Anne Akiko Meyers: Mysterium (EP Review)

 by Karl Nehring

J.S. Bach: Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring (arr. Samuel Adler); Sheep May Safely Graze (arr. Len Rhodes); Wachet Auf, Sleepers Wake (arr. Len Rhodes); Morten Lauridsen: Magnum Mysterium (arr. Gershon/Lauridsen). Anne Akiko Meyers, violin; Los Angeles Master Chorale; Jaebon Hwang, organ; Grant Gershon, conductor. AVIE AV2601

 

I should be clear at the outset that what we have here is not a full CD with an extended program, but rather an EP released in compact disc format but available for a reduced price compared to a standard-length CD. The duration of the program that is recorded on this disc is less than 19 minutes, but a more glorious 19 minutes would be hard to find. Most listeners should be familiar with the three Bach works, and at least some listeners may have encountered the work O Magnum Mysterium by American composer Morten Lauridsen (b. 1943), which has been recorded many times in its original arrangement for chorus. According to the composer, “My first piece as the Los Angeles Master Chorale’s composer-in-residence was O Magnum Mysterium, premiered in 1994. It has become a signature piece for the Chorale, constantly performed throughout the world and recorded on well over a hundred CDs. Anne loved the a capella motet and asked me to provide a new version of it for violin/orchestra or violin/piano, both of which she has superbly recorded. This instrumental score retains the essence of the original choral version plus newly composed violinistic countermelodies to display Anne’s magnificent artistry. Grant’s splendid idea to combine the solo violin part with his sensitive adjustments to the original choral score is heard here in in its premiere recording by the Chorale and Anne, providing a new listening experience for this quiet song of profound inner joy…’ 

 

Conductor Gershon (b. 1960) adds, “It’s especially satisfying to marry the mysticism of Lauridsen’s music with the spirituality of three beloved works from the cantatas of J.S. Bach, also in newly created arrangements. We recorded this music in the glowing acoustics of Frank Gehry’s masterpiece, the Walt Disney Concert Hall, where we were able to utilize the 6,100 pipes of that hall’s iconic organ.” Don’t let his reference to the number of pipes in the organ mislead you: this is not an organ spectacular by any means – in fact, the organ is employed quite tastefully, never calling attention it itself. The arrangements of the Bach pieces manage to combine the sound of the Chorale, accompanied at times by the organ, with the sound of the violin seeming to float gracefully above it. 

 What is especially gratifying about these arrangements is that even though it is Anne Akiko Meyers (b. 1970) who is the featured artist, her violin playing is tastefully integrated into the fabric of the music, not calling attention to itself but rather adding texture and color. Kudos to the arrangers of the Bach selections, Samuel Adler and Len Rhodes, who respect the music of the master, using their arrangements to highlight the beauty inherent in the original rather than to make any radical changes. Likewise with what Lauridsen and Gershon have done with their arrangement of O Magnum Mysterium, working the violin into part into the mix with skill and grace, which is how Ms. Meyers performs it. This is music composed for the contemplation of spiritual matters, not as a vehicle for a violin virtuoso to display their flashy technique. Yes, Mysterium is a release that is less than 19 minutes long, but my goodness, it provides an album’s worth of musical satisfaction.

 

Jason Vieaux: Bach, Volume 2: Works for Violin (CD review)

by Karl Nehring

Partita No. 3 in E Major,
BWV 1006 9 (Lute Suite No. 4); Sonata No. 3 in C Major, BWV 1005; Sonata No.1
in G minor, BWV 1001. Jason Vieaux, guitar. Azica Records ACD-71347

One of the first questions
that springs to mind when encountering a Volume 2 of anything is, “what about
Volume 1?” In the case of this new release from the American guitarist Jason
Vieaux (b. 1973), you won’t have to wait long for the answer, for here is how
he kicks off his liner note essay: “So, ‘Bach Volme 2'… this would indicate there
was some kind of a ‘Volume 1,’ right?... some background is needed for anyone
who cares to read about the genesis of this particular release. Indeed it’s
been well over a decade since the 2009 issue of three lute works of Johann
Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), Bach Vol. 1, Works for Lute, was out on
Azica. The idea Azica and I had back then was that there would eventually be a
Volume 2, which would complete the ‘lute’ set by making a ‘violin’ record that
included BWV 1006, which is both the 3^rd Violin Partita and the 4^th
Lute Suite. Well, ‘eventually’ turned out to be about 13 years, 2 kids, 700
more gigs, and over 8 hours of commercial releases later.”

Although I did wonder a bit myself about Volume 1, having never encountered it, I was already familiar with Vieaux’s playing, having first discovered him on a CD he had released well before Bach Volume 1, his marvelous collection of music by jazz guitarist Pat Metheny, titled Images of Metheny (Azica ACD 71233). That recording from 2005 includes 13 Metheny compositions that Vieaux interprets on classical guitar, including five songs Vieaux arranged into the form of a baroque suite. It’s a real gem of a recording that should appeal to appeal to jazz and classical guitar fans alike, well worth tracking down. Years later, Metheny returned the compliment, dedicating a composition for solo classical guitar titled Four Paths of Light to Vieaux and inviting Vieaux to record it for inclusion on Metheny’s 2021 album Road to the Sun (reviewed here), an album that marked Metheny’s first foray into classical composition.

Jason Vieaux

But back to 2022 (if only briefly – I am writing this review on December 30!) and Volume 2, which, to put it briefly, is an unalloyed delight. It opens with the aforementioned BWV 1006, which served as both a violin partita and a lute suite. (As an aside, when I streamed the album in my car, it showed up on my touchscreen as “Lute Suite,” which brought back a memory from my grad school days, when while working a part-time job as a security guard at a firm that made support equipment for the computer industry, I became acquainted with a charming woman named Clara O’Dette who was in fact the mother of the internationally renowned lutenist Paul O’Dette – but I digress, and no, I never did get to meet Paul, alas.) The music has that infectious energy that Bach can so effortlessly conjure, and Vieaux’s playing communicates the spirit of it in spades. The Sonata No. 3 that follows opens with an Adagio that ushers in a shift in mood that calms the spirit. Vieaux is as effective in these slower passages as he is in the faster passages at maintaining a sense of movement and keeping the music moving with his nimble fingers. Likewise throughout Sonata No. 1, which is in a minor key and which has perhaps a slightly more wistful cast to it, Vieaux draws us deeply into the music. Bach was a true master of communicating so much depth of feeling through such seemingly simple means, while Vieaux is a true master of his chosen instrument of expression, the classical guitar. His playing is clean, straightforward, but powerful.

Unusually enough, I actually heard this recording through both my previous and current pair of loudspeakers. Most of my listening was done in my own system (for a more complete description, please see my brief biographical sketch below) to the CD through my new pair of Legacy Audio Focus SE loudspeakers, which I purchased in October, 2022. However, I was recently able to listen to a high-resolution streamed version of the album in the system of a friend to whom I had sold my previous pair of Focus SEs. The sound was great in both locations, but slightly more, uh, focused in my listening room, a function not so much of the newer speakers themselves but rather of speaker and seating placement. Not to worry, this is a well-engineered release that should delight lovers of Bach’s music, of whom I am more than confident that there plenty of you out there. Enjoy!

Víkingur Ólafsson: From Afar (CD review)

Bach: Christe, du Lamm Gottes, BWV 619 (Arr. G. Kurtág); Schumann: Study in Canonic Form, Op. 56 No. 1; Bach: Adagio from Sonata for Solo Violin in C major (Arr. Víkingur Ólafsson); Kurtág: Harmonica (Hommage á Borsody László) (From Játékok / Book 3); Bartók: Three Hungarian Folksongs from Csìk; Brahms: Intermezzo Op. 116, No. 4; Kurtág: A Voice in the Distance (From   / Book 5); Birgisson: Where Life and Death May Dwell (Icelandic Folk Song); Bach: Trio Sonata No. 1, BWV 525: 1. Allegro moderato (arr. G. Kurtág); Kaldalóns: Ave María (Arr. Víkingur Ólafsson); Kurtág: Little Chorale (From Játékok / Book 1); Mozart: Laudate Dominum (Arr. Víkingur Ólafsson); Kurtág: Sleepily (From Játékok / Book 1); Schumann: Träumerei Op. 15, No. 7; Kurtág: Flowers We Are (From Játékok / Book 7); Adès: The Branch (Az Ág); Kurtág: Twittering (From Játékok / Book 1); Schumann: Vogel als Prophet Op. 82, No. 7; Brahms: Intermezzo Op. 116, No. 5; Kurtág: Scraps of a Colinda Melody – Faintly Recollected (Hommage à Farkas Ferenc) (From Játékok / Book 3). Víkingur Ólafsson, grand piano, CD1; upright piano, CD2. Deutsche Grammophon 486 1681.

By Karl W. Nehring

Having enjoyed and reviewed some previous albums by Víkingur Ólafsson (b.1984) in which he played music by Bach, Philip Glass, Debussy, and Rameau, all of which were really first-class releases in every way, I fully expected this new release by the young Icelandic pianist to be a good one; however; I was not fully prepared for what a delightfully rewarding release this unusual two-disc album turned out to be. As high as my expectations might have been, they were surpassed. This is an unusual album with an unusual backstory that involves Kurtág meeting the venerable Hungarian composer György Kurtág (b. 1926), whose music the pianist had been first introduced to by a recording given him by his father in the late 1990’s. More than 20 years later, much to his surprise, Ólafsson received an unexpected message while on tour: “György Kurtág would love to meet you while you are in Budapest for your upcoming concert.”

Although he was at first intimidated by the thought of meeting what he regarded as such a “fiercely intellecfual musical thinker and formidable teacher,” Ólafsson soon found Kurtág to be warm and welcoming, inviting the younger man to play for him on a beautiful Steinway that had belonged to Kurtág’s late wife. About this experience, Ólafsson recounts “I soon began playing the music that came to mind: Bach, Mozart, Haydn, Bartok, Icelandic folk songs. Kurtág would comment, make suggestions, tell a story – always full of insight and inspiration. In what felt like 15 minutes, two hours had gone by.” Later, after more of his routine of practice, travel, concerts, and meetings, Ólafsson found himself recalling that evening in Budapest, recalling “I felt like I had been reacquainted with some musical essence, and it gave me a feeling of lightness and joy. Wanting to write him a letter to thank him, I found myself at the piano instead, drawing up a map of works with Kurtág’s own music as a compass. The result is this album.”

The program on From Afar consists of 22 tracks that Ólafsson has chosen along the lines suggested his account above – some Bach, Mozart, Bartok, Icelandic folk songs (Haydn didn’t make the cut), et al., along with a generous helping of Kurtág. The musical selections for the most part are brief, many lasting less than two minutes. Although the brevity of the tracks and variety of the composers might seem to portend a crazy quilt of styles and moods, the overall impression given off by the album as the program moves along from track to track is actually quite consistent. From the opening brief snippet of Bach, which is calm and reflective, Ólafsson seems to be inviting us to join him in contemplating the beauty, peace, and joy to be found among the 88 keys of the piano. As he puts it, “throughout the album, there are intimate conversations and messages from afar – closely knit canons, transcriptions and dedications, as well as distant echoes of nearly forgotten, ancient melodies. And like a trail of shiny little stones in a moonlit forest, there are the works of Kurtág: his transcriptions of Bach and his on ever-growing selection of piano works, Játékok, or Games. In these works it is clear that Kurtág’s primary method of inquiry in the world of musical ideas is the same as that of the child: play.” Sprinkled among the works of the works of the composers of the past, these miniatures by Kurtág do indeed bring an element of playfulness to the proceedings -- never in an ironic or mocking way, but rather by offering upbeat, encouraging interjections from time to time.

As I have suggested above, intimacy and playfulness are two defining characteristics of the music on From Afar. And that music has been recorded not once, but twice, for this release, as Ólafsson explains: “This album contains two recordings of the same music, one made on a Steinway concert grand and the other made on an upright with a layer of felt covering the strings, a permanent soft pedal… For me as an artist, nothing will ever replace the large, resplendent canvas and unlimited colours of the grand piano, but the familial sincerity of the upright should not be underestimated. There is a confidentiality, a whispering intimacy to the sound of the upright piano that I love to experiment with. In this recording, the microphones are so close you can hear the keys depressed and released, the pedals creak, even the pianist breathing. I want the sound to reach the listener as if sitting on the piano bench with me… The upright piano interpretation as well. Its percussive materiality and the absence of forgiving overtones demand new timings and textures, a different attention to structure.” So yes, these really are two different albums. Each has a different sort of intimacy, a different sort of playfulness. My guess is that most listeners will give the Steinway disc the most attention; however, I hope they will not neglect the upright disc, for it is utterly fascinating and well worth serious and repeated listening. There really is something to be said about the “familial sincerity” of Ólafsson’s upright piano, especially when it is recorded in such a way that it seems to have been transported directly into your listening room – with the pianist himself in tow.

Ólafsson’s liner notes are both interesting and informative. In addition to the background essay material from which the excerpts above were taken, he also includes commentary on the musical selections included in the album. The title of the album might be From Afar, but the music, the sound, the liner notes, and the photography all work together to draw us close to the music and Ólafsson’s love for it. This is an interesting, involving, and endearing album that further enhances the growing reputation of this supremely talented and insightful master of the keyboard.

KWN

New Releases, No. 34 (CD reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

Mosaic
Debussy: Beau Soir (transcr. J. Heifitz); Première Rhapsodie; Tárrega: Recuerdo de la Alhambra (transcr. R. Ricci); Ravel: Pavane pour une infante défunte (transcr. V. Borisovsky); Vocalise-étude en forme de Habanera; Fauré: Élégie in C Minor, Op. 24; Papillon, Op. 77; Berceuse, Op. 16 (transcr. T. Butorac); Après un rêve, Op. 7, No. 1 (transcr. P. Cassals); Albéniz: Tango in D Major, Op. 165, No. 2; Akira Nishimura: Fantasia on Song of the Birds; Pablo Casals: El Cant dels Ocells (Song of the Birds); de Falla: Siete canciones populares españolas (transcr. E. Cólon) - I. El Paño Moruno; II. Seguidilla Murciana; III. Asturiana; IV. Jota; V. Nana; VI. Canción; VII. Polo. Wenting Kang, viola; Sergei Kvitko, piano. Blue Griffin BGR 609.

It's always exciting to get a new release and discover a composer you’ve never heard before. This new release, Mosaic, brought that same feeling of delightful discovery, but this time not because of a new composer, but rather because of a performer. Granted, many of the new releases that I audition feature performers whose names are new to me; however, there just seems to be something special about the Chinese-born violist Wenting Kang (b. 1987), who has pulled together a captivatingly colorful and lively program of music that she has chosen to play so expressively on the viola, not the instrument for which they were originally written. As you can see from a glance through the titles above, the bulk of her program comes from French and Spanish composers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, who, as she points out in her liner note essay, “not only had a strong impact on each other’s work, but they were also very connected in their personal lives. Some of them were professor and student, such as Faure and Ravel. Others were close friends and colleagues, such as Fauré and Albeniz, Ravel and Falla, Tarrega and Casals and Falla, and more. As I enjoyed discovering these connections between the works and composers, I also found the modern composition of Akira Nishimura – ‘Fantasia on Song of the Birds,’ which was inspired by the Catalan folk song ‘El Cant dels Ocells’ – and I felt it ought to be included as a beautifully expressive reflection in the more contemporary musical language, and would be a wonderful counterpart to Casals’ piece with the same title.”

From start to finish, Kang and Kvitko – who, in addition to playing the piano, also served as recording engineer and producer for this release, an impressively talented individual to be sure! – bring heartfelt expression to this lyrical collection, with the rich tone of the viola sounding “just right” for these pieces. Please understand what I mean when I say that Mosaic is not just another violin recital, which it obviously isn’t. What it is is something very special indeed.  

L'Aurore
Hildegard von Bingen: Spiritus sanctus vivificans vita; Enescu: Fantaisie concertante; Benjamin: Three Miniatures; Ysaÿe: Sonata No. 5 in G major op. 27; Bach: Partita No. 2 in D minor BWV 1004. Carolin Widmann, violin. ECM New Series 2709 485 6803.

German violinist Carolin Widmann (b. 1976) has primarily been known as a specialist in modern music, but in her new album for the ECM New Series label she begins with music from long ago, music not originally written for the violin. The liner booklet contains an interview in which she answers question about the compositions that appear on that album, and of the opening piece attributed to the twelfth-century nun, Hildegard von Bingen, Widmann responds: “I wanted to show what the violin is capable of with this compilation of works, and in order to do so I went all the way back to the beginnings. Where does our music come from, where does the musical language come from? To me, Hildegard seemed the earliest thing that could be played on the violin, and I find her music to be very touching. I was particularly taken with this antiphon. During the recordings, we discovered that I play it differently each time. That’s why the piece appears twice, like a kind of ritual. It is played at the beginning and then before Bach’s Partita, which rounds everything off.”  Following the Bingen is a work by Enescu from 1932, a much more modern-sounding piece that really allows Widmann to show what her violin is capable of doing – but do not fear, it is not dissonant or shrill, it is rather a marvel of intense musical expression. Following the Enescu are three short miniatures by George Benjamin that he composed in 2002, each lasting less than three minutes, each allowing Widmann to demonstrate a different aspect of her technique. The Ysaÿe sonata is, as might be expected from that virtuoso violinist/composer, more of a virtuoso piece, but as Widmann points out, does not include a “virtuoso fast movement” as do some of his other sonatas. There are two movements here, complex enough to allow Widmann to highlight her technique without ever resorting to sheer breakneck speed. Then after a reprise of Hildegard’s music, Widmann closes with Bach: “It was a great concern of mine to finally record this Partita. I waited and waited with it and worked on it for years. Now I felt: the time is ripe and I have enough experience with the piece. Maybe in five years I’ll play it differently again, but in its present form it’s a mirror of my current life and artistic experiences.”

As I listened to her performance of the Bach, there seemed to be a certain lightness to her touch, a purity to her tone, and an extra measure of joy coming through her interpretation. Yes, this is an entirely subjective judgment on my part; perhaps others might feel differently, although it would be hard for me to imagine that anyone would find her playing heavy-handed or her interpretation dour. For those with a love for the violin, this recording is well worth seeking out both for its sound and its musical merits. It is an unalloyed delight in both respects.

Philip Glass: Symphony No. 12 “Lodger”
(from lyrics by David Bowie and Brian Eno). Angélique Kidjo, voice; Christian Schmitt, organ; Dennis Russell Davies, Filharmonie Brno. Orange Mountain Music OMM 0159.

Long-time fans of Philip Glass might be aware that this is not the first time that he has based a symphony on an album by the late English rock icon David Bowie. As conductor Dennis Russell Davies tells the story, “Philip was in his early fifties when we began discussing the idea of composing a symphony… Most of his instrumental music to date, with elements of improvisation, were created for the Philip Glass Ensemble, but I was eager to win Philip’s growing young audience for classical symphonic concerts. Around this time an idea was developing to have Philip write a piece based on music by David Bowie and Brian Eno, which Philp then transformed in to a three-movement symphony, his first, called “Low.” Of course he later returned to his special collaboration with Bowie and Eno with his fourth symphony “Heroes.”  Low, Heroes, and Lodger were albums that Bowie recorded in Berlin in the late 1970s with the help of Brian Eno and are known to Bowie fans as the “Berlin albums.”

Although Glass’s first two symphonies based on Bowie’s Berlin albums are purely orchestral, his Symphony No. 12 is a vocal symphony consisting of seven movements. The first is a brief (2:42) movement for the orchestra and organ, while the remaining six all feature singing by Benin-born world music singer Angélique Kidjo with orchestral accompaniment. The sound of the organ intertwined with the orchestra – and sometimes playing on its own – makes for some interesting sonic textures; Glass has moved beyond simple minimalism to produce some genuinely colorful and involving music. Kidjo’s voice, on the other hand, is at once shouty and flat-sounding. She sounds neither like a rock singer nor an opera singer. The lyrics, which are printed in the CD booklet, are of course clearly intended to be sung by a man; hearing them sung by a woman is a bit, well, I’ll just leave it at that. (As a side note, there are a couple of photos in the CD booklet apparently taken at a concert performance of this symphony – the liner notes state that the recording was made in the studio between a pair of live performances – in which Ms. Kidjo is singing into a microphone, which seems a bit surprising.)

To be honest, it is just not clear who this release is aimed at. Classical music lovers who were open-minded enough to enjoy Glass’s first two Bowie-derived symphonies are most likely going to be put off by the vocals, and it is hard to imagine very many fans of the late Thin White Duke suddenly deciding they want to hear this symphonic release. But, hey, I’ve been wrong before…

KWN

New Releases, No. 33 (CD reviews)

Prism IV: Danish String Quartet. Bach: Fugue in G minor, BWV 861; Beethoven: String Quartet No. 15 in A minor op. 132;  Mendelssohn: String Quartet No. 2 in A minor op. 13. Danish String Quartet (Frederik Øland, violin; Rune Tonsgaard Sørensen, violin; Asbjørn Nørgaard, viola; Fredrik Schøyen Sjölin, cello). ECM New Series 2564.

By Karl W. Nehring

My first encounter with the late string quartets of Beethoven – which was also my first encounter with string quartets, period (I had heard the were the pinnacle of the string quartet repertoire, and figured I might as well start with the very best, right?) – was a box set of LPs by the Yale Quartet on the Vanguard label that I picked up at a discount sale price during my last term as an undergraduate student. I was, as we often said in those days, “blown away” by the music emanating from my then-new Polk Audio Monitor 10s. I was simply amazed that anyone could write music like that, music that seemed to have come from some realm beyond mere human comprehension. My respect for Beethoven, already considerable, expanded exponentially. A day or two after purchasing the set, in fact, I stayed up all night writing papers for a couple of my philosophy classes, playing the late quartets of Beethoven over and over and over again. What greater philosophical inspiration could a young man hope for, I ask you?

Over the decades since I have listened to many and owned several sets of the late quartets on CD (the Yale, Emerson, Takács, and Tokyo box sets remain on my CD rack). Now in my later years I have suddenly found myself being taught a revelatory lesson by about the late quartets by a relatively young string quartet, and I must confess that it took me until their fourth lesson to finally “get it.”

As the statement on the back cover of this and each of the three preceding volumes of their “Prism” series of ECM New Series releases has stated: “Lines of connection are drawn in the Danish String Quartet’s five Prism volumes from a Bach fugue through one of the late Beethoven quartets to the music of a subsequent composer.” Although I had listened to two of the of previous three releases from this ECM “Prism” series by the Danish String Quartet, one a few times, the other just once (and cursorily, at that, I will admit, having not quite “gotten” the first), the “line of connection” never connected with me. This time, however: POW!

For whatever reason, from the opening notes of the Bach fugue from the Well Tempered Clavier, arranged for string quartet by Emanuel Aloys Förster, I felt the spirit of the late quartets. As the young Danes moved from Bach to Beethoven, the shift of gears was nearly imperceptible. Later, as the foursome turned from Beethoven to Mendelssohn, that shift, although more perceptible, was anything but abrupt. From start to finish, Prism IV is a rewarding musical experience that truly does reveal a line though genres and generations. You don’t have to read the liner notes to appreciate that Beethoven revered and studied the music of Bach and that Mendelssohn of course studied the music of Beethoven, but the notes are informative and helpful nonetheless in filling in some of the details. The engineering is up to the usual ECM standard, rich and resonant.

Corazón: The Music of Latin America. Brouwer: Canción de cuna*; Villa-Lobos: O canto do cisne negro, W 122; Carlos Guastavino: Pampamapa; Manuel Ponce: Par ti mi corazón; Egberto Gismonti: Água e Vinho;* Ponce: Estrellita (arr. by JIJI & Jascha Heifetz); Piazzolla: Le Grand Tango; Villa-Lobos: Pequeña Suite - Melodia; Ondulando; Ponce: Sonata in G minor for violincello and piano; Piazzolla: Oblivion. John-Henry Crawford, cello; Victor Santiago Asuncion, piano; *JIJI, guitar. Orchid Classics ORC100198.

My guess would be (to be honest, I’m often wrong, but bear with me) that for many classical music fans, when they see the phrase “the music of Latin America,” the cello is not the first instrument that comes to mind. Or even the second or third, for that matter. But as fate would have it, in the summer of 2019, the young American cellist John-Henry Crawford (b. 1993) traveled to Mexico to compete in an international cello competition, won first prize, wound uo returning to Mexico many times for performances, and as he recounts, “fell in love with the music of Latin America, the culture, the history, and the Spanish language. This album takes the listener on a musical tour through Argentina, Brazil, Cuba, and Mexico… spanning over 140 years of Latin American music culture.”

From the opening measures of Leo Brouwer’s Canción de cuna, arranged here for cello and guitar, you immediately get the sense that Crawford is out to communicate, not to bedazzle. This is playing of warmth and expressiveness, not of virtuosic excess. The cello/guitar combination also works well on Egberto Gismonti’s Água e Vinho, a dreamily lyrical piece from a composer whose name I best remember from his ECM guitar album Sol Do Meio Dia back in 1978, as well as on the next piece, Manuel Ponce’s Estrellita, on which Crawford’s cello just sings a tender love song, accompanied by JIJI’s guitar.

On the remaining pieces except for one, Crawford is accompanied by Victor Santiago Asuncion on piano. The “big” piece is the Ponce Sonata in G minor. Although it is of course the most formally structured composition on the album, it does not sound out of place, as it has its passages with the same lilt and flair heard in many of the other works herein. And it would be hard to imagine an album of Latin American music that did not include music by Villa-Lobos, represented here by three melodically gifted selections that tug at the heart, or Astor Piazzolla, represented here by two selections. The first is a composition in the style that made him famous, Le Grand Tango, which sounds suitably grand even when arranged for only cello and piano, with Crawford and Asuncion both playing with passion and power for eleven soulful minutes that are a highlight of the album.

Piazzolla’s Oblivion closes the album, the mood being more moody and reflective, the tango here having more of a last dance feeling in an arrangement for 14 cellos that gives Crawford an opportunity to let his cello sing in several registers simultaneously through the miracle of digital engineering. Because I was curious about just how this track might have been recorded, I inquired of Crawford through his PR agency and received his helpful explanation: “Yes, the last track is a cello choir plus solo line that is made up of only my playing layered over itself. The pizzicato replicates the double bass, and required the cello to be scordatura, and then there are three to a part on a quartet plus the solo cello line imitating the bandoneón." (Note that “scordatura” refers to an alternate tuning.) A quick note about the engineering, then, which is by the redoubtable Adam Abeshouse, a name that seems to pop up fairly often on fine-sounding recordings, of which this is an example. For cello lovers and/or fans of Latin American music, Corazón is an easy recommendation.

Brahms: Cello Sonata No. 1 in E minor Op. 38; 7 Songs (arr. Norbert Salter [1868-1935] & David Geringas [b. 1946]); Cello Sonata No 2. in F Op. 99. Antonio Meneses, cello; Gérard Wyss, piano. AVIE AV2493.

Are you in the mood for some more music for cello and piano? If so, let’s take a trip across the Atlantic from Latin America to Germany (or, if you are really in the mood for some fun, travel, and adventure, we could always set sail across the Pacific and then hike across Asia on our way to Europe) for an encounter with the music of Johannes Brahms (1833-1897). Brahms is sometimes referred to as the third “B” of that pop-culture classical music composer trinity: Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms. Interestingly enough, all three of these musical icons composed landmark works for the cello – Bach with his suites for solo cello (I reviewed a recent recording of a couple of these here ???), Beethoven with his sonatas for cello and piano (you can see a review of a recent recording here ???), and Brahms with the two sonatas included in this new recording by the Brazilian cellist Antonio Meneses (b. 1967) and Swiss pianist Gérard Wyss (b. 1944).

These two sonatas come from different periods in Brahms’s career. He began working on Sonata No. 1 in the summer of 1862, relatively early in his career, completing what we now have as the first two movements plus an Adagio movement that may or may not have been adapted many years later into the slow movement of his Sonata No. 2. For whatever reason, he then put the piece aside for three years before writing the finale and deeming it complete in 1865 (publishing it in 1866) with only three rather than the usual four movements. The first movement, however, is quite substantial, longer than the following two movements combined. As a result, this is not a brief sonata. Moreover, that first movement is not only long (14:43 in this performance), it is a musical composition that could seemingly stand on its own as a complete piece, so eloquent and moving is it, especially as played here with such warmth of tone and fluidity of line by Meneses and Wyss. I must confess – without shame, to be honest – that while auditioning this CD for review, I often found myself returning to this movement and playing at least parts of it, especially the opening few minutes, just to enjoy the sheer beauty of the music.

Brahms did not start work on another cello sonata for another 20 years, composing it in 1886 and publishing it in 1887. This work is in the more traditional four movements, with the opening movement again being the longest, but at just over nine minutes as performed here, not as extended as in the previous sonata. One of the things that the attentive listener will notice is how skillfully Brahms writes for both the cello and the piano, giving both instruments distinctive voices. Perhaps the highlight of the piece is the second movement, marked Adagio affettuoso, music that should be able to bring consolation to the most forlorn of souls. Note the way that Brahms employs his familiar device of playing competing rhythms against each other at times to create a feeling of tension, here of course with only two instruments. Hear also how the cello plays at times very low notes, at other times very high notes – all within the same short movement.

Between the two sonatas, the disc is filled out generously (total time is 75:12) with seven songs by Brahms arranged for cello and piano. Among these seven is Wiegenlied Op 49 No. 4, better known by it popular title as the “Brahms lullaby.” These songs contain some lovely melodies, but are played here as serious music, not as pop kitsch. Something that stands out about this release is a sense of warmth, both in the playing and in the engineering. For comparative purposes, I pulled down from my CD rack a Sony recording from 1992 of the two sonatas made by Yo-Yo Ma and Emmanuel Ax. The sound seemed just a bit thinner and colder, and the playing seemed just not quite as expressive – a bit cooler, if you will. For both performance and sonics, my preference is for this new AVIE release, which is definitely a keeper.

KWN

Vivaldi: 12 concertos op. 3 l’estro armónico (CD Review)

Also, Bach: Six concertos after l’estro armónico by Antonio Vivaldi. CD1: Vivaldi: Concerto No. 1 for 4 Violins in D Major, Op. 3, RV 549; Concerto No. 2 for 2 Violins in G Minor, Op. 3, RV 578; Concerto No. 3 for Violin in G Major, Op. 3, RV 310; Bach: Concerto for Solo Harpsichord after RV 310 in F Major, BWV 978; Vivaldi: Concerto No. 10 for 4 Violins in B Minor, Op. 3, RV 580; Bach: Concerto for 4 Harpsichords and Strings after RV 580 in A Minor, BWV 1065; Vivaldi: Concerto No. 11 for 2 Violins and Cello in D Minor, Op. 3, RV 565; Bach: Concerto for Solo Organ after RV 565 in D Minor, BWV 596; Vivaldi: Concerto No. 12 for Violin in E Major, Op. 3, RV 265; CD2: Bach: Concerto for Solo Harpsichord after RV 265 in C Major, BWV 976; Vivaldi: Concerto No. 4 for 4 Violins in E Minor, Op. 3, RV 550; Concerto No. 5 for 2 Violins in A Major, Op. 3, RV 519; Concerto No. 6 for Violin in A Minor, Op. 3, RV 356; Concerto No. 7 for 4 Violins in F Major, Op. 3, RV 567; Concerto No. 8 for 2 Violins in A Minor, Op. 3, RV 522; Bach: Concerto for solo organ after RV 522 in A Minor, BWV 593; Vivaldi: Concerto No. 9 for Violin in D Major, Op. 3, RV 230; Bach: Concerto for Solo Harpsichord after RV 230 in D Major, BWV 972. Rinaldo Alessandrini, director and solo harpsichord, Concerto Italiano; Lorenzo Ghielmi, organ; Andrea Buccarella, Salvatore Carchiolo, Ignazio Schifani, harpsichords. Naïve OP 7367.

By Karl W. Nehring

This is one of those releases that grabs your attention right from the very start and never really lets go. It opens with Vivaldi’s Concerto No. 1 in D Major for 4 Violins, RV 549, which features an opening allegro movement that takes no prisoners. But before getting too far into specifics, it might be best to talk a bit about the overarching idea behind this album. As you can glean from the header above, what we have here are related compositions by two composers who lived at about the same time but in different parts of Europe. Vivaldi was born in 1678 in Venice, Italy; he published these concertos in Amsterdam in 1911 at the age of 33. Bach was born in Eisenach, Germany, in 1685.

The liner notes point out that “a famous passage in Forkel’s biography gives the young Bach’s study of Vivaldi’s concertos an essential role in his education and there can be no doubt that he had the opportunity to reflect and work on the relevance of Vivaldi’s invention for his own music, assimilating structural and even melodic ideas from it. In fact, the transcription of Italian keyboard concertos was a widespread fashion at that time. Bach was undoubtedly stimulated to transcribe various originals in Weimar by Prince Johann Ernst, a lover of Italian music. His approach was invasive, as one might expect from Bach. This quintessentially German composer did not want to renounce the fascination of a more thoroughgoing use of counterpoint and even allowed himself some substantial changes to the structure and texture. His first task, however, was to create transcriptions that were idiomatically suited to the instruments. Whether he is transferring the music to the harpsichord or organ, Bach does not merely ‘copy’ Vivaldi’s notes, but elaborates on them, creating a sonic entity appropriate to the characteristics and possibilities of the respective instruments… One might be led to believe that these transcriptions were not intended as a tribute to Vivaldi, but rather as a gesture of defiance on Bach’s part, with the aim of demonstrating how well-crafted concertos could be transformed, in his view, into compositions of greater complexity and depth.”

Interspersing Bach’s keyboard arrangements amongst Vivaldi’s original compositions is an idea that works well in practice, especially when presented in such lively performances as we have here from Maestro Alesandrini and Concerto Italiano, the chamber orchestra that he formed in 1984, plus the organ and harpsichord performers named above. The music moves right along, but never feels rushed.

Concerto Italiano is a small group comprising four violins, two violas, a cello, double bass, and theorbo (a plucked string instrument similar to a lute), plus Alessandrini on harpsichord. Their small size (not to mention their vast experience in playing just this sort of music) makes them nimble and responsive, leading to a clarity of sound that is perfect for this sort of music. The occasional change in sonority in switching from orchestra to solo keyboard offers a refreshing sonic change of pace from time to time. In any case, be it orchestra or organ or harpsichord, the sound quality is natural and lifelike, with excellent transparency and no edge in the upper registers. It’s an album bursting with joy, well worth an audition, especially for those who have a tendency to go for Baroque.   

KWN

Recent Releases, No. 32 (CD reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

LYS: Mari Samuelsen
Program includes: (1) Meredi: White Flowers Take Their Bath; (2) Dobinka Tabakova: Nocturne (arr. for violin & piano); (3) Hannah Peel: Signals; (4) Caroline Shaw: The Orangery; The Beech Tree; (5) Laura Masotto: Sol Levante; (6) Margaret Hermant: Lightwell; (7) Hildegard of Bingen: O vis eternitatis (arr. by Tormod Tvete Vik); (8) Beyoncé: Halo; (9) Lera Auerbach: Adagio sognando; (10) Hildur Guðnadóttir: Baer (arr. by Max Knoth); (11) Hannah Peel: Reverie (arr. for solo violin, strings, & electronics); (12) Hania Rani: La Luce; (13) Clarice Jensen: Love Abounds in Everything; (14) Anna Meredith: Midi (Arr. for solo Violin & electronics). Mari Samuelsen, violin; with support on the tracks indicated by Hania Rani, piano (12); Dobrawa Czecher, solo cello (12); Margaret Hermant, harp, violin, electronics (6); Fabien Leisure, electronics (6); Meredi, electronics (1); Clarice Jensen, electronics, cello, and artistic director (13); American Contemporary Music Ensemble (Ben Russell, violin; Laura Lutzke, violin; Isabel Hagen, viola; Paul Wiancko, cello) (13); Anna Meredith, electronics (14); Hannah Peel, electronics (3); 11; Erland Cooper, programming (11); Julien Quentin, piano (2, 9); Scoring Berlin (1, 3-7, 8, 10-12); Jonathan Stackhammer, conductor (1, 3-7, 6-8, 12). Deutsche Grammophon 486 2096.

Mari Samuelsen’s previous album for DG, titled simply “Mari,” was a 2-CD affair featuring a generous helping of work by contemporary composers plus a couple of works by Bach. You can read my review of that album here: https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2019/09/mari-cd-review.html Although it I must confess that it never occurred to me at the time, in the light of familiarizing myself with her new album it is now glaringly obvious that all the composers were male. To help restore some balance to the universe, all of the music on LYS (“light”) is the work of female composers; moreover, with the obvious exception of Hildegard, all are contemporary composers. As you can see, then, Ms. Samuelsen is vitally interested in presenting new music to the classical music listening public.

Do not fear, however, for all of the music on this album is quite listenable. There is nothing here that is dissonant or aurally challenging. On the contrary, this is music that is uplifting, hopeful, and engaging. Several of the composers provide brief notes about their compositions, this excerpt from Laura Masotto effectively capturing the spirit of the entire program: “Sol Levante was composed while holding in mind Mari’s discography and the way she plays the violin… While composing, I felt I wanted her and the string quartet to enjoy playing this piece, to have fun.” That sense of fun comes through not just on Marotto’s piece, but throughout the 52-minute recording. To hear such vibrant music from young musicians – players and composers alike – makes me feel confident about the future of what we still cling to calling “classical” music. Whatever you might choose to call it, it’s in good hands, folks.

Solus et una: Amit Peled
Bach: Suite No. 4 in E-flat Major for Violincello Solo, BWV 1010; Suite No. 5 in C Minor for Violincello Solo, BWV 1013; Brahms: Symphony No. 3 – Andante (arr. by Konstantin Blagojevic for eight cellos and piano)*. Amit Peled, cello; *Mount Vernon Virtuosi Cello Gang (Nick Pascucci, Natalia Vilchis, Lindsey Choung, Amit Peled, Mairéad Flory, Kyle Victor, Jiaoyang Xu, Álvaro Vázquez Osa, cellos); *Allison Freeman, piano. CTM Classics 95269 15090.  

This is yet another of those recordings arising from the pandemic. Israeli-American cellist Peled (b. 1973) says of this recording that it “is a reflection on my musical journey during the COVID-19 pandemic. As my mentor Boris Pergamenschikov wrote: ‘The Bach Cello Suites is music that cleanses the soul, especially if you ply it just for yourself, preferably without any audience.” As with many of us cellists, I found myself spending a lot of time with the Bach Suites in my home studio during the long months of the lockdown. The two suites that attracted me the most were the fourth suite in E-flat Major, which represents triumph, daring, and heroism – all the qualities I found myself searching for while trying to make sense of the artistic dryness that we all experienced at the beginning of the pandemic. And in contrast, the monumental fifth suite in C Minor, which bubbled up in me about a year into the lockdown when questions about supernatural power, God, love, religion and a search for belonging to something bigger than just us here on earth emerged in me – all the elements one finds in that almost religious most philosophical suite.”

With so many recordings of the complete set of Bach cello suites available by so many celebrated cellists – in many cases, multiple sets by celebrated artists such as Yo-Yo Ma, for example, who has no fewer than three fine sets available to choose from – what is the appeal of a single CD from a less well-known artist that contains only two of the six suites? First of all, not everyone needs to have a recording of all six suites, at least not at first (after becoming familiar with this glorious music by means of this splendid release, they may well decide to take the plunge. If they really want to jump in deep, besides picking up a recording of the complete set, they might also want to take a look at British cellist Steven Isserlis’s recent book about the Bach cello suites).

Second of all, Solus et una (“alone and together”) is in itself a splendid introduction to the suites, with Peled delivering heartfelt performances that are captured in excellent sound. I did a quick comparison of Eled’s performance  of No. 5 with Janos Starker’s venerable version on Mercury Living Presence and concluded that Eled’s version held its own. Again, for the listener new to classical music (or at least to the cello suites of Bach), Solus et una would certainly be a fine place to start.

Finally, Esed offers listeners a bonus: “As an encore track, I have included on this release the one piece that I was able to record during the lockdown with my dear cello students. Teaching during the pandemic, both online and in person, has been a source of hope, comfort and inspiration. Moreover, being able to make music with other people and with my own students was a real musical climax. For me, there’s nothing better to conclude this musical journey than the music of Brahms with its beauty of line and intimacy.” After the intensity of the Bach, the Brahms provides a relaxing change of pace. The sound quality is also different, with the instruments being more distant, the cellos blending into each other and the piano seeming to be a bit too far off in the distance to be completely effective musically. With the cellos not providing the treble parts that the violins would have provided in the original orchestral score, I had hoped the piano would have provided more of that sense, but the arrangement and engineering did not allow me to hear what I had hoped to hear. Still, as Esed writes, there does come through a sense of that Brahmsian beauty of line, even if it sounds a bit muffled. Perhaps I should not quibble about a bonus track recorded by students. All in all, this is a noteworthy release that is an excellent introduction to the wondrous world of the Bach cello suites.     

Enfolding
Scott Wollschleger: Outside Only Sound; Anne Leilehua Lanzilotti: with eyes the color of time. Eli Spindel, Brooklyn String Orchestra. New Focus FCR331.

Although there is nothing about the music on this release that is dissonant or “in-your face” (quite the opposite, actually), I will point out at the outset of this review that this is a CD that is not like to appeal to a broad swath of classical music lovers. However, there are some who may well find it fascinating, so for you folks (you know who you are, or at least I hope you will if you read on for a few more minutes), let me do my best to give you a quick thumbnail of these two compostions. The liner notes are quite skimpy, almost nonexistent, but if you are interested, you can find out more about the music at newfocusrecordings.com.  

There you will discover that “Scott Wollschleger’s Outside Only Sound was written upon request from the String Orchestra of Brooklyn to facilitate performance under lockdown restrictions. Wollschleger was asked to write a work that would require only a few minutes of rehearsal and could be performed outside. His answer was to write a work where each player is like an insect in a swarm; making sounds independently that are coordinated in accordance with time stamps in the score to create a mass of sound that moves in waves across the fourteen and half minute score. Bells, triangles, string harmonics, scratch tones, and cymbals merge with the sounds of an outdoor park, replete with laughing voices and the backing up signal of a truck. By the time the work is finished, one can sense the transformation of the public space into something shared and contemplative.” Well, for pretty much the first three minutes, the predominant sounds on the recording are ambient sounds, e.g., traffic noise, people talking, and so forth, with the instrumental sounds being way in the background. The instrumental sounds move to the foreground for the next nine minutes or so, but never really establish much in the way of melody, not that the sounds are in any way offensive. With about two minutes left, the background sounds begin to take back over. The whole effect is dreamlike, perhaps best enjoyed on headphones.

Anne Leilehua Lanzilotti’s with eyes the color of time, which was a finalist for the 2022 Pulitzer Prize in music, is said to be inspired by a series of works on display at The Contemporary Museum (Spalding House) in Honolulu. Although the notes on the lable’s website describe it as a nine-movement piece, there are only eight movements/tracks on the CD. Go figure. But while Wollschleger’s composition was recorded live in a park (and sounds like it, as described above), with eyes the color of time was recorded in a studio and although still not abounding with melody in the traditional sense, sounds more like composed music.  The composer is able to evoke a variety of moods and sounds from the assembled strings and percussion, especially in the final two movements, titled “mahina” and “enfolding,” which are both more than seven minutes in duration. The latter movement in particular is quite spellbinding, closing the program on a seemingly metaphysical plane evoked by haunting sounds that lead the mind of the listener inevitably inward. No, this is not an album for everyone, but there are certainly some who will find it fascinating.

KWN