Adam: La Filleule des fees, complete ballet (CD review)

Andrew Mogrelia, Queensland Symphony Orchestra. Naxos
8.574302-03 (2-disc set).

By John J. Puccio

Most classical music
fans probably know French composer Adolphe Adam’s (1803-1856) ballet Giselle
(1841) far better than they know his later ballet (1849) La Filleule des
fees (“The Fairies’ Goddaughter”). Why? Is La Filleule really that
much worse than Giselle? Well, as I remarked about a few other works by
Adam, sometimes the public is right. While the listener comes away from Giselle
humming memorable tunes, trying to remember any music at all from La
Filleule might be more difficult. Like most of Adam’s work, La Filleule
is pleasant enough as you’re listening to it but doesn’t exactly inspire one to
return to it too soon.

Be that as it may,
Adam filled La Filleule des fees with charming, comfortable music,
almost all of it lightweight. Like most of Adam’s ballets, this one can be
enjoyed by anyone who appreciates ballet, although I would personally have preferred
a single highlights disc rather than what we have, the complete ballet on two
CDs. This set may be better suited to the completist who must own everything
Adam ever wrote or own every ballet ever written.

The plot of La
Filleule is similar to that of Giselle (and, a little, to that of Sleeping
Beauty), if a bit more involved. It features a beautiful girl who has three
godmothers, two of them good and one of them evil. There’s a handsome prince
involved and fiendish machinations by the villainous godmother, the usual stuff
of fairytales. And as with so many other ballets, it all seems to take forever
to unfold.

Nevertheless,
Maestro Mogrelia is an experienced hand at this sort of thing and treats it
with a deft precision, leading the Queensland Symphony in a congenial 128
minutes or so of music. The story unfolds in a brief prologue and seven
tableaux or scenes. Mogrelia does his best to keep these various set pieces
flowing congruently in some kind of compatible whole. This is especially important
as it’s all dance music and on disc it has to hold together aurally, without
the benefit of dancers and scenery on stage. I just wish there was more
substance to the ballet, more big, lavish pieces to keep our attention. I’m
afraid my mind kept wandering as I listened because after the first twenty
minutes or so it began sounding rather the same to me.

OK, I quibble. The
second tableau (labeled simply “The Countryside”) warms up nicely and contains
some delightful little ditties, which Maestro Mogrelia handles with an easy,
airy touch. The music can be charming, if rather insubstantial. Certainly there
is nothing wrong with light music; everything can’t be Bruckner or Mahler (and
even Mahler is pretty lightweight by some standards). Anyway, Mogrelia keeps
reminding us throughout the ballet that this is dance music, after all, and he
does his best to provide enough contrasts of rhythm and changes of pace to help
us visualize the festivities on stage.

Interestingly, the
tableaux get shorter (perhaps more concise would be a better description) as
the music goes on. The ballet’s first hour contains two tableaux and the second
hour five. Maybe someone had to remind him that at the pace he was going in the
first half, he’d have a five-hour work on his hands unless he got on with it.
Who knows. In any case, the second half picks up a little more steam, and
Mogrelia deals with it accordingly, with a particular effectiveness in the more
dramatic parts. There is no doubt that the conductor’s nimble leadership contributes
much to the overall strengths of the music, and the Queensland Symphony respond
to his direction accordingly well

In short, ballet
fans will probably love this set. Others may find it a tad tedious.

Producer Murray Khoury made the recording at the ABC
Studio, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia in February 1996. Naxos previously
released the set in their premium-priced Marco Polo line and are now issuing it
on their lower-cost Naxos label. The sound is pretty good, though not in the
audiophile category. The frequency extremes--the highest highs and lowest
lows--seem slightly deficient, but they’re adequate for their purpose. The
overall sonic quality is smooth and balanced, with a slightly soft character
that probably benefits the music. Dynamics, dimensionality, and transparency,
too, are adequate. It’s easy listening sound.

JJP

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

Adam: La jolie fille de Gand, complete (CD review)

Andrew Mogrelia, Queensland Symphony Orchestra. Marco Polo 8.223772-73 (2-disc set).

People no doubt know French composer and music critic Adolphe Adam (1803-1856) far better for his classic ballet Giselle (1841) than for the work of this two-disc set, La jolie fille de Gand, written about the same time. So, why is this? Is La jolie that much inferior to Giselle that one of the pieces should continue as a staple of the classical repertoire while the other should fade into obscurity? The answer is simply, yes. Sometimes, the public is right. The listener comes away from Giselle humming memorable tunes. Just trying to remember anything at all from La jolie is a task, even though it is pleasant-enough music as you're listening to it.



This is not to suggest that there is anything unduly wrong with La jolie, however. On the contrary, Adam filled it with charming, agreeable music, almost all of it lighter than air fluff and wholly forgettable. Anyone who enjoys ballet or light classical music, though, will surely enjoy the piece. Still and all, a two-disc set of the complete ballet may endanger one's sugar intake considerably, or it might at least try one's patience. Perhaps it is a ballet better seen than listened to straight through or better taken in small doses, like from a single highlights disc.



The ballet-pantomime La jolie fille de Gand ("The Pretty Girl of Ghent") contains three acts and nine tableaux. With choreography by Ferdinand-Albert Decombe and a libretto by Jules-Henri Vernoy de Saint-Georges and Decombe, the work premiered on June 22, 1842 at the Theatre de l'Academie Royale de Musique, Paris.

Andrew Mogrelia

The story line should give you an idea of how deep the music's going to be. The plot, set in Ghent, Belgium, concerns a dancer named Beatrix, who is betrothed to Benedict, the nephew of a rich goldsmith. She is distracted, however, by the attentions of the Marquis of San Lucar. There follow scenes of conflict with both men, a series of dreams, and an attempted elopement. But, naturally, it all has a happy ending, and the proper girl and boy get to marry. I'm sorry. I tried to follow the plot line but I got bored. I figured I'd enjoy it more by just listening to the music and ignoring the story altogether. I suppose it would be even more appropriate to see it on stage some time, but that would seem almost impossible.



Anyway, Maestro Andrew Mogrelia (who specializes in ballet scores) and the Queensland Symphony Orchestra (of which Mogrelia is now the Music Director and Principal Conductor) do a good job performing all this, and I suspect trying hard not to make it appear as lightweight as it seems. And thanks to the fine Marco Polo recording, the orchestra sounds splendid.



The sonics on this 2000 release are quite good, as I say. I liked the stability of the sound stage and the rock-solid imaging left, right, and center. Front-to-back depth sounds more limited, though, as does the deepest bass and the highest treble. Fortunately, the audio has plenty of mid-bass warmth and room resonance to satisfy fans of concert-hall acoustic ambiance in their recordings. Definition, too, is more than adequate, if not so transparent as some all-out demonstration-class discs, and dynamics are moderately robust.



This is a welcome set for a rainy afternoon with one's feet up on the coffee table. I just wouldn't expect more in the way of musical substance than the score can deliver.



JJP



To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click on the forward arrow:

Great Comedy Overtures (CD review)

Lance Friedel, Royal Scottish National Orchestra. Naxos 8.573418.



The best place to begin a review of an album titled Great Comedy Overtures would probably be with a definition of "comedy." My Random House Unabridged Dictionary defines the term as "a play, movie, etc., of light and humorous character with a happy or cheerful ending; a dramatic work in which the central motif is the triumph over adverse circumstance, resulting in a successful or happy conclusion." Not that there aren't comic operas that are pretty funny, but the emphasis for opera might be on the idea of triumph over adversity, with a successful or happy ending.



Such is the case with the eleven selections in the album under review, selections that include just about every famous comedy overture you can think of, all of them vigorously presented by Maestro Lance Friedel and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. A look at the track titles will give you the idea of the material:



1. Herold: Zampa

2. Nicolai: Die lustigen Weiber von Windsor

3. Wolf-Ferrari: Il segreto di Susanna

4. Thomas: Mignon

5. Reznicek: Donna Diana

6. Flotow: Martha

7. Auber: Fra Diavolo

8. Lortzing: Zar und Zimmermann

9. Cimarosa: Il matrimonio segreto

10. Adam: Si j'etais roi

11. Cornelius: Der Barbier von Bagdad (arr. F. Mottl for orchestra)

Lance Friedel

Maestro Friedel and his Scottish orchestra attack each overture with a commendable enthusiasm. The composers of these pieces meant them, after all, as curtain raisers. They should get our attention, and they do. However, I can't say we really needed another album of overtures, nor can I say that Friedel injects them with as much creative nuance as I've heard. While the music moves right along at a healthy gait, it never seems to catch fire and inspire or thrill one as it might. Nevertheless, these are personal quibbles, and one cannot deny that Friedel and company offer the tunes in a most serviceable fashion.



Favorites? Under Maestro Friedel, Nicolai's Merry Wives of Windsor has a lovely romantic spirit in its opening and a lively bounce in the Allegro section. Wolf-Ferrari's Il segreto di Susanna probably has the most-charming spirit of the bunch. Thomas's Mignon sounds most elegant. Since I grew up with Sergeant Preston of the Yukon, how could I fail to like Reznicek's Donna Dianna? Auber's Fra Diavolo shows plenty of spunk. And there's an appealing lightheartedness about Cimarosa's Il matrimonio segreto.



The total playing time for the disc is nearly eighty minutes (79:44), a most-generous number that approaches the limit of a standard CD.



Producer Tim Handley and engineer Phil Rowlands recorded the album at Henry Wood Hall, Glasgow, Scotland in January 2014. The producers seem to have miked this one for maximum realism rather than any kind of close-up clarity. The result is a little different and does, indeed, sound fairly lifelike. The orchestra shows up at a moderate distance, with lots of hall resonance to give it a properly natural bloom. Although detailing suffers somewhat and the sound appears a bit narrower and more muted than we usually hear from most modern recordings, there is a good depth of field and some strong dynamics involved.



JJP



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

Overtures in Hi-Fi (CD review)

Saint-Saens, Berlioz, Adam, Herold, Reznicek, Suppe, Nicolai, Auber. Albert Wolff, Orchestre de L'Opera-Comique, Paris and Paris Conservatoire Orchestra. Decca Eloquence 480 2385 (2-disc set).



First, the only bad news: Decca made two of these recordings a few years before the widespread use of stereo. Thus, we get a couple of pieces in monaural sound, the rest in stereo. Now, the good news: All of the music sounds extremely good and is worth an audition.



Overtures in Hi-Fi is one of several two-disc sets of older material Decca are releasing on the "Eloquence" label out of Australia. This is a blessing for those of us who enjoy the Decca sound of the Fifties and Sixties and a double blessing at the more-than-reasonable price point we find the album. Now, on to the content.



Although the French maestro Albert Wolff (1884-1970) may not have been one of the most well-known conductors of his generation, he did record a number of basic items from the French repertoire for Decca, thanks largely I suppose to his work with the orchestras represented in this set, the Orchestre de L'Opera-Comique and the Paris Conservatoire Orchestra. The two discs include sixteen items, all of which Wolff presents with an elegant verve and excitement.



The program begins with the overtures to La Princess Jaune ("The Yellow Princess") by Camille Saint-Saens and Benvenuto Cellini by Hector Berlioz, these particular overtures being rather odd choices to start things off because they're both in mono from 1951. You see, nowhere on the front or back covers nor in the booklet itself do the folks at Decca mention the words "mono" or "stereo" at all, so unless the casual buyer looked closely at the fine print to notice that two of the selections came from the very early Fifties, the buyer would have no idea there were any items in monaural at all. Then, to be confronted with the two mono recordings right off the bat might prove a little discouraging. Fortunately, the performances are so animated, their sheer energy alone would probably win over a listener; but, still, it makes one wonder what the Decca producers were thinking. Maybe because they are the only tracks representing Wolff's work with the Orchestre de L'Opera-Comique the producers thought it would be logical to include them chronologically first. I dunno.



From here on, we get the rest of the program in stereo, with overtures to Le Corsaire, Le roi Lear, Le carnaval romain, and Les francs-juges by Berlioz and Si j'etais roi by Adolphe Adam, which brings the first disc to a rousing close. You'll find these Berlioz selections some of the most energetic and spirited versions you'll hear from anyone, with wonderfully judged tempos, rhythms, and dynamic contrasts. The set is almost worth the asking price just for these tracks alone.



Disc two opens with Ferdinand Herold's Zampa, a particular crowd pleaser, which forces the listener again to question why Decca didn't begin the proceedings with it back on disc one. Under Wolff, Zampa has almost too much energy, but that's no doubt what Herold wanted and certainly what audiences expect. Wolff's interpretation of things has all the pompous, aggressive swagger you'd expect of the opera's infamous pirate protagonist.



Next is music I've known from childhood, the overture to Donna Dianna by Emil Nikolaus Reznicek. This is because the old radio and TV program Sergeant Preston of the Yukon used it throughout their shows, and I was an ardent fan. Wolff brings back memories, and I still can't listen to the main tune without thinking of swirling snowdrifts and high adventure. "Well, King, this case is closed."



And so it goes, through Pique Dame by Franz von Suppe; Die Lustigen von Windsor by Otto Nicolai; and Le Domino noir, Masaniello, Le cheval de bronze, Fra diavolo, and Les diamants de la couronne by Daniel-Francois-Esprit Auber. Of these, Fra diavolo stands out for me because of its special confidence and verve. Wolff handles it beautifully.



With 144 minutes of music on the two discs, the set surely counts as a great value, whether you appreciate the occasional mono selections or not.



Decca recorded the music at La Maison de la Mutualite, Paris between 1951 and 1957, using some of their best producers (John Culshaw, Victor Olof, and James Walker) and engineers (Kenneth Wilkinson, James Brown, Roy Wallace, and Ken Cress). Mono or not, the sound is typical early Fifties Decca, meaning it has good body, presence, definition, and dimensionality, made before the company began using 800 microphones for each recording session. There is little or no background noise when listening to these selections at a normal volume level. Turned higher, one notices a small degree of hiss. Highs sound especially well extended, even in the two mono selections. In the stereo numbers, the left-right spread is wide, the bass is powerful, and the imaging is fairly realistic. With strong dynamics and a reasonably clean transient response, the sound comes across as quite lifelike.



JJP



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

Adam: Giselle, highlights (CD review)

Sir Neville
Marriner, Academy of St. Martin in the Fields. Brilliant Classics 94354.

French composer Adophe Adam (1803-1856) premiered Giselle in 1841, and since then it has
been a staple of the Romantic ballet repertoire. And who better to record the
ballet than Sir Neville Marriner and the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields? I
mean, can you really name any recording by Marriner and the Academy that hasn’t
been at least adequate to the occasion and most often a triumph? This reissue
from Brilliant Classics, derived from a 1994 Capriccio recording, is good, even
if it’s not among Marriner’s best work; what’s best is that Brilliant Classics
offer it at a mid price, further discounted to almost half that cost at various
Web sites.

However, if there is any snag in recommending this
Marriner reissue, it’s that it goes head to head with Jean Martinon's 1958
recording, which has been my own first choice in this work for as long as I can
remember. Currently, the folks at HDTT have Martinon’s recording available as
an audiophile remaster, which, I have to admit, is superior in every way to
Marriner’s. But the HDTT disc does cost a few dollars more, so the
budget-conscious buyer might prefer the Marriner release in any case.

Understand, both the Marriner and Martinon recordings are
single discs of highlights. The fact is, people have made many cuts, additions,
and changes to the ballet's working score over the years, and Marriner and
Martinon provide really no more than extended highlights suites. Yet they
suffice nicely, the shorter scores probably best of all for home listening. At
less than an hour, Marriner’s highlights have not only the advantage of
conciseness but of continuity, presenting the work's best and most well-known
music in a seamless medley. For those looking to buy the full score, I would
suggest Fistoulari’s old recording with the LSO (Mercury) and Bonynge’s with
the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden (Decca), both in two-disc sets. They
include almost every bit of music Adam ever wrote for the work, plus additional
material he didn't write. However, in its longer form, much of Giselle can sound like filler, and for
me the complete ballet can quickly wear out its welcome.

Anyway, the story of Giselle
has all the ingredients for great listening: a supernatural, melodramatic plot
involving dead spirits and curses and such; a young hero and heroine in love; a
cruel if not downright evil villainess; and an appropriately rousing yet
sentimental finale. Marriner and the ASMF bring out much of the beauty of this
score, if not quite so sympathetically or so fervently as Martinon and his
French players do.

The fact is, Marriner produces a fairly gentle reading of
the score. If we were watching the ballet live, it would be most graceful and
refined. His rendering certainly doesn’t have the dash or élan, to say nothing
of the excitement, of Martinon’s, so we’re talking about an altogether
different rendition with Marriner, one that exchanges a degree of passion for a
dollop of charm. And charming Marriner is, as always.  His is an elegant, suave interpretation from beginning to end.
Just listen to the Retour des vendangeurs-Valse
to get an idea of how graciously flowing Marriner and the Academy can make this
music sound. Still, he can add an appropriate vigor to the proceedings, too,
when needed, as in The Chase, the Marche des vignerons, and the Variations de loys.

OK, admittedly, Marriner can appear too relaxed, indeed
too languorous, on too many occasions; yet it’s clearly part and parcel of his
easygoing realization of the score, and you can hardly fault him for the
consistency of his approach.

Capriccio Records made the album in 1994 at the Church of
St. Jude on the Hill, London, and Brilliant Classics reissued it in 2012. The
first thing one notices is that the sound has a reasonably wide dynamic range,
a good impact, and a modest sense of depth. Along with an ultrasmooth midrange
clarity and a warm resonance, they go a long way toward producing a pleasantly
natural aura. While bass is unexceptional, the treble extension can impress
one, and in a few instances the sonics can transport a listener to the concert
hall. I don’t believe it’s great sound, but you’ll hear no complaints from me,
either.

JJP

Adam: Giselle, highlights (CD review)

Andrew Mogrelia, Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra. Naxos 8.572924.




Giselle ou Les Wilis, which French composer Adophe Adam (1803-1856) premiered in 1841, has been around as a staple of Romantic ballet music for over a century and a half, and for good reason. The story of Giselle has all the ingredients for great listening: a supernatural, melodramatic plot involving dead spirits and curses and such; a young hero and heroine in love; a cruel if not downright evil villainess; and an appropriately rousing yet sentimental finale. It's hard for any conductor not to be able to bring out the beauty and excitement of the score, and Andrew Morgrelia does it as well as almost anyone in this set of highlights from his complete Naxos recording.



People have made many cuts, additions, and changes to the ballet's working score over the years, so having only the highlights isn't as drastic a situation as you may imagine. In fact, the shorter score is probably best of all for home listening. At about an hour, it has not only the advantage of conciseness but of continuity, presenting the work's best and most well-known music in a seamless medley.  Besides, the highlights fit nicely on a single disc. For those requiring the full score, I can recommend Mogrelia, of course, from which this set derives; plus Fistoulari's old recording with the LSO (Mercury) and Bonynge's with the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden (Decca), all in two-disc sets. They include almost every bit of music Adam wrote for the work and additional material he didn't write, along with every possible repeat. However, I would also add that if it's only the highlights you want and you're willing to pay a little more for the very best, the folks at HDTT have remastered Jean Martinon's 1958 recording with the Paris Conservatoire Orchestre, and it benefits from not only the best performance of the music ever but the best sound as well.



Anyway, back to Mogrelia. His interpretation of the score is graceful and elegant in a smoothly Romantic manner. It's not quite as characterful as Martinon's version or the others, but at least it's close. Let's say Mogrelia's rendition is more genteel than Martinon's, Fistoulari's, or Bonynge's.



Mogrelia and his Slovak players produce a performance that sounds very balletic as opposed to one intended solely for the concert stage. That is, Mogrelia appears to be leading an actual ballet production rather than making a stereo recording. Although there is not too much in his rendering to set the blood to racing, there is a great deal of beauty and lyrical refinement involved. The Slovak Radio Symphony play with a charming ease, even if they are not always as polished as some other big-time orchestras in this work.



Naxos took the highlights for this 2012 disc from Mogrelia's complete set, recorded in the Concert Hall of Slovak Radio, Bratislava, in 1994. The sound is big, warm, round, and sometimes a little thick in a typically Naxos way, with a soft glow occasioned by the resonance of the hall. Moreover, while you also hear a kind of velvety texture to the sonics, which is pleasing and easy on the ear, there isn't a lot of orchestral depth or much dynamic punch involved, except in the first act March and a couple of other places where we find a few good bass thumps. Still, you get a wide soundstage and a feeling of sheer size, even if the midrange is a tad veiled.



JJP

Adam: Giselle (HQCD review)

Jean Martinon, Paris Conservatoire Orchestra. HDTT HQCD202.



Giselle, by French composer Adophe Adam (1803-1856), has been a staple of the Romantic ballet repertoire for almost 170 years (Adam premiered it 1841), and it seems as though Martinon's recording of it has been THE classic interpretation for almost as long. Actually, Martinon recorded his version in 1958, and the recording was around on LP continuously until the disappearance of vinyl. Then it showed up on a budget-priced London-Decca "Weekend Classics" compact disc, which has also been out of the catalogue for some time. But now the recording is available again in this recent CD from HDTT.  More about the sound in a moment.



The story of Giselle has all the ingredients for great listening: a supernatural, melodramatic plot involving dead spirits and curses and such; a young hero and heroine in love; a cruel if not downright evil villainess; and an appropriately rousing yet sentimental finale. No one brought out the beauty or the excitement of this score better than Martinon and his thoroughly sympathetic group of French musicians.



People have made many cuts, additions, and changes to the ballet's working score over the years, and Martinon chose to use for this recording the short, Busser edition. It is really no more than an extended highlights suite, but it suffices nicely. In fact, the shorter score is probably best of all for home listening. At about 47 minutes, it has not only the advantage of conciseness but of continuity, presenting the work's best and most well-known music in a seamless medley.  Besides, it fits nicely on a single compact disc. For those requiring the full score, I can recommend Fistoulari's old recording with the LSO (Mercury) and Bonynge's with the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden (Decca), both in two-disc sets. They include almost every bit of music Adam ever wrote for the work, plus additional material he didn't write, and every possible repeat. However, in its longer form, much of it sounding like filler, the complete Giselle can quickly wear out its welcome.



But not Martinon's performance, which is warm and sweet and sympathetic, and, as I say, has the advantage of presenting the best bits of the score and fitting easily on a single CD. Indeed, the only disadvantage of this HDTT edition is that we lose the couplings found on the "Weekend Classics" disc. For the person only interested in the very best interpretation of the music, though, the loss may be insignificant.



Now, let's turn our attention to the sound.  HDTT (High Definition Tape Transfers) is a small audiophile company specializing mainly in transferring older recordings from commercially available reel-to-reel tapes to high-quality CD-R's. Their focus is to bring back some forgotten classical titles in audiophile sound and also to issue titles that no one has released in a long time.  Fair enough. But imagine my surprise when the Giselle album arrived, and it said on the booklet cover that HDTT had transferred the sound from a vinyl LP! What? A compact disc with audiophile ambitions that simply duplicates the sound of a fifty-year-old long-playing record? The HDTT company admitted that it was an unusual move on their part, but with Giselle they apparently felt the LP offered better sound than the tape. Uh huh. My first impression before listening to the CD was one of skepticism bordering on outright incredulity. It sounded suspiciously to me as if somebody was trying to rip somebody off. Then I gave the disc a spin.



The fact is, when Sony and Philips jointly introduced compact discs in the early Eighties, they promised a new world of sound, with digital bits duplicating every nuance of a master tape.  Never happened. Many of us who had collected large LP record collections over the years were more than a little disappointed that the CD masterings of our favorite LP's didn't usually sound as good as the original LP's did. What many of us were willing to do, though, was put up with very slightly inferior sound for the distractions of the ticks and pops of even the quietest LP's. It seemed a fair trade-off. Then came high-definition CDs, things like XRCD, HDCD, K2HD, Superbit CD, etc., and the playing field started getting more even, with at least a few high-priced CD's beginning to sound as good as their LP counterparts.



In the case of Martinon's Giselle, the London "Weekend Classics" CD had never sounded to my ears as vibrant, as clear, or, most important, as dynamic as the old LP version of it had. Now from HDTT we get what is essentially the old LP on CD. Would it sound as vibrant as the LP had? Yes. As clear? Yes. As dynamic? Yes. But would it be quiet? Amazingly, yes. Within reason. Is it the best sound I've ever heard from a compact disc? No. But it ain't too shabby.



The fact is, the sound of the old Martinon analogue recording has always been every bit as good as that of most new digital releases. Perhaps it loses something in natural tonal balance and depth perception compared to today's very best efforts, but its frequency range, transient impact, breadth, and clarity are still first-rate. On the HDTT disc, tape hiss and surface noise from the LP is minimal, too, and should present no problem except to those shortsighted listeners who still cannot get beyond the letters "DDD" on every record they buy. And either HDTT got hold of the most-pristine LP copy of the music on the face of the planet, or they did a little number on it with their noise-reduction software.



Compared to the "Weekend Classics" CD, the new HDTT transfer packs more punch and adds a little more sparkle. The other comparison I made was to the Fistoulari/Mercury recording made around the same time (1959). Here, I thought the Mercury sound was a touch cleaner and more transparent and the stage depth more pronounced. But, again, the HDTT sonics had the greater impact. And there's just no getting by Martinon's performance.



Anyway, the folks at HDTT sell the Giselle recording in a variety of formats: a compact disc burned on a Gold CD-R; the HQCD (High Quality Compact Disc) reviewed here; a 24bit 96kHz resolution DVD; a regular CD; a 24bit 192kHz resolution Flac download; a 24bit 96kHz resolution Flac download; and several budget-priced variations of the physical disc depending on how much you want to pay for the art work and jewel box. For details you can refer to the HDTT Web site: http://www.highdeftapetransfers.com/storefront.php



The costs of these things seem reasonable when you consider how good they sound (regardless of how you feel about the source) and when you remember that at the moment the HDTT is the only CD version of the Martinon recording available new.



Oh, and for buyers worrying about copyright laws and whether HDTT is infringing on them, the company states on their Web site that they thoroughly research all the material they remaster to be sure it's in the public domain. So, yeah, everything is perfectly legal and aboveboard.



JJP