Recent Releases No. 43 (CD Mini-reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Theory of Becoming. Evgueni Galperine: This Town Will Burn Before Dawn; Cold Front; Oumuamua, Space Wanderings; Soudain, le vide; Kaddish; The Wheel Has Come Full Circle; Le letter d’un disparu; After the Storm; Don’t Tell; Loplop im Wald. Evgueni Galperine, electronics, sampling; Sergei Nakariakov, trumpet; Sébastien Hurtaud, violoncello; Maria Vasyukova, voice. ECM New Series 2744 485 7282

 

This fascinating album is hard to categorize, lying as it does somewhere between classical, jazz, and electronica – but to these ears at least, it can reasonably be classified as classical, or at least as strongly classically influenced. Russian-born French composer Evgueni Galperine (b.1974) writes that “the sound world of this album can be regarded as a kind of ‘augmented reality of acoustic instruments.’ It is created from recordings I make from recordings I make with real and virtual instruments, which I subsequently alter. The numerous transformations the instruments undergo allow me to capture their acoustic nature while also adding techniques and colours that are completely impossible to produce in reality. This process leads to new and unexpected, yet organically grounded sounds.”  Not just the sounds, but the music also sounds organically grounded. Galperin provides brief notes on four of the tracks, explanations that make each piece sound as though it was conceived as a brief tone poem. Theory of Becoming is boldly imaginative, musically captivating, and sonically stimulating, regardless of how you decide to classify it. It’s classical enough for me.

 Gems from Armenia: Aznavoorian Duo. Komitas Vartabed: Chinar Es; Tsirani Tsar; Garoun A; Al Ailux; Krunk; Aram Khachaturian: Ivan Sings (arr. Antti Hakkarainen); Yerevan; Arno Babajanian: Elegy; Aria & Dance; Avet Terterian: Sonata for Cello and Piano; Serouj Kradjian: Sari Siroun Yar (Traditional); Alexander Arutiunian: Impromptu; Vache Sharafyan: Petrified Dance; Peter Boyer: Mount Ararat. Ani Aznavoorian, cello; Marta Aznavoorian, piano. Cedille CDR 90000 209

 

The Aznavoorian Duo comprises two sisters of Armenian descent who hail from the Chicago area. On this new Cedille release, they present compositions by seven Armenian composers, plus one composition by an American composer, Peter Boyer, who wrote Mount Ararat especially for this album and project. The Duo have been presenting concert programs based on the Gems from Armenia theme, and when they performed it in Chicago, Boyer was on hand to explain the inspiration for and ideas behind his composition to the audience. It is a dramatic piece, closing the program on a serious note after it had begun with much lighter fare. The opening tracks on the disc by Vartabed ((1869-1935), Khachaturian (1903-1978), and Babajanian (1921-1983) are all relatively brief, melodic, and folk-based. Two of the pieces, Garoun A by Vaerabed and the Elegy by Babajanian are for solo piano, played by Marta; all the other compositions are for both cello and piano. (The liner notes state, by the way, that Marta is a Steinway Artist, while “Ani proudly performs on a cello made in Chicago by her father, Peter Aznavoorian.”) The sonata by Terterian (1929-1994) is the longest selection (20:41), but it continues in the same populist musical spirit as the preceding pieces, suffused with melody, as are the next two tracks by Serouj Kradjian (b. 1973) and Alexander Arutiunian (1920-2012). The penultimate piece on the program, Petrified Dance by Vache Sharafyan, has a brooding, haunted quality to it, setting the stage for the dramatic opening bars of Boyer’s Mount Ararat. As usual with Cedille, the engineering is flawless and the liner notes are helpful.

Bohuslav Martinu: Concerto for Harpsichord and Small Orchestra; Hans Krása: Kammermusik for Harpsichord and 7 Instruments; Viktor Kalabis: Concerto for Harpsichord and String Orchestra, Op. 42. Mahan Esfahani, harpsichord; Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra, Alexander Liebreich, conductor. Hyperion CDA68397

 

This refreshing release presents unfamiliar music with energy and enthusiasm. Iranian-born harpsichordist Mahan Esfahani (b.1984) grew up in the United States and now lives in Prague. He has been a rising star on his instrument (he first came to my attention with his energetic recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations) and he is a passionate advocate for its more widespread recognition. The most familiar figure among the three Czech composers represented on this release for most listeners will no doubt be Bohuslav Martinu (1890-1959), although this particular composition of Martinu’s will likely be unfamiliar to most. Despite being titled as a work for harpsichord and small orchestra, the piece opens sounding as if it is going to be a piano concerto. The harpsichord does eventually gain the spotlight, its distinctive sound seemingly offering a reflective commentary on what has come before. It is interesting to hear how the piano sound emanates from the left rear of the soundstage while the harpsichord is placed forward, but still the sound of the piano threatens to dominate. Musically, it is a sparkling piece, the diminutive sound of the harpsichord drawing the listener in closer to the heart of the music.

The relatively brief (14:24) two-movement Kammermusik for Harpsichord and Seven Instruments by Hans Krása (1899-1944), who was murdered at Auschwitz, another tragic victim of the Holocaust, is by turns jaunty, witty, tart, and playful (is that a bit of Bolero we hear being snuck in there?) as it moves energetically along through it exuberant first movement. The second movement begins slowly but soon picks up speed and becomes downright jaunty, with some energetic playing by Esfahani setting the pace, before finally ending more peacefully. Concerning the Concerto for Harpsichord and String Orchestra by Viktor Kalabis (1923-2006), Esfahani writes: “Of the three works on this recording – indeed, of all modern harpsichord works – Viktor Kalabis’s 1975 Concerto for Harpsichord and String Orchestra, Op. 42, is the most personal. It certainly has an intense personal connection for me ii I was, after all, the last student of the work’s dedicatee, who was herself the wife of the composer.” This is the work of the three that stands out most distinctly as a bona fide harpsichord concerto, and Esfahani makes a convincing case for it, playing exuberantly in the outer movements and more introspectively in the middle movement. All in all, this is an album that deserves to win a wider audience for both Esfahani and his chosen instrument, the harpsichord.

 

Last Decade: Benjamin Lackner. Where Do We Go from Here; Circular Confidence; Camino Cielo; Hung Up on That Ghost; Last Ghost; Last Decade; Remember This; Open Minds Lost; Émile; My People. Benjamin Lackner, piano; Mathias Eick, trumpet; Jérôme Regard, double bass; Manu Katché, drums. ECM 2738 389 9024

 

Last Decade is another of those ECM albums that exemplify the overlap between chamber music and jazz. Although it is clearly a jazz album, the way the musicians interact, the balance among the various parts, the way all seem to be working toward a common goal rather than trying to showcase their own individual talents – it calls to mind the interaction of, say, a string quartet and pianist getting together to perform the Brahms Piano Quintet. Although pianist Lackner is listed as the leader, his piano does not dominate. Eick on trumpet weaves some spellbinding melodies, but never to the extent of unleashing any kind of splashy virtuosic, attention-grabbing display. Nor does Lackner indulge in any flashy displays, but rather plays subtle, pastel melodic lines. For classical music fans who might want to widen their musical horizons, this is an album well worth an audition.  

 

Dvorak: Violin Concerto (CD review)

Also, Khachaturian: Violin Concerto. Rachel Barton Pine, violin; Teddy Abrams, Royal Scottish National Orchestra. Avie AV2411.



It's always a pleasure to welcome a new recording by American virtuoso violinist Rachel Barton Pine (b. 1974). She began her concert career at the age of ten with Erich Leinsdorf and the Chicago Symphony in the mid 1980's and her recording career with the Dorian and Cedille labels in the mid 1990's. It was here with Cedille that I first encountered her and, I'm proud to say, first began reviewing her recordings. She continued making records mostly with Cedille up until just a few years ago when she began working with Avie Records. While today she appears to be recording with both Cedille and Avie, whatever the record company she has continued to produce well poised and sweetly polished performances, with some of the best sound afforded a violinist. The present Avie disc is a case in point.



Here, Ms. Barton Pine tackles two giant works of the violin concerto genre, those by Dvorak and Khachaturian, starting the album with the Dvorak. Even though Dvorak's Violin Concerto took its place in the basic classical repertoire long ago, it has never seemed to quite catch on with the public the way those from Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Paganini, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, and others have caught on. The Dvorak maybe 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, which Ms. Barton Pine is eager to share with us.



So, 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. However, as it turned out, Joachim didn't much care for the finished work and never did perform it. Despite the violinist's skepticism, though, Dvorak released the piece, and the rest is history, as they say. Still, I have some lingering doubts myself. Maybe Joachim had something, the music never impressing me as much as it has impressed some others, even in the capable hands of Ms. Barton Pine.

Rachel Barton Pine

Whatever, 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. Joachim may have felt that the orchestra dominated the score, but Dvorak made some revisions before premiering it. Here, with Ms. Barton Pine, there is no question the violin dominates. She asserts her authority on the music from the outset, clearly establishing who is in charge. She handles the primary melody with both power and grace, making it strong yet lyrical and flowing. It's quite rhapsodic and quite lovely.

The slow central section, 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. The movement became so popular that concert violinists often perform it as a stand-alone item. Be that as it may, in the hands of Ms. Barton Pine it sounds all of a piece with the rest of the concerto, an integral part rather than an artificial add-on. She maintains a good, forward pace (again, not too slow was Dvorak's advice), and invests the music with much inner feeling and joy. And I should add that Maestro Abrams's accompaniment is flawless, and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra sounds appropriately rich, lush, and accomplished.



In the Finale Dvorak returns to the radiant, dance-like tunes and Czech folk melodies of the opening movement. Ms. Barton Pine's interpretation is a delight, and along with Perlman (EMI) and Mutter (DG) must now count as one of the best recorded performances of the work available.



Coupled with the Dvorak we find the Violin Concerto of Soviet-Armenian composer Aram Khachaturian (1903-1978). He wrote it in 1940, and Soviet violinist David Oistrakh premiered it the same year. Apparently, Khachaturian found much influence for the work from the folk music of his native Armenia. It is a surprisingly old-fashioned piece of music for the mid twentieth century, with much rhythm, vitality, and melody, which may explain why it won the Stalin Prize in 1941 from a notoriously conservative body of Soviet judges who at the time were pretty much down on anything sounding even vaguely modern.



Ms. Barton Pine plays the Khachaturian with abandon. It appears she has had plenty of practice in doing so as she says she had an immediate connection with the work, and for a while it was her "go-to concerto for competitions." She brings out all the folk-inspired qualities of the music and invests it with a profusion of color.



Producer Andrew Keener and engineer Simon Eadon recorded the concertos at RSNO Centre, Glasgow, Scotland in August 2018. The sound is quite good, with the soloist well centered and not too far out in front of the orchestra. Meanwhile, the orchestral detailing is also good, perhaps a tad bright and forward but nothing too objectionable. The dynamic range is wide, and transient impact is more than adequate. What's more, any minor edge in the upper frequencies is more than mitigated by the warmth of the lower midrange and upper bass. I don't think most people will be disappointed in Avie's sound.



JJP



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

Prokofiev: Alexander Nevsky (CD review)

Also, Khachaturian: Violin Concerto. Fritz Reiner, Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Chorus; Leonid Kogan, violin; Pierre Monteux, Boston Symphony Orchestra. RCA 09026-63708-2.



Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953) wrote his cantata Alexander Nevsky for the soundtrack of Russian filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein's 1938 motion picture of the same name. The film epic and the music commemorate the Russian repelling of a German invasion in the thirteenth century. In the tale, Prince Alexander Nevsky gathered an enormous army and met the enemy on the frozen ice of Lake Chud, where he dealt the Knights of the Teutonic Order a huge defeat. Today, people admire the film quite a lot, but I daresay even more folks know film's score better.



Eisenstein said of Prokofiev that he "...makes it possible for the screen to reveal not only the appearance and subjects of objects, but also, and particularly, their special inner structure...and forces the whole inflexible structure to blossom into the emotional fullness of orchestration." The movement titles say it all the better: "Russia Under the Mongolian Yoke," "Song About Alexander Nevsky," "The Crusaders in Pskov," "Arise, Ye Russian People," "The Battle on the Ice," "Field of the Dead," and "Alexander's Entry Into Pskov."

Fritz Reiner

The 1959 recording of the score by Fritz Reiner and his Chicago Symphony does full justice to the music, bringing out the anxiety of anticipation, the brutality of fighting, the heartache of loss, and the exhilaration of victory. Equally important, RCA's "Living Stereo" sound is entirely up to the task of conveying the nuances and explosiveness of the music. The hitch is that Andre Previn recorded an equally good account for EMI with the London Symphony Orchestra in 1972, and Warner still have the EMI disc in their catalogue, offering it at a very low price.



Here are some of the differences between the Reiner and Previn recordings: Reiner's interpretation is a tad more heartfelt, and RCA's sound is wider and clearer. Previn's performance is a shade quicker and more energetic, and EMI's sound is a bit warmer. On the loudest choral climaxes, the EMI tends to break up slightly more than the RCA. Additionally, Previn's chorus sings in the original Russian, while Reiner's forces sing in English.



Choice between the two may rest with their couplings. The EMI/Previn disc gives us a superb realization of Rachmaninov's The Bells, based on the Edgar Allan Poe poem; the RCA disc offers Khachaturian's Violin Concerto with Leonid Kogan on violin and the Boston Symphony conducted by Pierre Monteux, recorded in 1958. Sonically, the Khachaturian is not as smooth or comfortable as the Prokofiev, and while Monteux, Kogan, and company play exceedingly well, personally I have never cared overmuch for the Violin Concerto. So it's an easy choice for me to pick the EMI disc. , For you, however, it may be quite different, and Reiner's performance is very persuasive.



JJP



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

Ballets Russes: Russian Dances and Ballets (CD review)

Paavo Jarvi; Marinsky Choir, St. Petersburg; Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France.  Virgin Classics 7243-5-45609-2.



You're probably better at remembering things than I am because when I hear the name Paavo Jarvi I still find it hard not to think of Neeme Jarvi or Paavo Berglund. Fortunately, the younger Jarvi shares the same no-nonsense approach to music making as the older men. In this collection of famous short dances by Russian masters, Paavo Jarvi plays the music in a straightforward fashion--straightforward to a fault, I might add--and generally the music sounds the better for it.



The disc contains the usual suspects: Tchaikovsky, Khachaturian, Shostakovich, Prokofiev, Glazunov, Liadov, Glinka, and Borodin. The tunes are about as familiar as the names, too: the Polonaise and Waltz from Eugene Onegin; the "Sabre Dance" from Gayaneh; the "Waltz of the Flowers" from The Nutcracker; the "Dance of the Knights" from Romeo and Juliet; the "Polovtsian Dances" from Prince Igor; etc.

Paavo Jarvi

As well, there are a few less-familiar pieces: Shostakovich's cheeky little "Polka" from The Golden Age and "Waltz No. 2" from the Jazz Suite No. 2; Liadov's "Dance of the Amazon"; Glinka's "Valse-Fantasia," among others. Nothing lasts more than a few minutes, so it's the kind of album you can pop into your player for a moment or two or linger over for a while between chores.



More important, Jarvi serves it all up comfortably. He is perhaps not as idiomatic as some conductors in this type of repertoire nor so colorful as others, but, as I've said, his direct, forthright approach lets the music speak for itself, and that can be a pleasant surprise, indeed. It's all fairly light music, after all, and in short bits it's hardly the kind of thing one can get too far into; therefore, Jarvi's honest yet lively renditions of these pieces hit a welcome sweet spot.



Originally released by Virgin in 2004 (and rereleased in 2011 by Erato on the disc pictured above), the recording is robust, to say the least, not always conforming to the audiophile's conception of good audio, perhaps, but reasonably faithful to a real-life source. The bass comes up strong, perhaps a tad overly heavy, the bass drum especially prominent when necessary. The midrange appears somewhat obscured by the bass overhang and in full bloom seems somewhat thick. The highs are maybe not always as clear or vibrant as they could be, either, and on occasion sound slightly hard and sharp. The overall sonic effect is not unpleasant, however, and will surely please listeners seeking a "big" musical experience.



JJP



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

Classical Expressions (HQCD review)

Music of
Khachaturian, Granados, Saraste, Rachmaninov, Schubert, Debussy, and others. Richard
Amoroso, The Not-So-Classical Chamber Ensemble. HDTT DTR1.

In their own words, “Direct-to-Tape Recording Company
(DTR) was founded in 1979 with the goal of capturing the sound of a performance
as you would hear it if you were there.

Although the recording media have changed from the open
reel and cassette tapes we originally used in 1979 to PCM digital in 1982 and
later to Digital Audio Tape (DAT) and now to hard disk recorders, our
philosophy has remained the same. DTR recordings are normally recorded with two
microphones to capture a natural sound and the acoustic space of a performance.
We use no equalization, compression, limiting, or other electronic tricks and
gimmicks that can spoil the sound. Very few splices (if any) are used within
each movement or piece in order to capture the musical ‘soul’ of a performance.
The results of these efforts are recordings which duplicate, as closely as
possible, the sound you would hear if you were at a live performance.

The music we are recording (primarily classical, jazz, and
light classical) is served best by our recording techniques. By using only two
microphones we avoid the myriad problems which occur with multitrack
recording.”

Now the folks at HDTT (High Definition Tape Transfers)
have begun remastering some of DTR’s material, apparently making it better than
ever (although I can only assume this because I had no standard-issue DTR disc
on hand with which to make comparisons. I can only say that DTR’s recording
techniques produce quite realistic outcomes and that HDTT’s processing produces
an excellent remastering. For the audiophile, the HDTT product seems well worth
investigating.

The present recording, Classical
Expressions, features The Not-So-Classical Chamber Ensemble lead by Richard
Amoroso. To suggest that they are a somewhat unusual ensemble for playing
classical music would itself be somewhat unusual. Maestro Amoroso is not only
the leader of the group but the chief arranger and cellist. Other members at
the time of this recording included Ronald Amoroso, classical accordion;
Patrick Mercuri and Regecca Mercuri, mandolin and guitars; Walter Pfeil, harp;
Nick Mastripolito, piano; Nick D’Amico, marimba; John Leitham, string bass; and
Harvey Price, percussion. They are all experienced musicians who either perform
regularly in major symphony orchestras or teach music at major universities or
both. So, of course, they perform well. It’s just that their blend of
instruments (cello, accordion, mandolin, guitar, harp, piano, marimba, bass,
and percussion in various combinations) can produce some musical results that
are a little odd.

Fortunately, they don’t call themselves the
tongue-in-cheek “Not-So-Classical Chamber Ensemble” for nothing. While their
sound seems better suited to pop music, their enthusiasm, gusto, and pure
musicianship carry the day. The sound may be a tad quirky for classical music,
but different is not necessarily bad. They are, in fact, quite a lot of fun to
listen to, and they have chosen to perform numbers on this album that
complement their sound and style.

You can judge for yourself the quality of the performances
from the opening track (reproduced below at much lower audio quality), Aram
Khachaturian's "Sabre Dance" from his ballet Gayaneh. Yes, the instrument amalgam produces some bizarre-sounding
results if you're used to hearing this material in symphonic form, but, again
yes, it is definitely a kick to enjoy. The performers sound as they're having
as good a time as the listener, too.

And so it goes through a dozen brief tracks, some no more
than three or four minutes each, which is the only real shortcoming of the
album: it's only about thirty-three minutes long. Still, each item is of
interest for one reason or another. In part this is because of the ingenuity
and creativity of the players, and in part because each item uses a different
arrangement of instruments, from solos to duets to trios to full ensemble.

A good example of the diversity on the program is the
second track, "Nostalgia," by Eloysa Barroso, originally a piano
piece, here arranged by Laurindo Almeida for two guitars. It's sweet and light
and impeccably performed.

Walter Pfeil, formerly the principal harpist with the
Minneapolis, Baltimore, and St. Louis Symphonies, demonstrates his skills in a
solo performance of "Whirlwind" by Carlos Salzedo. It's gorgeous, and
it pretty much stole the show for me.

The album continues through short works by Enrique
Granados ("Orientale - Spanish Dance No. 2"); Pablo de Sarasate
("Zapateado," another showstopper); Sergei Rachmaninov ("Prelude
in G," arranged by Richard Amoroso); and so on.

Among my favorites, besides "Nostalgia": Maurice
Ravel's "Piece in the Form of a Habanera," delightfully transcribed
for cello and harp; George Gershwin's "Prelude II," arranged for
cello and guitar, a wonderfully bluesy little work; and Claude Debussy's
"Girl with the Flaxen Hair," improbably but beautifully transcribed
for cello and accordion.

Finally, for a bit of excitement, we have Schubert's
"The Bee," Rimsky-Korsakov's "Flight of the Bumblebee" and
Zequinha's "Tico Tico." The album presents an unusual assortment of
tunes, as I've said, played on an unusual merging of instruments, yet it works.
I just wish the program were longer.

Producer and engineer Bob Sellman recorded the music for
DTR in 1981 using a direct-to-tape method that involved two Schoeps microphones
and open-reel recording equipment. As a booklet note points out, Sellman used
“no compression, equalization or limiting during its recording or editing. No
splices or edits were made within any pieces.” HDTT remastered the original
tapes in 2013, and I listened to it on an HQCD. The sound is about as realistic
as you're going to find. There's an especially good sense of depth and space
that lends to the illusion of being in the same room or hall with the
performers. There's reasonably good transparency to the midrange, a
well-extended high end, quick transient response, and plenty of air around the
instruments. Never will you hear anything hard, shrill, bright, edgy, or dull.
You may, however, hear a very slight tape noise in the background, but unless
you're playing the music way too loud, you shouldn't notice it.

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 selection from this album, click here:

JJP

Khachaturian: Masquerade Suite (XRCD review)

Also, Kabalevsky: The Comedians. Kiril Kondrashin, RCA Victor Symphony
Orchestra. JVC JM-XR24014.

OK, since nobody seems to be making this particular JVC
remastering available in the U.S. anymore, I’ll make the review brief.

I’ve heard quite a few of JVC’s XRCD audiophile
remasterings over the years, but this is among the only ones for which I have
never had the equivalent standard recording in my collection, so I have no
basis for comparison to tell whether JVC’s very expensive processing of the
master tape is superior to anything else available at regular price. I do know
the album is currently available in RCA’s “Living Stereo” line at about $13.00
(along with Tchaikovsky’s Capriccio
italien and Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio
espagnol), whereas the JVC listed at the original time of its release for
about $35.00. To make matters even more dicey, I notice used copies of the RCA
currently on-line for as little as three bucks. However, if in the past you’ve
heard a difference for the better in JVC XRCD remasters, as I have, perhaps the
search and the costlier investment would be worth it to you. Otherwise, who
knows; I make no promises.

In any case, I was
familiar with Armenian composer Aram Khachaturian’s Masquerade Suite, if not this specific recording of it, and I was very much looking forward to it
here. However, I was also a bit disappointed in it. It had been maybe
twenty-odd years since my last hearing it, and I’d forgotten how very loud and
often bombastic the work could be. This is a matter of taste, of course, but I
also found even the two slow movements, the Nocturne
and Romance, somewhat lacking in
inspiration. I could hardly fault Maestro Kiril Kondrashin and the RCA Victor
Symphony Orchestra for this, however, as they do their job with a splendid
vigor and enthusiasm. To make matters slightly worse, RCA’s 1958 sound didn’t
much impress me, either, remastered or not. The bass seemed plentiful and deep,
to be sure, but the highs appeared a tad too bright and edgy for me.

Then I listened to
the coupling, Russian composer Dimitri Kabalevsky’s The Comedians, and it was an entirely different story. I had never
heard the complete suite before, but by the time I reached the “Comedian’s
Galop,” I realized I’d heard this familiar music time and again without
realizing what it was. The whole piece, ten short movements in all, is
delightful, witty, and invigorating. More important, the composer appears to
have scored The Comedians for a slightly smaller orchestra than Khachaturian’s,
because while RCA recorded both it and the Masquerade
Suite at about the same time, the
sound of The Comedians seems smoother, deeper, and more transparent. In fact, I
found The Comedians, as short as it
is (about fifteen minutes), probably worth the steep asking price of the whole
disc.

Let me put it
another way: If you’ve never heard the two RCA recordings on this disc before,
as I hadn’t, and you’re willing to take a chance, you might consider looking
for the JVC remastering if you have a very high-end system, very deep pockets,
and infinite patience finding it. Or you might try the standard RCA Living
Stereo edition if you have a more-modest system, and you want to be sensible
about things. No matter your choice, you might find the Kabalevsky, especially,
exhilarating and fun under Kondrashin’s direction. I know I did.

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

JJP

Russian Nights (CD review)

Music of Rimsky-Korsakov, Glinka, Prokofiev, Borodin, Tchaikovsky, Liadov,
Moussorgsky, and Khachaturian. Erich Kunzel, Cincinnati Pops. Telarc CD-80657.

Erich Kunzel and the
Cincinnati Pops Orchestra pretty much took over where Arthur Fiedler and the
Boston Pops left off, both conductors and orchestras among the most popular
classical recording artists of all time. Of course, it would have been nice to
hear Kunzel conduct a single piece that lasted more than a few minutes, but,
alas, it would not be on this album, something like his eighty-third Telarc
disc.

This time Kunzel was
doing Russian and Armenian composers, if not purely Russian or Armenian music.
For example, the centerpiece of the album is Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol, which seems a little
strange considering Telarc titled the disc “Russian Nights” and then features a
composition of Spanish-inflected music. Oh, well; I suppose we get the idea.
Almost everything on the disc is familiar territory, and while it is all neat
and tidy, it is oddly flat. The performances seem to lack the last degree of
flair and passion these red-blooded Russian works needed. The album reminded me
that Georg Solti’s old collection of similar Russian showpieces exhibited more
zeal and excitement than Kunzel brings to the table. Then, too, I couldn’t help
thinking of Ataulfo Argenta’s 1956 rendition of the Capriccio Espagnol on a remastered LIM XRCD, a performance so
overwhelmingly powerful and colorful, it was a hard act for Kunzel to follow.

Anyway, here we get
things like Glinka’s Overture to Russlan and Ludmilla, Prokofiev’s March from The Love for Three Oranges, Borodin’s “Polovtsian Dances” from Prince Igor, Tchaikovsky’s “Russian
Dance” from The Nutcracker, and
Moussorgsky’s Polonaise from Boris Godunov. They all sound
appropriately showy, but my favorite pieces were the less flamboyant ones:
Anatol Liadov’s The Enchanted Lake
and The Music Box, and the star
attraction, Aram Khachaturian’s “Love Theme” from the ballet Spartacus. This latter music
demonstrates the disc’s wide dynamic range as well as the music’s wide
emotional range. The sonics are quite spectacular if, as we’ll see, also
problematic.

I began wondering as
I listened to the Khachaturian if the wide dynamic range were not in itself
some of the cause for the music sounding slightly earthbound. One has to turn
the softest passages up in volume to appreciate them, and then the loudest
sections knock you out of your seat. Now, I’m all for a recording displaying a
realistically wide dynamic range, as long as it’s within reason. The result
here, though, is that for the most part, you’re listening at too low a level
and nothing seems to come to life except now and again. Add to this the fact
that the Telarc engineers recorded the whole show in the smoothest possible
manner at a moderate distance, and you don’t quite get the up-front,
in-your-face presentations that these war-horses demand. The fact is, in terms
of replicating a live experience, the wide dynamics would indicate a close-up
seating position, while the smooth, warm response would indicate a greater
distance. The contrast is a tad disconcerting.

Still, the Telarc
disc provides good orchestral depth; good left-to-right stereo spread;
typically good, if slightly overwrought, Telarc bass; some velvety polished
highs; and those wide dynamics I mentioned. It’s almost, if not quite, enough.

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





JJP

Khachaturian: Ballet Suites (CD review)

Gayaneh and Spartacus. Evgeny Svetlanov, Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra. Brilliant Classics 9256.



Much of the music of Soviet-Armenian composer Aram Khachaturian (1903-1978) has always struck me as rather noisy and bombastic, and that includes even his most-popular pieces like the ballets Gayaneh and Spartacus, which on this disc we see represented by a pair of suites. In their entirety the ballets can be a little tiring, so it's more common that we see just highlights such as these.



Khachaturian became one of the giants of music in the Soviet Union, yet like so many of his contemporaries, the Communist Party did not always favor his works. His Cello Concerto of 1946 was so out of line with the traditional guidelines of the Party that shortly thereafter they ousted him from the Composers' Union over it and other things, and it took him a while to regain their favor. Turns out, the Party's official disapproval so affected him, he later said he considered giving up composing and starting some new profession instead.



In any case, his first attempt at a ballet, Shchastye ("Happiness"), in 1939 did not go particularly well so he reworked it into the ballet represented here, Gayaneh, completed in 1942. It's the story of a young Armenian farm woman named Gayaneh. In the original version, Khachaturian had both a love angle and an Armenian national angle, but he later figured it best to go with the just the romance, adding local color with Armenian and Central Asian folk tunes. Because the music celebrated the friendships among the varied peoples of the Soviet Union, the Party leaders liked it. Afterwards, he finished Spartacus in 1954, the Soviet leaders pleased that he had chosen a "hero of the Proletariat," the Roman slave who led an uprising against the oppressive Roman Empire.



Evgeny Svetlanov (1928-2002) was a Russian conductor and composer who became almost as famous as Khachaturian; in fact, he, too, got into trouble with the government, only in Svetlanov's case it was because they said he wasn't spending enough time with the state-sponsored orchestra he led, and they fired him. The conductor made the present recording with the Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra just a year or two before he died, and one couldn't ask for more authoritative performances.



However, as a comparison, I used the EMI recording that Aram Khachaturian himself made with the LSO in 1977, coincidentally just a year or so before he, too, died. Svetlanov, as expected being the old hand he was at such things, holds his own with the composer quite nicely. Indeed, I found Svetlanov more lyrical than Khachaturian in the slower movements and almost as intense in the faster ones. What's more, even though EMI produced a recording of near-demonstration quality, the present Brilliant Classics disc holds its own as well.



Anyway, Svetlanov performs suites from both ballets, Gayaneh containing ten selections, Spartacus five. The composer himself extracted various suites from the ballets, and conductors have been making their own selections for many years now. This one contains most of the music we would easily recognize.



In Gayaneh, the stands-outs include the Lullaby because, of course, it's anything but a traditional "lullaby"; the Adagio, famously used by director Stanley Kubrick in his movie 2001: A Space Odyssey; Lezghinka and Dance with the Tambourines, with their scintillating rhythms; and, naturally, the Sabre Dance, a genuine show-stopper. Interestingly, Khachaturian later said he never cared for the Sabre Dance, writing it in a single evening and considering it something of a joke.



While Spartacus doesn't have quite as much recognizable music in it as that of Gayaneh, it does contain much good material. It may seem surprising but the Spartacus selections offered here are actually more serene than the Gayaneh pieces. Aegina's Dance is especially entrancing, and, again, it's the Adagio that steals the show, beautifully rendered by Svetlanov and his forces.



Recorded in January, 2000, in Moscow, the sound is excellent by any standard, as transparent and dynamic as any audiophile could want. While it's a tad close, it's not so close as to be a major detriment to the music, and only the orchestral depth suffers slightly, not sounding quite as deep or as open as one could wish. There's a nicely extended high end involved, some decent bass, and good transient impact all the way around. It's clean, enjoyable sound.



JJP

Khachaturian: Cello Concerto (CD review)

Also, Concerto-Rhapsody for Cello and Orchestra. Dmitry Yablonsky, cello; Maxim Fedotov, Moscow City Symphony Orchestra. Naxos 8.570463.



Much of the music of Armenian composer-conductor Ayam Khachaturian (1903-1978) seems to me noisy and bombastic, and some of it even at its best, as in the ballets Gayaneh and Spartacus, can be a little tiring. But his Cello Concerto of 1946 was so out of line with the traditional guidelines of the Communist Party that they ousted him from the Composers' Union over it (among other things). I must admit I have never been too fond of the piece myself, although the present recording goes a fair way toward helping to change that opinion.



The first movement of the Cello Concerto is all over the map: It starts out dark and threatening, it lightens up, it gets bouncy, it takes on a Gypsy flair, it turns sinister, then martial, you name it. Khachaturian studied cello for several years while in his early twenties, so he knew the instrument and how best to employ it. Nevertheless, here the cello seems barely able to keep up with the rest of the music. The booklet note tells us that the Cello Concerto never caught on with the public any more than it impressed the Soviet overseers in things musical, the note suggesting that the reason was because Khachaturian used the Concerto to continue "the emotional unease of the wartime Second Symphony" of a few years earlier. Fair enough, especially when one remembers that the public wanted to forget the War as soon as possible.



The slow second movement Andante is quite atmospheric and expressive and sounds as though it might serve as the musical score of a mystery thriller, a film noir perhaps. You just about see John Garfield or Robert Mitchum lurking in the shadows. The mellow sound of Dmitry Yablonsky's cello perfectly complements the mood of the section.



The concluding movement begins in a zippy fashion, with Yablonsky taking great relish in the music's eloquence and bustle. As the tempo continues to build, the players maintain the momentum of the mounting tension. The piece ends on a high, if not quite fever, pitch.



If the Cello Concerto can sound somewhat harsh and off-putting to some listeners, the composer's Concerto-Rhapsody from 1963 is more approachable.  It is more flowing, more harmonic, more poetic, and more impassioned than the Concerto. It's single, twenty-odd-minute movement contains some lovely passages for the cello and nicely showcases Mr. Yablonsky's virtuosity. The cellist provides all the grace, enthusiasm, and verve the music demands, producing a more-accessible work than the Cello Concerto. Yablonsky, Fedotov, and the Moscow City Symphony Orchestra work impressively together and create a strong degree of spark and sparkle in their music making.



Recorded in 2007, the sound is typical of Naxos's better efforts. It's clear and well balanced, with the cellist placed front and center and the orchestra properly spread out behind him. While there is not the greatest amount of orchestral depth nor the most-extensive transparency involved, it's a reasonably realistic presentation, lacking maybe the last ounce of dynamic range, frequency response, and impact.  The cello itself, however, appears quite natural, and the solo parts stand out exceptionally well.



JJP