Search: 7 results found for "sonata no. 119 in f major, l 119"

Joining the celebrations of the 250th anniversary of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791), BIS is reissuing a landmark in the past ten years of Mozart recordings. Originally released as single discs are gathered, for the first time, all ten CDs of Ronald Brautigam's complete cycle of Mozart's music for solo piano, performed on the fortepiano. Six discs of the 18 sonatas are accompanied by four discs with the composer's many sets of variations as well as occasional pieces. Together they form a panorama, seen through his own preferred instrument, of the great master's progress: from the 8 Variations (KV 24), written around Mozart's 10th birthday, to his last piano work, the Variations in F major (KV 613), composed some months before his death. At the time of their original release, these discs were greeted with the highest acclaim: 'I have no hesitation in recommending this extremely musical and imaginative series of performances' (Gramophone, August 1997) and 'Brautigam explores these 15 sets [of variations] with jubilation and a sense of wonder in each single instant' (Diapason; December 2001) are only two examples of the opinions voiced. Highly advantageous terms - 10 CDs for the price of 4 - makes this an opportunity not to be missed!

HUMMEL Piano Sonatas: No. 2 in E?; No. 3 in f. Bagatelle in A?, “La contemplazione” • Susan Alexander-Max (fp) (period instrument) • CHANDOS 765 (67:11)

Johann Nepomuk Hummel (1778–1837) is an important transitional composer, especially from a pianistic viewpoint, between the late-18th and early-19th centuries; he is, unfortunately, also a composer who is underrepresented in the recording catalog. Among currently available recordings, Stephen Hough seems to be the only figure of international standing performing today to have devoted any effort to him. Two recordings that I think have stood out in the last 20 years have been the aforementioned one by Stephen Hough of three sonatas for Hyperion (67390), recorded back in 2003, and Dana Protopopescu’s album for Koch Discover (920237) of three sonatas, recorded in 1995. They both bring a virtuoso technique and a good musical sensibility.

Though I am no fan of the fortepiano, Alexander-Max is a good advocate for both the instrument and the repertoire. Her playing has sensitivity and a good attention to articulation and detail. Sometimes though, it is her attention to these small elements that hampers the overall flow of the music. Her tempos in the fast movements tend to be on the slow side: this provides her ample opportunity to bring out many details, but also tends to make the rapid scale and arpeggio patterns sound a bit sluggish. In comparing just the timings of the final movement of the F-Minor Sonata’s finale, marked Presto , Alexander-Max clocks in at 5:22 to Hough’s 3:59! There is no repeat in this movement, so the temporal difference is not reflected in the omission of any material. Even Protopopescu, who does not play this movement nearly as fast as Hough, clocks in around 5: 01—still over 20 seconds faster than Alexander-Max.

Tempo is not the only factor that makes the fast movements seem sluggish though; it is also the lack of intensity brought to many of the figurational patterns that lead to important beats. The focus for example in the E? Sonata’s finale, this time marked Allegro con spirito , seems to be more on the clarity of notes than on the constant surging motion. In the passage from 00:20 to 00:24, Hummel marks a crescendo moving from piano to forte in the span of two measures. In this performance, though a small crescendo does exist, the kind that Hummel requires does not. The tension and release inherent in the sudden dynamic buildup and rest, held with a fermata that follows this passage, is lost. Though the passagework is clean and articulate, the musical excitement is absent. There is a lack of drama.

There are many good aspects to this album as well. My favorite piece that the pianist plays here is the Bagatelle in A?. Marked Larghetto , it is a fantasy in which much of the beginning material comes back with added figuration. Here, Alexander-Max chooses not only a good tempo, one that flows and allows the movement to progress naturally, but also brings all of her interpretative skills to the fore. She maintains an acute sense of articulation and voicing, and a quality of freedom, almost improvisatory at times—all essential for a fantasy. Her ending pianissimo is as delicate and beautiful as any I’ve heard.

This is a fine addition to the recorded discography of Hummel’s music. I would especially recommend it for period-instrument enthusiasts, though the two previously mentioned recordings, by Hough and Protopopescu—both on modern grand pianos—provide good, in some cases excellent, readings of this much-neglected repertoire.

FANFARE: Scott Noriega

SAINT-SAËNS Cello Sonatas: No. 1 in c; No. 2 in F. Suite for Cello and Piano • Maria Kliegel (vc); François-Joël Thiollier (pn) • NAXOS 8.557880 (77:32)

It has been previously noted that Saint-Saëns’s four major works for cello were composed more or less in tandem pairs. 1872–73 saw the twin births of the C-Minor Sonata, op. 32, and the A-Minor Concerto, op. 33. The composer was approaching 40 at the time; yet for a man who lived to 86, these may still be regarded as fairly early works. Not until nearly 30 years later did Saint-Saëns turn again to the cello, this time composing in reverse order the D-Minor Concerto, op. 119, in 1902, followed in 1905 by the Sonata in F Major, op. 123.

My only grumble about Jamie Walton’s Saint-Saëns CD (reviewed in 29:6) was that had he omitted “The Swan” movement from The Carnival of the Animals , there would have been just enough room on the disc to include the Second Sonata, thereby giving us all four of the composer’s major works for cello on a single disc. It turns out that in writing that review, I overlooked the even earlier, but hardly insignificant, 1862 Suite for Cello and Piano, op. 16, which, at 23 minutes’ duration, is even longer than the First Sonata and certainly qualifies as a “major” work.

With the current release, cellist Maria Kliegel and pianist François-Joël Thiollier fill in the blanks, offering us, along with the C-Minor Sonata, the earlier Suite and the later F-Major Sonata, both of which were absent from Walton’s entry. The juxtaposition of these works on the same disc affords us the opportunity to hear for ourselves the evolution, both professional and personal, of a man whose interior life may have been more complex than received opinion about him has otherwise led us to believe.

The five-movement Suite makes no pretense to a refracted antique or neo-Baroque style—as some of the composer’s early works do—despite note writer Keith Anderson’s assertion that its Prelude loosely resembles the arpeggio Praeludium of Bach’s G-Major Solo Cello Suite. Saint-Saëns’s Suite is an ardent, effusive romantic outpouring that has more in common with the young, though never youthful, Brahms than it has with anything from an earlier time.

The C-Minor Sonata, though coming 10 years after the Suite, is all surface Sturm und Drang somewhat reminiscent of Mendelssohn. It was works such as this that earned Saint-Saëns his reputation as an arch-conservative in thrall to German models and aesthetics.

The F-Major Sonata, written when he was 70, has clearly evolved away from the composer’s earlier, more immediately recognizable profile. Though still adhering to the principles of sonata form, the piece has about it a more through-composed feeling that is carried forward by a gorgeous rippling piano part rather in the manner of the composer’s own student, Fauré. More significant, however, is the genuine expressiveness and depth of the music, which clearly belie the notion that Saint-Saëns was but an extremely gifted tunesmith and facile craftsman with an uncanny instinct for writing music devoid of any meaningful substance.

Maria Kliegel can be heard in a wide range of repertoire that she has recorded for Naxos; with over 50 entries in their catalog, she is perhaps the company’s leading “stable” cellist, a term that unfortunately carries certain uncomplimentary connotations. Be assured that in Kliegel’s case they are not deserved, for she is a fantastic player with solid technique, spot-on intonation, and robust tone, which she projects with a great deal of confidence and authority. If her delivery is not quite as smooth and refined as that of the aforementioned Jamie Walton, my sense is that she wants us to perceive Saint-Saëns as both more serious and more substantive than he is often taken to be.

François-Joël Thiollier has also recorded extensively for Naxos, having made a specialty of the French piano repertoire. His partnering with Kliegel is a natural. For the excellent performances, fine sound, budget price, and smart programming, I’m inclined to call this disc indispensable for lovers of chamber music for cello and piano.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Musical scholars like Ralph Kirkpatrick, whose classic book on Scarlatti is here quoted at length (though without acknowledging the source), are understandably fascinated by the inexhaustible diversity brought to basically binary-form movements by this Sicilian-descended, Neapolitan-born genius, who spent exactly half his life in the Iberian peninsula. For music lovers in general, however, the fascination lies in his enormous vitality, his demands for unprecedented keyboard virtuosity and his highly individual use of melodic, harmonic, rhythmic and instrumental Hispanicisms that demonstrate how far he had fallen under the spell of Spanish folk-music and folk life.

All these facets are zestfully displayed on this stimulating disc. Apart from genuine Spanish dances—the bulerias of Kk492, the peteneras of 502 and the Andalusian 519 which bubbles from minor to major—there are impressions of street processions (490, 491 with unmistakable sounds of trumpets, horns and drums, and a marching element in 518) and the exciting rattle of castanets or tambourines in the rapid note-reiterations of 141, 119 and 455, and Scarlatti's unique telescoped chords (490 and the even more dissonant 119). His unexpected modulations and side-stepping key-changes are to be heard in several sonatas, and his stamping basses in 502 and 517. And besides the hurtling arpeggios or broken-chord patterns (141, 454) and chains of trills (118, 501) there are the Scarlattian quirks such as the out-of-step octave unisons in 203 or the surprise changes of metre in 502. It is a pity we can't see Staier performing the vertiginous cross-hand leaps in the remarkable 108, as well as in 118 and the exuberant 119, but the sheer breakneck speed at which he plays 517, shooting off like an arrow from a bow, will leave listeners breathless.

He uses a harpsichord of German type with the G in alt called for in 454, 455 and 502, makes a few logically defensible registration changes in some sonatas, and adds occasional discreet ornamentation on repeats (which are fully observed except in five cases). This is a most enjoyable disc, which I would recommend very highly: there are many recordings of Scarlatti, but this is among the best.

-- Lionel Salter, Gramophone [2/1992]

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Products

Mozart: Complete Sonatas & Variations / Brautigam

Hummel: Sonata In E Flat Major, Sonata In F Major / Alexander-Max

Schubert: Fantasie in F minor - Sonata in C major / Farmer, Callaghan

Complete Works for Piano Four Hands

Brahms: Piano Works

Saint-Saëns: Cello Sonatas no 1 & 2, etc / Kliegel, et al

Scarlatti: Sonaten pour le clavecin Vol 1 / Andreas Staier