Recent Releases, No. 20 (CD Reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

Americascapes: Loeffler: La Mort de Tintagiles, Op. 6; Ruggles: Evocations (Orchestral version, 1943); Hanson: Before the Dawn, Op. 17; Cowell: Variations for Orchestra. Delphine Dupuy, viola d’amore; Robert Trevino, Basque National Orchestra. Ondine ODE 1396-2.

It is always exciting to come across a new release that features a program of unfamiliar music by composers you have heard of although you have heard very little of their music. It is even more exciting when it turns out to be as delightful a disc as this new Ondine release of American music played by a Spanish orchestra led by American conductor Robert Trevino (b. 1984). The program opens with the longest composition (25:48) on the CD, La Mort de Tintagiles by Charles Martin Loeffler (1861-1935). The piece is subtitled Poeme dramatique, d’apres le drame de M. Maeterlinck (“dramatic poem after the drama by M. Maeterlinck”). Loeffler, by the way, was actually born in Berlin, but settled in the United States in 1982, joining the recently formed Boston Symphony Orchestra as a violinist and becoming an American citizen in 1887. According to the liner notes by noted music critic Tim Page, “Loeffler seems to have had a fondness for near-concertos… In The Death of Tintagiles (1897), presented here, the viola d’amore takes center stage. Tintagiles is a discursive tone poem, inspired by a very strange play for marionettes by Maurice Maeterlinck about a wicked queen who murders an entire family, one by one. It is orchestrated in a manner that is both brilliant and subdued -- imagine Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherezade as it might have been rewritten by Gabriel Faure and you’ll have the general idea.” I must admit that it is hard to imagine that this charming music has anything to do with a family being murdered. Although there are some dramatic moments punctuated by some whacks on the bass drum, for the most part the music is lovely and flowing. And for me, although the lovely sound of the viola d’amore (a stringed instrument about the size of a viola, but with six bowed strings plus additional sympathetic strings arrayed below them) does take the lead from time to time, to describe this piece as a “near-concerto” seems to be quite a stretch. In any event, it is an attractive piece that gets the program off to an engaging start.

Next up is the orchestral version (a solo piano version also exists, which Ruggles continued to revise from 1934 to 1953) of Evocations by Carl Ruggles (1876-1971), whom Page characterizes as “notoriously salty.” Classical music fans of a certain age probably best remember Ruggles – at least by name – from an old DG recording featuring a young Michael Tilson Thomas leading the Boston Symphony Orchestra in a program that included Ruggles’s intriguingly titled composition Sun Treader along with Three Places in New England by Charles Ives. I can’t imagine that LP was ever a big seller, but for a time I could swear I seemed to see it everywhere I went. Perhaps the striking cover prompted record stores (remember them?) to display it prominently. At any rate, Evocations is a short piece (10:13) in four brief movements, sounding more modern than the Loeffler – chunky, assertive, enigmatic perhaps (particularly the ambiguous, atonal ending) but no, not salty. Mildly challenging though it might be, Evocations remains quite listenable and ultimately enjoyable, fully worthy of its place in the program.

Then comes the world premiere recording of a brief (6:44) symphonic poem by a young Howard Hanson (1896-1981) titled Before the Dawn, which he composed in 1921. Following the atonal, ambiguous-sounding ending of the Ruggles piece, the opening measures of Before the Dawn offer a striking a change of mood, immediately giving off that lush, sweeping, romantic, what strikes these ears anyway as “movie soundtrack vibe” that characterizes much of Hanson’s orchestral output. I do not mean that as snarky criticism; in fact, I find much of his music –including Before the Dawn �– highly enjoyable, but Hanson has a signature sound that reminds me of film music – quality film music, that is. I find Page’s summation quite apt: “It seems that Hanson may have considered Before the Dawn juvenilia, for he could certainly have performed and recorded the work had he wanted to. Yet it is engaging from the start, filled with rich melodies, and sumptuously orchestrated in the style that Hanson would make his own over a career that would span six decades.” Amen to that! It is an engaging, sumptuously orchestrated little composition.

As good as the disc has been so far, with three unfamiliar but rewarding pieces expertly performed and recorded, the folks who put this program together have saved the best for last. Variations for Orchestra by Henry Cowell (1897-1965) is a delight from start to finish. The orchestra gets put through its paces, with passages of tender beauty from the strings followed at times by outbursts from the percussion. The music is sometimes exuberant and playful, at other times giving off a hint of mystery. Seemingly everyone in the orchestra gets a chance to shine over the 19:23 duration of the piece, and the Basque forces do themselves proud. It seems hard to believe that in all my years of listening, I have never before encountered a recording of this composition, which can hold its own right up there alongside, for example, Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra. (It has in fact been recorded before, but never by a major ensemble on a major label, and certainly nowhere remotely near the frequency accorded recordings of the Bartok.) This, folks, is a composition to which you really ought to give an audition. Where has it been hiding?

Besides the booklet notes from Tim Page, there are also notes by conductor Robert Trevino. The engineering is first-class, the orchestra plays with finesse, the program is imaginative and rewarding �– what’s not to like? Hats off to a Finnish label for recording a Mexican-American conductor leading a Spanish orchestra in a revealing program of rarely-heard American music deserving much wider recognition. Bravo!

Last Song. Louis Couperin (1626-1661): Unmeasured Prelude (arr. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir & Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir);Atli Heimir Sveinsson (1938-2019): Three Marian Prayers (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714-1787): Melodie (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Jórunn Viðar (1918-2017): Icelandic Suite; Ole Bull (1810-1880) Ensomme Stunde (arr. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir);  Jules Massenet (1842-1912): Meditation; Karólína Eiríksdóttir (b. 1951): Winter; Magnús Blöndal Jóhannsson (1925-2005): In a Dream; Lullaby; Couperin: Aubade Provencale (arr. Fritz Kreisler);  Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643): Ave Maria; Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179): Anima Processional; Una Sveinbjarnardóttir (b. 1975): Last Song before the News. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir, violin; Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir, piano, prepared piano, toy piano. Sono Luminus DSL-92248.

Well, I see no need to beat around the bush on this one. I could easily make this review shorter than the listing of compositions above by simply stating that Last Song is the finest, most entertaining, thoughtfully assembled, artfully performed, and skillfully engineered recording of music for violin and piano that I have heard in many years. But because I get paid by the word, I will continue.

I received this CD a few months ago but somehow absentmindedly placed it atop a stack of older CDs that have been just sitting there unplayed for quite some time off to the side of my listening room. It was pretty much dumb luck that caused me to notice it sitting there, but as soon as I realized what it was, I felt so guilty and guilty that I immediately stuck it in my CD player without so much as a glance at the program. All I knew is that it was by a couple of Icelandic women, which I could infer from the names on the cover. But as I started listening, I knew this was, despite its rather drab cover, a truly special recording, and I soon dove into the liner notes to see what light they might be able to shed on the players and the program. There are some one-page biographical sketches of both musicians, plus some brief commentary on the composers and music by violinist and composer Una Sveinbjarnardóttir. As you can easily see from the header above, the music spans the centuries and includes compositions both familiar and unfamiliar. Yet from these two skilled musicians, the program feels like an organic, inevitable whole. The occasional use of the prepared and toy piano in place of the normal piano adds variety to the sound, but never sounds as though it is being used as some sort of special effect.

Violinist Sveinbjarnardóttir explains the program in her brief introductory essay: “ Last Song before the News. The project is inspired by the moment before the realization of something that drastically changes your life, the moment of just being, existing in the moment. That moment in time is free and full, mindfulness-ish and unaffected by misery, sorrow, regret, shame, anxiety and depression. In my mind it is bright and has a sense of nostalgia. The title also refers to a daily tradition on Icelandic radio Rás 1, where a song, “last song before the news” would be played just before the news hour at noon. The song would typically be an Icelandic one, sometimes a lullaby, a love song or an ode to scary and gorgeous nature. Or an Icelandic traditional, sometimes an Italian canzone or a Scandinavian sorrow. Jórunn Viðar’s piece Icelandic Suite sums up all these elements, a piece written for the 2000 years anniversary of inhabitation in Iceland in 1974. The lightness and the longing are with us throughout the program except in the title piece of mine, Last Song before the News, where apocalyptic visions are awfully obvious and take over early on.”

Just to be clear, no, I don’t actually get paid by the word. I was just being silly. In fact, I don’t get paid at all. But when I say this is a remarkable recording, well, you can take that to the bank.

The News: Andrew Cyrille Quartet (Andrew Cyrille, drums; Bill Frisell, guitar; David Virelles, piano, synthesizer; Ben Street, double bass). ECM 2681.

Veteran drummer Andrew Cyrille plays with a delicate touch that sets the tone for this talented quartet, who make a strong case on this recording for the idea of jazz as a form of chamber music. Guitarist Frisell brings a similarly light touch to his guitar stylings, playing with his usual loopy lines but with a lighter, softer tone than usual. All four musicians seem to be listening closely to each other, striving to play harmoniously together. Those looking for solo fireworks will not find them here; rather, they will find creative interplay. One piece that stands out as different from the rest is the title cut, “The News,” which sounds restless, unsettled, and aggressive – and then a few brief spoken words by Cyrille put everything in context. I won’t spoil the surprise; you’ll have to listen for yourself to see what I mean. The title of another cut seems to describe perfectly the vibe of the album as a whole: “Dance of the Nuances.”

KWN

Massenet: Ballet Music (XRCD24/K2 review)

Le Cid. Also, Scenes Pittoresques; The Last Sleep of the Virgin; Offenbach: La Belle Helene; Berlioz: Dance of the Sylphs; Minuet of the Will-O’-the-Wisps. Louis Fremaux, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. Klavier/JVC VICJ-035-1107.

By John J. Puccio

To be honest, I don’t think audio recording has improved all that much since the introduction of home stereo almost seventy years ago. Sure, there have been some big changes, like Dolby noise reduction and digital engineering, but they haven’t always resulted in actual improvements. The real improvements have come in mastering techniques, transferring original recordings to LP, CD, SACD, or download. Here is where a number of companies over the years came up with unique strategies to perfect the art. In the old vinyl days, Sheffield Labs, for instance, had their direct to disc masters, and Mobile Fidelity had their half-speed remasters. Then came the digital age, and audiophile companies had to come up with other ploys to justify their existence. One tactic that Sheffield, Mo-Fi, and other companies employed was using the gold disc. The companies claimed that gold was better than silver for producing more precise, uniform pits for a CD laser to read, thus generating a more precise audio image. I almost always found that the gold products I reviewed did, indeed, sound better than their silver counterparts, usually appearing smoother and better detailed. Still, I always concluded my reviews of gold discs with the caution that I could never actually tell if the audio upgrade was the result of the disc’s gold plating or the result of better, more-careful remastering. So, now, with this Massenet disc, I had the chance to compare a well-made gold disc with a JVC XRCD24 remastering on silver, both made from the same master tapes.

My conclusions on the audio issue come at the end of the review, but first I’ll add a little something about the disc’s contents. The original EMI LP of Massenet’s Le Cid ballet music found its way to my attention quite by accident a couple of years after EMI made it back in 1971. You see, in the mid Seventies I was compiling a list of favorite audiophile records for a magazine article, and I had asked every music and audio lover I knew for their recommendations. Everybody contributed, from high-end audio dealers, audio engineers, and record and equipment reviewers to various friends professing “golden ears,” about thirty people in all. As you may have already guessed, this recording of Le Cid figured high in the final tally. It not only contained a great performance of the music, it sounded state-of-the-art.

As luck would have it, though, by the time I tried to buy the recording, EMI had already withdrawn their Studio Two vinyl disc that everybody loved so well and replaced it with a lower-priced issue in their Greensleeves line. Fortunately, it was still plenty good, with a tremendous dynamic range and a whopping big bass. The next time it showed up on LP in America was on the Klavier label. Then came the CD age, and it appeared both in EMI’s mid-priced Studio line and on a Klavier silver disc. The EMI release retained the vinyl’s warmth, but the slightly leaner-sounding Klavier disc seemed a bit more transparent. Then Klavier issued the recording on a 24-karat gold-plated disc that I eagerly sought out and still own. Unfortunately, Klavier didn’t keep it around for long, and today it’s rather hard to find and costly if you do find it. Ditto for their later XRCD24 silver disc.

The music on the album comprises bits and pieces of the orchestral score in Massenet’s opera, namely the second-act ballet, and conductor Fremaux and his Birmingham orchestra provide a vigorous, zesty rendition of the Spanish-flavored tunes. The story of the opera, of course, is based on Spain’s legendary hero, Rodrigo de Bivar, or “El Cid” (from the Arabic “Al Sid” or “Lord”) who in the eleventh century reclaimed the city of Valencia from the Moors and became the hero of one of Spain’s most significant medieval epic poems. Massenet’s music, which premiered in 1885, is tuneful, exciting, and highly Romantic by turns, and Maestro Fremaux provides it with exactly the zesty and exciting performance it needs. The disc’s accompanying music by Berlioz and Offenbach is equally well presented.

Producers David Mottley and Brian Culverhouse and engineers Stuart Eltham and Neville Boyling recorded the music for EMI Studio Two (the Le Cid music in 1971, as I said), and EMI originally released the vinyl LP in both two-channel stereo and four-channel Quadraphonic. Not long after, Klavier released the recording on LP and then later on silver disc. In 1994 engineer Bruce Leek remastered the original tapes for a Klavier gold disc, and some years after that JVC (Victor Company of Japan) remastered it once more, again for Klavier, this time using their meticulous XRCD24/K2 mastering and manufacturing processes, using JVC’s original analog mastering console, 24-bit K2 A/D converter, digital K2 interface, K2 rubidium master clock, and K2 laser cutter.

So, getting back to that question we started with: Which sounds better, the gold disc or the XRCD24 silver disc? Now, here’s the thing: I love the gold disc. It retained all the warmth of the LP that I remembered and with greater impact and definition than the ordinary compact disc. Consequently, I was eager to compare the gold disc to JVC’s XRCD24 silver transfer. Putting them into separate CD players and adjusting for a slight volume imbalance (the JVC plays about two decibels louder), I started switching back and forth. My findings were rather what I had expected. JVC’s silver disc was slightly more dynamic and exhibited slightly more transparency. By comparison, the gold disc sounded marginally smoother but softer. This is not, however, to say that the JVC transfer was brighter or edgier than the gold. Indeed, without the direct comparison, one would not even have considered such a thing. What was clear to me more than anything, though, was that the XRCD24/K2 silver disc seemed to have greater impact than the gold disc, something the original LP had in abundance.

Which still leaves me wondering whether it is gold plating that makes a difference in better sound or simply better remastering techniques. After this experience, though, I’m leaning more than ever on the idea of better mastering.

And what would the difference be between this XRCD24 on silver and the same XRCD24 on gold? I suspect no difference at all, but I doubt that we’ll ever find out.

JJP

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

Escales: French Orchestral Works (SACD review)

Music of Chabrier, Durufle, Saint-Saens, Debussy, Ibert, Massenet, and Ravel. John Wilson, Sinfonia of London. Chandos CHSA 5252.



The last few times I reviewed albums from conductor John Wilson, he was conducting the BBC Philharmonic in music of Aaron Copland; and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic in the music of John Ireland; and his own John Wilson Orchestra in the music of Cole Porter and Rodgers and Hammerstein. Now he's back, this time at the helm of the reconstituted Sinfonia of London, an on-and-off-and-on-again session ensemble originally formed in 1955. Whatever, Escales is an ebullient romp from Maestro Wilson and his players through several well-known (and some less well-known) French light pieces.



The program begins with the ever-popular Espana by Emmanuel Chabrier (1841-1894), the composer's French take on all things Spanish. Wilson gives us a sparkling presentation of Chabrier's colorful music, yet with few surprises. It's a well-crafted performance without offering much we haven't heard before.



The next two items are not quite as famous: Trois Danses by Maurice Durufle (1902-1986) and Le Rouet d'Omphale by Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921). The Durufle piece comes through quite well, perhaps helped by the fact that there aren't too many previous recordings with which to compare it. Wilson handles the dynamic contrasts and tonal shadings smoothly, the second, slow dance standing out. "The Spinning Wheel of Omphale" is a piece Saint-Saens based on a Greek legend, and Wilson does a good job helping it come alive for us in highly descriptive fashion.



Following them is the perennial hit Prelude a L'apres-midi d'un faune by Claude Debussy (1862-1918). "The Prelude to an Afternoon of the Fawn" is probably as renowned as the composer's La Mer. It is the most atmospheric work on the disc, and the listener probably already has multiple versions of it. Still, its sinuous moods can be captivating, even if Wilson's interpretation brings little that's new to the table.

John Wilson

Then there's the album's title music, Escales ("Ports of Call"), by Jacques Ibert (1890-1962). Each of its three sections evokes the sounds and flavor of a different location: Sicily, Tunisia, and Valencia. These were my favorite pieces, with Wilson recreating the sensations of the three locales vividly



The program wraps up with two prominent numbers, the "Meditation" from Thais by Jules Massenet (1842-1912) and Rapsodie espagnole by Maurice Ravel (1875-1937). The beauty of the "Meditation" never grows old, and while Wilson's rendering may not be as delicately wrought as some others, it effectively communicates the composer's expression of serenity and sensuality. The Ravel piece seems appropriate as it bookends the agenda with another French composer's idea of Spain. Wilson gives it fair due.



In sum, although John Wilson's take on this celebrated music breaks no new ground, everything is enthusiastically presented and meticulously performed. There is also enough variety in the selections to please most listeners and perhaps even to uncover a hidden gem or two the listener had not heard before. Fair enough.



Producer Brian Pidgeon and engineer Ralph Couzens recorded the music at the Church of St. Augustine, Kilburn, London in January and September, 2019. They recorded it for playback via hybrid SACD 2-channel and multichannel or regular CD 2-channel. As usual, I listened in SACD 2-channel via a Sony SACD player.



A mild hall resonance tells us where we are, and it's not unpleasant. Dynamics are good, with adequate impact for the big numbers like the Chabrier. Orchestral depth, too, is sufficient, though not entirely audiophile. While ultimate transparency is merely OK, the sound does project a reasonably lifelike presence. In other words, it's good, modern digital sound with a fairly well balanced frequency response, the kind of sound we're used to getting from Chandos.



JJP



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

French Cello Concertos (CD review)

Saint-Saens, Lalo, Milhaud, Offenbach, Massenet. Hee-Young Lim, cello; Scott Yoo, London Symphony Orchestra. Sony Classical S80425C.



Her current recording, "French Cello Concertos," is the debut album for Korean cellist Hee-Young Lim, who has made quite a name for herself in the past few years. Not only has she won major international competitions, she is Principal Solo Cellist of the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra and the first Korean cello professor at the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing. She tours as a soloist and recitalist and performs with the world's leading orchestras. It's no wonder, then, that so big and prestigious a record label as Sony Classical wanted to promote her first release.



Supported by conductor Scott Yoo and the London Symphony Orchestra, Ms. Lim performs five well-known cello pieces by French composers: Saint-Saens, Lalo, Milhaud, Offenbach, and Massenet. Not that there is exactly a surplus of cello concertos to play, though. The poor cello, a descendent of the bass violin, didn't find a serious place for itself until well into the Baroque period, and even then it held a limited position. Bach wrote his six cello suites, of course; later Haydn wrote a couple of cello concertos and Beethoven a few cello sonatas. Yet it wasn't until the later Romantic period that the cello began to flourish, with Schumann, Dvorak, and Brahms writing concertos for it. Then, the twentieth century saw a greater blossoming of material for the instrument. Anyway, the major attraction here, Saint-Saens's cello concerto, came somewhat late in the Romantic era, 1872, by which time the cello had firmly established itself as a commonly accepted part of the orchestral picture.



So, the first thing up is the Concerto for Violin and Orchestra No. 1 in A by Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921). Written in one continuous movement split into three separate sections with interrelated ideas, Saint-Saens's concerto was unconventional for its time. Nevertheless, it became a favorite of cellists and composers everywhere, some of them like Rachmaninov and Shostakovich declaring it the greatest of all cello concertos.

Hee-Young Lim

The concerto keeps the solo instrument in the foreground almost the whole time, and Ms. Lim takes advantage of this situation with playing of steadfast command. Yet unlike so many other soloists, she never tries to dominate the music with the force of her personality. The musical lines are always clean and direct, the passion expressed through the score itself, not her own virtuosity. This is not to say she isn't a marvel to listen to; she is an accomplished musician and the concerto's finale is an amazing whirlwind of notes. But she is also a delicate, introspective musician, and much of her talent is in the nuances of her playing. In other words, while there are more bravura performances you can find, there are none more sensitively committed.



Next, and maybe equally famous, is the Concerto for Cello and Orchestra in d minor by Edouard Lalo (1823-92), which he wrote in 1876. He arranged it in a more traditional style than Saint-Saens did his concerto a few years earlier, and perhaps because of its strong hints of Spanish flamenco music, it gets its fair share of performances and recordings. Ms. Lim takes the first two movements at a slightly more leisurely pace than one often hears, and it adds a sweet tone that complements the nature of this Spanish-influenced French music. It's an elegant reading, full of operatic color and character in its first two movements and a whole lot of zest in its final moments.



After that we find the Cello Concerto No. 1 by Darius Milhaud (1892-1974). Written in 1934, its more modern and jazz-inflected disposition is notably different from that of the more Romantic Saint-Saens and Lalo pieces. Milhaud's work relies less on pure melody and more on displays of seemingly indiscriminate mood swings from lyrical tenderness to somber reflection to a nearly cheerful giddiness. The oddness of the music continues despite a lovely opening stretch that Ms. Lim makes the most of before Milhaud starts going in all directions at once. Give Ms. Lim credit for holding the work together so well and having it come through so engagingly.



Following the three concertos, we get two shorter pieces: Les larmes de Jacqueline ("The Tears of Jacqueline") by Jacques Offenbach (1819-80) and the familiar "Meditation" from the opera Thais by Jules Massenet (1842-1912). They are the icing on the cake and bring the program to a satisfying end.



Producer Michael Fine and engineer Jin Choi recorded the music at Abbey Road Studios, London in July 2018. And what a pleasure it is to hear the London Symphony back recording at Abbey Road, the scene of so many of their previous successes. As I said earlier, the cello is in the forefront of the musical activity, which is, I suppose, the way it ought to be. In any case, the sound is precise, well defined, solid, and robust. The cello carries plenty of weight and makes a firm impression on the ear. The orchestra is almost secondary, but it, too, sounds splendid, with clean detailing, strong dynamics, and a realistic sense of presence. In fact, the sound of the LSO reminded me a lot of the sound of their EMI recordings of the late Sixties and Seventies, and that is high praise, indeed.



JJP



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

Saint-Saens, Ravel, Gershwin: Piano Concertos (CD review)

Andrew von Oeyen, piano; Emmanuel Villaume, PKF-Prague Philharmonia. Warner Classics 01 90295 90848 5.



The first question you might ask about this album is why it contains such seemingly disparate composers as Saint-Saens, Ravel, and Gershwin on the same program. The answer, of course, is that the agenda is not so unusual as you might think. Not only did all three men write piano concertos, but they all in some way or another influenced each another. In particular, Saint-Saens influenced Ravel, and Ravel and Gershwin influenced the other. Besides, the soloist for the album, Andrew von Oeyen, is an American now living in Paris, who says he has fallen in love with French music. Fair enough.



The second question you might ask is, Who is Andrew von Oeyen? He's an American concert pianist, born in 1979, who here makes his piano-and-orchestra debut recording after releasing several solo discs. He began playing the piano at age five and made his first stage appearance at age ten. By age sixteen he was playing with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and after further studies at Juilliard and Columbia University and wins in several important piano competitions, his career was well on its way. The present disc marks his first release for Warner Classics, with accompaniment by Emmanuel Villaume and the PKF-Prague Philharmonia.



The opening piece on the program is the Piano Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 22, by the French composer Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921). He wrote it in 1868, and it remains among the most-popular of his five piano concertos. Oddly for a modern concerto, Saint-Saens begins his work with a relatively slow movement, followed by a faster second movement that resembles a scherzo, and finishes with a very quick Presto. These mercurial tempo changes prompted the Polish pianist and composer Zygmunt Stojowski to joke that the piece "begins with Bach and ends with Offenbach."



There is no doubting von Oeyen's intensity from the start as he gives every indication that he wants to get our attention. He varies the contrasts about as much as I've ever heard, making the opening movement more balky than ever. Which is neither here nor there; just more emphatic. The second movement is cheerful and bouncy enough, and if anything the orchestra carries it though as much as Mr. von Oeyen. Then in the finale, von Oeyen goes full bore with an all-out assault on the score, sounding exciting enough if a bit too studied for my taste.

Andrew von Oeyen

Next, we hear the Piano Concerto in G Major by French composer Maurice Ravel (1875-1937). He wrote it between 1929 and 1931 after a concert tour of the United States. Its most notable feature is the use of American jazz idioms, which Ravel probably picked up from Gershwin, whose Rhapsody in Blue appeared several years earlier.



I rather enjoyed von Oeyen's Ravel more than his Saint-Saens, which tended toward a want of charm. Maybe it's the combination of American and French expressive styles that suits the pianist. Still, when one has spent years as I have listening to Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli (EMI/Warner) play the piece, it's hard to find comfort in anyone else's interpretation. By comparison, von Oeyen never quite displays the imagination or creates the atmosphere that Michelangeli does. Nevertheless, my own quibbles should not distract the listener from enjoying von Oeyen's approach, which is more straightforward yet still jazzy enough to satisfy almost anyone. Additionally, von Oeyen offers us a particularly sensitive slow movement that in itself may be enough to sell the disc.



After that we find the Second Rhapsody by American composer George Gershwin (1898-1937). Here, some folks might quibble about whether the piece is a real piano concerto at all, but I would remind them that by definition a modern concerto is "a composition for orchestra and a solo instrument" (Harvard Concise Dictionary of Music). Gershwin's Second Rhapsody fits the bill. He wrote it for the 1931 Hollywood movie Delicious, on which both he and his brother Ira worked. Initially, Gershwin (and/or the studio) called this particular musical sequence Manhattan Rhapsody, New York Rhapsody, and Rhapsody in Rivets. Shortly afterwards, Gershwin more fully orchestrated it for concert use, titling it the Second Rhapsody. Although other people later reorchestrated the music (most notably Robert McBride some fourteen years after the composer's death), Mr. von Oeyen here plays the original 1931 version.



Following the pattern of getting better as we go along on the disc, Von Oeyen does a splendid job conveying the hustle and bustle of Gershwin's big city. His virtuosity seems always at the service of the music rather than simply drawing attention to itself. What's more, Maestro's Villaume's orchestral accompaniment keeps the rhythms on track and the musical impulses moving forward in suitable agreement. There are no awkward convolutions here, just a polished and stimulating tone picture.



The program concludes with a "bonus track": the Meditation from Jules Massenet's Thais, transcribed for solo piano by Mr. von Oeyen and bringing the total recorded music on the disc to over sixty-six minutes. For me, this was the highlight of the album, a hushed and heartfelt rendition that never lapses into teary-eyed mawkishness.



Producer and editor Christopher Alder and engineer Jakub Hadraba recorded the album at Studio 1, Czech Radio, Prague, Czech Republic in August 2015. The piano sounds solid and well placed from the start, if a mite wide, and the tone rings true. When the orchestra enters in the first movement of the Saint-Saens, it appears dynamic, full, and resonant, if not particularly deep or transparent. While strings sound a touch shrill and fuzzy at times, the overall effect is one of soft warmth rather than forward  brightness (or ultimate clarity).



JJP



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

Overtures & Intermezzi (CD review)

Anne-Sophie Mutter, violin; Herbert von Karajan, Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. EMI 7243 5 74764 2 3.



While many other classical record companies had cut back severely on their output or curtailed production altogether in the early 2000's, it was reassuring to see EMI maintaining a healthy monthly release schedule of new and reissued material. Of course, the company would finally turn over its catalogue to Warner Classics, but in this case, their reissued stuff was among the best there was. Now, Warner Classics have made this 2003 reissue available on their own label, although you can still get it new on the older EMI label if you look around for it.



Anyway, the album in question is all about Maestro Herbert von Karajan, who did most of his recording during the Sixties, Seventies, and Eighties with DG but always keep his ties open with EMI, having signed a contract with them all the way back in the Forties. He continued working with EMI almost exclusively through the Fifties and sporadically thereafter. While the earliest overtures and intermezzi contained on this album derive from 1960 and 1976, most of it is from the early 80's.

Herbert von Karajan

The items include Johann Strauss's Gypsy Baron Overture, Massenet's "Meditation" from Thais, Cherubini's Anacreon Overture, Weber's Der Freischutz Overture, Schmidt's Notre Dame Intermezzo, Puccini's Suor Angelica and Manon Lescaut Intermezzi, Mascagni's L'amico Fritz Intermezzo, Humperdink's Hansel und Gretel Overture, and Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture.



As usual, Karajan played them with his somewhat Romantic, glamorous, grandiose touch, the thematic qualities of the music sometimes playing second fiddle to the sheer beauty of the sound. It's what Karajan did best and why he was one of the most-popular conductors of his time. With bits like Anne-Sophie Mutter playing the violin in Thais, the old magic returning in Hansel und Gretel, and the Berlin Philharmonic at their peak, the collection remains a surefire crowd-pleaser.



EMI's sound for Karajan and the BPO is less warm, less padded, and less congested than what we often heard from the same ensemble on DG. Instead, the EMI sound is slightly bright, fairly open, and reasonably transparent. Surprisingly, perhaps, I found the oldest recording on the disc sounding the best, the 1960 rendering of Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture. To my ears it is the most realistically ambient, with its stereo spread the widest, its depth of image the most noticeable, and its resonant hall sonics the most clearly captured. And as with almost all newer remasterings, there is virtually no background noise to contend with and no appreciable loss of high end. In all, then, this is a pleasant collection.



JJP



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

Sarasate: Carmen-Fantasie (SACD review)

Also, Sarasate: Zigeunerweisen; Tartini: "Devil's Trill"; Ravel: Tzigane, Massenet: "Meditation"; Faure: Berceuse. Anne-Sophie Mutter, violin; James Levine, Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. DG 00289 477 5721.



When SACD came out in 1999, any number of record companies jumped on it, many of them in an effort to repackage some of their older material in the new format. Hybrid Super Audio Compact Discs have, after all, the potential for reproducing multiple channels, not just two channels like regular CDs and, because of their greater storage capacity, reproduce things on the SACD layer in what is theoretically better sound. The discs, as you know, have several layers, enabling them, for instance, to include multitrack SACD recordings and two-channel SACD recordings on a high-density layer and conventional two-channel CD recordings on a separate layer. Such is the case with this 2005 DG release of Anne-Sophie Mutter, James Levine, and the Vienna Philharmonic playing, among other things, Pablo de Sarasate's Carmen-Fantasie.



DG initially made the recording in 1992, issuing it in 1993 only on CD in regular two-track stereo. But with the advent of SACD, the company went back into the vaults for the original multichannel tracks and transferred them to this hybrid surround-sound SACD, along with SACD stereo and CD stereo versions as well. But first, the music.



Ms. Mutter was a child prodigy who proved herself one of the world's foremost violinists. While she usually tackles things heavier than the material on this disc, it's a pleasure to hear her let her hair down, so to speak. The Carmen-Fantasie is delightful, as are the other popular favorites that accompany it: Sarasate's Zigeunerweisen, Tartini's "Devil's Trill," Ravel's Tzigane, Massenet's "Meditation" from Thais, and Faure's Berceuse. Although Ms. Mutter's account of the Sarasate piece may not display the all-out thrills of Ruggiero Ricci's famous recording with Pierino Gamba and the LSO on Decca (and remastered on JVC), it offers the elegant, refined playing that we have come to expect from her.

Anne-Sophie Mutter

The only minor snag for some listener's may be DG's actual sound; not the multiple channels (I listened only to the SACD two-channel layer from a Sony SACD player) or the possibly improved SACD audio quality, mind you, but the closeness of the miking. I can't remember hearing a more closely miked DG recording in my life. Combined with a very high output level and some extremely wide dynamics, the disc practically blows you out of your seat until you can run and adjust the volume. Even then, there is no getting around the closeness of the violin. However, this said, I have seldom heard a DG recording with more clarity and definition, either, so maybe there is compensation in all things, as Emerson said. The sonics may not be entirely natural, but they do carry an impact. Unfortunately, the impact comes mainly in the violin parts, because the orchestra sometimes gets lost in the background; nor is there much deep bass response to remind us that they are there.



Be that as it may, these are beautiful performances by a totally committed and assured artist, and the Vienna Philharmonic is still one of the world's great ensembles. If I still prefer the accounts of the Carmen-Fantasie by Itzhak Perlman on EMI (coupled with an equally good Paganini Violin Concerto) and with the aforementioned Ricci, it is only because I have enjoyed their recordings for many years and find them comfortable old friends. However, if you have an SACD player, the fun of experimenting with the various modes may be half your entertainment. Whichever way you play the Mutter disc, you'll hear a great violinist enjoying herself with some familiar old chestnuts.



JJP



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

Massenet: Le Cid, Ballet Music (CD review)

Also, Scenes pittoresques; Saint-Saens: The Swan; Wedding Cake. Louis Fremaux, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. EMI Classics 7243 5 75871 2.



This Le Cid ballet music recording from Louis Fremaux and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (England) brings back a lot of memories. Recorded in 1971 for EMI's Studio Two line, it found its way to my attention quite by accident a couple of years after EMI made it. Back in the mid Seventies I was compiling a list of favorite audiophile records for a magazine article, and I had asked everyone I knew for their recommendations. Everybody contributed: high-end audio dealers, audio engineers, record and equipment reviewers, and various "golden ears," about thirty people in all. As you may have already guessed, this recording of Le Cid figured high in the final tally. It not only contained a great performance of the music, it sounded state-of-the-art.



As luck would have it, though, by the time I tried to buy the recording, EMI had already withdrawn the original Studio Two vinyl disc, replacing it with a low-priced issue in their Greensleeves line. It was still plenty good, with a tremendous dynamic range and a whopping big bass. And the next time it showed up on LP in America was on the Klavier label. Then came the CD age, and it appeared both in EMI's mid-priced Studio line and on a Klavier silver disc. The EMI release retained the vinyl's warmth, but the slightly leaner-sounding Klavier disc sounded more transparent. Then Klavier issued the recording on a 24-karat gold-plated disc that I eagerly brought and still own. Unfortunately, Klavier didn't keep it around for long, and today it's rather hard to find and costly if you do find it. However, the budget-priced EMI Classics edition under review came out in 2003 and to me sounded identical to the earlier EMI Studio CD transfer, which I had always liked.



In any case, it appears that one can still easily find the EMI budget disc, and for the measly few bucks it costs, any listener interested in good sound and good music might want to consider it. The ballet music comprises bits and pieces of the orchestral music in Massenet's opera, and conductor Fremaux and his Birmingham orchestra provide a vigorous, zesty tableau of the Spanish-flavored tunes.



In addition, you'll find on the disc Massenet's Scenes pittoresques and Last Sleep of the Virgin, plus Saint-Saens' "The Swan" from The Carnival of the Animals and his Allegro appasionato, Caprice for Violin and Orchestra, Le Deluge prelude, and Wedding Cake waltz, the former pieces with Paul Tortelier on cello and Yan Pascal Tortelier on violin. In sound that is still demonstration worthy, especially in the El Cid music, the disc qualifies as a unique bargain.



JJP



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

Massenet: Ballet Music (CD review)

Ballet music from
Bacchus, Herodiade, Thais, and Le Cid. Patrick Gallois, Barcelona Symphony
Orchestra. Naxos 8.573123.

You can’t say you don’t get your money’s worth with this
disc. It doesn’t contain just two or three ballet suites from Massenet operas
but four. The material totals about seventy-eight minutes of music, close to
the limit of a standard CD.

It’s interesting, too, that some composers can write a ton
of music and years later people remember them for only a handful of things, if
they remember them at all. That is the case with French composer Jules Massenet
(1842-1912), who wrote a slew of operas popular in his day, most of them soon
going out of style. Today, we still hear the occasional performance of Werther, Thais, or Manon, and
that’s about it. Except for the ballet suites from several of his operas, which
we have on the present disc. These purely orchestral works continue to
fascinate listeners, as demonstrated here by Maestro Patrick Gallois and the
Barcelona Symphony Orchestra.

First up on the program is a suite of ten ballet items
from Bacchus, which the composer
premiered in Paris in 1909. The music contains romance and adventure in
abundance, and Maestro Gallois very competently conjures up all the right
ingredients. He is especially persuasive in the love interludes, the sometimes
solemn, sometimes playful Initiation
scenes, and the final Bacchanale, the
latter particularly energetic.

Next is a suite of five ballet selections from Herodiade, which opened in 1881, telling
the story of King Herod, his brother's widow, Salome, and John the Baptist.
What we get in the suite are exotic dances by girls from Egypt, Babylon, Gaul,
and Phoenicia, followed by a melodramatic finale. Gallois keeps it flowing
charmingly, even though the music is rather lightweight in nature. Gallois
plays up the lush Romanticism of the score and gives us a thrilling conclusion.

After that is a suite of ten ballet numbers from Thais, first performed in 1884, numbers
that Massenet added later. The most-famous tune in the opera, of course, is the
Act II intermezzo, the Meditation,
which, unfortunately, is not a part of the ballet music. The actual ballet
selections are some fairly somber pieces, although it offers more variety than
the Herodiade ballet selections,
Gallois pointing up both the lyricism and the agitation of the score in equal
measure. There is remarkable zip and bounce to the conductor's style, making
the music as comfortable in listening to it as it is probably to watch on stage.

The final selection is a suite of seven ballet selections
from the opera Le Cid, which Massenet
premiered in 1885. He based the story on the legendary “El Cid Campeador”
(Rodrigo D#az de
Bivar), c.1040–99, the Spanish soldier and hero of the wars against the Moors.
The ballet has become the most popular part of the music. If I think this
ballet suite is the best thing on the disc, it's probably because I've always
thought it was some the most underrated music in the classical field. Massenet
captures the spirit of Spain as well as the spirit of the score's heroics, and
Gallois communicates it as well as anybody. Well, almost anybody. I still
prefer Louis Fremaux's performance with the City of Birmingham Symphony
Orchestra (EMI or Klavier), but that's a truly audiophile recording and  neither here nor there. Gallois has the
measure of the music and gives us a nicely drawn, deliciously flavorful portrait
of the story. You'll find all the color, all the picturesque beauty, and most
of the exuberance these ballet numbers have to offer, and Gallois does it with
subtlety, elegance, and grace. It's a heady combination.

Producer, engineer, and editor Sean Lewis made the
recording at L’Auditori, Pau Casals Hall, Barcelona, Spain in October 2012. So,
how did Mr. Lewis do as practically a one-man show? Pretty well, actually. Too
often in the past Naxos engineers have provided perfectly acceptable if
perfectly bland audio reproduction, usually big and warm and soft. But Lewis
gives us a natural, well-defined sound, with plenty of orchestral depth,
moderate bass and dynamics, and sparkling highs. It's a welcome change from
Naxos's more-ordinary sounding discs and makes for a pleasantly realistic audio
experience.

JJP

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

Massenet: Le Cid, ballet suite (CD review)

Also, Cendrillon,
Thais, ballet suites. Sir Neville Marriner, Academy of St. Martin in the
Fields. Brilliant Classics 94355.

It’s interesting (well, to me) that some composers can
write a ton of music and years later people remember them for only a handful of
things, if they remember them at all. Such is the case with French composer
Jules Massenet (1842-1912), who wrote a slew of popular operas, most of them soon
going out of style. Today, we still hear the occasional performance of Werther, Thais, or Manon, and
that’s about it. Except for the ballet suites from several of his operas, which
we have on the present disc. They continue to entertain in purely orchestral
form, as demonstrated here by Sir Neville Marriner and the Academy of St.
Martin in the Fields.

The first selection is a suite of seven ballet selections
from the opera Le Cid, which Massenet
premiered in 1885. He based the story on the legendary “El Cid Campeador”
(Rodrigo D#az de
Bivar), c.1040–99, Spanish soldier and hero of the wars against the Moors. The
ballet has become the most popular part of the music.

Anyway, Marriner has always been an elegant conductors and
his Academy of St. Martin in the Fields a refined of orchestra; it’s no
accident that their performance of the Le
Cid music demonstrates these qualities clearly, from the bracing opening
number, Castillane, to the more
leisurely Andalouse to the stately Aragonaise to the lovely Madrilene. Nothing seems to ruffle
Marriner’s calm, dignified approach to a score that can sometimes get a tad
raucous in its exuberance.

Massenet premiered Cendrillon
(Cinderella) in 1899, and it contains
all of the magic of the fairy tale. Moreover, under Marriner it delivers that
magic fluently, graciously, and delightfully.

With Thais,
first performed in 1884, Massenet added the ballet numbers later. The big tune
we usually hear nowadays, of course, is the Act II entr’acte, the “Meditation,”
which, unfortunately, is not a part of the ballet music. Instead, we get some
fairly somber pieces that Marriner nevertheless manages to bring to life with a
generous enthusiasm and spirit. Although neither the Cendrillon nor Thais
ballet sequence is as creative, colorful, or characterful as that of Le Cid, they make splendid couplings.

The value of the album is having all three of Massenet’s
ballet suites together in one place, performed and recorded extraordinarily
well. It’s almost a no-brainer.

Marriner and the ASMF originally recorded the music for
the Capriccio label at the Church of St. Jude on the Hill, London, in 1994, and
the folks at Brilliant Classics made their own transfer in 2012. The sound is
excellent, and I have no hesitation recommending it. The only “however” I would
add is that in the early Seventies Louis Fremaux recorded the Le Cid ballet music with the City of
Birmingham Symphony Orchestra for EMI with sound of demonstration quality. More
important, one can still find it on a budget-priced EMI as well as a
now-deleted but apparently still available American Klavier disc. My own copy
is virtually impossible to find anymore, being a gold disc that Klavier offered
for only a short time. While the Brilliant Classics sound is, as I say,
excellent, switching to the gold Klavier moves us into an entirely different
sound world altogether, with greater impact, deeper bass, and even more
pronounced midrange clarity.

But I’m not here to sell you on an unavailable audiophile
disc; I’m here to describe the Marriner album, which is still superior to most
of what gets produced anymore. The Brilliant Classics disc displays a modest
stereo spread and a realistic sense of orchestral depth, with a wide dynamic
range, good bass and treble extension, plenty of air around the instruments,
reasonably good transparency, and a soft, warm hall ambience. It should not
disappoint most listeners.

JJP