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Loin dans les terres

Intuition

$18.99 Jun 23, 2017

We must not complain, we must fight'', is motto Louis Sclavis repeats almost like a mantra. The 64 year-old from Lyon likes the process this triggers. The son of a photographer, whose own photographs have been shown in exhibitions and adorn the covers of is newer studio aubms, began playing the clarinet at ten. His inspiration back then was the music of Sidney Bechet, France's biggest Jazz star at the time. From there he went on to the conservatory, where at sixteen he saw a concert by the Workshop d'Lyon and immediately began playing their sophisticated style of Free Jazz. ''You could say that I experienced a very fast transition from new Orleans Jazz and the music of Duke Ellington, which I also liked back then and still like a lot, to Free Jazz'', he laughingly admits. ''I only found out later what happened in Jazz musically inbetween.'' True to his fighting spirit, Sclavis soon engaged himself in the French - and European - Jazz scene with a vigor to match his extraordinary talent, winning the Prix Django Reinhardt in 1988 already and recording many ground breaking albums, such as ''Carnet des Routes'', inspired by a tour of Western and central Africa with Henri Texier and Aldo Romano. The concert documented on this album opened the WDR 3 Jazzfest at the Theater Gutersloh on February 2, 2017, which also happened to be Louis Sclavis' 64th birthday. As a present to himself and to his audience, he presented a new quartet that evening, with Sylvain Riffet, who more than stepped up to the plate as the second reed-voice on saxophone, the excellent Christophe Lavergne on drums and Sarah Murcia on bass. Sclavis adores this eclectic group and explains that especially Sarah Murica, best known in France for accompanying chansonnier George Moustaki or writing the score to a successful movie about Serge Gainsbourg, brings a different flair and freshness to the music. ''I like drummers and bassplayers, but they just did not appear on any of my last albums'', he says. ''So I was very happy to be playing with a real ''Jazz rhythm section'' again in Gutersloh.''

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Loin dans les terres
Intuition Jun 2017
CD
$18.99

Bach: 6 Cello Suites / Carmine Miranda

Centaur Records

$22.99 Mar 26, 2013

BACH Six Cello Suites • Carmine Miranda (vc) • CENTAUR 3263/4 (2 CDs: 130:10)

Since reviewing Truls Mørk’s version of Bach’s unaccompanied cello suites in 29:5, no fewer than six more accounts have crossed my desk. In chronological order, they were Jean-Guihen Queyras (31:4), Sara Sant’Ambrogio (33:3), Luigi Piovano (34:5), Hekun Wu (34:6), Tanya Tomkins (35:1), and Richard Tuncliffe (36:1). Some of the cellists used conventional cellos, others period instruments. All but two, however, had one thing in common: They were uniformly awful, though each in its own way, ranging from barely tolerable to downright execrable. The one I kept coming back to as my preferred and strongly recommended set throughout those reviews was the first on this list, the one by Jean-Guihen Queyras, with Hekun Wu being a close runner-up. Both, by the way, performed the suites on cellos in modern configuration.

Bach’s six cello suites are like a Siren’s call to cellists of all persuasions, luring many of them to ruin. And the thing is there’s no reason for it. Was it a singular achievement for Bach to write such technically challenging works for an instrument that was relatively new at the time, and a melody instrument to boot, one that takes even more kindly to intensive double-stopping than the violin? Yes. But are the cello suites comparable on levels of musical scope and intellectual depth to the unaccompanied violin sonatas and partitas? Not even close. There are no massive fugues in the cello suites and nothing that approaches the dimensions of the D-Minor Violin Partita’s Chaconne. The cello suites are exactly what their title tells us they are—six sets of relatively short, stylized baroque dances. Yet for cellists—and for some listeners, I think—they’ve taken on an import that may be beyond their actual significance in Bach’s output, virtually becoming every cellist’s initiation rite.

So, how does the young Venezuelan cellist, Carmine Miranda (b. 1988), fare in his initiation into cellodom’s manhood? Well, first a few words about this young artist, who is likely unknown to readers, as this is his recording debut; he was 22 when he recorded the Bach suites for Centaur in 2011–12. Miranda’s early training took place in his native country, where he studied at the Carabobo State Music Conservatory, then in the Latin-American Academy of Violoncello, and finally at the Simon Bolivar Conservatory of Music (the institution that spawned the famous “El Sistema”). Miranda then traveled to the States to study with Ross Harbaugh at the University of Miami, followed by further coaching under Yehuda Hanani at the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music where Miranda obtained his bachelor’s and master’s degrees and is a candidate for a doctorate.

In the U.S., he has performed at Carnegie Hall, Bowdoin Music Festival, the Bach Annalia Festival in Cincinnati, the Young People’s Festival in Chatham, N.Y., and is on the artist’s roster for the Close Encounters with Music Series in Great Barrington, N.Y., both under the direction of Yehuda Hanani and others.

Among Miranda’s awards are first prize at the 2005 Alhambra Music Competition, the National Prize for best soloist from the FMEA (Florida Music Educators Association), and the 2008–09 University of Cincinnati Cello Competition. He has collaborated with recognized international artists such as Yehuda Hanani, Awadagin Pratt, Rodolfo Saglimbeni and performed as a soloist with several chamber ensembles and orchestras, recently including the Caracas Municipal Symphony Orchestra. He is also the founder and member of the Troika Piano Trio comprised of violinist Joshua Ulrich and pianist Assaf Sommer.

Miranda, who authored his own album note, makes no mention of the instrument(s) he uses for these performances, how he handles the scordatura tuning of the Fifth Suite—does he retune his cello according to the original manuscript or use the modern standard-tuning edition?—or what he does to accommodate the Sixth Suite, believed to have been originally written for a five-string violoncello piccolo. His note speaks only of his personal impressions of, and responses to, the emotional and spiritual character and quality of each of the pieces. At one point, in fact, I was quite taken aback to read, “Interpretation of the suites has nothing to do with what is correct, accurate, and historical, but it rather has to do with going deep within the soul of the writing…” That raised a red flag for me, not to mention an eyebrow. I couldn’t help but think to myself that only the immodesty of youth could be so callow and cavalier with respect to the years of serious musicological research that have attempted to ascertain what is “correct, accurate, and historical,” and to the many veteran cellists who have spent more years studying these works than Miranda has been alive. But the proof, as they say, is in the hearing. And so I decided not to allow my annoyance with Miranda’s words to influence my judgment of his playing.

Instantly, from the very first bar of the G-Major Suite, the cellist that came to mind was Pablo Casals, a comparison that elicits no higher compliment. In my above-mentioned review of Tanya Tomkins’s Bach suites, I noted how slow and super-romanticized her readings were; she takes 3:16 for the opening Prelude, a full half-minute longer than Jacqueline du Pré, who, at 2:35, is hardly fast. So, I went back to Casals’s 1950s recording and found that he dispatched the Prelude in two minutes flat and without any rhythmic distensions or distortions. What about Carmine Miranda? 2:09. I don’t know if Miranda studied Casals’s recordings, but if he didn’t, it’s truly uncanny how closely he channels both the letter and the spirit of the great cellist’s example.

It’s really difficult to express in words the beauty of Miranda’s performances. His cello is a modern instrument, or at least one updated with modern fittings and tuned to modern pitch, but the tone it emits is lighter in weight than that which we often hear in versions played on modern cellos. Of course, much of that can be attributed to Miranda’s bowing. He doesn’t dig into the strings to produce guttural sounds. The tone is clean and clear and intonation perfect. But one expects more than technical proficiency, dexterity, and finesse; and more—much more than that—is what one gets from Miranda’s readings.

Alluded to above is the fact that these are suites of dances, and time and again, in extolling the virtues of Jean-Guihen Queyras’s performances, I’ve remarked on the way in which he manages to capture the essence of each dance step. Miranda, it seems to me, goes one step further (no pun intended). He hears, and allows us to hear, the historical roots of each dance and whence it comes, which is pretty funny when you try to square that with his comment that interpretation of the suites has nothing to do with the historical. Yet listen to Miranda’s courantes, and you will hear not just rapid tempos, but the very definition of the Renaissance dance as described by Thoinot Arbeau, the 16th-century French theorist who tells us that the courante was danced with fast running and jumping steps. If Miranda didn’t learn this from reading music history, he knows it intuitively, for it’s not just his accelerated tempos but the effect of rhythmic arrest you would observe in a dance that involved running forward several steps, then making a sudden jump, hop, or jerk to stop short the forward motion. In Miranda’s hands, the suites don’t just sound dance-like , as in stylized baroque refinements, they sound like actual Renaissance dances.

Likewise, Miranda’s sarabandes are played with the stately gravitas that would have been à la mode for a processional court dance in 17th-century France. Interestingly, the sarabande had its origins as a fairly fast dance a century earlier and quite likely in Mexico or Central America. When Spanish colonists brought the dance back to Spain with them, it was banned in 1583 for being obscene. It wasn’t until the sarabande made its way to Italy and then France that it became the slow, triple-meter dance that was widely adopted into the baroque suite.

I’ve never heard Bach’s cello suites played in quite this way, and while I wouldn’t want to be without the versions by Queyras, Hekun Wu, Casals, and János Starker, Carmine Miranda’s will not only join them, it will stand out as perhaps the most original and imaginative interpretations of the suites I’ve heard.

Centaur’s recording, too, is outstanding, capturing Miranda’s cello fairly close up but with sufficient air around it to allow for a natural sounding bloom, yet without any annoying echo effect. An album note states that the recording was made without any editing. This is a definite buy recommendation for both connoisseurs of Bach’s cello suites and those who appreciate cello playing at its best. I’d have to say that Carmine Miranda has passed his initiation with flying colors. Welcome to the ranks of the world class players.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

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Bach: 6 Cello Suites / Carmine Miranda
Centaur Records Mar 2013
CD
$22.99

Anton Eberl: Piano Concertos, Op. 32 & 40

CPO

$18.99 Feb 28, 2012

EBERL Piano Concertos: in E?, op. 40 1; in C, op. 32 2 • 1 Paolo Giacometti, 2 Riko Fukuda (fp); Michael Alexander Willens, cond; Cologne Academy (period instruments) • CPO 777354 (62:03)

One of these concertos, the C Major, is familiar to me through a 2000 Koch Schwann CD featuring pianist James McChesney with the Slovak Philharmonic Bratislava led by Karl Kemper. Comparison with the current performance is instructive because McChesney’s version is a modern-instrument affair, while this new one uses period instruments or copies thereof. A c.1810 fortepiano by Viennese maker Mathias Müller from the Edwin Beunk collection is pictured on the inside of the booklet’s front page, and since no other instrument is mentioned in the text, I assume this is the one that was used for the recording.

Anton Eberl (1765–1807) has thus far barely made inroads into our musical consciousness. A handful of his works on a couple of CDs has found its way into previous Fanfare reviews, one by Brian Robins, the other by yours truly. Poor Eberl, his music considered second-rate in our time for being too derivative of and inferior to Mozart’s, and considered too good in his own time to be by anyone but Mozart. He had to write a letter to a widely read newspaper assuring the public that he, Eberl, was indeed the legitimate composer of the misattributed works. I wonder if anyone believed him, or if they thought he was a publicity-seeking fraud. Most of his more than 200 works are said to have disappeared, but a number of chamber works, pieces for solo piano, and these concertos remain and have been recorded.

It’s immediately obvious that the two works on this disc follow the pattern of the late 18th-century piano concerto perfected by Mozart. But further listening reveals details in both the scoring for orchestra and the type of keyboard figuration that ought to be clues to the trained ear that Eberl is closer to Beethoven than he is to Mozart. In the matter of scoring, Eberl’s approach to the orchestra is on a grander scale, making particularly bold use of horns and trumpets to articulate entrances and exits. Listen, for example, to the trumpet flourishes at the end of the first movement of the E?-Concerto. Passages for winds are also more extensive and more elaborate.

In the matter of keyboard figuration, Eberl doesn’t fall back on Alberti-bass left-hand patterns as often as Mozart does, and Beethoven-like passages in octaves and thirds appear more often than they do in Mozart. It would be a mistake, however, to conclude that Eberl is somehow a missing link between Mozart and Beethoven, for both of his concertos performed here were completed in 1804, nine and seven years, respectively, after Beethoven’s Second and First concertos. Given that, it’s likely that Eberl heard Beethoven’s concertos and was more influenced by them than he was by Mozart’s, which by then already belonged to an earlier era.

These performances are absolutely wonderful. The fortepiano can sound a little opaque in the lower middle register and bass, but its upper range sparkles. Comparing Willens’s reading of the C-Major Concerto with Riko Fukuda to that by Kemper with McChesney, I am really surprised by the difference in interpretive approach. Kemper/McChesney is much faster in all three movements—too fast, I think—than Willens/Fukuda: 12:18, 8:42, 8:45 vs. 14:09, 10:20, 10:02. Ironically, this makes Kemper/McChesney sound more like Mozart and less like Beethoven than the other way around, because Beethoven’s concerto allegros are more allegro moderato and his andantes more adagio than Mozart’s. Even though the Kemper/McChesney is a modern-instrument performance, the Willens/Fukuda has a greater sense of gravity and purposefulness to it.

The comparison applies only to the C-Major Concerto, since the Koch Schwann CD doesn’t couple it with the E?-Major Concerto. Paolo Giacometti’s playing in the latter is every bit as spirited and satisfying as Fukuda’s in the C-Major Concerto. An excellent recording, as is customary for CPO, adds to the strong recommendation for this release.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

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Anton Eberl: Piano Concertos, Op. 32 & 40
CPO Feb 2012
CD
$18.99

Bach: Orchestral Suites Nos. 1-4 / Fortin, Ensemble Masques

Alpha

$20.99 Jun 10, 2022

The orchestral suite, sometimes simply called ‘overture’ because of the imposing dimensions of its opening movement, enjoyed great popularity in the early eighteenth century, especially in central Germany. Bach had discovered the genre in his youth and cultivated it until his late period in Leipzig. This recording assembles his four overture-suites, including the famous Suite no.2 BWV 1067, which belongs among the late works. Numerous copying errors in the instrumental parts suggest that this piece was originally written a tone lower – in A minor – and therefore probably for a solo instrument other than the transverse flute: in the present recording, this first version, reconstructed from the clues mentioned above, is performed with solo oboe. ‘This is a work of austere beauty, in which contrapuntal skill and melancholic expression are combined in a highly original way with the carefully calculated dance rhythms’, writes Peter Wollny in the accompanying booklet article.

REVIEW:

I really like the spirited performances here. The tempos are brisk and the articulation of strings and winds is crisp. I particularly enjoy listening to the continuo. Their sound is vigorous; and the definition in Julien Debordes’s bassoon playing is remarkable. Having her take the lead in fast movements helps to keep the ensemble together, pushing the tempo forward. Notes are in English.

-- American Record Guide

From solo instrumental works to introductory choruses in cantatas, Bach revelled in the seductive style of the French Overture. His four orchestral Overtures, as these suites were known in Germany, have a variety and scintillating approach to instrumentation that puts them on a par with the Brandenburg Concertos.

Ensemble Masques, directed by Olivier Fortin from the harpsichord, comprises ten players. Their slender forces and predominantly fast tempos may not appeal to listeners favouring the ‘grand manner’ in these works, but these performances are both vibrant instrumentally and wonderfully responsive, as is clearly evident at the start of the first Overture with understated dotted rhythms underpinning some beautifully-shaped phrasing in the upper voices. The instrumental contribution is delightful throughout with plenty of ear-catching detail, notably Julien Debordes’s superb bassoon playing. Mathieu Loux, the oboe soloist – rather than the customary flute – in the second Overture, is also magnificent; his subtly unequal phrasing in the famous ‘Badinerie’ is a rare delight.

-- BBC Music Magazine

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Bach: Orchestral Suites Nos. 1-4 / Fortin, Ensemble Masques
Alpha Jun 2022
CD
$20.99

Bach: Sonatas For Violin & Harpsichord Vol 1 / Dael, Asperen

Naxos

$19.99 Jan 01, 2001

There are remarkably few differences, almost none of substance, between the performances on two recently released recordings--this one and another with Micaela Comberti and Colin Tilney on Dorian--of Bach's Six Sonatas for Violin and Harpsichord. (For comments on a third recent set, from Rachel Podger and Trevor Pinnock on Channel Classics, see reviews.) Even the first movement of the first sonata is exactly the same timing for both. Yes, Lucy van Dael's violin, at least in this sonic environment, has a somewhat richer, more resonant lower register (both instruments share the same bright timbre in their upper range), and Bob van Asperen's harpsichord is a bit rounder and warmer of tone than Tilney's. And in general, Comberti and Tilney's tempos are slower, which perhaps gives the impression of a sharper, more deliberate articulation from Tilney's harpsichord. Van Asperen's instrument is recorded slightly more distant than Tilney's, giving more prominence to van Dael's violin, which seems to go counter to Bach's intentions--these in fact are not solo sonatas per se, but trio sonatas in which the upper line of the harpsichord performs in duet with the violin, accompanied by the keyboard's bass line.

Comberti's fast movements at times sound too careful, while van Dael's have an air of frenzy about them that can produce sheer excitement (the Allegro of Sonata No. 2; the two Allegros in No. 4) or nervousness (the final movement of the first sonata), sensations that of course also will vary from listener to listener. There are exceptions: van Dael's slower Adagio in the E major sonata is exquisitely expressed, a lovely rendition of one of Bach's finest "arias", and her dashing final Allegro caps one of the set's highlights. The darker hues of van Dael's violin come into play most prominently in the C minor sonata's slow movements--the sumptuous opening Largo, whose gorgeous melody is the ancestor of "Erbarme dich" from Bach's St. Matthew Passion, and in the viola-like register of the Adagio. In contrast, Comberti's faster Largo sounds less like a song and the harpsichord's undulating figures are more noticeable, almost as if the players were consciously working to obliterate any associations with the melody's more famous religious context (there are hints of this in Tilney's detailed liner notes). Even so, Comberti and Tilney's slightly more leisurely Adagio in the same sonata is very effective, especially the rich violin tone, and here you particularly notice and appreciate the benefits to the overall sonority allowed by the Dorian recording's more even balance. Again, however, the more drawn-out final Allegro sounds merely workmanlike in comparison to van Dael's justly spirited rendition.

Two problems are solved in two different ways by the producers of each recording. First, the Sonata No. 6 went through several changes during Bach's lifetime and therefore the question arises as to how to treat the several existing alternative movements. Comberti and Tilney play the generally accepted five-movement version and add the "Cantabile" movement at the end of the disc as a separate track. Van Dael and van Asperen do the same, except that, in the interest of completeness and to fill out the disc's timing, they add three other alternative movements not found on the Dorian disc. Which brings us to the question of timing: the six sonatas are too long for one disc, too short for two. Dorian adds two "rarely played" harpsichord suites while Naxos chooses to skimp a little on the second disc's timing, which even with the added Sonata No. 6 movements comes to only 49:14. However, at Naxos' budget price, this shouldn't present a major concern even for those time-equals-value CD buyers--less is certainly not less in this case.

Needless to say, it's tough to choose a clear winner here--as so often happens, it's more a matter of personal preference, particularly regarding the instrumental balances. Both performances are top notch, cleanly and clearly articulated and characterized by an almost uncannily similar interpretive manner. I tend to prefer van Dael's singing style and richly colored instrument in the slow movements, but I also find Comberti and Tilney's equally weighted interaction provides a powerful richness to the textures that perhaps lends more legitimacy to their interpretation. Anyone for both? [Editor's note: the complete set of six sonatas on either Naxos or Dorian must be purchased in two separate volumes. The above review applies to the complete set although only volume 1 is indicated in the review heading.]
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

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Bach: Sonatas For Violin & Harpsichord Vol 1 / Dael, Asperen
Naxos Jan 2001
CD
$19.99

John Adams Edition / Berliner Philharmoniker

Berlin Philharmoniker

CD + Blu-Ray

$128.99 Nov 17, 2017

Contents of Blu-ray Discs

High Definition Concert Recordings: Harmonielehre, Short Ride in a Fast Machine, City Noir, Lollapalooza, Scheherazade.2, The Wound-Dresser, and The Gospel According to the Other Mary.
Bonus: John Adams in Conversation with Sarah Willis and John Adams in Conversation with Peter Sellars
Documentary: A Portrait of John Adams as the Berliner Philharmoniker's "Composer in Residence"
John Adams is considered the musical voice of America. His tonal language is at once unmistakable and of infinite variety. Minimalism mixes with imaginative orchestration and a jazz-inflected spirit to create a cosmos full of energy and colour that constantly reveals new facets. In a unique transatlantic partnership, John Adams has accompanied the Berliner Philharmoniker for a whole season as composer in residence. The orchestra performed a wide variety of his works, from the oratorio “The Gospel According to the Other Mary” and the famous “Harmonielehre” to more unfamiliar treasures. The concerts were conducted by chief conductor Sir Simon Rattle and outstanding guests: Gustavo Dudamel, Alan Gilbert and Kirill Petrenko. In the course of this partnership, John Adams himself also made his debut as conductor of the Berliner Philharmoniker.

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John Adams Edition / Berliner Philharmoniker
Berlin Philharmoniker Nov 2017
CD + Blu-Ray
$128.99

Haydn: Symphonies 88, 101 & 104 / McGegan, Philharmonia Baroque

Philharmonia Baroque Productions

$9.99 ~~$19.99~~ Save 50% Jul 15, 2015

There are no finer period-instrument Haydn symphony performances available than these. Using a nearly 50-piece orchestra (thank God!), McGegan captures the music's full grandeur as well as its intimacy. These players sound like a real orchestra, a group with a corporate identity, an attractive ensemble sonority, superb wind soloists, and, miracle of miracles, period strings that don't sound like a den of dying cats. McGegan's phrasing of the "clock" theme in the eponymous symphony's second movement is a model of stylishness and wit--listen and I dare you not to smile.

His pacing throughout is ideal; allegros are swift but not so much as to blur characterful detail. The minuets are perfect; trumpets and drums cut through the texture without turning crude; tuttis really fill the acoustic space, and the dynamic range is aptly wide. No performance of these works follows Haydn's dynamic markings literally, but McGegan's adjustments flow with the music and invariably come across as natural--check out the finale of the "London" Symphony for some particularly telling examples.

The live sonics are generally very good, particularly given the fact that the recordings were made over a three-year period (2007-9). In Symphony No. 88 close miking makes the sound a touch rough in places, and I could do without the applause at the end of each work, but the audience otherwise is extremely well-behaved and extraneous performance noises are happily quite minimal. We need Haydn recordings like this: warm, humorous, affecting, yet fully cognizant of period scholarship and style. They are far too rare.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

3523540.az_HAYDN_Symphonies_104.html

HAYDN Symphonies: No. 104, “London”; No. 88; No. 101, “Clock” • Nicholas McGegan, cond; Philharmonia Baroque O • PHILHARMONIA BAROQUE PBP-02 (75:16) Live: Berkeley, CA 2/10–11/2007, 11/15–16/2008; 9/12–13/2009

Nicholas McGegan and his San Francisco period-instrument ensemble are renowned for their many Handel recordings, but they play music of all eras. This is the first Haydn I’ve heard from them. This 2007 performance of the “London” Symphony is marvelous: The opening Adagio-Allegro brims over with high spirits, highlighted by blazing brass and pounding timpani; the Menuet has grace as well as bounce (McGegan does not play da capo repeats), and the Trio has a delicious lilt, with the merest hint of a luftpause in measure three. The finale is somewhat rough and ready, but its Spiritoso direction is fully realized. Comparisons with other performances do reveal a few shortcomings. As used to be the case in period ensembles, violins are rather dull; those in Richard Hickox’s Collegium Musicum 90 are clean and bright. Hickox’s forces are also better balanced and recorded (by Chandos); McGegan’s woodwinds are often drowned out by screaming trumpets. However, the Hickox has nowhere near the drive and élan of this performance. Nor can McGegan’s strings match the crisp attacks and phenomenal execution of either Colin Davis’s Concertgebouw or Leonard Bernstein’s New York Philharmonic.

The opening Allegro of No. 88 goes beautifully; the movement has no trumpets or timpani. Violins are brighter in 2008, as is the recorded sound. The Largo, however, is a disaster. Bassoons are weak; even when the pair shares the solo line, they are nearly inaudible. Taken even faster (5:30) than the impatient George Szell (5:53), this performance totally misses the movement’s calm beauty. Largos are always difficult; holding the line at a very slow tempo takes enormous concentration and ensemble discipline. Hermann Scherchen almost manages, at a lumbering 10:04; Bernstein’s 7:04 is ideal, in a uniquely lovely rendering. McGegan’s Menuet is back on track; his slow Allegretto works well. The Allegro con spirito finale, again reasonably paced, is also a success—until the coda. In this live performance, McGegan (adrenaline kicking in?) ups the tempo at the last minute, and the final three chords are smudged. Bernstein opts for a ludicrously fast tempo; his virtuoso ensemble pulls it off.

The “Clock” gets a fine performance at mostly consensus tempos; the 2009 sound (they were all at the same site, the First Congregational Church in Berkeley) is more reverberant than before but very well balanced. The Andante is too fast; is McGegan, like Szell, allergic to slow music? The bassoons revive here, but oboe and flute are a bit sour together. Menuet and Finale are magnificent; the wrong-note trumpet joke sounds cleanly, the clarinet-brightened score resounds, and this time the final three chords are crisp.

Good period performances of late Haydn symphonies have been hard to come by. This disc ranks among the best.

FANFARE: James H. North
"...Nicholas McGegan has been honing the San Francisco-based period-instrument Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra for some 25 years. Nor are performances of Haydn’s music in period style anything new. But seldom have his elemental dynamic contrasts sounded so properly in proportion or so mercurial, with the 50 or so players able to play out lustily in fortes and pull back quickly to quieter modes, whether playful, subtle or mysterious...The recordings, made at the First Congregational Church in Berkeley, Calif., from 2007 to 2009, were beautifully produced and engineered by David v. R. Bowles...The release of cumulative excitement at the end of each [symphony] is of a kind that tends to happen only in live circumstances."

- James R. Oestreich, The New York Times [June 24, 2011]

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Haydn: Symphonies 88, 101 & 104 / McGegan, Philharmonia Baroque
Philharmonia Baroque Productions Jul 2015
CD
~~$19.99~~ $9.99

Witt: Symphony, Flute Concerto / Gallois, Sinfonia Finlandia Jyvaskyla

Naxos

$13.99 ~~$19.99~~ Save 30% Aug 31, 2010

WITT Symphony in C, “Jena.” Symphony in A. Flute Concerto in G, op. 8 • Patrick Gallois (fl, cond); Sinfonia Finlandia Jyväskylä • NAXOS 8.572089 (69:37)

Born in the same year as Beethoven, the longer-lived Friedrich Witt (1770–1836) is acknowledged today, if a bit shamefacedly, as the composer of the so-called “Jena” Symphony once attributed to Beethoven. Not a single note of the score changed between the time it was believed to be by the great Ludwig Van and when it was discovered not to be; yet critical opinion of the work plummeted like the stock market on the report of bad news. Funny how that happens—yesterday buy, today sell, though nothing but the name of the note issuer of record has changed.

Recordings of Witt’s works represent but the tip of a sizeable iceberg; fewer than 10 of his works, as far as I can tell, have been recorded. Yet he is believed to have written as many as 23 symphonies, numerous concertos for various instruments, a considerable volume of chamber music, a number of operas, and an oratorio, Der leidende Heiland (The Suffering Savior), which secured him an appointment as Kapellmeister at the court of the Prince-Bishop of Würzburg in 1802.

Prior to this, however—sometime around 1792 or 1793—while Witt was serving as cellist at the court of Oettingen-Wallerstein and taking composition lessons from Antonio Rosetti, he laid eyes upon four of Haydn’s latest “London” Symphonies—Nos. 93, 96, 97, and 98—which Haydn had sent to Wallerstein. This, according to Keith Anderson’s booklet note, and other biographical sources I’ve come across, was Witt’s moment of dawning light, a light that, paradoxically, would eventually dim his own lamp in the pages of music history. Witt’s worst “crime,” it seems, was not simply imitating Haydn to the point of near plagiarism, but doing so at a time when Beethoven was busy “liberating music” from the strictures of classical content and style, if not quite yet classical form. In other words, Witt chose the path of the arch-conservative. History thereby ended up lumping him together with the lesser contemporaries of Haydn and Mozart instead of with the lesser contemporaries of Beethoven and Schubert, whom Witt outlived by the better part of a decade. Which lumping would have been better for Witt’s posthumous reputation I’m not sure; neither changes the music he wrote.

Witt’s G-Major Flute Concerto, newly recorded here, has been recorded before. It was included on an MDG Gold disc that also contained the composer’s Sixth, so-called “Turkish,” and Ninth symphonies. Johannes Moesus led the Hamburg Symphony Orchestra, and the concerto was played by flutist Susanne Barner. That release, which I happen to have, was reviewed by Barry Brenesal in Fanfare 29:2.

As for the “Jena” Symphony, don’t believe everything you find, or don’t find, at ArkivMusic. As of this writing, the site lists only the current Naxos recording. But the work has appeared on disc before as far back as the 1950s. An LP on the Concert Hall label with Walter Goehr conducting the Netherlands Philharmonic has been transferred to CD, and there is a downloadable Deutsche Grammophon version with Franz Konwitschny. Versions on Urania with Rolf Kleinert leading the Leipzig Philharmonic and with Wolfgang Hoffmann leading the Rhineland Philharmonia on Musical Heritage Society also exist.

In hindsight, it’s hard to imagine how Witt’s “Jena” Symphony, written sometime before 1796, could ever have been mistaken for a work by Beethoven. Even Beethoven’s earliest orchestral works, namely the first two piano concertos, present an entirely different sound world from Witt’s symphony. Beethoven’s melodic contours are different, as is his way of writing for winds and of extending and developing his thematic material. Witt’s symphony is pure Haydn. Listen to the first movement’s second theme beginning at 2:13. In shape and style, it’s close to a dead ringer for the first movement’s second theme in Haydn’s D-Major Symphony No. 93, which was one of the four “London” Symphonies that Witt had access to at Oettingen-Wallerstein.

The Adagio likewise proceeds in Haydnesque melodic phrases and harmonic gestures, while the Menuetto is big on formal flourishes, curtsies, and that big ballroom-band sound common to so many of Haydn’s minuet movements. It contains none of the sprinting, whiplash elements that, in Beethoven’s hands, would transform the minuet into a scherzo. The last movement, a spirited Allegro, would have brought a London audience to its feet, just as Haydn’s finales did. If you love Haydn (and who doesn’t?), and his 106 symphonies aren’t enough for you, you can listen to Witt’s “Jena” Symphony and pretend it’s Haydn’s 107th, or you can listen to it and appreciate it for what it is, the work of a master copycat.

The A-Major Symphony, written perhaps a year or two before the “Jena,” seems somehow lighter and fleeter of foot. A passage or two in the first movement sounds as if it’s about to lapse into the bubbly, scintillating passagework one hears in Mozart’s “Linz” Symphony. The one surprise Witt has in store for us is that he places his Menuetto in second position, before the Andante. Though not unprecedented—Haydn did it in his C-Major Symphony No. 32—the practice was uncommon before 1830. Beethoven, in fact, didn’t reverse the order of the two inner movements in any of his symphonies until the Ninth, though it’s arguable whether the Eighth even has a slow movement at all.

Though Haydn wrote close to four dozen concertos for various instruments, the medium was not his in the way it was Mozart’s, and Witt seemed instinctively to realize this, turning instead to Mozart’s concertos as the model for his own G-Major Flute Concerto of 1806. With so few of Witt’s works available on record, it would be rash to say that this concerto is his crowning achievement. I think it’s safe to say, however, that it displays a wealth of melodic invention, ample virtuosic challenges for the soloist, a richness of orchestral writing, and an originality of ideas that seemed lacking in the symphonies. With as fine a flute concerto as this, I’m surprised that flutists aren’t lining up to add it to their repertoires.

Until I received this recording, I thought that Susanne Barner on the aforementioned MDG disc was perfectly fine, but compared to renowned flutist Patrick Gallois on this new Naxos CD, she sounds rather laid-back and a bit mechanical in her delivery. Gallois sparkles and tosses off Witt’s arpeggios, runs, and roulades with panache. The Sinfonia Finlandia Jyväskylä, under Gallois’s direction, also sounds more spirited and alert, not to mention better recorded than the Hamburgers under Moesus.

Taking that into account, along with the fact that this, to my knowledge, is the only modern recording currently available of Witt’s “Jena” Symphony, Gallois becomes the entry of choice. A selling point of the MDG is that it contains two of Witt’s other symphonies not duplicated on the current disc. So, I shall be keeping both; but for those wanting to sample Witt’s work that has netted the most ink—the “Jena”—and what may be one of his most masterly works—the flute concerto—Naxos’s CD is a no-brainer and a bargain to boot.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Hands up who has heard of Friedrich Witt. Not many probably, for Witt seldom even makes it to the footnotes of musical history books. His main claim to fame is that his Symphony in C major - which is the first work on this recording - was once mistakenly attributed to Beethoven. In the early 1900s musical researchers uncovered the score and found the master’s name written next to two parts of the manuscript. Remembering that Beethoven himself had intimated that he had once attempted a symphony in C, the researchers put two and two together and got it wrong. It was left to H.C. Robbins Landon to prove that the work was really by Witt, a cellist and composer from Wallerstein.

Nevertheless, the Naxos tradition of bringing the obscure to light has paid off in this recording. The three works presented give a fascinating insight into the kind of music that was being written in the tin-pot courts of Germany while the likes of Beethoven were developing revolutionary new means of expression in Vienna. This does not mean that the music is poor. Quite the opposite. It is bold and attractive stuff.

The C major symphony (nicknamed ‘Jena’ after the city’s university, where the manuscript was discovered in 1909) was composed in 1796 and is clearly influenced by Haydn. This is no coincidence. It is known that in 1792 or 1793 Haydn sent four of his London symphonies - Nos. 93, 96, 97 and 98 - to Wallerstein, where Witt must have seen them. The opening allegro is upbeat and playful, with a touch of Haydn wit. The ensuing ‘Adagio cantabile’ contains an attractive melody, while the finale is a fast-paced race to the finish that makes good use of the comparatively large orchestra at Witt’s disposal - including timpani and trumpets, as well as flute, oboes, bassoons, horns and strings.

The Symphony in A major is less riveting. Written about six years earlier, it lacks Haydn’s positive influence and is hemmed in by simple and rather restrictive sonata-form structures. The Flute Concerto in G is much more satisfying. This work was published in 1806 and benefits from a fuller, heavier, orchestral sound. Nevertheless, it still inhabits the sound-world of Haydn and Mozart rather than ‘Eroica’ Beethoven. Patrick Gallois ably tackles the tricky flute solos while simultaneously conducting the Sinfonia Finlandia Jyväskylä. There is a quasi-Romantic opening to the second movement, followed by a fine flute melody which is developed and decorated. But the final Rondo brings us safely back to the late eighteenth century.

-- John-Pierre Joyce, MusicWeb International

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Witt: Symphony, Flute Concerto / Gallois, Sinfonia Finlandia Jyvaskyla
Naxos Aug 2010
CD
~~$19.99~~ $13.99

Johann Sebastian Bach: Sonatas for violin and harpsichord BWV 1014-1019 / Gaede, Alpermann

TACET Musikproduktion

$17.99 ~~$23.99~~ Save 25% Aug 06, 2021

The 6 sonatas for violin and harpsichord obbligato rank amongst the most beautiful chamber music that Bach wrote. They are overshadowed by the solo sonatas. This despite the fact that they are masterpieces in their own right, only without the aura of a magnum opus. The slow movements display a range of moods, from desolate and lonely to radiantly festive. Meanwhile, the fast movements are a mixture of high-spirited instrumental music and contrapuntal mastery. There are canons, fugues, chorale preludes and much more: practically a compendium of options. Daniel Gaede and Raphael Alpermann guide us through this treasure trove of curiosities with virtuosity and sensitivity. Once again: 2 albums for the price of one.

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Johann Sebastian Bach: Sonatas for violin and harpsichord BWV 1014-1019 / Gaede, Alpermann
TACET Musikproduktion Aug 2021
CD
~~$23.99~~ $17.99

Buxtehude: Trio Sonatas, Op. 1 & 2

Brilliant Classics

$14.99 Nov 21, 2025

The key to Buxtehude's trio sonatas, both for performers and for listeners, is an awareness of the stylus fantasticus which German composers of the late 17th and early 18th centuries developed in response to the new freely inventive style of Italian composers such as Claudio Merulo and Girolamo Frescobaldi. 'It is the most free and unrestrained method of composing,' wrote one contemporary theorist. 'It is bound to nothing, neither to any words nor to a melodic subject, instituted to display genius and to teach the hidden design of harmony and the ingenious composition of harmonic phrases and fugues.' The seven sonatas in each of these collections, published in Hamburg in 1696, offer a continuous succession of short movements, up to eight per sonata, which alternate between slow and fast tempi, and improvisatory and contrapuntal textures, dominated by a dazzling array of ostinato variations which embed the melodies in the listener's consciousness. We encounter witty solos, dialogues and conversations, sublime suspensions, jaunty syncopations and occasional excursions into strange and modal harmony. The expressive range is accordingly wide, venturing in Op.1 No.6 into a D minor realm of darkness and desperation. The musicians on this new recording of Buxtehude's trio sonatas are experienced and skilful practitioners of Baroque style, with an impressive catalogue of albums on Brilliant Classics to their credit. Valerio Losito has recorded the violin sonatas of Scarlatti, Telemann and Tessarini, among others, while Simone Stella has made complete surveys of the organ and harpsichord output by Froberger and Pachelbel - 'performed with natural flair, especially with respect to clarifying counterpoint' (Gramophone). Simone Stella introduces these fascinating works, milestones in the history of German-Baroque chamber music, with an extensive booklet essay. This is 'music full of lyrically delicate, sorrowful, and dramatic emotions,' he says, 'as well as melodious, harmonically gratifying, and full of vitality, a world of sound that consecrates him as a unique genius in the Pantheon of Music.' - Dietrich Buxtehude (c. 1637-1707) was a prominent German-Danish composer and organist of the Baroque period, renowned for his influence on later composers such as J.S. Bach and Handel. Best known for his sacred vocal music and virtuosic organ works, Buxtehude also wrote a substantial body of chamber music. - Published in 1694 and 1696 respectively, Buxtehude's Trio Sonatas comprise two sets of seven sonatas each. On this recording they are played with one violin, viola da gamba and harpsichord. These works represent a blend of German counterpoint and Italianate style. The sonatas are notable for their variety of forms, including fugal sections, dance movements, and expressive slow passages, the inventive use of harmony and rhythmic vitality reflecting the lively spirit of the early Baroque. The Op.1 and 2 sonatas are among the earliest significant instrumental works in Northern Germany, and they contributed to the development of the sonata genre. - Played by three foremost representatives of the Italian Historically Informed Performance Practice: Valerio Losito, Bettina Hoffmann (viola da gamba) and Simone Stella. Valerio Losito successfully recorded for Brilliant Classics works by Tessarini, Veracini, Dal Barba, Telemann and Alessandro Scarlatti.

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Buxtehude: Trio Sonatas, Op. 1 & 2
Brilliant Classics Nov 2025
CD
$14.99

Mix & Match

Bruckner: Symphonie No. 2 / Pinnock, Royal Academy Of Music Soloists Ensemble

Linn Records

SACD

$21.99 Mar 25, 2014

BRUCKNER Symphony No. 2 (arr. Payne). J. STRAUSS II Wein, Weib und Gesang (arr. Berg) • Trevor Pinnock, cond; Royal Academy of Music Soloists Ens • LINN 442 (SACD: 65: 39)

A Bruckner symphony arranged for chamber orchestra? That really shouldn’t work—but it does, and it’s a spectacular success. Jonathan Freeman-Attwood, principal of the Royal Academy of Music, is the brains behind the project, and top honors go to him for his astute choice of symphony and even more astute choice of arranger, the composer Anthony Payne. Add to that the arrangement itself, which is a triumph of clarity and timbral focus, an interpretation from Trevor Pinnock, who proves to be an insightful Brucknerian (who knew?), orchestral playing from students who need fear no comparisons with the finest professionals, and exceptional SACD audio, and the result is an unqualified success on every count.

The release is the second in a series called Reigniting Schoenberg’s Vision . The idea is to recreate—or even reinvent—Schoenberg’s famous Society for Private Musical Performances, performing some of the chamber arrangements of symphonic works made for those events, and even, as in this case, correcting Schoenberg’s omissions by adding to the repertoire. Bruckner’s Second “Symphonie” (as it’s referred to throughout the accompanying literature, a curious affectation) is a daring but smart choice. While it is not particularly small of stature, its identity, character, and charm emanate more from its quieter passages than from its climaxes. Payne follows the spirit more than the letter of the Schoenberg/Berg/Stein arrangements, using a 20-piece ensemble, larger than in any of the Vienna reworkings, but substituting the full orchestra in similar ways, particularly in the use of piano and harmonium to provide essential, although usually invisible, support.

Some of the climaxes feel underpowered, but even here the pros of the arrangement outweigh the cons. We hear the stratospheric violin lines, the chugging bass figures, and the brass fanfares with a rare clarity. But it is in the quieter passages that this version really comes into its own. At the start, for example, the theme is given to the cellos. Here, we hear it as a cello solo, elegantly phrased and all the more beautiful for the sense of intimacy a single player can bring. In later passages, the bassoon writing is a particular revelation, and just as beautifully played. The opening of the Andante second movement, pared down to string sextet, is transporting in a way that only the very finest recordings of the full symphony manage. Some of the scherzo sounds a little hollow, but Pinnock and his small brass section ensure the momentum is maintained through finely calibrated accentuation. And in the finale, an appropriate gravitas is achieved, even in the absence of weight.

Trevor Pinnock brings many of the preoccupations of the period instrument movement to bear on the work, yet it never sounds dry. Details of phrasing and accentuation are addressed in every bar, and the smaller ensemble allows him to shape and color accompanying textures with as much care as the main themes. His tempos are propulsive, but never rigid, nor excessively fast. He seems to be in a quandary over the caesuras. The tutti cut-offs don’t need the time to decay, but the severity of the mood changes often require a pause for reflection, which he always gives.

The instrumentalists perform to an exceptionally high standard throughout. The playing of the string sextet is particularly impressive, highly expressive but finely controlled and balanced. So too the woodwind soloists, blending their tone in ensemble but taking full advantage of the increased exposure in solos to play with character and color. To all the other accolades for Jonathan Freeman-Attwood we must also add recording producer, another field in which he excels. The recording was made at St. George’s Bristol, and the sound is warm, but never excessively resonant. The clarity that Payne achieves in his arrangement is amplified at every step by the quality of the recorded sound.

If I’ve one grumble, it’s with the coupling, Alban Berg’s arrangement of Wine, Women, and Song . It follows hard on the heels of the Bruckner without any gap at all (not even time to jump up and switch it off) and it adds little. In comparison to Payne’s detailed and clear textures in the Bruckner, Berg’s arrangement feels bloated and unfocused. Berg had a different acoustic in mind of course, and a different setting in every sense. Presumably this arrangement is included to highlight the link with the Society for Private Musical Performances, but it’s unnecessary. Whatever inspiration Freeman-Attwood, Payne, and the RAM musicians have drawn from Schoenberg is of only historical interest as far as this recording is concerned: The project needs no further justification than the exceptional quality of the results.

FANFARE: Gavin Dixon

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Bruckner: Symphonie No. 2 / Pinnock, Royal Academy Of Music Soloists Ensemble
Linn Records Mar 2014
SACD
$21.99

Holst: The Planets / York2, Fiona York, John York, Piano - Four Hands

Nimbus

$20.99 Feb 01, 2011

The coordination of the partners is marvelous, the variety of the sounds they produce is spectacular, and the feeling of the right sound at the right moment is priceless.

Gustav Holst was the Director of Music of St. Paul’s Girls’ School in London between the years 1905 and 1934. John York is currently the Senior Music Head of Department at the same school. It happened that in this school, in a cupboard of Holst’s room, John York found a leather-bound, engraved copy of Holst’s The Planets, arranged for 4 hands, one piano. The version was prepared with the help of two of Holst’s colleagues, Nora Day and Vally Lasker. Additional editing was done by John and Fiona York.

The 4-hand version is no substitute for the full orchestral one. This is probably most apparent in the opening number, Mars. The timbre of the heavy brass, like bellowing of battle elephants, colors this orchestral sound in violent dark red. Much of the musical progression is repetitive. In the full version this is concealed behind the constant change of color; the piano is not able match this ability completely. As a result, the music drags a bit. The final climax also loses much of its cosmic horror.

In the beginning of the static and mysterious Venus I get a feeling that a softer touch would have been better. But the further in the more I become enthralled by these impressionistic splashes, and the last minutes are magical. It’s possible that the performers deliberately avoided excessive softness, in order not to fall into the standard Debussian watercolors.

John York wrote in the liner-note that Mercury gave them the most trouble. Whatever their problems were, the pianists overcame them. The rhythmic precision is stunning. The silver glitter is dry and not too warm: the taste of Brut Champagne, exactly as needed.

Holst’s Jupiter is The Bringer of Jollity – and, surprisingly, that’s exactly what the music depicts: jollity, not solemnity, or grandeur, or other possible attributes of The Supreme One. This is Sir John Falstaff, dancing as he arrives, and humming the most hummable tunes! The music is not vulgar: there is much nobility in the Elgarian melodies, especially in the stately middle episode. This middle episode has the British imperial air around it, and the pianists play it with restraint. The performance is splendid, lively and bright, excellently conveying Holst’s humor. Music to raise your spirits!

Saturn is The Bringer of Old Age. Nothing is easy when you’re old, and the music breathes with an effort. Its steps are heavy. The middle episode quickens the tempo, and the tension grows. The climax is dark and heavy, though not as sinister as in the orchestral version. In the final part, the texture brightens and warms. There appear to be some good things in old age after all!

Uranus, the Magician seems to be a good pal of Dukas’s Sorcerer. In the orchestral version, the feeling of galloping power is created by mighty brass and colorful percussion. The piano version avoids being flat by using different registers. John and Fiona produce some spectacular fireworks here.

The soft shimmer and shine of the full-version of Neptune is painted by gentle woodwinds and by the mystic, wordless women’s choir, like voices of sea sirens coming through the fog. The Yorks manage to reproduce this misty atmosphere. Again, their piano does not sound for a single moment like Debussy: the sound is focused and well defined, and this only increases the depth and the mystery. Certainly, the finale of the original Neptune is unique, and there can’t be a substitute for that feeling of awe when the mesmerizing chorus enters. It’s out of this world, in all senses. But apart from this, frankly, I think that the Yorks hit the bull’s eye. The tempo, the dynamics, the viscid drift, the slowly swirling clouds – all is perfect.

It is very interesting to hear how such a rich orchestral score as The Planets can be rendered on a single piano. After listening to the entire suite, the conclusion has to be that the piano is a fantastic instrument! One should know all its psychology, but Fiona and John York don’t seem to lack anything here. Their sound is so different in each piece. My minor objections are mostly about Mars (I still find it drags after many listenings) and the beginning of Venus. But I understand that they can’t play much more than is in the notes, and the level of polish and attention that the composer devoted to this transcription certainly cannot compare to those that the orchestral version received.

As a fill-up we have some less familiar music: the Suite No.1 by York Bowen, to which the pianists added the Finale movement from the Suite No.2. This was a smart decision: the first suite, ending on the lyrical Nocturne, would sound incomplete, and with the added Finale it obtains a closed 4-movement structure, similar to Rachmaninov’s Second Suite. The Prelude has a wide Romantic flow, with rising and falling tides. It is warm and ecstatic, and sounds a lot like Rachmaninov, though with a simpler harmonic structure. The second part is entitled Dance, which does not seem to me a good description of its character. Its structure is tripartite. The outer parts are fast and cheerful, almost march-like. The middle episode is slower, more lyrical, and very songlike. The entire construction seems overlong for its contents. Nocturne again borrows some melodic and harmonic moves from Rachmaninov (or, through him, from Borodin). It is warm and sensual, and builds to a dramatic climax. The music has movement and depth. John and Fiona give it a beautiful and expressive – I’d even say, loving - performance. The Finale is mercurial and happy. It has some nice Lisztian waterplay, and ends just at the right moment.

This disc is a piano duo feast. The coordination of the partners is marvelous, the variety of the sounds they produce is spectacular, and the feeling of the right sound at the right moment is priceless. Regrettably, the music itself has a certain second-hand feeling, though for different reasons. The 4-hand version of The Planets is a faithful portrait of the full version, but much is lost. However excellent the playing, I doubt I’ll ever take it to listen when I have the orchestral version next to it on the shelf. And Bowen’s work could too easily be attributed to Rachmaninov. No doubt, another “Rach” piano suite is a good thing, but it’s not quite on the same level of inspiration.

Still – my standing applause to York2, who once again prove their reputation as a “duo with a difference”! Where can I get in line for their future discs? The recorded sound can be bettered in terms of depth and presence. It is clear, but somewhat two-dimensional. The booklet contains an excellent essay by John York about the history of creation of The Planets (both the original and the piano version), and more.
-- Oleg Ledeniov, MusicWeb International

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Holst: The Planets / York2, Fiona York, John York, Piano - Four Hands
Nimbus Feb 2011
CD
$20.99

Handel: Trio Sonatas Op 2 / Brook Street Band

Avie Records

$19.99 Oct 01, 2013

HANDEL Six Trio Sonatas, op. 2. Passacaille, op. 5/4 • The Brook Street Band (period instruments) • AVIE 2282 (69:49)

Handel’s music is always such a joy to listen to, I’m not sure how much we should trouble ourselves over how his works are identified or numbered in the listings. But just to clarify what’s on this disc, the updated or modern version of the Händel-Gesellschaft catalog places these sonatas in Volume XXVII, headed “Kammermusik: Sonate da Camera.” Falling under this heading are four subheadings or Parts, of which op. 2 is consigned to Part III: Nine Sonatas for Two Violins, Continuo, and Bass, as follows: B Minor, op. 2/1 (HWV 386b); G Minor, op. 2/2 (HWV 387); B? Major, op. 2/3 (HWV 388); F Major, op. 2/4 (HWV 389); G Minor, op. 2/5 (HWV 390a); G Minor, op. 2/6 (HWV 391).

But that’s only six. The Händel-Gesellschaft catalog places nine sonatas in this grouping. So what gives? Well, here’s the scoop: op. 2/1 (HWV 386b) turns up in an alternate version as HWV 386a, but in C Minor instead of B Minor, my guess is to accommodate performance on flute in place of violin. There’s an HWV 392 in G Minor, which was not published in the original op. 2 set of six sonatas, and which is considered spurious by some Handel scholars. And finally, there’s a Sonata in E Major listed as op. 2/9 (HWV 394), again not published as part of the original set. But when the set was first published in 1733, they appeared in print as “IX Sonatas or Trios for Two Violins, Flutes, or Hoboys with a Thorough Bass for the Harpischor [sic] or Violoncello.”

The Brook Street Band gives us the standard six listed in the first paragraph above, including as a bonus, the Passacaille, which I headlined as coming from op. 5/4, but which Handel actually made use of in a number of different works. I can’t be sure why the players have ordered the sonatas on the disc as they have—Nos. 3, 2, 4, 5, 1, and 6—but a good guess would be to avoid the adjacency of minor-key sonatas, three of which are in G Minor. One other note: Though the Händel-Gesellschaft catalog places these sonatas under the category of “Kammermusik: Sonate da Camera,” all but one of these sonatas are of the chiesa (church) type, meaning they’re in four movements that follow a slow-fast-slow-fast layout. The exception, No. 4 in F Major, adds a fifth movement, an additional Allegro , at the end.

Since the original printing indicates that these sonatas or trios may be played by two violins, flutes, or oboes, The Brook Street Band, named, by the way, for Handel’s London residence, divides the pieces up accordingly; however, the ensemble, as it’s constituted, is oboe-less. Members are Rachel Harris and Farran Scott, Baroque violins; Lisete da Silva, flute and recorder; Tatty Theo, Baroque cello; and Carolyn Gibley, harpsichord.

Despite the 1733 publication date, it’s believed Handel composed these trio sonatas as early as 1722. Consider, though, that by then he was a well-established opera composer in London. Some of his most important operas date from this period— Ottone, Flavio, Giulio Cesare, Tamerlano , and Rodelinda were all composed between 1722 and 1725. I mention this because the slow movements of these trios are emotively expressive in much the same way as Handel’s arias are in his operas of these years, gorgeous cantilenas spun out with affective lyrical beauty. In contrast, the fast-paced movements anticipate the vivacious, energetic drive to come in the later organ concertos and concerti grossi. They’re full of spirited invention, and performed here by The Brook Street Band with lots of spring and bounce, along with some delightfully spontaneous-sounding embellishments added for good measure.

There is competition in these works, and it’s not insignificant, from groups like Sonnerie with Monica Huggett, and the Academy of Ancient Music, led by Richard Egarr. I have Sonnerie’s recording on Avie, and have been very happy with it. But The Brook Street Band’s playing strikes me as sounding freer, more natural, and less constrained. Perhaps the word I’m looking for is less studied. In any case, these are wonderful performances of uplifting music beautifully recorded. What more could you want? Very strongly recommended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

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Handel: Trio Sonatas Op 2 / Brook Street Band
Avie Records Oct 2013
CD
$19.99