Search results: Search results
570 results
Products
-
-
-
-
-
-
SaleMessiaen, Schubert, R. Schumann & Webern: On the Shoulders of Giants / Bohórquez, Eschenbach
Berlin Classics · May 2023CD$21.99$10.99 -
Schumann: Symphonies No 2 & 4 / Zacharias, Orchestre De Chambre De Lausanne
MDG · May 2012SACD$24.99 -
-
-
-
-
SaleMozart: Violin Concertos Nos. 1 & 2 / Steinbacher, Dodds, Lucerne Festival Strings
PENTATONE · Oct 2021CD$19.99$14.99 -
-
-
Price: Symphony No. 3 - The Mississippi River - Ethiopia's Shadow in America / Jeter, ORF VRSO
Naxos · Nov 2021CD$19.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
Pasquini: Sonatas For Two Organs / Luca Scandali, Hadrien Jourdan
Brilliant Classics · Jun 2013CD$13.99 -
-
-
Spanish Classics - Manuel Blasco De Nebra: Complete Keyboard Sonatas Vol 1 / Pedro Casals
Naxos · Aug 2009CD$19.99 -
-
-
-
SaleFrom Venice to Leipzig - Organ Music / Manuel Tomadin
Brilliant Classics · Feb 2023CD$13.99$10.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
The Art Of Egon Petri - Concert Performances & Broadcasts, 1954-1962
Music and Arts Programs of America · Aug 2013CD$36.99
Schubert: The Symphonies / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
It was only after his death that Franz Schubert’s symphonic works made an impact in music history. In fact, the first public performance of any of Schubert’s symphonies took place at a memorial concert held a few weeks after the composer had passed away, on 19th November 1828. The work that was heard at that occasion was Symphony No.6, D589, the ‘Little C major’, while the two undisputed master works of the series – the ‘Great C major’ and the ‘Unfinished’ – had to wait until 1838 and 1865, respectively, before being performed. The six symphonies that precede them in the list of completed works were all composed between 1813 and 1818, while Schubert was still only 21 years of age. In a style above all oriented on Haydn and Mozart, they are youthful in the best sense of the word and display a disarming freshness which the present performances convey to perfection.
The four discs gathered here were released singly between 2010 and 2014, receiving critical acclaim in the international music press: the reviewer in The Daily Telegraph (UK) described the experience as ‘having a layer of varnish removed from a much-loved painting’ while his colleague in Fanfare wrote that the approach by Thomas Dausgaard and the Swedish Chamber Orchestra ‘changes the landscape’, proposing that the cycle ‘could become a first choice among any available.’ The set also include some shorter orchestral works, among them the much-loved Rosamunde Overture.
Excerpts from reviews of previously released volumes included in this set:
Schubert: Symphonies Nos. 8 & 9 / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
Dausgaard somehow manages to approach the surviving two movements of Schubert's B minor Symphony as though we didn't all know that it remained 'unfinished. For once it was hard not to regret the absence of an energetic scherzo or finale.
-- BBC Music Magazine
Schubert: Symphony No. 6 / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
Dausgaard dexterously manages the internal balance within the orchestra. His pacing of the opening Adagio instills confidence, the line shaped by phrases stretched and contracted, dynamics thoughtfully graded, the interpretation of the whole work thoughtfully considered.
-- Gramophone
Schubert: Symphonies Nos. 3, 4 & 5 / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
Even if not in his mature style, and showing the influence of Rossini, as well as of Haydn and Mozart, they are pure Schubert, not least in harmony and scoring, and they stand up well to the high-powered approach of Dausgaard and the splendid Swedish Chamber Orchestra.
-- The Sunday Times (UK)
Schubert: Symphonies Nos. 1 & 2 / Dausgaard, Swedish Chamber Orchestra
The definition and dynamism that these forces have been bringing to their Schubert symphony cycle are qualities that are radiantly replicated in the performances here.
-- Gramophone
Messiaen, Schubert, R. Schumann & Webern: On the Shoulders of Giants / Bohórquez, Eschenbach
On the Shoulders of Giants is the latest album from the renowned cellist Claudio Bohórquez, with works ranging from Schumann to Webern, from Schubert to Messiaen, this album is a journey on the shoulders of musical giants, both in the compositions and in the interpretations. Accompanied by the legendary conductor and pianist Christoph Eschenbach, Bohórquez delivers an extraordinary performance that is a treat for the ears and soul. With his exceptional skill and technique, he explores the depths of the cello's sound, bringing out the unique beauty and emotion of each piece. The album features Schumann's Adagio & Allegro op. 70, a powerful and expressive work that showcases Bohórquez's impeccable bowing and phrasing. The 2 Pieces for Cello and Piano by A. v. Webern are a masterclass in modernist composition, with Bohórquez and Eschenbach expertly navigating the intricate and complex melodies. Schubert's Sonata (Arpeggione) is a true gem of the cello repertoire. Finally, O. Messiaen's Louange à l‘Éternité de Jésus is a beautiful and moving work that showcases the cello's ability to convey deep spiritual emotions.
Schumann: Symphonies No 2 & 4 / Zacharias, Orchestre De Chambre De Lausanne
SCHUMANN Symphonies: No. 2; No. 4 • Christian Zacharias, cond; Lausanne CO • MDG MGD 940 1745-6 (SACD: 64:51)
This is the first time I have ever heard these symphonies played gracefully by a chamber orchestra. What makes them so beautiful is that Christian Zacharias does not employ his orchestra’s limitation of size as an excuse for delivering spiky phrasing and rude noises. (Roger Norrington! Beware of Dog!) What I encounter instead in these performances is the delicacy of Schumann’s piano suites and the fine ear of a pianist who knows this music must dance. In fairness, the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra is not that small—perhaps 50-strong here—but usually the temptation would be to overcompensate with smaller-dog tensile energy.
Happily we find instead kinder, gentler versions of big-orchestra Schumann. This approach works best in the inner movements of both symphonies, but also especially well in the danceable opening allegro of the Fourth. Taken a bit faster than usual, the Adagio of the Second Symphony could actually propel a couple gracefully around the room. In the outer movements we get similar tea-dance spirit, but at the slight expense of something larger and more exciting. This is such smooth, euphonious cozy Schumann; it is almost Dvo?ák.
Schumann, of course, was obsessed by the sound of disembodied trumpets during the composition of his Second Symphony. And there is more metaphysical fear and Wagnerian mystery to be captured in its introduction than heard here. Christoph Eschenbach evoked this hauntingly in his Bamberg cycle for Virgin in the early ’90s. And Ernest Ansermet, just up the road in Geneva, didn’t do badly with it, either. Small forces have difficulty with the stasis of mood and mystery. In particular, tremoli with a large complement of strings can evoke the infinite nature of things. But in reduced numbers, they demystify and can pester like flies at a picnic.
So I shall not argue that Zacharias has exhausted the possibilities found in these symphonies, just that the beauty of his approach will surprise you, in delicious but unobtrusive surround sound. If there is perhaps more grit, force, and sheer amorous passion to be found in the Second Symphony, well, Clara Schumann would certainly have thought so. As a small symbol in her diaries reveals, she and Schumann had sex virtually every day for 10 years! I always suspected girls loved Schumann!
FANFARE: Steven Kruger
G.p. Telemann: Trio Sonatas For Recorder, Violin And Continuo
TELEMANN Trio Sonatas: in d, TWV 42:d10; in a, TWV 42:a1; in F, TWV 42:F8; in f, TWV 42:f2; in a, TWV 42:a4; in f. Sonata in f, TWV 41:f1 • Fabio Biondi (vn); Tripla Concordia (period instruments) • DYNAMIC 7667 (52:13)
Fabio Biondi’s program of trio sonatas by Georg Philipp Telemann, apparently mastered in the late 1990s, corresponds to an identical program (same works in the same order) once listed as Stradivarius 33685 and not reviewed, so far as I can tell, in Fanfare . Tripla Concordia consists of Lorenzo Cavasanti (recorder), Caroline Boersma (cello), and Sergio Ciomei (harpsichord), and they lend almost bumptious support to the irrepressible Fabio Biondi, playing, in this case, a violin constructed by Desiderio Quercetani in 1991 after an 18th-century Neapolitan model. Danilo Prefumo’s notes explain that the ensemble has gathered together all of Telemann’s works for the combination of violin, recorder, and continuo, omitting other trio sonatas intended for recorder, treble viola da gamba, and continuo, previously considered to have been intended for violin.
The engineers come very close to the ensemble (and if the flute seems almost shrill on occasion, so does the violin on others); but the random breathing they’ve captured seems benign beside the amount of instrumental noise and multitudinous abrasive attacks they’ve registered, all of which might intimidate a faint-hearted listener (the recorded sound also gives the instrumental timbres a sharp edge that, it seems possible, might be an artifact). Nevertheless, there’s no gainsaying the irresistible élan of the ensemble’s reading of the first Sonata, with its three fast movements surrounding a slower second (all the sonatas comprise four movements, in which two fast movements generally provide a contrast with two slower ones). And the close, vibrant recorded sound, however pleasantly or unpleasantly it may strike the listener’s sensibilities from moment to moment, plays a significant role in creating the overall effect. In fact, the razor sharpness of the instrumental sound seems considerably more distracting in slow movements like the opening Adagio of the Sonata in F Minor (TWV 42:f2), rather than in headlong fast ones like the same Sonata’s Finale. The Sonata in A Minor, TWV 42:a4, seems perhaps the most balanced, with all the movements taking about two and a half minutes and alternating slow and fast in the pattern that had become pretty much standard. Yet, from my experience of the work as a performer, it seems to lack in this reading the exuberant energy that characterized the fast movements and the suavity that characterized the slow ones in their performances of the other sonatas. Recommended to those who may have missed this collection in what seems to have been an earlier incarnation and who take delight in this repertoire.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
American Classics - Rorem: Piano Concerto No 2, Etc
Better late than never, these Rorem premieres are irresistible
How remarkable that two such delectable concertos should be receiving their world premieres on disc. Unapologetically romantic and accessible, those qualities may well have mitigated against acceptance among the industry’s fashion-mongers. The Second Piano Concerto (1951) was written for Julius Katchen (also the dedicatee of Rorem’s attractive Second Piano Sonata) and was given its first performance by that superb pianist in 1954. Since then it has lain dormant until its present revival by Simon Mulligan whose brilliance, ideally matched by José Serebrier, is worthy of Katchen himself. Here, the ghosts of Ravel, Françaix, Gershwin, Stravinsky and, most of all, Poulenc, jostle for attention. Yet Rorem’s idiom is as personal as it is chic. The final pages of the central “Quiet and Sad” movement, where the piano weaves intricate tracery round the orchestral theme, may owe much to the Adagio assai from Ravel’s G major Concerto but it maintains its own character. The finale, “Real Fast”, is an irresistible tour de force played up to the hilt by Mulligan.
In the Cello Concerto Rorem happily eschews a conventional form, giving programmatic subtitles to each section. These range from “Curtain Raise” to “Adrift”, offering Wen-Sinn Yang a rich opportunity, whether playing primus inter pares or revelling in Rorem’s alternating nostalgia and effervescence. Finely recorded, it’s a clear winner for the Naxos American Classics series.
-- Bryce Morrison, Gramophone [12/2007]
Naxos' ongoing series of Ned Rorem orchestral music recordings offers well-deserved recognition to a major American composer. This latest release is no less rewarding than the prior issues. The Second Piano Concerto dates from 1951 and shows the young composer writing with tremendous gusto. A large work (34 minutes) in the traditional three movements, its scoring is both vivid and at times a touch dense and "over the top", while the work's melodic generosity and rhythmic drive are undeniably infectious; its neglect must be counted a major mystery. Conductor José Serebrier's notes make much of the music's "American" qualities, particularly in the finale, but I was much more forcibly struck by Rorem's much-advertised love of French music. Whatever the answer to the "influence" question, this concerto is without doubt a major statement, and it's very impressively performed by Simon Mulligan, Serebrier, and the orchestra, who let the music speak with all of its delicious formal (in the first-movement cadenza) and textural excess.
Rorem's Cello Concerto dates from 2002, and like many of his late orchestra works it abandons traditional form in favor of a series of brief movements given cute names that may or may not have anything significant to do with their musical content. Frankly, I find this habit unnecessarily coy and distracting, but others may simply be intrigued; and if the listener's curiosity, once aroused, leads to giving the music more concentrated attention, then it's all to the good.
The sequence of eight movements is laid out for maximum contrast, and I particularly enjoyed the seventh, a characterful waltz. Indeed, Rorem is such a fine melodist when he wants to be that you have to wonder why he feels the need to venture into more aggressively "modern" territory now and then. Perhaps he's working a little bit too hard at being a "serious" composer. Never mind: this is a fine work, also strongly played by cellist Wen-Sinn Yang. Naxos' engineers have judged the balances very accurately between both soloists and the orchestra, while the occasional opacity at the climaxes of the piano concerto seems more a function of the heavy scoring than a suggestion of technical inadequacy. A fine disc.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Mozart: Violin Concertos Nos. 1 & 2 / Steinbacher, Dodds, Lucerne Festival Strings
After having recorded Mozart’s last three violin concertos in 2014, Arabella Steinbacher, the Festival Strings Lucerne and its leader Daniel Dodds now complete the cycle by presenting Mozart’s less well-known, but equally enchanting Violin Concertos 1 & 2, together with his Adagio in E Major and Rondos in C Major and B-flat Major. Steinbacher plays the cadenzas by Wolfgang Schneiderhan, who co-founded the Festival Strings Lucerne in 1956. Another exciting aspect of this album is that she plays for the first time on the “Ex Benno Walter“ Strad from 1718. Arabella Steinbacher, a multiple award-winner with an extensive PENTATONE discography, is accompanied by the esteemed players of the Festival Strings Lucerne and their leader and artistic director Daniel Dodds.
Price: Symphony No. 3 - The Mississippi River - Ethiopia's Shadow in America / Jeter, ORF VRSO
Naxos continues its exploration of Florence Price’s unjustly neglected orchestral works with this latest album, which includes Symphony No. 3. The ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra is conducted by Price advocate, John Jeter, who received widespread praise for his album of Symphonies Nos. 1 and 4 (8.559827), released in January 2019.
REVIEW:
Florence Price’s Symphony No. 3 (1940) may be her finest. Written in four well-proportioned movements, it begins with music of high seriousness—a slow introduction that sounds like the Adagio of Bruckner’s Seventh meets the Blues—and never looks back. The ensuring Andante is extremely beautiful, and in place of the usual scherzo Price gives us her customary “Juba,” a dance-like fantasy full of captivating sonorities, sultry melodies, and gently offbeat rhythms. As in the Fourth Symphony, Price calls the finale the actual Scherzo, offering her own imaginative slant on traditional symphonic form. It’s worth pointing out that as a graguate (with honors) from the New England Conservatory, Price was about as well trained as any American composer of her day, and entirely apart from the music’s characteristically personal expressive elements, her technical sophistication as a writer for the orchestra really shows. This is good stuff.
The Mississippi River, sometimes called a “suite,” is actually a tone poem containing nearly half an hour of continuous music. Price quotes American folk tunes and Negro spirituals (Get Along Little Doggies, Deep River, etc) as the river wends its way from north to south, but what impresses most is how well sustained the musical argument is, and how effectively this lengthy and colorful piece cheats the clock. Really, there’s no excuse for this music not being programmed regularly in American orchestra concerts. Finally, Ethiopia’s Shadow in America is a brief triptych tracing the arrival of the Black man to American as a slave, his resignation and faith, and finally, hopefully, his ultimate assimilation into American society in a fusion of African and “acquired impulses.” The work offers a useful commentary on the role of the individual in society in these racially polarized times.
John Jeter has already turned in very good performances of Price’s First and Fourth Symphonies with his own orchestra in Arkansas, but these recordings with the full-time ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra are both better played and better recorded. Price was an important and worthy voice in American classical music, quite apart from the challenges she faced as an African-American woman. Getting to know her is a genuine treat.
-- ClassicsToday.com (David Hurwitz)
Divertimenti Viennesi
Pasquini: Sonatas For Two Organs / Luca Scandali, Hadrien Jourdan
Keyboard music in Italy in the 1600s was to undergo a radical change, with an introduction to Rationalism and simplicity; Pasquini himself is known to have been particularly enamoured with the works of Palestrina and Frescobaldi. Aside from his skills as a performer and composer, Pasquini was also an immensely gifted teacher. Each of the sonatas for two basso continuo instruments bears the hallmarks of the partimento teaching technique, which involves a kind of dialogue between teacher and student. The sonatas include the fashionable styles of keyboard music of the time, such as the Allegro da concerto, Adagio, Fugue, Corrente and Gavotte.
The recording boasts two multi-award-winning organists. The first, Luca Scandali, was educated at the Conservatory 'G. Rossini' of Pesaro in his native Italy and has performed in festivals all over Europe. He is currently Professor of Organ and Composition for Organ at the Conservatory 'F. Morlacchi' of Perugia. The second, Swiss organist, Hadrien Jourdan, studied at the Conservatory of Geneva and regularly participates in festivals and recordings throughout Europe.
Other information:
- Recorded in 2012.
- Bernardo Pasquini (1637-1710) was an Italian composer of opera and church music. A renowned virtuoso keyboard player in his day, he was one of the most important Italian composers for harpsichord and organ between Frescobaldi and Scarlatti.
- Pasquini's sonatas for two organs offer delightful dialogues between the two instruments (sometimes acting as teacher and pupil) in fashionable forms such as Allegro da Concerto and various dance forms.
- Two excellent organists enjoy their interplay on two historical organs from the 18th century.
- Organs: Pietro Nacchini, 1757; Gaetano Callido, 1785.
- Harpsichord: copy after Ignazio Mucciardi, 1789, by Giulio Fratini & Pierpaolo Pallotti, 2012.
- Contains liner notes on the works and biographies of the artists.
Spanish Classics - Manuel Blasco De Nebra: Complete Keyboard Sonatas Vol 1 / Pedro Casals
BLASCO DE NEBRA Keyboard Sonatas: Nos. 1– 5; 107–112; in d; in G • Pedro Casals (pn) • NAXOS 8.572068 (76:16)
This is the first of a projected set of three CDs devoted to the extant piano sonatas of Manuel Blasco de Nebra (1750–1784) by pianist and musicologist Pedro Casals. During his short life, Blasco de Nebra is said to have composed some 170 works, though we don’t know in what form nor for what media he wrote. According to Casals’s interesting and informative notes, only 26 keyboard sonatas and six pastorellas are known to survive. Six of the sonatas were apparently published as op. 1, a copy of which is in the Library of Congress. The remainder are known from manuscripts from the Monastery of Montserrat (Catalonia), Encarnación Monastery of Osuna (near Seville), and the Santa Clara Convent (Seville.) Blasco de Nebra was born and died in Seville and, except for two years in Madrid, where his uncle, the zarzuela composer José de Nebra had connections at court, his entire life was spent in the Andalusian city. It may be straddling the fence to call these pieces “keyboard sonatas”: the prominence of Alberti bass figuration alone would seem to argue in favor of the piano. It’s worth noting that one of the more prominent Iberian piano makers, Francisco Pérez Mirabal, flourished in Seville contemporaneously with Blasco de Nebra. Two of Mirabal’s pianos survive. He, like other Iberian makers, had the advantage of basing their instruments on the imported Florentine pianos of Cristofori and Ferrini, unlike Silbermann in Germany, who was forced to experiment on the basis of simplistic published diagrams of the Cristofori action. In any case, it’s obvious from the persuasive performances by Casals (albeit on the modern piano) that Blasco de Nebra’s sonatas are well crafted, often quite beautiful, and never less than effective.
Without being derivative, these pieces bring to mind the Catalan composer, Antonio Soler. Certainly the sonatas of Soler’s master, Domenico Scarlatti, seem a constant point of reference. This recording presents Blasco de Nebra’s sonatas chronologically. The earliest (Nos. 107–112, deriving from the Osuna Encarnación and Santa Clara manuscripts) are cast in single-movement, binary form, like Scarlatti’s. The latest recorded here (Nos. 1–5, from the Montserrat Abbey manuscript) preface each Allegro movement with an extended Adagio. Most of the sonatas unfold in two-part textures; their inventive motivic structure is often triadic and highly ornamented. Blasco de Nebra was active among several organists who played at the cathedral in Seville. It’s not surprising that, in the couple of sonatas that seem to effectively employ tone-painting, church bells are evoked: festal peals in Sonata No. 111, for instance, and in the Adagio of Sonata No 2, somber chimes. Casals brings a rhythmic vitality and crisp touch to his performances, appropriately achieving his varied affects with scarcely any pedal. Given his decision to present the sonatas in the order written, it will be interesting to observe Blasco de Nebra’s stylistic evolution in future releases.
The piano sound (in this case an instrument that could have used a touch-up during the recording) leaves something to be desired, possibly due to overly close microphone placement and a less than resonant space. But the playing is so good and the music so interesting that one quickly forgets the less-than-optimal technical aspects of the recording. Casals’s performances, authoritative and imbued with a love of the music, will no doubt attract greater attention to this little-known but obviously gifted composer. Recommended.
FANFARE: Patrick Rucker
W.F. Bach, Benda & C.P.E. Bach: The Age of Extremes
From Venice to Leipzig - Organ Music / Manuel Tomadin
Whether or not they actually traveled south of the Alps, as Handel did early in his career, all 18th-century German composers of note were influenced by the Italian style of vocal and instrumental writing at the time. Manuel Tomadin’s latest album for Brilliant Classics explores the connections between these apparently disparate traditions, beginning with the Toccata, Adagio and Fugue BWWV564 which stands among the most striking examples of JS Bach’s work during his years as Capellmeister to the ducal court in Weimar (1710-1717). The Italian qualities of the concerto-like nature of the opening Toccata in BWV564 and then the pathos of the Adagio, with its walking bass and Neapolitan harmonies, are underlined by the following transcription made by Bach of a Vivaldi Concerto, the A minor RV522, and then Walther’s transcription of a concerto by Torelli. Just as Bach was later influenced by the violin playing and writing of the virtuoso Pisendel, German-born but widely traveled in Italy, Johann Gottlieb Graun was a pupil of Pisendel’s who had also studied with the prince of Italian violinist-composers, Giuseppe Tartini, and so Tomadin includes a solo-organ concerto of Graun’s which abounds in violinistic figuration. An arrangement of Handel’s opening Sinfonia to his oratorio Esther, another Vivaldi concerto and Bach’s magnificent A minor Prelude and Fugue BWWV543 complete this stimulating program.
This album is also a valuable record of the historically significant organ in St Peter’s Church in the Dutch town of Leens. Dating from 1733-34, and thus contemporary with the music recorded here, the instrument is the work of the Dutch organ-builder Albertus Anthoni Hinsz. He modelled his designs on the instruments by the Schnitger family who dominated North-German organ-building at the time, and the example in Leens is a superbly preserved and scrupulously restored example of this heritage. The booklet is generously annotated with an essay by Manuel Tomadin exploring the Italian connections between the music on the album, a history of the organ, a full stop-list and a record of the specific registration used for each piece.
TCHAIKOVSKY: SYM NO.6 SOUVENIR DE FLORENCE
Beethoven: The 9 Symphonies / Trevino, Malmö Symphony
This new Beethoven symphony cycle with Malmö Symphony Orchestra is conductor Robert Trevino’s debut release on Ondine. Trevino is one of the fastest rising young conductors and known for his fresh and vivid interpretations of both standard repertoire as well as contemporary works. Trevino is currently holding the tenures as chief conductor of the Malmö Symphony Orchestra and as music director of the Basque National Orchestra. After studies with conductors David Zinman, Seiji Ozawa and Michael Tilson Thomas, Trevino worked closely as Leif Segerstam’s assistant before making his debuts with a number of leading symphony orchestras worldwide. These Beethoven symphonies were recorded in connection with a Beethoven festival which was arranged in Malmö, Sweden in October, 2019.
REVIEW:
It may seem bold and even brash for a relatively young conductor like Robert Trevino to launch a new label relationship with a Beethoven symphony cycle recorded in live performance. Yet he has an obvious affinity for this repertoire, compounded by the Malmö Symphony Orchestra’s polished and responsive music making. Ondine’s engineering captures the orchestra in fine detail without artificial spotlighting, conveying a genuine concert hall ambience.
In a perceptive interview with David Patrick Stearns published as part of this set’s annotations, Trevino cites consultations with David Zinman and Daniel Barenboim concerning interpretive matters. Indeed there’s evidence of Zinman’s chamber-like aesthetic and fast tempos, as well as the power and dynamism distinguishing Barenboim’s great Berlin Staatskapelle Beethoven symphony cycle. But Trevino goes his own way, with variable results.
His brisk outer movements in Symphony No. 1 are akin to Toscanini’s opera buffa approach, particularly in the Allegro con brio development section’s playful woodwind repartée. Certain phrases in the Minuet push ever-so-slightly ahead of the beat, yet remain securely locked in, ensemble-wise. In No. 2, Trevino effects an assiduous transition between the Adagio introduction and an enchantingly rollicking Allegro con brio. For all its suppleness of execution, I prefer the more pointed string articulation in Paavo Järvi’s similarly conceived traversal. The controlled delicacy in the Larghetto’s softer music makes this movement sound faster than its actual duration, although it’s on the square side when compared alongside the more robust and inflected Harnoncourt reading.
Trevino undersells the cross-rhythmic sforzandos in the Eroica symphony’s first movement, while the exposition’s basic tempo gradually spreads and slows down: not a lot, but the energy flags. Trevino’s Funeral March is as eloquent and moving as the catalog’s best versions. The conductor accelerates for the Fughetta, yet the carefully layered counterpoint and tremendous dynamic build reflect the music’s shattering intent. The Scherzo has all of Szell/Cleveland’s surface perfection, minus its nervous energy, while the finale variations brilliantly showcase the Mälmo woodwinds’ proficiency.
Trevino largely underplays No. 4. The opening Adagio’s blended string and woodwind passages are super clear but lack the foreboding aura of Thomas Fey’s marked dynamic contrasts and stinging accents. The slow movement’s two-note phrases are not as well-defined as in the Bruno Walter/Columbia Symphony recording.
Some may find No. 5’s first movement overly driven, yet Trevino’s attention to linear interplay never derails. If the Andante con moto doesn’t aspire to Beethoven’s “dolce” directive, notice the uncommon clarity of the upper strings’ staccato 32nd notes. The Scherzo’s clipped detaché tuttis and difficult cello/bass fugal entrance in the Trio are appropriately forceful, while the Allegro finale mirrors the first movement’s relentless momentum.
In the Pastorale, Trevino emulates Zinman’s transparency and fast tempos, but with more distinctive first-desk soloists. The bird-call intimations in the second movement are deliciously shaped, but the fourth-movement storm doesn’t break out into a Klempererian or Kleiberian torrent.
No. 7’s fast-paced outer movements border on glibness, missing the force and drama with which Barenboim/Berlin Staatskapelle, Wand/NDR, the first Solti/Chicago, and Carlos Kleiber/Bavarian State Radio Orchestra grab you by the jugular, figuratively speaking.
Trevino’s first-movement tricks in No. 8 don’t quite work, such as a diminuendo in the opening phrase that telegraphs the subito piano that follows, plus odd accelerandos here and there. The conductor gives short shrift to the cross-rhythmic accents, and to the cellos and basses who carry the melodic burden in the transition leading into the recapitulation. The Allegretto’s woodwind gurgles are recessed to polite effect, when they ought to be in your face. The rollicking finale stands out for deft interplay between orchestral strands, yet the similarly lithe Haitink/London Symphony recording proves more incisive in every respect.
Trevino maintains the basic tempo of No. 9’s first movement with little modification, and makes expressive points solely through variety of articulation and specificity of phrasing. The Scherzo’s vibrantly shaped Trio compensates for the main section’s coolness and lack of fervency. In the briskly reserved Adagio, the decorative string passages still manage to sing out and breathe. And the “Ode to Joy” finale benefits from fine singing and “centrist” tempos that are intelligently unified and not too fast nor too slow.
The conductor observes all repeats, eschews the traditional brass reinforcements in the Ninth’s Scherzo, and opts for the trumpets continuing their phrases in the Eroica first-movement coda. If this Beethoven cycle falls short of our reference versions’ consistent satisfaction and seasoned authority, Robert Trevino’s stylish flair, astute musicianship, and good taste are never in doubt.
– ClassicsToday (Jed Distler)
Zani: Sonate a Violino e Basso / Rognoni, Ensemble L'Aura Soave
The ‘Sonate 12 a Violino e Basso intitolate "Pensieri armonici" Opus. 5’ clearly belongs to Andrea Zani's second post-Vivaldian style. Without a dedication, these sonatas are still stylistically tied to the baroque style, but there are hints of the gallant style in them, above all because of the frequent use of appoggiaturas and in the cantabile themes and their development. Each of them having three movements, in the initial and final Allegros the violin, the indisputable protagonist, giving vent, shows off with captivating virtuosity, supported by a precise and well constructed bass. The Adagios are superb, placed as a contrast between the two extreme quick movements where the cantabile nature of the writing for the violin is full of "melos" making these pages quite enjoyable. The quality of the composition of these sonatas makes one consider the unjust oblivion into which the musical work of Zani has fallen. It was previously so respected and is now practically unknown. Violinist Andrea Rognoni and the ensemble L’Aura Soave breathe new life into this forgotten work.
Beethoven: Late String Quartets / Brodsky Quartet
-----
REVIEW:
The Brodsky Quartet certainly have their own distinctive virtues, and the highlights reach very high indeed. Technically, these performances are immaculate, so it all comes down to a question of personal taste. To me, the account of the A minor Quartet Op. 132 is the outstanding interpretation here with its serene Adagio, the Heiliger Dankgesang, taken as slowly as anyone could dare, and the intensity of its finale ratcheted up with perfect sureness. As in any cycle of these inexhaustible works, everyone has to pick and choose what they admire, but there is no doubting that these performances of some of the greatest music ever written are to be taken seriously.
– Guardian (Andrew Clements) - 1/2020
Brahms: Late Piano Music Opp. 76, 79 & 116-119 / Owen
-----
REVIEW:
In the Op. 117 Owen finds an apt simplicity to its opening number, while the second has a nice gentleness. The third is filled with a tangible sadness, and is nicely inward—altogether more urgent than Jonathan Plowright, who produces one of the most touchingly withdrawn readings on record. In Op. 116 Owen is particularly telling in the A minor Intermezzo, which has a pleasing intimacy, contrasting with the turbulence of the following number and the sonorously beautiful E major Adagio that forms the set’s centrepiece.
The two Op 79 Rhapsodies are another highlight of this set, with Owen conveying the requisite sense of power, surmounting their difficulties with ease and making the much-played G minor very much his own.
– Gramophone
Taneyev: Oresteia Overture & Interlude, Canzona, Etc / Sanderling, Et Al
Taneyev may not be high on most people's list of 19th-century Russian composers but that could change as this Naxos series progresses. The First and Third symphonies with the Novosibirsk orchestra under Thomas Sanderling - son of the illustrious Kurt - certainly impressed me and, if anything, this new release has heightened my admiration for composer and orchestra alike.
Taneyev's only opera, based on Aeschylus's Oresteia, was recorded by DG and Olympia some time ago, but neither version is in the current catalogue. Curiously, the overture was composed and performed several years before the opera was completed. It's a substantial piece in its own right, lasting around 20 minutes, and listeners may be forgiven for thinking they've stumbled on a little-known piece of Wagner or Richard Strauss. That said, this is more than musical mimicry, revealing a rich supply of motile Russian melodies and a symphonic sweep that wouldn't have disgraced Taneyev's great friend and mentor, Tchaikovsky. From that first Stygian string theme through to its restrained finale this overture is full of lovely touches; and even though there is a whiff of Scriabin in those aromatic harmonies Sanderling ensures they never cloy or overwhelm the senses.
Arguably the Act III Entr'acte is even more seductive - it certainly has a Straussian amplitude - which is probably why this piece was so popular during the composer's lifetime. I was particularly struck by the sheer passion and unanimity of the playing and Sanderling's firm, clear-eyed view of the score. The recording is just as satisfying, deep when it needs to be and suitably grand in the splendid climaxes. Indeed, any misgivings I might have had about this band and their conductor simply evaporated at this point.
How very different that all is to the delectable Adagio in C major, written during the composer's final year at the Moscow Conservatory. As Anastasia Belina points out in her liner notes, much of Taneyev's youthful work was only discovered years later. The Adagio, published in 1950, is a real gem, especially when it's played with such elegance and refinement. And how different again is the Overture on a Russian Theme, written for the All-Russian Art and Trade Exhibition of 1882. Taneyev makes use of authentic Russian songs - as collected by Rimsky-Korsakov - forging them into a piece that has all the cut and thrust of a Cossack sword. It's virile stuff, guaranteed to please those who like their Russians to strut and swagger.
The style of the cantata, written for the opening of the Pushkin Memorial in Moscow, is echoed in the celebratory music of post-revolutionary Russia, used to great effect by the likes of Prokofiev and Shostakovich. That's not to suggest this is merely a patriotic prole-pleaser, because it isn't; it may be just 64 bars long but it has all the passion and splendour of those great choral numbers in Alexander Nevsky. As for the Canzona it's a frothy little confection, complemented by the bright-toned playing of clarinettist Stanislav Yankovsky. A slight piece, perhaps, but enjoyable none the less.
The Overture in D minor, like the Adagio, is an early work and this time it shows. It has a bluff quality - and a tendency to outstay its welcome - that the other pieces in this collection manage to avoid. (I wonder if other listeners can hear Brahms in this music?) Still, one mildly disappointing piece out of seven isn't bad, and it certainly isn't enough to dilute my enthusiasm for this disc as a whole. Factor in committed playing and full-blooded sound and you have one of the year's most entertaining releases so far.
Go on, treat yourself.
-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International
Ries: 3 Violin Sonatas / Grossman, Kagan
Ferdinand Ries was Beethoven’s student, close friend and biographer, but until quite recently was very much one of those composers living in the shadow of his Bonn master, rather than as the gifted and prolific composer he in fact was.
American pianist, author and educator Susan Kagan has explored the music of those composers associated with Beethoven and his musical scene. In fact she has researched the music of Archduke Rudolph – Beethoven’s composition student for more than twenty years – for her Ph.D. This was subsequently published by Pendragon Press back in 1988. More recently she has almost single-handedly championed the cause of Ries’s piano music, with five CDs of his Sonatas and Sonatinas on the Naxos label.
Kagan explains: ‘Ries studied piano with Beethoven (both were natives of Bonn, Germany) and was entrusted by him with such work as making transcriptions and piano arrangements, and copying orchestral parts of Beethoven’s new works. Ries moved to England in 1813, married an Englishwoman, and had a successful career touring as a virtuoso concert pianist. At the same time he was composing prodigiously and virtually everything he wrote was published. His thorough knowledge of Beethoven’s music undoubtedly helped shape Ries’s style, but his piano sonatas, from 1809 on, show an adventurous turn toward an expressive keyboard style anticipating that of the first generation of Romantic piano composers – Mendelssohn, Chopin, and Schumann. His gift for melody is like Schubert’s, and he is ever inventive in creating and developing beautiful themes. While his symphonies and concertos are ‘public’ works, intended for large audiences and concert halls, the piano sonatas are his most personally-expressive works, revealing an individual outlook on a genre of music cultivated by that great triumvirate of the Classical period – Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven.’
Ries also composed eighteen violin sonatas, which were brought out by Bonn music-publisher, Simrock, who also published much of Beethoven’s music. On this latest release from Naxos, Kagan is joined by violinist and fellow-American Eric Grossman, in an exploration of three of Ries’s violin sonatas, two from his op. 8 set, and his op. 19, all world-première recordings. However, unlike the piano sonatas, which have been released as part of a series of volumes, by starting here with a well-chosen selection from the eighteen extant examples, it gives the record company the option of releasing further violin sonatas in the future, or just letting this present single CD speak on behalf of the other fifteen.
It is interesting that the opening movements of the Sonata in F, Op. 8 No. 1, recorded first, and the Sonata in C minor, Op. 8 No. 2 that follows, have more than just a passing acquaintance with movements by Beethoven himself. While the latter first movement is very reminiscent of the corresponding movement from Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in the same key, Op. 10 No. 3, the F major Sonata opens in a pastoral vein, with a main theme which immediately hints at Beethoven’s ‘Spring’ Sonata for violin and piano in the same key. Rather than reinforcing the idea that Ries is merely mimicking his teacher – what follows, in both of Ries’s sonatas, after the initial ‘homage to Ludwig’, really does confirm that the younger composer has an individual voice, and subsequently embarks on quite a different musical journey from his master.
Of the violin sonatas as a whole, Kagan continues: ‘(They) are models of the Viennese Classical sonata style established by Mozart: most are in three movements, with first movements in sonata-allegro form, lyrical slow movements in ternary (ABA) form, and rondo finales. Like Mozart, Ries divides the material to provide equal interest for both instruments.’ The Sonata in F largely adheres to this pattern, though is, in fact, a four-movement work, with a sprightly Scherzo and Trio in the tonic minor (F minor) following the opening ‘Allegro ma non troppo’, before a conventional, though short slow movement, leads to the finale, with its essentially rustic theme. However, this soon contrasts with the central episode, where staccato triplets evolve into a vigorous fugato section (like a fugue, but not fully played-out), and something which, according to Kagan in her compact, yet succinct and informative sleeve-notes, is an unusual event in Ries’s music, where polyphonic writing is ‘generally avoided’.
The characteristic dotted rhythms and robust dynamics of the ‘Allegro con spirito’ that open the Sonata in C minor, imbue it initially with an almost martial character, but this soon turns lyrical, in which vein the ensuing ‘Adagio cantabile’ slow movement continues, and which also then acts as the perfect aperitif to the lightness of the closing rondo, with its staccato texture and preponderance of rapid repeated notes.
The so-named Grande Sonata in F minor, while the shortest of the three works on the CD, is nevertheless conceived in large scale, both with regards structure and content, and with its key, and the dramatic insistence of the opening movement’s main theme, link it in character to Beethoven’s ‘Appassionata’ piano sonata, written some five years earlier. Unlike Beethoven’s work, Ries’s sonata begins with a short and poignant ‘Largo espressivo’ introduction – not unlike the opening of Beethoven’s earlier ‘Pathétique’ sonata, but providing nowhere near as dramatic a lead-in. Ries maintains the feverish mood of the ‘Allegro agitato’ throughout, despite the occasional sections away from the over-arching minor tonality, and the movement’s calmly-understated close. The following slow movement, in a gentle triple measure, and in the relative major key (A flat major), has a simple charm and eloquence that makes it extremely endearing and pleasing on the ear, but with sufficient contrast within, to hold the listener’s attention throughout. The overall playful mood of the final rondo also has more than enough variety, both rhythmically and melodically in its main theme and episodes, to sustain it, with some real fireworks in the central episode. The music has a decidedly Schubertian feel, both thematically, and in Ries’s use of tonality, where more remote keys figure, and there is often a characteristic shift from major to minor and back. Yet again Ries chooses to finish like a lamb, rather than a lion – something Beethoven does in the opening movement of his ‘Appassionata’, but not in the work’s tumultuous and clattering coda to the finale.
Whichever way you look at this latest Ries CD from Naxos, you will surely not be disappointed. The playing, positioning and recording are first-rate, and the three pieces recorded are charming, entertaining and with a good feel for motivic development. Whether they form part of a more extended investigation into the composer’s repertoire for violin and piano, or remain just a one-off sampler, at the bargain price offered, they are simply too good to miss.
– Philip R Buttall, MusicWeb International
Alessio Bax Plays Beethoven
If you happened to see Daniel Barenboim’s 2003 Beethoven master classes on DVD, you might remember an unusually poised young pianist, Alessio Bax, who chose the “Hammerklavier” sonata’s daunting final movement. Fast-forward 11 years to Bax’s recording of the complete work, coupled with the composer’s ubiquitous “Moonlight” sonata. Bax might not take the “Hammerklavier” Allegro at Beethoven’s admittedly optimistic metronome marking, but the hurling momentum, lean yet nuanced textures, and astute ear for voice leading (the amazingly well contoured fughetta, for instance) convey both structure and kinetic energy. Also note Bax’s explosive build-up of the upward alternating broken fifths and sixths leading into the recapitulation, complete with the controversial “misprint masterstroke” Urtext A-sharp (played by Schnabel and Arrau) rather than the more logical yet less quirky A-natural (Brendel and Kempff).
The brisk, appropriately sardonic Scherzo features stinging offbeat accents and a ferocious upward F major scale buttoning the Trio. When I played the Adagio sostenuto for my college piano teacher, he constantly admonished me to “put some beef on that left hand.” I pass that advice down to Alessio! While he certainly sustains his slow basic tempo with the utmost in expressive economy, he does tend to uniformly voice his slow-moving chords, with the top melody line to the fore. Bax brilliantly characterizes the Largo’s madcap mood swings and broken chord transition into the Fugue, while the Fugue itself is a knockout: brisk, clear, clean, and jazzy as hell.
Bax sets an ideal and flexible pace for the “Moonlight” sonata’s iconic Adagio sostenuto, which he plays gorgeously. A few of the Allegretto’s clipped phrase endings and teensy tenutos strike me as what one of my British colleagues describes as “a mite twee.” However, Bax’s rhythmic discipline, focused articulation, and sharp attention to dynamics in the Presto agitato finale make the performance sound faster than it actually is.
Under Bax’s virtuosic fingers, the Chorus of the Dervishes whirls with Lisztian abandon. On the other hand, his overly fast and lightweight treatment of the Turkish March lacks the thrust and force of Beethoven’s original orchestral version, not to mention the once-popular Anton Rubinstein transcription. Reservations aside, this release adds up to an impressive achievement for which Bax should be proud.
-- Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com
Dalberg: The String Quartets / Nordic String Quartet
Nancy Dalberg (1881-1949) completed three string quartets, and they hold a place of their own among her compositions. No. 1 in D minor was the very first instrumental work that she presented at a public concert (1915). No. 2 in G minor, op. 14 (1922), was the first work that was published and played outside Denmark, while No. 3, op. 20 (1927), which is dedicated to her teacher, Carl Nielsen, was not published during her lifetime. The present release of the three quartets features two world premiere recordings. Nancy Dalberg is considered one of the first female composers in Denmark, and she was the first woman in Denmark to compose a symphony. This release sheds new light on one of the world’s finest female composers, who due to her lifetime never got the acknowledgement she deserved.
-----
REVIEW:
This is a genuinely exciting release, and not only for the devotee of Scandinavian music. These are string quartets of genuine quality, revealing a distinctive compositional voice, here in very fine performances and transparent recording. The music is serious, often very muscular, both strong and rewarding, tonal and assured.
Nancy Dalberg is not well-represented on record, though there is an interesting compilation from 1999 (Da Capo 8224138) which contains orchestral pieces, including Capriccio for orchestra, Scherzo for String Orchestra ,eight selected songs, Fantasy Piece for Violin and Piano, and a performance of String Quartet No. 2 by the esteemed Carl Nielsen Quartet. Interestingly, the second quartet is something of a staple for Nordic and—especially—Danish quartets, yet the other two, no less worthy, are here receiving world premiere recordings. The earlier performance has many delights, is generally swifter than the new, yet the Nordic Quartet lose nothing in urgency while being served by superior sound. The new recording has the extra merit of being heard in the context of the other two, and my preference is for the new one.
Nancy Dalberg’s output was relatively small, consisting largely of songs and these quartets. Her orchestral works, mentioned above, also included a symphony—the first written by a Danish woman. Contemporaries commented that her symphony had nothing specifically feminine about it (why should it?). It would be good to have a modern recording—a cursory search revealed no sign of one.
The First Quartet was performed privately—among the players was Carl Nielsen, her friend and teacher. It follows the usual four movements with a cheery scherzo in second place. A strong sense of rhythm is evident in all three faster movements. The cello-led Adagio is both dark and intense, despite its brevity. Though written when Dalberg was still Nielsen’s pupil, this is no prentice work but a significant contribution to the medium.
The more familiar Second Quartet is very spirited, more instantly attractive, but the slow movement, Andante con moto e cantabile, again in third place, touches many depths in stern elegance.
The final quartet is in only three movements and is musically the most advanced and tightly constructed. There is no slow movement, but an intensity of feeling and some sense of sadness is evident throughout. Instruments often appear in high pitches (most notably the cello) and there is confident handling of the most complex polyphonic forms.
Recording quality is as fine as we might expect from this source, and my recommendation is unreserved.
– MusicWeb International (Michael Wilkinson)
Krug: String Sextet & Piano Quartet / Linos Ensemble
Arnold Krug, a contemporary of Brahms, is almost entirely forgotten today- unjustifiably so, as is amply proved by the two pieces of chamber music on this recording. He was a familiar figure in popular concert guides until well into the 1930s. In Wilhelm Altmann’s ‘Handbuch fur Streichquartettspieler (1929), for example, we read the following words on the String Sextet by this ‘subtle Hamburg composer’: “Though Krug’s Sextet by no means stands out with particular idiosyncrasy, it can hold its own with flying colors. In point of melody and sound the most successful movement is the deeply felt Adagio tranquillo, interrupted by an urgent and dramatic interlude in which yet another Tranquillo, almost doleful and certainly imploring, has been interpolated.” Successful, fresh, exhilarating- and for more than 40 years! Thus the adjectives heaped on the Linos Ensemble, over and over again. This is more than just the result of the ensemble’s busy schedule. It is also due to the common efforts they make to renew their interpretations, and their unwavering pleasure in newly discovered scores.
Kodály: Music For Cello Vol 2 / Kliegel, Preucil, Jandó
The Art Of Egon Petri - Concert Performances & Broadcasts, 1954-1962
There’s a caveat to be made about the actual piano sound on some of these off-air and private recordings; it can be rather harsh but it’s not at all unlistenable. There are also some imperfections to be expected – some wow and distortion (minimal and fleeting) some dropouts (ditto) as well as pitch distortion. These are all honestly noted in Music and Arts documentation and I should mention them here; they didn’t unduly trouble me. The repertoire is very much Petri’s canonical one – the last Beethoven sonatas, Busoni, Chopin as well as Bach-Busoni and Bach-Petri. He was always a charming exponent of Gluck, a more unexpected one here of Medtner. Of Liszt there’s but a fleeting glimpse – Venezia e Napoli, taped in the last year of his life.
We start with his Chopin Preludes Op. 28. Well, best to get this over with I suppose. I find his Chopin rather disappointing. His rubati in the Agitato opener are well judged if unexceptionable (he was known to scorn the emotive exaggerations of some of his colleagues) but he is very, very cool in No. 4, the Largo in E. There’s a dispassionate control in No. 6, a Lento from which, however, he seems to wish to expunge feeling. He is fine though in another Largo, No. 9 in E – his truly noble sound is affecting – but there isn’t enough distinction between the hands in No. 11, where he fails to differentiate the melody line in the right hand. There’s even a distribution between hands – something that seems to me afflicts No. 13 in F sharp as well. The Sostenuto in D flat (No. 15) is very dry playing indeed – Petri adamantine in his refusal to indulge colouristic potential; in addition his left hand covers the right at some crucial moments. He improves considerably for the B flat Presto and the power contained within as he does for the virility and energy of the Allegro appassionato conclusion (he omits Nos. 21 and 22 for some reason). Throughout I felt him most comfortable with the athletic, technical side of the Preludes and rather less indulgent towards the lyrical side that Busoni himself felt most ambivalent about. Of his Busoni indeed I could hardly say anything other than that it is magnificent. The Song of Victory from the Indian Diary is 1.16 of powerfully sustained pianism of an exalted level whilst the eloquence of the Bluebird Song shows that what he failed to do so glaringly in Chopin he could manifestly do in Busoni. The final dance shows off Petri’s superb rhythmic control, his colour and his sheer depth of tone (never overdone). He was seventy-seven when he was taped in Busoni’s All’Italia – sheer virtuosic panache. The disc finishes with twenty-five minutes of Petri with the eminent pianist Carlo Bussotti in a stratospherically impressive Fantasia Contrappuntistica; the two men seemingly joined at the musical hip so intense and marshalled their decisive vision.
The second disc is rather more bits and pieces – but what bits what pieces. The Medtner is very impressive playing indeed if not quite in the Moiseiwitsch or Medtner class. The Danza Festiva is rather heavier than the composer’s own recording but the Op. 20/2 Fairy Tale in B has some seismic attacks. The Schumann Fantasiestücke are in somewhat splintery sound but he plays them with rather more overt affection than he did the Chopin; the Allegro con fuoco second is sonorous, the third is affecting, without affectation, and the Vivacissimo, Dream Visions is full of filigree drive, albeit one accompanied by a degree of tape distortion. His own Bach Chorale arrangements are justly famous as are his recordings of them. Sheep may safely graze is nourishingly intimate and beautifully adept with its sudden pianissimi, whilst I step before Thy Throne grows in authority and grandeur. There’s little real difference between Petri’s 1930s recording of the Minuet (from the W.F. Bach Notebook) and this one, made in 1958. His Schubert-Liszt is duly frolicsome and the Nocturne in D flat has quite a lot more vivacity and colour than he lavished on the Préludes, albeit his rhythm is rather heavy.
The third disc gives us his trademark Gluck-Sgambati Melodie – and this time he must cede to his earlier self; he’s heavier, more emphatic, less treble oriented preferring to concentrate instead on the middle voicings. The captivating beauty of that earlier recording has been replaced by a philosophic depth that does seem rather alien to it. His Beethoven Op. 90 Sonata is characteristically plain speaking and strong; the second of the two movements is especially buoyant and decisive. The Chopin examples here, the Sonata in B and the Nocturne in F sharp, are vitiated by choppy rhythm. Petri was seventy-eight when these performances were taped so maybe that has something to do with it but whilst there are tonally delightful glints in the opening Allegro of the Sonata it sounds as if, like a mathematician, Petri were actively breaking the movement – and indeed the work as a whole – into units. The algebraic-philosophic-contrapuntalist approach here renders much of this very disappointing. I liked the lento much more though and whilst the presto finale again suffers from rhythmic insistence there are still compensatory features of colour and vivacity.
The final disc is in many ways the most consistently elevated in musical terms, principally because it finds Petri addressing Beethoven. There are some technical frailties in the opening of Op. 109, it’s true, but more important by far is the sense of powerful direction. Again the tiny Prestissimo second movement taxes him for a moment but we should concentrate on the Andante finale. Here Petri is very direct, almost casual, but as the movement advances and his architectural priorities become clearer we are aware of a mind of illuminating integrity at work. By the later variations he develops a degree of metrical flexibility that one would not have earlier suspected. There is no undue sentiment and I would certainly understand those who hold this to be a logician’s Beethoven. My own instincts are for something more overtly expressive but I can but admire the tremendous concentration of his approach. The A flat Sonata, Op. 110, again taped in 1954, certainly lacks to my ears the molto espressivo in the first movement requested of the performer. But Petri is careful to reserve the weight of his intelligence and tonal resources for the first, Adagio section of the finale. He keeps this moving with an almost Arietta delicacy, though he certainly employs weight and shading. The Fuga is strong and determined. In Op. 111 his Maestoso is fast, strong, with no great tonal beauty to it. I have to say I found it inflexible, on one level and rather superficial. It’s a performance that seeks to divide and fracture still further, rather than reconcile, the character of both movements. With a pianist such as Solomon the seemingly disparate and oppositional movements take on congruence and a retrospective sense of rightness. With Petri the implacably oppositional nature of the Sonata is starkly delineated. In that Arietta finale Petri is flexible without coming to a stop; his syncopated passages are driving, even a little peremptory, but he never seeks to extract huge weight of left hand tone or to indulge abstraction. This is intelligent, lean, technically adept and impressive playing, whatever ones view of its ability to move, which I happen to find relatively limited.
Documentation consists in the main of an interview between annotator Frederick Maroth and Petri’s English pupil, Claire James who had attended the famous Busoni-Petri two-piano London recital of 1921. They deal with the central features of Petri’s pianism with acumen, as one would expect, with some quietly revealing information disclosed along the way. This is a set of some real importance in capturing Petri’s art at a time when he was given considerably less than his due. Even at his most phlegmatic his brand of musical stoicism added an imperishable page to the annals of pianism on record in the twentieth century.
-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International
