Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 5 (SACD review)

Also, Swan Lake
suite. Christian Lindberg, Arctic Philharmonic Orchestra. BIS-2018.

My favorite Tchaikovsky symphony. Not necessarily my
favorite recording of it, but my absolute favorite Tchaikovsky. Oh, there are
parts of the composer’s first three symphonies that are evocative and
descriptive, the final movements of the Fourth
are rousing, and the opening of the Sixth
is achingly beautiful. Yet the Fifth
Symphony charms me all the way through, despite the initially negative
reaction of critics (and Tchaikovsky himself counting it a failure).

Favorite recordings of the Fifth? Of course. I love Maris Jansons and the Oslo Philharmonic
(Chandos) for its combination of delicacy, despondency, and power; Bernard
Haitink and the Concertgebouw Orchestra (Philips) for its sumptuous sound; and
various runners-up like Riccardo Muti and the Philharmonia Orchestra (EMI),
Leopold Stokowski and the New Philharmonia Orchestra (Decca), and Valery
Gergiev and the Vienna Philharmonic (Decca). Then there are others that I
simply admire, and I must now add Christian Lindberg’s new BIS recording with
the Arctic Philharmonic among these “others.” Although I admire Lindberg’s recording,
I don’t love it.

Peter Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) conducted the première of
his Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64
in 1888, the same year he wrote it. A related theme reappears in assorted guise
in all four of the work’s movements, a theme the composer said was "a
complete resignation before fate, which is the same as the inscrutable
predestination of fate." Fortunately, the music is not as dark as the
composer makes it out to be, and before too long the mood shifts. As the piece
goes on, the thematic character becomes more positive, as though Tchaikovsky
were expressing an increased optimism toward fate, the music appearing to
become more optimistic as it goes along. It’s hard to tell, however, whether
Tchaikovsky intended to end the symphony on an entirely affirmative note, and
critics as well as listeners have been arguing the point for years.

Anyway, Lindberg begins by taking Tchaikovsky at his word,
opening with a zippy reading of the Andante--Scherzo:
Allegro con anima. Well, at least the composer indicated taking the Scherzo part with a spirited, animated
fashion. But Lindberg goes it one better by taking the Andante at a faster clip than most conductors, too. I found it a
little disconcerting but only by comparison. On its own, it sounds right and
proper, if a tad less well characterized than I’ve heard it. So Lindberg gives
us a zesty first movement, if a touch too straightforward for my taste, lacking
slightly in dramatic contrast but making up for it in sheer exuberance.

The composer marks the second movement Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza,
meaning a slow, even tempo (a walking pace) taken in a lyrical, songlike
manner, with some freedom. Like the first and third movements, the second opens
very slowly and quietly, which Lindberg handles well. It's somber without being
entirely gloomy and then opens up agreeably to a more-positive tone. While it
perhaps misses some of the overtly Romantic, poignant emotions of my
aforementioned favorites, it comes close, and Lindberg offers a sweet and
tender interpretation.

The third movement is a Valse: Allegro moderato, a waltz that Tchaikovsky meant be taken at
a moderate tempo. Oddly, it is in the concluding two movements that Lindberg
tends to slow down more than many other conductors, at least at the start. In
doing so, he loses some of the dynamism he built up earlier and has to race to
catch up. Nevertheless, by the end of the waltz, he's got things moving at a
stirring pace heading into the Finale.

The Finale
begins with a tempo of Andante maestoso
(a stately, moderately slow section), moves into Allegro Vivace (a brisk, vivacious section), and ends in Moderato Assai e molto maestoso (very
moderate time and very stately). By now, Tchaikovsky has established his theme
through its repetition in all the movements, and Lindberg emphasizes it
powerfully in the opening moments of the final movement. Then the conductor
opens up all guns, and even though he doesn't go full bore as some other
conductors do, he provides enough enthusiasm and the Arctic Philharmonic
respond with enough gusto and bravura to get one’s blood racing. Along with the
excellent BIS audio engineering, this makes for spirited account of the
symphony.

Coupled with the Fifth
Symphony we find a twenty-five-minute selection of items from Swan Lake, a suite originally compiled
in 1900. Here, I found Lindberg much to my taste, his seeming to have a natural
affinity for the rhythmic pulse of ballet. The performance is intense and
colorful.

Producer Ingo Petry and engineer Matthias Spitzbarth recorded
the music for BIS Records at Harstand Kulturhus, Norway in February 2013. It's
one of the best-sounding Tchaikovsky Fifths
you'll find, reproduced in both stereo and multichannel on a hybrid SACD. In
the stereo format to which I listened, the all-important midrange is clear and
well defined yet radiates a soft, warm, ambient glow, well emulating the
concert hall without the distractions of a live audience. When dynamics come
into play, they do so with a fury, the range wide and impactful, the bass taut.
Sometimes one gets the feeling that the miking is a bit too close, especially
on some individual instruments, and then at other times everything seems right
and natural.

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

JJP

Vittorio Grigolo: Ave Maria (CD review)

Vittorio Grigolo,
tenor; Fabio Cerroni, Orchestra Roma Sinfonietta. Sony 88883786372.

Another relatively young Italian operatic tenor I’ve never
heard of. That’s not saying much, though, because I know little about the
current state of Italian opera. In any case, Ave Maria is Vittorio Grigolo’s fourth solo album, most of them
devoted to pop and pop-opera tunes rather than full-length operas. No matter;
audiences seem to love him.

Grigolo grew up in Rome and was singing by the time he was
four. He was nine when he started singing his own version of "Ave
Maria," at which point his father had him audition for the Sistine Chapel
Choir. There, Gigolo become a soloist with the choir, also studying for several
years at the Chapel’s Schola Puerorum. By his early teens he was singing at
Rome's opera house; and at eighteen he joined the Vienna Opera Company, at age
twenty-three becoming the youngest man to perform in Milan's La Scala.

Today, he’s in his mid thirties and a heartthrob the world
over. Or so people tell me. He devotes the current album to various renditions
of the “Hail Mary” theme: four “Ave Maria’s” and an assortment of other Mary
and New Testament tributes: “Maria,
che dolce nome,” “Panis angelicus,” “O celeste verginella,” etc. Grigolo tells
us, “I didn’t want to make an album of sacred pieces just because that’s what
everyone in the classical world does. I want to let people know where I come
from and to share something of my history with them--and to share some music
which many people will never have heard before.” Fair enough.

But how does he fare in this material, especially compared
to the numerous other tenors who have recorded it? That depends. He certainly
has a fine voice, even though he is not so thrilling, so robust, so smooth, nor
so dependable as others in the field. He also has a most-expressive voice,
which might annoy some listeners, since he doesn’t shy away from sometimes
using it in a most-theatrical manner, the inflections wide, the dynamic
contrasts sometimes exaggerated, and the tremolo often evident. While Grigolo’s
style may appeal to a broad audience and endear him to them, judging from what
I listened to here it may just as soon turn off some dedicated opera fans who
would rather he not be quite so obviously sentimental and flamboyant.

I might add, too, that the orchestra that accompanies him
on most of the songs, the Orchestra Roma Sinfonietta, sounds somewhat small and
shallow. In the final number, however, the City of Prague Orchestra plays
behind him, and it sounds fuller, richer, and more impressive. Still, the
smaller Sinfonietta does provide a sweetly transparent sound.

Anyway, Grigolo begins the program with Padre Giovanni
Maria Catena’s “Ave Maria” on which Grigolo's voice soars majestically, and one
can almost feel that he's holding back his true power most of the time in order
to communicate a more intimate tone. It's not bad.

On the next selection, "Fermarono i cieli," he
likewise keeps his voice in check so as not to upstage the children's choir
singing behind him. It's a lovely rendering of the tune, with Grigolo only
occasionally bursting forth full power, which can be a tad disconcerting but no
doubt exciting.

And so it goes. It isn't until the third and fourth
numbers, Campetti's "Maria, che dolce nome" and Franck's "Panis
angelicus," that Grigolo lets his voice soar, and these songs come across
with great force and conviction. From this point on, it's pretty much Grigolo
letting loose the full power and scope of his voice in dynamic contrasts that
can't help make an impression for good or bad, depending on your attitude
toward how a singer should handle these items.

Favorites? Well, they're all lovely, but I did take a
particular fancy to Catena's "O celeste verginella" for the tender
attitude Grigolo expresses in it. Then there's Mozart's "Ave verum
corpus," with Grigolo producing a hushed sensitivity without blowing down
the house. The traditional "Voglio chiamar Maria" sounds good with
its deep organ accompaniment. A final number, Adam's "O Holy Night,"
sung with Jackie Evancho and the City of Prague Orchestra, is quite poignant.
And, of course, it's hard not to appreciate Schubert's "Ave Maria" no
matter who's singing it.

Without question, the album will satisfy Grigolo's fans,
and it may even pick up a few new fans in the process.

Producers Chris Alder and Nick Patrick and engineer Neil
Hutchinson recorded the music in a variety of locations, including Forum Music
Village, Rome; Wathen Hall, London; and Smecky Studio, Prague in 2012-13. As I
mentioned above, the chamber orchestra that accompanies Grigolo on most of the
numbers is fairly small, and thus it produces a fairly transparent sound.
Grigolo’s voice sounds well integrated on most numbers, not too forward but
still front and center. The voice itself sounds well defined, robust when
necessary, and the engineers captured it pretty well. There is a touch of
shrillness occasionally in the highest notes and a bit of edge to the upper
strings, but these things shouldn't be of much concern to most listeners.

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

JJP

Leopold Mozart: Toy Symphony (CD review)

Also, Peasant
Wedding; Musical Sleigh Ride; W.A. Mozart: A Musical Joke. Helmut Koch,
Kammerorchester Berlin; Otmar Suitner, Staatskapelle Dresden. Brilliant Classics
94692.

The younger Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, usually so
overshadowed his father, Leopold, that one hardly remembers that the elder
Mozart also wrote music. Unless, of course, you saw the movie Amadeus, in which case you picture the
older man as a rather stern-faced fellow with little or no sense of humor. Then
we listen to a few of the more-famous works attributed to Leopold, and we have
to reassess his attitude. I say “attributed” to him, by the way, because
Leopold spent some time copying other people’s manuscripts, and he may have
passed off more than a few of them as his own.

First up on the program is the Cassation in G for toys, 2 oboes 2 horns, string and continuo, best
known as the “Toy Symphony,” whose original attribution went to Joseph Haydn
before scholars decided maybe Leopold Mozart wrote it (and even then they
aren’t sure). A cassation, incidentally, is a musical suite similar to a
divertimento or serenade, so not only may Leopold Mozart not have written it,
it really isn’t a symphony, either. None of which matters; it’s a delightful
little piece of music.

Helmut Koch’s way with the piece is graceful and refined,
but in taking such a serious approach he rather misses out on some of the
music’s joy. I have no idea what Koch’s intent was in giving us so cultured an
interpretation. Perhaps he wanted to show people that the work could be more
than simple children’s fare played on toy instruments. Certainly the elegant
playing of the Berlin Chamber Orchestra supports the theory. Perhaps he wanted
to point up the work’s inherent humor by playing it more somberly than usual,
allowing the subtlety of his performance to act as a contrast to the levity of
the instrumentation. Or perhaps he just forgot that the music’s greatest appeal
is in its sense of humor. Compare Paillard (Erato), Marriner (Philips), or
Goodman (on period instruments, Nimbus) and you’ll find they appear to be
having more fun with the piece. So, if you’re thinking of a one and only
recording of the “Toy Symphony,” I couldn’t really recommend Maestro Koch’s
rendering. However, as there are many other recordings available, Koch would
make a fine alternative reading to set off the others.

With Leopold Mozart’s “Peasant Wedding” and Divertimento in F “Musical Sleigh Ride”
Maestro Koch is on firmer ground. Here, Koch seems more exuberant, his style
livelier and filled with greater pleasure than in the “Toy Symphony.” The
conductor seems to understand that a peasant wedding is going to be a jubilant
event, filled with rustic charm, which is how the music comes off. While it's
still a tad more rigid than I would have preferred, it is nevertheless a
pleasing interpretation, with the bagpipes and rattles highlights of the
affair.

In the "Musical Sleigh Ride" we again get a
tasteful rendition, maybe not so energetic or outgoing as I might have liked,
yet there's no questioning the descriptive qualities of the third-movement Allegretto and others with their
whiplashes and harness bells. Koch takes these sections at a moderately
leisurely trot, as he does all of the ensuing movements with their sometimes
incongruous marches, dances, and ornamental flourishes. Everything comes off in
a most dignified manner, if that's how you see the music.

With W.A. Mozart's "A Musical Joke" (also known
as the Sextet in F for Small Town Band),
the son appears to be having a dig at some of his fellow composers for their
clumsy writing. Apparently Mozart meant it as a parody, but the way Otmar
Suitner and members of the Staatskapelle Dresden play it, you could hardly
tell. They seem to suck much of the life out of the piece by presenting it with
such gravity. Again, like Koch, Suitner may have been trying to make the music
all the more amusing by giving it more weight. If so, he failed with this
listener; the music's gawkiness just sounds awkward to me, not funny--not even
its flat, out-of-tune moments. One may find more satisfaction from the
aforementioned Paillard and Marriner as well as from a dozen other recordings.

Brilliant Classics licensed the recordings in 2013 from
Edel Germany, the Leopold Mozart pieces recorded in 1976 and the W.A. Mozart
piece in 1960. They last appeared on disc in 2005 from Berlin Classics, an
album I did not hear to compare, but I can attest to their sounding pretty good
in their current incarnation. The sound in the three Leopold Mozart pieces is
clean and clear, almost ideal for the small-scale works involved. The stage
extends from speaker to speaker with no hole in the middle; moreover, the
midrange is nicely transparent, with a fine recreation of depth, air, and space
around the instruments. The various bird calls show up especially well. These
are, in fact, among the best recordings I've heard of the music. The W.A.
Mozart Musical Joke, recorded a
decade and a half earlier, sounds smooth and warm; it's not quite as
transparent as the later recordings but still quite easy on the ear.

The bottom line for me on this rerelease is that the glass
is only half full: The playing is excellent and the sound is good, but the
performances are so-so. 

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

JJP

Bach: Complete Keyboard Concertos (CD review)

Also, Bach-Vivaldi:
Two concertos. Julia Zilberquit, piano; Saulius Sondeckis, Moscow Virtuosi.
Warner Classics 2564 63686-9 (2-disc set).

First, a word about Bach’s “complete” keyboard concertos.
The “complete” business isn’t quite true, as Bach actually wrote not only the
seven harpsichord concertos we hear on the present set but three more concertos
for two harpsichords, two concertos for three harpsichords, and another
concerto for four harpsichords. Additionally, he wrote miscellaneous other
concertos in which the harpsichord plays a supporting role. All the same, this
Warner set contains the seven Bach concertos for solo harpsichord, which we now
know as the “keyboard” concertos because even though Bach originally wrote them
for harpsichord, performers for years have also been playing them on the organ,
fortepiano, and, as performed here, piano.

Next, a word about the solo artist, Julia Zilberquit, a
Russian-born American who has won acclaim as an orchestral soloist, recitalist,
chamber musician, and recording artist. The New
York Times hailed her as “an outstanding soloist” following a 2012 Carnegie
Hall concert with the American Symphony Orchestra. She has recorded several
albums that have also garnered good reviews and performed worldwide with the
Moscow Virtuosi, among other leading ensembles. She graduated from the Moscow
Gnessin School of Music and Juilliard School and currently lives in New York
with her husband and two children.

Finally, a word about the recording and its record
company. As you know, in 2013 Warner Classics bought EMI Classics and are now
starting to reissue some of EMI’s older recordings. But this isn’t one of them.
The Zilberquit set derives from a recording session in 2001, the discs released
the next year by American Heritage Society. The folks at Warner Classics
reissued the set in 2013 on their own label. Don’t ask.

To complicate things further, the set begins and ends not
with any of Bach’s seven original keyboard concertos but with a pair of works
he transcribed for organ and orchestra from originals for two violins, cello,
and orchestra written by his inspiration in concerto matters, Antonio Vivaldi.
Ms. Zilberquit further arranges the two pieces for keyboard (in this case
piano) and orchestra. In between the Bach-Vivaldi-Zilberquit arrangements, we
get the seven purely Bach keyboard concertos. Almost, except, as I say, that
Ms. Zilberquit plays them on a modern piano, and the accompanying Moscow
Virtuosi perform them on modern instruments. Close enough; it’s still enjoyable
music, well played.

On disc one of this two-disc set you’ll the aforementioned
Bach-Vivaldi Concerto in D minor, BWV
593, for keyboard and chamber orchestra, transcribed by Ms. Zilberquit.
Following that are Bach’s own Concerto in
D minor, BWV 1052; Concerto in E
major, BWV 1053; and Concerto in D
major, BWV 1054. On disc two we find Concerto
in A major, BWV 1055; Concerto in F
minor, BWV 1056; Concerto in F major,
BWV 1057; Concerto in G minor, BWV
1058; closing with the Bach-Vivaldi Concerto
in A minor, BWV 596.

Probably the most popular item in the collection is the
first one, BWV 1052, which Bach may have based on a now-lost violin concerto he
wrote previously. Bach and his contemporaries often reused their own material
and that of others. There were no copyright laws back then, and people
considered imitation a high form of flattery. Note, for instance, that
Shakespeare and his pals a century or more earlier based almost all of their
plays on stories and histories already well known. It was sort of a custom of
the times, whereas today we value originality above all. Anyway, Ms. Zilberquit
approaches BWV 1052, as she does the others, with a dramatic flair that makes
the music perhaps even more serious than it really is. Her manner displays a
robust tension and release and exudes both a thoughtful intent and a feeling of
playfulness at the same time. These are, in fact, qualities she exhibits
throughout the set, and I found them most attractive. All nine concertos
resonant with lively good will and, in the case of the slow middle movements, a
keen sense of poignancy, tranquility, and reflection.

The Moscow Virtuosi under the direction of Maestro Saulius
Sondeckis provide Ms. Zilberquit a precise and sympathetic accompaniment, the
soloist and orchestra sharing almost equally in their musical duties but with
Ms. Zilberquit coming out perhaps a nose ahead. It is her playing, after all,
that you will remember most when you've finished listening, and you'll find it
quite accomplished.

Incidentally, if you recognize much of this keyboard
music, especially BWV 1057, from Bach's Brandenburg
Concertos among other things, remember that he and his friends were fond of
reusing their own material. Waste not, want not, I suppose.

The packaging is a simple fold-over cardboard case with
the discs slipping into the front and back sleeves. Unfortunately, this doesn’t
provide any place for the booklet notes, written by Ms. Zilberquit, except in
one of the sleeves with a disc. This makes getting the notes or the disc a
little difficult to get out without dropping one or the other or scratching the
disc. A minor concern in any case.

Producer Vadim Ivanov and engineer Vitaly Ivanov recorded
the music at The Great Hall of the Moscow Conservatory, Moscow in September
2001. Everything is a little close, yet it's also warm and smooth so it's still
comfortable on the ear. The piano is front and center, of course, but not
really in our face, and when the full ensemble comes in, Ms. Zilberquit sounds
nicely integrated into the group. Depth of field appears moderate, dynamics are
adequate, object definition is a tad soft, and frequency extensions meet the
occasion. It's good, though not audiophile, sound.

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

JJP

Round-Up (UltraHD CD review)

Frankie Laine,
vocals; Erich Kunzel, Cincinnati Pops Orchestra. FIM LIM UHD 062 LE.

Of the approximately 17,586,312.47 recordings Erich Kunzel
made in his lifetime, mostly for the Telarc label, Round-Up, an album of Western music, was among his better efforts.
Maestro Kunzel and his Cincinnati Pops Orchestra present a series of tunes
mostly made famous in Western movies and television, with a few traditional
Western ballads and a supply of Western sound effects (cattle, coyotes, guns)
thrown in for good measure. It’s really quite a lot of fun, especially when
remastered in such exemplary fashion by the folks at LIM (Lasting Impression
Music, a subsidiary of FIM, First Impression Music).

And then there’s the presence to consider of singer
Frankie Laine on the album as well, doing up a few of the songs for which we
knew him so well. When Telarc first released this album I couldn’t help
remembering the time Mel Brooks was looking for somebody “like Frankie Laine”
to sing the title song for Blazing
Saddles, and somebody said, Why not Frankie Laine? Laine answered the call,
not knowing at the time that Brooks’s movie was a parody. Anyway, Laine, famous
in the Forties and Fifties for hits like “Mule Train,” “Cool Water,” “High
Noon,” “Gunfight at the O.K. Corral,” “3:10 to Yuma,” “Rawhide,” and “Blazing
Saddles,” recreates some of them here. He was in his seventies by the time he
did the album but still in pretty good form. After all, his career spanned some
seventy-five years, starting about 1930 and continuing until a final
performance in 2005. I heard him in concert around the time of this album, and
he was still a belter.

Round-Up
contains twenty tracks, starting with a few Western sound effects and segueing
into Rossini’s galop from William Tell
so familiar to fans of The Lone Ranger.
As usual, Kunzl handles the music with competence though not with any
particular vividness. The William Tell
is not a performance for the ages and does not generate the kind of excitement
that, say, Muti, Gamba, Maag, Reiner, or even Norrington do.

But then it's on to more-conventional Western material
with things like The Magnificent Seven,
which fare better. Here, Kunzel seems more at home, and the piece comes off
with great bravado.

Among my favorite items on the program is an all-too-brief
anthology of TV Western themes that includes "Bonanza,"
"Rawhide" (with Laine, naturally), "Wagon Train," and
"The Rifleman."  Another
memorable selection is from How the West
Was Won, in which Kunzel makes the most of the music's epic sweep.

Other notable tracks include a "Hoedown" of
familiar Western dance tunes, the main theme from The Big Country, a suite from The
Furies, and a choral-orchestral medley of "Ti Yi Yippee Ay,"
"Shenandoah," "Red River Valley," "Home on the
Range," and "The Streets of Laredo."

Finally, Laine reprises a couple of his megahits,
"High Noon" and "Gunfight at the OK Corral," always
welcome; and Kunzel does good work with highlights from the underrated Silverado.

Be aware, however, that some of this music takes a moment
to get used to, played as it is by a big symphony orchestra. We may recall most
of these songs done with smaller studio orchestras or in any case much less
weighty accompaniment. But I think anyone already used to Kunzel's way around a
Hollywood tune will find most of delightful. And if some of these simple
melodies sound too overblown for your taste, well, at least I’ve forewarned
you.

Telarc producer and engineer Robert Woods made the album
at Music Hall, Cincinnati, Ohio in September 1986. LIM producer Winston Ma and
engineer Michael Bishop remastered the recording using UltraHD 32-bit
processing in June 2013. The Telarc sound was already pretty good, and the LIM remaster
and transfer take it a step further. In a comparison with the original Telarc
disc, the LIM sonics appear marginally crisper, better defined, with a slightly
greater sense of hall ambience, air, space, resonance, depth, tautness, and
overall transparency. The dynamics seem to have a tad more punch as well, but
that may be because of the aforementioned characteristics. Naturally, there is
a strong, deep bass and a glistening, extended treble.

Incidentally, there are some gunshots on the disc that might
not do your speakers any favors if you play them too loudly. Just saying'.

Of course, all of this audiophile improvement comes at a hefty price, but understand that your money also buys you a handsome, glossy foldout
case, bound notes, and an inner sleeve with a static-proof liner.

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

JJP

Vivaldi: The Four Seasons (XRCD24 review)

Itzhak Perlman, London Philharmonic Orchestra. Hi-Q HIQXRCD25.

Another Four Seasons?
Well, yes, but not exactly. It’s an old favorite EMI recording by violinist and
conductor Itzhak Perlman and the London Philharmonic done up in fancy new
audiophile trappings from the combo of Hi-Q, Resonance Recordings, and JVC. If
you’ve always liked the Perlman performance, it now sounds better than ever.
Although it comes at a price.

Since recordings of
Antonio Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons
appear so regularly, there’s little point in my describing them. There must be
a hundred discs currently available, most of them sounding pretty good, so the
choice is wide open. You probably have your own favorite recording of the
piece, anyway, but in the event you don’t, here is some gratuitous advice from
one who has seen most of the last hundred recordings of the work go through his
living room.

First, be aware that the standard recordings of the four
violin concertos comprising the Four
Seasons fall into three broad categories, depending upon ensemble: chamber
groups using period instruments, chamber groups using modern instruments, and
full orchestras (or pared-down orchestras) using modern instruments. For period
groups (which I tend to favor) I love The Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra (PBO
Records) and La Petite Bande (Sony) for their lively, small-scale
interpretations and transparent sound; and the Drottningholm Baroque Ensemble (BIS)
for their unique style, creative playing, and equally outstanding sound. Other
good period-instruments recordings include the English Concert (DG Archiv),
straightforward, fresh, and closely miked, but well recorded; and Tafelmusik
(Sony), one of the best all-around renditions you’ll find. Among chamber
ensembles using modern instruments, I like Marriner and the Academy of Saint
Martin in the Fields (Decca) for their almost surrealistic approach to the
score; I Musici’s second recording with Roberto Michelucci (Philips) for their
subtlety and grace; and Solisti Italiani (Denon) and Janine Jansen and her
Ensemble (Decca) for their no-nonsense presentations.

Which brings us in a rather long-winded fashion to the
big-scale accounts using modern instruments and the disc under consideration,
Itzhak Perlman’s analogue LPO rendering from the mid Seventies. It is in a
class of its own, and for years I have enjoyed it more than any other
full-orchestral account. Now, understand, when I say full orchestra, I don’t
mean to suggest that the entire London Philharmonic was in on the project. The
booklet insert does not say how many members of the orchestra participated, but
I suspect they reduced the numbers quite a lot, making the sound a touch leaner
than it might have been otherwise. On the other hand, the accompaniment appears
a tad fuller than on any of the chamber recordings, so I’m counting this as a
full-orchestral account.

Perlman is the solo violinist and the conductor in the
performance, and the whole affair is as satisfying today as when I first heard
it over thirty-five years ago. I’ve owned it on LP and on several previous CDs,
and it continues to impress me. The interpretation may not be as vigorous as
some of its smaller-ensemble rivals, but there’s an elegance and serenity about
it that’s hard to resist. It is a smooth, relaxed, unforced, effortless reading
that goes a long way toward negating any criticism of the work.

Perlman shows us he has always been a world-class violist
with his smooth, supremely confident reading. Although this may not be the
most-demanding material ever written for the violin, Perlman handles it with
eloquence, grace, and refinement, all the while maintaining a lively, yet never
hurried pace. His mastery of the violin is remarkable to hear, especially as it
all seems to flow so easily and naturally. Perlman never indulges in
extroverted mannerisms or flashy finger work for its own sake; he simply plays
the music in a thoughtful, caring, and wholly engaging style that is captivating.
Interestingly, it's his execution of the slow middle movements that are the
most-charming parts of the playing and second to none on record.

What’s more, EMI’s analogue audio (recorded in 1976,
digitally remastered in 1987, reissued by EMI in 2010, and remastered by HI-Q
and JVC in 2013) is vintage EMI, among the best you will find in this piece.
Producer Suvi Raj Grubbe and engineer Stuart Eltham recorded the music in May
1976 in Abbey Studio’s celebrated Studio No. 1. Admittedly, there isn’t a lot of
deep bass or extreme sonic impact, but there doesn’t need to be; nor is there
an abundance of depth to the sound stage, but, again, there doesn’t need to be.
The violin appears well integrated into the acoustic field, in front of the
orchestra but not sitting in our laps, and the violin tone is pure and natural.
It’s clean, clear, warm sound that does nothing but contribute to one’s
enjoyment of the music.

In the JVC/Hi-Q remastering and transfer, the sound is
marginally tighter and more transparent than in the regular-issue EMI, with a
more-realistic luster to the strings and a bit more-prominent decay time. The
sound had better be improved, of course, given the higher price involved, yet
there is no doubting the Hi-Q's greater transparency; if you have the right
playback equipment, the differences will be worthwhile. Certainly, a
performance as fluid and praiseworthy as this one deserves the best-possible
sound.

However, this new release does bring up one obvious
comparison: LIM’s remastered Four Seasons
from Joseph Silverstein, Seiji Ozawa, and the Boston Symphony Orchestra,
originally recorded by Telarc in 1981. Both the Hi-Q and LIM discs will give
your pocketbook a workout, and both of them sound better than their equivalent
standard-issue products. The Hi-Q has the marginally smoother, more lively
performance; the LIM has the slightly more dimensional sound. I suppose owning
them both is the best choice, but it’s a costly one. If I had to choose just
one? I dunno. It’s not a choice I have to make. It’s a weaselly answer, I know,
but if you already have a favorite between the two performances, I’d go with
the interpretation I liked best.

Be aware, too, that you can get the same Perlman
performance on the low-cost EMI release I alluded to earlier, along with three
companion pieces--the Violin Concertos
RV 199, 347, and 356--made digitally
a few years later (1982-83) with the Israel Philharmonic. It makes a fine,
bargain issue, but it isn’t up to the audiophile standards of the current Hi-Q.
Nor does it compare to the Hi-Q’s snazzy new packaging, which includes a
glossy, hardcover Digipak-type case with bound notes, the disc fastening to the
inside back cover.

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

JJP

Mahler: Symphony No. 3 (CD review)

Lilli Paasikivi,
mezzo-soprano; Ladies of the London Philharmonic Choir; Tiffin Boys' Choir;
Benjamin Zander, Philharmonia Orchestra. Telarc 3CD-80599 (3-disc set).

This is about as
enjoyable a performance of Mahler’s Third,
his “Nature” symphony, as any I’ve heard in a long time, and the engineers at
Telarc have recorded it as realistically as any around. In a package that
offers three discs for the price of one, it’s a hard deal to beat.

I have to admit,
though, that beyond the first movement here, I don’t find Mahler’s inspiration
as compelling as a lot of other people do. Anyway, the first thing I did after
listening to this massive symphony--all six movements and over 100 minutes of
it, one of Mahler’s longest works--was to compare it to my one of my favorite
interpretations, that of Jascha Horenstein and the London Symphony Orchestra on
Unicorn, recorded some thirty years earlier.

Two things struck
me: One, the older recording still sounded good. Not as good as the new Telarc,
mind you, but well in the ballpark. The Horenstein seemed a tad brighter,
slightly less well detailed, and lighter in the bass. The Zander seemed more
naturally balanced, with slightly greater depth and impact, and, of course,
that famous Telarc low end. But there were times when the top end of the Telarc
appeared jarringly out of place, whereas in the same sections the Unicorn was
smoother. Still and all, I’d go with the Telarc for ultimate sonic realism.

Second, the Zander
reading is nearly the same length as the Horenstein in most of the movements,
yet overall it seems marginally slower and in a few sections blander. I suspect
this is because to my ears Horenstein puts a fraction more intensity into every
phrase and every note. The exception is Zander’s handling of the second
movement, which seems more animated than the rest of the performance. The
result is just that much more involving than with other conductors. The other
exceptions of concern are the huge first movement, which tends to amble along,
and the fourth movement, marked Misterioso,
which Zander takes considerably slower than Horenstein. As a consequence,
Zander’s readings of these sections seem a tad less gripping than they should
be, even though he does add perhaps a touch more atmosphere to things.

Nevertheless, these are minor issues in a rendition that is otherwise well
structured, with a strong command of Mahler’s dynamic and emotional contrasts.
As important, the singing is first-rate and that alone should sell the
interpretation as much as anything else. Otherwise, some listeners may find
Zander’s overall approach subtle and expressive while others may see it as
somewhat deliberate.

The huge first
movement, almost thirty-four minutes long, takes up the first disc; movements
two through six are on the second disc; and Zander’s usual commentary is on the
third disc. I didn’t have time to listen to the entirety of the Zander’s
comments, but as expected in the part I did listen to the conductor is erudite
and informative, and his lecture fascinating to hear. As I say, the whole thing
is a hard bargain to overlook.

To hear a moment from each of the movements, click here:

JJP

The Great Fantasy Adventure Album (UltraHD CD review)

Erich Kunzel,
Cincinnati Pops Orchestra. LIM UHD 069.

Here’s Erich Kunzel (1935-2009) and his Cincinnati Pops
Orchestra doing what they did best, presenting an album of short clips from
famous fantasy and adventure movies. Kunzel sold a ton of this stuff, making
him one of the best-selling conductors of all time. Telarc originally issued
the disc in the early Nineties and the audiophile label LIM (Lasting Impression
Music, a subsidiary of FIM, First Impression Music) remastered and released it
in 2013. For the kind of thing it is, it’s pretty good.

Maestro Kunzel knew exactly what his listeners wanted and
gave it to them, producing over ninety albums of short classical, jazz, and
pop-orchestral material for Telarc Records alone. One wonders how he might have
fared had he applied himself more often to longer classical works, but we have
what we have. In the case of the present album, its presumably tongue-in-cheek
title tells it all: The Great Fantasy
Adventure Album. Well, maybe not quite all because a lot of what audiences
might have considered “great” in 1993-94 we hardly remember today. For
instance, can you even recall much about Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood:  Prince of Thieves,
let alone its theme music? And although I consider myself a fairly
well-informed movie and TV guy, I had trouble placing a short-lived television
show called Wizards and Warriors.
Nevertheless, there are a few choice items on the program that make the project
worthwhile, Kunzel throws himself into the music with enthusiasm (if not always
with the best results), and there’s no denying the fine quality of FIM’s
remastered Telarc sound.

While much of the music is bombastic and, frankly, noisy,
we probably wouldn't want our movie music any other way. The first few things
on the program, for instance, are rather blustery affairs: Miklos Rozsa's El Cid "Fanfare and Entry of the
Nobles," James Horner's Willow,
Lawrence Rosenthal's Clash of the Titans,
and John Williams's main themes for Hook
seem equally inflated. Yet there are truly inspiring moments on the disc as
well, Williams's music for Jurassic Park
being one of the best scores he wrote.

And so it goes through twenty-one selections, a few of
them purely sound effects, like a dinosaur tromping around and cyber technology
("T-Rex," "Jurassic Lunch," "Cybergenesis").
Among my favorite musical items: selections from The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad, Henry
V, The Rocketeer, Beetlejuice, The Princess Bride, The Hunt
for Red October, and The Terminator.

Whether you find yourself attuned to Maestro Kunzel's
handling of the themes is another story, though. He's certainly more than
competent, but inspired? I dunno. Like you, I vividly recall that moment in Jurassic Park when we first saw those
amazing CGI dinosaurs on the big screen, Williams's music soaring in the
background in glorious Dolby Surround. Today, we take such matters for granted,
but back then it was all quite astounding. Maybe it’s the passage of time that
has blunted Kunzel's rendition; it doesn't seem to have the same impact I
remember from Williams's own interpretation.

Telarc producer Robert Woods and audio engineers Jack
Renner and Michael Bishop recorded the album in 1993-94 at Music Hall,
Cincinnati, Ohio, and LIM producer Winston Ma and mastering engineer Michael
Bishop remastered the tapes in 2013. Yes, Mr. Bishop had the chance to do up
his own project utilizing even better mastering methods and equipment and
rereleasing the disc using even better transfer technology. The sound is big
and bold, like the music, so everything works out well. Telarc's famous bass
drum gets an expected workout, and the dynamic range shows off the various
special aural effects pretty well. However, even remastered with meticulous
care using FIM's UltraHD 32-bit "PureFlection" processing, there's a
small degree of upper midrange forwardness I noticed in some tracks, as well as
a small degree of thickness around the middle. Still, it's negligible, and I
don't think anyone will care. Best of all for me was the newly minted high end,
which sparkles, shimmers, and shines.

As always, LIM provide packaging worthy of the product
(and its dear price): a glossy, hard-cardboard, Digipak-type folding case; an
inner sleeve for the disc, with a static-proof liner; and a bound booklet of
notes on the music and its production.

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

JJP

Dvorak: Violin Concerto (CD review)

Also, Romance for
Violin and Orchestra; Mazurek for Violin and Orchestra; Humoresque.  Anne-Sophie Mutter, violin; Manfred Honeck,
Berlin Philharmonic. DG B0019303-02.

Although Dvorak’s Violin
Concerto long ago took its place in the basic classical repertoire, it has
never quite caught on with the public the way those from Bach, Mozart,
Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Paganini, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, and the rest have caught
on. The Dvorak hasn’t quite the soaring lines, memorable melodies, and grand
Romantic gestures we find in other popular concertos. Still, it offers its fair
share of pleasures, and certainly this new recording from violinist Anne-Sophie
Mutter and the Berlin Philharmonic makes the most of them.

Czech composer Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904) wrote his Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in A minor,
Op. 53 in 1879, premiering it in 1883. The famous Hungarian violinist,
conductor, composer and teacher Joseph Joachim inspired Dvorak to write the
piece, and the composer intended for Joachim to play it. As it turned out,
Joachim didn’t much care for the finished work and never did perform it.
Despite the violinist’s skepticism, Dvorak released the piece, and the rest is
history, as they say. I dunno, though. Maybe Joachim had something; the music
has never impressed me as much as the other staple items above have, even in
the capable hands of Ms. Mutter. Indeed, the back cover announces that the
Dvorak is “the last of the great Romantic concertos to enter Ms. Mutter’s
discography,” and I wonder if there isn’t a reason for that.

Anyway, Dvorak begins the concerto with an Allegro ma non troppo (fast, but not too
much), the "ma non troppo" marking used in all three movements. The
violin enters almost immediately, and Ms. Mutter caresses the opening passages
most tenderly, while still imparting a desired grandeur to the music. Joachim
may have felt that the orchestra dominated the score, but Dvorak made some
revisions before premiering it, and certainly in this interpretation, Maestro
Honeck and his Berlin players share the spotlight equally with the violinist,
never overwhelming her. If anything, it is Ms. Mutter's commanding execution of
the music that tends to control the reading. The performance is tender,
lilting, singing, rhapsodic, and a touch melancholic in every phrase.

The slow central movement, the Adagio ma non troppo, is the emotional heart of the work. Again,
Dvorak's marking indicates he didn't want the soloist or orchestra to take
things too slowly, possibly not to make the music too sentimental.
Nevertheless, while Ms. Mutter does tend to stretch it out a bit more than
usual, she never loses sight of the music's emotional grip. Even at a
marginally slower pace than some other violinists have approached it, she is
well able to communicate the movement's pensive yearning.

In the Finale
Dvorak returns to the radiant, dance-like tunes of the opening movement, and
Ms. Mutter shines accordingly. She has a good feel for Dvorak's Bohemian roots,
and her violin skips along merrily. It's a delight, and along with Perlman
(EMI) we must now count it among the best recorded performances of the work
available.

Coupled to the concerto are the Romance for Violin and Orchestra in F minor, Op. 11 and the Mazurek for Violin and Orchestra in E-minor,
Op. 49. The former is a tuneful cantabile, the latter a more carefree folk
dance. In both instances, the soloist and orchestra are at one and execute the
music with precision and joy.

The combination of one of the world's leading violinists
with one of the world's greatest orchestras results in a world-class set of
performances that one can hardly fault. Both Ms. Mutter and the Berlin
Philharmonic play gloriously.

The program concludes with a brief piece for violin and
piano accompaniment, the familiar Humoresque,
Op. 101, No. 7. Ms. Mutter's inflections provide it with a memorable scope,
making it a fitting ending to a noteworthy album.

Producer Arend Prohmann and engineer Stephan Flock
recorded the album at the Philharmonie (Concerto,
Romance, Mazurek) and Meistersaal (Humoresque),
Berlin in June 2013. It's amazing how good an orchestra can sound when it's
freed from the constraints of a live recording. The Berlin Philharmonic is a magnificent
ensemble, but too often producers have felt it necessary to record them live,
with all the consequent shortcomings that technique implies. Here, we get a
big, full, warm sound, slightly close up but not overbearingly so. With an
enormous dynamic range, a strong impact, and a wide frequency response, the
resultant sound is very impressive, rather like being in the sixth or seventh
row of the concert hall itself. The violin also sounds good, with a
most-realistic string tone. It's good to hear the Berliners in all their glory
again, especially when the recording engineer so well integrated the soloist
into the occasion.

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

JJP

Handel: Water Music (SACD review)

Also, Ouverture
from the Occasional Oratorio. Manfred Huss, Haydn Sinfonietta Wien. BIS - 2027.

It seems as though every time a new recording of Handel’s Water Music arrives, it claims to be
more historically accurate than any previous recording. Such is the case with
Manfred Huss’s 2013 release with the Haydn Sinfonietta Wien, a group he founded
and which has been playing on period instruments since 1991.

I’ll let Maestro Huss explain his position as stated in
the booklet notes: “In 2007 a new critical edition of the score of the Water Music appeared, based on the newly
rediscovered, oldest surviving copy of Handel’s autograph. This copy was made
before 1718 and casts new light on many aspects of the piece. It was formerly
believed that the music consisted of three separate suites rather than forming
a single whole. Now, however, it is clear that Handel conceived all 22
movements as a vast single suite for the boat journey in 1717, although with a
different order of movements from what was previously known, producing a work
that is both varied and unified, with a ‘proper’ beginning (Ouverture) and effective conclusion (‘Trumpet Minuet’).” Accordingly, Huss
and the Haydn Sinfonietta perform this new edition, playing the work as a
single piece in twenty-two movements (although done in twenty tracks).

Anyway, as you probably know, the German composer George
Frideric Handel (1685-1759) was living in England when he wrote the music at
the request of King George I, who ordered up music for a festive river party.
In a letter to the King of Prussia, the ambassador Friedrich Bonet described
the occasion in this way: “Along side the King’s barge was that of the
musicians, fifty of them, who played all sorts of instruments, to wit trumpets,
hunting horns, oboes, bassoons, German flutes, French flutes, violins and
basses; but there were no singers. This concert was composed expressly by the
famous Handel, a native of Halle and first composer of the King’s Music. His
Majesty so approved of it that he had it repeated three times, even though it
lasted an hour on each occasion: twice before and once after supper.”

Here’s the thing, though: the contemporary account
indicates that the work lasted about sixty minutes, yet Huss and the Haydn
Sinfonietta zip through it in a little less than fifty-three minutes. That’s
not unusual given today’s propensity for period-instruments ensembles to play
at a pretty heady clip, nor is it anything particularly bad. Indeed, the
relatively zippy tempos make much of the music sound more exhilarating than a
lot of traditional approaches. Still, I think my favored recording by Nicholas
McGegan and the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra (Harmonia Mundi) maintains the
best of all worlds; they also use period instruments but they play at a
slightly more relaxed pace, covering the three conventional suites in about
fifty-seven minutes. And they sound better than anyone else doing it. Besides,
no doubt some people enjoy listening simply to one or two of the three
conventional suites at a single sitting rather than the whole thing.

Then,
there’s the number of players involved: Remember, the contemporary account describes
there being about fifty players in the second boat behind the King’s barge. The
Haydn Sinfonietta Wien uses just over two dozen players, about half the size
originally assigned to the project in Handel’s day. So, Huss may or may not be
entirely as historically accurate as he claims, nor may his tempos be to everyone’s
taste. Nevertheless, he and his band give a good, rousing account of the music,
which should be the main point.

Under Huss, the opening Ouverture, Allegro
displays good zest, followed by the contrasting Adagio e staccato, which evidences an appropriate dignity. Some of
Handel's famous horn fanfares come next, and they, too, sound forth with plenty
of pomp while maintaining the same vitality as the rest of the fast movements.
This is surely a Water Music of regal
proportions, yet done up in energetic style.

Nonetheless, it remains a question, as I say, whether this
particular performance, authentic or not, will appeal equally to everyone. Yes,
it's historically in order and, yes, it's both noble and lively. But is it a
sufficiently different interpretation from the multitude of other recordings
out there to make it an essential buy? Perhaps to the avid collector. As a
first and only choice? That's the issue. No part of the performance struck me
as truly inspired, although individual parts come off well enough. The Air, for example, exhibits a wonderful
bounce; the dances (which comprise most of the suite) an infectiously rhythmic
gait, especially the several Bourrées;
and the Hornpipe a splendid bravado.

However, I have to admit that toward the middle of this
one long suite things begin showing a degree of sameness that is hard to
explain. Certainly it’s not a lack of trying from Huss or his players. Maybe
it’s just too much of a good thing, "too many notes" as the King said
to Mozart in Amadeus. Perhaps it’s
Huss’s pace that began to wear on me. I kept hoping he would vary his step more
often, allow a bit more creativity and imagination to occupy the reading. So
while most of the suite sounds fine, parts of it tend to drone on, even the 'Trumpet Minuet' that closes the show.

Coupled with the Water
Music we find the Ouverture from
the Occasional Oratorio, a brief
piece in three parts, about eight minutes long. It has a appropriately
ceremonial feeling to it and ends in a jubilant mood.

Producer Ingo Petry and sound engineer Fabian Frank
recorded the music at the Auditorium Grafenegg, Grafenegg, Austria in March
2012, and BIS released it on hybrid stereo/multichannel SACD in 2013. I
listened to the two-channel SACD stereo layer using a Sony SACD player. As with
all the BIS products I've heard over the years, this one is nicely accomplished
in terms of clarity, imaging, frequency range, and dynamics. It stands near the
best recordings of the Water Music
I've listened to, if not quite so full, rich, or deep as the aforementioned
McGegan disc for HM.

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

JJP

Mendelssohn: Violin Concerto in D minor (CD review)

Also, music of Panufnik, Takemitsu, and J.S. Bach. Alexander Sitkovesky,
violin; Dmitry Sitkovetsky, New European Strings Chamber Orchestra. EMI 7243 5
57440-2.

I assumed from their
names and from the cover picture that young Russian violinist Alexander
Sitkovesky and Russian conductor and violinist Dmitry Sitkovetsky were father
and son, but nothing that I could find in the booklet notes indicated their
relationship. It turns out, Dmitry is Alexander’s uncle. Be that as it may,
they make a smooth and agreeable team as soloist and conductor and in the Bach
as co-violinists.

Unfortunately, I did
not find their repertoire particularly well suited to my taste. The Mendelssohn
is not the familiar Violin Concerto in
E minor but the D minor Concerto the composer wrote when he was thirteen. Nobody
ever performed it in Mendelssohn’s own day, and it was only in 1952 that Yehudi
Menuhin exhumed and premiered it. Later, Menuhin took the young Alexander
Sitkovesky under his wing, making him one of his protégés so to speak, and I’m
sure it’s no coincidence why Sitkovesky chose the work for inclusion here, no
doubt as a tribute to his mentor. In any case, there are reasons why most of us
have not heard some pieces of music, and while one may find parts of the D-minor Concerto interesting, the jaunty
final movement, for instance, which Sitkovesky plays with much enthusiasm,
overall it does not strike me as among the composer’s strongest works no matter
how well played. And well played it is, as are all the selections on the disc.
Sitkovesky is a most-subtle and expressive performer, and it’s a pity we
haven’t heard more from him.

Of greater interest is
the Violin Concerto of Andrzej
Panufnik (1914-1991), which displays more rhythmic vitality and more
originality than the first work, albeit in an entirely different, more-modern
style. Sitkovesky plays it with a feeling for its bouncy cadences and various
mood swings. Again, the piece seems a tribute to Menuhin, as it was the older
violinist who first performed it in 1972.

Following the
Panufnik is a single-movement work called “Nostalghia” by Japanese composer
Toru Takemitsu (1930-1996). He dedicated it to the memory of Russian film
director Andrei Tarkovsky, and as such he marked it “calm and mournful.”
Emphasize the last word. It is almost funereal and while quite lovely in most
regards, it may put some folks to sleep.

Following this we
find both Sitkoveskys performing Bach’s Concerto
for Two Violins, also at a rather slow pace. Maybe they were in a mood to
demonstrate their serious, contemplative side. Or perhaps after my having
listened to a recording of it by Hillary Hahn on DG just a few weeks earlier
and being mightily impressed, the Sitkoveskys’ rendition was, though
exceedingly smooth and well executed, something of a disappointment.

EMI’s sound is
hardly a disappointment, though. It is extremely natural, ultra-suave, warm,
well balanced, and remarkably lifelike. If there had been more on the disc that
I enjoyed listening to, I would probably recommend it without hesitation. As it
is, I have some hesitations. And maybe the buying public did, too, as I have
not been able to locate another recording by Alexander Sitkovesky since he
released this album almost a decade ago. Which, as I mentioned above, is
unfortunate. He’s quite talented.

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

JJP

Tango Tango (XRCD24 review)

Performed by Viveza. Master Music MSXCD 99310.

Given the number of
movies featuring or about the tango, the documentaries, and the slew of record
albums in recent years devoted to the subject, I think it’s safe to say the
tango is back. Or maybe it was never gone. Moreover, after listening for the
last couple of years to a goodly number of CDs devoted to the material, it is
this album, Tango Tango by Viveza,
originally released by Omega Records in 1998, that I have enjoyed most of all.
So it’s a double pleasure to welcome it back on a 2013 audiophile remastering
from Master Music.

First of all, the
program contains some of the best all-around tango tunes I’ve heard performed,
starting with the most popular tango of them, Jacob Gade’s “Jalousie” and
followed by my own personal favorites, the hauntingly beautiful “Tango in D” by
Isaac Albeniz and the equally enchanting “Por Una Cabeza” by Carlos Gardel
(think Scent of a Woman or the
ending of True Lies with Arnold
Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis dancing to it through the closing credits).

The other dozen or so tangos cover the ground with
representative works from the turn-of-the-century to compositions of more
modern origin, with those aimed at purely commercial success to those by
classical artists; with dances from Europe, Argentina, and America; and, of
course, with pieces by the Grand Master of the tango, Astor Piazzolla, whose
tunes include "Allegro Tangabile," "5 Ano Nacional,"
"Fin de curso," "El Goy," "4. El Boletin," and
"Aplazado." These tangos are not only rhythmic and danceable, they're
appropriately romantic, swaggering, haunting, sensuous, yet nostalgic. In
addition to the numbers I've mentioned, we find Bernardo Stalman's "Viejas
Ideas," Franz Grothe's "Shreib mir einen Brief," Bill Runge's
"Astor," E. Fernandez-Arboz's "Tango," Russell Guyver's
"Un Crimen Pasional," Danny Gould's "Dango's Tango,"
Eduardo Oscar Rovira's "A Evaristo Carriego," and Igor Stravinsky's
"Tango."

As important as the
material is, the small group of Canadian musicians known as Viveza (Spanish for
“lively” or “vivacious”) play the tunes with an understated style that does
them all proud. The ensemble comprises Gwen Thompson, violin, viola, and guiro;
Robert Holliston, guitar and piano; Mark Koenig, violin, viola, and melodeon;
Wilmer Fawcett, double bass and guitar; with special guest artiest Salvador
Ferreras, percussion.

How good are these
musicians? Ms. Thompson began her professional career in 1971 with a dual
appointment as Professor of Violin at the University of Western Ontario and
Concertmaster of Orchestra London. She was head of the String Department of the
Vancouver Academy of Music for twenty-five years, as well as holding a teaching
position at the University of British Columbia. Wilmer Fawcett recently retired
as Principal Bassist with the CBC Vancouver Orchestra and Associate Principal
with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. Robert Holliston is the host of the
Victoria Conservatory of Music's “Brown Bag Lunch” series. Also an active
performer, he is currently Head of Collaborative Piano Studies at the Victoria
Conservatory of Music, where he also teaches piano and music history. Salvador
Ferreras frequents national radio as host and commentator. Mark Koenig passed
away in 2006.

Yes, they are more
than your average band. Their performances are certainly vivacious, but in a
tasteful and restrained way.

Also of importance,
the digital sound is smooth and natural, with the instruments well defined. In
other words, the disc is wholly engaging on all levels. Rick Kilburn recorded
it for XNTRiK Productions at the Western Front, Vancouver, BC in April 1998, and
Master Music Ltd. remastered it in 2013. They transferred the sound from the
master tapes to disc using 24-bit XRCD technology, the SHM-CD utilizing a
polycarbonate resin substrate, and HR cutting. It all adds up to a superb
rendering of the original sound.

Having the original
Omega CD on hand for comparison helped me to determine the worth of the new
Master Music edition. We take for granted these days that audiophile remasters
in general show improvements, to one degree or another, in clarity, definition,
smoothness, dynamics, even frequency range. What the Master Music iteration of Tango Tango also does is improve the
music's dimensionality, its air and space and sense of depth. The instruments
seem more fully separate from one another. Certainly, the added midrange
transparency helps a lot in this regard, as does the extended treble and added
bass tautness. To be sure, these differences are not night-and-day, and except
on direct comparison one might not even notice them. Still, they all contribute
to the recording's sense of realism and, thus, to the listener's enjoyment.

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

JJP

Mozart: Symphony No. 41 (HQCD review)

Also, Haydn:
Symphony No. 88.  Fritz Reiner, Chicago
Symphony Orchestra. HDTT HQCD313.

Among the first conductors I remember liking on LP in the
early Sixties when I started collecting classical music recordings seriously
was Fritz Reiner, who in the early Fifties took over the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra just a year or so before the dawn of the home-stereo revolution. He
only made stereo recordings in Chicago from 1954 until just before his death in
1963, but they remain for me among the best recordings of all time. That’s why
it came as a surprise to find that HDTT (High Definition Tape Transfers) had
transferred to disc two recordings I didn’t even know Reiner had done, let
alone had I heard, Mozart’s Symphony No. 41
and Haydn’s Symphony No. 88.

Of course, not everyone likes Reiner the way I do; he
definitely falls into the special-taste category.  His insistence on strict orchestral discipline and musical
precision results for some listeners in performances that may sound too
sterile, too controlled. Not for me. I’ve always thought he brought out the
best in any score he essayed, giving it a polish and control that allowed the
music itself to bloom more fully. Such is the case with these two recordings.

The more important of the two is the crowning jewel in
Mozart’s symphonic output, Symphony No.
41 in C major, K. 551, “Jupiter,” Mozart’s final and longest symphony,
which he wrote 1788, just three years before he died. Interestingly, scholars
are unsure whether Mozart even got the chance to hear it in his lifetime, yet
it remains one of the glories of the symphonic canon.

Understand, Reiner’s is not an interpretation one might
mistake for a period-instrument or historical approach, except in one regard.
Reiner practically attacks the opening Allegro
vivace, putting the emphasis on the direction "vivace," as in
lively or brisk. This is, indeed, lively and brisk to the point where if the
Chicago players were using period instruments and there were fewer of them, it
would sound like a historical performance at least in matters of tempo.
However, with the full force of the ensemble behind the playing this is clearly
a traditional rendering of the symphony.

And so it goes throughout the work, with Reiner carefully
observing Mozart's notations and making not just a grand statement but a fully
invigorating one, too. Not that all listeners are going to respond to it,
however. The reading hasn't the monumental lines of Klemperer's rendition, the
graceful refinement of Bohm's, the classical energy of Bernstein's, or the
sheer joy of Jochum's. Instead, we get the rigidly direct phrasing for which
people have come to expect from a Reiner interpretation.

Nevertheless, the Largo
still sings beautifully, the Minuet
still dances merrily along, and the Finale
retains all the zest, spirit, and vitality one could ask for, one of the best
on record. Even though this may be a go-for-the-throat reading of the
"Jupiter," it's one of the most-exciting, most-thrilling, and yet
most-moving "Jupiters" you'll find anywhere.

Coupled with the “Jupiter” is Haydn’s Symphony No. 88, written in 1787, a year before Mozart’s
masterpiece. It’s further interesting to note that the older Haydn, one of Mozart’s
inspirations, would continue writing music for close to two decades after
Mozart’s death; yet Mozart clearly surpassed his mentor before his passing.
What could Mozart have accomplished if he hadn’t died so relatively young? One
can only wonder in frustration.

Anyway, Reiner handles the Haydn piece as he did the
Mozart, with an exactitude and authority some listeners, including me to some
degree, might resist. Given that Haydn would eventually produce 104 symphonies,
it's remarkable that he was able to infuse each of them with such originality,
keeping them all quite different from one another. Now, I'm not suggesting I
could possibly tell any of the early symphonies, especially, from one another,
but if you listen to them consecutively as I once did (on Antal Dorati's
complete set), they do sound different from one to the next. So, expect in No. 88 some surprises. Although I have
to admit that Reiner can’t quite match a Beecham or a Jochum for cheerfulness
and charm in a Haydn symphony, I do find Reiner’s slightly more analytical
approach fresh and, in its own way, maybe not entirely satisfying but
affectionate.

RCA producer Richard Mohr and engineer Lewis Layton
recorded both symphonies in Orchestra Hall, Chicago, the Mozart in 1956 and the
Haydn in 1960. HDTT remastered the music from 2-track stereo tapes and burned
it to an HQCD. You’ll remember that in the early days of home stereo it was RCA
and Mercury who were doing some of the best, most-realistic recordings, with
RCA’s team of Mohr and Layton among those in the forefront. That doesn’t mean
everybody likes what they were doing; some people find RCA’s early stereo too
wide, but I’ve never agreed. While they can sometimes have a sort of
hole-in-the-middle effect, at least on some playback systems, these occasions
have been rare in my experience. What I generally hear is wide, true, but
faithfully wide, wide as in what a person might actually hear at a live event
from a moderately close, but not too close, center row distance. That’s the way
the orchestra sounds here.

The sonics are about as good in both symphonies as
anything being recorded today. More important, the sound HDTT reproduces here
is wide in breadth and wide-ranging in frequency response and dynamic range,
perhaps a touch more transparent in the Haydn. It also displays plenty of
orchestral depth, solid bite and impact, and a fine sense of hall ambience. In
other words, it sounds real. What's more, it sounds better than any of RCA's
own remasterings of Reiner's other Chicago performances to which I compared it,
fuller, rounder, and smoother.

For further information on the various formats,
configurations, blank HQCD discs, and prices of HDTT products, you can visit
their Web site at http://www.highdeftapetransfers.com/storefront.php.

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

JJP