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Take Good Care Of My Heart

SteepleChase

$22.99 Jan 01, 1986

This recording with the title song “Take Good Care Of My Heart” by Jermine Jackson was nominated for Down Beat’s “Jazz Album Of The Year” 1985. It was also nominated for a Grammy Polish Violinist/bandleader Michal Urbaniak (b. January 22, 1943 in Warsaw) studied violin (from age 6), soprano saxophone and later tenor saxophone. While working as a classical violinist after graduating from the Conservatory in Warsaw, Michal played tenor sax in jazz groups in Poland. He moved to New York in the 70s and has made numbers of highly successful albums with his own group.

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Take Good Care Of My Heart
SteepleChase Jan 1986
CD
$22.99

SINGERS THE SONGS / VARIOUS

UNIVERSAL UK

$11.99 Apr 24, 2026

Celebrate some of the greatest vocal performances ever recorded from legendary artists with this brand-new 3CD compilation. Spanning a huge 7 decades and a huge variety of genres, all united by... extraordinary singing and unforgettable songs. Kicking off with one of the most famous love songs of all time, 'I Will Always Love You' from Whitney Houston, CD1 sets a striking tone for the collection. Iconic pop moments from Robbie Williams and Natalie Imbruglia follow, alongside familiar favourites from Will Young, Lewis Capaldi and Amy Winehouse with 'Rehab'. The disc also features era-defining classics including 'Son Of A Preacher Man' from Dusty Springfield and 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough' from Diana Ross, before closing with a trio of timeless soul and jazz masterpieces from Stevie Wonder, Nat King Cole and Louis Armstrong with 'What A Wonderful World'. CD2 opens with the empowering anthem 'Respect' from Aretha Franklin and the irresistible groove of 'I Heard It Through The Grapevine' from Marvin Gaye. More timeless classics follow with hits from Jimmy Ruffin, Sandie Shaw, Bryan Ferry, and Kim Carnes, before a dramatic rock duo of Meat Loaf's 'Bat Out of Hell' and Bonnie Tyler's 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' take centre stage. The disc continues with a mix of soulful and emotive performances including from Chris Rea, Joan Armatrading, and Elkie Brooks, before culminating in the heartfelt modern ballad 'Because of You' from Kelly Clarkson. CD3 begins with disco and dancefloor anthems, from Gloria Gaynor's 'I Will Survive', Donna Summer's 'MacArthur Park' and Candi Staton's 'Young Hearts Run Free'. The energy continues with powerhouse vocals from Chaka Khan and Thelma Houston, alongside pop smashes from Laura Branigan, Cher, and Kylie Minogue with 'Can't Get You out of My Head'. Contemporary classics from George Ezra, Leona Lewis and Christina Aguilera lead into a stunning finale highlighting some of the most loved vocalists of all time with a signature song - including Shirley Bassey, Nina Simone, James Brown, Ben E. King's 'Stand By Me' and 'One Day I'll Fly Away' from Randy Crawford.

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SINGERS THE SONGS / VARIOUS
UNIVERSAL UK Apr 2026
CD
$11.99

Mix & Match

ULTIMATE COLLECTION

REAL GONE MUSIC

$57.82 Mar 06, 2026

ULTIMATE COLLECTION STEVE LAWRENCE / EYDI GORME The first track on this 4-CD set is "This Could Be the Start of Something Big," and it sure is: here, at last, is the Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme collection all of their fans have been waiting for, the biggest and (by far) best-sounding set ever devoted to the pair of legendary pop vocalists. Under the supervision of their son David Lawrence (who contributes a personal note to the booklet), we've gone back to the original tapes for most of these 72 tracks; some of these have never appeared on CD, and, with Eric Boulanger's new remastering, the ones that have come out sound much better than they did before. Disc One, "Duet Classics," features such career touchstones for the couple as "Baby It's Cold Outside," "For Once in Your Life," and "We Got Us." Disc Two, "Steve Classics," brings the hits with "Portrait of My Love," "Footsteps," and "Go Away Little Girl" along with such signature renditions as "I've Gotta Be Me" and "I Want to Be with You" and even an unreleased track, "You and I." Eydie takes over (and how!) on Disc Three with such smashes as "Blame It on the Bossa Nova," "What Did I Have That I Don't Have," "If He Walked into My Life," "Tonight I'll Say a Prayer, and her Spanish-language classic with Trio Los Panchos, "Sabor a Mi." And Disc Four revels in the duo's love of Broadway with songs like "Mama, A Rainbow," "The Ladies Who Lunch," "Two on the Aisle," and the uproarious "The Honeymoon Is Over." Like this collection, Joe Marchese's liner notes follow Steve and Eydie's career every step of the way, and we've included some rare photos courtesy of the estate. The ultimate collection indeed, the comprehensive, career-spanning collection these two icons have long deserved!

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ULTIMATE COLLECTION
REAL GONE MUSIC Mar 2026
CD
$57.82

Shades of Mourning

Sono Luminus

$16.99 Aug 08, 2025

I am writing these words while the Middle East, my place of birth, my roots, is bleeding. There are no words that can describe the pain, loss and suffering I see in the land and it's people on a daily basis. Like me, my friends, family, and neighbors who live on the other side of these fences that were built to divide us, carry an excruciating pain that grows deeper as the wars continue - pain that will live in hearts and souls for generations to come. I wanted this project to bring people together through music. My grandfather, born in Syria and shaped by hardship, believed in peace until his last day. Because of him, I believe in peace, and I hope this is one belief I will never have to grieve. The sonic landscape of conflict-the sudden silence after chaos, the irregular heartbeat of distant artillery, that unnatural quiet following destruction-has inevitably found it's way into my musical language. These experiences of personal loss, collective grief, and enduring hope became the foundation for the music in this album, each piece exploring different sides and shades of mourning. Shades of Mourning This album began, unknowingly, at my grandmother's deathbed. I didn't realize then that the piece I wrote while she was taking her last breaths would grow into an album, nor did I yet know I was a composer. The room was dark and hushed, air hanging motionless as though time itself had paused. Outside, the world continued it's rhythms, but in that space, existence narrowed to the shallow rise and fall of her chest. "Shades of Mourning, " which opened this collection of compositions centered around the process of grief, is a passacaglia - a farewell to a woman who shaped my life in ways I'm still uncovering. It opened a door to composing as a form of grief, reflection, and memory-and became the foundation of this entire work. Roots While grieving my personal loss, I found myself reflecting on my family's history and how it shaped both my identity and my music. When composing "Roots, " I wanted to create something that contrasted with the first piece - something wild, unexpected, unapologetic. I wanted to capture that visceral feeling of blood connecting to soil, of heritage running deep in our ground. Each note seemed to carry the weight of stories passed down through generations, a lineage both heard and felt, resonant as ancient memory. I asked myself: what do our roots mean to us, and to others? How much of our history lives in our cells, and how much is rewritten with each generation? Intermezzo A few months after my grandmother's death, I found myself at an artist residency in the Catskills. After being so close to her in her final moments, I experienced a privilege that many don't get to experience - breathing fresh air amid some of the world's most beautiful scenery. The garden welcomed me with meticulous care, an explosion of green against the blue sky. Flowers nodded in gentle breezes, while the sunlight warmed my skin. My ears filled with nature's music - birdsong trilling above the steady, the murmur of the Hudson River flowing past. There, surrounded by life's persistent beauty, I found a stark contrast between loss and renewal. It was here that I met Purcell Palmer, the founder of the residency, who became a dear friend. She passed away just months later. I wish she knew how profoundly she and her home affected me, how much healing I found in the sanctuary she created. I dedicate "Intermezzo" to her memory. And Maybe You Never Used to Be As time passed, grief evolved beyond my personal loss to become a central theme in my life, as it has for so many others around the world. I found myself processing not just the death of loved ones, but the loss of friendships, ideas, ideologies, and deeply held values. Inspired by Philip Glass's minimalist works, I created this four-movement string trio to explore these different dimensions of loss. "And maybe you never used to be" - my first chamber music work - opens the collection with a question: what happens when the things we thought were certain begin to shatter? My Clouds of Grief During grieving, there comes a stage when you wake each day under a dark, inescapable cloud. It follows you-pressing down on your chest, shadowing every breath. The weight settles into your bones, as if colors drain from the world around you; food loses it's taste, becoming nothing but texture. Even laughter from passing strangers sounds distant and hollow, as though filtered through thick glass. I wanted the music to envelope listeners in this heaviness, to let them experience how it feels when grief becomes your constant companion, surrounding you in it's seemingly infinite darkness. The End of Times Perhaps the most delicate and lush movement of this collection. Through the subtle effects of mutes, I explored the strings' capacity to create delicate colors and textures, searching for sounds that could capture an existential question: What does the end of times feel like? At a certain point, it felt as though I was living through such an ending. In this movement, I grapple with uncertainty - will we find relief in our final moments, or will pain be our lasting legacy? The music whispers these questions through veiled tones and gentle dissonances. Imaginary World While wars, conflicts, and unthinkable violence continue to plague our world, I find myself seeking refuge in imagination. Grief, pain, and sorrow are collective human experiences that touch every aspect of our lives, appearing in different shades and meanings, leaving lasting imprints on our souls. In my imaginary world, no living creature suffers. We exist side by side, caring for each other despite our disagreements and painful histories, working together to leave this world better than we found it. Inspired by the Mishima Quartet, whose music offered me solace during dark times, I created this movement. May it bring you the same joy and comfort that this music brought me. Prelude & In My Blue How do we conclude this journey through love, loss and grief? "Prelude" opens the path to the final track "In My Blue." "In My Blue, " based on the theme of it's Prelude, travels through harmonic changes and rhythms, much like the way grief transforms over time. The music creates a sensation of gentle vertigo, as if the room slowly revolves around you-a melancholy dance in darkened space where shadows become partners and notes hang in the air like suspended memories. During my darkest moments, I found unexpected solace in music - not just in creating or practicing it, but in letting it become my sanctuary. Inspired by Chet Baker's 'Almost Blue' and referring to the gentle sway of Bossa Nova, I imagined a love story between people who know deep pain intimately, yet still find the courage to dance together. I wanted to end this album not in sorrow, but with the same quiet hope that music has always given me - the possibility that even after profound loss, we can still move forward. Together. Tamar Sagiv is a cellist and composer whose musical language bridges classical tradition with contemporary expression. Her work explores themes of memory, identity, and emotional resonance, often drawing on personal experiences to create sound worlds that feel both intimate and universal. Her original composition Roots-a reflection on heritage and belonging-was premiered at her Carnegie Hall debut in May 2023, and performed alongside her mentor, acclaimed cellist Matt Haimovitz, at the Cello Biennale Festival in Amsterdam. Originally from Northern Israel, Sagiv began her musical training at the Kfar Blum Music Center with Uri Chen and continued at the Israeli Arts and Science Academy in Jerusalem with Prof. Hillel Zori. She earned her Bachelor's Degree from the Buchmann Mehta School of Music at Tel Aviv University, and completed both her Master's and Professional Diploma (PDPL) at the Mannes School of Music in New York City under Prof. Haimovitz's guidance. As a performer, she has appeared as soloist with orchestras in Israel and Germany, and played at venues including Lincoln Center, Alice Tully Hall, National Bohemian Hall, and the New York Public Library. Her music has been broadcast on Israeli National Radio since she was 16. Sagiv has participated in masterclasses with Steven Isserlis, Ralph Kirshbaum, Gary Hoffman, and Frans Helmerson, and attended festivals across Israel, Europe, and the U.S. Her achievements have been recognized by awards from the America-Israel Cultural Foundation, the Ronen Foundation, and a Certificate of Honor from Maestro Zubin Mehta. In 2022, she performed the music of composer James Simon-who perished in Auschwitz-at Carnegie Hall. Her debut album on Sono Luminus highlights her distinctive compositional voice and virtuosic playing, establishing her as a powerful new voice in contemporary classical music. Acknowledgements I extend my deepest gratitude to my husband, my mom and family for their unwavering belief and support throughout my musical journey, especially during moments when I struggled to believe in myself. I am profoundly thankful to my teachers who have shaped me as a cellist and musician: Matt Haimovitz, Felix Nemirovsky, Justus Grimm, Chagit Glaser, Hillel Zori, and Uri Chen. They opened my heart and ears, teaching me how to truly listen and nurturing my artistic growth. Special thanks to Leerone Hakami and Ella Bukszpan for their beautiful playing, artistic contributions, and cherished friendship throughout this project. To Michael Winger, whose guidance is invaluable to my development. To Noam Rappaport, my trusted confidant with whom I could share my mind and inner musical world-your friendship and insights have been immeasurable. I am grateful to Michael Lahr and Gregoij von Leitis from Elysium - Between Two Continents for their cherished friendship and support and for the Catwalk Institute for providing me with the creative space needed to compose these works. My sincere appreciation goes to Yaffa Ronen and the Ronen Foundation for their continued support of my career and artistic development. Special thanks to Sono Luminus for believing in this project, and to Simone Dinnerstein, Paola Prestini, and Pavlina Dokovska for their inspiration, guidance and encouragement through the years. Recording, Editing, & Mixing Engineer: Wei Wang Mastering Engineer: Daniel Shores Producer: Tamar Sagiv Recorded at Skillman Music - Brooklyn, NY 11211 January 31 - February 13, 2024 Tamar Sagiv - Cello, Composition Leerone Hakami - Violin (Tracks 4, 5, 6, 7) (left) Ella Bukszpan - Viola (Tracks 4, 5, 6, 7) (right) Photo credits: Zan Wang & Apar Pokharel Liner Notes: Tamar Sagiv Layout: Joshua Frey Executive Producer: Collin J. Rae

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Shades of Mourning
Sono Luminus Aug 2025
CD
$16.99

The Year That Never Was - Piano Music / Matei Varga

Sono Luminus

$9.49 ~~$18.99~~ Save 50% Jul 08, 2022

Matei Varga writes: “To paraphrase Tolstoy, all happy memories feel more or less the same; but the unhappy times are experienced differently by each one of us. We’ve all had some really tough weeks, which sometimes turned into months, and (with a bit of bad luck) into years… I like to think that “off” years help us grow and prepare for the beautiful things that will undoubtedly come our way (I am an optimist at heart), but living through dark times is a complicated process.

The year 2020 was complicated indeed. The world was put on hold and we hardly remember what we did in February, or May, or September… Many suffered from isolation and the inability to socialize - and they probably prefer to think back to 2020 as a year that never happened… I, on the other hand, felt liberated by the lack of schedules, appointments and the pressure to be productive - that horrid word which is killing our souls, slowly but surely. Instead I embraced seclusion and enjoyed the time off which was forced upon us. Yes, I did miss performing in front of a live audience and traveling to beautiful places, but I found that staying home, with my piano, offered me a better view towards my inner self and a chance to experience the joy of a new discovery. That was for me the Cuban master Ernesto Lecuona…Two years later, the pandemic isn’t over and neither is the collective anxiety- but at least I can offer you this very personal recording, which I hope will take your mind away from current realities. This is music’s most phenomenal power- to bring joy when we really need it!...”

REVIEW:

The Year That Never Was in Romanian pianist Matei Varga’s title here is 2020; he writes of how he came to embrace the COVID-era isolation and explored the work of Ernesto Lecuona, a composer about whom he had previously known little. The output of Cuban composer Lecuona is sometimes categorized as salon music, and while it includes a few classical hits like the opening Andalucía (from the Suite española), much of his large production of some 600 works remains little explored. Here, the excerpts from the Danzas cubanas del siglo XIX and Danzas Afro-Cubanas will be worth the price of admission for Lecuona fans. He wants to expand the notion of salon music to include some of its predecessors, not only Chopin but going back as far as Domenico Scarlatti. That pandemic seems to have produced a boomlet in recordings of salon music, which is probably understandable, and Varga’s release is a novel take on the idea.

-- AllMuic.com (James Manheim)

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The Year That Never Was - Piano Music / Matei Varga
Sono Luminus Jul 2022
CD
~~$18.99~~ $9.49

1953-1954

CLASSICS FRANCE

$21.99 May 16, 2006

This CD contains the material Hawkins recorded for Al Benson's Parrot label in Chicago. Discographical details about these tracks remain incomplete but it seems all items were made in Aug. 1953 - despite various other recording dates found in reference-books and biographies. He was playing a residency at the "Toast of the Town" club in Aug. 1953 when Benson seized the opportunity to record for his new label. Only 4 tracks were actually issued on 45/78s - incidentally one with a romantic typo: "I'll Follow My Secret Heart" appeared as "I'll Follow My Sacred Heart!" Benson obviously tried to experiment, yet neither the vocal choir nor the organist helped Hawkins a lot. It seems that a 10" or 12" LP was originally planned but Benson never issued it. Tracks: I'll See You Later - What a Difference a Day Made - I'll Follow My Sacred Heart - Blue, Blue Days - Flight Eleven - Modern Fantasy - Confessing' - September Song - You Can't Take That Away from Me - Should I - Last Stop - Lullaby of Birdland - Get Happy - Out of Nowhere - Blue Lou - Stompin' at the Savoy - Just You, Just Me.

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1953-1954
CLASSICS FRANCE May 2006
CD
$21.99

Gay: The Beggar's Opera / Original London Cast

Sony Masterworks

$11.98 Oct 16, 2015

Richard Pillbrow and Harold Prince’s production of "The Beggar’s Opera" opened September 1968 at the Apollo Theatre in London. Starring Peter Gilmore, James Cossins and Jan Waters, the production was first performed at the Cambridge and Edinburgh Festivals and later for London Weekend Television. The story of Macheath and his band of beggars and thieves (and the basis for Kurt Weill’s more frequently performed "The Threepenny Opera"), John Gay’s classic eighteenth century ballad opera still delights audiences centuries later.

TRACKS:
1 THROUGH ALL THE EMPLOYMENTS OF LIFE 4:18 - Peachum and Company
2 VIRGINS ARE LIKE THE FAIR FLOWERS 1:12 - Polly
3 OUR POLLY IS A SAD SLUT 0:52 - Mrs. Peachum
4 CAN LOVE BE CONTROLLED BY ADVICE 0:48 - Polly
5 POLLY, YOU MIGHT HAVE TOYED AND KISSED 0:57 - Polly and Mrs. Peachum
6 THE TURTLE THUS WITH PLAINTIVE CRYING 1:22 - Polly
7 THROUGH ALL THE UNEMPLOYMENTS OF LIFE (Reprise) 0:39 - Company
8 MY HEART FOREBODES 1:09 - Polly
9 MY HEART WAS SO FREE 0:21 - Macheath
10 PRETTY POLLY 0:44 - Macheath and Polly
11 OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY 1:38 - Macheath and Polly
12 OH, WHAT A PAIN IT IS TO PART 1:06 - Polly
13 THE MISER THUS A SHILLING SEES 0:32 - Macheath
14 FILL EVERY GLASS 2:14 - The Gang
15 LET US TAKE THE ROAD 1:29 - The Gang
16 IF THE HEART OF A MAN 1:05 - Macheath
17 YOUTH’S THE SEASON MADE FOR JOYS 2:14 - Macheath, Jenny and Ladiesv 18 WHEN GOLD IS IN HAND 0:58 - Jenny
19 BEFORE THE BARN DOOR CROWING 2:39 - Jenny and Ladies
20 IN PIMPS AND POLITICIANS 2:25 - Peachum and Company
21 MAN MAY ESCAPE FROM ROPE AND GUN 1:22 - Macheath
22 HOW CRUEL ARE THE TRAITORS 1:32 - Lucy
23 WHEN YOU CENSURE THE AGE 2:59 - Peachum and Lockit
24 HOW HAPPY COULD I BE WITH EITHER 1:06 - Macheath, Polly and Lucy
25 WHY, HOW NOW, MADAM FLIRT 1:08 - Polly and Lucy
26 NO POWER ON EARTH CAN ’ERE DIVIDE 2:24 - Polly
27 WHEN YOUNG IN THE ’FORE 1:19 - Lucy
28 MY LOVE IS ALL MADNESS AND FOLLY 1:00 - Lucy
29 GAMESTERS UNITED IN FRIENDSHIP ARE FOUND 1:11 - Lockit
30 THE MODES OF THE CITY 1:02 - Macheath and Gang
31 LET US TAKE THE ROAD (Reprise) 1:48 - The Gang
32 IN THE DAYS OF MY YOUTH 3:32 - Mrs. Diana Trapes
33 COME SWEET LASS 2:45 - Lucy and Polly
34 OH, CRUEL, CRUEL, CRUEL COST 1:11 - Macheath
35 WOULD I MIGHT BE HANGED 1:17 - Polly, Lucy and Macheath
36 ALL YOU WHO BEHOLD THIS TERRIBLE SIGHT 2:52 - Clergyman and Company
37 THE RICH OF TODAY MAY BE BEGGARS TOMORROW 1:28 - Company

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Gay: The Beggar's Opera / Original London Cast
Sony Masterworks Oct 2015
CD
$11.98

Rachmaninoff: Complete Works for Piano Duo / Duo Genov & Dimitrov

CPO

$36.99 Jul 10, 2020

On the occasion of its 25th Birthday Anniversary, the Piano Duo Genova & Dimitrov realizes this year a fervent wish with a genuine mammoth project taking the pianists to their emotional limits in a form that has never been witnessed in the music world before: the two exceptional artists have recorded on cpo Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Complete Works for Piano Duo as a double album. The manifold colors in these pieces full of musical ideas are just spectacular… truly a captivating affair of the heart and an hommage to their idol Rachmaninoff. But nobody can describe this music better than the pianists themselves: "Rachmaninoff's Second Suite, Schubert's Fantasy, Mozart's Sonata!, this was the authoritative answer that we, being Postgraduate students at the Hanover University of Music, received at the end of 1995 from our teacher, the piano legend Vladimir Krainev, to our question which works we could prepare for our first piano duo competition. At that time, we would have never imagined that almost 25 years later from these few words the idea for this grand project would develop – a project we are now so particularly proud of." And justifiably so. Their impressive interpretations of the whole wide range of diverse compositions display Rachmaninoff’s multifacetedness in all its emotionally incredible, supercharged glory.

REVIEW:

This is a useful release from a discographical standpoint in that it accounts for every Rachmaninov two-piano and one-piano-four-hands composition or arrangement. The Genova & Dimitrov Piano Duo plays the Suite No. 1’s opening Barcarolle with less rubato leeway compared to Trifonov/Babayan and Ashkenazy/Previn. Although comparable strictness prevents the second movement from spilling all over the place, the players still allow the busy decorative background writing plenty of breathing space. The final two movements are excellently balanced, and it’s nice to hear the finale’s persistent “bell” ostinato roll out in long lined fashion, rather than hammered away.

The duo’s superb ensemble and careful balances make Rachmaninov’s early tone poem The Rock sound especially plausible and idiomatic in the composer’s “de-orchestrated” four-hand arrangement, although his Capriccio on Gypsy Themes loses some spice in translation, so to speak; it would have helped had Rachmaninov retained some of his original percussion parts! However, the ubiquitous C-sharp minor Prelude frankly gains little via its two-piano expansion.

I prefer the Genova/Dimitrov duo’s broader and lyrically inflected rendition of the not-so-interesting Russian Rhapsody to the heavier, emphatic Previn/Ashkenazy, while their expressive restraint in the Six Morceaux for Piano Duet contrasts to the Owen/Apekisheva duo’s slightly fussier approach. The Symphonic Dances stand out for Genova/Dimitrov’s wonderfully lithe and impetuously phrased finale.

Unfortunately the popular Suite No. 2 for Two Pianos proves this collection’s one real weak link. The Introduction transpires heavy-handedly, while the Waltz falls into predictable square-cut patterns and Tarantella lacks sufficient dynamic contrast. You’ll find far more flexibility and character in any of Martha Argerich’s Second Suite recordings (my favorites are the studio version with Nelson Freire and the live Gabriela Montero collaboration). Eckhardt van den Hoogen provides informative yet eccentric and stylistically convoluted booklet notes. Recommended on the whole, but make sure you’ve got an Argerich Second Suite handy.

– ClassicsToday (Je Distler)

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Rachmaninoff: Complete Works for Piano Duo / Duo Genov & Dimitrov
CPO Jul 2020
CD
$36.99

Noel / Angele Dubeau, La Pieta

Analekta

$20.99 Nov 09, 2010

Angele Dubeau and La Pieta take us around the world in a sparkling selection of Christmas themes for small string orchestra. Some tunes are familiar, others are new to us but ring with the essence of timelessness as they are surely international favorites bound for familiarity here through many repeated listenings. One characteristic every work on the program shares... simply beautiful melodies and the sound of shimmering, silken strings. This is a joyous and festive celebration sure to become a new holiday classic. - ArkivMusic

-------------------------

Silent night! Holy night! Hearing just a few notes of this eternal carol is enough to envelop us in a sweet tranquility and inner peace that goes well beyond the meaning of the words written by Joseph Mohr and music famous song by Franz Xaver Gruber. Jumbled memories arise of snow-covered countryside, crackling fires, delicious aromas filling the house, the joyful shouts of excited children unwrapping presents. Has Christmas turned into mere nostalgia, or can we rediscover the true meaning of this celebration? Angèle Dubeau thinks we can and, through both popular songs and carols works associated with the Nativity, she offers here a voyage through a world with diverse origins and traditions. This musical tour and celebration of the Nativity will take you to Finland, Italy, France, Germany, Austria, the United Kingdom, Russia, and, closer to home, Mexico and Canada, with the Huron Carol.

God Jul!

In Scandinavia, Christmas celebrations begin on December 13, the feast day of Saint Lucy, when a young girl is chosen in each village to represent her. Clothed in white and a crown of candles, she goes from house to house—along with a retinue of girls in white dresses and boys with pointy, star-spangled hats—bringing light, the symbol of life and renewal, for the coming year. In Finland, the official festivities begin with a declaration of “Christmas Peace” broadcast live on December 24 from Turku Cathedral. A few moments later, Christmas bells ring out across the country, as conveyed by Joulun Kellot (“Christmas Bells”), an interpretation written by Armas Toivo Valdemar Maasalo. Juleniss, the Finnish equivalent of Santa Claus, rewards good children during the night that follows; one wonders if he is tempted to hum the song Julvisa (“Christmas Song”, subtitled Give me no Splendour, Gold or Pomp), written by a young Jean Sibelius.

Buon Natale!

While Christmas in Italy might first bring to mind panettone, a Christmas sweet bread invented in Milan around 1490 that is served stuffed with cream, topped with a sauce or covered in chocolate, the country is above all the cradle of the Nativity scene. Indeed, Francis of Assisi created one of the first “living” nativity scenes in 1223, with villagers playing various character roles. Whether miniature or almost life size, these reproductions of the manger scene quickly became a tradition, with Italian families setting them up nine days before Christ’s birthday. It is not surprising, then, that two of Italy’s most well-known Baroque composers, Antonio Vivaldi and Guiseppe Torelli, dedicated idyllic concertos to “the holy birth.”

Joyeux Noël!

In France, cantiques de Noël remain the most important part of popular celebrations of the Nativity. By the 16th century, numerous versions of these carols existed in a variety of regional dialects, and they were distributed by door-to-door salesmen who also carried “Christmas Bibles” and engraved prints (often with a carol on the back). Here, Angèle Dubeau performs Noël nouvelet, Laissez paître vos bêtes and La Vierge à la crèche, set to a text by Alphonse Daudet.

Fröhliche Weihnachten!

In Germany, Christmas is Weihnachten (holy nights), and this is where the tradition of the Christmas tree originates. Legend has it that Saint Boniface (ca. 680–754) used the triangular shape of the evergreen tree to explain the concept of the Trinity to the pagans. The first mention of the modern Christmas tree dates back to 1521 in the Alsatian town of Sélestat. Even before this, however, the Christmas mystery plays performed in church squares frequently made use of trees decorated with fruit, offerings, decorations and candles (the candle tradition being attributed to Martin Luther). Two centuries later, Johann Melchior Molter wrote a delicate concerto grosso, inspired by the scene of the adoration of the shepherds.

¡Féliz Navidad!

In central America, Mexicans celebrate Las Posadas (the inns) which, starting December 16, commemorates Joseph and Mary’s search for lodging. As night falls, a procession sets off, led by children carrying a small decorated platform bearing statues of Joseph and Mary, who is riding a donkey. As the procession of villagers winds through the streets singing litanies, they knock at various doors along the route. Each time they are turned away with the cruel words “There is no room,” until the procession arrives at the appointed house or church. Then, the doors are flung wide in the open spirit of Christmas and the celebration begins, concluding with the breaking of a piñata, refreshments and dancing. The lullaby performed here, entitled “Sleep, Holy Infant”, comes from Dave Brubeck’s Christmas cantata, “La Fiesta de la Posada”, written to a text by his wife, Iola Brubeck and arranged by Russell Gloyd especially for Angèle Dubeau. Upon hearing the recording, Mr. Brubeck’s reaction was: “This is fantastic. She is playing from her heart.”

Hristos Razdajetsja!

Orthodox Russians have always liked to transform religious events into celebrations, hence the string quartet Jour de Fête by Alexander Glazunov, which evokes the festivities held on the night of January 6 to 7, Christ’s birthday on the Julian calendar. After the church service, everyone sits down to “Holy Supper,” which cannot be started until the first star appears in the sky, an homage to the star that guided the Magi. After the feast, tradition dictates that a plate of braided bread called kalach is left on the table between two candles, in honour of deceased members of the family. Angèle Dubeau offers here one of the rare recordings of this work.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas is celebrated enthusiastically in the United Kingdom. Houses are decorated with bright lights, children sing Christmas carols (such as “Holy Boy” by John Ireland) in the street, collecting spare change for the poor, and Christmas pudding is the traditional post-Christmas-dinner dessert. Another important tradition began here: the sending of Christmas cards, a custom that began in the 15th century and expanded significantly in the 18th century with the development of lithography.

Jesous Ahatonhia

The Huron carol Jesous Ahatonhia (Jesus is born) was written by the Jesuit Jean de Brébeuf in 1641. Hoping to better convey the meaning of Christmas, the priest adapted the text to the reality of the First Nations people. Hence, Jesus is wrapped in rabbit skins, he sleeps in a bark lodge, the adoring shepherds are replaced with hunters, and three Indian chiefs take the place of the Magi. Canadian composer Kelly-Marie Murphy based her work Huron Carol Interlude on the carol. The interlude of the title refers to the third movement of her string quintet Dance Me Through the Panic, from which she borrowed shimmering colours and a sense of melancholy, imbuing the carol melody with a very particular mood and evoking, in her own words, an “imagery of ice, snow, solitude and prayer.” When she heard this Angèle Dubeau’s rendition of her work, the composer wrote: “This is a wonderfully performed and produced interpretation of Huron Carol Interlude. There is a rich, full sound, with a perfect sense of pacing and colour. It expresses my ideas beautifully. Heartfelt thanks and congratulations to Angèle Dubeau!”

© Lucie Renaud
Translation: Peter Christensen

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Noel / Angele Dubeau, La Pieta
Analekta Nov 2010
CD
$20.99

Hans Gal: Violin Concerto, Concertino, Triptych / Annette-barbara Vogel

Avie Records

$19.99 Jul 01, 2010

A serious sense of purpose without dourness, harmonic variety without abstruseness, rhythmic vitality without being overly complex and immediate impact yet worthy of greater study.

It’s especially interesting for me to be listening to and reviewing this disc as I have just been ‘doing’ Egon Wellesz who, like Gál was an émigré as a result of World War II. Gál’s situation was, if anything, even worse as in March 1933, at a time when he had a role of some eminence in German musical life and also a little in Austria, he was forced out of his position on account of his Jewish background. He fled to England. After many vicissitudes he ended up working and living for the rest of his life in Edinburgh.

The Violin Concerto comes from the period 1931-2 when Gál was at his most successful in Germany. It is in many ways quite an untroubled work. Throughout it I kept pinching myself that this was not a British concerto as it seems to bear little relationship with the Austro-Germanic tradition of the late Romantics or early moderns prevalent at the time. The ‘Fantasia’ opening movement and the second movement marked ‘Arioso’ begin with a very English-sounding pastoral melody on the oboe. The only vicious and angry writing comes in the cadenzas which Gál himself wrote. The piece was written for Georg Kulenkampff and Fritz Busch and is in three movements. The finale, a Rondo, is quite lively and the brightest of the three but the opening is a Fantasia with four or five contrasting ideas. The work as a whole hangs together in a most satisfactory manner. Annette-Barbara Vogel tells us in a brief essay that recording this work and indeed the entire disc has been her dream for many years. She can be triply proud of her efforts, those of the orchestra and of Kenneth Woods who enables the orchestration to breath with such clarity. The recording engineers must also take a bow.

It’s interesting that despite all of the difficulties thrown at Gál and his family in 1934 he wrote the genial, easy-going yet masterful ‘Improvisation, Variations and Finale on a Theme of Mozart’ for string quartet (Meridian CDE84557 - Edinburgh Quartet). In 1939 he wrote an equally lyrical ‘Concertino’ which, ironically is, if anything, more virtuosic than the concerto. Its opening Andante tranquillo is fecund with ideas, almost Fantasia-like. Its melody on cellos is almost Korngold and even more so when the soloist takes it up. But the second subject is strident and dotted. The work is in just two movements linked by a challenging bridge-cadenza before hustling in a ‘Rigaudon’. This was a melody which Gál noted down, apparently from a British Museum Manuscript dated 1716; in contrast there is a more romantic second subject. A nice touch is created by this idea melting away into another, briefer cadenza before the opening melody of the first movement returns with a sense of sadness and nostalgia. The dance tune is suddenly re-invigorated for a final fling in the orchestral strings and then by all, leading to a light-hearted ending.

The CD places ‘Triptych’ between these two concertante works. It dates from around Gál’s 80 ^th year when he was experiencing a late burst of creative activity. The excellent booklet notes by Eva Gál tell us that this was the time of Third Quartet in 1969, the Fourth of 1971, the Fourth Symphony of 1973 and a Clarinet Quintet of 1977. One is therefore reminded of late-flowering composers such as Berthold Goldschmidt and Havergal Brian. The Triptych is intractably conservative for its time. Indeed in the clarinet writing of the slow, middle movement - called a ‘Lament’ - and in the lyrical second subject of the third movement marked ‘Comedy’, one may well be reminded of autumnal Brahms. There are times anywhere in the work when other composers might come to mind. My wife, who really took to this “warm-hearted old man”, at one moment shouted out ‘Glazunov’ in the first movement (marked romantically, ‘Impromptu’). There’s even a hint of Elgar at one point. But this music is not shackled to any particular time and like its composer is related to no particular place. It has a serious sense of purpose without dourness. It has harmonic variety without abstruseness. It has rhythmic vitality without being overly complex. It has an immediate impact but is worthy of greater study.

The presentation is exemplary with photos and examples of Gál’s neat manuscript work and wonderful performances. If from my descriptions the music seems to have an appeal then search out this CD out because if successful then I suspect more Gál might appear in the next few years.

-- Gary Higginson, MusicWeb International

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Hans Gal: Violin Concerto, Concertino, Triptych / Annette-barbara Vogel
Avie Records Jul 2010
CD
$19.99

There I Long to Be

Sono Luminus

$16.99 Sep 26, 2025

Who knew? Certainly, we did not. When the eight of us met at WBEZ in Chicago on September 13, 2022, we thought we were taking the first step toward recording a new CD. It was a fine day in the studio, we got a bunch done and it sounded pretty great, but then we spent much of 2023 working on a chamber theater piece that split it's time between LA and Chicago, leaving not much empty space to go back into the studio. January 5 of 2024 was the next time we gathered to record, this time at Tonal Park in Takoma Park, Maryland - and there were a lot of us. There were the five core members of the group, with Tim Langen on fiddle, and James Oxley, tenor, for a total of seven musicians. Dan was producing, Charlie at the console, and Lindsey overseeing it all. Honestly, it was a tough session. We had been overly optimistic about what could be achieved, perhaps we were under-rehearsed, and I had cancer. This is not a poor-pitiful-me-moment. It's just a fact that sometimes when you have cancer and you don't know it, you haven't been diagnosed, nothing feels right, and indeed, nothing felt right. Even in the haze of exhaustion and infirmity, there were shining, glittering moments of extraordinary music making. Isaac brought his saxophone. Ensemble Galilei, known for early music/traditional music crossover had never, ever, recorded with something that modern. Cape Clear, a traditional Irish air would be played on sax accompanied by the viola da gamba. Who knew? Both instruments rumbled and sang, Isaac's saxophone riding the red-hot coals of grief, with the gamba, in the basement of it's range, providing a partner in darkness. James Oxley poured himself into, Come Away, Death, with Jesse Langen's extraordinary guitar giving space, air, and light to the tune. Bernard McWilliams, the session photographer, was there when the jig set was being recorded, a straight-ahead Irish set that Tim, Jesse and Isaac had assembled a few days before, and he looked me straight in the eye and said, "That is like hearing pure joy." The Boys of Barr na Sraide with it's perfect imperfection still makes me cry when I hear Isaac singing, And when the hills were bleeding and the rifles they were aflame To the rebel homes of Kerry the the Saxon strangers came And the men who fought the Auxies and beat the Black and Tans Were the boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren. There was a biopsy on April 15, I told my surgeon that my first free day to go under the knife was June 17. I had things to do. We had recording sessions already scheduled. As our producer, Dan Merceruio, and I listened to the tracks from December, there was music that soared and there were pieces that didn't quite rise. We needed a fiddler. I called Hanneke Cassel who lives in Boston, asked her if she might have one day to come to DC to record, and when she said, "Yes, if it's May 6, " we were good to go. I flew up for a rehearsal, we went over the tracks she would be working on, she created beautiful and compelling parts, and May 6 was one of those days of focused creativity that one never forgets. At that time, there were two projects in the works, on parallel paths. For the first time, we were going to record an early music CD in a conventional classical music style. Ensemble Galilei had always been known as a crossover group, meaning that while it was true that we performed early music, traditional music was always right around the corner. We never sought to achieve a level of historical performance practice that might engage early music audiences, until now. There were just four of us when we met to rehearse in the spring, and when the rehearsals were over and we were convinced that we had something to say that had never been said before, we scheduled a session for June 6-9. Kathryn Montoya and I were the early music representatives from Ensemble Galilei and we would be joined by the extraordinary lutenist, Ronn McFarlane and the peerless English tenor, James Oxley. Unfortunately, right before James was set to fly to the US from England, he tested positive for Covid. The studio at Sono Luminus had been reserved, Erica Brenner our producer, had her tickets, and Robert Friedrich, our engineer, had packed all the equipment. We were going to record. That studio is designed for a group to record together - sharing space, hearing the music as it is being played, feeling the resonance of the room. There is no isolation, no overdubbing, no fixing that pesky buzzy string in bar four that will be problematic later. The sound of the recording will be broader, there will be more room sound, and the process is inherently different. You can see each other, hear each other breathe. And if you make a mistake, it lives on in everyone's microphone. There is, after all, a plus and a minus to everything. Those days of recording with Kathryn and Ronn were astonishing. Because we had three days booked (and since we weren't recording any of the vocal music), we could focus, really take our time, stretch out and listen, and with Erica gently guiding us, rearrange, and go again. It is rare that time is your friend in the studio, and for us in those days, it was. We were able to book the studio with James for August 4-6, and there we met again. True confessions, two of the songs that James sang are profoundly important in my life, and the way that he sang John Dowland's Flow My teares and Go Cristall teares made playing the bass line, with Ronn taking the lute part, an exquisite experience. And I do hear it, in the recording. All of that intention, all of that seemingly effortless technique (which we know is not effortless) and the heart that they put into the performances, these are the things that one lives for in music. I called Collin Rae, the head of Sono Luminus, on the way home from the session, hoping that he might have a great name for this Ensemble Galilei early music spinoff and he suggested that instead of releasing two different projects under two different names, that we release a single recording as a two CD set. Lindsey Nelson, our executive producer, who seems to always have the wisdom and experience to guide us when we are in uncharted territory, was in the car during that phone call. It was a mind-blowing moment. There were so many things that made sense about it, and at the same time there were major obstacles. We had always been an ensemble that embraced a wide range of music, so putting early music and traditional music on the same CD was business as usual. But we had recorded in radically different sonic environments, intentionally, and how we would marry these diverse soundscapes was challenging. But Collin was right. It was crazy to spin off a different group, give it another name, and release a CD. And while it had never occurred to Lindsey or to me, a two-CD set was the perfect solution. The summer of 2024 was tough, and yet astonishing things kept showing up. A few years before, I looked at our Spotify page for the first time and saw that we had millions of streams. Our big cities were Paris, Seattle, and London, and our demographic was predominantly people in their late teens, twenties, and early thirties, not our usual concert audience - and they were not hearing the music on a Spotify radio station, they were listening and sharing with friends. This was happening all over the world. And then in August, Come, Gentle Night, the title track of a CD that was released in 2000 on Telarc, caught fire. All of a sudden, our top five cities were all in Turkey. The tune was streamed hundreds of thousands of times, again, shared from one person to another. People were listening. Radiation started for me in September. For my first session, which would be the longest, the tech asked what I would like to hear and I said, "Me. Us. Ensemble Galilei." He found Ensemble Galilei on Spotify and as I lay on the cold metal table, in the chilly, dimly lit room, I heard Following the Moon, the title track of a CD released in 1995. It was the second tune I had ever written, and it had been decades since the penny-whistle, harp, viola da gamba and fiddle soaring through space had crossed my consciousness. As I am listening, the machine delivering the radiation starts to rotate across the table, doing it's own, graceful, beautiful dance to the music. Then the next tune, and the next tune and what I realized, in that extreme and novel moment, was that there was a kind of hope and humanity in our music. You could hear it. You could feel it. I understood that people around the world were listening because these tunes offered them a place to be. Of course it did. We had been making music for thirty-five years because it's what we do, not because we ever had a big breakthrough, or there were sold-out performances at Carnegie Hall. Did it make a difference that now there were over twenty-one millions streams? Yes, actually it did. We weren't quite finished recording. We needed Jackie to sing As I Roved Out in a way that only he could do, and we needed a great first track for the first CD. Isaac was writing a new tune that would go with an old tune, and he and Jesse finished working on it on Friday, December 13th and aptly named it, The Last Minute. It changed a little after the concert on Saturday, we did it again in concert on Sunday so, sure, it was ready Monday morning. December 16th was the one day when Dan could fly north, and Jackie, Jesse, Isaac and I would all be in the area, so after our Sunday afternoon concert on December 15th the four of us drove to the studio, met Charlie, set up the microphones, chairs, headphones and whatever else we needed so that we could start recording right at 10:00am, but the next morning there was fog in DC so Dan's flight was delayed. Of course it was. In spite of the challenges we had an extraordinary day, clocked out at 6:00 and everyone made it to their airports on time. After Dan edited the tracks from Chicago and Takoma Park, after Erica edited the tracks from Sono Luminus, I got to work sequencing. Now that all of this music would be one project, we needed a single person to make the choices, to guide the process, to envision and manifest this opus. It was Dan. It had to be. He had been our north star for fifteen years and the hard decisions would have to be his. Some tracks would not make it into this recording and his expertise, compassion, and patience were essential. We also needed to get a proof of concept CD to Collin. None of us really knew for sure whether we could make these two very different sonic fields into one compelling project. When I downloaded all the tracks and started putting them into an order that made emotional sense, I started to hear the stories. But there were problems. There were moments in sequencing the two discs when there seemed to be no way to get from the early music to the Irish music, or back again, and then Kathryn and her recorder solos provided exactly what we needed. In an unexpected turn, the recorder which is so clearly identifiable as an early music instrument became timeless. In her hands, this instrument which is essentially a wooden tube with holes in it, became an expressive and infinitely transmutable pathway for traversing the cultures and centuries. It was miraculous. It would have been technically possible to have the early music recording and the traditional music recordings come close to matching in sound and space, but honestly, I came to love the differences. Robert, a master location engineer, had achieved a sound that included the room, with it's high ceiling and hardwood floor, and also brought the resonance of each of us close to the listener. Charlie, who had produced the very first Ensemble Galilei recordings, knew exactly how to place the microphones so that on that amazing guitar solo, Bruach Na Carraige Baine, the pure sound and the overtones would sparkle, and fill the ear. As I listened down through all thirty-four tracks and forty-seven tunes over two CDs, sometimes I felt like I was turning a corner, from one song to another, moving from an Irish hillside to a medieval castle, from one world to another - each of them compelling, expressive, and sonically exquisite. In the end, if the musicians have brought their hearts, souls, and years of mastery, if the recording team has entered into the space with wisdom, tools, patience and good will, if the executive producer is saying, "Sure, let's book one more session to make this the very best it can possibly be" then the opportunity exists for the listener to hear it all - the breath, the intention, the ensemble, the soloist, the fingers on the strings, the air as it comes out of the recorder, the hands on the regulators of the uilleann pipes, the tipper as it touches the head of the bodhran, the rosin on the fiddle's bow, and feathered end of the note on a viola da gamba. It is all there. What you do not hear on this recording is the harp being played by EG Emeritus member, Sue Richards. Never in the thirty-five years of Ensemble Galilei has there been a recording without Sue. Who are we without that grace, without her sense of beauty and joy? The answer must be that we are still making music, still telling stories, still finding our way into new territory, trusting our hearts and our sensibilities. Playing music together is a place where we meet, a place that we love, indeed, it is there I long to be. - Carolyn Surrick, March 10, 2025 Ensemble Galilei Isaac Alderson - uilleann pipes, Irish flute, whistles, tenor saxophone Jesse Langen - guitar Kathryn Montoya - recorders, whistle, shawm Jackie Moran - banjo, bodhran, egg shaker Carolyn Surrick - viola da gamba With Hanneke Cassel* - fiddle Gjendine's Bådlåt and Gjendine's Waltz, Boys of Barr na Sraide Tim Langen - fiddle Jig Set, When that I was a Tiny Boy Ronn McFarlane - lute James Oxley - tenor *Ensemble Galilei emeritus Barn Dance no.1 and Leaving St. Kilda were recorded at WBEZ in Chicago on September 13, 2022. Recording Engineer - Brian Doser Producer and Editing Engineer - Dan Merceruio Mixing Engineer - Charlie Pilzer Producer and Music Director - Carolyn Surrick Come Away Death, Io son un Pellegrino, Serbian Wedding Dance, Bruach Na Carraige Baine, Cape Clear, When that I was a Little Tiny Boy, Waltz no.1, Sliabh Geal gCua, Aggie Whyte's, The Old Blackthorn Stick, Old Simon the King, The Boys of Barr na Sraide and The Fair Maid of Barra, The Sporting Pitchfork and Scattery Island were recorded at Tonal Park in Takoma Park, Maryland from January 5-7, 2024. Recording and Mixing Engineer - Charlie Pilzer Producer and Editing Engineer - Dan Merceruio Producer and Music Director - Carolyn Surrick Hanneke Cassel recorded Gjendine's Bådlåt and Gjendine's Waltz, and added her incredible musical sense to The Boys of Barr na Sraide on May 6, 2024 at Tonal Park. Recording and Mixing Engineer - Charlie Pilzer Producer and Editing Engineer - Dan Merceruio Producer and Music Director - Carolyn Surrick Lament for Owen Roe O'Neill/Allen Water/ Licke-potjen, Fantasias no. 2 and 3, Life, Tweede Stuck, Galliard, Loftus Jones, Suzanna Galliard, Vierde Carileen, Oncques amour, Jesus in Thy Dying Woes, Zesde Petit Brande/Frere Frapar/La Perichone, and Love is the Cause of My Mourning/Miss Noble were recorded at Sono Luminus in Boyce, Virginia from June 6-9, 2024. Recording and Mixing Engineer - Robert Friedrich Producer and Editing Engineer - Erica Brenner Au joli bois, Beware Fair Maids, Flow My Teares, Go Crystall Teares, His Golden Lockes, and Venus Birds were recorded at Sono Luminus in Boyce, Virginia from August 4-6, 2024. Recording and Mixing Engineer - Robert Friedrich Producer and Editing Engineer - Erica Brenner Hewlett and As I Roved Out were recorded on December 16, 2024 at Tonal Park. Recording and Mixing Engineer - Charlie Pilzer Producer and Editing Engineer - Dan Merceruio Producer and Music Director - Carolyn Surrick Lindsey R. Nelson, Executive Producer. Recorded, Mixed and Mastered by Robert Friedrich, Five/Four Productions, LLC.® Produced by Dan Merceruio. Collin J. Rae, Executive Producer Joshua Frey, Layout Carolyn Surrick, Liner Notes Photography: Bernard McWilliams Cover Art: Amy Fenton-Shine

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There I Long to Be
Sono Luminus Sep 2025
CD
$16.99

Mix & Match

Mahler: Symphony No. 9 / Rattle, Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra

BR Klassik

$19.99 Oct 07, 2022

Named Gramophone Magazine Editor's Choice for December 2022!

For the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, the performances on November 26 and 27, 2021 in the Isarphilharmonie marked the beginning of a new chapter in its Mahler interpretation: with its designated new principal conductor Simon Rattle, the orchestra is now headed by a Mahler admirer every bit as ardent as his predecessors Mariss Jansons, Lorin Maazel, and Rafael Kubelík. The musicians dedicated the benefit concert on November 26 to the memory of conductor Bernard Haitink, who died in October 2021 and was associated with the renowned orchestra for 61 years. The very long silence after the final chord was one of those “goosebumps moments” that one goes to concerts for – and for which music is made in the first place.

Gustav Mahler’s Ninth Symphony, in particular, is understood as the composer’s reaction to a heart ailment that was diagnosed shortly before he wrote the first drafts in the summer of 1908. He was in deep despair, but still scarcely aware of how few years he actually had left to live. With Mahler, it was always in and through music that he tried to come to terms with his life experiences and such topics as farewell, the meaning of existence, death, redemption, life after death and love. He wrote his Ninth Symphony in Dobbiaco, in a kind of creative frenzy, between 1909 and 1910. Its premiere took place in Vienna on June 26, 1912, when the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra performed the work under Bruno Walter. Mahler did not witness the premiere of his last completed work – he had already died on May 18, 1911.

REVIEW:

I would rank Rattle's performance here with the best of the competition and would add that even the classic recordings of Bernstein, Giulini, and Karajan have no significant advantage over Rattle's. In the end Rattle would be my top choice among newer versions and probably the equal of the classic performances on disc.

-- MusicWeb International (Robert Cummings)

If he has always shown very sensitive affinities with Symphony No. 9, Simon Rattle delivers his most accomplished recording to the Bavarian Radio. Recorded live between November 24 and 27, 2021, at the Isarphilharmonie im Gasteig in Munich by Winfried Messmer, [this] powerful orchestral mass presents both great volume and precise definition of timbre and range.

-- Diapason (citation for a Diapason d'or)

The Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and its designated principal conductor dedicated one of the two concerts used for this recording to the conductor Bernard Haitink, who died in October 2021. It is a great tribute to this outstanding Mahler conductor, and Rattle once again proves what a major Mahler interpreter he is as well.

Right in the first movement, he succeeds in drawing the whole Mahler world in its gripping originality with magnificent breath. Rising and collapse are always close together, and the exciting alternation between tension and release is maintained throughout the symphony. At the same time, this reading is not lacking in sensuality. There is both lyrical beauty, full of abyss, and the light-hearted (and artfully illuminated) play of sound and movement. The three-movement back-and-forth of emotions leads to the Adagio finale, which Rattle conducts thoughtfully and in moderate tempo. The music dies away in a deeply moving 24 minutes with nostalgia, sadness and also some thoughts of hope.

The orchestra is brilliantly disposed and fascinates with both differentiated coloration and the greatest possible transparency. Under Rattle’s direction, Mahler, the orchestral musicians, and he himself merge into a single instrument.

-- Pizzicato

Superbly played and recorded, from November last year (Isarphilharmonie im Gasteig), a memorial concert for Bernard Haitink, Sir Simon’s third recording (following Birmingham and Vienna, both EMI/Warner) of Mahler Nine sports a first movement, if not without a few cosmetic touches, that is a flowing and feisty affair, defiant, better to be alive than not, with impassioned fortissimos, and only in the concluding few minutes does the music issue calmness as well as bittersweet sentiments, although it seems too sudden as well as much too soon – bearing in mind how the Symphony will end, spare and fading to nothingness. The second movement, with its competing waltz and ländler, has its tempo contrasts well-managed, but is perhaps a little too manicured – it needs to be rougher, more rustic and pesante. Poker-faced sophistication suits the ensuing ‘Rondo-Burleske’, its counterpoint wonderfully clear (antiphonal violins swirl either side of the podium) albeit greater bite is sometimes required, and it’s a surprise that Rattle doesn’t linger more in the central section (his is a tempo-related ‘trio’), and the conclusion is thrillingly fast and rendered with A+ virtuosity – the abyss awaits. The final Adagio follows more or less attacca (I can vouch for such a joining from an LSO concert years ago) and is a dignified if intense leave-taking, powerful (vibrant strings, eloquent woodwinds) and ethereal, with a cathartic climax and a hypnotically controlled paring down of resources as expression becomes more and more off the radar.

-- Colin's Column

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Mahler: Symphony No. 9 / Rattle, Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra
BR Klassik Oct 2022
CD
$19.99

Berg: Wozzeck / Weigle, Hawlata, Denoke, Tierney

Opus Arte

DVD

$34.99 Nov 20, 2007

Many operas, tragic in nature, leave an audience deeply affected. But Wozzeck holds a special place: its "man's inhumanity to man" and "society and the system will destroy you" messages go straight to the heart and leave us feeling dejected. The recently-released 1970 film of the opera from Hamburg by Rolf Liebermann perfectly captured the work's bleakness and nihilism, and I suspect that for sheer atmosphere and honesty to the text it never will be bettered. But for an almost unbearable, ghastly view of life, madness, and uncaring, this present production, from the stage of Barcelona's Teatre del Liceu--directed by bad-boy Calixto Bieito--will hereafter be the one to beat.

This isn't one of Bieito's juvenile-delinquent ravings like his Ballo with the conspirators on toilets; rather, he just takes a life-deadening score and plot and degrades the characters even further by placing them in a sunless underground world of the future. The life-is-pointless theme remains, but now life is made up not only of heartlessness, but filth and human innards, no natural light, and necrophilia. It's amazing that the audience doesn't go crazy the way Wozzeck does; indeed, near the opera's close, naked cast members, covered in God-knows-what sort of excremental grime, walk into the audience, zombie-like.

We are, I believe, in an oil refinery or petro-chemical plant (Wozzeck is no longer a soldier, just a lowly employee with the captain as Foreman), with acres of twisting pipes looking for all the world like the intestines the doctor rips out of the dead bodies he then cuddles up to. Wozzeck and Marie live in a fluorescently illuminated box with a patch of green shrubbery that Wozzeck tends until it, too, gets destroyed and leaves the scene lifeless. The Drum Major is a local entertainer dressed as either an Elvis- or Elton John-impersonator that Marie sees as an alternative to the dreary slime around her; her child, invariably in a fetal position (though he's big enough to be 10 years old) or on his omnipresent hobby horse, has open sores, is bald, and must breathe through an oxygen mask. (Others in the cast are similarly afflicted.)

Pianos, Marie and Wozzeck's living quarters, other spaces, descend into the playing area in front of the piping; an area of the stage will be illuminated to represent, say, the tavern, while the remainder goes dark. The scenes in the tavern are wild, the Idiot deformed and screaming, with television director Pietro D'Agostino's close-ups horrendous. The turning point comes in the third scene of the second act (although the opera is performed uninterrupted, in one act) when the Doctor, Captain, and Wozzeck meet on the street. The Captain dances insanely as the Doctor does sexual push-ups on the dead body of a woman he has carried onto the scene. Wozzeck, thoroughly confused and trying to get away from them, goes mad. He seems suddenly to realize that the only way to conform is to be as lunatic as they are; his murder of Marie, as they sit on a pipe in a world without a moon, is a thing to do and seems undriven by passion. He shoves her into a pipe drain from which dirty water has been spewing and climbs in there himself in the opera's penultimate scene.

We must be grateful that Sebastian Weigle, the Liceu's music director, leads a reading of the score that is an antidote to the filth in front of him. Weigle takes every opportunity to express Berg's lyricism rather than his harshness. (I was reminded of Richard Strauss' admonition to the orchestra at the premiere of Elektra to play softly because the music on the page was already so loud.) One of the production's real mistakes is Bieito's decision to keep the stage lit and the action going during Berg's all-important orchestral interludes. Berg's transitions are descriptive enough and need no distractions; thanks to Weigle and his orchestra they almost have their full effect. The overwhelming interlude before the opera's last scene is beautifully played; Bieito's intrusions upon it scarcely matter. And there are moments of such tenderness between Marie and her child that humanity does creep through. In addition, Weigle's cast never overplays the Sprechgesang; there is always "gesang" present with Wozzeck and Marie, so we can continue to feel what softness has been left them. The orchestra's control of dynamics, from Berg's pppppp to fffff, can take your breath away.

The cast is remarkable. Franz Hawlata, all-too-human as Wozzeck, has a fine baritone, his pitched speaking as impressive as his more melodic work. He roams the last third of the opera filthy and shirtless, looking like someone on a terrible precipice, which is just what he is. He never breaks character. Angela Denoke, in red overalls like the other workers, has the full compass of the role of Marie both vocally and dramatically--so much a victim, so uncomprehending of what is going on around her, wanting just a bit more out of life. Hubert Delamboye's Captain is terrifying, his falsetto like a train whistle. Johann Tilli's Doctor is not someone you'd want to meet on a dark street; his cannibalism seems the least of his issues. David Kuebler as Andres sings stentorianly and with misguided passion; Reiner Goldberg's Drum Major is glitter and no-substance, sort of an even-dumber and more treacherous Siegfried. And once Steven Cole's Fool opens his mouth and starts wailing, there's no turning back.

My first choice of video Wozzecks remains the 1971 film; this version is startling in its unpleasantness, and as such becomes a work of art, albeit a work hard to come to terms with. Perhaps it's a misreading--maybe Bieito is telling us that our environment can make us insane, and that isn't quite Berg's point. But it is ferocious in its persuasiveness, the opera is superbly served musically, and you won't forget it.

--Robert Levine
FORMAT: All Formats
REGIONS: All Regions
PICTURE FORMAT: 16:9
LENGTH: 129 Mins
SOUND: DTS 5.0 SURROUND/ LPCM STEREO
SUBTITLES: EN/FR/DE/ES/IT/CA
NO OF DISCS: 1

Wozzeck: Franz Hawlata
Marie: Angela Denoke
Drum Major: Reiner Goldberg
Margret: Vivian Tierney
Doctor: Johann Tilli
Captain: Hubert Delamboye
Andres: David Kuebler

Symphony Orchestra and Chorus of the Gran Teatre del Liceu
Vivaldi Chorus – IPSI – Petits Cantors de Catalunya
Musical Director: Sebastian Weigle
Stage Director: Calixto Bieito

Plus
Documentary, including interviews with Sebastian Weigle & Calixto Bieito

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Berg: Wozzeck / Weigle, Hawlata, Denoke, Tierney
Opus Arte Nov 2007
DVD
$34.99

Dvořák: Piano Trios Nos. 3 & 4 / Tetzlaff, Vogt, Tetzlaff

Ondine

$18.99 Oct 05, 2018

This fruitful collaboration by three eminent chamber musicians, Christian Tetzlaff, Tanja Tetzlaff and Lars Vogt, brings together two Piano Trios by the Czech master, Antonín Dvořák (1841–1904). During the last eight years, artists forming this unique trio have recorded eight albums of chamber music for Ondine with great acclaim, including some of the Romantic standard works. These two chamber music masterpieces by Antonín Dvořák express great emotional depth and dark passion.

The two piano trios by Dvořák featured in this album have remarkable similarities as well as differences. Piano Trio No. 3, nearly symphonic in its character, hints to the world of Johannes Brahms, while the Piano Trio No. 4 includes folkloric elements. The third piano trio might not only be considered as an homage to Brahms; it was written by the composer in 1883 shortly after the death of his mother which might well explain the sorrowful musical expression in the slow movement of the work. The ‘Dumky’ trio has a very unusual structure in its six movements. This intense and intimate work was written just prior to the composer’s departure to New York in 1891 and serves as a great climax for Dvořák’s series of piano trios.

REVIEW:

The Dumky really takes the plaudits here. Without question, it is the best I’ve heard, and the third movement is simply astonishing in its melancholic beauty.

These are two giants of the piano trio repertoire that is dear to my heart, and while this new recording enters a very crowded field, the presence of the three performers who are considerable soloists in their own right, means that the release demands attention.

Let’s get one thing out in the open straight away: these are the most dramatic and intense performances of these works I’ve heard. If your preference is for elegance such as those of the Beaux Arts and Florestan Trios, you may not be too keen on these big-boned and raw performances. Pianist Lars Vogt really hammers the keyboard at times, but don’t let that give you the impression that there is a lack of subtlety: the slow movements are meltingly beautiful. The booklet notes, which are in the form of a conversation between the three performers, emphasise the Bohemian folk music that inspired so much of Dvořák’s pre-American music. The raw intensity of the performances can be seen as a way of expressing these folk roots.

This is the only version of the Brahmsian F minor trio that I have in my collection to go beyond 40 minutes. I have no doubts that there are others, but it is to the credit of the performers that at no time is there a sense of dragging. Everything feels just about right. However, it is the Dumky that really takes the plaudits here. Without question, it is the best I’ve heard, and the third movement is simply astonishing in its melancholic beauty. If you love these works, and if you are reading this, you almost certainly do, you owe it to yourself to hear the Tetzlaffs and Vogt.

If I have a reservation about this otherwise marvellous recording, it is that the tone of the violin on occasions, generally at moments of fortissimo and above, becomes quite shrill. This is a something of a personal peeve, and I suspect most listeners will not be bothered by the sound. Perhaps the miking is a little close, though there is no extraneous noise.

Perhaps the intensity of the performances means that this is not a recording for every day, just Sunday best, but it is certainly special.

-- MusicWeb International (David Barker)

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Dvořák: Piano Trios Nos. 3 & 4 / Tetzlaff, Vogt, Tetzlaff
Ondine Oct 2018
CD
$18.99

Britten: Beggar's Opera / Curnyn, Bickley, White, Jones, Randle

Chandos

$43.99 Oct 27, 2009

This Chandos production must now be first choice for this work.

Welcome to John Gay’s and Benjamin Britten’s romp through some seamy but also colourful and vibrant elements of 18 ^th century London. This work established the ballad opera in which spoken dialogue alternated with musical items. Gay’s satirical words were set to well-known traditional and popular tunes. Two hundred and twenty years later Britten added 20 ^th century accompaniments.

What’s entirely Britten here is the fresh caterwauling Overture (tr. 2) in which the various characters are given brief sound-portraits. There’s an oboe of sinuous sweetness for Polly (0:40), a cavorting clarinet for Macheath (1:29), suave strings and a jocular bassoon for the highwaymen (2:35) and a bantering circus-like master of ceremonies style for Mr Peachum (3:25). It’s all terrifically realized by the City of London Sinfonia who play marvellously throughout.

But what of the songs? Filch’s ‘’Tis woman that seduces all Mankind’ (tr. 5) is a good example of Britten allowing an original tune free rein while giving it modern dress with balmy woodwind and harp. The heroine Polly comes in (tr.12) to strains of her first song over which there are snatches of dialogue. This, like the melodrama which shortly follows (tr. 20), is Britten’s neat way of subverting the claim in the opening dialogue that this opera will have no “unnatural” recitative. Polly’s first song, ‘Virgins are like the fair flower in its lustre’ has as its tune Purcell’s ‘What shall I do to show how much I love him?’ from Dioclesian. Like its original, it is shown by Leah-Marian Jones to be at once wistful and coy. Her duet with Susan Bickley’s Mrs Peachum, ’O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed’ (tr. 15) catches well a cosy lullaby make-believe, aided by the gently rocking strings’ accompaniment. It’s lovely but only fleeting. Another notable accompaniment is the flutter-tonguing flute illustrating Polly’s ‘The Turtle thus with plaintive crying’ (tr. 19).

The highwayman hero Macheath enters and Tom Randle proves courteous enough to Jones’ simpering. The duet between Macheath and Polly, ’Were I laid on Greenland’s coast’ (tr. 22) is sweetly done but I felt the singers were over-conscious of the need to match the flowing orchestration and then the addition of chorus and drum. Some of the natural freshness is lost that’s present in the 1963 Aldeburgh Festival staging on DVD (Decca 074 3329). In this Chandos CD ‘The Miser thus a shilling sees’ (tr. 24) responds better to the typical careful attention of conductor Christian Curnyn’s approach. The disciplined emphasis of rhythm in its thorny progression matches the text’s poetic expression of loss. A pity, however, the second appearance of “Till home and friends are lost at last” (1:54) isn’t, as marked in the score ‘(in the distance)’ as the lovers go their separate ways. It’s an effect achieved in the BBC broadcast recording of the original 1948 production conducted by Britten (Pearl GEM 0225).

The highwaymen’s ’Fill ev’ry glass’ (tr. 26) is a drinking song of the sturdy, resolute variety in 2009 where a lustier abandon was shown in 1948. ‘Let us take the road’ (tr. 28) is infused with eagerness because of the excitement Britten and Curnyn convey in sketching the approach of the coach. Tom Randle’s Macheath has a too cultivated spoken voice but his singing is virile enough. You can hear this in ‘If the heart of a man is depressed with cares’ (tr. 29), marked as a caressing Andante backed by sweetly musing violin solo and rocking clarinet. Again I felt the line was held back a little in deference to the detail of the accompaniment. At this point Macheath is visited by a parade of prostitutes and what’s entertaining in the Decca DVD is rather curious here. With no sounds incorporated of women moving around, squealing and the like , you might think Macheath is imagining it all. I guess this is so as not to detract from Britten’s own variety parade of instruments, a kind of ‘Young Person’s Guide to Women’. There’s a superb tambourine to enliven the headiness of ‘Youth’s the season made for joys’. Randle sings with sunny freedom the ad libitum ‘Ah’s above the chorus repeat, though the top C final phrase is left to a soprano. Now betrayed by the women, his ‘At the Tree I shall suffer with pleasure’ has a disciplined testiness but less venom than Decca’s Kenneth McKellar.

Again more telling in this Chandos production is the more meditative material. The opening song of Act 2, ‘Man may escape from rope and gun’ (CD2, tr. 2), where Randle shows how transfixed Macheath is in his repetition of ‘woman’, savours past joys even while aware they’re the cause of present pain. Sarah Fox, as Lucy Lockit, is scarily efficient in her spite in ‘Thus when a good Housewife sees a rat’ (tr. 3). Polly’s response is the more sensitively elegiac ‘Thus when the Swallow seeking prey’ (tr. 10) and here Leah-Marian Jones is rich, smooth and eloquent. For me, however, Macheath’s ‘How happy could I be with either’ (tr. 11) is taken so fast it becomes too much a tongue-twister virtuoso piece losing some of its whimsy. In 1948 Peter Pears’ lighter touch was more effective. Polly has the easier task of rising above all this with ‘Cease your funning’ (tr.12), whose merging into the chorus and distancing of perspective are successfully achieved before we’re brought back to earth with a vengeance by Lucy’s crisp, snappy ‘Why how now, Madam Flirt!’ (tr. 13). The finale begins with Lucy and Polly showing great resolve. ‘No power on earth can e’er divide’ (tr. 14) is well progressed by Curnyn to an exciting ‘Horay’ trio response from Macheath, Lockit and Peachum. The there’s then increasing speed with a backing chorus in Sullivanesque abandon.

The opening song of Act 3, Lucy’s ‘When young at the bar’ (tr. 16) should be familiar as the tune is Purcell’s ‘If love’s a sweet passion’ from The Fairy Queen. Fox invests it with its original sad yearning while Curnyn points the claustrophobic cloying nature of Britten’s rich scoring of the wry accompaniment. Of a different order and part of the score’s kaleidoscopic variety is the relished archness of Frances McCafferty as Mrs Trapes delivering ‘In the days of my youth I could bill like a dove’ (tr. 21) with relished archness. To this is added the raucous carousing of Lockit and Peachum. Shortly there’s also the poignancy of Lucy and Polly’s ‘A curse attends a woman’s love’ (tr. 25). The paradox that these two candidates for Macheath’s affection can at one moment be united in their shared sense of rejection and understanding of the impossibility of their situation and at the next daggers drawn as rivals and eager still to court Macheath with warm affection at ‘Hither, dear husband, turn your eyes’ (tr. 28) is exploited dramatically. Fox’s pleading for Macheath’s life with ‘When he holds up his hand’ (tr. 31) ought to be the more persuasive, aided by Britten’s obbligato oboe accompaniment. ‘The Charge is prepared’ is a stock, formal chorus considerably pepped up by Mrs Peachum’s triumphant ‘Ah’s and glissando shrieks over its orchestral postlude.

Britten creates a closing scena (tr. 34) with Macheath in the condemned cell at first extolling the virtues of drink when about to die, then recalling pretty women. This gives way to the questioning protest ‘must I die?’. This is well sung by Randle but doesn’t quite have Pears’ grasp of the torment of ever-fluctuating contrasts of mood. Polly and Lucy offer a moving show of support, ‘Would I might be hanged’ to the heavily insistent backdrop of the funeral knell. In 1948 Britten’s knell is less weighty but more searing. Macheath realistically confesses ‘my courage is out’. The spoken dialogue wipes this all away. The highwaymen begin an address directly to the audience to demand the playwright provides a reprieve and all the players join in so the work can end with a dance. This bit of trickery and the rejection of the moral that vice must be punished works better in sound alone than the quicker and tamer removal of justice in the DVD. So you finish the Chandos sound recording remembering the company’s lusty tra-las and Fox’s top C.

This Chandos is the fullest version of the three currently available in the UK, playing at 117:52 in comparison with Decca’s 93:50 and Pearl’s 79:03. The differences are largely down to the Chandos including more of Gay’s spoken dialogue with alterations and additions by Tyrone Guthrie though even here I’d guess about a quarter of the dialogue published in the full and vocal scores has been cut. I don’t think this is a disadvantage because there’s a good deal of repetition in the text anyway. However, some musical numbers are also cut in the other recordings: Mrs Peachum’s ‘If Love the Virgin’s Heart invade’ (CD1 tr. 9) can only be heard here. To see the piece staged is a benefit. On the DVD the dialogue generally has a touch more pace and life, being less self-conscious in delivery. In the same vein the switch from dialogue to music flows more seamlessly and the folksong origins of many of the tunes are delivered with a more disarmingly innocent directness. The feeling between the characters is clearer in the ensemble numbers. The 1948 recording is striking for the verve of Britten’s direction, the charm of Pears’ light heroic manner and the lovely unforced upper register of Nancy Evans as Polly. Listen to her in ‘The Miser thus a shilling sees’. On the other hand it also at times adopts an over-romantic style, as in ‘O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed’ or is too patrician as in ‘Virgins are like the fair flower’.

To conclude, then, although sometimes more studied and deliberate than it might be, including careful points of emphasis within the dialogue, this Chandos production must now be first choice for this work. It also offers you in most luxuriant detail the colour and density of Britten’s orchestration.

-- Michael Greenhalgh, MusicWeb International

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Britten: Beggar's Opera / Curnyn, Bickley, White, Jones, Randle
Chandos Oct 2009
CD
$43.99

Goddess of the Cello / Walevska

Leaf Music

$18.99 Apr 21, 2017

Savour the creative talent heard through these hand-picked selections of Christine Walevska, cellist extroadinaire, who continues to touch her audiences worldwide with her timeless, polished, eloquent, sensuous, engaging and dramatic musicality. Christine is known for her numerous recordings with Philips Records, and for her countless concertos worldwide. In 1975, she became the first American concert musician to perform in Cuba under the regime of Fidel Castro. Music Critic Antonio Hernandez wrote in the Brazilian newspaper O Globo that Christine was the “goddess of the cello,” a name which she is still called today. “She is still the only cellist who takes my breath away…” (Arthur Rubenstein) “She parallels on the cello the single persuasiveness of Fritz Kreisler on the violin…” (Patterson Greene, Los Angeles Music Critic)

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Goddess of the Cello / Walevska
Leaf Music Apr 2017
CD
$18.99

Mozart: Don Giovanni / Luisotti, Gens, Watts, Esposito, Kwiecien

Opus Arte

DVD

$39.99 Sep 30, 2014

Also available on Blu-ray

Don Giovanni, Mozart’s sublime tragic comedy, offers boundless scope for directors. Kasper Holten shifts the emphasis from Don Giovanni’s sex life into a darker place, showing Giovanni’s womanizing as an attempt to stave off his own mortality. Each woman he seduces represents a life he could have had. Though it is a dark piece, Holten handles it all with a light touch. Led by conductor Nicola Luisotti, the superb cast features Mariusz Kwiecien as Don Giovanni, Alex Esposito and French soprano Véronique Gens. ‘‘…a cast that can’t be bettered today…demands to be seen.’’ Seen and Heard Int’l

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
DON GIOVANNI

Don Giovanni - Mariusz Kwiecien
Leporello - Alex Esposito
Donna Anna - Malin Byström
Commendatore - Alexander Tsymbalyuk
Don Ottavio - Antonio Poli
Donna Elvira - Véronique Gens
Zerlina - Elizabeth Watts
Masetto - Dawid Kimberg
Donna Elvira’s Maid - Josephine Arden

Royal Opera Chorus
(chorus master: Renato Balsadonna)
Royal Opera House Orchestra
Nicola Luisotti, conductor

Kasper Holten, stage director
Es Devlin, set designer
Anja Vang Kragh, costume designer
Bruno Poet, lighting designer
Signe Fabricius, choreographer

Recorded live at the Royal Opera House, February 2014

Bonus:
- Introductions: Don Giovanni’s Women
- Director’s Commentary

Picture format: NTSC 16:9 anamorphic
Sound format: LPCM 2. 0 / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: English, French, German, Japanese, Korean
Running time: 187 mins
No. of DVDs: 1

R E V I E W:

There used to be an old line about leaving the theater humming the scenery; often it applied to Franco Zeffirelli-like productions–lavish, flowery, big-boned, visually melodious eye-candy. Well, the same might be said for this recent Covent Garden show designed by Es Devlin and directed by Kasper Holton with video designs by Luke Halls, except that one would have to be able to hum scenery that was atonal and intensely complex, albeit spectacularly interesting.

Riveting to behold and almost constantly changing either subtly or dramatically, it is a two-storey structure that takes up the whole stage and is made up of rooms with doors that appear and disappear, as well as interior and exterior staircases that, Escher-like, seem to end in mid-journey, or in fact never end at all. And it revolves. Onto its vast surfaces video designer Lukas Hall offers projections of everything from the names of Giovanni’s lovers (written in script) to subtle or dramatic changes in color, to a labyrinthine confusion of rooms in which each character seems lost and wandering, to sheer meaningless graffiti and scribbling. Rather than distracting from the drama, it allows it to be fluid: corners can be created instantly, allowing, for instance, Leporello and Giovanni to hide from Elvira and her maid in Act 2. (A brilliant effect has Leporello disappear into the scenery by imposing projections on top of him.) In short, it’s inspired and fascinating, and aside from a few moments that dazzle so thoroughly that they take our mind off the music, I suspect you’ll be riveted.

Anja Vang Kragh’s costumes imply a late-Victorian era; the dress and winged cape for Elvira make her look vaguely like an angel of death. Masetto looks like a prim clerk in a lawyer’s office and Zerlina always wears her wedding dress; Ottavio is a stuffed shirt (which he finally unbuttons at one point). The Don wears a blue fur-collared coat; Leporello is dressed as the perfect sad sack. The dead Commendatore, in white black-smeared sheet and face, is quite scary.

And so, musically and dramatically, there is only one performance that lives up to the scenery, and the direction, which gets clearer as the evening goes on, seems wayward for the first three quarters of the opera. The punchline is that Giovanni’s punishment is madness and loneliness–a type of hell. Throughout, it is difficult to figure out each character’s motivation, or even personality. Anna seems less than bothered by her “rape” by Giovanni in the first scene: there he is, doing up his cuffs, while she is embracing him; later, during Ottavio’s “Dalla sua pace”, she spots the Don up on the set’s second level and goes to him and follows him into a room. Of course, who can blame her for walking out on Ottavio: when she sings “Don Ottavio, son morta!” and goes on to explain that “that man” is the man who attacked her and killed her father, Ottavio giggles! He’s simply a dope.

Donna Elvira seems merely lost, although my instinct about her being an angel of death may not be too far off: she kisses Giovanni tenderly at one point when most Elvira’s are loony. Perhaps she and she alone senses his isolation? Zerlina, by Act 2, is repentant for her bad, flirty behavior in Act 1 (she starts tearing off her clothes in the finale), and she and Masetto–a nerd if ever there were one–stroll off happily. Leporello adores the Don while trying to stop him from being crazy; he weeps uncontrollably in the final scene when it becomes clear that Giovanni is going mad. And the Don, who invariably is somewhere on stage during all of the action, is always seeking and increasingly alone.

Real problems: Kasper Holten eliminates the flames, or any sense of hell; instead of a handshake (from the Commendatore, who is two storeys above the Don), the Don grips his heart and stumbles into a corner. Worse: Holten cuts the first part of the final scene, the sextet in which the others explain what their lives will be like now that the Don is gone. All we get is the opera’s two-minute moral, sung offstage: ”Questo e il fin di chi fa mal.” I know that Mozart himself (may have) cut part or all of the opera’s last moments for Vienna, but with your main character in hell, it almost makes sense. The six characters have a right to express themselves, unless, of course, the director’s entire concept has implied their lack of importance, with the Don the utter center of his own universe and the others just throw-aways who no longer exist. It’s problematic–not foolish or outlandish, but problematic–and goes along with the lack of characterization of these people throughout.

Holten succeeds with his idea, but is it a good idea? You will either buy it or not; I suspect that you’ll wonder where it’s all going until the end, and even then, when you understand (“Ah – he’s alone!”), the musical cut will irritate you. All that being said, anyone who misses Marius Kweicien’s performance here will regret it. In 40 years of opera-going, and having seen 15 different Dons, never have I seen a final scene so aggressively personal, so mad, so viciously without repentance, so insane. It will leave you exhausted (and wishing for the usual sextet!). He’s terrific throughout the opera even if we don’t quite understand his raison d’etre, singing with accuracy, charm, bite when necessary, dead-center pitch, and a smooth, seductive legato. He also moves like a born actor. Malin Byström’s Anna acts demurely but sings with passion–occasionally harridan-like and in strange-sounding Italian–but invariably involved, although apparently not interested in vengeance. Véronique Gens is a glamorous Elvira even if her character is undersized here; she dispatches her second-act aria with aplomb. Elizabeth Watts’ Zerlina is charming and pure-toned.

Alex Esposito offers a star turn as Leporello. Looking downtrodden, somewhat like a silent-movie bum, he is fascinated and infuriated by his boss. He’s funny (he seems to have some of Rolando Villazon’s comic charm, although they look nothing alike) and not a fool, and his singing is rich and nuanced. Antonio Poli is vocally better than good as Ottavio and the same can be said of Dawid Kimberg’s Masetto, but their blandness may have something to do with Holten’s outlook. (Maybe all men are either duds, servants, or dead, except for Don Giovanni?) Alexander Tsymbalyuk makes little impression as the Commendatore until the final scene, where he may be amplified. Nicola Luisotti’s leadership varies–the overture is splendid, but much of Act 1 just passes by without highlights; he certainly pulls out the stops later, however. The Covent Garden forces are downright magnificent.

At the conclusion, what can one say about a Don Giovanni that is neither sexy nor dangerous, but interestingly philosophical? If the answer is that the Hell is, in fact, not other people, but loneliness, then we have a hypothesis, not a great opera. But as I said, Kweicien will knock you out by the end.

A truly great DVD version of this opera? Well, except for the weird constant changes of hairstyles and outfits (yes, we get it–the story is universal), the Riccardo Muti-led performance on TDK is magnificent, while Terfel, Furlanetto, and Fleming lead a terrific cast from the Met on DG on Zeffirelli’s rather ordinary set. Most of the others (more than a dozen) have too many quirks: one takes place in a mattress showroom; in another the Don and Leporello are junkies; in a third, the Don is killed in Act 1 but the opera continues…. It’s up to you.

-- Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

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Mozart: Don Giovanni / Luisotti, Gens, Watts, Esposito, Kwiecien
Opus Arte Sep 2014
DVD
$39.99

Korngold, Goldschmidt, Bloch: Cello Concertos / Steckel, Raiskin

CAvi-music

$19.99 Apr 13, 2011

Julian Steckel – remember that name – Bravo!

This is the concerto debut disc by the young – not yet thirty – German cellist Julian Steckel. Let me say right away I like everything about this disc – a lot! Intelligently programmed, very well engineered and stunningly played by both the orchestra and all importantly the soloist. Clearly there are many fine cellists competing for the attention of the classical music world. Most have bravura techniques that were the reserve of the super-elite barely a generation ago but all too often this can be at the expense of musicality or sensitivity. What impresses and indeed thrills me about Steckel’s playing is the range of colour and emotion he finds in this trio of rather wonderful scores.

It was an excellent idea to bring together on a single disc three cello concertos by three Jewish composers of the last century. Two, Korngold and Goldschmidt, were displaced from their native lands by the rise of the Nazis whilst Bloch, although Swiss-born and thereby protected from the horrors of the final solution at first hand, also left his native land to settle in America. None of the works presented here are ‘rare’ in recording terms and Bloch’s Schelomo is that composer’s most popular concert work. Admirers of the other two composers are almost certain to have these works in their collections too so why buy this disc? The answer is because it is simply that good. The disc opens with the Korngold Cello Concerto in C Op.37. The genesis of the work is well-known; for the Bette Davis film Deception the key love triangle consisted of a musician, a composer and Davis. At a crucial point in the film the cellist/musician plays in concert the composer’s concerto. For this sequence Korngold wrote a six minute mini-concerto which was expanded into the ‘full-scale’ work we have here. Even then it lasts a bare twelve minutes. Korngold had a unique clause in his Warner Brothers contract allowing him to retain intellectual ownership of the music he wrote for their films hence themes from film scores appear in concert works and vice versa. This is a work where the boundary between celluloid and stage blurs to nothing. By having to cram the entire concept of a concerto into such a short time-frame there is a danger that it will appear as all gesture and little content – Addinsell’s Warsaw Concerto is surely the ultimate example of that appealing failing. Korngold’s genius – and I am sure he was a genius – is that it works and is satisfying both as music and formally. The first thirty seconds of the performance here tells you that you are in for something rather special. The orchestral introduction is alert; lean and motile but with the sharp tang of nostalgia that is uniquely Korngold. Steckel’s entry is confident, ardent, articulate and superbly projected. At the same time the engineering and production allows conductor Daniel Raiskin to bring out so many telling details in Korngold’s brilliant scoring. The more you hear of Korngold the more you realise what a unique sound-world he created characterised by halos of brilliant harps, keyboards and tuned percussion enveloping lyrical lines of heart-breaking beauty. Listen to Steckel’s handling of the second subject; [track 1 1:20] – this is head-turningly, heart-stoppingly, lump-in-throat-makingly beautiful. As I said, there have been several other versions of this work; I still have a great affection for the first version I knew on the RCA Classic Films scores series played by Francisco Gabarro (RCA GD80185 recently reissued as Sony RCA Red Seal 88697 81266 2), but Steckel is better. Likewise Peter Dixon on Chandos (CHAN9508 or more recently CHAN10433X) and Julius Berger on CPO (999 077 or as part of set of 4 CPO 999150-2) are perfectly good just not this good. For Korngold completists the Naxos version of the film score played by Alexander Zagorinsky is of interest because it is the compact film-score version (Naxos 8.570110-11). There is one last version worth hearing but hard to find because it was on a BBC Music Magazine cover disc played by Frederick Zlotkin conducted by Leonard Slatkin (BBC MM234, 2003). [Not to forget Zuill Bailey on ASV] They are the sons of the cellist Eleanor Aller who played the solo part on the soundtrack and Zlotkin plays her cello.

Turning to Schelomo competition is if anything even fiercer. Liner-note writer Norbert Ely describes it as “a deeply pessimistic work” which I suppose it is although I must admit I had never thought of it as such. Another valid point Ely makes is how Bloch forged a musical language which he describes as coming from an “imaginary folklore”. Indeed Schelomo is soaked in music that seems to echo with archaic ritualistic chants whilst actually being original themes. As with the Korngold it is a work where the cello-cantor-protagonist has to play with an extraordinarily wide range of tonal colour and musical flexibility. Here, as throughout the entire programme, Steckel displays his chamber-music loving roots with playing of rapt concentration and pared-back beauty. I have heard performances which emphasise the virtuosic elements more but if you buy into Ely’s concept of “ecstatic pessimism” then this performance is a revelation. Again elsewhere I have occasionally found the rhapsodic form of the work can give it a loose and discursive feel. With Steckel the sense of directed movement and controlled development is unmistakable. As ever, he is helped in this enormously by the excellent Staatsorchester Rheinische Philharmonie with Raiskin’s unerring sense of pace. Time and again I found myself hearing little flecks of orchestral colour and nuance that I have not noticed before. Perhaps this does not displace my other favourite versions but that has more to do with them presenting valid alternatives. The passage that resonates here for me is the broken lament on the cello after the main central climax of the work [track 2 14:10] – playing of profound beauty and poignancy; “why hast thou forsaken me” in music. Part of Steckel’s particular skill is matching his tone, both bow speed and pressure, to his vibrato – at times febrile and fast and at others wider and slower. It might seem like an obvious way to vary one’s palette but it is rarely used with such carefully considered sophistication as here.

After a brief reassessment in the mid-nineties it seems that the music of Berthold Goldschmidt is sinking back into obscurity. The relative lack of interest is marked by the fact that the recoding of his cello concerto here – just its third by my reckoning – makes it his most recorded work. Steckel is again in powerful company with David Geringas on CPO (an all-Goldschmidt orchestral works disc: 999 277-2 ) and no less than Yo-Yo Ma on Decca (a Goldschmidt concertos disc: 0289 455 5862 2 DM). But he has nothing to fear from either. This work was written in 1953/4 as an evolution of a lost piano and cello work written for Emanuel Feuermann in 1932. The reason it fits so well in the programme here is the way it can be heard as springing from much of the same cultural and aesthetic heritage as the other two works yet ultimately pursuing a more abstract and ‘pure music’ path than the emotional Schelomo or literally cinematic Korngold. The orchestration is sterner, more cerebral than the other two; by no means lacking in colour or beauty but less luxuriant. Likewise the soloist leads a rigorous musical debate rather than riding the passionate wave. All of the earlier virtues of the disc are again evident – beautifully secure yet flexible playing from all departments of the orchestra and the transparent recording allowing the contrapuntal detail of the score to register with natural ease.

I have not mentioned before that I like very much the balance that has been achieved between soloist and orchestra. Given that the three works were recorded at different sessions spread over four months the consistency of the sound is exceptional. After the hot-house emotions of Bloch and Korngold, Goldschmidt can seem to be relatively staid although the second movement Caprice mélancolique is powerful and terse. The inspiration for the work is neo-baroque with an expressionist element that must have seemed terribly contrary to the mood of the times in which it was written. With the benefit of more than fifty years hindsight it can be seen that Goldschmidt forged a very individual musical personality from pre-existing materials and forms. Therein lies another unifying link with these three works and composers. None of them was revolutionary but neither were they anything like as reactionary as they were considered during their compositional lifetimes. The closing Tarantella of Goldschmidt’s concerto has a rather take-it-or-leave-it feel which I rather like – a sense of following one’s own path without compromise.

The format of the packaging is the increasingly popular cardboard gatefold with the liner booklet tucked into a slot of the cover. The liner is in German and English only. Norbert Ely’s notes are brief but good.

This looks like it is a self-promoted disc by Steckel. If so, knowing the time effort and cost of mounting such a project, I hope it has the success and gains the attention playing of this calibre richly deserves. Increasingly players are having to self-promote and I am always sorry if I cannot be as enthusiastic about the results as that kind of dedication and effort merits. But here we have a disc that would grace the release schedule of any major international company and playing worthy of comparison with the very finest. The tiniest caveat is the short playing time at 54:04 but as a tailor would say, “never mind the cost, feel the quality”. Here on a single disc we have the finest version of the Korngold and performances of major works by Bloch and Goldschmidt more than equal to any other. Julian Steckel – remember that name – Bravo!

-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International

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Korngold, Goldschmidt, Bloch: Cello Concertos / Steckel, Raiskin
CAvi-music Apr 2011
CD
$19.99

Brahms: String Quartets Nos. 1 & 2 / New Zealand String Quartet

Naxos

$19.99 Jul 08, 2016

Successful string quartet performance is all about communication, in the purest sense of the word: constant giving and exchanging, a communion among the players based on an intimate relationship bound by deep understanding, of the music and of each other. It’s the essence of what is meant by ensemble. When you have that, you can play anything together and make it vital, and most of all, true to the composer’s intent.

As my colleague David Hurwitz said in an earlier review, Brahms’ quartets are “respected more than they are loved”, and can sound “overworked” and “texturally monotonous”. It’s true that you can play unlawfully fast and loose with these quartets and pretty much get away with it, given enough rhythmic finesse and blurring of textures, and these are among the many reasons that listeners, including me, usually aren’t that much in love with these dense, phenomenally busy, complicated pieces. But when you hear them played with the unusual clarity, scintillating detail, and dynamic, exacting, turn-on-a-dime expressive statements uttered by an ensemble of literally one interpretive mind and unassailable technique, you have to rethink the reasons for your avoidance reflex when faced with a Brahms quartet close encounter.

When the New Zealand Quartet made this recording its members had been working and playing together for 20 years, a rarity in the music world, and a situation that pays huge dividends in performance. There are few relationships anywhere in which the members spend more time together, pouring heart and soul into an intensely charged, creative collaboration, its success built both on individual artistic drive and vision, and contingent on compromising, blending, and capitalizing on the strengths of those impulses and passions. Any group that can manage this, whether a married couple or a string quartet, is something of a miracle, and, especially if you’ve seen this group in concert, you know how special it is.

And there is no holding back in these performances: the NZSQ literally attacks and wrestles Brahms’ scores to the ground–a positive, friendly intervention, for the good of all concerned. These performances should not disappoint any listener, whether you hate Brahms or love his music, because they take you out of the realm of preconception and just deliver aggressive, uninhibited, and yes, passionate expressions of these scores, respectful of the composer while always working to realize the fullness of the music that Brahms struggled so long and hard to create.

My only regret here is that with a recording you don’t truly experience what this group is doing. Unless you actually see them in concert, you don’t appreciate the incredible group dynamic that’s happening during a performance, you don’t totally get the ensemble interaction that produces this result. They stand when they perform–cellist Rolf Gjelsten sits on a special raised platform–and there’s a physicality to the communication among the players that’s only comparable to a dance, a ballet. And if you can make a ballet out of Brahms’ string quartets, well, you’ve got something that’s worth listening to.

– ClassicsToday (David Vernier)

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Brahms: String Quartets Nos. 1 & 2 / New Zealand String Quartet
Naxos Jul 2016
CD
$19.99

Rudolf Kempe Conducts Dvorak & Strauss

ICA Classics

DVD

$26.99 Feb 22, 2011

This new DVD preserves some superb performances directed by a conductor of the highest calibre, performing live and at the peak of his abilities.

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STRAUSS Ein Heldenleben 1. DVO?ÁK Symphony No. 9, “From the New World 2” • Rudolf Kempe, cond; 1 Royal PO; 2 BBC SO • ICA 5009, mono (DVD: 89:22) Live: Royal Albert Hall, London 1 8/28/1974; 2 8/29/1975

How absolutely wonderful it is to see Rudolf Kempe, looking hale and fit, ascend the podium and direct an absolutely magical performance of Ein Heldenleben with his usual minimum of podium fuss, his face mirroring both the music’s changes and his obvious pleasure at hearing it emerge the way he wants, the Royal Philharmonic members playing their little hearts out for him. This is exactly the way I always imagined Kempe in performance, as close to Toscanini’s podium style as any conductor who outlived him, eliciting that magical, transparent sound, ignoring nothing in rhythmic acuity and liveliness, and now we have the pleasure of seeing how he did it.

The sound is still mono but the images are in color. The members of the orchestra look completely rapt in concentration; everything in this performance is focused on the music, nothing on how they look to the audience. A bit dull to watch? Perhaps. But, like watching such similar conductors as Toscanini, Doráti, and Böhm, it amazes one that such exuberance of spirit and a rich palette of colors can emanate from such outward calm and control. For make no mistake, Kempe was a master of coloration. He knew how to make an orchestra “speak.” He knew the secret, now lost to a modern generation of conductors, of how to play music like this so that it sounded not only beautiful but noble, eschewing bombast in favor of the long line, the gradual ebb and flow of suspense, and—I reiterate—that unbelievable palette of colors he had at his disposal. Kempe’s strings had the sound of a choir singing.

In my experience there was only one performance of Ein Heldenleben I really loved prior to hearing this performance, and that was Willem Mengelberg’s 1941 broadcast with the Concertgebouw Orchestra. The Concertgebouw of that time was by no means the technically precise instrument that the New York Philharmonic of 1928 was, in his Victor recording, but there is so much more detail and drama in the later performance that I forgave the roughly played passages. Kempe’s Heldenleben is an entirely different animal. The contrasts are all musical, not as dramatic, but with a flow and coloristic quality that make the score sound more akin to the upward spiral of ascending angels than to Mengelberg’s explosive reading (though they join hands in “The Hero’s Deeds of War”). There is nothing like it in my experience, not even Kempe’s studio recording for EMI, because the studio recording adds the goop of mid 1960s reverb to a performance that doesn’t need it. Here we have, if you will, Kempe urtext, and the result is simply mind-boggling. Listen, for instance, to the way he makes the low bass passage resound with great depth without sounding heavy or ponderous. His legato flow is seamless, the accuracy and crispness of his attacks and releases flawless. It was exactly moments like these that took your breath away when listening to a Kempe performance.

Yet he resented EMI’s pushing him as a Wagner and Strauss specialist. Kempe conducted a great deal more than that, Schubert, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Dvo?ák, Shostakovich, and Bruckner among them, and all of them well (he’s one of the few conductors besides Furtwängler who, to me, made some sense of Bruckner’s succession of endings in his symphonies), and here he follows Heldenleben with the “New World” Symphony of Dvo?ák. Unexpectedly, his performance of this symphony is startlingly dramatic, having almost the punch and drama of Toscanini’s excellent 1953 recording, only with Kempe’s patented transparency. The orchestra swells and ebbs flawlessly and naturally under his guiding hands; an unexpected rubato after the brief flute solo is picked up with tremendous force when the brass and high strings erupt again. Dozens of little details—clipped rhythmic accents here, buoyant legato bridges there—mark this interpretation as unique.

Kempe uses a fairly small baton, even a little smaller than Toscanini’s but not as tiny as the toothpicks that Strauss and Reiner used. His arms are a little further apart than Toscanini’s, but he is only slightly more animated on the podium, his arms moving in graceful arcs. Only a few months after the Dvo?ák performance came the shocking announcement that Kempe had died. I can remember that moment as if it were yesterday; it grieved me more than you can imagine. He had a very special gift, sought by many but bestowed on few, and we are all the poorer for his untimely passing.

FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

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In a letter to his friend, the distinguished French man of letters Romain Rolland, Richard Strauss categorically denied that he was the model for Ein Heldenleben: “I am not a hero. I have not got the necessary strength; I am not cut out for battle; I prefer to withdraw, to be quiet, to have peace.”

Some commentators may have refused to take Strauss at his word, but the uncredited director of this BBC transmission of a 1974 Proms concert is clearly not among them. His view of things is crystal clear for, throughout the whole of the work’s first section, a musical depiction of Der Held (The Hero), he resolutely directs his cameras at the conductor. There is, in fact, not a single second of that opening 4:59 of music when Rudolf Kempe is not pictured on-screen, whether in close-up, middle distance or in long-shot. The corollary of that fact is that as soon as we begin the work’s second section, Des Helden Widersacher (The Hero’s Adversaries), we start to see the orchestra members on their own – but maybe I am now stretching my theory of the supposed relationship between the visual images and the “text” just a little too far.

Even though Kempe’s widow Cordula records in the DVD booklet notes that her husband “thoroughly resented” being pigeonholed as a Strauss (and Wagner) specialist, his affinity with Strauss’s music was well recognised at the time. His record company EMI persuaded him to set down the complete orchestral works on disc. No less a personage than the Queen Mother reportedly gushed “Oh, Mr Kempe, when will you do the Alpine Symphony again?” (rather a surprise, given recent revelations of the sort of music she listened to at home). And, as evidenced in this performance taken from the conductor’s very last concert with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, the 1974 Promenaders were quite over the moon with this Ein Heldenleben; critic Joan Chissell reported that this performance elicited “a hero’s ovation and rightly”.

Having never seen Kempe conduct live or on film before, the first thing that struck me was just how physically charismatic and animated he was on the podium. By fastidious, very precise gestures with both his baton and the fingers of his left hand, he coaxes some exquisite sonorities that we can fully appreciate thanks to his scrupulous care for orchestral balance - and to the installation of fibre-glass acoustic diffusing discs on the Royal Albert Hall’s ceiling just five years earlier, successfully reducing its notorious echo.

The outstanding characteristic of Kempe’s interpretation is that, by the application of both sensitivity and sensibility, he gives Strauss’s score the opportunity to breathe. This is, indeed, anything but a brash, bombastic account: the orchestra plays with notable and carefully controlled intensity and Erich Gruenberg’s substantial violin solos are especially affecting - he justifiably gets a special roar of approval from the Promenaders as he takes his bow.

If the Strauss is very fine indeed, the Dvorák is, however, outstanding. Edward Greenfield’s booklet notes suggest that its distinguishing feature is the wide range of dynamics that Kempe applies. What struck me most, however, was the interpretation itself. In contrast to performances that emphasise the score’s elements of cheery Bohemian bonhomie, Kempe’s is a deeply serious account.

The opening movement is characterised by fierce attack and precision - wonderful playing from the BBC orchestra - and Kempe minimises the elements of lyricism in favour high drama. In a similar vein, the second movement’s sentimentality is entirely played down. Its well-known “big tune” ( Goin’ home, Goin’ home, I’m a goin’ home / Quiet like, still some day, I’m just goin’ home) is moved purposefully along and the fervent manner in which its central section is played communicates, to this listener at least, a distinctly uneasy feeling of agitation and unrest.

Kempe’s interpretation is nothing if not consistently of a piece for the scherzo and the allegro con fuoco finale are similarly driven powerfully forward. The formers elements of bucolic rusticism are given short shrift and the latter, right from its opening bars, emerges as a real daredevil ride and is terribly exciting - while still very skilfully controlled and crafted.

This New World is one that emerges as a real eye-opener and a very different work from the one that we’re usually presented with. It justifiably receives a huge ovation from the audience.

This new DVD, then, preserves some superb performances. The direction – originally for BBC TV - is expert and thus almost entirely unobtrusive, the visual image - in colour throughout - is sharp and pleasing and the sound is more than acceptable. It offers an opportunity to acquaint or reacquaint oneself with a conductor of the highest calibre, performing live and at the peak of his abilities.

-- Rob Maynard, MusicWeb International

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Rudolf Kempe Conducts Dvorak & Strauss
ICA Classics Feb 2011
DVD
$26.99

Bach: Goldberg Variations / Daniel-Ben Pienaar

Avie Records

$19.99 Oct 01, 2011

Expressive, atmospheric, intelligent performance.

I was highly impressed by and still very much relish my time spent with Daniel-Ben Pienaar’s Mozart’s complete Piano Sonatas on AV 2209. Fans of this set will find all of this promise further fulfilled in this Goldberg Variations, though as a reviewer it would have been an easier task to welcome slightly less well-trodden repertoire. Pienaar’s Bach is magnificent and, to a point, individual, but does it really stand out in such a crowded field?

Daniel-Ben Pienaar poses as many questions as he provides answers in his deeply considered and well written booklet notes for this release. He doesn’t point to specific influences with regard to his interpretations in this great keyboard work, but develops ideas on its place and time both in the present, as well as the alliances formed between the circumstantial and the timeless – qualities and values inherent in the music itself, and the ways in which these can be approached and adapted by players over time.

This is a probing intellectual interpretation which on occasion displays dazzling feats of speed, but which is more often a more introverted exploration of the piece. It is almost as if Pienaar is playing for his own satisfaction, and leaving it up to us to decide whether we want to listen and take the journey with him. The compact timing reflects brisk tempi at times, but the unhurried feel of the playing and a minimum of ornamentation also allows a highly selective observation of repeats to remain a credible choice. Pienaar doesn’t work much with ‘variation within variations’, so there is no sense we are being cheated out of colourful technical insights and improvisational touches by not hearing certain bars come around for a second time.

Comparisons can be made ad nauseam, but looking at another recent take on the Goldberg Variations by Nick van Bloss on the Nimbus Alliance label shows how personality shades identical music into fascinatingly different manifestations. Bloss is the more extrovert of the two, seeking wit in the music and cheekily expressing it with effects like an occasional extra octave wallop in the bass. This ‘vibe’ turns his performance into more of a public experience – no less well considered than Pienaar’s, but introducing Bach to the bustle and language of the street: the call of market traders and the revving of motors. Bloss’s Bach isn’t rough and ready, but is easily the more resistant to external knocks and blows, and in this way is more of a challenge to Glenn Gould’s 1955 Goldberg Variations, the recording which gave the work and its performer such a remarkable hit status at that time.

This is not to say Daniel-Ben Pienaar’s recording is weak-willed and softly undemonstrative, but there is a gentler side to his playing – perhaps also a side-effect of a rather rounded piano sound – which brings out the warmth in the heart of the music rather than its big venue street-cred. There is bounce and life where Bach demands it, in the first variation for instance, and this sets the pace for the first grouping of variations which concludes with a rousing Variatio 4. Extremes of speed are a feature of some variations, and Variatio 5 is the first such example, acting as little more than a prelude to Variatio 6. Pienaar’s sensitivity to Bach’s dance style is demonstrated in a Giga which barely touches the floor, so light is his touch on the keyboard. The second grouping of variations has its finale in a robust performance of the Variatio 10 Fughetta. Central to the next group is the expressive Variatio 13, in which the little inner rubati which Pienaar uses make the performance seem that much more reflective and yes, introverted. The sound appears almost to want to stay within the case of the piano, rather than broadcast to the last row of an invisible audience. This is not to say the playing is timid, but you could equally imagine this as a clavichord performance. Variatio 14 blows away the mood created in a horizontal shower of sparkling notes, again making it a sort of prelude to the gently eloquent lines of Variatio 15, which concludes another ‘block’ within Pienaar’s structuring of the piece.

The conjoining of variations is a feature of a slow, almost tentative sounding Variatio 20, which serves as a launching point for an arguable too swift and brutal Variatio 21, which goes at a speed too fast for our minds to keep up. The expressive highlights of Variatio 21, 22 and 25 are all done marvellously, though without extremes of slowness or attempts to seek too far beyond Bach’s notes beyond what is already so miraculous on the page. Pienaar does dive for pearls, but not in a disproportionate sense – no need for extra breathing apparatus, though the atmosphere is breathtaking. He writes of the ‘return home’ of the Quodlibet in the way that “the use of folk songs suggests quite literally a return to shared ancestral roots.” In this way the final repeat of the Aria is more of a coda and a release, the feeling of which is palpably expressed by Daniel Ben-Pienaar.

As a bonus to the Goldberg Variations we are given a continuous passacaglia version of the Fourteen Canons BWV 1087, which are based on the first eight bass notes of the Aria from the Goldberg Variations. I’ve been intrigued by these little gems for a while now, but while Pienaar’s more lively moments are good you have to get used to his overly straight opening and an occasional over-prominence of the bass line in places. If you want to discover these fascinating canons have a listen to the Hänssler Bach Edition Musikalisches Opfer CD 92.133 which, along with the canons BWV 1072-78 is the version which convinced me that J.S. Bach was one of the first minimalist composers, even to the point of momentarily confounding our reviewer. Pienaar’s programme concludes with a lovely prayer-like performance of Bist du bei mir from Bach’s Anna Magdalena Notebook, the source of the Aria from the Goldberg Variations, or at least where it sees its first appearance in Bach’s manuscripts.

To conclude, this is a superbly expressive and atmospheric recording of the Goldberg Variations. One may not quite agree with the occasional extremes of tempo, but there is little doubting the jigsaw-puzzle accuracy and attention to detail with which Daniel-Ben Pienaar has formed his shaping of this masterpiece. Subsequent to my review of the Mozart sonatas I was contacted with regard to the piano sound, which one commentator found rather ‘harsh, full of reverb, somewhat lacking in definition’. I’m still quite happy with the sound quality of this, though I partially take the point about the reverb and definition. This Bach was recorded at the same location and the reverb is less by comparison; the instrument that touch closer to the microphones, something which can make all the difference. It’s perhaps not quite ‘demonstration’ piano sound with a little more mid-range bloom than makes for perfection, but is still very good.

-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International

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Bach: Goldberg Variations / Daniel-Ben Pienaar
Avie Records Oct 2011
CD
$19.99

Beethoven: Piano Concerto No 5; Rimsky-korsakov: Scheherazade / Nelsons, Bronfman [blu-ray]

C Major Entertainment

Blu-Ray

$45.99 May 29, 2012

Still reeling from the previous night’s concert I was eager to hear Nelsons and the Concertgebouw in this mix of Classical and Romantic pieces. They are joined by the Israeli-American pianist Yefim Bronfman, who I’ve not heard in a very long time. I tend to associate him with the Russians – notably Rachmaninov, Prokofiev and Shostakovich – but he has recorded a fine version of the Beethoven concerto with David Zinman and his Zurich band (Arte Nova). As for the Rimsky, it’s one of those showpieces that seldom fails to please; and if the sonics of that earlier Blu-ray are anything to go by it should be a knock-out.

The Ruins of Athens, written to accompany August von Kotzebue’s play of the same name, is hardly a Beethovenian staple, but when it’s played with such affection it’s hard to understand why. Right from those opening figures on the double basses it’s clear this is going to be a performance of spontaneity and spirit, the camera cutting to key players when they get the chance to shine. And shine they do, the Concertgebouw as animated as they were the night before. On the podium Nelsons is equally alert, his boyish grin a sign that he’s having fun.

And who wouldn’t, with such thoroughbreds between the shafts? As for the concerto, a warhorse that seldom gets the performance it deserves, it’s played with tremendous brio. Bronfman fingerwork is clear and unmannered, and the orchestra responds with alacrity to Nelsons’ firm tug of the reins. Balances are generally fine, although the brass and woodwinds tend to leap out in the tuttis – some unnecessary knob-twiddling, perhaps – and the bass is not as firm as I’d like. Otherwise the Allegro is both passionate and elegant, and tempi are well judged; there’s plenty of thrust too, although at times momentum does flag.

Such lapses are rare though, Nelsons’ whipping his wayward steeds into line quickly enough. That said, the Adagio and Rondo-Allegro are more problematic. In the former the flute passage before the piano’s first entry is absurdly out of proportion – more intervention, perhaps – and Nelsons moulds the music far too much for my tastes. Yes it is beautiful, but it’s cloying and comes close to limpidity overload; as for Bronfman, his phrasing at the start of the Rondo is less easeful than usual. Even more distracting is the fitful progress, the music lacking the cumulative weight and growing tension one hears in other – more compelling – performances. It seems the audience have no such qualms though, demanding an encore. Bronfman duly obliges with a coruscating rendition of Chopin’s Etude in F major.

I so wanted to wallow in this concerto but alas I’m not likely to return to it in a hurry. At least there’s a consolation prize in the form of Scheherazade, whose terrifying start nearly blew me out of my seat. Having set the volume to a comfortable level for the Beethoven I was not prepared for such an assault on my senses; goodness, this really is Rimsky for the IMAX age, the brass- and timp-drenched climaxes simply crushing. The quieter moments are just as arresting, the Sultana’s beguiling narrative superbly evoked by the violin and harp.

As for ‘The Story of the Kalender Prince’ it’s packed with incident and colour, the many close-ups a reminder of just how virtuosic this piece is, and how exposed players are at times. There’s firm. characterful playing from the woodwinds, and the formidable battery of trombones sounds especially baleful. The big, bold recording handles these dynamic swings with aplomb, although anyone of a nervous disposition – or with unsympathetic neighbours – might want to reduce the volume by a couple of notches. As always, Nelsons is engrossed in the music, and it’s impossible not to succumb to his obvious and infectious enthusiasm.

That’s one of the unexpected joys of this concert; everyone is clearly having fun. What a change from those stiff-backed performers, stern of countenance, we see all too often. The tender music of ‘The Young Prince and the Young Princess’ is most eloquently done, and Nelsons shapes the dance-like episodes very persuasively. It’s the final movement, with its festival and shipwreck, that will take your breath away. The intimidating roar of this orchestra in full spate really confirms the sonic potential of Blu-ray; indeed, I’ve never heard that dash of spray, crack of sail and final cataclysm as powerfully realised as it is here. Those final, sinuous bars – as if enclosing these tales in parentheses – are simply overwhelming in their simplicity and charm.

Not surprisingly the audience demands – and gets – an encore in the shape of one of the Slavonic Dances from Dvor(ák’s Op. 46. It’s a polka, now winsome now trenchant, its storming conclusion a thrilling coda to an exhilarating concert. That said, Nelsons still looks as fresh as a daisy, and his players don’t seem to have wilted either. Despite the rather disappointing concerto I’m very impressed by this multi-talented Latvian; he can certainly batter one’s ear drums – the Rimsky is indeed a knock-out – but as the previous night’s Shostakovich Eighth and his 50th anniversary War Requiem so eloquently demonstrate, he can batter one’s heart as well.

A delightful overture, a competent concerto, and a Scheherazade to die for.

-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

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Beethoven: Piano Concerto No 5; Rimsky-korsakov: Scheherazade / Nelsons, Bronfman [blu-ray]
C Major Entertainment May 2012
Blu-Ray
$45.99

Grainger: The Complete Piano Music / Martin Jones

Nimbus

$37.99 Oct 01, 1996

An essential box set of Graingeresque delight.

2011 marks the fiftieth anniversary of Percy Grainger’s death and the event has witnessed the reissue of a number of important recordings. This isn’t one such, because it’s remained in the Nimbus catalogue throughout, but I did want to draw brief attention to this super-abundant, characterful, and wholly marvellous five CD set of the complete piano music, played by the indefatigable, stylistically apt Martin Jones. He’s one of the undersung masters of a variety of repertoire – as good in Iberian music as he is in British, I’d suggest.

Here his encyclopaedic survey acts as a modern day cornerstone. You should hear his recordings, if you are excited by Grainger, and compare and contrast them with the composer’s own recordings which fortunately – all the 78s at any rate – have recently been reissued in a five CD set by APR [7501]. The experience is both exciting and diverting. But Grainger only recorded (and re-recorded) a fraction of his own pieces, whereas Jones has collared the lot. And how!

The first disc starts with some classic Grainger; the brio, clarity and speed of Jones’s take on Handel in the Strand is a tonic whilst To a Nordic Princess rises to a passionate pitch of assertion. In a Nutshell is a suite the charms of which seldom pall, and in this performance Jones crafts an unusually expressive Pastoral, slow and spare then incrementally building up in sonority, power and speed. The playful and vibrant badinage of The Immovable Do is especially well realised – one of the very best moments in this opening disc - though the reflective and beautiful Colonial Song runs it, very differently, close. Those who have never come across the roistering cakewalk of In Dahomey are in for a treat.

The second disc is given over to arrangements. To a degree it’s of less pressing interest to the Grainger novice, but it’s essential ground for those who want to understand his enthusiasms and the musical means by which he conveyed them. The opening of the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto makes some fearsome demands on the intrepid solo pianist whereas the Brahms Cradle song that cannily follows it is delightfully spun – lissom legato, not lion-hearted virtuosity. His arrangement of Nimrod is probably quite well known but that of Rachmaninoff – the finale of the Second Concerto – probably less so. I must admit that the Dowland transcription, of Now, O now, I needs must part, is absolutely irresistible in Jones’s performance. He really does have the touch for refinement in these works. Of the other works, it’s interesting to contrast Grainger’s own 1929 78 of the Rosenkavalier with Jones’s. Then there’s the convoluted tribute to Stephen Foster, the well-known Bach Blithe Bells and the same composer’s Fugue in A minor – it reminds one of Bach’s importance to Grainger, as performer and composer.

The third disc offers 28 examples of Graingeresque delight. Some are very concise folk-songs and traditional songs, others better known examples of his art. Let me just suggest a few which I think especially illuminating or unusual. If you’ve not come across The Merry King, try to do so, and you won’t regret it; it’s hauntingly beautiful. A Jutish Melody was recorded by Grainger in one of his very rarest 78s – a double-sided 1929 Columbia. He takes it a touch faster than Jones. Spoon River is played with vibrancy but Jones is ever alert as to treble colouration. There are also the simple and complex versions of One more day my John.

The fourth disc is a curious collection but that only makes it the more valuable for completists. We have Stanford’s Four Irish Dances, the deeply sensitive Fauré songs – what a shame Grainger didn’t record them – and the opening movement transcription of the Schumann Piano Concerto, which, like the Rachmaninoff, is probably best known by close readers of Grainger’s work in this field – a virtuosic single-voiced domestication, as it were, of the concerto literature. Another such is the better remembered Grieg Concerto first movement, also in this disc. His homage to Delius comes via the Air and Dance – but there are plenty of things to occupy the eager ears in this disc. Uppermost amongst them we find Angelus ad Virginem, a lovely carol, and then some of Grainger’s early works. These include the Schumannesque Klavierstücke in E, and the other early pieces which are variously awkward and Brahmsian or, in the case of the one in B flat, incomplete. There’s also the one in D, which Grainger dedicated to his father. The Bigelow March, an insouciant piece, was actually written by Ella Grainger, Percy’s wife.

The final disc has bigger works, ending with The Warriors. It also includes those pieces written for four hands on one piano, four on two pianos, six on one piano and six on two pianos. Children's March: "Over the Hills and Far Away" is a sonorous and ebullient example of Martin Jones and Richard McMahon playing on two pianos. But all these pieces are richly exciting and attractive. In the midst of all this don’t overlook the calm solo Grainger fashioned from William Byrd – The Carman’s Whistle or indeed Gershwin’s Embraceable You. The resilience of the performers and the clarity of the six-handed, two-piano, arrangement of The Warriors elevates it to a must-hear experience.

I hope this has given some indication of why this is so essential a box for admirers of the composer. I appreciate that Nimbus’s sound in these 1989-91 recordings is not to everyone’s tastes, but it will certainly do, and the booklet notes are classy. What a splendid undertaking this was.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

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Grainger: The Complete Piano Music / Martin Jones
Nimbus Oct 1996
CD
$37.99

Brahms & Joachim: Violin Concertos / Rachel Barton Pine

Cedille

$19.99 Jan 01, 2003

REVIEW:

This is not only one of the best sounding violin and orchestra recordings ever made, but the entire concept is so smart, so well executed, and so thoughtfully planned that even if it were not so musically stupendous it still would be worthy of your attention. As it is, this is one of those rare productions in which absolutely everything goes right. Consider, for example, the problems attendant upon releasing yet another recording of the Brahms Concerto. You have a small independent label with excellent musical credentials but limited resources, a soloist of great musical gifts (Rachel Barton's previous discs have all been top-notch) but who isn't a "big name", and a work that virtually every other violinist with access to a microphone has recorded, sometimes more than once. Given the fact that on musical evidence Barton's Brahms certainly deserves to be heard, what's a label to do?

First, secure the services of a world-class orchestra under a fine conductor (Carlos Kalmar, music director of the Oregon Symphony and Chicago's Grant Park Festival, fills that bill nicely). Amazing, isn't it, that when major labels are screaming about how they can't afford to record major American orchestras Cedille has found the resources to do just that? Second, instead of simply offering the Brahms, you find an interesting coupling. And let's not kid ourselves: Joseph Joachim's Hungarian Concerto isn't just an "interesting coupling"; it is the Holy Grail of Romantic violin concertos, a work so lengthy (47-plus minutes, about the same as the Elgar concerto), so difficult, yet so deliberately symphonic and, in a sense, anti-virtuoso in conception that it has never once received even a merely adequate recording. Take that coupling, play it to a fare-thee-well (demonstrating once and for all that the work is indeed a brilliant and neglected masterpiece), and then toss in an equally fine Brahms Concerto, all offered at a two-for-one price. If that isn't a recipe for success, then nothing is.

Indeed, Joachim's youthful Hungarian Concerto is so beautiful and full of life, its Gypsy-tinged melodies so entrancing, that only its inordinate difficulty accounts for its rarity. In concert it would be a show-stopper, and Rachel Barton has its full measure. The heavily symphonic first movement requires the soloist to engage in genuine chamber-music dialog with the orchestra, especially the principal winds. Joachim's orchestration must stand with the finest ever achieved in a concerto; there are no dead spots and no balance problems as long as the soloist has the taste and musicianship to know when to cede the spotlight and when to take command.

Take the remarkable cadenza as a typical example: there's no barnstorming sawing and scraping, but instead a densely flowing river of lyricism joined now and then by solo flute and oboe. It's one of the most purely gorgeous passages ever written for the violin, and Barton plays it for all it's worth (and finishes up with some devastating descending chromatic octaves that actually sound like musical notes and not a rusty hinge).

The slow movement features another very attractive principal theme, and when it returns at the movement's conclusion in the cellos, decorated by garlands of ornamentation from the soloist, the result sounds like some lost work of Dvorák at his most melodically characterful. Barton's electrifying attack on the finale, a dazzling "Rondo from hell" with a whiplash perpetual motion principal subject, sets the seal on this remarkable performance. Her double-stops (and there are tons of them: check out from 2:30 into the movement) are as sweetly tuned and richly voiced as her legato is smooth and her sense of rhythm acute. Even after this long work I wouldn't be surprised if you went right back and played the finale over again. It's that much fun.

The word that most succinctly sums up Barton's Brahms is "aristocratic". Among recent recordings, she plays Milstein to Hilary Hahn's Heifetz. The timings are identical to Perlman and Giulini's celebrated performance with this same orchestra, but for my money Barton achieves an even finer balance between poise and virtuosity (and shows far greater dynamic sensitivity, especially in the finale). With opening-movement tempos relaxed but never slack, Barton's warm, round sound allows her to really dig into the music where necessary (witness that famous fanfare-like motive, or Joachim's first-movement cadenza)--but she never emits a raw or unlovely note. The second movement, with a gorgeous oboe solo at the start, is just heavenly, and the finale reveals plenty of high-spirited energy but also numerous delightfully phrased touches in its various episodes. At the very end Barton and conductor Kalmar produce a wind-down coda simply perfect in its timing and wit. She even includes her own eminently musical and enjoyable cadenza on a separate track. Simply jump ahead when the orchestra stops (the balance of the coda is also included, so you don't have to skip backward to get the ending).

As noted above, the sonics are sensational. The opening of the Brahms, with dark-hued strings answered by the winds like a gleam of sun breaking through the clouds, will take your breath away. Although Barton deserves much of the credit for emitting such attractive sounds, it certainly helps that Cedille's engineers capture her shining tone with nary a trace of shrillness, even in the highest positions. Barton herself writes an excellent set of notes (surely indebted to Tovey in discussing the Joachim, but none the worse for that), and to put the icing on the cake she plays a 1742 Guarneri "del Gesu" violin, the "ex-Soldat", selected by Brahms himself for his friend and colleague, violin virtuoso Marie Soldat. Recordings don't get any better than this. Rachel Barton, conductor Carlos Kalmar, and Cedille deserve your enthusiastic support for putting this project together and executing it with such perfectionist zeal and consummate musicianship. There's also a lesson here that the whole industry should take to heart: Where there's a will, there's a way, and it's OK to make fewer recordings, especially if you make great ones. Astounding!

--David Hurwitz

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Brahms & Joachim: Violin Concertos / Rachel Barton Pine
Cedille Jan 2003
CD
$19.99

Irmgard Seefried Edition

ELOQUENCE AUSTRALIA

$119.41 Feb 14, 2025

"We all envied her, because all that we had to struggle so hard to achieve seemed so natural and self-evident to her because she knew how to sing from the heart" said Elisabeth Schwarzkopf of her colleague Irmgard Seefried. Collected here are Seefried's complete recital recordings for Deutsche Grammophon as well as highlights from her recordings of opera and sacred music for the label and includes material both unpublished and new to CD.

Irmgard Seefried was a revered artist among lovers of natural singing, wrote the critic Alan Blyth. 'The emotions, grave or gay, are expressed directly, unfussily, genuinely, in that peculiarly outgoing manner that was this artist's supreme gift.' This gift illuminates song repertoire from Bach to Bartók and beyond in a newly compiled and remastered set of her recital albums recorded by Deutsche Grammophon in the 1950s and 60s. 'If I were condemned to hear only one voice for the remainder of my life I think it might well be hers,' wrote Blyth on another occasion (a reissue of the 1953 'Liederabend' anthology of concert performances). 'If I wanted to be charmed, to laugh or to cry I would find her the perfect companion.'

The core of the set is formed by several albums of Romantic Lieder by Schubert, Schumann, Brahms, and Wolf. As well as an imaginative collection of Goethe settings, there is an album of Heine and Schumann, poetry and song, in which the recited portions are reissued on CD for the first time. The set includes two appendices, both also new to CD: Seefried's contribution to the DG audio documentary series 'Erzähltes Leben', and 'Erik Werba Accompanies You', in which the soprano's regular recital partner plays the piano part for famous Lieder (with the idea that the listener at home will take the sung line for themselves).

Seefried also made several opera recordings as well as sacred music for Deutsche Grammophon. Generous excerpts from these - often including entire scenes, not just arias - are included as newly-compiled anthologies across five CDs.

Seefried's voice was renowned for it's beauty and tonally purity, with minimal vibrato. Her diction was exquisite, as were her phrasing and legato in Schumann's cycle of Mary, Queen of Scots Lieder. Especially in folksong repertoire such as the Liebeslieder-Walzer of Brahms, she contrived to give the impression that her art came easily to her, and that it's expression was an inevitable extension of her personality, devoid of any suggestion of imposing her will upon the music. But this impression was the essence of Seefried's greatness, and it transferred to modern song repertoire, too: not only the opulent romanticism of Respighi's Il tramonto but Werner Egk's German-Mediterranean Quattro canzoni, and a selection of sacred solo motets by Paul Hindemith that surprised and delighted many critics on it's first issue.

All the material in this Original Covers collection has been newly remastered, and the set is richly illustrated and accompanied by a new essay on Seefried's art by Tully Potter as well as an English translation of Ein Selbstporträt by Fer van Campen.

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Irmgard Seefried Edition
ELOQUENCE AUSTRALIA Feb 2025
CD
$119.41