Adams: Shaker Loops (CD review)

Also, The Wound-Dresser; Short Ride in a Fast Machine. Nathan Gunn,
baritone; Marin Alsop, Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra. Naxos 8.559031.

It’s not hard to
understand why composer John Adams’s (b. 1947) Shaker Loops is one of
this modern composer’s most popular works. As conductor Simon Rattle has
explained, Adams’s music has “always seemed to be moving forward in space, that
I would imagine while listening to it that I was in a light aircraft flying
rather fast, close to the ground.” Very true. Adams’s tunes have a wonderful
forward momentum, and in Shaker Loops, especially, a strong rhythmic
beat.

The present album
contains four works quite different from another, particularly for a composer
best known as a minimalist. The disc begins with a real barnburner, “Short Ride
in a Fast Machine.” Two minutes into this thing and I felt as though I were
back on Northern California’s coastal Highway 1 in my 350Z. It’s very
exhilarating (the music, as well as the Z), Alsop conducting the Bournemouth
Symphony with all stops open. Following this high-octane piece are two downers,
“The Wound-Dresser” and “Berceuse elegiaque,” both slow and rather gloomy
affairs, the former a musical setting for Walt Whitman’s poem of the same name.
Can’t say I enjoyed either work too much, but maybe I was in a bad mood before
I started. If I wasn’t, these two numbers would have assured it.

The main piece of
music on the disc is the four-movement Shaker
Loops from 1978, which has rightly
made Adams famous. “The Loops,” writes Adams, “are small melodic fragments
whose ‘tails,’ so to speak, are tied to their ‘heads,’ creating loops of
repeated melodies....” The “Shaker” part of the title derives from Adams’s
attempt to recreate the feeling of a Shaker religious ceremony as they shake in
religious ecstasy and divine meditation. The final movement has always reminded
me of the film music of Bernard Hermann, something out of Psycho, for instance.

The Naxos engineers
capture all of the shaking and trembling and pulse of the music, much of it percussive,
in one of their very best recordings. They miked the orchestra fairly closely,
producing excellent definition and impact. Indeed, listeners with playback
systems too bright or too hard may not appreciate the immediacy of the
recording, but those with generally well-balanced systems should find the
recording eventful, to say the least.

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





JJP

Elgar: Cello Concerto (CD review)

Also, Smetana:
Selections from Ma Vlast. Zuill Bailey, cello; Krzysztof Urbanski, Indianapolis
Symphony Orchestra. Telarc TEL-34030-02.

Most casual
listeners probably know English composer Sir Edward Elgar (1857-1934) for his Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1 more
than anything he wrote, but his Cello
Concerto comes close. He wrote it toward the end of his career in 1919, and
because he published it just after the close of the Great War, a lot of it
sounds pretty melancholy and solemn. Nevertheless, it has become one of his
most-popular works. Cellist Zuill Bailey, Maestro Krzysztof Urbanski, and the
Indianapolis Symphony do a fine job with it, even though the 1965 EMI recording
with cellist Jacqueline du Pre, conductor John Barbirolli, and the LSO remains
a benchmark in the piece.

Elgar once remarked
that he preferred vigorous readings of his works because “I am not an austere
man.” Zuill apparently takes the composer at his word, producing a robust,
responsive, yet earnest and mature interpretation.

The first movement
of the Concerto offers a pensive,
bittersweet reminiscence of a quieter, more placid world before the War. The
second movement Scherzo seems to
represent the War itself, and the final two movements the War’s aftermath.

The opening Adagio
has a big, bold part for the cello that starts immediately, although it strikes
a rather solemn mood and grave air. Under Bailey this opening is dark-toned,
brawny, and deeply affecting. Although the introduction may be long, slow, and
heavy, Bailey makes it alive and exhilarating. The cellist never becomes morbid
or depressing but projects the flowing, pensive state of a barely suppressed
melancholy. Then, in the Scherzo he
adds an aura of light with a really zippy pace, cavorting here and there with
the orchestra as though a leaf in the wind. Following that, the third-movement Adagio--the soul of the work--seems more
than reflective or contemplative; it seems a full-blown lamentation, most
touching, if a little jarring in its musical juxtaposition with the preceding Scherzo. Nevertheless, as Elgar and
Bailey remind us, war can be more than jarring.

In the finale, Elgar
is all over the place, marking it “Allegro - Moderato - Allegro, ma non
troppo.” Bailey keeps it part grave, part celebratory. The Great War,
devastating in its consequences, was over, and there were new opportunities on
the horizon, a new world shaping up. Things begin in a big, breezy style, which
Bailey handles in big, bold fashion; then it transitions into various guises:
lyrical, energetic, enthusiastic, melodramatic, sad, quiet, and, finally,
exuberant. One could hardly ask for a more expressive rendering than that which
Bailey gives us.

The coupling seems a
bit odd to me, three selections from Ma
Vlast (“My Homeland”), the set of six tone poems by Czech composer Bedrich
Smetana (1824-1884). I suppose the lives of the two composers on the disc did
overlap somewhat, and certainly both the Cello
Concerto and Ma Vlast concern
issues of war and peace. Still, it seems a stretch. Besides, why only three
selections from Smetana’s poem cycle? Why not four? There was room on the disc.
Or, better yet, why not the complete work on a separate disc? Who knows. Maybe the
orchestra only played three movements at the concert from which Telarc produced
the album. I’m sure we should be grateful for what we have.

Whatever, the three
Smetana pieces are “Vysehrad” (The High Castle), “Vltava” (The Moldau), and
“Sarka.” Having heard so many fine recordings of the entire work over the years
from so many fine conductors like Vaclav Neumann (Berlin Classics), Raphael Kubelik
(Supraphon), Antal Dorati (Philips or Newton Classics), Paavo Berglund (EMI),
Libor Pesek (Virgin), Antoni Wit (Naxos), and others, I couldn’t see as much
color in Urbanski’s accounts of the scores. While one cannot seriously fault
Urbanski’s performance, there is not a lot in it that sounds significantly
better than what we already have. Even the currents of the Moldau seem to be
moving too fast and too perfunctorily for us to appreciate them.

Telarc recorded the
music live in concert at the Hilbert Circle Theater, Indianapolis, Indiana, in
2012. They miked it fairly close up, presumably to minimize audience noise, and
in this regard it largely succeeds. There is little commotion from the folks in
the seats. The cello is front and center, as we would expect, maybe a tad too
much so. The orchestra sometimes appears a bit too far behind them rather than
around them. Still, it all sounds quite nice, with a modest degree of depth and
air to the orchestra. I suspect it’s just about the kind of sound the composer
wanted, in any case. It’s a good, solid sound, with plenty of firm control.

Unfortunately, the
Telarc engineers did not edit out the closing applause for each work, so our
concentration gets disrupted at the end of each piece. Alas....

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





JJP

Mozart: Violin Concertos Nos. 1, 2 & 4 (XRCD24 review)

Anne-Sophie Mutter,
violin and conductor; London Philharmonic Orchestra. DG/JVC 480 674-1.

German violinist Anne-Sophie Mutter made her recording
debut in 1978 at the age of fifteen playing Mozart’s Violin Concertos Nos. 3 and 5
with the eminent conductor Herbert von Karajan; one of the world’s great
orchestras, the Berlin Philharmonic; and the prestigious record label Deutsche
Grammophon. Several years later, she recorded Nos. 2 and 4 with
Riccardo Muti and the Philharmonia Orchestra for EMI. It was an auspicious
beginning to her recording career to say the least, and she has never looked
back, now recognized as one of the leading performers in her field. About a
quarter of a century later, in 2003, she recorded all five of the Mozart violin
concertos again, this time with the London Philharmonic, which she also
conducted. The present, 2012 disc presents three of those concertos on a JVC
remastered XRCD24/K2 audiophile disc. 

The disc’s title is actually Mozart: The Violin Concertos (Highlights), but I think the
designation “Highlights” is misleading. It makes it appear as if there are only
portions of the concertos involved when, rest assured, we get three complete
violin concertos. It’s just that originally DG issued the five concertos along
with the Sinfonia concertante in a
two-disc set, so this single-disc audiophile release contains only three items
from that bigger package; thus, the possibly confusing “Highlights” tag.

The two big questions, of course, are whether Ms. Mutter’s
newer interpretations improve upon her early ones and whether JVC’s remastering
is worth the money, both highly subjective judgments. Let’s start with the
performances.

The newer interpretations have plenty of zip and thrust
and a greater rhythmic bounce than the earlier ones. Ms. Mutter entertains
slightly quicker tempos than before, perhaps as a nod to the period-practice
crowd. Still, these are essentially gentle, cultured, mature, and lyrical
readings, never overstepping the bounds of tradition. The older performances seem
a modicum more reserved, more classical in tone. Moreover, the slow movements
in the newer performances are as heartfelt as ever, so there is really nothing
lost, unless it’s the more Romantic, dreamy-eyed sentiment of Muti and Karajan.
If anything, Ms. Mutter is today better able to make her violin cry out in joy
and passion. Her intonation, phrasing, style, and delivery are, as always, spot
on, graceful and articulate.

All I can say about the JVC remaster is that the disc
ain’t cheap, but it sure sounds good. Unfortunately, and here’s the rub, while
I usually have the original discs for side-by-side comparisons, this time I did
not have the regular DG set available. What I did have were Mutter’s old Muti
(EMI) and Karajan (DG) discs, as well as the knowledge that in my prior
experience every XRCD I’ve ever compared to its original counterpart has
sounded better (although in some cases just barely). I have no reason to think
the same isn’t true here.

Sonically, the JVC XRCD24/K2 remaster sounded superior to
the Muti and Karajan in every way but one: The Muti recording seemed a touch
more dimensional. The engineers miked the newer Mutter performances a bit
closer than either the older EMI or DG, thus losing a very little something in
orchestral depth; be that as it may, the closer sound reproduces a truthful air
and space. In every other respect, the JVC product sounded best. The newer
recording is clearer and cleaner for one thing, with a fine sense of presence
and occasion. It also displays a greater dynamic range, a stronger impact, and
a sharper transient attack. In the matter of frequency balance, the JVC is more
neutral, the older recordings a touch brighter and less natural. There is also
in the JVC a realistic bite on the violin sound, yet without any forward edge
or hardness. More important, the JVC remastered sound appears smoother and
firmer than the older sound, more lifelike all around.

In a nutshell, if you like Ms. Mutter’s earlier
interpretations of the concertos, you will no doubt like her newer ones as
well; they may lose a little something in formal classical feel and design, but
they make up for it in joyous spontaneity. In terms of sound, the JVC remaster
is hard to fault; it’s a tad close but sleek and polished, with no hint of
distortion.

Just remember, the JVC disc isn’t for everyone; you can
buy DG’s two-disc set much cheaper than this single disc, and I cannot even
vouch absolutely for the JVC’s sonic superiority; therefore, I could not in all
conscience recommend the remaster without qualification. JVC clearly intend the
product for well-heeled audiophiles. What’s more, you may have trouble finding
it for sale, short of ordering it from Europe or Japan, where it would be more
prohibitively expensive given the shipping costs involved. Nevertheless, if
you’re really intent on pursuing it, several places you can buy JVC XRCD’s in
the U.S. include Elusive Disc (http://www.elusivedisc.com/) and Acoustic Sounds
(http://store.acousticsounds.com/).

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





JJP

Hummel: Piano Concertos, Volume 1 (CD review)

Piano Concertos in
A minor and in G; Introduction & Rondo in F minor. Alessandro Commellato,
fortepiano; Didier Talpain, Solamente Naturali. Brilliant Classics 94338.

Some guys can’t catch a break. Take Johann Nepomuk Hummel
(1778-1837). He’s like the Alex Smith (deposed starting quarterback of the S.F.
49ers) of classical music. Hummel was extremely popular in his day, but it
wasn’t long after his death that his music faded into obscurity. While the Trumpet Concerto and a few of the piano
concertos continue to get some love, it isn’t much. The fellow wrote at the
very end of the Classical Period at a time when listeners were looking toward
composers of the new Romantic Age. Hummel apparently never adapted well enough
to survive, and audiences passed him by. Now, Brilliant Classics are doing
their part in reminding us who Hummel was with this first volume of his music,
all of which they say are premiere recordings on period instruments. Let’s hope
it works out for them.

Let me begin by telling you about the little Piano Concerto in G, Op. 73, even though
the disc places it second on the program. It’s a delight, sounding a lot like
Mozart. In fact, if you didn’t know every Mozart piano concerto by heart, you’d
probably swear it was early Mozart. Played on period instruments by Solamente Naturali (“only natural”) heightens the illusion. Hummel published
the Piano Concerto in G in 1816 but
adapted it from a mandolin concerto he wrote in 1799. Under Maestro Didier
Talpain and pianist Alessandro Commellato (who plays on vintage fortepianos, an
1825 model for the Concerto in G and
an 1837 model for the Concerto in A minor
and the Introduction & Rondo),
the performance is light, bouncy, airy, simple, and direct. It should have a
wide appeal.

The Piano Concerto
in A minor, Op. 85, which opens the program, is one of Hummel’s best-known
concertos; it dates from around 1816, and the composer published it around
1821. Here, we find a full orchestra and many more Romantic leanings. It’s much
closer to Chopin and Liszt than to Mozart. The first movement starts with so
lengthy an introduction that one might ask, Now eventually you do plan to have
a piano in your piano concerto, right? Finally, about four minutes in, the
piano enters. This time, Commellato’s playing, adapting to the tenor of the
piece, is more mature, the Allegro
Moderato appearing remarkably like Chopin’s First Piano Concerto. That’s not surprising, considering that
toward the end of Hummel’s life he became a kind of mentor to the younger
pianist and composer. Commellato also provides a more virtuosic performance
here than in Op. 73, the more-complex music of Op. 85 giving him more
opportunity for dexterous finger work. The fortepiano from 1837 has a slightly
richer, mellower tone than the earlier one, too, reinforcing the lush Romantic
connotations.

The album concludes with the Introduction & Rondo brillant in F minor, Op. 127. Written in
1833, it would be the last of Hummel’s works published in his lifetime. The
mood changes altogether in the opening movement, this one somewhat dark and
heavy. It’s still well within the Romantic genre, yet in a rather somber,
melancholic vein. Then, in the second movement things brighten up considerably,
with Commellato handling both temperaments handily. All three items on the disc
offer dazzling performances, possessing grace and energy and polish aplenty.

Brilliant Classics recorded the music at the Studio of the
Slovak National Radio, Bratislava, Slovakia in 2010. The music they obtained is
a tad close for my liking, but it is wonderfully open and detailed, and the
clarity is often exemplary. Although depth is only middling, the stereo spread
is impressive, the dynamic range is ample, and the impact good. A little more
distance, though, would have provided a more-resonant response, so the sound
goes more in the direction of ultra-transparency than it does for concert-hall
realism. The sound of the fortepianos displays excellent transient lucidity and
sharpness of attack, even if it’s a bit too wide to be entirely lifelike.

To hear a brief excerpt from the Piano Concerto in G, click here:





JJP

Audiophile Reference IV (SACD review)

Various works and artists. FIM SACD029.

There is no doubt
that FIM, First Impression Music, is first and foremost an audiophile label.
Its president and producer, Winston Ma, is a dedicated audiophile for whom
sound is everything. Fortunately, he is also a music lover and recognizes good
music. Therefore, the contents of his discs must not only sound good, they must
be worth an enjoyable listen.

The Audiophile Reference IV disc is a Super
24-Bit hybrid SACD, meaning the folks at FIM have done it up in one of the premier
processing modes around, and because it’s a hybrid disc, you can play it on an
SACD player or on regular CD player. As the album’s title implies, it contains
bits and pieces of audiophile material, much of it taken from FIM’s catalogue
of XRCD material, the kind of stuff that dyed-in-the-wool audiophiles sit
around and listen to when they’re not talking over the top of the music. I’m
not really keen on these kinds of compilations because there is never enough of
any one thing to interest me, but when we get the kind of sonic results heard
here, it’s hard not to want to see what new delights are around the next
corner. Kind of like popcorn; you can’t just eat one.

There are sixteen
tracks on the disc, comprising over seventy-five minutes of music. Selections
include everything from classical to jazz to folk, but thankfully no hard rock
or rap. Among the highlights for me were Saint-Saens’s lovely “The Swan” from
his Carnival of the Animals; a
composite group of tunes and noises on “Olde London”; a traditional Chinese set
of variations called “Yang City”; excerpts from Handel’s Messiah; and Pachelbel’s Canon
in D done by a percussion ensemble. Well, everyone else has done it on
every other kind of instrument, so why not percussion.

The sound in each of
the numbers is outstanding, particularly in terms of timbre and clarity. At
times, I felt that maybe a piece was a bit too forward or too aggressive, but
after a moment’s listening I usually found it sounded, in fact, just right. The
only direct comparison I was able to make was with the live recording “High
Life,” featuring Swedish sax player Arne Domnerus; it’s a selection FIM
remastered from the celebrated Proprius disc Jazz at the Pawnshop. Comparing the FIM version with an original,
first-generation pressing of the Proprius disc, I found the Proprius sounding
maybe a bit brighter, the FIM sounding deeper, smoother, and more naturally
balanced. That they did not sound more alike, though, was probably my biggest
surprise; I hadn’t expected such a difference. In any case, the FIM was mighty
good and sounded remarkably real.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album click here:





JJP

A Glossary of Classical Music Terms

By John J. Puccio



If you’re like me, from time to time you may have to look
up an occasional musical term; thus, with the help of the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, the Harvard Concise Dictionary of Music, and other such reference
works, I’ve compiled this little guide to some of the most commonly used
classical music expressions you might run across, alphabetically arranged.

If you need to refer to the glossary again, you’ll find it
in the left-hand column of every page.

A cappella:
Without orchestral accompaniment.

A piacere: An
indication for a performer to play according to his own pleasure, especially in
regard to tempo and rubato.  

Abbellimenti:
Embellishments; ornamentation.

Absolute music:
Music free of extramusical associations, usually thought of as the opposite of
“program music,” where the music describes something, a scene or a poem. People
sometimes call absolute music “abstract music.”

Accelerando or accelerato:
Faster, or becoming faster.

Accent: An
emphasis on one pitch or chord; a stress or emphasis given to certain notes.

Accompaniment:
The musical background for a principal part.

Adagietto: A
tempo a bit faster than adagio. Also, a brief composition in a slow tempo.

Adagio: Slow,
somewhere between andante and largo. Also, a brief composition in a slow tempo,
especially the second, slow movement of a sonata, symphony, etc.

Affabile:
Gentle; pleasing.

Affettuoso:
Affectionate; tender.

Agitato:
Excited.

Air: A song,
tune, or aria in general. Also, in Baroque suites and later, a movement of a
melodic rather than dancelike character.

Alla: In the
manner of.

Alla breve: A
tempo mark indicating quick duple time.

Allargando:
Slowing down, becoming broader, usually with a corresponding crescendo.

Allegretto:
Moderately fast but not so fast as allegro. Also, a short piece in fast tempo.

Allegro: Fast.
Also, a composition in fast tempo, especially the first or last movement of a
sonata or symphony.

Allemande: A
dance in moderate duple time, first appearing in the 16th century.

Allentando:
Slowing down.

Alto: A female
voice of low range; sometimes called contralto; also, the second-highest part
of a four-part chorus and, applied to the clarinet, flute, saxophone, etc., the
second or third-highest member of the family.

Amabile:
Amiable; with love.

Amore or Amorevole:
With love.

Andante: A
moderate or “walking” tempo, between allegretto and adagio.

Andantino: A
short piece of andante tempo or character; sometimes, also, a tempo very
slightly quicker than andante.

Animo:
Spirited; sometimes written as “con animo” or “animoso.”

Appoggiatura:
An ornamental or embellishing note, usually melodically connected with the main
note that follows it and taking a portion of its time.

Arditamente:
Boldly.

Ardore, con:
With ardor.

Aria: A
composition for solo voice; also, a short instrumental piece of songlike
character.

Arpeggio: The
notes of a chord played one after another instead of simultaneously.

Articulation:
The characteristics of attack and decay of single tones or groups or tones.

Assai: Much, as
in “allegro assai” or quite fast.

Atonality: The
absence of tonality; the absence of key or tonal center.

Attack: The
characteristics of the beginnings of a sound.

Bagatelle: A
short, light piece, usually for piano.

Barcarole: A
boating song of Venetian gondoliers or any song in imitation of the style.

Baritone: The
male voice between bass and tenor; also, when applied to instruments (oboe,
horn, saxophone), any size above the bass.

Baroque: In
music history, the period from approximately 1600 to 1750. In personal history,
the period following a visit to Harrah’s Tahoe Casino.

Bass: The
lowest of men’s voices; also, as applied to instruments, the lowest and usually
largest of any family.

Battaglia: It.,
battle. A composition that features, drum rolls, fanfares, and the general
commotion of battle.

Batterie: The
percussion group of an orchestra.

Bel canto: It.,
beautiful singing. The Italian vocal technique of emphasizing beauty of sound
and brilliance of performance over dramatic or romantic expression.

Berceuse:
Lullaby.

Bitonality: The
simultaneous use of two (sometimes more) different keys in different parts of a
composition.

Bourdon:
Usually, a low note of long duration, like a drone or pedal point.

Bourrée: A
17th-century French dance.

Breve, brevis:
Short. A note value that is brief.

Brio, con; brioso:
With spirit, vigor, or vivacity.

Cantata: A
composite vocal form consisting of a number of movements based on a continuous
text.

Cantabile:
Singable; songlike and flowing in style.

Capriccio: A
humorous or capricious piece of music.

Chanson: Song,
for one or more voices.

Chant: A
general term for liturgical music similar to plainsong. More specifically, the
liturgical music of the Christian churches.

Chorale: A hymn
tune of the German Protestant Church. Also, a choir.

Chord: A
combination of three or more tones sounded simultaneously, two simultaneous
tones usually being designated as an interval.

Chromatic: The
scale that includes all of the twelve pitches contained in an octave.

Classical: All
art music as opposed to popular music. Also, the period of music from about
1770-1830.

Clavier: French
term for keyboard.

Coda: A
concluding section or passage, more or less independent of the basic structure
of a composition, usually to indicate closure or finality.

Con: With.

Concerto: A
composition for orchestra and solo instrument or small group of instruments.

Concerto grosso:
An important type of Baroque concerto, characterized by a small group of solo
instruments against a full orchestra.

Consonance,
dissonance: Subjectively, combinations of pitches that are pleasing or
displeasing.

Continuo: From
Baroque scores on, the bass part, usually performed by the harpsichord or organ
together with a viola da gamba or cello.

Contralto: The
lowest female voice; usually, the same as the alto voice.

Counterpoint:
Music consisting of two or more melodic lines that sound simultaneously.

Crescendo,
decrescendo: Terms for the increasing or decreasing of loudness.

Cyclic:
Compositions in which related thematic material is used in all or some of the
movements.

Diminution: The
repetition or imitation of a subject or theme in notes of shorter duration than
those first used.

Dirge: A vocal
or instrumental composition written for performance at a funeral.

Divertimento:
An instrumental composition in several movements, light and diverting in
character, similar to a serenade.

Dolce: Performed softly, gently, sweetly.

Dynamics: The
aspect of music related to degrees of loudness.

Elegy: A piece
of music with a mournful quality; a lament.

Embellishment:
Ornamentation; auxiliary tone.

Ensemble: A
group of musicians performing together.

Entr’acte: A
usually instrumental piece performed between acts of an opera or play.

Epilogue: A
coda or concluding part.

Espressivo:
Expressive, expressively.

Etude: A
musical composition, usually instrumental, intended mainly for the practice of
some point or technique, sometimes designed purely for study, sometimes also
for public performance.

Exposition: In
sonata form, the first section containing the statement of themes. In a fugue,
the first as well subsequent sections containing the imitative presentation of
the theme.

Expressionism:
The use of distortion, exaggeration, symbolism, and abstraction as means of
emphasizing and conveying a composer’s subjective ideas to a listener.

Extemporization:
Improvisation.

Falsetto: The
male voice above its normal range.

Fanfare: A
short tune, a flourish, for trumpets and the like.

Fantasy:
Fantasia; a composition of fanciful or irregular form or style.

Finale: The
last movement of a musical composition or performance.

Flauto: Flute,
although up until the middle of the 18th century, it used to mean recorder.

Flourish: A
trumpet call or fanfare; a showy or decorative passage.

Forte: Loud.

Fortissimo:
Very loud.

Fugue: A
polyphonic composition based upon one or more themes enunciated by several
voices or parts in turn, subjected to contrapuntal treatment, and gradually
built up into a complex form having somewhat distinct divisions or stages of
development and a marked climax at the end.

Gigue: In
Baroque suites, one of the four standard dance movements, often the final one;
evolved from the Irish or English jig.

Giusto: Just,
right; fitting tempo or strict tempo.

Glee: An
18th-century form of English choral music, unaccompanied, in three or more
parts.

Gregorian chant:
The liturgical chant of the Roman Catholic Church, named after Pope Gregory I
(Pope from 590 to 604), whom tradition says first formulated the repertory.

Gross: Large,
great.

Ground, ground
bass: A short melodic phrase repeated again and again as a bass line, with
varying music for the upper parts.

Harmony: The
characteristic of music consisting of simultaneously sounded pitches or tones
as opposed to simultaneously sounded melodies or lines.

Hymn: A song of
praise, usually to a god or hero.

Idee fixe:
Hector Berlioz’s name for the principal subject of his Symphonie fantastique; a “fixed idea” recurring in all movements of
a musical work.

Impressionism:
A term borrowed from painting in which there is a concern for light and its
perception rather than the symbolic, literary, or emotive value of the thing
perceived; thus, there is an avoidance of traditional musical forms. A
composition suggesting lush harmonies, subtle rhythms, and unusual tonal colors
to evoke moods and impressions.

Impromptu:
Character pieces marked by an offhand or extemporized style.

Improvisation,
extemporization: The art of creating music spontaneously in performance.

Incidental music:
Music used in connection with a play.

Interlude:
Music played between sections of a composition or dramatic work.

Intermezzo: A
light theatrical entertainment introduced between the acts of a play or opera.

Interval: The
distance (in terms of pitch) between two pitches.

Kapellmeister:
Originally an honorable title (chapel master) for the conductor of a small or
private orchestra, band, or chorus; now an old-fashioned provincialism for
conductor.

Key: In a tonal
composition, the main pitch or tonal center to which all of the composition's
pitches are related.

Key signature:
The sharps or flats appearing at the beginning of each staff to indicate the
key of the composition.

Klavier: Piano.

Lament:
Compositions commemorating the death of a famous person; a song used at
funerals or mournful occasions.

Landler: An
Austrian dance in triple meter, very much like a slow waltz; it was popular in
the early 19th century before the waltz came into vogue.

Larghetto:
Somewhat slow; the diminutive of “largo” and, therefore, slightly faster.

Largo: A very
slow tempo.

Lauda: Hymns of
praise or devotion in Italian.

Legato: Played
with no interruption between notes.

Leitmotiv or
Leitmotif: Leading motif. Coined by Wagner to designate certain motifs used
in association with certain characters, ideas, or situations in his music.

Lento: Slow.

Libretto: The
text of an opera or oratorio.

Lied, Lieder:
Song, songs.

Lieto: Joyful.

Litany: A
series of solemn supplications addressed to God or the Saints.

Liturgy: The
authorized service of a Christian church.

Lunga, lungo:
Long or long rest.

Madrigal: The
name for several different types of Italian vocal music.

Maestoso: With
majesty; stately.

Maestro: Master;
an honorary title for a distinguished teacher, composer, or conductor.

Magnum opus: A
great work, esp. the chief work of a writer or artist.

Mass: The most
solemn service of the Roman Catholic church; a musical setting of certain parts
of this service.

Measure: A
group of beats or pulses marked off in musical notation by bar lines.

Melody: Musical
sounds in agreeable succession or arrangement. The succession of single tones
in musical compositions, as distinguished from harmony and rhythm.

Meter: The
rhythmic element as measured by division into parts of equal time value.

Metronome: An
apparatus that sounds regular beats at adjustable speeds, used to indicate an
exact tempo.

Mezzo, mezza:
Half loud, moderately forte.

Minuet: A
French country dance introduced at the court of Louis XIV around 1650.

Moderato: In
moderate speed, i.e., between andante and allegro.

Modulation:
Change of key within a composition.

Molto: Very.

Motet: An
important form of polyphonic music during the Middle Ages and Renaissance,
usually an unaccompanied choral composition based on a Latin sacred text.

Motif, motive:
A short, generally fragmentary rhythmic figure that recurs throughout a
composition.

Moto: Motion;
usually used to indicate a tempo somewhat faster than indicated.

Movement: An
independent division of a musical composition.

Neoclassicism:
A 19th-century trend in music characterized by features of 17th and
18th-century music.

Nocturne: A piece of music appropriate to the night or evening, usually a romantic character piece for piano, with an expressive, dreamy, or pensive melody.

Non troppo: Not
too fast.

Notturno: A
nocturne. Also, a term for a variety of multi-movement works, intended for
performance in the evening.

Obbligato:
Obligatory, in regard to an instrument or part that must not be omitted.

Opera buffa:
Comic opera.

Oratorio: An
extended musical composition with a text more or less dramatic in character and
usually based upon a religious theme, for solo voices, chorus, and orchestra,
and performed without action, costume, or scenery.

Ornamentation:
The practice of embellishing musical works through additions to or variations
of their essential rhythm, melody, or harmony.

Ostinato: A
constantly recurring melodic fragment.

Overture: An
instrumental introduction to an opera, oratorio, or such work.

Paean: A song
of praise.

Partita: An
instrumental suite common chiefly in the 18th century; also, a set of
variations.

Piano, pianissimo:
Very soft. Sometimes ppp and pppp can indicate further degrees of
softness.

Pitch: The
perceived highness or lowness of a sound.



Pizzicato: Played by plucking the strings with the finger instead of using the bow, as on a violin.

Poco, un poco:
Little; a little or somewhat little.

Polka: A lively
dance of Bohemian origin, with music in duple meter.

Polonaise: A
slow, stately, festive dance of Polish origin, in triple meter, consisting
chiefly of a march or promenade.

Prelude:
Originally, a piece of music intended to be played as an introduction; later, a
relatively short, independent instrumental composition, free in form and
resembling an improvisation.



Presto: Very fast; and prestissimo, the greatest possible speed.

Program music:
Music inspired by a program, for instance a nonmusical idea, which is usually
indicated in the title and sometimes described in explanatory remarks or
preface. Thus, program music is the opposite of absolute music.

Psalm: A sacred
song or poem.

Recitative: A
style of vocal music intermediate between speaking and singing. It is used
particularly in opera, where it serves to carry the action from one aria to the
next.

Renaissance music:
Music of the period from about 1450-1600.

Resonance: The
transmission of vibrations from one vibrating body to another; the prolongation
of sound by reflection; reverberation.

Retrograde:
Backward, i.e., beginning with the last note and ending with the first.

Rhapsody: An
instrumental composition irregular in form and suggestive of improvisation; an
ecstatic expression of feeling or enthusiasm; an epic poem, or a part of such a
poem, as a book of the Iliad,
suitable for recitation at one time.

Rhythm: The
pattern of regular or irregular pulses caused in music by the occurrence of
strong and weak melodic and harmonic beats.

Ritardando:
Gradually slowing in speed.

Rococo: A
musical style of the middle 18th century, marked by a generally superficial
elegance and charm and by the use of elaborate ornamentation and stereotyped
devices.

Romance, Romanze:
Slightly different meanings in different countries, but generally short,
lyrical songs, usually with romantic, historical, or legendary subjects.

Romantic,
Romanticism: An important movement in literature and music in the 19th and
early 20th centuries, essentially a reaction against the intellectual formalism
of the Classical tradition, characterized by a call for return to simplicity
and naturalism, subordinating form to content, encouraging freedom of
treatment, emphasizing imagination, emotion, and introspection, and often
celebrating nature, the ordinary person, and freedom of the spirit.

Rondo, rondo form:
A work or movement, often the last movement of a sonata, having one principal
subject that is stated at least three times in the same key and to which return
is made after the introduction of each subordinate theme.

Rubato: An
elastic, flexible tempo, allowing slight accelerandos and ritardandos according
to the needs of musical expression.

Saraband: A
17th and 18th-century dance in slow triple meter and dignified style.

Scherzo: A
movement, usually the third, of sonatas, symphonies, and quartets (rarely
concertos) that Beethoven first used to replace the minuet. The scherzo is
generally characterized by a quick tempo, vigorous rhythm, and elements of surprise.

Segue: An
indication to the performer to proceed to the following movement or section
without a break or to continue in the same manner.

Sentito:
Expressive.

Sempre: Always;
as in “sempre legato,” legato throughout.

Serenade:
Originally, a vocal or instrumental piece performed outdoors in the evening.
Today, it usually applies to lighter multi-movement works for winds or scorings
intended for orchestral performance.

Sinfonia: (1)
Symphony. (2) In the Baroque period a name for orchestral pieces of Italian
origin, designed to serve as an introduction to an opera or operatic scene, an
orchestral suite, or a cantata.

Sinfonietta: A
small symphony, usually scored for a small orchestra.

Sonata: A
composition of usually three or four movements for solo instrument, often with
piano accompaniment. The normal scheme for the movements is allegro, adagio,
scherzo (or minuet), and allegro. A slow introduction sometimes precedes the
opening allegro.

Soprano: The
uppermost part or voice; the highest singing voice in women and boys;    a part for such a voice; a singer with such a
voice.

Sostenuto, sostenedo:
Sustaining the tone to or beyond nominal value and thus sometimes with the
implication of slackening the tempo.

Spirito, spiritoso:
Spirited.

Suite: An
ordered series of instrumental dances, in the same or related keys, often
preceded by a prelude. More commonly, an ordered series of instrumental
movements of any character.

Symphonia:
Usually, the name for various types of early orchestral music that eventually
led to the modern symphony.

Symphonic poem:
A type of 19th-century and later orchestral music based on an extramusical
idea, either poetic or realistic. Also called a tone poem, a form of program
music.

Symphony: A
composition for symphony orchestra in the form of a sonata.

Tempo: The
speed of a composition or section of a composition as indicated by tempo marks
or by the indications of a metronome.

Tenor: the
adult male voice intermediate between the bass and the alto or countertenor; a
part sung by or written for such a voice, esp. the next to the lowest part in
four-part harmony; a singer with such a voice.

Theme: A
musical idea that is the point of departure for a composition.

Timbre: Tone
color.

Time: Used
variously to indicate meter, tempo, or the duration of a given note.

Timpani:
Kettledrums.

Toccata: A
keyboard (organ, harpsichord) composition in free, idiomatic keyboard style.
From about 1600 the name was also used for a festive brass fanfare.

Tonality: A
system of organizing pitch in which a single pitch (or tone, called the tonic)
is made central. A composition organized in this way is said to be in the key
of whatever pitch serves as the tonic.

Tone: A musical
sound of definite pitch; also, the character or quality of a sound.

Tone color: The
quality (“color”) of a pitch as produced on a specific instrument.

Transition:
Commonly, a passage (bridge) that leads from one main section to another.

Transposing
instruments: Instruments for which music is written in a key or octave other
than that of their actual sound.

Tremolo:
Usually, a tremulous or vibrating effect produced on certain instruments and in
the human voice, as to express emotion.

Trill: A
musical ornament consisting of the rapid alternation of a given pitch with the
diatonic second above it; to sing or play with a vibratory or quavering effect.

Triplet: A
group of three notes to be performed in place of two of the same kind.

Troubadour: Any
of a number of 12th and 13th-century poet-musicians of southern France; trouveres
were the northern France equivalents of the troubadours.

Tune: A melody
or air.

Tuning:
Adjusting an instrument to its proper pitch.

Tutti: Italian,
“all.” In orchestral works, an indication for the whole orchestra to play a
passage.

Variation: The
modification or transformation of a musical idea in a way that retains one or
more essential features of the original.

Verismo: The
use of everyday life and actions in artistic works; introduced into opera in
the early 1900’s in reaction to contemporary, idealistic conventions, which
were seen as artificial and untruthful.

Vibrato: A
pulsating effect, produced in singing by the rapid reiteration of emphasis on a
tone, and on bowed instruments by a rapid change of pitch corresponding to the
vocal tremolo.

Virtuoso: A
person who excels in musical technique or execution.

Vivace: Quick;
lively.

Vivacissimo:
Very quick.

Vox: Voice,
sound, tone color; voice-part; note, pitch.

Waltz: A dance
in moderate triple time that originated in the late 18th century as an
outgrowth of the Landler.

Word painting:
The illustration through music of the ideas presented or suggested by the words
of a song or other vocal piece.

Zusammen:
Together, e.g., after a passage in which an instrumental group has been
divided.

JJP

Elgar: Enigma Variations (HDCD review)

Also, Vaughan
Williams: The Wasps; Fantasia on Greensleeves. Michael Stern, Kansas City
Symphony. Reference Recordings RR-129.

It seems a shame that most Americans probably know English
composer Sir Edward Elgar (1857-1934) only for his Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1, and then only because so many
people hear it played during graduation ceremonies across the country. But he
wrote quite a lot of other orchestral material, too: marches, symphonies,
concertos, and the like. This new recording from Reference Recordings gives us
one of his other well-known works, the Enigma
Variations, along with Ralph Vaughan Williams’s The Wasps suite and the Fantasia
on “Greensleeves.” Although one can certainly find a multitude of other
available recordings of these pieces, few of them combine the expert
performances and audiophile sound we find here.

The program begins with The Wasps, subtitled Aristophanic
Suite, by English composer and folklorist Ralph Vaughan Williams
(1872-1958). Yeah, the first thing I did when I heard this music years ago was
look up “Aristophanic.” Seems the word wasn’t as hard as it sounded; it simply
refers to Aristophanes, the ancient Greek satirist who liked to skewer Greek
society. The Wasps was Vaughan
Williams’s first stage work, and it includes a number of traditional British
folk tunes, which Maestro Michael Stern and his Kansas City Symphony play with
high good spirits. It’s fun stuff, especially the overture, which begins with
sounds of a swarm of wasps.

Next, we find the Fantasia
on “Greensleeves,” a coupling by Ralph Greaves of two of Vaughan Williams’s
arrangements of the famous ballad. The “Greensleeves” melody has been around
seemingly forever, a booklet note suggestig that the first mention of it in
print occurred as far back as the sixteenth century. It undoubtedly predates
that time period considerably. Today, listeners probably know Vaughan
Williams’s orchestral arrangements of the tune as well as any version it. Stern
takes his time to get the full measure of the work, yet he never lags or
dawdles. It’s quite beautiful.

The final piece on the disc is the Enigma Variations, Op. 36, by English composer Edward Elgar
(1857-1934). Elgar premiered it in 1899, making it his first big success. He
began these fourteen variations by writing an improvisation and then continued
to toy with it, bringing into the work all kinds of clever, hidden, and
not-so-hidden meanings. Stern plays each of the movements fairly straight,
attempting to make each one of them as entertaining as he can. Perhaps Stern’s
interpretation is not quite in the same exalted league as the classic accounts
by Sir Adrian Boult (EMI) or Sir John Barbirolli (EMI), but it’s a very fine
reading just the same.

Maestro Stern brings out all the color, picturesqueness,
and delight the Enigma Variations have to offer. Moreover,
there is a serious air of mystery around the music. The conductor also seems to
delight in the score’s contrasts, emphasizing the composer’s lyrical charm,
brawny athleticism, and stately, aristocratic grace.

The Reference Recordings team of producers and engineers,
which includes producer David Frost, recording engineer Keith Johnson, and
executive producers Tam Henderson and Marcia Martin, recorded the HDCD at the
Community of Christ Auditorium, Independence, Missouri, in May of 2011. As
always, the folks at Reference Recordings trade off a little something in the
way of ultimate transparency in favor of a more lifelike presentation. You are
very much in the audience for this one, sitting in the auditiorium. They do the
miking at a reasonable distance, not too close, not too far away, capturing a
smooth, warm response, with a pleasant hall resonance. One senses an excellent
depth, air, and dimensionality to the sound, the bass deep and taut, the highs
well extended. Just as important, there’s a wide dynamic range and a strong
impact involved. Indeed, the range is so wide that much of the music may appear
at times too low in volume, encouraging you to turn up the gain, which might
not be the best idea when the loudest passages come around. Anyway, you’ll find
a comfortable setting with a little fiddling of the dials and soon settle in to
a most-realistic listening experience.

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





JJP

Dvorak: Symphony No. 9 “From the New World” (CD review)

Also, Cello
Concerto. Mario Brunello, cello; Antonio Pappano, Orchestra dell'Accademia Nazionale
di Santa Cecilia. EMI Classics 50999 9 14102 2 1 (2-disc set).

This two-disc release from Maestro Antonio Pappano and the
Orchestra dell'Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia features two of Czech
composer Antonin Dvorak’s (1841-1904) most popular works, the “New World” Symphony and the Cello Concerto. It’s always good to hear
them again, even though there is already a boatload of excellent recordings
available, even though the two discs provide short measure on playing time
(about forty-four and forty-two minutes each), and even though the folks at EMI
give us live concert readings of both works.

Disc one contains the Symphony
No. 9 “From the New World,” which Dvorak wrote in 1893 while serving as
director of the New York Conservatory. Many listeners over the years have heard
instances of American idioms in the music, especially African-American
spirituals and Native-American influences, when in fact Dvorak said most of the
music was original, probably inspired more by his native Bohemia than anything
else. Its title, “From the New World,”
only came about because Dvorak happened to be living in New York at the time he
wrote it. While to some degree local tunes may have affected the composer, the
music seems mostly Czech in flavor. At the very least as Leonard Bernstein once
remarked, one might consider it multinational.

Whatever, Pappano, chiefly an operatic conductor, gives us
a big, bold, operatic treatment of the score, with big, broad strokes through a
strong introduction. Then Pappano maintains a steady step through the rest of
the first movement; maybe too steady because it doesn’t seem to have as much
dynamism as it might. It does come to life toward the end, however.

The slow, quiet, second-movement Largo, with its famous cor anglais melody, sounds sweetly flowing
and is one of the highlights of the set. Unfortunately, the rustlings of the
live audience often intrude on the serenity of the scene. A zesty rendering of
the Scherzo comes off well, providing
an appropriate contrast. Finally, Pappano ends the piece in a blaze of glory,
although one continues to have the feeling he’s holding something back, even
when his speeds belie the notion.

So, what we have in Pappano’s Ninth is a nice, easily digestible performance with lyric beauty
and grand gestures. Still, when one considers the competition, it’s hard to see
Pappano’s version standing out in any particular way. Maybe it’s just hard to
make a dent in a list of recommendations that includes Kertesz and the LSO
(Decca), Reiner and the CSO (RCA or RCA/JVC), Dorati and the New Philharmonia
(HDTT), Macal and the LPO (EMI), Neumann and the Czech Philharmonic (Denon),
Kubelik and the Berlin Philharmonic (DG), Alsop and the Baltimore Symphony
(Naxos), and so many more.

Disc two contains the Cello
Concerto in B minor, which Dvorak wrote in 1895, rather late in his career.
Still, it has become one of the most-popular cello concertos of all time, and
there is no mistaking its late Romantic trappings, its abundance of melody, and
its strong emotional involvement.

The pace of Pappano’s reading of the Concerto is even slower here than in the Symphony, the gestures broader. What’s more, solo cellist Mario
Brunello, undoubtedly a virtuoso player, seems often to force the music, as
though he were trying his best to ask us please to listen to him by his
overemphasizing each note and each pause between notes. Again, the competition
in this work is so intense, one can hardly find room for this recording in a
lineup that already includes such notable recordings as those from Starker,
Dorati, and the LSO (Mercury), Gendron, Haitink, and the LPO (HDTT), Wallfisch,
Mackerras, and the LSO (Chandos), Rostropovich, Karajan, and the BPO (DG), Ma,
Masur, and the NYPO (Sony), and the like. 

EMI recorded the two works in live concerts at Sala Santa
Cecilia, Auditorium Parco della Musica, Rome, in 2011 (the Symphony) and 2012 (the Concerto).
The engineers miked it relatively closely, presumably to diminish distracting
audience noise, but there is still some coughing, wheezing, and shuffling of
feet that becomes especially annoying during quieter passages. Worse, the close
miking renders a somewhat flat sonic picture, with good detail and good
separation of instruments but little air or depth. Then, too, there is not a
lot of lower midrange or upper bass warmth, making the sound appear slightly
hard, thin, bright, and forward. So, what we get is more of a movie-theater
sound, despite its being recorded before a live audience.

The bursts of applause after each selection don’t help
much, either, serving only to disturb one’s appreciation for the performances.
I don’t know why record companies feel the need to retain the closing applause
in live recordings; maybe they think it adds to the realism of the occasion,
but, really, we listeners are in our living rooms; we know it’s not a concert
hall. I prefer that record companies simply give us the performance and not the
noise.

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





JJP

Popov: Symphony No. 1 (CD review)

Also, Shostakovich: Theme and Variations. Leon Botstein, London
Symphony Orchestra. Telarc CD-80642.

Here’s another name,
Gavril Popov, that might not be too familiar to all music lovers. He was a
Soviet composer (1904-1972) who never really got much of a chance to show his
stuff in the repressive regime of the 1930’s, 40’s, and 50’s when he was in his
prime. The conductor on this Telarc release, Leon Botstein, in a booklet note
says that Popov’s Symphony No. 1
“fits into the category of great music in the orchestral repertory that
requires advocacy.” In other words, since nobody knows about it, somebody’s got
to speak up for it. Thus, the Telarc recording.

The First Symphony had exactly one
performance, in Leningrad in 1935, and the Soviet musical censors immediately
banned it as being too “formalist,” meaning it didn’t conform to the
government’s ultraconservative musical tastes. Apparently, no one ever
performed it again in Popov’s lifetime, and folks only rediscovered it and
played it again a few years ago. It has still not caught on, much to the
annoyance of Maestro Botstein.

One can understand,
however, why not everyone in the world knows the piece. It’s gloomy as hell.
The Symphony is in three movements,
which the composer described as representing “1) struggle and failure, 2)
humanity, and 3) the energy, will and joy of the victor’s work.” Interestingly,
the three movements get progressively shorter as they go along: The massive,
hectic first movement, an Allegro, is
over twenty-three minutes long; the slow second movement, a Largo, is sixteen minutes; and the quick
third movement, a Scherzo, is nine
minutes. I assume the composer intended for the music to diminish in length by
3-2-1 to reinforce his musical themes, but I’m not entirely sure why.

In any case, the
whole work is full of conflicts and contrasts, which seem to delight Maestro
Botstein. The first movement alone has enough ideas in it to fill three
symphonies, including a slow middle section that comes out of nowhere and leads
to the “failure” indicated by the composer. This first movement begins with a
big bang, goes on through all sorts of gymnastic convulsions, and ends with a
repeated whimper, fading into nothingness. The second movement is so melancholy
it would leave Jack Nicholson’s Joker with a frown. And the third movement
seems actually to be bouncy and, in its odd way, cheerful. I guess that’s what
Popov meant by “joy.”

Accompanying the
Popov First Symphony is as opposite a
piece of music as one could imagine, Dimitri Shostakovich's Theme and Variations, Op. 3 (1922), a
student work that no one ever performed during Shostakovich’s lifetime. It is
very much in the lightweight vein compared to the tumultuous Popov piece, the
Shostakovich smooth, straightforward, and romantic, almost chamber-like in
tone.

The Telarc sound is
every bit as good as their finest recordings: very natural, very dynamic, very
wide ranging, the percussion especially impressive, and the big bass drum
making its presence felt all through the First
Symphony. Everything comes together to make a fascinating if not wholly
satisfying album: the first-rate sound, the obscure First Symphony, and the virtually unknown Variations. Well, it’s different.

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





JJP

Grieg: Peer Gynt, Incidental Music (XRCD24 review)

Sir Thomas Beecham, Beecham Choral Society, with Ilse Hollweg, soprano,
and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Hi-Q Records HIQXRCD2.

It wasn’t too long
ago that I listened to and recommended the low-priced EMI reissue of this
incidental music for Grieg’s Peer Gynt
performed by Sir Thomas Beecham and his Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. The
recording first appeared on LP in the late Fifties, and EMI subsequently
reissued it on LP, cassette tape, and CD over the years. Now we find it in yet
another incarnation in the Hi-Q Records XRCD/K2 series of audiophile discs. The
interpretation oozes the usual Beecham charm, long one of my favorites in this
music, and the sound is obviously better than ever.

No, Beecham does not
give us all of the music Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg (1843-1907) wrote for
Henrik Ibsen’s play, Peer Gynt.
Beecham provides about forty-two minutes’ worth. If you want the complete
incidental music, you’ll have to turn to people like Per Drier on Unicorn or
Neeme Jarvi on DG. Beecham’s extended selections are more like the suites,
which you can find on any number of fine recordings. What Beecham brings to the
table is his characteristic twinkle, lighting up the music with enchantment and
charisma aplenty. And, naturally, the extended selections include Grieg’s
most-famous movements: “Wedding March,” “Ingrid’s Lament,” “In the Hall of the
Mountain King,” “Morning,” “Ase’s Death,” “1st Arabian Dance,” “Solveig’s
Song,” “Anitra’s Dance,” “Return of Peer Gynt” (Storm Scene), and “Wiegenlied”
(“Solveig’s Lullaby”).

What the Hi-Q disc
does not include are Beecham’s recordings of the Symphonic Dance, the overture In
Autumn, and the Old Norwegian
Folksong with Variations, which EMI later added to fill out their reissued
CD. These selections did not appear on the original LP, which is all that Hi-Q
offer. Given the high price of the Hi-Q product, some potential buyers may
understandably be annoyed at the short, forty-one minute playing time; just
think of the disc as offering quality over quantity. If you’re looking for
something less expensive, I’d suggest the EMI Beecham disc, Raymond Leppard’s
Philips recording of the two suites, or Oiven Fjeldstad’s Decca issue of
highlights.

The sound of the
Beecham recording belies its 1957 production date, when EMI made it in Studio
No. 1, Abbey Road, London. Hi-Q have remastered it using JVC’s XRCD24/K2
processing, a technology I’ve described in the past that is meticulous, time
consuming, and costly. It results in the best possible transfer of information
from a master tape to a compact disc, but, as I say, it ain’t cheap.

As always when I
have the opportunity, I put the new audiophile Hi-Q edition in one CD player
and the regular-issue EMI CD in another for instant comparisons, trading out
the discs from time to time to be sure I was listening to the sound of the
discs and not to the sound of the players (although, to be fair, the players
sound practically identical). The first thing I noticed in the comparison was
that the Hi-Q disc sounded slightly smoother, with slightly better definition
and separation of instruments. Next, I noticed that the Hi-Q product was
slightly firmer and clearer overall; it was slightly less veiled, as though
removing a fine layer of gauze from the sonics. I also noticed that the Hi-Q sound
was slightly stronger in dynamic range and transient impact, with slightly
more-extended highs and slightly tauter bass. By contrast, the EMI disc,
already quite good, sounded slightly softer, less forceful, and less
transparent. Be aware of the word “slightly” here; the differences are not
night-and-day.

I noticed a touch of
background noise in both masterings that is the merest shade more pronounced in
the Hi-Q edition. Also, the vocals on the Hi-Q are sometimes a bit brighter,
edgier, and harder-sounding. We might expect the better mastering to display
more greatly any small deficiencies in the original tape, and that’s what
happens. Nevertheless, these are such minor concerns, they are hardly worth
mentioning in so fine an edition.

The Hi-Q packaging,
too, is first-rate. The disc comes housed in a Digipak-type container, with a
cardboard cover and back, bound text and pictures in the center, the CD
fastened to the inside back cover. With its glossy coating and original cover
art, the package couldn’t look better.

Note, however, that
remastered audiophile discs are not for everyone; the differences between the
sound of better masterings and pressings and the equivalent regular releases
are usually so small that most people probably wouldn’t notice them. Remastered
audiophile discs are for well-heeled connoisseurs attempting to squeeze the
last ounce of fidelity from their stereo systems. It’s here that audiophile
remastering companies such as Hi-Q, FIM, JVC, HDTT, and the like fill a need,
providing the best-possible product regardless of price.

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





JJP