Steiner: Adventures of Don Juan (CD review)

Also, Arsenic and
Old Lace. William Stromberg, Moscow Symphony Orchestra. Tribute Film Classics TFC-1009
(2-disc set).

Austrian Max Steiner (1888-1971) wasn’t always the great
movie-score composer he became; it took him a while to become known as the
“father of film music.” He worked on Broadway for years as a musical arranger,
orchestrator, and conductor before coming to Hollywood in 1929 and registering his
first big hit with King Kong (1933),
which thanks to Steiner became one of the first films to use an extensive,
original, scene-specific musical score. After that, Steiner went on to do
practically every big picture Warner Bros. and MGM made in the Thirties,
Forties, and Fifties--movies like The
Informer, Now Voyager, Jezebel, The Charge of the Light Brigade,
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre,
Casablanca, The Searchers, and Gone with the Wind--finally winding
down his career in the early Sixties.

In this 2-disc set Steiner wrote the main selection, Adventures of Don Juan, for Errol
Flynn’s 1948 tongue-in-cheek swashbuckler. The album’s producers--Anna Bonn,
John Morgan, and William Stromberg--have reassembled the complete score for the
film and present it in thirty-three tracks in another meticulous release from
Tribute Film Classics. They even provide a bonus trailer track. Movie fans,
film-music fans, as well as classical music fans in general will all enjoy the
results.

It had been a full decade since star Errol Flynn made “The
Adventures of Robin Hood,” and by 1948 due to hard drinking and riotous living
the actor’s health and career had fallen into decline. Still, thanks to a
cheeky screenplay by George Oppenheimer and Harry Kurnitz from a story by Herbert
Dalmas (with uncredited assistance from Robert Florey and William Faulkner of
all people) and fairly lively direction by Vincent Sherman, the movie made a
welcome throwback to Flynn’s earlier swaggering movie roles.

Appropriate to a film about the legendary Spanish nobleman
famous for his uninhibited lifestyle and many seductions, Steiner wrote a score
that takes full advantage of situation. The music is dashing, heroic, Romantic,
exciting, sentimental, suspenseful, and serene by turns. Perhaps it is no
coincidence that Steiner’s godfather was, literally, Richard Strauss, whose Ein Heldenleben, Till Eulenspiegel, Don
Quixote, and, especially, Don Juan
probably inspired the younger composer.

Co-producer John Morgan reconstructed and orchestrated a
number of musical cues that hadn’t survived the sixty-odd years since Steiner
first wrote them, so we welcome them. What’s more, the “London Processional”
track sounds especially appealing, and audiophiles might want to single it out
for demo purposes

When I first heard William Stromberg leading the Moscow
Symphony Orchestra in movie music back in the days when they recorded for Marco
Polo and Naxos, I was a little suspicious. How would a Russian orchestra do
playing Hollywood movie scores? It didn’t take me long to realize they handled
the music splendidly, and the conductor and orchestra have only gotten better
with time. The Moscow forces play with a style and flair worthy of any
Hollywood studio orchestra, but they add further polish, resonance, and richness
to the equation.

In addition to Adventures
of Don Juan, the set includes Steiner’s complete score for the 1944 Cary
Grant black comedy Arsenic and Old Lace
(eleven tracks). Here, almost all of the musicians’ prepared parts survived the
years. Needless to say, the music is delightful. Then, too, we also get an
additional alternate track, “Baseball a la Brooklyn,” a trailer track, and even
a trailer for WB’s 1953 horror movie “The House of Wax.”

Recorded in 96kHZ/24-bit audio at Mosfilm Studio, Moscow,
Russia, in 2010, the Tribute sound is every bit as good as you would hope for
this music. It’s extremely clear, clean, and dynamic, with a strong,
audiophile-quality impact. It’s a tad forward, true, but it adds to the
midrange clarity. Stereo spread is wide, occasionally seeming to extend beyond
the boundaries of the speakers. Miking is fairly close, so orchestral depth
suffers a bit, but, again, it helps the overall transparency. Highs are
particularly sparkling and sound wonderful. In the last analysis, while the
audio is not quite the ultimate in realism, it is quite spectacular, the way we
expect movies to sound.

A lavishly illustrated, seventy-page booklet of pictures,
text, notes, synopses, biographies, and such caps off a terrific CD
presentation. You can find Tribute Film Classic products available at most
retail outlets, or you can find out more about them by going directly to their
Web site: 
http://www.tributefilmclassics.com/

To hear a brief excerpt from this set, click here:





JJP

Passion & Resurrection (SACD review)

Music inspired by
Holy Week. Stile Antico. Harmonia Mundi HMU 807555.

Stile Antico (“ancient style”) is an early-music vocal
ensemble of British singers who formed in 2001 and specialize in music of the
Renaissance and early Baroque. They have already recorded half a dozen albums
for Harmonia Mundi, and this latest one, Passion
& Resurrection, offers a series of thirteen selections based on texts
inspired by Holy Week and Easter. It presents a cross-section of composers from
England and the European continent that take the listener from Jesus’s entry
into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday through His Last Supper on Maundy Thursday, the
Crucifixion on Good Friday, and the resurrection on Easter day.

The composers range in date from the fifteenth to
twentieth centuries, some of them famous, some of them not so much. They
include William Cornysh (1465-1523), Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625), Thomas Tallis
(c. 1505-1585), Orlande de Lassus (1532-1594), Cristobal de Morales (c.
1500-1553), Tomas Luis de Victoria (c. 1548-1611), John McCabe (b. 1939), John
Taverner (c. 1490-1545), Francisco Guerrero (1528-1599), William Byrd
(1540-1623), Jean Lheritier (c. 1480-1551), and Thomas Crecquillon (c.
1505-1557).

The program begins with William Cornysh’s “Woefully
Arrayed,” a poem given fresh musical fittings from John McCabe over four
centuries (and five tracks on the disc) later. McCabe’s version is a little
secular sounding but still reverent. Did I have any favorites among the
selections? Certainly, Thomas Tallis’s “O sacrum convivium” encapsulates
everything good about this early musical genius. It’s beautiful in its harmonic
structure and sung to perfection by Stile Antico.

There is an especially intent devotional quality to
Cristobal de Morales’s “O crux, ave” that is hard to resist. And Thomas
Crecquillon’s “Congratulamini mihi” is lovely in the extreme, while exuding a
feeling of joyfulness, exultation, and inspiration. But to pick favorites among
so many engaging tunes is fruitless. Take your pick; they’re all a joy.

The singing is the special pleasure of Stile Antico,
though. Although there are only about fifteen persons involved in this
particular production, they sound almost like a full choir, their voices
blending so well, their harmonies so exacting, their tone and timber so
precise, so lilting, lyrical, and soaring. I think I could listen to them sing
anything. For the record, they are Helen Ashby, Kate Ashby, Rebecca Hickey, and
Alison Hill, sopranos; Emma Ashby, Eleanor Harries, Carris Jones, and Martha
McLorinan, altos; Jim Clements, Andrew Griffiths, and Benedict Hymas, tenors;
and James Arthur, Will Dawes, Oliver Hunt, and Matthew O’Donovan, basses. You’d
swear there were two or three times their number singing.

Recorded in exemplary fashion by Harmonia Mundi at All
Hallows Church, Gospel Oak, London in 2012, the sound is most pleasing on the
ear. HM recorded it in stereo and multichannel on this SACD hybrid disc, so
depending on your playback equipment, you can listen to it either way; I
listened in stereo on an SACD player, and it sounded splendid. There’s a sweet
ambient glow around the voices, making them sound very much in a large, mildly
reverberant church acoustic. However, the resonance is not so great as to
cloud, veil, or diminish the vocals in any way. It simply makes them appear
richer and fuller. The ensemble sound entirely natural in this setting, the
voices miked at a moderate distance to provide a realistic presentation, the
singers sounding warm, smooth, and lifelike, never bright or edgy. Each section
of the choir--indeed, each individual member--comes across clearly and
distinctly.

The foldout Digibook packaging contains an extensive,
forty-five page booklet of notes, pictures, and texts. Moreover, a healthy
seventy-one minute running time contributes to the album’s appeal. It’s all
very impressive.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Elgar: Orchestral Works (CD review)

Jacqueline du Pre, Janet Baker; Allegri String Quartet; Sir John
Barbirolli, Philharmonia Orchestra, Halle Orchestra, London Symphony Orchestra,
Sinfonia of London. EMI 3 67918 2 (5-disc set)

There is no doubt
that Sir John Barbirolli (1899-1970) was one of the grand masters among Elgar
interpreters. There is also no doubt
that it’s good to have all of this conductor’s EMI stereo recordings collected
together in a single place. The folks at EMI have provided all of Barbirolli’s
Elgar material from six separate discs in a low-priced, five-disc box set,
which is a remarkable bargain.

The recordings
include Sir Edward Elgar’s (1857-1934) Symphonies
Nos. 1 and 2, Introduction and Allegro, Elegy, Sospiri, Falstaff, Cockaigne, Froissart, Enigma Variations,
Pomp & Circumstance Marches Nos. 1-5, Serenade in E minor, Sea Pictures, and Cello Concerto. Yes, it is a quite a collection.

Now, given that each
of the works has probably never seen a more authoritative performance and that
the playing is practically flawless, you can see the value of the set.
Personally, I find the string music with the Sinfonia of London, the Sea Pictures with Janet Baker, and the Cello Concerto with Jacqueline du Pre
topping the charts, but I would not want to be without the other renditions as
well. Barbirolli conducts the two big symphonies rather broadly, but you can
hear his affection for the pieces in every note.

No one has really ever topped the 1965 performance of the Cello Concerto by young cellist Jacqueline du Pre and Sir John,
though. A booklet note suggests that people initially criticized Ms. du Pre for
having too much spirit, too much energy, in her interpretation, but Sir John,
one of the world’s première Elgarians, defended her, saying that such
exuberance was necessary in the young; besides, Elgar himself once remarked
years earlier that he preferred vigorous readings of his works because “I am
not an austere man.”

The first and forth
movements of the Concerto seem
particularly noteworthy for their wistful, nostalgic look back at a calmer,
more tranquil world before the Great War, and it is here that no one can accuse
du Pre of being too spirited; she is, in fact, quite at peace with the world in
a heartfelt performance that commands one’s respect from start to finish. Then,
the Sea Pictures, sung by Janet
Baker, are more like the Elgar of old, having been written over twenty years
earlier, sounding in part, like “Sabbath Morning at Sea,” similar in mood to
his pomp-and-ceremony days. The addition of Elgar’s Cockaigne Overture in this set is icing on the cake, a wonderfully
evocative, colorful, and affectionate orchestral description of Victorian
London.

It’s true that
several other conductors, notably Sir Adrian Boult (EMI) and Vernon Handley
(EMI), have also recorded excellent performances of many of these works, yet it
is Barbirolli who holds sway on so many of them that to have his recordings
together in one box is priceless.

The sound, recorded between 1962 and 1966 with the three
orchestral ensembles listed above, varies only slightly, from a tad heavy to a
tad thin. But most of it comes off quite realistically, revealing some of EMI’s
best sound from one of the company’s best recording periods (the Sixties and
Seventies were good years for EMI audio engineers). The set is a no-brainer,
and I hold it in my highest regard.

To hear a brief excerpt from this set, click here:





JJP

Horns for the Holidays (HDCD review)

Jerry Junkin,
Dallas Wind Symphony. Reference Recordings RR-126.

Over the past thirty-odd years, the name Reference
Recordings has become synonymous with excellent performances and
audiophile-quality sound. Their 2012 release Horns for the Holidays is no exception and affords another
excellent example of how good recorded music can be.

The concert that Maestro Jerry Junkin and the Dallas Wind
Symphony perform combines popular Christmas songs with traditional and
classical Christmas numbers for a most-joyous occasion. The program begins with
John Wasson’s “Festive Fanfare,” a mélange of tunes that shows off the trumpets
especially well. You might have to wonder how well a wind band can bring off
these sometimes delicate selections, the answer being, very well, indeed. The
Dallas ensemble performs like a precision instrument, all the players
apparently virtuosos in their own right. As a group they sound as a single
note, a single unit, and they bring with them all the nuance of a virtuoso
force.

For the second selection, we get Leroy Anderson’s familiar
“Sleigh Ride,” a song I grew up with and thought had been around forever.
You’ll recognize it immediately and probably figure the same thing I did. But
Anderson wrote it in 1948, a truly instant classic, here played with gusto by
the Dallas Winds.

Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” gets a lovely
concert-band arrangement that exemplifies the nuanced approach I mentioned
above. Then, for a change of pace, we get David Lovreien’s “Minor Alterations:
Christmas Through the Looking Glass,” in which we find any number of well-known
tunes hiding out in other guises. It’s charming.

And so it goes. You’ll enjoy “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,”
“The Christmas Song” (“chestnuts roasting by an open fire”), “Have Yourself a
Merry Little Christmas,” and “Deck the Halls.” Moreover, Leroy Anderson’s “A
Christmas Festival” will no doubt delight you, and it will shake your rafters
with its vibrant audio response; and John Wasson’s “Jingle Bells Fantasy” takes
an innovative look at the old Christmas war-horse done up in new trapings.

The program draws to an end with the longest track on the
disc, Alfred Reed’s “Russian Christmas Music,” based on Russian folk music;
followed by “Christmas and Sousa Forever,” a clever interweaving of Sousa’s
“Stars and Stripes Forever” and various Christmas favorites. It will make you
smile and provides a befitting finale to a collection of joyful, festive tunes.

Producers Tamblyn Henderson and Donald McKinney and
engineer Keith Johnson recorded the music at Meyerson Symphony Center, Dallas,
Texas, in 2011. As always, Reference Recordings goes for ultimate realism with
this HDCD, resulting in a well-balanced, extended frequency range recording
that offers plenty of impact. Bass is particularly lifelike, showing a strong,
deep punch that makes you feel you’re in the hall with the players. A light,
warm, natural hall resonance complements the sound, supplying an added
verisimilitude to the recording. For a tour-de-force of winds, try the “Minor
Alterations” track.

You can find Reference Recordings products at almost any
retailer, and you can find more information about them at their Web site:
http://www.referencerecordings.com/

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Mozart: Piano Concertos 17 and 22 (CD review)

Also, Rondo in A
major. Kristian Bezuidenhout, piano; Petra Mullejans, Freiburg Baroque
Orchestra. Harmonia Mundi HMC 902147.

Listeners by now have come to expect great sound from the
Freiburg Baroque Orchestra on Harmonia Mundi recordings, whether they fully
appreciate the performances or not. With this album of Mozart piano concertos
with pianist Kristian Bezuidenhout and the Freiburg ensemble, they get both.
They get refined yet lively performances in some of the best possible recorded
sound. It’s a pretty good deal.

Now, here’s the thing: You probably already have these
piano concertos on disc. But do you have them performed on period instruments?
Not only does the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra under Petra Mullejans sound
different because of the period instruments, they play in a period style. And
Bezuidenhout not only plays in a refined though spirited manner, he does so on
a replica of an 1805 Anton Walter & Sohn fortepiano. These Harmonia Mundi
recordings provide vivacious, nontraditional renditions of old favorites, done
up in the fine audio I mentioned above.

The set begins with the Piano Concerto No. 17 in G
major, K.453, which Mozart wrote in 1781 along with five others. The Concerto is lyrical and playful, with a
much lighter feel than its companion piece on the disc, No. 22, written just the next year but sounding far weightier and
more dramatic. Anyway, on the fortepiano, a less rich, less mellow, less robust
instrument than today’s grand piano, No.
17 sounds wonderfully airy, poetic, and delightful.

Bezuidenhout’s playing is sprightly yet always cultured,
even in so frolicsome a piece as this. While it’s true the second-movement Andante has a mildly melancholic air to
it, Bezuidenhout plays it sweetly, never sentimentalizing it. Mozart himself
was quite fond of the finale, so fond of it, in fact, he taught his pet
starling to sing it. The pianist offers up a charming rendition of it, and one
can almost hear the bird whistling along. Fine accompaniment from the Freiburg
band under conductor Petra Mullejans make a good thing even better.

Next is the little Rondo
in A major, K.386, which the composer wrote in 1782. It’s one of many
Mozart fragments found scattered around the world. Although it is considerably
less formidable than the concertos that surround it on the disc, it provides
its own pleasures, being tranquil and serene in a rustic sort of way. Still,
Bezuidenhout and company give it the respect it deserves.

The program concludes with the Piano Concerto No. 22 in E flat major, K. 482, one of three piano
concertos Mozart wrote in 1785. Because of the weightier tone of the first two
movements compared to No. 17, I
couldn’t help wondering at first if a modern piano might not have suited the
music better. After hearing the fortepiano, however, sounding so clear, so
transparent, and so intimate, I again had second thoughts.

The Freiburg ensemble may choose tempos that are on the
fleet-footed side, but they never sound too fast or too rushed. They are almost
always rhythmically gentle and flowing, carrying the music and the listener
along effortlessly. A strong, pounding opening sequence in No. 22 gives way to much more delicate passagework interspersed
along the way, carried out with virtuosic intent by Bezuidenhout and company.
The central Andante projects a
vaguely sorrowful mood, and the finale creates an appropriately zesty
atmosphere with its famous hunting theme. I can’t say I’ve heard any of this
music done any better.

Harmonia Mundi recorded the music in 2012 at the Freiburg
Ensemble House, Freiburg, Germany. It is among the best-sounding discs the
folks at HM have made. The sound is beautifully clear, revealing a wealth of
inner detail. What’s more, one hears a very wide dynamic range and plenty of
punch throughout. Indeed, the impact is sometimes so great, you’d think you
were listening to a rock band. An extensive frequency response features good,
clean highs and taut bass; and a mildly reverberant hall acoustic complements
the piano and the band, producing a modest glow around the music, which along
with the miking contributes, no doubt, to the realistic space and depth we hear
on the recording.

To top off a terrific issue, Harmonia Mundi supply the jewel
box with a light-cardboard slipcover. Overall, it’s one of my favorite releases
of the year.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 1 (XRCD24 review)

Also, Piano Sonata No. 22. Sviatoslav Richter, piano; Charles Munch,
Boston Symphony Orchestra. JVC JM-XR24018.

Ever since I first started listening to things like JVC’s
XRCD audiophile remasters, I’ve become rather spoiled by them. Take, for
instance, this Beethoven First Piano
Concerto recorded more than half a century ago. The sound is rock solid.
Not like most of today’s classical recordings that to me can appear misty,
cloudy, fuzzy, excessively soft, or overly hard. With the exception of a touch
of background noise (and, especially, a discernible bass hum), this older recording from JVC sounds just right,
especially the piano, which is strong and steady in an unexaggerated way. The
JVC XRCD issues may be expensive, but they provide great pleasure.

Sviatoslav Richter was a legend in Soviet Russia before
being allowed to record in the West. When he did begin recording in America,
among the companies he worked for was RCA in their “Living Stereo” series, one
of the best places for any artist to record. Here, backed by Charles Munch and
the Boston Symphony Orchestra, Richter brings
a robust vitality to this first of Beethoven’s five piano concertos. The fact
is, I hadn’t really thought about Richter’s recording much in quite a while
until hearing it on this JVC release. It had been many, many years since I had
first heard it, and I hadn’t remembered it being so thoroughly Romantic or so
thoroughly powerful as it is, nor had I remembered how lovely and embracing the
slow movement could be under Richter. Perhaps it’s just that Richter brings out
the best in the music, I don’t know. Going back and listening to relatively
newer recordings by pianist Stephen Kovacevich with conductor Colin Davis on
Philips and Murray Perahia with Bernard Haitink on Sony, also favorites, I
found them good but not nearly so dynamic or persuasive as Richter.

I have sometimes found Munch and the Boston Symphony
sounding thin, steely, and hard in their early RCA releases, but not quite
here. There may be a touch of hardness to the sound but nothing thin or bright
about this recording, made at Boston’s Symphony Hall in 1960. It is, if
anything, darkly aggressive and absolutely stable, well complementing Richter’s
sturdy, energetic, and wholly realistic piano.

The companion piece on the disc, Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 22, also comes off in a
most vigorous and dramatic fashion. Richter’s way with the keyboard is both
precise and incisive, making each note sound out loudly, clearly, purposefully.
As with the Concerto, the Sonata offers a most impressive
performance and a worthy coupling.

Naturally, for about a third the cost you can get
Richter’s performance of the Piano
Concerto and two sonatas on a mid-priced RCA release, but you wouldn’t get
the sonic impact of the JVC. I cannot recommend any of JVC’s XRCD audiophile
discs unconditionally, given their
cost, but I can say that if you want the best, you pay the price.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Franck: Symphony in D minor (CD review)

Also, Ce qu’on
entend sur la montagne; Hulda, Ballet allegorique. Christian Arming, Liege
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Fuga Libera FUG596.

The idea of the coupling on this album was to bring
together a big, popular work with several other, less well-known pieces by the
same composer. This is hardly a new concept, and numerous other record
companies and musicians have already done it. It does, however, present two
problems: First, it is not exactly conducive to selling a ton of discs to have
unfamiliar titles on it. Second, the lesser-known works may simply demonstrate
to listeners how much better the more-favored work is. There is a reason, after
all, for certain pieces of art being more popular than others; they are usually
better. Nevertheless, for most classical-music fans, the little ballet suite
and symphonic poem that accompany Franck’s Symphony
in D are welcome additions.

The big, popular work, the Symphony in D minor by French (Belgian-born) composer, pianist, and
organist Cesar Franck (1822-1890), opens the show. Franck wrote it, his only
symphony, in 1888, premiering it in Paris the next year, shortly before his
death. It received a poor reception at the time, thanks largely to the musical
politics of the day (leading French musicians disliked Franck’s blend of German
and French musical traditions), but has obviously since become a mainstay of
the classical repertoire.

One of the unusual features of the Symphony is that Franck wrote it in only three movements. The first
movement, marked Lento - Allegro ma non
troppo, begins, as Franck notes, slowly and builds momentum, though never
too fast. Leading the Liege Royal Philharmonic, Maestro Christian Arming takes
his time developing the themes in this movement, increasing the pace
methodically and never making any sudden tempo changes. Instead, he makes
Franck’s many shifts of key and tempo seem entirely normal and expected, he
integrates them so smoothly. Indeed, if one were to be highly critical at all,
one might say Arming was a little too refined, that Franck requires more gusto,
more bravura. I don’t know; what we hear is persuasive enough, with adequate
power when needed.

The second movement, an Allegretto, contains Franck’s famously fetching French horn melody.
Franck himself described this section as resembling “an ancient procession,”
and listeners through the years seem to have agreed. That’s the way Arming
plays it, as a long, slow march, with a more enlivening theme developing toward
the middle. Yet Arming makes it appear as a logical extension of the
processional design.

The final movement, marked Allegro non troppo, takes us back in spirit to the start of the
piece and sounds generally cheerful and exultant. Because Franck used a
typically French cyclic style for the themes, we hear variants of the opening
motif reoccurring throughout the work. Arming supplies plenty of energy here,
without sounding frenzied or exaggerated. His interpretation stands up as
cultured and well tempered to the end.

My preferred
recordings for the Franck Symphony
remain those of Sir Thomas Beecham (EMI), Pierre Monteux (RCA), Charles Dutoit
(Decca), and Marek Janowski (Telarc). However, Maestro Arming makes a good
showing of it, and one should not discount his recording in any way.

The first coupling on the disc, Ce qu’on entend sur la montagne (“What one hears on the mountains”)
is an atmospheric tone poem, creating a mood rather than depicting any specific
scenes. It is quite a lovely piece of music, portraying a lonely, isolated
place somewhere high up in the mountains. Arming draws out this Man vs. Nature
motif nicely, providing a quiet sense of desolation without letting the music
become morbid or depressing.

The second coupling, Hulda,
Ballet allegorique, is something we almost never hear on record or in the
concert hall. It’s a little five-movement ballet suite from Franck’s
long-forgotten opera Hulda, and the
music comes as a treat. Under Arming, it is alternately lyrical and exciting,
and always charming. The question is why more conductors haven’t recorded it.

A generous eighty-one minutes of playing time caps off a
fine release.

Fuga Libera (meaning “free flight”), a label of Outhere
Music, recorded the album at Salle Philharmonique, Liege, Belgium, in 2012. The
sound in the Symphony is a model of
natural audio reproduction. The orchestra stands before us at a moderate
distance, the listener appearing to be perhaps twelve rows or so back. One
still hears a wide stereo spread yet with a modicum of orchestral depth and
good tonal balance. Bass is only modest, the highest notes seem a bit muted,
and played too loudly there is a touch of forwardness in the lower treble.
Midrange transparency also suffers slightly, while remaining realistic from
this perspective. The overall effect is warm and lifelike, making a most
pleasant listening experience. For whatever reason, maybe a change in miking,
the accompanying items sound a tad more open and dynamic.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Chicago Moves (CD review)

Music of Woodward,
Cheetham, Baxter, Garrop, Deemer, Sampson, and Tower. Gaudete Brass. Cedille
CDR 900000 136.

If you’ve never heard anything from the Gaudete Brass
quintet before, you probably aren’t alone. They formed in 2004, and this
Cedille album, Chicago Moves, is I
believe only their third CD release. However, judging by the quality of their
music, I should think it will be far from their last. The group’s goal is to
present “serious brass chamber music at the highest level of excellence” and to
encourage a “worldwide appreciation of the art of brass chamber music through
live performances, recordings, education, and the creation of new works.” The
present album contains six new pieces written expressly for the Gaudete Brass
ensemble, all in world-premiere recordings, plus one slightly older work.

The program begins with the brief tune Gaudete by James Woodward (b. 1978).
“Gaudete” means “rejoice” in Latin, so that’s what this opening music is all
about. It sounds a cheerful, sometimes cheeky note, with some entertaining
little harmonies bouncing around in it.

Next is the Sonata for Brass Quintet, a work in three movements by John Chetham (b. 1939). The first movement is sprightly, the second lyrical, and the third big and energetic. This is probably a better piece for demonstrating the prowess of the Gaudete Brass, their playing smooth, sophisticated, spontaneous, enthusiastic, and highly accomplished. The five members of the Gaudete Brass--Bill Baxtresser and Ryan Berndt, trumpets; Julia Filson, horn; Paul Von Hoff, trombone; and Scott Tegge, tuba--seem genuinely to be having fun playing this music together, and their joy is infectious.

After that is A
Great Commercial City by Brian Baxter (b. 1985), the title referring, of
course, to Chicago, the Gaudete Brass’s home port. Baxter based the piece
loosely on the folk song “El-a-noy.” It may remind some listeners of Carl
Sandburg’s famous ode to Chicago in spirit if not in tone: “Strong, husky,
brawling, City of the Big Shoulders.”

Then, there’s Helios
by Stacy Garrop (b. 1969). Helios was the Greek god of the sun, and the music
describes his chariot ride across the sky. It begins with a fast and fiery
sunrise and ends in a serene, sunset mood. Of all the music on the disc, this
one is so well played, it stood out as one of my favorites.

Following that is the simply titled Brass, a three-movement piece by Rob Deemer (b. 1970). It explores
the various sounds and textures of the brass instruments, a sort of “Young
Person’s Guide to the Brass Quintet.” It’s the most-colorful music on the
program, and the Gaudete ensemble make the most of it, offering up a joyous
celebration of their own group. The movement “Slide” is particularly playful.

The final premiere is the title tune, Chicago Moves, a four-movement work by David Sampson (b. 1951).
This one is also about the city of Chicago, going into more detail describing
aspects of the place and its landmarks. Each movement is a kind of individual
tone poem.

The album concludes with Copperwave, a Latin American-inspired piece by Joan Tower (b.
1938), which she wrote in 2006. It’s also a first of sorts, though, using a tuba rather than a bass trombone. Ms. Tower writes about
it that “copper is a heavy but flexible mineral...and most brass instruments
are made of copper. The ideas in this piece move in waves, sometimes heavy ones
and at other times lighter--also in circles, turning around on the same notes.”
It, too, is playful music, which brings out all the dramatic unity and
immaculate playing technique of the Gaudete Brass.

Cedille’s topflight engineer Bill Maylone recorded the
Gaudete Brass at Goshen College, Goshen, Indiana in 2012. He miked it at a
moderate distance, the sound obtained quite realistic. The stereo spread does
not extend across the room, nor should it. Rather, we hear the sound of a
well-integrated group of musicians playing in a mildly reverberant acoustic,
with a good separation of instruments and no compartmentalization. The various
members of the group sound as one, instead of a collection of separate players,
which is all for the good. It’s the way any ensemble would sound in a real
life, round and resonant. While midrange transparency is not as absolutely
pristine as one might find on an audiophile disc, there is more than adequate
air and depth to the sound, further promoting the feeling of actually being in
the hall at a modest distance from the group.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Bach: The Violin Concertos (CD review)

Also, Double Violin
Concerto; Oboe and Violin Concerto. Lara St. John, violin; Scott St. John,
violin; Ariana Ghez, oboe; New York Bach Ensemble; Eduardo Marturet, The Simon
Bolivar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela. Ancalagon Records ANC138.

This 2012 album contains Bach’s two Violin Concertos and the Double
Concerto that violinist Lara St. John and her brother Scott released about
a decade before, but the album now also includes Bach’s Oboe and Violin Concerto, recorded some eight years later. Here’s
the thing the disc illustrates: Ms. St. John’s playing style, execution, and
presentation has improved over the years as maturity has tempered some of her
youthful enthusiasm and further heightened her virtuosity. So for me the disc’s
earlier-recorded Bach may not be among her best work, although it is still
worth one’s attention.

Earlier this year, I had heard much of this music from
violinist Anne Akiko Meyers and the English Chamber Orchestra on an eOne Music
CD that I greatly admired. Thus, fair or not, it was with fond memories of Ms.
Meyers’s fine interpretations that I listened to Ms. St. John’s album.

The first thing I noticed about the outer movements of the
solo Violin Concertos is that Ms. St.
John plays them fast. While they’re not breathless, they are quicker than most
readings, quicker even than the period-instruments’ recording with La Petite
Bande I hand on hand.

The next thing I noticed is that although the fast
movements zip right along at a vigorous clip, they aren’t necessarily more
exciting, more involving, more insightful, or more penetrating for all their
speed than many more-relaxed renditions. Ms. St. John is simply...fast.

After that, I noticed that the slow inner movements are
actually slower than ones I usually hear. There’s nothing wrong with this,
either, especially since it does nothing seriously to harm or disrupt the
beauty of the movements or the integrity of the work as a whole. Still, it
probably creates more of a contrast than some listeners may care to hear.

Then, I also noticed a certain rigidity of attack
throughout, without much gradation, ornamentation, or variation of nuance.
Again, Mr. St. John’s interpretative manner might please listeners who prefer a
fleet, unadorned approach, while it may simply strike other listeners as too
complacent, too safe, merely a proficient playing of the notes without much
feeling behind them. In other words, there is a degree of sameness about Ms.
St. John’s renderings of the solo Violin
Concertos, despite the vigorous playing. Fortunately, as I said earlier,
Ms. St. John seems to have learned over the years to combine her passionate
performance style with a genuine understanding of the music, as evidenced by
her more-recent recording of the Mozart Third
Violin Concerto for Ancalagon. 

Contrary to my feelings about the Violin Concerto tracks, however, I rather enjoyed the Double Concerto, which Ms. St. John
performs with her brother Scott. Here, she puts her brisk pacing to use better
here than in the solo affairs, keeping the music always on its toes so to speak
and involving at least this listener thoroughly.

Finally, we come to Bach’s Concerto for Oboe and Violin, on which oboist Ariana Ghez joins Ms.
St. John, with Maestro Eduardo Marturet and the Simon Bolivar Youth Orchestra
of Venezuela in support. This seemed to me the best performance on the disc,
even though I didn’t care for the sound as much. The interpretation is
graceful, flowing, easygoing, yet fully committed. It glides along
effortlessly, carrying the listener with it. There even seems to be a better
interaction between the soloists and the orchestra. Very nice.

Audio engineer Adam Abeshouse recorded the two Violin Concertos and the Double Concerto at the Academy of Arts
and Letters, New York City, NY, in 2000, and the Avie label originally issued
the album in 2002. Engineer Jose Leonardo Pupo recorded the Oboe and Violin Concerto at Sala Simon
Bolivar, Centro de Accion Social por la Musica, Caracas, Venezuela, in 2008. In
the New York sessions we hear a very smooth response, slightly close and well
detailed. There is not a lot of depth involved, however, and not quite enough
air around the instruments to provide an absolute realism. Compared to the
Meyers/ECO recording on eOne I mentioned earlier, the St. John recordings also
appear a tad veiled. In the final work on the disc, the orchestra is a bit more
distanced, a bit thinner sounding, and a bit brighter in the strings. Neither
of Ms. St. John’s recording venues quite contribute to sound of audiophile
quality.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Beethoven: Symphony No. 7 (XRCD2 review)

Fritz Reiner, Chicago Symphony Orchestra. JVC JMCXR-0006.

I hadn’t heard this
performance in so long I’d forgotten I even had the RCA version in my
collection. But when I heard it again in this JVC audiophile remaster, it all
came back. How could I have forgotten about it? I don’t think it’s ever been
out of print on vinyl or silver disc since RCA recorded it all the way back in
1955. Maybe it’s one of those things so close at hand, we lose sight of it.

In any case, the
performance is outstanding in almost every way. It embraces passion, white-hot
fury, forward impulse, and excitement in equal measure, perhaps only just
missing out slightly in the ultimate lyricism of the dance. In this regard, I
continue to prefer Colin Davis’s first, EMI interpretation, but there is no
denying Reiner’s intensity. Nor can one argue with Reiner’s sense of balance.
His reading of the Seventh is a cross
between the bold momentum and drive of his Beethoven Fifth and the exquisite symmetry and repose of his Sixth. The accompanying Fidelio Overture is likewise incisive and fiery.

Now, factor in JVC’s
superb XRCD2 remastering, and you have a disc that goes immediately to the head
of the class. The sound, some of the earliest stereo available, is also some of
the best in this repertoire and some of the best in the JVC XRCD audiophile
lineup. It is solid, steady, clean, and focused, with all the elements in
perfect harmony. The tonal proportions are musical and concordant, the bass is
firm, the midrange clear, the highs shimmering but without fuzz or edge. There
is no glassy ring to the sound, little hardness, and no softness. It’s just
good music and good sonic reproduction. Play a few minutes of almost any new
digital orchestral recording, and then play a few minutes of this one. I’m
willing to bet you will find the early stereo superior in almost every way.

OK, so you know you
can buy this music on an RCA “Living Stereo” disc for the half the cost of this
JVC release and get the Fifth Symphony
and the Coriolan Overture thrown in to boot. So what? You’re in it for the music,
right, not just a bargain-basement price tag. Or are you the kind of person who
listens to his music from behind the magazine or newspaper you’re reading, or
from another room for heaven’s sake? This JVC remastering improves upon the
sound of the RCA disc, if ever so slightly. Is it twice as good? Of course not.
However, it is better, which I think is the point. And to the dedicated
audiophile, “better” may be worth the few extra bucks.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Bach: Partitas Nos. 2 & 6 (CD review)

Also, Toccata in C
minor. David Fray, piano. Virgin Classics 50999 070944 2 2.

For anyone unfamiliar with the term, a “partita” is
basically just a set of variations, which in the eighteenth century and Johann
Sebastian Bach became a suite for solo instrument. In the case of Bach’s
partitas, he wrote three of them for violin and six for harpsichord; on the
present recording young French classical pianist David Fray plays two of the
harpsichord partitas on the piano.

First, what you have to understand about Bach’s partitas
is that he wrote them, in his words, “to refresh the spirits of music-lovers.”
Although Bach modeled them in part on the then-popular French dance suite, he
departed from the format in sometimes writing music for them that had nothing to
do with dancing. Instead, we get six or seven highly original, often highly
ornamented movements in each partita, sometimes lyrical, sometimes whimsical,
sometimes bright and cheerful, sometimes moody and melancholy.

Second, you have to understand that Fray’s playing is
equal parts brilliant, virtuosic, traditional, playful, and eccentric. Critics
have compared him in this regard to the Canadian pianist Glenn Gould, with whom
Fray shares many characteristics, including a love of Bach and a penchant for showmanship.

Anyway, the program begins with the Partita No. 2 in C minor, BWV 826. It comprises six movements: A Sinfonia, Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, Rondeau, and Capriccio.
Fray attacks them with vigor and enthusiasm, yet communicates much nuanced feeling
as well. The pianist has said, “We shouldn’t be afraid of acknowledging the
expressiveness of Bach’s music; it’s not as though the Romantics had a monopoly
on expressivity.” Fray furnishes a performance that is lively and dazzling in
the faster movements to complement a refreshingly poised demeanor in the slower
sections. These are not gut-wrenchingly sentimental readings but thoughtfully
considered ones. The Sarabande, for
instance, comes off with a kind of serene introspection rather than just being
another stately dance, while the Capriccio
displays a sprightly, driving gait.

Next, we get the Toccata
in C minor, BWV 911, which stands in stark contrast to the partitas around
it. Whereas the partitas sound generally upbeat and refreshing as Bach said,
the Toccata is much more weighty and
dramatic. Thus, it offers an effective counterpoint to its companion works on
the disc. Still, Fray doesn’t keep it melodramatic, preferring to present its
opposing themes in a serious yet rhythmically dynamic manner. It’s a most
pleasing result.

The program ends with the Partita No. 6 in E minor, BWV 830. It comprises seven movements: A Toccata, Allemande, Courante, Air, Sarabande,
Tempo di Gavotta, and Gigue. Again, Fray jumps directly into
the fray, so to speak. As he also says, “I try to make music like a conductor,
not just as a pianist.... The piano constitutes a way of getting nearer the
heart of the music. How do you balance the voices? How do you find a
progression in a movement? How do you put the polyphony in place?” Certainly,
he has found answers to these questions, as his interpretations are quite
easily ones hard to forget.

Partita No. 6
is, indeed, the highlight of the set. The music sounds inspired, and Fray’s
firm grasp of the music is evident in every note. Much of the work is moving in
its sensitivity, and Fray’s approach to it is heartwarming, to be sure. The
centerpiece is the Air, here a
folklike dance that Fray pursues energetically, almost too much so. Yet one
cannot help admiring and enjoying the infectious appeal of the presentation.
This is not Bach for fogies.

Virgin did a good job recording the music at Notre-Dame du
Liban, Paris, in 2012. A rather close-up piano provides ultimate detail. There
is a beautiful glow provided by the lightly reverberant hall acoustic, which
together with an excellent transient impact delivers a most-realistic piano
sound. It’s one of those reach-out-and-touch-it affairs that seems as though
the instrument is in the room with you.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Prokofiev: Romeo and Juliet, highlights (CD review)

Andrew Mogrelia,
National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine. Naxos 8.572928.

When Russian pianist, conductor, and composer Sergei
Prokofiev (1891-1953) first presented his now-popular ballet Romeo and Juliet to the Bolshoi Ballet
in 1935, they promptly pronounced it “undanceable.” Soon after, the public
heard suites from the ballet, but they did not get to see it performed until
1938, the version we hear nowadays usually the revised 1940 score. Maestro
Andrew Mogrelia and the Ukraine National Symphony Orchestra recorded the full
ballet in the mid Nineties for Naxos, originally issued in a two-disc set, and
what we have here is a generous selection of highlights on a single disc.

Mogrelia gives us an atmospheric account of the score
rather than an exciting, thrilling, or passionate one, with rather more odd
tempo changes than I’d prefer between and within individual movements. Often,
he favors a slower, more deliberate pace than some other conductors, which I’m
sure dancers would prefer.

It worried me at
first that the opening scenes in Verona's streets were a little too tame to
catch fire, foreshadowing a degree of banality to come; but by the time of the
Capulet party, things pick up considerably. Mogrelia is at his best, though, in
the lyrical dance sequences and in the smaller, more intimate love scenes,
where he builds the various tensions unerringly.

Since Prokofiev
intended his score be highly graphic, taking us carefully through Shakespeare’s
play practically scene by scene, the music is open to a wide range of
interpretation. Befitting Shakespearean tragedy, with Mogrelia we get more
emotion in the slower segments, yet with not always the passion or impulsive
youthfulness the music demands. Even though Mogrelia reaches out and touches
our heart at times, he leaves out a little of the melodrama.

So, while Mogrelia
tends to tame the more boisterous parts of the music, he handles the more
lyrical, romantic, and tragic sequences with a delicate hand. Maybe “The Duel”
and “The Death of Mercutio” could be more exciting, but “The Young Juliet” at
the beginning and “Juliet’s Death” at the end are most graceful and affecting.

The booklet notes
describe the tracks pretty well, each segment clearly labeled to summarize the
action of the plot. Not that Prokofiev’s work needs much explanation, the music
already being so colorfully descriptive. Anyone familiar with Shakespeare’s
play should have no trouble following the plot.

Some people may
disagree with the choice of highlights Naxos have assembled, and if that’s the
case, one can always buy the complete ballet and program one’s own selections.
Or perhaps a recording of the two ballet suites would be more to one’s liking.
In any case, my own preferences in this music remain the complete recordings by
Andre Previn and the London Symphony Orchestra (EMI), Lorin Maazel and the
Cleveland Orchestra (Decca), and Vladimir Ashkenazy and the Royal Philharmonic
Orchestra (Decca).

Naxos recorded the
complete ballet at the Concert Hall of Ukrainian Radio in 1994 and released this
current set of highlights in 2012. The audio is quite nice, one of Naxos’s
best-sounding recordings. It’s big and full, and a little close, with a wide
stereo spread and a moderately good sense of depth. Midrange clarity and
transient response are first-rate, and bass, though modest, is effective. The
treble appears well extended, although the upper strings sound just a tad
forward. It’s true that occasionally one notices that sections of the orchestra
seem compartmentalized, yet it’s hardly anything of concern. It’s quite
enjoyable sound.

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Vivaldi: The Four Seasons (UltraHD review)

Joseph Silverstein,
violin; Seiji Ozawa, Boston Symphony Orchestra. LIM UHD 054.

When I first heard this recording in the early Eighties,
Telarc had just released it on LP, and I’m afraid at the time it did not
particularly impress me. As I recall, I found the performance too refined, too
sedate, for my taste. I guess I had by then become used to more lively
performances, many of them by period-instruments bands, and thought violinist
Joseph Silverstein, conductor Seiji Ozawa, and players from the Boston Symphony
Orchestra a bit too genteel for me. Well, that was then and this is now.
Listening anew to the album in a recent LIM UltraHD audiophile remaster, I must
admit the performance is rather refreshing and its approach not quite as
relaxed as I remembered.

Sure, Italian violinist and composer Antonio Vivaldi
(1678-1741) wrote hundreds of pieces of music, yet most people probably only
know him for his Four Seasons violin
concertos, the little tone poems with their chirping birds, galumphing horses,
barking hounds, dripping icicles, and howling winds. Meant to accompany four
descriptive sonnets, they make up the first four sections of a longer work the
composer wrote in 1723 titled Il cimento
dell'armonia e dell'inventione (The
Contest between Harmony and Invention). People hardly remember the other
eight concertos in the set.

Silverstein begins the Spring
Concerto at a deliberate pace, yet it
isn’t slow or heavy. Where Silverstein’s performance, played on a 1742 Guarneri
del Gesu violin, comes to the fore, however, is in the slow movement, where it
is exquisite in its execution. Neither Silverstein nor Ozawa attempts to
embellish the music any further than necessary so, no, we don’t get quite as
imaginative an interpretation as, say, that of Alan Loveday with Neville
Marriner and the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields (Decca). Not that this is
any kind of shortcoming, you understand. Indeed, Silverstein’s more direct,
more traditional rendition is quite fetching, as I say.

Summer comes off
well, too, and seems just as lively in its own way as Spring, perhaps more so. Silverstein’s violin tone is both velvety
smooth and expressively animated. By the time he’s into the Presto, he’s worked up quite a head of
steam and ends the music in high good spirits.

Autumn sounds
rather plan and simple, especially in the beginning. There may be too much of a
good thing in simplicity. Nevertheless, the playing sounds so cultured, it
grows on you.

Finally, we come to the Winter Concerto, a
section that for some soloists and conductors can be a bit vexing. The cold
chattering of teeth and the running through the ice and snow require some
finesse, which Silverstein and company pull off well. OK, maybe they actually
get a little too hectic as they go along, but it is nonetheless quite colorful.
The Largo’s “contented days by the
fire” Largo are maybe a tad
perfunctory, yet the performers make up for any small lapses with the swirling
gales of the final movement. Fun stuff.

Drawbacks? Not really. The disc is expensive, to be sure.
And there is no content beyond the four concertos, about forty minutes. Think
of it as quality over quantity for those who can afford it.

Telarc Records originally made the album in Houghton
Chapel, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Massachusetts in 1981. LIM remastered the
recording in 2012 using their UltraHD 32-bit mastering system, a meticulious
method of transferring material from the master tape to disc. The recording
itself is relatively close, providing firm body, strong transient attack, and
plenty of detail. What’s more, the chapel acoustic provides a pleasantly
realistic glow to the music, a bloom that never detracts from the clarity of
the sound; inner detailing, in fact, is now better than ever. More important is
that the sound appears well balanced, with no sign of brightness, forwardness,
edge, boom, softness, or the like to interfere with its lifelike playback.

Although I’m still partial to hearing The Four Seasons performed by a period-instruments band (putting
the recording by the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra at the head of the list),
for a recording on modern instruments (excepting Mr. Silverstein’s violin),
this one is as good as it gets, and you couldn’t ask for better sound.

As always, the folks at LIM do up the packaging in a first-rate
manner, with a hardcover foldout case containing twenty-four pages of text and
pictures bound inside and a stiff paper sleeve for the disc, which is further
enclosed in a static-proof inner liner.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Rimsky-Korsakov: Capriccio Espagnol (SACD review)

Also, Russian Easter Overture, Le Coq d’Or Suite; Borodin: Polovtsian
Dances. Antal Dorati, London Symphony Orchestra and Chorus.  Mercury SACD 475 6194.

Much of the material
here dates from the earliest days of stereo, but because it’s a Mercury Living Presence
recording, you’d hardly know it. Dorati was flourishing making recordings with
the LSO in the mid Fifties and Sixties, and this disc, issued originally on two
separate vinyl albums, one in 1956 and the other in 1959, is no different. The
performances all sparkle, sonically and interpretively.

Things start out
with the Capriccio Espagnol, given a
rousing and characterful treatment by Dorati. It does not eclipse my favorite
recording with Kiril Kondrashin on a remastered JVC, itself an ancient 1958
production, but it comes close, played with great character and verve. The
suite from Le Coq d’Or, however, is
peerless--vibrant, colorful, alive with musical nuance and detail; I loved
every part of it. Following that we find the Russian Easter Overture,
also well done, if sounding to my ears a tad rushed in spots.

The program
concludes with Borodin’s “Polovtsian Dances” from Prince Igor, and if it weren’t for Sir Thomas Beecham’s classic
recording (EMI), Dorati would take top honors. Nevertheless, Dorati
demonstrates plenty of pizzazz, plenty of panache in the music.

Mercury’s sound is
much as we expect from this source, having been recorded with three microphones
across the front of the stage, here reproduced in SACD three-channel or, if you
have only a regular CD player, in two-channel stereo. I admit there is a
certain small degree of boxed-in closeness about the sound, as though Mercury
had applied a tad too much noise reduction to the lower treble, but it doesn’t
interfere with the highest notes, which shimmer and glisten convincingly. Then
there is the lowest bass in the Coq d’Or
that is every bit as deep and impressive as anything made today. If you don’t
already own these particular recordings or the music at all, Mercury’s hybrid
SACD seems a good place to start.

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Audio Physic: 25 Years, Vol. 1 (CD review)

Classical sampler,
various artists. Turtle Records TR75536.

Generally speaking (a phrase the Commander of the
Confederate Army used when addressed), I don’t care much for sampler albums.
Record manufacturers usually use them to promote their product, and audiophiles
often use them to show off their playback equipment. Not that there’s anything
wrong with self-promotion or showing off. It’s just that companies don’t really
intend sampler albums for sustained listening; the companies mean for them to
interest people in full albums of something else and for them to provide a
moment or two of audio excellence to impress listeners sonically. Fair enough.

This particular album comes to us courtesy of the German
loudspeaker company Audio Physic and the Dutch recording company Turtle
Records. Both companies produce high-end audiophile products and are obviously
out to prove the point. The album celebrates the loudspeaker company’s
twenty-fifth year of business, and it contains sixteen tracks taken from the
Turtle Records catalogue of classical music, each track lasting from about
two-to-eight minutes, covering the past two or three hundred years, and
performed by different soloists, small groups, and orchestras. More important,
the tracks actually do sound great, and the performances, no matter how brief,
are uniformly outstanding. So, yes, they are fun to hear, at least once.

I won’t try to cover everything on the program, but I’ll
highlight a few things I found interesting. The music begins with the Second Concerto for Trumpet, second
movement, by Andre Jolivet, performed by Peter Masseurs, trumpet; Frank van der
Laar, piano; and Rob Dirksen, contrabass. It demonstrates a fine sense of space
and air around the performers, a wide frequency range, and excellent transient
attack.

“Wohin” from Schubert’s Die schone Mullerin shows off Christoph Pregardien’s faultless
voice and the dynamics of a modern Steinway-D grand piano. Next, Haydn’s Quintet in D major, second movement,
with the Combattimento Consort Amsterdam provides a good example of how
realistically an engineer can record a small group without stretching them
across the room.

The Renaissance singing of Cappella Pratensis on Pierre de
la Rue’s Gaude Virgo is lovely and
proves you don’t need an over-resonant acoustic for every recording of ancient
vocal music. After that we get a contributions by Anima Eterna, a period band,
under Maestro Jos van Immerseel in a selection by Hugo Distler that not only
sounds beautifully and enthusiastically played but, of course, beautifully and
enthusiastically recorded in clear, clean sonics.

And so it goes. A lute duet is fun because it combines a
lute with gut strings with one using modern nylon strings, and while it’s hard
at first to tell one from the other, the recording sounds so lucid, one soon
notices the differences.

A passage from Mahler’s First Symphony, performed from an original score by the Netherlands
Symphony under Jan Willem de Vriend has an enormous dynamic range. More
important, because the recording engineer had the sense to give it some
distance, it comes across sounding most natural.

I always welcome a little Bach from La Petite Bande, and
then, following that, we have a passage by Locatelli from the Latvian
Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra that sounds about as transparent as anything
I’ve heard and is one of the highlights of the highlights.

After a few more such numbers, the album concludes with
the opening “Battle” segment of Wellington’s
Victory by Beethoven played again by the Netherlands Symphony Orchestra. I
guess Turtle Records were saving the biggest spectacle for last because it is,
indeed, spectacular. Licensed from Challenge Classics, it offers a fine example
of how this often rowdy piece can sound if properly recorded, offering not only
strong impact but a good degree of lifelike stage presence.

Incidentally, the only thing that bothered me about the
album concerned the packaging, which Turtle Records chose to do up with a black
background, making some of the tiny blue text in the booklet and on the cover
and back difficult to read (and in some cases darned near impossible). Really:
Blue on black? Art directors, take note: Give those of us with diminishing
vision a break, please.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP

Elgar: Cello Concerto (CD review)

Also, Sospiri,
Salut d’amour, La capricieuse; Dvorak: Waldesruh’, Rondo; Respighi: Adagio con
variazioni. Sol Gabetta, cello; Mario Venzago, Danish National Symphony
Orchestra. RCA 88697658242.

Sir Edward Elgar
(1857-1934) wrote his Cello Concerto
relatively late in his career, 1919, and because it appeared just after the
devastation of the First World War, much of it sounds rather solemn and
melancholy. Regardless, it quickly became one of the composer’s most-cherished
compositions. Although the 1965 EMI recording by cellist Jacqueline du Pre and
conductor John Barbirolli is still my benchmark in the work, the award-winning
cellist Sol Gabetta puts in a fine performance in this 2012 RCA release with
conductor Mario Venzago and the Danish National Symphony Orchestra.

Interestingly, Ms.
Gabetta was only a few years older than Ms. du Pre when she recorded the work.
Critics in 1965 initially faulted Ms. du Pre for putting too much spirit, too
much energy, into her interpretation, but Sir John, one of the world’s première
Elgarians, defended her saying that such exuberance was necessary; besides,
Elgar himself once remarked that he preferred vigorous readings of his works
because “I am not an austere man.” In any case, in the present recording Ms.
Gabetta walks a clear line between exuberance and somberness; perhaps one could
call it a lively, though gentle, solemnity.

The first and third
movements of the Concerto are
especially noteworthy for their wistful, nostalgic look back at a calmer, more
tranquil world before the Great War, and it is here that no one can accuse Ms.
Gabetta of being too spirited; she is, in fact, quite at peace with the world
in a heartfelt performance that commands one’s respect from start to finish.

The opening Adagio has a big, bold part for the
cello that starts immediately, although it strikes a rather solemn tone, taken
at a grave pace by Ms. Gabetta and Maestro Vengazo. Nevertheless, we also see
from the start that Ms. Gabetta is infusing the work with an appropriately
lyrical melancholy.

The second-movement Scherzo takes up almost immediately but
requires a moment or two to develop. Once underway, Ms. Gabetta provides a
virtuosic display of musicianship as she and her part in the proceedings
playfully banter back and forth with the orchestra. While the movement almost
appears out of place in the context of the rest of the piece, Ms. Gabetta does
her best to integrate it effectively.

The Adagio is the soul of the work, and Ms.
Gabetta delivers a moving rendition of it, reminding us of the seriousness of
Elgar’s intent. Its relationship to the first movement comes through more
obviously than ever.

The finale is the
most exuberant section of the music, yet Ms. Gabetta reminds us, subtly, of
what the piece is all about. It ends on a solidly positive note while still
being contemplative on the whole. Ms. Gabetta never overdramatizes the piece
nor sentimentalizes it. She steers a pretty straight course, keeping the
emotional side of the music well grounded in reality yet still conveying plenty
of emotion. If that sounds contradictory, Elgar meant the work to be as
conflicting as it sounds, part grave, part celebratory. The Great War had been
devastating, but it was over. There were new opportunities on the horizon, new
lives to live, a new world to make. Ms. Gabetta would seem to understand this.

Because the Cello Concerto is a short work, under
half an hour, the folks at Sony generously fill out the disc with a number of
shorter pieces for cello and orchestra of similar tone from Elgar, Dvorak, and
Respighi. Elgar’s Sospiri is touching
in its plaintive longing; the popular, light, and beautiful Salut d’amour seems notwithstanding
tinged with a degree of anxiety; and La
capricieuse sounds sweet and Romantic as Ms. Gabetta dances gently through
it.

The works by Dvorak
and Respighi are equally appealing in Ms. Gabetta’s hands. She maintains a
graceful, casual, flowing, and forceful mood throughout, each piece of music
always complementing the others.

RCA recorded the
album in November of 2009 at the Koncerthuset DR Byen, Copenhagen, Denmark,
with generally pleasing results. Although the sound is fairly close-up, with a
diminished sense of depth and space, it is not at all bright, hard, edgy, or
particularly compartmentalized. It comes across quite smoothly, with a
pleasantly lifelike warmth. The cello appears much closer than the rest of the
orchestra, which is perhaps its only real shortcoming; yet as this is a
concerto, after all, maybe it’s fitting that the soloist get as much as attention
as possible.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:





JJP