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Bach: Music For Recorder & Harpsichord / Stefano Bagliano, Andrea Coen
Brilliant Classics · Jan 2021CD$13.99 -
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Casella: Symphony No 1, Concerto For Strings, Piano, Timpani & Percussion / La Vecchia
Naxos · Jun 2010CD$19.99 -
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Vivaldi: Violin Concertos vol. 10, 'Intorno a Pisendel' / Chauvin, La Concert de la Loge
Naïve · Sep 2022CD$18.99 -
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SaleLhoyer: Complete Guitar Duos / Antonio Rugolo, Angelo Gillo
Brilliant Classics · Apr 2021CD$28.99$21.99 -
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SaleMartha Argerich Plays Beethoven & Ravel / Shani, Israel Philharmonic
Avanti Classic · Mar 2023CD$20.99$15.99 -
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Haydn: The Amadeus Quartet Recordings, Vol. 6 (Berlin, 1950-1969)
Audite Musikproduktion · Apr 2017CD$30.99 -
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SaleSchubert, Maja Solveig Kjelstrup Ratkje, Benjamin Britten, J
2L · Mar 2015Blu-Ray with SACD$44.99$33.99 -
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DIVERTIMENTO K. 563
Bach: Music For Recorder & Harpsichord / Stefano Bagliano, Andrea Coen
The first half of the 18th century was a period of intense evolution for instruments belonging to the flute family, as materials (wood to metal), sizes and ranges all developed prior to the key-system devised in the 19th century. The recorder (or pair thereof) which plays the starring role in the poignant sinfonia to Bach’s Actus Tragicus of 1708 is quite different to the lambent, creamy-toned flute played by Frederick the Great and for which he wrote the trio sonata belonging to the Musical Offering of 40 years later. Whether composed by JS or his son CPE, the sonata BWV1020 has a sunny disposition belying its minor key even in the lovely central Adagio. This version of BWV1039 – originally designed as a sonata for viola da gamba, BWV1027, then transcribed for two flutes and continuo – features the dark and velvety tone of the tenor recorder in D. Unlike most other recordings of the Flute Sonata BWV1032, Stefano Bagliano and Andrea Coen have completed the first movement from the point where 46 bars are missing from Bach’s manuscript, resulting in a more satisfying, musical experience. The chorale ‘O Mensch, bewein dein Sunde gross’, as the meditative climax of the Orgelbuchlein collection, proves delightfully amenable to an arrangement where the chorale line is taken by the melody instrument, and the two instruments pick out the liveliest inner workings of the Canonic Fugue from the Musical Offering as well as a pair of Contrapuncti from The Art of Fugue (Nos. 6 & 9). Two trio works originally composed with organ in mind round out the collection, which finds Andrea Coen adroitly shuttling between harpsichord and a chamber organ. With wonderfully varied textures and a poetic sensibility to be expected from these two experienced Baroque-era specialists, it’s a Bach album to treasure.
Radecke: Piano Trios / Trio Fontane
Following our successful first release featuring symphonic works by Robert Radecke, the Swiss Trio Fontane ensemble now turns to chamber music by this composer. Radecke took up residence in Berlin in 1853 and significantly influenced the city’s music culture through to the turn of the century. He initially performed in public as a chamber musician as the second violinist in Ferdinand Laub’s quartet and as a pianist who created a sensation with his renderings of Beethoven’s last sonatas. His mastery as an instrumentalist is reflected especially in the brilliant piano part of the Trio in B minor, which not coincidentally is dedicated to Anton Rubinstein. Radecke composed the first movement quite likely while he was still in Leipzig (1853) and added the cantabile adagio two years later. However, it was not until 1868 that he supplied a scherzo and a finale to complete the work for publication as his op. 33 by Bote & Bock of Berlin. This work and Radecke’s two piano trios, about whose circumstances of composition and reception hardly anything is known, are being presented in recording premieres on this release. Along with the Fantasy Pieces op. 7, this means that almost all of the composer’s published chamber compositions, that is, three of his total of four such works of this genre, have now been recorded. This beautiful romantic music displays Radecke’s independent talent coupled with consummate compositional artistry and a fine feel for formal perfection.
Kuhlau: Piano Sonatas Op 59 & 20 / Jeno Jandó
KUHLAU Piano Sonatas, op. 59: in A; in F; in C. Sonatinas, op. 20: in C; in G; in F • Jen? Jandó (pn) • NAXOS 8.570709 (59:07)
Ill-fated Friedrich Kuhlau (1786–1832) suffered a number of life’s mishaps. The first, at age seven, was the loss of his right eye in a street accident. The second, many years later, was the loss of all his unpublished manuscripts in a fire that burned his house to the ground. But perhaps the greatest misfortune of all to befall him was Beethoven, or, more specifically, to have been born and lived in Beethoven’s shadow. Born in Germany, Kuhlau fled to Copenhagen in 1810 to avoid conscription in the Napoleonic Army. What? No 4-F exemptions for one-eyed musicians? He remained in Denmark for the rest of his life, never gaining much traction as a composer except for his Danish opera, Elverhøj ( Elf Mound ). He did, however, achieve some recognition as a concert pianist; as a great admirer of Beethoven, Kuhlau introduced a number of Beethoven’s works to Copenhagen audiences. Of Kuhlau’s manuscripts that escaped the flames and made it to publication, there are approximately 200, consisting mainly of chamber works, solo piano pieces, and enough pieces for flute to have earned him the nickname “the Beethoven of the flute.”
Kuhlau is said to have been most heavily influenced by Beethoven, and as one listens to these sonatas and sonatinas, it’s clear that he had at least the more superficial aspects of Beethoven’s early style down pat. I’m speaking here of the keyboard figurations, the harmonic progressions, and the gestural articulation. A perfect example is the Adagio e sostenuto movement of the G-Major Sonatina, op. 20/2. But here the comparison ends. Kuhlau is but a dinghy caught in the wake of an aircraft carrier. Had he lived 25 years earlier, these mostly slight works might have been seen as a significant advance in keyboard style, but he didn’t; and this is what I meant above when I said that Kuhlau’s greatest misfortune was to have been born and lived in the shadow of Beethoven. Consider that the op. 20 sonatinas on this disc are dated 1820; the op. 59 sonatas, 1824. By this late date, Beethoven was done with the piano sonata as a vehicle for expressing his musical ideas. The “Hammerklavier” and the three last sonatas were behind him.
The taxonomic division of the works on this disc into sonatas and sonatinas is a bit of a puzzler. Keith Anderson’s booklet note homes in on this very point, informing us that the three op. 59 works are often published as sonatinas rather than sonatas. The crux of the matter is that in musical lexicography a sonatina refers either to a small-scaled, modest sonata or, more properly, to a sonata-allegro movement without a development section. The op. 59 set on the disc does feature the requisite first-movement development sections to qualify as sonatas, but oddly, they are all relatively brief works and in only two movements. The op. 20 set, though called “sonatinas,” are all more extended three-movement works and, at least in one case—the F-Major—there is a short development section.
It is likely that most, if not all, of these pieces were written for students, as Kuhlau earned no small amount of his income teaching and publishing just such sonatas and sonatinas intended for young fingers. In a 2006 New York Times article I came across on the Internet (http: //www.nytimes.com/2006/07/02/arts/music/02holl.html), Bernard Holland acknowledges that “none of these sonatinas prepare the student for Beethoven at his most ornery,” and asks “Why play Kuhlau in the first place?” He answers his own question thus: “It is easy to dismiss this annoyingly perfect music as a product of mindless rote or a series of bad habits having outlived their time. But the sonatinas have their uses.” What they are, according to Holland, strike me as a bit misguided. “Really interesting composers like Haydn and Beethoven” he continues ( leaving Mozart and Schubert out of the equation —my italics), “violated the unwritten road maps with glee; but fully to understand the originality of the violators, it is nice to have a Kuhlau or a Muzio Clementi to show you just what is being violated.” Apart from the fact that the road maps of harmonic progression and sonata form were hardly unwritten by the late 18th century, what Holland seems to be saying is that Kuhlau’s only purpose is to provide us with a sextant by which to measure the degrees of deviation from true north practiced by the “really interesting composers.”
I have a rather different take on it. In the grander scheme of things, which we cannot know, it may be that neither Kuhlau nor any of the “really interesting composers” has any purpose at all, other than to afford us some pleasure and comfort while we wait to shuck off this mortal coil. Kuhlau is never less than harmonious, pleasing to the ear, attractive, and entertaining. As music, it’s a vacant sand lot, but one I’d rather trudge through than the barren dunes of some of what passes for music today.
Jen? Jandó is one of Naxos’s “house” pianists. He plays everything they throw at him smartly and stylishly. These pieces, of course, make no technical demands that a polished professional such as Jandó isn’t up to. The recording was made in 2007 with Jandó playing a modern grand piano. While recordings of Kuhlau’s keyboard works abound, the current CD appears to be the only one currently available containing these specific opus numbers. Buy, enjoy, and be happy.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Marcel Tyberg: Symphony No 3 / Piano Trio Falletta, Chuang, Ludwig
TYBERG Symphony No. 3. 1 Piano Trio 2 • 1 JoAnn Falletta, cond; Buffalo PO; 2 Michael Ludwig (vn); 2 Roman Mekinulov (vc); 2 Ya-Fei Chuang (pn) • NAXOS 8.572236 (60:51)
Don’t bother trying to find Tyberg in Grove , or in the six-volume Baker’s Biographical Dictionary , or in the 14th edition of the International Who’s Who in Music , or even in MGG ’s monumental 17-volume Personenteil , of which the volume with the Ts was published as recently as 2006. Until only about five years ago, Tyberg languished among the many forgotten names of music history, in particular among those of Jewish background who were sent to the death camps by the Nazis. Tyberg was only 1/16th Jewish, but he was deported anyway and died in late 1944 (the circumstances of his death remain unclear). But posthumous recognition is finally coming to this Austrian composer.
Shortly before he was arrested, Tyberg entrusted his scores to his friend Milan Mihich, who in turn gave them to his son Enrico. The latter eventually moved to Buffalo. For years he attempted to interest Buffalo Philharmonic conductors, among others, in Tyberg’s music. Rafael Kubelík expressed keen interest but died soon afterward. About half a dozen years ago, Tyberg’s scores caught the attention of JoAnn Falletta, and she programmed the Third Symphony with her Buffalo Philharmonic. The Tyberg Legacy Foundation was established in Buffalo at the Foundation for Jewish Philanthropies, and funding therefrom helped bring forth the Naxos recording we now have.
The Third Symphony, composed in the 1930s, received its world premiere by the BPO and Falletta on May 10, 2008, and the recording soon followed. (Falletta has also programmed Tyberg’s Second Symphony for performances on April 30 and May 1 of this year to coincide with Holocaust Memorial Day.)
The score is richly romantic, with strong echoes of Bruckner, Mahler, Zemlinsky, and Szymanowski. The huge orchestra requires quadruple woodwinds, heckelphone, eight horns (four doubling on tenor tubas), bass trumpet, contrabass trombone, two timpanists, and much more. It opens with a portentous call from a tenor horn heralding music of dark, Mahlerian angst (comparison with the opening of Mahler’s Seventh cannot be ignored). One almost immediately becomes aware that, like Mahler, Tyberg is going to use his orchestra as a vast palette of colors to play with. The second subject is as warmly romantic and gracious as the first was menacing and tortured. The D-Minor Scherzo has a Brucknerian drive and energy, thickly yet brilliantly orchestrated and with a virtuosic edge that recalls Dukas’s Sorcerer’s Apprentice as well. Shades of Bruckner hover also over the Adagio, which moves slowly and inexorably to its main climax. Its somber colors would have benefited from a warmer recording acoustic, but what is a small defect in this movement becomes an asset in the finale, a rollicking rondo whose main theme has the flavor of a saucy British sea shanty, tossed off in its initial presentation with virtuosic abandon by the Buffalo Philharmonic horns. The Philharmonic sustains the sense of high spirits and energy throughout the movement, indeed, throughout the entire symphony, though one cannot avoid the feeling that Tyberg might have left us a more convincing conclusion—the ending is simply too abrupt and unexpected.
The Piano Trio of 1936 is, if anything, even more engaging, filled as it is with big-boned, sumptuous themes and rich textures right out of Schumann, Brahms, Franck, and Tchaikovsky. Themes are masterfully worked out. One listens in disbelief to music composed in the age of Stravinsky and Satie, of Schoenberg and Berg, of Bartók and Messiaen, that is as accomplished as Tyberg’s yet so untouched by the fast-changing world around him—“as if he had truly lived a century before,” as Buffalo Philharmonic archivist Edward Yadzinski puts it in his fine booklet notes. Concertmaster Michael Ludwig and principal cellist Roman Mekinulov, joined by pianist Ya-Fei Chuang, deliver a performance that glows with passion and power. This disc is worth acquiring for either the symphony or the trio alone. Together they constitute an irresistible combination. This is definitely a Want List candidate.
More information on Tyberg can be found at Wikipedia and in an extensive article by Herman Trotter, music critic emeritus of the Buffalo News (reprinted on the website of the Jewish Music Institute). Readers are also referred to an interview in Fanfare 34:2 in which Falletta and Yadzinski disuss the Tyberg situation in some detail.
FANFARE: Robert Markow
How Marcel Tyberg's Third Symphony wound up in Buffalo is an interesting story, related in the booklet notes to this world-premiere recording. Tyberg (1893-1944) was a Jewish Viennese composer who died in Auschwitz in 1944 (as did several members of my own family--it's strange to think that they may have been there together). His Third symphony was composed in 1943, and it's a fine work, obviously in the Viennese tradition--sort of Wagner/Strauss with a Brahmsian structural overlay. It's colorful, uninhibited, perhaps a bit thickly scored, full of attractive melodic invention, and not a moment too long. For its date of composition it's a conservative work, but given the circumstances that hardly counts against it. JoAnn Falletta and her Buffalo forces do it proud: this is a bold, confident performance, excellently paced, that never suggests any unfamiliarity with what must have been a very unfamiliar work.
Tyberg's Piano Trio, from 1936, is even more stylistically reactionary, sounding like a typical example of mid-19th century Romanticism--but again, because it's the real thing and not a decadent relic it comes across simply as freshly melodious. Okay, it's not a masterpiece, but its three euphonious movements pass by very pleasingly, and like the symphony it's very well played (and recorded). Tyberg had a particular knack, both here and in the symphony, for creating vigorous rondo finales that never drag or sound tired, and if you know anything about late-Romantic finales then you know what a rare feat that is! There are many recordings of neglected composers around these days: this one deserves a greater claim on your attention (and purse) than most. It's a real find.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Ambience
Ries: Sonatas for Violin and Piano, Vol. 3 / Grossman, Kagan
Ferdinand Ries grew up in the same musical environment that nurtured Beethoven, both counting Ferdinand’s father Franz as one of their teachers and the two of them becoming the closest of friends. Ries was a gifted and prolific composer in every instrumental genre. His Violin Sonatas are based on the Viennese Classical style established by Mozart but with a freshness and originality that includes movements such as the Adagio of the Sonata, Op. 38, No. 3, one of Ries’s loveliest creations. The Sonatas Op. 38, Nos. 1 & 2 can be heard on the 2nd volume of this edition, which was “unreservedly recommended” by Fanfare magazine. Violinist Eric Grossman is a versatile performer hailed for his flawless technique, superb musicianship, and commitment to a wide range of repertoire. Grossman has performed across the US, Europe, Korea, Japan, and Cuba in recital and as soloist under such conductors as Zubin Mehta, Stanislaw Skrowaczewski, and Michael Gielen.
Casella: Symphony No 1, Concerto For Strings, Piano, Timpani & Percussion / La Vecchia
At first glance, Casella’s enrolment at the Paris Conservatoire - Gabriel Fauré was one of his teachers - and his admiration for Debussy might suggest strong links with French music of the period. However, the First Symphony, which dates from 1905, doesn’t strike me as particularly Gallic, either in sensibility or sound world; indeed, Casella is quoted in the liner-notes, where he dismisses the work as a potpourri of Borodin, Brahms and Enescu. These influences may be there, but they aren’t striking. Perhaps it’s the Italian band and conductor who are to blame, as they add a touch of southern warmth to this absorbing score.
True, the brooding start to the Lento seems Russianate, but then there’s an arresting lyricism in the strings and an orchestral blush that speaks more of Richard Strauss. As for the Roman orchestra they sound full-bodied and precise, climaxes expanding with plenty of weight and impact. Musically the score may seem a tad threadbare at times, but it’s well shaped and convincingly paced. Initial impressions suggest this is not the youthful indiscretion it first seems; in fact, the Adagio - reprised in the Second Symphony - is rather lovely. After a quiet, rather unsettling theme at the outset there are some melting string tunes - just listen to the passage that begins at 3:44. It really is luminous, heart-stopping music, most eloquently phrased.
The final movement, like the first, is a dark-toned Lento, the grumble of percussion at the start thrillingly caught. And, for the first time, there’s a real sense of nobility, a Wagnerian amplitude if you like, the muted brass simply splendid. Moreover, there’s a momentum here - listen out for that recurring, jaunty little tune - and a firm sense of purpose, which ensures that any structural weaknesses are artfully concealed. Such advocacy augurs well for the rest of this series; indeed, having heard both Noseda and La Vecchia’s accounts of the Second Symphony I can assure you the latter yields little or nothing to the former in terms of execution although, as expected, the Chandos sound is both weightier and more spacious.
The concerto is a wartime work, written while the composer was recovering from a serious illness. The soft edges of the symphony are replaced here by a harder, more muscular idiom, which includes strong, uncompromising rhythms. There’s plenty of bite to the strings, ever-present timps commendably crisp and clear, the Sarabande more lyrical - and inward - than one might expect. The piano part is carefully woven into the musical fabric, which only shows signs of fraying in the latter half of this movement. The brisk, martial opening to the final Allegro - snare drums very much in evidence - takes us back to the sinewy world of the first. It’s well played and tightly argued, the muted march coloured by the gentlest of taps on the tam-tam.
So, a most encouraging start to this new cycle which, along with Noseda’s, will surely bring this music back into the mainstream, where it belongs. It seems entirely right that La Vecchia and his Roman band are leading the charge; goodness knows, they play this music with verve and vision - and that’s just what it needs
Nice one, Naxos.
-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International
Dvorak: Symphonies No 7 & 8 / Ormandy
Here's another spectacular release from RCA Japan's Ormandy/Philadelphia edition, courtesy of Arkivmusic.com's "on demand" program. These are wonderful, truly Romantic performances featuring amazing playing, string sound that's beyond gorgeous, and interpretations that have a lot more subtlety than Ormandy usually gets credit for. The Seventh is particularly impressive, one of the finest versions available, full of tension in the outer movements, capped by a blazing coda that puts many other, better-known recordings to shame. Listen to the woodwinds cut through the full orchestra in the fortissimo counterstatement of the first movement's main theme without significant orchestral retouching; or notice the exciting transition to the scherzo's main section--there are many such distinctive moments here.
The Eighth is just as fine, and even better recorded, with more presence from the timpani and a bit more air around the instruments. In the first movement it's amazing to hear string playing with such incisive rhythm, particularly at the climaxes, and it's instructive to note how much passion this generates at a basically moderate tempo. The Adagio's exchanges between winds and strings couldn't be better timed; the third-movement waltz is, as you might imagine, the last word in sophisticated phrasing; and the scherzo-variations in the finale is a riot, with bright horn trills and, in the coda, a really vulgar (and totally apt) trumpet smear to cap the festivities. Ormandy also takes the violins up an octave just before the end, between those slashing final chords, arguably a more effective option than the Czech tradition of doubling them with horns. Hearing these performances again is like getting reacquainted with a best friend that you never should have lost touch with over the years.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
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
John Barbirolli: Complete RCA & Columbia Album Collection
The young John Barbirolli was hardly known in America when the New York Philharmonic-Symphony Orchestra chose him to be Arturo Toscanini’s successor starting in 1937. The 36-year-old Londoner’s first season was a triumph with both players and audiences, and although his years in New York would be increasingly marred by unfair rivalry with Toscanini – lured back to lead a specially created NBC Symphony – and by partisan hostility from two influential critics, Barbirolli’s tenure can now be looked back on as a real success.
From 1938 until 1943, when he returned to the UK to take over Manchester’s Hallé Orchestra, Sir John made a series of recordings in New York for American Columbia and RCA Victor which are still essential for a full appreciation of this revered conductor’s career, “performances that are as competitive today as they were when initially released” (Fanfare). Sony Classical is pleased to reissue them in a newly remastered six-CD set.
Among the treasures here are Debussy’s Iberia and Tchaikovsky’s Francesca da Rimini (both recorded in 1938) and the first-ever recording of Schubert’s Fourth (“Tragic”) Symphony (from 1939), together cited by Gramophone as “a demonstration that the Philharmonic-Symphony had few rivals in the world at the time as a recording orchestra … A forceful, high-powered reading [of the symphony] which yet has a Schubertian smile … The crisp attack in the Tchaikovsky, even tauter than in Barbirolli’s superb 1969 HMV New Philharmonia version, is thrillingly caught. The Debussy brings the most vivid sound of all, weighty and full of presence, with castanets and brass leaping out from the speakers. This is a white-hot performance, every bit as exciting as those of Toscanini, and with a moving vein of tenderness in the slow second movement.”
There are several works by Mozart, among them the Clarinet Concerto with Benny Goodman (from 1940) and the Symphony No. 25 and Piano Concerto No. 27 with Robert Casadesus (both from 1941). The Piano Concerto’s opening Allegro “is beautifully shaped with an almost palpable sense of wonder in the music and the pianist is definitely having a ball of time,” said Classical Net. “The final Allegro is also very commendable for its grand sense of pomp and majesty … The exquisite symphony also receives wonderful attention and care from Barbirolli and the NYPSO. Here one can sense the conductor's love for Mozart’s inspired melodies … Benny Goodman is a characterful interpreter of the Clarinet Concerto.”
“The generous flavor of Barbirolli’s Brahms comes through in the Academic Festival Overture and the Second Symphony [both from 1940],” wrote Audiophile Audition’s reviewer. “The Overture is rife with ceremonial grandeur and jolly spirits. The D major Symphony has a debonair airiness and bucolic relaxation about it.” And Sibelius’s First Symphony (from 1942) “should delight fans of Barbirolli’s 1960s complete traversal of the symphonies … The conductor’s warmth, vision, and emotional urgency has lost none of its appeal in the more than half century that has passed” (Fanfare).
Also from 1942 is Nathan Milstein playing the Bruch Concerto with “the Philharmonic-Symphony in tremendous form,” exclaimed MusicWeb International’s critic. “Barbirolli opens powerfully and Milstein responds in kind; not over emoted and with vibrato perfectly scaled to the demands of the music. He is really quite withdrawn and introspective in the Adagio, powerfully so indeed, and Barbirolli brings out the horn harmonies in a way that seems to reveal them for the first time. There is romantic fervour but also passagework clarity and digital cleanliness in the finale … a model of concerto accompaniment and creative collaboration.”
CONTENTS
DISC 1:
Purcell (arr. Barbirolli): Suite for Strings, Woodwind and Horns (Remastered)
Debussy: Images pour orchestre, L. 122: No. 2, Iberia (Remastered)
Tchaikovsky: Francesca da Rimini, Op. 32 (Remastered)
Respighi: Antiche danze et arie per liuto, Suite No.3 (Remastered)
Respighi: Fontane di Roma (Remastered)
DISC 2:
Schubert: Symphony No. 4 in C Minor, D. 417, "Tragic" (Remastered)
Schubert: 5 German Dances, D. 89 (Remastered)
Brahms: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73 (Remastered)
DISC 3:
Sibelius: Symphony No. 1 in E Minor, Op. 39 (Remastered)
Sibelius: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 43 (Remastered)
DISC 4:
Smetana: The Bartered Bride, JB 1:100: Overture (Remastered)
Rimsky-Korsakov: Capriccio espagnol, Op. 34 (Remastered) with Mishel Piastro, violin & Joseph Schuster, cello
Ravel: La valse, M. 72 (Remastered)
Berlioz: Roman Carnival Overture, Op. 9 (Remastered)
Brahms: Academic Festival Overture, Op. 80 (Remastered)
Debussy: Petite Suite, L. 65, No. 4 "Ballet" (Remastered)
Debussy: Première rhapsodie, L. 116 (Remastered) with Benny Goodman, clarinet
Bach, J.S. (arr. Barbirolli): Sheep May Safely Graze, BWV 208, No. 9 (Remastered)
DISC 5:
Mozart: Clarinet Concerto in A Major, K. 622 with Benny Goodman, clarinet
Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-Flat Major, K. 595 (Remastered) with Robert Casadesus, piano
Mozart: Symphony No. 25 in G Minor, K. 183 (Remastered)
DISC 6:
Bruch: Violin Concerto No. 1 in G Minor, Op. 26 (Remastered) with Nathan Milstein, violin
Tchaikovsky: Suite No. 3 in G Major, Op. 55: IV. Tema con variazioni. Andante con moto (Remastered)
Various (arr. Barbirolli): An Elizabethan Suite (Remastered)
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REVIEW:
It is surely no coincidence that this retrospective set is released in the 50th anniversary year of Sir John Barbirolli’s death. It focuses on almost all – but not quite all – of Barbirolli’s recordings with his Philharmonic-Symphony Orchestra of New York, here updated to ‘New York Philharmonic’. The missing item is the Schumann Violin Concerto with Menuhin, the rights of which now lie with Warner. The inclusion of Bach's Sheep May Safely Graze is very welcome here, and as Leonard Slatkin showed in his Bach ‘Conductors’ Transcriptions’ album, it’s a most effective and affecting piece of work.
The first of the six well-filled discs disinters Barbirolli’s arrangements of Purcell. The six-movement Suite proves memorably sonorous and full bloodied with highlights being Fairest Isle and When I am Laid in Earth. This is followed by a splendidly recorded and vividly played Iberia with the Victor engineers on top form, and Francesca da Rimini. Respighi’s The Fountains of Rome and the Arie di corte from the Ancient Airs and Dances are similarly charged.
The Schubert Fourth on Disc 2 - the first recording of the work ever made - is tremendously impressive: powerful, lyrical, excellently controlled. Brahms’ Second Symphony however is exceptionally fast – not a criticism that could ever be levelled at the older JB – and if one thinks that Monteux in San Francisco in 1945 was fleetness itself that would be to reckon without Barbirolli. The Allegretto is uncomfortable to listen to and in fact the whole performance is unconvincing on a number of levels.
Sibelius comes to the rescue in disc three where there are memorable recordings of the First Symphony (1942) and the Second (1940). Sibelius was a known Barbirolli strength but his tempi in the 1950s with the Hallé are predictably more driven than those he took in the following decade. If sound quality is king then the Hallé recordings from the 60s are preferable but interpretively the 1957 First and the 1952 Second – along with the famous RPO Second – are indispensable, along with these two New York recordings.
The fourth CD is a bits-and-pieces affair. There’s lusty Smetana, a brightly recorded but idiomatically played Rimsky Capriccio espagnole, and La Valse which faced predictably strong competition on disc from Munch and Monteux. If the string tone in Le Carnaval romain is a touch acidic, the Academic Festival Overture is more rounded, and the performance a strong B plus. Benny Goodman joins for a timbrally distinctive Debussy First Rhapsody. There’s more Goodman in the penultimate disc where he plays Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto. Casadesus and Barbirolli make a fine team in Mozart’s Concerto No. 27. Symphony No.25 completes this all-Mozart disc; athletic, youthful and vibrant.
Nathan Milstein’s excellent Bruch G minor heads the final disc and whilst the recording is not top-drawer, Milstein’s playing is. Tchaikovsky’s Tema con variazioni from the Orchestral Suite No.3 is slightly cut. Finally, we end with Barbirolli’s An Elizabethan Suite, his arrangements of Byrd, Farnaby, and Bull, a synchronous way to end given that the first piece of the first disc was his Purcell arrangement.
Each disc is housed in a retro, 78rpm album sleeve and the booklet is filled with 78 and subsequent LP sleeves – very colourful and tactile – as well as job and recording sheets from the sessions and black and white photographs of Barbirolli.
This box is a finely produced and concentrated focus on Barbirolli’s New York shellac years and comes with a fair-minded, level-headed booklet note from James H North.
– MusicWeb International (Jonathan Woolf)
Vivaldi: Violin Concertos vol. 10, 'Intorno a Pisendel' / Chauvin, La Concert de la Loge
This tenth volume of violin concertos marks the return of Julien Chauvin and his Concert de la Loge to the Vivaldi Edition, with works linked to Pisendel, a major musical figure in the court of Dresden in the 18th century. Julien Chauvin and his Concert de la Loge released a hugely successful volume of Vivaldi concertos with a theatrical theme in 2020. In this new album they perform works focusing on Johann Georg Pisendel (1687-1755), konzertmeister at the Dresden Court chapel, and pupil and friend of Vivaldi, who played a key role in the popularity of the Red Priest’s music in Dresden. It is thanks to the admiration and foresight of this eminent German violinist not only that the city possesses a considerable Vivaldi catalogue, but also that certain signed manuscripts were preserved that are to be found only in Dresden.
This album comprises three concertos composed for him (RV 237, RV 314 and RV 340) and three others copied by his hand (RV 225, RV 226 and RV 369). All the many contrasts which mark Vivaldi’s concerto repertoire – whatever the instrument –are magnified here under the supple bow of Julien Chauvin: his close bond with Le Concert de la Loge flourishes in a free, rich and diverse discourse, fiery and passionate in the external movements, and lyric or gently melancholic in the central parts. Worth mentioning among the many examples are the splendid elegiac song of the Adagio in concerto RV 237 or the delicate slow movements accompanied by the pizzicato of the strings in concertos RV 314 and RV 226.
Lhoyer: Complete Guitar Duos / Antonio Rugolo, Angelo Gillo
Among the most significant composers of guitar duos in the early 19th century, Antoine De Lhoyer was born in September 1768 in Clermont-Ferrand. His musical talents manifested themselves from early on, and he trained in Paris. His teacher Vidal paid tribute to him as ‘the finest guitarist in Europe’. However, at the age of 20, de Lhoyer embarked on a military career as a member of the King’s Guards, shortly before the French Revolution. Life in France rapidly becoming uncongenial for someone with his loyalties, he left France in a hurry and eventually settled in Hamburg, where his compositions were first published at the turn of the 19th century. De Lhoyer’s travels were by no means over, and over the following decades he took up posts as a professional music teacher and performer in St Petersburg, Paris, Corsica, Aix-en-Provence and Alger, the new capital of the French colony in north Africa. Eventually returning to the French capital, he died there in 1852, at the age of 84. The extant duos on this album were composed between 1814 and 1826, and they comprise a substantial proportion of his total output. One would expect the style of his music to reflect the lively, cosmopolitan nature of his career, and so they do, often cast in three- and four-movement sonata forms with picturesque interpolations such as the ‘hunt’ movement of Op.35 No.2 and the graceful Sicilienne of Op.35 No.5. The eight-movement Fantasie Concertante Op.33 is like a Mozartian serenade, with a superbly flowing Andante con variazioni directly succeeded by a brief but tranquil Adagio.
Lotti, Zelenka, Bach / Hengelbrock, Balthasar Neumann Ensemble
This trilogy is based loosely on the Dresden connections between the Venetian Antonio Lotti, Bohemian Jan Dismas Zelenka and Thuringian Johann Sebastian Bach. Zelenka’s unconventional Miserere in C minor (Easter 1738) is a peculiar mixture of archaic music based on a ricercar by Frescobaldi and modern proto-classical movements. Hengelbrock leaps without reticence into the agitated music that opens and dramatically concludes the work (in comparison, Fiori Musicali’s performance seems coolly refined – Metronome, 3/08). The Balthasar-Neumann Ensemble and Choir perform with full-blooded tension; Hengelbrock makes the fullest possible use of the plangent oboes and pulsating string chords but also ensures that the music-making never loses its focused precision. The abrupt conclusion leads cleverly into the sinfonia of Bach’s Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen. The famous chaconne chorus that conveys weeping is tenderly phrased; solo voices are used for the first entries only and are soon joined by the full complement of 18 singers. This is by no means unpleasant but the sudden change of gears from streamlined intimacy to a larger choral texture feels odd (curiously, Hengelbrock eschews the policy in an entirely “choral” recapitulation).
The crowning glory is Lotti’s Missa a tre cori. As Hengelbrock has proved before with his outstanding recordings of Lotti’s Requiem (9/99) and Missa Sapientiae (3/04), the Venetian master’s chiaroscuro writing is certainly not run-of-the-mill. The contrapuntal first phrases of the “Kyrie” possess extraordinary expressive quality and accomplishment, whereas the first section of the “Gloria” is an irresistible, dance-like celebration with jaunty rhythms and bold trumpet. Lotti’s controlled and sublime setting of “Et in terra pax” reveals the harmonically adventurous talent and flair for unexpected effects that evidently fascinated Bach and Handel, and some surprising choral harmonies in the ardent “Qui tollis” lifted me from my chair in astonishment and admiration for both the composer and his modern-day interpreters. This is nothing short of revelatory.
– David Vickers, Gramophone
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Unearthing unknown masterworks, such as the Lotti and the Zelenka, is something of a speciality for Thomas Hengelbrock, and it is hard to imagine a more intense interpretation of the Miserere.
Bach, Zelenka and Lotti on one disc - that seems a little odd. Bach and Zelenka knew each other as they lived and worked not that far away from each other, in Leipzig and Dresden respectively. But what about Lotti?
Antonio Lotti made his career in Venice, but was born in Hanover where his father was Kapellmeister. In Venice he became a pupil of Legrenzi. He started out as an alto singer and organist in San Marco. In 1693 he wrote his first opera, and his growing reputation as an opera composer brought him the invitation to write an opera for Dresden. Here he lived and worked from 1717 to 1719. He wasn't only an opera composer, though. When he came to Dresden he took with him some religious works he had written in Venice, and in Dresden he composed some more.
Zelenka, who for many years worked in the court orchestra in Dresden as double-bass player, copied a number of works by Lotti. Among them was the Missa Sapientiae; a copy of this mass has also been found in Bach's library. It is quite possible that it was through Zelenka that Bach became acquainted with Lotti's oeuvre. Thomas Hengelbrock recorded Lotti's Missa Sapientiae in 2002, and it was released together with Bach's Magnificat by deutsche harmonia mundi.
But there are not only historical reasons bringing together these composers on one disc. There are also some stylistic similarities between the three compositions which Thomas Hengelbrock has recorded. The main feature they have in common is that they contain both traditional and modern elements. They link with the traditional stile antico in that they include polyphonic sections. And in all three pieces dissonances and chromaticism are used for expressive reasons linking with the sung words. At the same time they contain elements which reflect contemporary fashion.
Zelenka's setting of the penitential Psalm 50 (51), 'Miserere mei Deus', is a perfect example of the mixture of old and new. It starts with an extended setting of the first verse of this psalm, which is dominated by chords in the strings in a very agitated rhythm, which are relentlessly repeated. The amount of dissonance in this section is quite unusual for the time. Next the text of the whole psalm is sung in a strict polyphonic style. It is based on an organ ricercar by Girolamo Frescobaldi, from his 'Fiori Musicali' of 1635. It is likely this was the main reason that this Miserere was received negatively. A diary of the time says: "Mr. Zelenka performed a Miserere of excessive length". It is probably not the actual time the performance took that caused this comment but rather its old-fashioned style. For a performance in the following year Zelenka added an aria for soprano which was written in modern galant style. This is the third movement, the first half of the doxology. This part is then set again for the tutti, and this is followed by the second half of the doxology. Then Zelenka returns to the opening verse. It is not a repetition of the first section, although elements from it are reused.
The Balthasar-Neumann-Choir and -Ensemble give good performances, in which the text expression comes off very well. It is disappointing, though, that the dense polyphonic texture of the second section results in the words being practically inaudible. More attention should have been given to a clear delivery of the text. Tanya Aspelmeier gives a good account of the solo part.
The cantata 'Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen' is one of Bach's most famous cantatas. It inspired Franz Liszt to one of his best-known organ works. It seems Bach also liked it: he composed the cantata in 1714 in Weimar, and performed it again in 1724 in Leipzig. The mood of the work is best caught in the accompanied recitative, a quotation from the Bible (Acts of the Apostles): "We must pass through great sadness that we come into God's kingdom".
The cantata begins with an expressive sinfonia, marked 'adagio assai'. The opening chorus has a dacapo form, and the A section is a chaconne over a chromatic bass which is repeated twelve times. It is here that the tradition comes to the fore, as well as in the scoring with two independent viola parts. The B section doesn't contain independent instrumental parts: the instruments are supposed to play colla parte with the voices - another feature of the stile antico.
Much more in line with the fashion of the time is the inclusion of a dacapo aria, 'Kreuz und Kronen sind verbunden', scored for alto, with an obbligato part for the oboe. In the tenor aria 'Seid getrost', the slide trumpet plays the melody of the chorale 'Jesu, meine Freude'. The German Bach scholar Alfred Dürr suggests Bach could have had the last stanza in mind: "Begone, mournful spirits, for the master of my joys, Jesus, is now arriving".
The tutti parts receive good performances from the choir and the orchestra. None of Bach’s expressive devices passes unnoticed. The rhythm of the bass aria 'Ich folge Christo nach' is under-exposed, though. The contralto Marion Eckstein sings her part beautifully, and so does the tenor Julian Podger, although in his aria I would have liked stronger contrast between the A and B sections. The bass Marek Rzepka is a bit bland, and there is a slight tremolo in his voice which I have noticed in other recordings in which he participated. The obbligato parts are well executed by Emma Black (oboe) and Paolo Bacchin (slide trumpet).
Old and new elements are also present in Antonio Lotti's Missa a tre cori, written for three groups, as the title indicates. This mass belongs to the genre of the 'missa brevis', consisting of Kyrie and Gloria only. The stile antico is particularly present in the Kyrie and returns in some sections of the Gloria.
The first Kyrie is very reminiscent of the opening of Zelenka's Miserere, in particular harmonically. Even rhythmically there is some similarity, although Lotti's rhythms are less agitated. In the Christe eleison the name 'Christe' is singled out. The second Kyrie contrasts the descending line and an ascending figure on the words "eleison" in the upper voices.
The Gloria begins with a dancing movement in jubilant mood, in which the trumpet participates. The next section, 'Et in terra pax', takes more than five minutes and reverts to the same kind of chords in the strings and strong dissonances we heard in the first Kyrie. The 'Gratias agimus' also begins with great harmonic tension which is then released in the second half. In 'Qui tollis peccata mundi' Lotti again makes use of fiery chords and sharp dissonances.
The most modern sections are 'Domine Deus' and 'Qui sedes'. The former is a wonderful trio for soprano, violin and basso continuo. 'Qui sedes' is scored for alto and obbligato oboe, with the lower strings and basso continuo. In 'Quoniam tu solus sanctus' the trumpet returns. Through homophony and long notes the name 'Jesu Christe' is singled out. The mass ends with a fugal section on the text 'Cum Sancto Spiritu'.
This is probably the very first recording of this mass, and it is a beautiful and highly expressive work. It is easy to understand that Zelenka and Bach were interested in Lotti's music, and in particular Zelenka seems to have been influenced by Lotti. The qualities of Lotti's mass setting are fully explored by choir and orchestra, with excellent contributions of the vocal and instrumental soloists. Only Bernard Landauer is a little disappointing in 'Qui sedes'.
Unearthing unknown masterworks is something of a speciality for Thomas Hengelbrock. Both Lotti's Missa Sapientiae and the Missa a tre cori are masterpieces - evidence that Lotti's oeuvre is well worth further appraisal. Bach's cantata is available in a number of other recordings. The performance on this disc is good, but not the main reason to commend this CD.
It is both Lotti's mass and the Miserere by Zelenka which make this disc especially attractive. The Zelenka has been recorded before, and some time ago I reviewed a recording by Penelope Rapson. But Hengelbrock's interpretation is simply superior, and in fact it is hard to imagine a more intense interpretation of Zelenka's Miserere.
– Johan van Veen, MusicWeb International
Geminiani: Sonatas Vol 1 / Mosca, Pianca, Paronuzzi
GEMINIANI Violin sonatas, op. 4/1, 3, 6, 7, 10, 12 • Liana Mosca (vn); Antonio Mosca (vc); Luca Pianca (archlute); Giorgio Paronuzzi (hpd) (period instruments) • STRADIVARIUS 33853 (67:41)
William S. Newman, in his massive study of the Baroque sonata, listed Francesco Geminiani’s sonatas for violin and continuo (op. 1 from 1716 and op. 4 from two decades later) and for violin and cello (op. 5) and judged Geminiani’s knowledge of the violin to equal that of Giuseppe Tartini or Pietro Locatelli (the latter of whom, like Geminiani, had been a pupil of Arcangelo Corelli, though a more technically adventurous one), but considered his style to be more conservative. Of the six sonatas presented by Liana Mosca, Antonio Mosca (her father), Luca Pianca, and Georgio Paronuzzi, all but two consist of four movements (the others numbering three); none of the movements’ titles give a hint of their dance-like elements or rondo forms. Almost all the sonatas have been cast in major keys. Geminiani would later rework six of the 12 sonatas of op. 4 (including No. 1 and No. 7 from Stradivarius’s collection) as concerti grossi. While Mosca remarks in a personal note in the booklet that Geminani’s sonatas from op. 4 haven’t received a great deal of attention, Rüdiger Lotter included the First, Eighth, Ninth, and 10th (two from Mosca’s selection) in a program released on Oehms 356 that also included several sonatas from Antonio Maria Veracini’s op. 1 ( Fanfare 29:1).
Geminiani revised the sonatas of his op. 1 at about the same time as he published op. 4 and included in the new edition of op. 1 the kinds of ornaments that make so striking an impression in Mosca’s performance of op. 4, as in the First Sonata’s Adagio (and also that of the Third Sonata). In that movement, she also displays a rhythmic and dynamic flexibility to create a capricious expressive sensibility that apparently suits not only the works themselves but Geminiani’s reputation as an expressive performer (among some: Tartini called him il furibondo , while John Hawkins thought he lacked the fire of the later violinists of his era). The sonata’s second movement isn’t fugal; it depends for its effect on the piquancy of its homophonic lines, of which Mosca gives a tangy account. The continuo provides an ingratiating strumming accompaniment in the Largo, a backdrop against which Mosca makes at times startling adjustments to the solo’s dynamic level; the finale includes surprises after dramatic pauses, and Mosca times them with the acute sensibility of a persuasive rhetorician. In general, she produces a twangy though by no means sharp-edged tone from her violin (and a perhaps surprisingly full one from its lower registers), described as a Venetian instrument from about 1750.
Mosca and the ensemble bring vivacious wit to the second movement of the Seventh Sonata and its jaunty subject (do these suggest the stolidity for which Geminiani has sometimes been condemned?) and spice to the ornamentation of the sonata’s third movement, Moderato. The Adagio of the Third Sonata showcases, as well as the encrustations of ornamentation mentioned earlier, the sudden gestures that make the sonatas sound inventive, at least from an expressive point of view (that sense of invention, continues, reaching almost to the level of improvisation, in the ensuing Allegro). The Sixth Sonata, again in D Major, at first seems almost somber compared to the three that precede it on the program, until Mosca dispels whatever gloom might have enshrouded it with her bright gaiety in the second movement; similarly, she shifts from the almost romantic sensibility of the sonata’s Andante to crisp Gallic sprightliness (Geminiani spent time in Paris) in the final movement, recalling a similar vein in the works of Jean-Marie Leclair (also a musical descendent of Corelli, this time through Giovanni Battista Somis). The two three-movement sonatas omit the slow movement; what they lose in affetuoso they gain in starchiness (although the last Allegro of the 10th Sonata includes a slow episode that almost replaces the missing movement). A multisectional fantasy serves as the first movement of the 12th Sonata’s three.
Lotter deploys a more astringent tone in his recording but he hardly stints on ornamental or expressive detail. Still, Mosca’s unaffected geniality, dramatic Luftpausen , and rhetorical sensibility breathe extra life into her performances.
With its clean recorded sound, its imaginative performances, and its ingratiating literature, Mosca’s selection of Geminiani’s sonatas might serve either as a favorable introduction to the works of the composer for those who aren’t familiar with him or an enjoyable reminder for those who know him that he brought more than Corelli’s teachings to London. Strongly recommended to all types of listeners.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
Martha Argerich Plays Beethoven & Ravel / Shani, Israel Philharmonic
In the opening Allegro con brio movement of the Piano Concerto No. 2, Beethoven follows Classical rules, concentrating on the two principal subjects of a double exposition—orchestra first, the soloist next—then a development section, and finally, a recapitulation. The main themes in their cheerful confidence are distinctly Beethoven’s. However, their working out is clearly influenced not only by Haydn but also by the recently departed Mozart. The middle movement—Adagio, in E flat major—hints at the slow movement of the Fourth Concerto to come a decade later. It is, in effect, an accompanied fantasia that resembles a carefree theme and variations, with an attention-getting solo recitative-like passage at the end. The twice-rewritten finale, Molto allegro, combines sonata and rondo forms, with perhaps the nicest surprise of all saved for last: a brief solo rumination which the orchestra brusquely interrupts with a terminal tantara. Mozart may have been his model, but the spirit here is pure young Beethoven.
Far from any kind of drama, the first movement of Ravel's G Major Concerto emphasizes joy, elegance, and cheerfulness. It all starts with a crack of a whip! Ravel sets out five thematic figures with Spanish influences and glissando-like jazz sounds; “circus-like elements” are also particularly evident in his extensive use of percussion. The Adagio offers the greatest possible contrast to this. The movement is characterized by simplicity and discretion. The final movement, Presto, abruptly tears the listener away from the melancholy mood. The music unfolds at a breathtaking speed, defined by circus-like percussion. The piano-playing is determined by frantic activity, indeed, by breathlessness. The motifs are sometimes onomatopoeic, now and then syncopated, at times march-like and grotesquely distorted, but always tempestuously pressing ahead until the fanfare from the beginning abruptly ends the work.
Gál: Chamber Music with Piano
The program of this album offers a varied selection of chamber music with piano written by Hans Gál between 1922 and 1940. Among these, the main work on the album is undoubtedly the Piano Quartet written for the one-armed pianist Paul Wittgenstein. The work consists of four substantial movements, and each of the movements is uniquely melodic; moreover, there are strong contrasts between the two light and airy movements II and IV on the one hand, and the dignified opening movement and delicate Adagio on the other. Richness and variety characterize this most productive period of composer Hans Gál. The rest of the program is of a decidedly lighter character than the Piano Quartet and shows Gál at his most fluid and melodic.
A Swedish Pastorale / Wedin, Stockholm Sinfonietta
The real highlights are the modest Atterberg Suite, and the Rosenberg cello miniature. The latter is sadness, packed ready to go, but the violin and viola in the Atterberg spin threads of Romantic ardor that float into the air, and resound in your consciousness forever, like it or not. As do the wonderful tunes. The slow middle movement, Pantomim, really lets Sparf’s artistry and phrasing shine, closely shadowed by Mansnerus. They should have done the Mozart Sinfonia concertante at the same sessions, but this is inspired playing, and arguably Atterberg’s finest 12 minutes. You’re the poorer, if you don’t know it yet. Roman’s 15-minute oboe d’amore concerto represents the Swedish 18th century at its considerable best: a warm contrast with the rest of the program, the soloist sounding rather close, but with memorable invention and interplay in the fast movements.
Fine notes, by the eminent Per Skans. There have been a few digital anthologies rather like this one in the intervening 20 years, but Wedin said it all in 1980. A CD of relaxing Swedish lighter classics might not be anywhere near the top of your Want List, just now. Hidebound Romantics should head straight for the Blomdahl Adagio, but I urge you all to sample the whole recital. BIS CD165 is certainly not one of the structural pillars of the Hall of Fame, but it makes a very attractive Swedish display case, for some little-known, meltingly beautiful music.
Paul Ingram, FANFARE
Haydn: The Amadeus Quartet Recordings, Vol. 6 (Berlin, 1950-1969)
Joseph Haydn’s string quartets, often rated as the basis for playing quartets, represented far more than an obligation to the Amadeus Quartet. During their entire career, which spans four decades, they thoroughly and continually dedicated themselves to these works, especially those of Haydn’s middle and late periods. Most of their concert programs featured a quartet by Haydn and in their sonic legacy, Haydn’s string quartets make up more than a fifth of the total. The musicians held these works in such high esteem due, on the one hand, to their relative technical ease and, on the other, their high musical demands.
REVIEW::
This batch is devoted entirely to Haydn, and includes works that the Amadeus never recorded commercially: Opp 9/3, 20/5, and 33/2 (The Joke). For the last, the Amadeus cut a forceful profile in the scherzo and make an affectionate beeline for the gentle ‘joke’ at the close of the finale. Their playing of the F minor Quartet (Op 20/5) suggests implied parallels with Mozart’s G minor Quintet in the scherzo, while the lilting Adagio is given the loveliest reading imaginable. The C major Quartet Op 54 No 2 features a brief Adagio that can only be described as cantorial: the solo violin wails expressively over supportive chords, the effect not unlike the ‘beklemmt’ passage in Beethoven’s Cavatina (the Quartet Op 130). We’re given a complete recording of the Quartet from 1969 and that movement alone as recorded in 1950, both extraordinarily moving. Fifteen works are included overall (the majority originating in Haydn’s later period), including The Seven Last Words which is additionally available as a downloadable ‘extended version’ with German texts. An unmissable collection.
— Gramophone
Schubert, Maja Solveig Kjelstrup Ratkje, Benjamin Britten, J
Latin Winds / Rundell, Heron / RNCM Wind Orchestra
From Spain to Mexico and Brazil, the RNCM Wind Orchestra, under the conductors Clark Rundell and Mark Heron, here celebrates the strong Latin tradition of wind bands in an exhilarating programme. The album prominently features works by one of the most iconic composers for winds, the Brazilian Villa-Lobos. Their liveliness, freely changing modalities, ease of flow, and likeable sonorities are a striking compositional signature, the unusual Concerto Grosso exploring a unique sound world with concertante discussion among the four wind soloists and the wind band. Also heard are the tender wind Adagio by Rodrigo and his arrangement for band of his first major symphonic work, Per la flor del lliri blau, which in dreamily evoking the age of mediaeval tales inspired his Concierto de Aranjuez. We are brought to Mexico with a stunning work by one of the country’s most popular composers, Carlos Chávez, celebrating a range of popular national genres: the march, waltz, and song.
