Pleyel, Müller-Brühl seems not to have committed much Mozart to disc. That makes this new Naxos release of the conductor leading two of Mozart’s divertimenti especially welcome.
As a musical genre, the divertimento is but one member in a family of interbreeds that included the serenade, cassation, and notturno. All shared a common origin and purpose in music that was intended to entertain guests and lubricate the gossip at various social gatherings and functions. A modern-day equivalent might be the string quartet hired to play in the background at a garden party. Everyone hears it and knows it’s there, but no one really listens or pays much attention to it. The serenade was typically performed outdoors. The notturno, as its name implies, was an after-dinner evening piece, possibly played on a balcony or veranda. The meaning of cassation is unclear, but Mozart often referred to his divertimenti as such, the term, possibly being derived from the German, Gasse , and suggesting street or alley music.
There was no fixed form or number of movements to any of these pieces, but in the hands of Mozart, not only did some of his serenades and divertimenti take on a much more serious tone, they rendered the distinctions between these composition types even more meaningless than they already were. You have, for example, Mozart’s great Divertimento in E?-Major for violin, viola, and cello, K 563, which, if not for the fact that it’s in six movements, would probably have been cataloged as a string trio. Then there’s the Serenata notturna , K 239, a work in three movements for double string orchestra and timpani, which seems to elude classification and which may be why Mozart’s father, Leopold, put this hybrid title to the manuscript. In order of composition, Mozart’s next serenade is the “Haffner,” K 250, a big, celebratory score in eight movements, written for his sister’s prenuptial festivities. Three of its movements feature a violin soloist, partially lending the work the feeling of a concerto. And then, of course, there’s the serious side of Mozart’s serenading, the “Gran Partita” Serenade, K 361/370a, a score in seven movements for 12 wind instruments plus string bass.
Gradually, it seems that both serenade and divertimento more or less merged into an entity that settled on six movements containing two minuets and, in many cases, an opening march that was reprised in the concluding movement. The musical content, however, still varied widely from light, even frivolous, entertainment fare to weightier, more serious matter.
The two divertimentos on this disc both exhibit the above-mentioned six-movement layout with two minuets, but K 251 is of the lighter, amusement type, containing a rondeau movement and ending with a march. And while it’s hardly a trifle at nearly 26 minutes in length, it’s dwarfed by the more serious-minded K 334, which is almost twice as long at 48 minutes and much more thoroughly worked out. The contrasts in length, placement of movements, and musical content between these two works are evidence of how loosely—or freely, if you prefer—these types of compositions were titled and categorized.
Apart from the later Musical Joke , K 522, and the previously mentioned String Trio, K 563, the D-Major Divertimento, K 334, of 1779–1780 is the last of Mozart’s scores to bear the title “Divertimento.” It’s also the most extended and formally developed. Yet surprisingly, perhaps, is that it’s more modest in terms of orchestral scoring than the earlier D-Major Divertimento on the disc, calling for only two horns and strings. K 251, dated 1776, adds an oboe to the ensemble.
Helmut Müller-Brühl and the Cologne Chamber Orchestra were made to play this music. Not even the most steadfast devotee of period-instrument performance could fail to be delighted by these performances. The Allegro s bubble and bustle with high spirits, while the slower movements capture the music’s sweetness, charm, and grace without surrendering to cloying sentimentality.
While Müller-Brühl may not have been one of the earliest pioneers in the historical performance movement, not all readers may know that for 10 years, from 1976 to 1986, the Cologne Chamber Orchestra he led also played and recorded on period instruments under the name Capella Clementina, and thus, both conductor and orchestra members gained inestimable experience in period practice which they applied to their post-1986 performances on modern instruments. This recording is a fruit of that familiarity with and understanding of Classical period performance practice and style.
Recent recordings of these works on modern instruments are not plentiful. In fact, unless one goes back to the mid 1980s and to Marriner’s five-disc Philips collection of the divertimenti with the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, or to the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra’s four-disc Deutsche Grammophon serenades and divertimenti collection, which doesn’t include K 334, there aren’t that many more recent modern instrument versions to choose from. No matter; for these performances by Müller-Brühl and the Cologne Chamber Orchestra are spot-on, and at Naxos’s budget price, practically a steal. Very strongly recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Polish Violin Concertos / Plawner, Bruns, Kammersymphonie Berlin
The works on this recording were written by four roughly contemporary Polish composers who settled and pursued their careers in different parts of the world. Grayna Bacewicz's first Violin Concerto displays her own glittering virtuosity as a performer, while Alexandre Tansman wrote his Baroque-infused Five Pieces for the great Josef Szigeti. Michal Spisak considered his neo-classical Andante and Allegro to be "a little story for violin and orchestra", while Andrzej Panufnik's wide-ranging Violin Concerto became a "pilgrimage into my past" and is richly suffused with Polish atmosphere.
Review:
There are four rewarding works to be discovered on this disc, although only two of them are technically concertos. Andrzej Panufnik's Violin Concerto, written in 1971 and recorded in concert in 2014 by ?ód?-born violinist Piotr P?awner, the Kammersymphonie Berlin and conductor Jürgen Bruns. The second movement, with its seemingly endless lines of melody, reminds us that the concerto was written for Yehudi Menuhin and his famous nonstop vibrato. P?awner does those long lines justice here, before wrapping up the piece in a spiky, frenetic Polish dance.
– Guardian
Westminster Choir At Spoleto Festival U.s.a. / Flummerfelt
lib
bklt, tc omit rec dates
Resolicited 05/07/02 Allegro cat
In Tune 5/96 P.138
arg 9/96 p.262
fan 9/96 p.385
Cyprien Katsaris Archives, Vol. 8: Schubert
LISZT Hungarian Rhapsodies: Nos. 2, 3, 5, 7. Elegies: Nos. 1, 2. Liebestraum No. 3. Klavierstücke: Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Trauervorspiel und Trauermarsch. Unstern! Nuages gris. La Lugubre gondola Nos. 1, 2. R.W.—Venezia. Am Grabe Richard Wagners. Piano Sonata in b. Piano Concerto No. 2 1 • Cyprien Katsaris (pn); 1 Arild Remmereit (cond); 1 Deutches SO Berlin • PIANO 21 014-N (2 CDs: 137:51)
SCHUBERT Klavierstücke, D 946: Nos. 1, 2. Ländler, D 366: Nos. 1 (2 versions); 2–5, 10, 13. Ländler, D 790: Nos. 3, 4, 7, 8, 11. Deutsche Tänze, D 420: Nos. 1, 3, 4. Piano Sonata in B?, D 960. SCHUBERT-LISZT Ständchen. Der Müller und der Bach. Ave Maria & • Cyprien Katsaris (pn) • PIANO 21 P21 042A (2 CDs: 103:27) Live: 7/3/93
& KATSARIS Improvisation on Themes of Tchaikovsky and Wagner. BACH Concerto in d, BWV 974: Adagio
“When I heard that recording, I was afraid to play the piece again—I will not play it again”: That’s how the mature Cyprien Katsaris, in an interview with me last year, described his reaction on rehearing this scorching live performance of the Liszt Sonata, taped when he was a youngster of 22 (see Fanfare 34:5). At the time, I wondered just how hyperbolic he was being. Now that I’ve had a chance to hear the performance—which concludes his two-CD Liszt sampler—I can easily understand why he feels that way. Granted, by the stopwatch (always unreliable, but especially so in a long work with dozens of tempo changes), this 29-minute reading is fairly centrist in overall timing. But it certainly doesn’t feel centrist. Rather, the overall effect is vertiginous—passages of almost terrifying impetus made even more ferocious by the extremity with which Katsaris plays many of the slower passages (try, for instance, the way he puts on the brakes as he approaches his arrival at measure 532, or the way he stretches the fermata before the Grandioso theme at measure 600). Yet for all the brinksmanship, for all the improvisatory bravura, there’s never a sense of approximation. Katsaris’s somewhat dry tone keeps the textures clear and his unerring control of articulation and accent keeps them active, with the result that the music consistently sounds both detailed and eventful. And in part because he has such a good sense of the music’s emotional architecture (including a sure understanding of the dramatic purpose of the recitatives), the music has a consistent sense of direction. This reading may not have the intellectual acuity of Steven Hough’s or the volcanic integrity of Ernst Levy’s or the depth of Richter’s many recordings. But for sheer adrenaline, the young Katsaris is a match for Simon Barere, and for sheer imagination, he’s got him beat.
The performance is doubly effective because it comes at the end of a recital that generally offers a rather different vision of both Liszt and Katsaris. Granted, once past the deceptively pensive opening, the high-speed performance of the Second Concerto is similarly searing—especially in the brilliant cascades in the final pages. Here, too, Katsaris ups the emotional ante with his careful articulation, which gives an unusually detailed profile to the musical gestures. And here too he manages to heighten things further with his extreme contrast (try the luxury of the Allegro moderato ). Granted, too, no one is likely to accuse him of underplaying the second Hungarian Rhapsody. But most of the rest of the performances—as befits the repertoire—are notable less for their razzle-dazzle than for their acute understanding of Liszt’s subtler rhetoric.
Thus, it’s not simply that Katsaris captures (even heightens) the strangeness of the radical late scores. More than that, the recording stands out because he manages to do so without turning the music abstract or damping its remaining romantic tendencies. Thus, he fully conveys the obsessive qualities of La Lugubre Gondola I —but he does so without losing the music’s sense of motion. Similarly, there’s no attempt to normalize La Lugubre Gondola II —but there’s no loss of the passionate desperation at its core. Listen to the marvelous tonal effects (including the artful pedaling) in Am Grabe or to the tremendous control of dynamics in the opening pages of the Trauervorspiel or to the disorienting contradictions of the Second Elegy (gloriously passionate, utterly bereft): Rarely has so strong a case been made for the emotional (as opposed to the experimental) qualities of these scores.
One caveat: As Patrick Rucker rightly pointed out in his knowledgeable review in Fanfare 35:4 (less enthusiastic than mine), this is not a collection for textual purists. The most startling deviation from the written score comes at the end of Trauervorspiel und Trauermarsch . Not only does Katsaris add a sonic halo to Liszt’s stark original, but he also throws in a striking effect: Just as the final sustained wash of sound seems to be dying away, it suddenly builds a crescendo. Can a piano really crescendo on a sustained sound? It certainly sounds as if there has been some electronic intervention, but in a series of e-mails Katsaris told me that it was a purely acoustical phenomenon created by the pedals. In any case, while it’s not quite what Liszt wrote, it does (at least to my ears) fit the mood of the music.
The sound varies according to the sources, but it’s generally good, and the studio performances—all of which are new—are a lot better than that. In the Second Concerto, the orchestra provides unusually rich and colorful support.
Schubert demands a rather different approach—and on this recital from 1993, he gets it. These are, on the whole, brightly illuminated performances, dryish in tone and often impulsive (although never rushed) in tempo. Thus, while the sonata is surely one of Schubert’s grander creations, there’s none of Horowitz’s intensity; indeed, Katsaris nearly whispers the third movement, and he offers a generally sunlit account of the finale. Yet for all the clarity, there’s no lack of melodic beauty (listen to the flexible melodic curls of the second of the Klavierstücke ), of timbral sensitivity ( Ständchen is exquisite), or (especially in his collection of Ländler and dances) of succulence and wit. Katsaris’s own fantasy on themes by Tchaikovsky (mainly Swan Lake ) and Wagner ( Tannhäuser , although Lohengrin might have been more fitting) is a delightful first encore—but the eloquent reading of the Bach, with its utter purity and peace, brings the recital to an even higher plane. Not quite as ear-catching as the Liszt recital, perhaps, but well worth owning even so.
FANFARE: Peter J. Rabinowitz
Copland: Appalachian Spring Suite, Quiet City, Clarinet Concerto
This disc substantially duplicates the repertoire on an all-Copland program produced by DG with the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. However, where DG included the Short Symphony, Naxos offers the Clarinet Concerto. While the Nashville Chamber Orchestra doesn't offer quite the tonal refinement and polish of Orpheus, it basically plays just as well, and its slightly weightier, gutsier, more rustic sonority arguably suits the music even better. In the famous rehearsal disc that accompanied Copland's own recording of the original chamber version of Appalachian Spring, he can be heard exhorting his players not to sentimentalize the music: "...it's a little too much on the Massenet-side," he tells them. Obviously Paul Gambill understands this point, for he offers interpretations ideally poised between warmth and simplicity, full of those clean and clear sonorities that Copland made his own.
It should come as no surprise that, as a major musical capital, Nashville offers a large pool of excellent professional performers from which to draw, and as with its full-sized symphony, the Nashville Chamber Orchestra obviously employs some major talent, particularly among its strings. Copland's music is full of complex rhythms, often combining them with stratospheric violin writing. At such moments as the "Danza de Jalisco" from Three Latin American Sketches, or the initial allegro of Appalachian Spring, the Nashville players offer impressive accuracy of both rhythm and pitch. Quiet City benefits from some smooth-as-silk trumpeting from Scott Moore, while Laura Arden (principal clarinet with the Atlanta Symphony) turns in a masterful performance of the Clarinet Concerto. She commands a lovely, liquid tone in the lyrical opening movement (her pianissimo playing at the end is exquisite) and captures the finale's jazz elements without ever turning raucous.
The version of Appalachian Spring offered here is billed as the "Original Ballet Suite". It is not. The "original" ballet suite is the full orchestral version most familiar to music lovers, dating from just after the premiere in the mid-1940s. More than a decade later, in 1958, Copland published a new orchestration of the suite in which he returned to the chamber instrumentation used in the full-length ballet, allowing the option of a few extra strings (which I assume are used here), and this is what Naxos gives us. Gambill conducts this piece as well as anyone ever has; he's particularly adept at sustaining the flow of the slower sections without letting the music sag, and he gets an astonishingly full sound from his ensemble (listen to the focused tone of the basses when they first enter in the "Simple Gifts" variations). Sonics of ideal transparency and presence set the seal on a disc that's practically perfect from just about any perspective. [12/14/2002]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Memorial Concert For Claudio Abbado
MEMORIAL CONCERT FOR CLAUDIO ABBADO
Ludwig van Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 in E-Flat Major, Op. 55, “Eroica”: II. Marcia funebre*
Franz Schubert: Symphony No. 8 in B Minor, D. 759, “Unfinished”: I. Allegro moderato
Friedrich Hölderlin: Brod und Wein
Alban Berg: Violin Concerto
Gustav Mahler: Symphony No. 3 in D Minor: VI. Adagio
Isabelle Faust, violin
Bruno Ganz, narrator
Lucerne Festival Orchestra
*Claudio Abbado, conductor
Andris Nelsons, conductor
Recorded live at the Concert Hall of KKL Luzern, August 2013
(Beethoven) and 6 April 2014 (all except Beethoven)
Picture format: NTSC 16:9
Sound format: PCM Stereo
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: German, English, French, Japanese, Korean
Running time: 98 mins
No. of DVDs: 1
A HIDDEN LIFE - ORIGINAL MOTIO
Copenhagen Recital (Live) / Schulz, Tomidokoro
Berlin Philharmonic bass trombone player Stefan Schulz is one of the foremost exponents of his instrument. His second BIS disc, Copenhagen Recital, opens with a quartet of Russian songs, exposing the yearning, melancholic side and melodic potential of an instrument usually associated with music of a more overpowering nature. What follows is a varied program, taking in Telemann's F minor Sonata, Robert Schumann, Lebedev’s Concert Allegro, works by two living composers, Daniel Schnyder and Søren Hyldgaard, and encoring with an arrangement of Thora Borch’s 1866 song The Sky Darkens.
Castelnuovo-tedesco: Concerto No 2; Khachaturian / Heifetz
Heifetz was without doubt a uniquely gifted artist. It has been a very rich experience for me to explore these five discs, and I can do no more than give them the highest possible recommendation.
-- Gramophone [from a review of five titles featuring Jascha Heifetz]
Leonard Bernstein - A Total Embrace - The Composer
Symphony 8
Mahler: Symphony No. 2 "Resurrection"
Bach: Complete Works for Lute / Imamura
The considerable variety of Johann Sebastian Bach’s output for the lute stands witness to different periods of his life and career. This collection comprises Bach’s complete lute works, amply demonstrating his interest in its expressive qualities. These works include the technically demanding Partita BWV 1006a, Bach’s own transcription of his Cello Suite No. 5, three pieces from the St. John Passion and the St. Matthew Passion where the lute appears in an ensemble setting, and the Prelude, Fugue and Allegro, BWV 998, described by the renowned harpsichordist Wanda Landowska as “of incomparable beauty… unique amongst Bach’s works.” Yasunori Imamura is recognized as one of the most prominent exponents of lute both as a soloist as well as a continuo player, his more than 140 solo recordings receiving excellent reviews in various audio magazines, with the Diapason d’or and Joker de Crescendo awards for his recordings of Weiss’ Lute Sonatas.
Center: Instrumental And Chamber Music, Vol. 1 / Guild
Ronald Center (1913–73) is sometimes described as ‘the Scottish Bartók’. His music shows affinities with the music of Busoni, Debussy, Prokofiev, Shostakovich and Vaughan Williams.
The Scottish pianist Christopher Guild is a strong advocate of contemporary and lesser-known repertoire. Christopher’s investigation into the piano music of his homeland will continue with works by Ronald Stevenson, also for Toccata Classics. The youngest-ever winner of the Moray Piano Competition to this day.
REVIEW:
Gathered here are Center’s 13-minute Piano Sonata, 15-minute set of Six Bagatelles, and 9-minute Piano Sonatine, along with nine shorter pieces. Most are first recordings, though the Sonata has been released on both LP and CD three or four times before. One can see why: it’s a strong, well-made showpiece with cascading, propulsive allegros surrounding two idiosyncratic slow movements, the first an atmospheric nocturne that builds a long, gravel-treading melodic line into a climactic restatement introduced by a halo of arpeggios, the second a quiet, involute canon that becomes encrusted with vehement, fastsnapping ornaments before spinning up into a boldly vaulting fugue to bring this initially introverted andante to a stirring conclusion. There’s not a wasted note in this sonata, and though concise it feels “big” both in sound and scale, encompassing considerable substance and variety.
Of the shorter works some are lively trifles, though even these display Center’s penchant for tangy bitonal harmonies. Many of the slower numbers are wistful and some quite beautiful. ‘Columbine’, from the 5-minute triptych Pantomine, and ‘Larghetto’, a 3-minute singleton, are lovely miniature dream-visions. This is one of those collections where each time one listens to it, one finds more to like. And with 28 tracks, there’s a lot to like here.
-- American Record Guide
Worgan: Complete Harpsichord Music / Julian Perkins, Timothy Roberts
The organist and harpsichordist John Worgan (1724–90) was one of the most highly respected musicians in the London of his day: Handel admired his playing, and Burney described him as ‘very masterly and learned’. All that survives of his harpsichord music are a ‘New Concerto’, an independent Allegro non tanto and two collections, one of six sonatas and the other of thirteen teaching pieces, but they encompass an eclectic variety of styles and a surprising range of emotions – proud, spirited, witty, impulsive, touching, vivacious – making Worgan sound something like an English Domenico Scarlatti.
Mozart: Complete Wind Concertos On Period Instruments
This is a period instrument orchestra, so the sound is accordingly fairly gentle, though by no means hair-shirt. The upper strings are perhaps a little thinner than with a conventional modern orchestra, but with what sounds like gut strings and a minimal use of vibrato this is to be expected. In fact the sound is nicely rounded, almost sumptuous at times, and by no means cold. All of the orchestral instruments are listed at the back of the booklet, with makers’ names both modern and ancient, the modern instruments being replicas of early examples.
Eric Hoeprich is the only soloist not listed as an orchestral member, and indeed, I see him often enough wandering around the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague in his capacity as teacher, so this is no surprise. Far from saving the best until last, CD 1 of this set has some of the finest performances here, and the warm tones of Hoeprich’s basset horn or basset clarinet make for a lovely opening. The Clarinet Concerto in A major, K622 is one of Mozart’s late masterpieces – indeed his last major work, and is given a supremely sensitive if un-extrovert performance on this recording. The choice for using a basset horn is based on the instrument owned by the work’s dedicatee, Anton Stadler. This instrument has a lower range than a conventional clarinet, and the version here uses fairly recently discovered historical references to create as accurate as possible a reproduction of Stadler’s solo, right down to the creation of a new instrument replicating that shown in an engraving from a concert programme from 1794. The extra low sonorities do indeed make for an extra layer of sonority and richness which can be quite unexpected. Either way, it is a recording to cherish as well as one to put alongside old favourites for comparison.
From last to first, the Bassoon Concerto in B flat major K191 was Mozart’s first wind concerto, and despite inhabiting the gallant style of composers senior to Mozart the work is ambitious and technically demanding to soloists even today. Denis Godburn’s instrument has a soft and rounded tone whose warmth is both attractive and distinctive, and the recording is mercifully free of key rattle. Oboe soloist Marc Schachman wrote the booklet notes for this first disc, and he goes into some detail on the origins of the Oboe Concerto in C major K314, which we also hear on disc 2 in a version for flute. Historical mystery and obscurity aside, this is yet another excellent performance, with perhaps only an over-long cadenza to momentarily knock the some of the pace and energy from the first movement. The period oboe has a slightly broader, less sinewy resonance than the modern instrument, and this milder tone again makes for an attractive listen.
CD 2 is given over entirely to the flute concertos, of which the Flute Concerto in G major, K313 is arguably the finest. Sandra Miller plays a traverso flute from the period, which has a tone more akin to a recorder than the modern power-flutes we hear in orchestras these days. Unlike a recorder however, the horizontal blowing hole allows for greater flexibility of dynamics, colour and tuning, and Miller’s nicely centred tone rings out over the orchestra with fine projection and excellent intonation, making one wonder why Mozart had such an apparent loathing for the things. The Adagio non troppo central movement is a particular treat, the solo line topping the string texture while also being enveloped in it in a friendly meeting of musical lines and textures. As previously mentioned, the Flute Concerto in D major K314 is a fairly straight transposition of the Oboe Concerto in C major, if anything being given even more lightness and bounce in the flute version of the opening Allegro aperto. Indeed, the flute version shaves nearly two minutes from the oboe version, though this is partly down to cadenzas, all written or improvised by the soloists on these recordings. The Concerto for Flute and Harp K299 is justly popular, though I am sure this has as much to do with the wonderful sonorities created by this combination of instruments as with the actual musical material. Once again the soloists are beautifully balanced in the recording, and well matched even though there are no surviving usable pedal harps from Mozart’s time. The instrument used here must come close to what he would have expected to hear, with a marvellous transparency and gentle articulation and resonance played with fine musicality by Victoria Drake.
CD 3 covers pretty much all of Mozart’s surviving work for horn and orchestra. As far as absolute completeness goes we only appear to be missing the fragment left of a Horn Concerto K494a, and for that matter the Andante for flute and orchestra K315, but this is of little importance. What we do have are some useful notes by Robert D. Levin, which explains which works were written for whom, and how the score of K370b came to be re-united with itself after having been cut into pieces by Mozart’s son Carl. These performances on a natural horn do not bear comparison with the famous recordings made by the more beefy tones of legendary valve instrument players such as Dennis Brain or Alan Civil. The best period recordings I know are those of Anthony Halstead with Christopher Hogwood on Decca, which are admittedly more lively and characterful than these. R.J. Kelly’s tone is nicely rounded, and as to be expected from a well behaved classical natural horn, fairly restrained. The recording seems to emphasise the ‘damped’ nature of the instrument however, and there isn’t a great deal of contrast in the tone from one phrase or movement to the next. The famous quartet of concertos is K412, K417, K447 and K495, in addition to which we are given a version of a Horn Concerto in E flat major K370b/371 completed by Robert D. Levin in 1993. This was in the process of re-arrangement after Mozart had discovered that his soloist, Joseph Leutgeb, was unable to play the lowest notes at the grand age of 59 due to his loss of teeth. Levin has sorted out the confusion brought about by work done on the piece by Franz Xaver Süssmayr after Mozart’s death, and in any case restored the Mozart’s original intentions, “today’s hornist [not being] bound by Leutgeb’s lack of teeth.” The final track on the CD is the original conception of the Rondo K412, with the addition of faux-operatic vocalisations by Eric Dillner, expounding Mozart’s ‘sardonic dialogue’ as directed at Leutgeb, annotated throughout the score. This bit of fun is of little more than novelty value, and thank goodness the text is given with translation in the booklet. That Mozart, he was a naughty boy...
With technical assuredness and musical sensitivity from a fine set of period music specialist soloists this has to be pretty much the top of the heap when it comes to an authentic/historically informed collection of Mozart’s complete wind concertos. I’ve done a trawl for significant competition, but none of the ‘complete’ sets available seem to be on original instruments. Individual CDs can be found which do provide more impact from the music, and for those willing to spend a little more and do some searching around the Decca/L’Oiseau Lyre Academy of Ancient Music directed by Christopher Hogwood do ultimately provide more satisfaction and depth of quality in general, though these American competitors do come very close indeed. There are one or two moments of very minor orchestral scrappiness in some of the accompaniments with the American Chamber Orchestra, but nothing which will offend even professionally tuned ears too much. The horn concertos are perhaps the least inspiring of the set and more serviceable than magical, but with plenty of scholarly work invested in the preparation of all of these performances there is always plenty of fascination in hearing what must be close to what Mozart’s audiences should have heard at the time.
-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International