Recent Releases No. 45 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring 

Vaughan Williams: Symphony No. 7 (“Sinfonia Antartica”); Symphony No. 9 in E minor. Elizabeth Watts, soprano, BBC Symphony Chorus; BBC Symphony Orchestra, Martyn Brabbins, conductor. Hyperion CDA68405

Many classical music fans, or at least those conversant with the music of the composer Ralph Vaughan Williams, know that his Symphony No. 7 (“Sinfonia Antartica”) grew out of music that he had composed for the film Scott of the Antarctic, which portrayed the ill-fated South Pole expedition of Royal Navy officer Captain Robert Scott. On their way back from the Pole in 1912, Scott and all four other members of his party met their frozen deaths. Intrigued by the story, RVW decided to write a symphony based upon some of the themes from the music he had composed for the film. It is a grand and stirring composition full of spectacular sounds, featuring a large orchestra augmented by an organ, a wordless choir, a wordless soprano, gong, bells, glockenspiel, xylophone, piano, celesta, and if that’s not enough to test your stereo system, a wind machine (which on this recording is replaced by the recorded sounds of actual wind – a first in my experience). In addition, literary quotations meant to be spoken aloud were attached to each of the five movements, although many recordings, including this one, omit them. Other recordings, taking advantage of the programmable possibilities of digital media such as the CD, include the spoken sections so listeners can decide whether to listen to them or not for any particular listening session. The Onyx recording led by Andrew Manze that I reviewed previously for Classical Candor of these same RVW symphonies (you can find that review here) put them at the beginning of each movement. 

The engineering team on  this Hyperion release has met the challenge of capturing the power of the assembled forces. From tinkling treble to rumbling bass, the sounds coming from your speakers will bring the cold chill and dark terror of the Antarctic into your listening space as the orchestral forces project a sense of grandeur and the voices and wind noises that come in later in the movement evoke feelings of isolation and fear. The organ rumblings attest to the sheer power and majesty of the bleak, frozen landscape. Brabbins’s interpretation seems at times just a bit smoother than that of Manze, but overall this is still a powerful and dramatic performance and recording of this work. Especially moving is the final movement. Although this recording does not include the spoken introduction, the performance captures the spirit: "I do not regret this journey; we took risks, we knew we took them, things have come out against us, therefore we have no cause for complaint." (from Captain Scott's Last Journal). The movement opens with a drum roll and brass fanfare, perhaps a final  of act of bravado in the face of defeat and death. As the movement continues, the wind and and wordless voices echo once more, the orchestra plays echoes of the symphony's opening theme, and then we hear the soprano, chorus, and wind sounds as the symphony – and Scott’s ill-fated quest – fade to the end. 

 

RVW’s Symphony No. 9 seems to be greatly underappreciated, which is a shame, for it is a marvelous work. The first recording I ever owned the Ninth was an Everest LP (remember Everest? 35mm tape technology subverted by mediocre pressings – not  to mention their often laughable cover art) with Sir Adrian Boult, a close friend of the composer, conducting the London Philharmonic Orchestra. This was in fact the very first recording of the work, and Vaughan Williams was to be on hand for this auspicious occasion. Sadly, he passed away just hours before the session began. As a result, the recording session began opened with Sir Adrian informing the orchestra of the composer's passing, and his words were captured on tape and included at the beginning of the Everest LP. Although the orchestral forces RVW specified for the Ninth are modest, especially in comparison to those employed in the Seventh, a sound that you do not often hear in symphonic music results from the trio of saxophones that the composer added to the orchestra. 

The opening movement reminds me somewhat of the Seventh, with some themes sounding similar in feeling. Not in terms of sonority, of course, the orchestration being much different, much less grandiose – RVW is making a much more intimate statement with this work. The second movement, which opens with a flugelhorn solo (this apparently caused some eyebrows to raise when the work was new), brings in an element of mystery, perhaps even a sense of danger, especially near the end. The third movement is more jaunty and bouncy, with the saxophones and percussion section getting a chance to have some fun, the movement ending with a drum roll on the snares. The final movement begins in the strings but then gives all sections of the orchestra time in the spotlight as it unfolds, with some tender phrases from the saxophones near the final measures. Overall, the music is complex but flowing, showing Vaughan Williams to be still at the height of his compositional powers even late in his long life (in fact, the liner notes point out that the composer had begun some preliminary sketches for two more symphonies before his death). Brabbins and his BBC forces make a strong case for this final symphony, in a performance that stands right up there with previous favorites such as Manze and Slatkin. If you are one of those casual RVW fans who might have overlooked his Symphony No. 9, this new Hyperion recording would be an excellent opportunity for you make your acquaintance with something special indeed.

Schubert: Piano Sonata in A minor D537; Piano Sonata in A major D959. Garrick Ohlsson, piano. Hyperion CDA68398

 

The veteran American pianist Garrick Ohlsson (b. 1948) has enjoyed a long and distinguished career. He won the International Chopin Piano Competition in 1970 and remains the only American pianist ever to have done so. He has recorded the complete works of Chopin (and has of course made many other recordings over the years), but here turns his attention to a pair of piano sonatas by Schubert, his first completed sonata (D537), and one of the three (D959) completed only two months before the composer’s death. Bill Heck and I recently had a conversation about Schubert’s piano music wherein we both agreed that there is truly something special about it, some element of sheer beauty that has never been surpassed. We both love the piano music of Beethoven, and those late piano pieces by Brahms – but my goodness, the way Schubert can just spin out the melodies that dance, sing, weep, cry, laugh, ponder, pray, prance… 

The sounds that Ohlsson coaxes from the keyboard do justice to the range of feelings that Schubert pours into his composing. The earlier work is lighter, with more of the feeling of the dance about it from the outset. Ohlsson shades dynamics and plays with a flexible tempo that brings out the galloping drama of the first movement and makes the second movement just flow along with a sprightly air about it, making it truly atmospheric and lovely. The relatively brief (5:06) finale abounds in dynamic contrasts as it races toward its conclusion. Then it is on to D959, one of the glories of the piano literature. Ohlsson brings his ability to shade dynamics and shift the tempo to this monumental work as well. In comparing his interpretation to that of Uchida, it seemed as though hers seemed to lean more to drama, while his leaned more to color. Or perhaps you could say that Uchida is a bit more percussive – but just a bit.  Perhaps some of the difference could also be attributed to the engineering, with Ohlsson being afforded a warm, slightly distant sound, Uchida having been recorded a tad closer. 

Once again, then, Hyperion has given us a recording with excellent sound, informative liner notes, and an artistic cover. Even if you already have some Schubert piano recordings in your collection, this one is worth an audition to hear what Ohlsson’s tender touch reveals from Schubert’s scores. And if you have not encountered the piano music of Schubert, this recording would make an excellent introduction.

As a final note, some classical music fans may have already heard, but for those who have not, the latest news is that Hyperion Records, long an independent UK-based recording label, was recently sold to the Universal Music Group (UMG), the giant corporation that owns the rights to familiar classical recording labels such as Deutsche Grammophon, Decca, and EMI, as well as jazz/popular labels such as Geffen, A&M, Motown, Island, Polydor, Def Jam, Interscope, Capitol – they even own Abbey Road Studios. Although there is always fear when a little fish gets swallowed up by a great big one, there are some potential benefits to classical music fans. If nothing else, the Hyperion catalog may become more accessible on streaming services, which would certainly be a plus. Meanwhile, there are more Hyperion releases in the pipeline, and we have already received some CDs for future review. At this juncture, the long-term future of the label is not crystal-clear, but if we all follow the advice of Hulk Hogan (say our prayers and take our vitamins), the music will continue to be served admirably well.

Music for Strings: Sinfonia of London/John Wilson (SACD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Vaughan Williams: Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis (for Double String Orchestra); Howells: Concerto for String Orchestra; Delius: Late Swallows (slow movement of String Quartet arranged 1962-63 for string orchestra by Eric Fenby); Elgar: Introduction and Allegro, Op. 47 for Strings (Quartet and Orchestra).  John Mills, violin; Michael Trainor, violin; Andriy Viytovych, viola; Richard Harwood, cello; John Wilson, Sinfonia of London. Chandos CHSA 5291

 

The Sinfonia of London is not one of the established London orchestras such as the London Symphony, London Philharmonic, or the similarly-named London Sinfonietta. Rather, the Sinfonia of London is a pickup orchestra that assembles for specific recording or concert performances. It was originally assembled in the 1950s to record film scores (a lucrative source of income for orchestral musicians) and is now in its third incarnation, which was formed by the British conductor John Wilson (b. 1952) in 2018 to undertake recording projects. Its members include musicians from the more well-known London orchestras as well as some skilled chamber musicians and soloists. Wilson and the orchestra have thus far released several recordings for Chandos. This time around it is strings only for a recording of several compositions of quintessentially British music for string orchestra. We previously reviewed an excellent release by Wilson and players featuring music for strings by the four B’s of English music, a review that you can read here.

 

Two of the pieces on this latest offering, those by RVW and Elgar, are compositions that have been recorded many, many, times by many, many conductors – English, British, European, American, Russian… My guess would be that many, if not most classical music fans have several favorite recordings of both in their collections. These performances by Wilson and his players are top-drawer and could well elbow their way into many a favorites list. The Tallis Fantasia, no matter how many times it has been recorded, is an absolutely stunning piece of music that should never be taken for granted. Finding both the performance and the engineering on this new Chandos SACD to be truly excellent, I thought it would be useful to do a quick comparison with another, older recording. (Note: This SACD has been recorded in 24-bit/96 kHz 5.0-channel surround sound; however, I listened to the CD layer only). The CD I quickly pulled down from my shelf turned out to be quite a bit older: a 1985 Argo “ADRM” remastering of a 1972 recording by Neville Marriner and the Academy of St. Martin-in- the-Fields. To be honest, I was truly surprised at how well the 50-year-old recording held up. No doubt the newer recording is better in absolute terms, and for those with multichannel surround-sound audio systems and/or headphone/earbud setups (I see that on Amazon Music, for example, the album can be streamed in Dolby Atmos format, and would assume that Apple Music offers something similar), the opportunity for a potentially more immersive is offered by the SACD format (as well as some of the various higher-end streaming services for those so inclined). 

 

In terms of performance, both groups sounded excellent, and the total timing for the Tallis Fantasia was within five seconds: Wilson, 15:08; Marriner, 15:13. As I reflect back on my times spent listening to the Wilson/Sinfonia of London performance of this beloved piece, I am reminded of a remark I once read long ago that Toscanini was said to made – intended derisively – about the way Bruno Walter conducted the music of Mozart: “When he comes to something beautiful, he melts.” When I hear a beautiful performance of the Tallis Fantasia, I melt. And somehow, I have this notion – perhaps I am a sentimental, airheaded fool – that even though these fine string players, the cream of the London crop, gather together as a focused group to record this most beloved English composition, they cannot help but play their hearts out. This is an outstanding performance of a transcendent piece of music. 

 

I will definitely add the Wilson disc to add to my collection, but it won’t go on the shelf near the Marriner disc in the “V” section of my collection; instead, it will go in the “D” section, tucked in amongst my Delius CDs. But first, a word about the Howells Concerto for String Orchestra, which is the longest selection on the program at just over 28 minutes. Herbert Howells (1892-1983) was deeply impressed by both the Tallis Fantasia and Elgar’s Introduction and Allegro for Strings. Although he is known today more for his large-scale choral works, he also wrote for orchestra, organ, and had a long career as a teacher. He began work on his Concerto for String Orchestra in 1934 as a tribute to Elgar, who had recently died. In 1935, Howells suffered the tragic loss of his one-year-old son Michael; subsequently, the middle slow movement bore the dedication In Memoriam: E.E. (1934) and M.K.H. (1935). It is moving music, even anguished in some passages, sandwiched between two much more lively and energetic movements in the typical fast-slow-fast concerto format. 

 

Although Frederick Delius (1862-1934) first composed his String Quartet in 1916, giving the slow movement the title “Late Swallows,” kt was not until 1962, the centenary of the composer’s birth, that the conductor Sir John Barbirolli suggested that Late Swallows be arranged for string orchestra. This arrangement was completed by Delius’s associate and biographer Eric Fenby (1906-1997) in 1963. Like most of Delius’s music, it just seems to have a flow to it that sounds natural and unfettered. As you listen, you are not really aware of melody as such, but the music you hear is melodic and beautiful. By contrast, the Introduction and Allegro by Sir Edward Elgar (1887-1934) sounds quite structured, with various themes and musical ideas working themselves out as the piece progresses. But that is not to imply that the piece sounds at all stuffy or academic. Quite the opposite is the case -- it crackles with energy and gives the performers the opportunity to play with great gusto, which the Sinfonia of London players do, but with a disciplined gusto under Wilson’s baton. 

 

The booklet enclosed with the disc includes background notes in English, German, and French on the music, plus information about the orchestra and conductor in English only. For some strange reason, of the four composers whose music is presented on the program, only Howells rates a photo in the booklet (while Wilson gets three photos spanning four interior pages, plus the back cover page). Perhaps the fact that the inside back cover page states “Generously Supported by the Herbert Howells Trust” explains this apparent anomaly. But that’s a minor quibble indeed. This is a well-played, well-recorded collection of an interesting mix of familiar and less-familiar but nonetheless compelling music for strings.  

 

 

 

 

Vaughan Williams: Symphony No. 6 in E minor (CD review)

Also, English Folk Songs; Symphony No. 8 in D minor; England, my England. Martyn Brabbins, conductor; BBC Symphony Orchestra; BBC Symphony Chorus; Roderic Williams, baritone. Hyperion CDA68396.

2022 marks the sesquicentennial anniversary of certainly the greatest British composer and arguably one of the world’s greatest composers ever, one who often goes overlooked but surely belongs right up there with the very best ever to have composed music, Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958). Except for his Tallis Fantasia and The Lark Ascending, you will almost never encounter any of his music on a concert program here in the USA, which is a real shame. Thank goodness we have recordings! For example, there are excellent boxed CD sets of his complete nine symphonies available at remarkably affordable prices conducted by Slatkin (my favorite overall), Previn (wonderful – my other favorite), Boult (the touchstone), and Bakels (surprisingly good). There are also of course other individual recordings of his symphonies, concertos, chamber music, songs, etc. that are well worth seeking out, many of which have been reviewed here at Classical Candor and can easily be looked up by scrolling down to the Vaughan Williams link in our list of composers.

This new release led by British conductor Martyn Brabbins (b. 1959) belongs right up there in any discussion of the best recordings of RVW’s symphonies. The opening measures of Symphony No. 6 explode with energy, but the sound is well balanced from top to bottom in terms of frequency response as well as side-to-side and front-to-back in terms of stereo imaging. From the drama of the opening the symphony proceeds fairly straightforwardly, at least in terms of structure, with a Moderato second movement, and an energetic Scherzo third movement. Then there comes the final movement, which the composer designates with the unusual marking of Epilogue: Moderato. The liner notes point out that when the symphony was first performed, back in 1948 when the composer was 75, the “perceived nihilism” of the quiet last movement was thought by many in the public to be a reaction to or symbol of nuclear annihilation in the wake of the development and deployment of the atomic bomb in 1945 – a view that Vaughan Williams denied.

It is a unique symphony – explosively powerful opening, eerily quiet ending, but beautiful from start to finish – and Brabbins, the BBC Orchestra, and Hyperion’s engineering team do it full justice throughout. Brabbins never seems to rush, never seems to drag, never seems to underline or exaggerate, yet the music speaks with dramatic power when need be and whispered nuance in those placid yet in some ways unsettling final minutes.

Symphony No. 8 is a lighter work, but a delightfully entertaining one, full of lively high spirits. As a special note of contrast: while the final movement of No. 6 consists of ten quiet, mysterious minutes, the final movement of No. 8 consists of five lively minutes with plenty of boisterous brass and lively percussion – a treat for the ears as performed with great gusto by Brabbins and his BBC forces.

In addition to the two symphonies, Hyperion has included some bonus musical material. The three English folk songs that come between the two symphonies are sung by the BBC Symphony Chorus. These were probably composed around 1912 but were never published; in fact, the performances on this release are almost certainly the first time these arrangements have ever been heard. There is nothing profound here – these are folk songs, after all – but the music is fun and the songs make for a pleasant interlude between the two symphonies. Following the performance of Symphony No. 8, the program is closed out by England, my England, a choral song for baritone, chorus, and orchestra, which Vaughan Williams composed in 1941 for a BBC radio broadcast. As the liner notes point out, “it displays a rare nationalism in Vaughan Williams’s output – an extended tune of quasi-Elgarian stamp, candid in its expression, and sorely needed at the time early in World War II when Britain stood alone.”

Of course, the main interest for the majority of music lovers will be the two symphonies, both of which have been served exceedingly well by both the musicians and the engineers. If you have never heard the Vaughan Williams Symphony No. 6, this new release from Hyperion would be a perfect introduction, with an excellent account of Symphony No. 8 as a bonus. Add to that the splendid engineering and a recommendation falls right into place.

Bonus Book Recommendation:

Beauty and Sadness: Mahler’s 11 Symphonies by David Vernon (Candle Row Press, 2022).

Dr. David Vernon is a British academic and author with a passion for music, language, and literature. He has previously published a book on Wagner (Disturbing the Universe: Wagner's Musikdrama), has recently completed a book on Nabokov that will be published soon (Ada to Zembla: The Novels of Vladimir Nabokov), and is currently working on a book about Beethoven’s string quartets. His book on Mahler’s symphonies provides a deep dive into these 11 works (the 10 numbered symphonies plus Das Lied von der Erde). As you might expect, Vernon considers how events in Mahler’s life Mahler might have influenced his compositions, as do many other authors who have written about Mahler’s music, but he also goes on to explore many more aspects of Mahler’s symphonic achievements.

As Vernon explains in his introduction: “No two Mahler symphonies are alike, but there is a remarkable continuity and connection between the eleven, both a spirit and a thread. Each takes you into a new condition, a new world and realm of feeling, a detachment and engagement that lasts for an hour, an hour and a half. This book contains imaginative explorations of all eleven of them. Each chapter proceeds from a discussion of the contextual, personal, historical, cultural, philosophical and musical rudiments which forged the symphony; it then delves more deeply and systematically into the work itself, movement by movement.” And delve Vernon does, diving deeply into both the background of each symphony and the music itself – discussing the symphony as a whole and the individual movements.

His writing is rich, complex, and erudite. This is not a book that you can just casually skim through, because Vernon’s analyses are complex and his language is sophisticated. However, Beauty and Sadness is not at all dry and academic; far from it – it is passionate and personal, clearly written from Vernon’s deep love for Mahler’s music and his heartfelt desire to interest others in Mahler’s remarkable music. To that end, he even provides an appendix with his recommendations of other books on Mahler’s life and music that he has found to be “among the most captivating and beneficial.” Having myself read the first two books he recommends (Gustav Mahler: An Introduction to His Music by Deryck Cooke and Mahler by Michael Kennedy) early in my own discovery of Mahler’s music, I can vouch for those  recommendations. But for the passionate Mahler fan eager to dive ever more deeply into Mahler’s music, Beauty and Sadness, which is available both as a relatively inexpensive paperback and an even more inexpensive e-book, is a richly rewarding resource.

KWN

This Sceptered Isle (CD review)

Music of Wood, Holst, Vaughan Williams, and Elgar. David Bernard, Park Avenue Chamber Symphony and Wind Ensemble. Recursive Classics RC5946217.

By John J. Puccio

“This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for her self
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in a silver sea
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England”

--William Shakespeare, Richard II

England had a musical renaissance in the late-nineteenth to mid-twentieth century with the so-called “English pastoral school.” Composers of this persuasion strove to create (or some would say revive) a singular style of music making based on recreation of seventeenth-century tunes and collected traditional songs. In general, the music celebrated the joys of the countryside, the life of shepherds or rural folk, usually peaceful, innocent, idyllic, and often programmatic music. The current album offers four composers representing this musical school of thought: Haydn Wood, Gustav Holst. Ralph Vaughan Williams, and Sir Edward Elgar.

David Bernard and his Park Avenue Chamber Symphony and Park Avenue Wind Ensemble present the selections. As you probably know by now, my having mentioned it often, the Park Avenue ensemble includes mainly players who do other things for a living (like hedge-fund managers, philanthropists, CEO's, UN officials, and so on). They're not exactly amateurs, but they're not full-time musicians, either. Fortunately, their playing dispels any skepticism about the quality of their work; everyone involved with the orchestra deserves praise. Nor is the Park Avenue Chamber Symphony a particularly small group. It's about the size of a full symphony orchestra but play with the transparency and intimacy of a chamber group.

Opening the program is Mannin Veen--”Dear Isle of Man”--A Manx Tone Poem by Haydn Wood (1882-1959). Basing the work on folk songs from the Isle of Man, Wood wrote it in 1933 for full orchestra and later arranged it (or had it arranged) for wind ensemble. Maestro Bernard offers it here in its arrangement for wind ensemble, which became the most-popular medium for the work. Personally, I had my doubts, thinking a wind ensemble was the last thing a peaceful, bucolic, “pastoral” piece of music needed. But the Park Avenue Wind Ensemble proved me wrong. There is nothing bombastic or overblown about the Suite’s six movements. The playing under Maestro Bernard is mostly gentle, sweet, and comforting, an ideal setting for the music.

Next, we get the Suite No. 1 in E-flat for Military Band by Gustav Holst (1874-1934), who, yes, really did write more than just The Planets. Holst wrote the Suite in 1909, a few years before The Planets, and while the tunes in the Suite might sound like folk songs, they were all original to the composer. It’s probably the least “pastoral” of all the selections on the album, but it shows a fine, spunky drive, with a military cadence and bearing throughout, culminating in a full-fledged march by the end. Again, the wind ensemble carry out their duties with an affectionate glee.

After that, we get the familiar Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis by Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958). Written in 1909, it is clearly derived from the composer’s interest in Tudor music, which itself was seeing a revival about this time. Here, we have the symphonic orchestra back, and they do a lovely job under the commanding leadership of Maestro Bernard. There’s nothing wishy-washy about this account. Bernard leads them boldly, with strong, firm, resolute direction. Thus, the music sheds much of the sentimentality from which it sometimes suffers.

The final and longest piece on the disc is Variations on an Original Theme (“Enigma”) by Sir Edward Elgar (1857-1934). He wrote it in 1888, but his publisher wasn’t so sure of its success so appended the subtitle “Enigma” to it in the hope that it would generate more interest. (Several years earlier, Tchaikovsky had declared that his own “Pathetique” Symphony had an underlining meaning, which had caused a good deal of intrigue over what that obscure meaning might be. Elgar’s publisher hoped the same buzz might come of an “Enigma” subtext.)

Whatever, the Elgar piece contains the theme itself and fourteen variations, the most famous probably being the ninth variation Adagio, “Nimrod.” The variations began life as improvisations that Elgar continued to toy with, bringing in all sorts of clever, hidden, and not-so-hidden meanings (thus, “Enigma”). Elgar dedicated the music “to my friends pictured within,” with each variation being a musical sketch of one of his close acquaintances. Anything else that listeners might want to bring to the music is up the them. The important thing is that Maestro Bernard and his orchestra play the music in a most forthright manner, making it more heartfelt in the process. The interpretations dance lightly when necessary, display a cheerful playfulness at other times, and exhibit the proper decorum where appropriate. It’s an altogether delightful and clearheaded rendering of the score.

Recording engineers Jennifer Nulsen, Isaiah Abolin, Thom Beemer, Gunnar Gillberg, and Lawrence Manchester recorded the music at the DiMenna Center for the Performing Arts, NYC in February and November 2021. The recording shows a healthy degree of hall resonance, making for a little less overall transparency but a good deal of realistic ambience. The sound is well balanced in most respects, with a soft, warm glow making it easy to listen to.

JJP

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

Recent Releases, No. 25 (CD reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

Poems & Rhapsodies
Saint-Saëns: La muse et le poète, Op. 132; Chausson: Poème symphonique, Op. 25; Vaughan Williams: The Lark Ascending; Anatoly Kos-Anatolsky: Poem for Violin and Orchestra in D Minor; Kenneth Fuchs: American Rhapsody (Romance for Violin and Orchestra); Myroslav Skoryk: Carpathian Rhapsody. Solomiya Ivakhiv, violin (all tracks); Sophie Shao, cello (Saint-Saëns); Volodomyr Sirenko, National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine. Centaur CRC 3799.

On the morning that I discovered that the long-feared invasion of Ukraine by Russian forces had finally begun, I was so upset by the news that my immediate reaction was to find something to do to take my mind off the conflict. After a few brief moments of indecision, it suddenly hit me that the best thing to do would be to switch into reviewing mode: pop a CD into the player, settle down in the listening chair, do some serious listening, take some notes, and forget about the war in Ukraine, at least for a while. So, of course, the first CD I found waiting for me to audition was this one: Ukrainian musicians recording in Kyiv. Now I was pretty much just an emotional wreck, not fit for much of anything except a shower and then some calming conversation with my wife. Only then could I get back to life, the universe, and everything, including that ominous pile of what seem to be at least 42 CDs awaiting review, starting with this one.

The program is a mix of the familiar (The Lark Ascending, Poème symphonique), the relatively unfamiliar (American Rhapsody, La muse et le poète), and the truly unfamiliar (Poem for Violin and Orchestra,  Carpathian Rhapsody). A common thread among them is that they are all lyrically beautiful; moreover, they are presented with both skill and feeling by the assembled performers. At first I had some reservations about seeing The Lark Ascending in the list of titles (come on, Centaur, did we REALLY need yet another recording of RVW’s lovely piece to add to the umpteendiddlymillion already on the market), but this is a perfectly fine version that fits right in with the rest of the program and in the end I was grateful that it was included. (And, yes, Centaur, I guess we did, so thanks!). From beginning to end, this is just a splendid disc, starting with the interplay among violin, cello, and orchestra in the Saint-Saëns, which is just a lovely composition by that French master who seem to be so sadly underrated these days (and  I must confess that listening to Ivakhiv and Shao wend their way through La muse et le poète have brought me to the brink of repentance of that very sin –I shall be embarking on a Saint-Saëns spree post haste) all the way through the newly unearthed Carpathian Rhapsody by Myroslav Skoryk, a composer whose name is doubtless unfamiliar top all but a very few.

I also had wondered why the University of Connecticut had been involved in the recording; as it turns out, the featured violinist, Ukrainian-born Solomiya Ivakhiv, along with cellist Sophie Chao and composer Kenneth Fuchs, are all UConn faculty members. Along with Volodomyr Sirenko, National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine, they recorded this program back in July, 2019, in Kyiv, but because of the COVID-19 pandemic, the recording was not released until late in 2021. The engineering is excellent, the liner notes give some background on both the music and the performers, and this is an excellent release all the way around. In addition, it is most generously filled, timing out at more than 78 minutes. I hope and pray for the safety of the members of the Ukrainian musicians and their families during this horrific ordeal,

Francesco Tristano: On Early Music
Tristano: Toccata; On Bull Galliard in D; Peter Philips:  Fantasia in D Minor; Tristano: Serpentina; John Bull: Let ons met herten reijne; Tristano: On Girolamo Frescobaldi's Quattro correnti; Girolamo Frescobaldi: Partita sopra l’Aria la folia; Tristano; Ritornello; On Cristobal de Morales Circumdederunt Me; Orlando Gibbons: Pavan; Air & Alman; Italian Ground; Ground; Tristano: Ciacona seconda; Frescobaldi:  Cento partite sopra passacaglie; Tristano: Aria for RS. Francesco Tristano, piano. Sony Classical 19439917392.

As I do with most recordings that I review, I start by listening. Yes, I look at the CD package front and back to see what I can glean about the musical program and the performer(s), but other than to extract the CD so I can pop it into one of my CD players, I try to avoid reading any of the information contained within. In this case, however, being completely unfamiliar with pianist Francesco Tristano,  and given that the scandalously skimpy liner insert (one sheet: the cover photo with brief notes on the reverse. Th-th-that’s all, folks), I had to turn to Wikipedia for more information to find that Francesco Tristano is the stage name of Luxembourg-born Franscesco Tristano Schlimé (b. 1981), who composes both classical and electronic music and also plays the clarinet. He is a Julilliard graduate who has gone on to study keyboard with Emile Naoumoff, Rosalyn Tureck, and Mikhail Pletnev. Well, that confirmed several things I had suspected from listening to the CD several times. First, that Tristano had some serious chops, along with a serious regard for and interest in early music. Also, that he must have some experience in the electronic manipulation of sound, of what could be done in a studio.

The musical program consists of Tristano originals written in the style of early music masters, Tristano’s “takes” on pieces by some of these masters, along with some more straightforward interpretations of their music. Although there is some variation in style and sonority, largely due to studio manipulation of the sonics and some generally subtle although occasionally surprising electronic effects, Tristano’s musical vision is coherent from beginning to end. Highlights include the persuasive dance rhythms Tristano creates in track 6, On Girolamo Frescobaldi's Quattro correnti, the mysterious but energetic atmosphere created by track 8, Ritornello, the stately elegance of Orlando Gibbons’s Italian Ground, and some of the surprising, presumably deeply personal sounds that Tristano has included in his closing track, Aria for RS, which is at times jolting, but only briefly, set against a backdrop of deep tenderness, a moving end to an musical program that was clearly labor of love.

The sonic perspective is very close to the piano. On the opening cut, for example, you can hear every little (and big!) sound of the Yamaha cfx. As the album continues, with its expanding sonic palette of acoustic sounds and electronic colorations, the engineering is up to the task of presenting every sonic hue and cue. I’ve not yet tried it on headphones but imagine it would be quite the experience… In any event, my only quibble with this truly remarkable release is the liner insert, which put me in a John McEnroe “You cannot be serious!” frame of mind. C’mon, Sony, surely you can do better than this! Or was this what Tristano wanted? In any event, the lack of any useful information about the music is a real disappointment.

I was going to hold off and include this review in my next installment of Piano Potpourri, but despite my reservation about the liner notes, this release is so musically appealing that I want to get the word out as quickly as possible. If you enjoy piano music – especially if you are a fan of Early/Baroque keyboard music – then this is a release you really ought to consider giving an audition. It’s a knockout both musically and sonically.

Saint-Georges: Symphonies concertantes
Symphonies conertantes, Op. 9; Symphonies concertantes, Op. 10*; Symphony in G major, Op. 11, No. 1. Yuri Revich, solo violin I; Libor Jezek, Solo violin II; *Pavla Honsová, solo viola; Michael Halász, Czech Chamber Philharmonic Orchestra Pardubice. Naxos 8.574306.

This CD is one of those that I picked up at the library on a whim. Although the music was not from an era that I usually gravitate toward, there were several things about the cover that grabbed my attention. First was the name of this composer, printed on the cover as “Joseph Boulogne, Chevalier de SAINT-GEORGES.” Quite a moniker, that. Then there was the cover portrait of a distinguished-looking Saint-Georges (1745-1799) holding what I at first glance took to be a conductor’s baton but then quickly realized was not a baton but rather a sword. I also noted that the picture of Saint-Georges revealed a man with large shoulders, arms, and hands, a dignified, confident countenance, and most likely some African ancestry. Flipping over the cover I quickly read that he was “a brilliant swordsman, athlete, violin virtuoso and gifted composer, with a claim to being the most talented figure in an age of remarkable individuals. He was an early exponent of the hybrid symphonie concertante – a genre that draws on both the symphony and concerto traditions ”    

Having discussed the composer (but more on him to come), it is time to consider his music as recorded here by these Czech musicians. It is fresh, lively, and vigorous. The two Symphonies Concertantes both feature prominent roles for the solo instruments, violins in Op. 9 and the violins being joined by a viola in Op. 10. Note that “Concertantes” is plural: both Op. 9 and Op. 10 consist of two parts. Op.9 No. 1 in C major has an Allegro and a Rondeau, as does No. 2, which is A major. Op. 10. No. 1 in F major varies the pattern by having two Allegros, but No. 2 in A major returns to the Allegro then Rondeau form. Both works are reminiscent of Mozart, and both sound as though they must have been fun for the musicians both in 18th century Paris as well as 21st century Pardubice. The program concludes with the brief Symphony in G major, which is three movements, each barely over four minutes long. Although it hardly strikes modern ears as weighty or profound, that is not what it was meant to be; it was meant to be entertaining and pleasant, and that it is in abundance.

Having greatly enjoyed the music on this release as well as the biographical information included in the liner notes, I decided to do a bit of quick research, so I turned to Wikipedia, where I found quite a wealth of information. Should anyone be interested, the entry on Chevalier de Saint-Georges is quite fascinating, but for  the sake of brevity, I will quote just a few sentences form Wikipedia’s account: Saint Georges “was a Guadeloupean Creole classical composer, virtuoso violinist, a conductor of the leading symphony orchestra in Paris, and a renowned champion fencer. Born in the then French colony of Guadeloupe, he was the son of Georges de Bologne Saint-Georges, a wealthy married planter, and Anne, dite (called) Nanon, an African slave woman of his wife. When he was young, his father took him to France, where he was educated. During the French Revolution, the younger Saint-Georges served as a colonel of the Légion St.-Georges, the first all-black regiment in Europe, fighting on the side of the Republic. Today the Chevalier de Saint-Georges is best remembered as the first known classical composer of African ancestry. He composed numerous string quartets and other instrumental pieces, Violin concertos as well as operas. He knew many composers including Salieri, Gossec, Gretry, Gluck and Mozart.” A remarkable man, about whom I must confess I was completely ignorant until that chance encounter with this Naxos CD in my public library. I now recommend that CD with enthusiasm to those who would like to learn more about the remarkable man and his enjoyable music.

KWN

Light in a Time of Darkness (CD review)

Music of Vaughan Williams, Kay, Bach, Barlow, Walker, and Haydn. JoAnn Falletta, Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra. Beau Fleuve Records 605996-998579.

By John J. Puccio

JoAnn Falletta, the longtime (1999-present) Music Director of the Buffalo Philharmonic hardly needs an introduction, given the vast praise that audiences and critics around the world have heaped upon her. She has chosen to title the current album Light in a Time of Darkness, which she explains in a liner note:

“As we look back on the challenges of 2020 and 2021, we realize that our music kept us emotionally alive. The BPO musicians and I played throughout the pandemic, masked, socially distanced and in small groups, filming our concerts to share with our audiences. Those experiences for us were intense--learning music we had never played and communicating with each other in different ways. But it also was an astounding and beautiful time for us. The music seemed to take on a deeper dimension, to reach us on a profound spiritual level. Without question, music kept us together, healthy and grateful to be able to perform for the community we love.

In this CD, we have chosen six pieces that were high points of the season for us in terms of their emotional depth and spirituality. We hope that you will enjoy the extraordinary musicians of the Buffalo Philharmonic in this expression of our heartfelt thanks to you, our beloved family.”

There are half a dozen short pieces on the program, the first of which is the Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis by the British composer Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958). He wrote and premiered it in 1910 on a commission from the Three Choirs Festival, basing his theme on a tune by the sixteenth-century English composer Thomas Tallis. Ms. Falletta approaches it in a graceful, warmhearted manner, the orchestra sounding lush and velvety smooth.

Next up is Pieta by the neoclassicist American composer Ulysses Kay (1919-1995). The title derives from Latin, meaning “piety or compassion” and refers more specifically to depictions of the Virgin Mary grieving over the dead body of Christ. These first two selections seem appropriate to the dark days of the pandemic, but Ms. Falletta never lets them sink into pathos. In their own spiritual ways, they are quite moving and uplifting.

After that is a familiar work, the Brandenburg Concerto No. 6 by Johann Sebastian Bach. I had to admit it had been a long time since I last heard a Brandenburg played by anything but a period-instrument band, Although Ms. Falletta and her players may not sound exactly the way Bach would have heard the piece, her well-disciplined direction would surely delight him. This is a comfortable Bach, cozy, relaxed, and refined.

Following the Brandenburg is are two short pieces, The Winter’s Passed by American composer Wayne Barlow (1912-1996) and Lyric for Strings--Lament by American composer and pianist George Walker. They add further notes of inspiration to the agenda, notwithstanding a touch of melancholy; and they are beautifully played by the orchestra and its director.

The program closes with the Symphony No. 44 in E minor, “Trauer,” by Austrian composer Franz Josef Haydn (1732-1809). While Haydn may be known as the “father of the string quartet,” he is also known as the “father of the symphony,” having written over a hundred of them at a time when the genre was just getting off the ground. The nickname for Symphony No. 44, “Trauer,” means “grief or mourning,” and that may explain why an apocryphal story arose that Haydn wanted the slow movement played at his funeral (it wasn’t). Haydn wrote the work during his “Sturm und Drang” period (“storm, stress”), and even though there are a fair share of intensely severe moments in it, the slow Adagio movement is certainly not one of them. Because of the work’s emotional contrasts, some music scholars consider it an important forerunner of Romanticism.

Whatever, Ms. Falletta’s way with Haydn is much in the manner of the rest of the program. She handles it with great confidence in an easygoing, cultivated performance that is bigger on tenderness and compassion than it is on excitement or thrills. It makes a fine and fitting conclusion to an album that glows with affection.

Producer and engineer Bernd Gottinger recorded the music at Kleinhans Music Hall, Buffalo, New York in 2020 and 2021. The sound is plush, warm, and comfortable, about what you would hear from the audience’s perspective at a medium distance in a concert hall. There is a pleasant, ambient glow around the music that is most flattering.

JJP

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

The British Project (CD review)

Music of Elgar, Britten, Walton, and Vaughan Williams. Mirga Grazinyte-Tyla, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. DG 486 1547.

By Karl W. Nehring and John J. Puccio

The music according to Karl:

Parts of this recording were previously made available by DG in dribs and drabs as digital downloads by DG but now the entirety of The British Project featuring the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra under the baton of the young Lithuanian conductor Mirga Grazinyte-Tyla (b. 1936) is finally available on CD. Having been quite impressed by a previous recording by these same forces (https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2019/07/weinberg-symphonies-nos-2-21-kaddish-cd.html), and being quite a fan of British music, I have long been looking forward to this release. So, with a Lithuanian conductor and a German label, what do we have going here?

The program opens with Sospiri (“Sighs”) by Sir Edward Elgar, a brief composition for string orchestra, harp, and organ. This is not the Elgar of Pomp and Circumstance; rather, it is music that is plaintive and emotional, yes, but in a much more introspective way than we might expect from Elgar. In any event, it is beautiful music and its somber tone sets the stage for the next work on the program, Britten’s Sinfonia da Requiem, a work for large orchestra that the liner notes aptly describe as “a musical onslaught of rage and sorrow whose dark brilliance and concentrated emotional power can still thrill and disturb us today.” I spent some time comparing this version to two other versions that are well-regarded in audiophile circles, the Previn on EMI and the Stern on Reference Recordings. I was really surprised at how different the Grazinyte-Tyla version sounds from those two, both of which seem to go out of their way to sound dramatic, with drum sounds that seem to be heralding the end of time. As much as the audiophile got a kick out of that kind of sound, I must say that the music lover in me was won over by what seems to be the more rational, better balanced approach of Grazinyte-Tyla and the DG engineers. I just found myself enjoying the music more. Not to say that the DG engineering does not sound excellent; indeed, it is clean and well-balanced. But hey, I’ll still pull out the RR or EMI CDs when I want a guilty pleasure.

As far as Walton’s Troilus and Cressida music, which actually takes up the most time on this release, I unfortunately do not have much to say, as it is music with which I am completely unfamiliar. It is interesting enough, and has some dramatic moments (the movement titled The Lovers has some beautiful passages, and the Finale generates plenty of energy), and yes, it is good to have something to audition other than the “usual suspects.” The program ends with a rendition of the Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis by Vaughan Williams that seems to begin with a bit more nervous energy than usual, but as it moves along, develops more of the calm, reflective beauty to which we are accustomed to hearing in this venerable composition, surely one of the landmarks of British music. Both the performance and the recording do a fine job of highlighting the antiphonal nature of the arrangement, helping to make this an appropriate performance to cap off an endeavor titled The British Project. 

KWN

The music according to John:

For at least the last fifty-odd years I have had a deep admiration for the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. Of course, the orchestra has been around a lot longer than that. In fact, its origins (if not its name) go back hundreds of years. But it was only in the early 1970’s that I noticed them because EMI was making some of the best-sounding records available with the orchestra under their leader at the time, Louis Fremaux. When Fremaux departed, the orchestra got Sir Simon Rattle, who produced some of the most-enthusiastic performances I have probably ever heard from him. After a few more notable leaders (Sakari Oroma, Andris Nelsons), in 2016 the Lithuanian conductor Mirga Grazinyte-Tyla became the orchestra’s newest Music Director.

Just as Rattle’s energetic ardour replaced Fremaux’s Gallic charm, so does Ms. Grazinyte-Tyla’s delicate touch supplant the bulkier styles of her predecessors. Not that she isn’t capable of generating a good deal of excitement, as several of the selections on this disc demonstrate, but it’s her more sensitive moments that linger in memory. At least that’s how I came away from this first listening to her work. It was a good first impression.

So, we have four British works on the agenda, the first being Edward Elgar’s Sospiri, an adagio for string orchestra, harp, and organ that Elgar wrote in 1914. Although it is brief, Ms. Grazinyte-Tyla makes the most of it--almost literally, as it’s the longest performance of the piece I think I’ve ever heard. To put that into perspective, Sir John Barbirolli took just over five minutes to perform it. Ms. Grazinyte-Tyla takes almost seven minutes. “Sospiri” in Italian means “sighs,” and that’s the way Ms. Grazinyte-Tyla plays it: as one, long, wistful sigh. The performance is a little different, but it’s quite a moving one, given The Great War that was about to change England and Europe forever.

Next, we have Benjamin Britten’s Sinfonia da Requiem, the centerpiece of the album. Britten wrote it in 1940 for the Japanese government to celebrate the government’s founding. However, they rejected it for its use of Latin headings for the movements and for its largely grim tone. Maybe they didn’t understand the meaning of “requiem” (a mass for the dead). Good thing, in any case, given the coming Second World War. Fortunately, it found an audience at home and has been one of Britten’s more popular pieces ever since. Here, Ms. Grazinyte-Tyla can be fairly forceful, along with being subtle and conscientious. The work offers her every opportunity to show us her expertise as a conductor, and she comes through in both tender and thrilling fashion. She pulls the music gently in all directions and delivers a mournful yet warmhearted performance.

Following Britten is William Walton’s Symphonic Suite from his opera Troilus and Cressida. The opera appeared in the mid 1950’s to mixed reviews (it wasn’t “modern” enough), but the orchestral suite we get here (created in 1988 by Walton’s collaborator Christopher Palmer) has fared a tad better. It’s filled with high drama, which Grazinyte-Tyla elaborates with an easy grace.

The program concludes with Ralph Vaughan Williams’s Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis for double string orchestra. Vaughn Williams based the central tune on a hymn by the eighteenth-century English composer Thomas Tallis, and VW premiered it 1910. It was among his early successes, and under Grazinyte-Tyla’s graceful control it gets a splendidly relaxed yet spirited and sweetly flowing interpretation.

Producer Andy Guthrie and engineers Ian Barfoot and Jamie Hickey recorded the Vaughan Williams and Elgar at Symphony Hall, Birmingham, England in November 2020 and March 2021; and producer Vilius Keras and engineer Aleksandra Keriene recorded the Britten and Walton at Elbphilarmonie, Hamburg, Germany in October 2019. The sound is quite good. Not quite in the same league as the old EMI/Fremaux recordings for ultimate clarity and impact but smooth, natural, and ultimately realistic, nevertheless. DG has always been good with dynamic range, and the engineers demonstrate their skills with the softest to loudest passages. The disc makes a pleasurable listen.

JJP

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

Recent New Releases (CD mini-reviews)

By
Karl W. Nehring

Hilary
Hahn: Paris
Chausson:
Poème; Prokofiev: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra No. 1;
Rautavaara: Deux Sérénades. Hilary Hahn, violin; Mikko Franck, Orchestre
Philharmonique de Radio France. Deutsche Grammophon  483 9847.

This
new release from the talented American violinist Hilary Hahn is a delight from
start to finish. Although the album title and orchestra might lead you to
assume a program featuring all French composers, that is not the case here, for
in addition to the French composer Ernest Chausson (1855-1899) we have also
music by the Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953) and the Finnish
composer Einojuhani Rautavaara (1928-2016). Hahn reveals her deep affection for
and kinship with the City of Light in an essay in which she explains that in
addition to her many other connections with Paris, her violin was made in Paris
way back in 1865 by a famed luthier whose shop has in the 21st century been
replaced by a convenience store. On a brighter note, she also reveals that she
had long desired to record the Prokofiev, one of her favorite and
most-performed pieces, but was waiting for the right combination of time,
place, orchestra, and conductor, which she realized in Paris with Franck and
the OPRF in June of 2019. The end result is truly lovely, well worth the wait
both for her and for us. Those who might associate Prokofiev with spiky,
boisterous music would do well to listen to this performance of his Violin
Concerto No. 1, which is lyrical, lively, and lovely. Hahn describes the
Chausson Poème with which she opens the program as “raw, lush,
heartbreakingly beautiful… it takes my breath away.” Although I have in the
past owned recordings of this piece, and enjoyed them, I had not heard the
piece in many years until I auditioned this new recording, and yes, I found it
to be much as she described. It truly is a marvelous work, well worth seeking
out if you have not yet encountered it. The background story behind the Deux
Sérénades by Rautavaara that complete this release is told in the liner
notes, a tale that I will not relate here but will rather leave for those who
might be interested to seek out for themselves. The music is quite enjoyable,
but in truth, does not quite sound complete, which a reading of the liner notes
will explain. All in all, Paris is a heartfelt and satisfying release
from some consummate musicians.

Parallels:
Shellac Reworks by Christian Löffler
Wagner:
Parsifal: Closing Scene (Arr. for Orchestra). Max von Schillings,
Staatskapelle Berlin (1926-27); Smetana: The Moldau (excerpt). Erich
Kleiber, Staatskapelle Berlin (1928); J.S. Bach: Dir, dir Jehova, will ich
singen BWV 452. Karl Straube, Thomanerchor Leipzig; Helmut Walcha, organ
(1927); J.S. Bach: Gavotte from English Suite No. 6, BWV 811. Alfred
Grunfeld, piano (1911); Chopin: Nocturne No. 2 in E flat Major Op. 9 No. 2 (arr.
De Sarasate). Charles Cerne, piano; Vasa Prihoda, violin (1929); Bizet: Nadir’s
Aria from Les pecheurs des perles. Koloman von Pataky, tenor; unknown
orchestra (1928); excerpts from four works by Beethoven: Symphony No. 6.
Hans Pfitzner, Staatskapelle Berlin (1930); Symphony No. 5, 2. Satz.
Richard Strauss, Staatskapelle Berlin (1928); Egmont Overture. Otto
Klemperer, Staatskapelle Berlin (1927); Symphony No. 3, 2. Marcia funebre.
Hans Pfitzner, Berliner Philharmoniker (1929). Christian Löffler, electronics.
Deutsche Grammophon 4839660.

This
is a recording that truly blends the old and the new. Deutsche Grammophon has
one of the oldest sound archives in the world, having taken great care to store
their recorded material ever since the label’s foundation in 1898. Shellac
discs (78s) that held about four minutes of music per side were the dominant
recording format until the 1940s. A number of these historic recordings have
now been digitized and restored, and DG recently teamed with German DJ and
producer Christian Löffler, who hand-picked from this collection of digitized
shellac recordings a set for modern reworking. Löffler is a self-taught
musician whose productions combine elements of dancefloor techno and ambient
electronica. He says that his music “is often described as nostalgic, it’s just
part of my musical world. Sad music – if you want to call it that – has always been
more appealing to me than happy music… I’m quite nerdy when it comes to trendy
music production techniques. I’m very forward thinking and always interested in
new technologies. But many of my trademark sounds come from vintage
synthesizers and old effects devices. I’m just trying to catch the best of any
time period to get the best possible result. My aspiration with this project
was to handle the music with all due respect. That is something I always do
when I work with other people’s music, be it a remix or collaboration. My aim
for Parallels was to bring the soul of my own music into these original
pieces. I also wanted to keep some parts of the original music almost
untouched, to give the listener a better understanding of the original material
in the context of its new ‘home’.” Yes, his description sounds a bit bizarre,
but the end result is fascinating, hypnotic, and haunting. Electronic sounds,
acoustic sounds, voices from nearly a century ago rising from the mix -- this
is a recording that can be enjoyed both in casual and concentrated listening
modes.

Refraction
Alexander
Woods, violin; Rex Woods, piano; Aubrey Smith Woods, violin. MSR Classics MS
1689.

As
you might guess from the names of the performers, this album of music for
violin is a family affair, presented by violinist Alexander Woods along with
his pianist father, Rex Woods, and his violinist wife, Aubrey Smith Woods.
(Perhaps I am being overly sensitive, but I did find it rather odd that on both
the front and back covers the three names are printed in three distinctly
rank-ordered font styles: ALEXANDER WOODS, REX WOODS, Aubrey Smith
Woods. Hmmmm…)  The four composers are a
mix of the familiar and unfamiliar: Dvorak, Asplund, Mozart, and Thorndock. As
the liner notes explain, “although the violin itself has remained virtually
unchanged for centuries, music composed for the instrument has undergone
numerous and vivid transformations, shaped and developed by varied
circumstances, styles and innovations. Like a light beam passing through a prism.
Works written for the violin have, over time, refracted into a broad stylistic
array of vibrant compositional perspectives. This album mingles canonic violin
works from the past with recent compositions that explore this variegated play,
engaging with the rich history of violin music and performance through myriad
lenses.” The album opens with Four Romantic Pieces from Dvorak for
violin and piano, which are played here most romantically and enjoyably, a fine
way to start the program. Unfortunately, the next composition, One Eternal
Round for two violins by Canadian-American composer Christian Asplund (b.
1964), does not fall nearly as naturally on the ear as the others included in
this set. Although it is not aggressively harsh or dissonant as some contemporary
music can be, to these ears at least, it simply lacked any real appeal. YMMV.
But then the players move back to familiar ground with Mozart’s Violin
Sonata No. 26, a refreshing drink of cool, clear water after the dryness of
the Asplund. The final composition, A Crust of Azure by American
composer Neil Thorndock (b. 1977), is said in the liner notes to be “influenced
by the impression of music coming down from the sky, ringing like
reverberations from a bell tower. The evocative movement titles [I. Tremulous
Whirl, II. Refraction of Sky, III. Lavender Shroud] allude to the atmospheric
colors, light effects and sensations that descend from the sky’s ‘crust of
azure.’”  It truly is a colorful piece,
lively and imaginative, well worth an audition for fans of the violin who are
seeking interesting new repertoire. With excellent engineering and helpful
liner notes, MSR Classics has done a first-class job with this release.    

Max
Richter: Voices 2
Max
Richter, piano, keyboards, organ, synthesizer; Mari Samuelsson, solo violin;
Ian Burdge, solo cello; Camilla Pay, harp; Robert Ziegler, conductor; Tenebrae
Choir; various sopranos and altos plus a number of violin, viola, cello, and
double bass players. Decca B00332480-02.

Although Richter’s previous release, Voices (reviewed ) spotlighted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, including spoken recitations of the text, Voices 2 is exclusively musical, with no textual recitations. According to Richter, Voices 2 “opens up a meditative instrumental musical space to consider the ideas raised by the first record. The music is less about the world we know already and more about the hope for the future we have yet to write.” Those familiar with Richter’s music will know what to expect: music that is on the one hand relatively simple and straightforward in terms of its melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic construction, yet on the other hand, rich and evocative in terms of its instrumentation, sonority, and emotional resonance. There are some striking sounds to be heard from Richter’s various keyboard instruments both acoustic and electronic, plus some particularly notable musical contributions by Mari Samuelsson on violin and Ian Burdge on cello. And no, you need not have listened to Voices to enjoy its successor, which is quite enjoyable on its own terms. 

Lento
Religioso
Berg:
Piano Sonata op. 1 (arr. Wijnand van Klaveren); Korngold: Lento
Religioso from Symphonic Serenade; Bruckner; Adagio from String Quintet;
Bridge: Lament for string orchestra (for Catherine, aged 9, “Lusitania”
1915); Lekeu: Adagio pour quatuor d’orchestre; Wagner: Prelude
from Tristan und Isolde; Strauss; Prelude from Capriccio. Candida
Thompson, Amsterdam Sinfonietta. Channel Classics CCS 36620.

As a
glance at the titles of the works included in this generously filled (77:41)
disc should suggest, this release features music from the more serious, somber
pages of the classical music catalog. That is not to say, however, that
listening to it is an emotional downer, as this is music of great depth and
exquisite beauty, played with sensitivity by this relatively small string
orchestra. Some of the selections are scaled down (e.g., the Wagner), some are
scaled up (e.g., the Berg and the Bruckner), and some were originally intended
for an ensemble of about this size. The engineering is first-rate, with clean
string tone and a believable soundfield. All in all, an interesting program of
some works a bit off the beaten path that should be especially appealing to
those who appreciate music of a serious, reflective, but nonetheless
aesthetically engaging nature.

Lindberg:
The Waves of Wollongong
Also,
Liverpool Lullabies; 2017. The New Trombone Collective; Evelyn
Glennie, percussion; Christian Lindberg, trombone and conductor, Antwerp
Symphony Orchestra. BIS-2148 SACD.

If I
had to come up with a one-word description of this release by the Swedish
composer, trombonist, and conductor Christian Lindberg (b. 1958) it would be
“robust.” Or maybe “outgoing.” Or possibly even “swaggering.” It most certainly
would not be “reticent” or “tentative.” The opening piece, The Waves of
Wollongong (the title refers to waves the composer had experienced in
Wollongong, Australia) features the nine trombones (three each alto, tenor, and
bass) of The New Trombone Collective making mighty waves of sound along with
the orchestra, while the second piece, Liverpool Lullabies, seems hardly
the sort of music to little ones to sleep as Lindberg on trombone and the
amazing Ms. Glennie on percussion give off plenty of sparks with their
energetic playing. The final piece, 2017, was composed by Lindberg
during that turbulent, discouraging, frightening year as a reaction to the 2016
U.S. presidential election and its disturbing aftermath, and is dedicated to
the journalist Rachel Maddow. Needless to say, it is not a cheerful piece, but
it is musically engaging. As per their usual standard, the BIS engineering team
has captured this robust music in robust, dynamic, swaggering sound that will
tickle your tweeters and waggle your woofers.

Vaughan
Williams: Symphonies Nos. 4 and 6
Sir
Antonio Pappano, London Symphony Orchestra. LSO Live SACD LSO0867.

Vaughan
Williams may well be the most underrated symphonic composer. For my money, his
nine rank right up there with the best, and when it comes to the heart of his
symphonic output, Symphonies Nos. 3, 4, 5, and 6, I can’t think of any
composer whose 4-6 I would rate above RVW’s – not Mahler, not Bruckner, not
Sibelius, and no, not even the immortal Beethoven. Of those four RVW
symphonies, the odd-numbered are primarily lyrical and peaceful, while the two
even-numbered symphonies, especially No.4, are much more brash and
assertive. Pappano and the LSO hold nothing back, with the opening notes of No.
4 bursting forth with startling ferocity. This bold beginning sets the tone
for the entire disc, which presents both symphonies forcefully and
energetically. My only quibble is with some harshness in the upper strings; to
be honest, I am not sure how much is the engineering or how much can be
attributed to the vigor of the performance. My first choice in both symphonies has been the Slatkin recordings from his RCA boxed set (now distributed by Sony Music at a bargain price), but for those looking for a single disc of these two remarkable 20th century masterpieces, this new release from Pappano and the LSO is a top choice. Highly recommended.

KWN

Recent Releases (CD Mini-reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

Christopher Tin: To Shiver the Sky.
Danielle de Niese, soprano; Pene Pati, tenor; ModernMedieval; Royal Opera
Chorus; Pembroke College Girls’ Choir; The Assembly; Anna Lapwood, Organ;
Christopher Tin, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Decca Gold B0032422-02.

The foreword to the liner notes proclaims
that “This is the story of flight: of humanity’s quest to break the bonds of
earth, challenge the heavens, and take our rightful place among the stars… This
is the story of flight told through music, and through the words of 11 of
history’s pioneers, pilots and engineers, scientists and storytellers,
stargazers and mystics, men and women who freed us from the shackles of
gravity, and stretched the limits of our imagination. It’s the greatest
adventure on which man has ever embarked.” That is certainly an ambitious aim,
and although I will freely admit to some skepticism, I will humbly admit that I
was entertained and indeed won over by the music of the young American composer
Christopher Tin (b. 1976), of whom I had never heard before checking this CD
out of the library. With lyrics from historical figures such as Leonardo da
Vinci, Ovid, Copernicus, Yuri Gagarin, and others, sung in a variety of
languages, with grand musical arrangements and powerful sonics, this truly is a
release that will make a music-loving audiophile shiver in delight.

Beethoven: Symphony No. 5; Gossec: Symphonie
à 17 parties. François-Xavier Roth, Les Siècles. Harmonia Mundi HMM 902423.

I recently completed a modest survey of
recordings of Beethoven’s venerable Symphony No. 5 in which I looked at both
period instrument recordings (7/5 of Beethoven Part 1) and those by modern orchestral forces (7/5 of Beethoven Part 2). Having spent so much time listening to
that work, wonderful though it is, I was not really all that eager to audition
yet another recording of it, but this new recording by Maestro Roth and his
French period-instrument orchestra had two appealing things going for it.
First, I had heard previous recordings they had made of music by Debussy and
Ravel and had been quite impressed by both the performance and sound; second, I
had never heard of the French composer François-Joseph Gossec (1734-1829) and
was curious to hear his music. As it turned out upon auditioning this well-engineered
Harmonia Mundi CD, my curiosity was richly rewarded. Although the Beethoven
performance does not quite edge out the Savall for pride of place in my
personal pantheon, this is a fine version that is well worth hearing,
especially for those who have not yet heard the Fifth performed by other
than a modern orchestra. But the real ear-opener was the Gossec, an energetic
symphony that fully deserves to be heard alongside the mighty Beethoven work.
What as pleasant surprise! Listening to the Gossec reminded me of when I
finally sat down and listened seriously to the Beethoven Symphony No. 2, a
work I had always neglected in favor of his other symphonies. My goodness, what
had I been missing all those years?! Hearing the Gossec gave me a similar
feeling–why had I never heard this music before?! This is an exciting,
stimulating work, fully deserving to be heard alongside Beethoven, and I intend
to seek out more music by this composer. I suspect that if you give this CD a
listen, you may well want to do the same.

Borodin: Requiem. Ian Boughton,
tenor; Stephanie Chase, violin; Margaret Field, soprano; Geoffrey Simon,
Philharmonia Orchestra/BBC Symphony Chorus. Cala Signum SIGCD2094.

Longtime classical music fans might
remember Australian-born conductor Geoffrey Simon (b. 1946) from those superb
Debussy recordings he made with the Philharmonia for the Cala label back in the
early ‘90s. Those recordings are what sprang to my mind when I saw this new
release at the library; indeed, I was surprised to see that Simon was
apparently back at it three decades later. It was not until I had already
played (and thoroughly enjoyed) this CD a couple of times that I read the fine
print to discover that although the copyright for this release was 2020, the
recording was done in 1992. I then took a quick look on Amazon and found out
that this program was originally released on Cala in 1993 as a Borodin
collection, then reissued by Cala in 2006 with a new cover, this time
highlighting the Requiem, and now it is being reissued once again as a
Cala Signum release, with another new cover that once again highlights the Requiem.

If you were not aware that the Russian
chemist and composer Alexander Borodin (1833-1887) wrote a requiem, you need
not be embarrassed. This is not a requiem mass in the manner of Mozart,
Beethoven, Berlioz, Verdi, et al. It is one movement that lasts only
5:26 as performed here. And oh, by the way, the original was a little piano
piece by Borodin; the orchestration done by the conductor Leopold Stokowski. Why,
then, is it the title of the album? Ahh, the mysteries of life and classical
music marketing…

That said, it is an interesting enough
little piece, and the rest of the program consists of more substantial fare
that highlights the colorful, melodic music for which Borodin is famous. There
are the Polovstian Dances and Suite from Prince Igor, an arrangement for
violin and orchestra by fellow Russian composer Rimsky-Korsakov of Borodin’s Nocturne
from his String Quartet No. 2, his symphonic poem In the Steppes of
Central Asia, and finally, his Petite Suite, which Borodin
originally wrote for the piano but was later orchestrated by Glazunov. All in
all, what we have here is more than 78 minutes of colorful, expressive,
well-recorded music that offers a great overview and introduction to
Borodin.    

Desplat: Airlines. Emmanuel Pahud,
flute; Alexandre Desplat, Orchestre National de France. Warner Classics
0190295306878.

French film composer Alexandre Desplat (b.
1961) has won Academy awards for his scores for The Shape of Water and The
Grand Budapest Hotel, both of which are represented in arrangements of
excerpts on this imposing new release from Warner Classics is which Desplat
makes a case for considering film music as serious music, not just light music
for entertainment. The program also includes his Pelléas et Mélisande,
which the composer describes as a Symphony concertante inspired by
Debussy and written to highlight the sound of the flute, played here by
renowned French flautist Emmanuel Pahud (an article about Pahud’s golden flute
appears in the March 2021 issue of Gramophone, which coincidentally
enough arrived at my abode the same day as I first auditioned this CD). Yes,
overall this CD sounds for the most part like movie music, but it is very fine
movie music; indeed, it is very good music period, and well-recorded to boot.
Some may find the sweetness of the music combined with the sweetness of the
flute a bit too caloric, but hey, we all enjoy an occasional overindulgence,
right? No, this is not the kind of music I would be likely to play over and
over, but for those who enjoy cinematic sound, this is well worth an audition.
(And if you have never seen The Grand Budapest Hotel, you definitely
need to fill that gap in your cinematic experience…)     

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 11 (“The
Year 1905”). Vladimir Jurowski, London Philharmonic Orchestra. London
Philharmonic Orchestra LPO-0118.

The Symphony No. 11 (“The Year 1905”) by Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich
(1906-1975) comes across in many ways more like one big tone poem than it does
a symphony, which is not surprising, given that its four movements are each
given tone-poem-like titles and that the four movements are played without
pause. To my mind, at least, as much as I admire Shostakovich, No. 11 is
one of those pieces you just have to be in the mood for, and frankly, that mood
does not strike me often. When it does, though, I want a performance that
really brings the music to life, and this one by Jurowski and the LPO just does
not do it for me. It just seems too polite, too matter-of-fact. When I am in
the mood to hear this work, I would much rather listen to the rendition by the
Boston Symphony Orchestra under Andris Nelsons on DG, a performance and
recording of significantly greater impact and power. YMMV. 

Bruckner: Mass in E minor; Motets.
Henry Websdale and Donal McCann, organ; Sir Stephen Cleobury, The Choir of
King’s College, Cambridge/Academy of St. Martin’s in the Fields. King’s College
Cambridge KG50035.

Bruckner is most well-known for his
symphonies, but he also composed in other genres, such as masses and motets.
This recording presents the second of his three masses plus several of his
motets. Unfortunately, I was immediately put off by the sound of the voices,
which to my ears at least just sounded young and shouty, just not right for
this music. Thinking I was perhaps in some sort of churlish mood, I pulled out
an older DG recording of the same E minor Mass as performed by the Choir
and Orchestra of the Bavarian Radio Symphony under the direction of Eugen
Jochum and was immediately reassured that no, the problem was neither my mood
nor my hearing, it was with the sound of the young English choir. That is a
shame, because in every other respect – engineering, liner notes, etc. – this
is truly a first-class release, but the sonority of the choir simply seems
inadequate to communicate the deep beauty of this music. In the end, this is a
disappointing release.    

Bach: Goldberg Variations. Parker
Ramsay, harp. King’s College Cambridge KG50049.

From the same label comes a recording that
is the very opposite of a disappointment. This performance the young American
musician Parker Ramsay of Bach’s immortal Goldberg Variations is utterly
delightful, first-class in every respect. But what makes it truly revelatory is
that Ramsay has not recorded them on piano, nor on harpsichord, but instead he
has recorded a transcription he made for harp, and rather than sounding like
some sort of novelty, it sounds perfectly natural, musical, and glorious. In
the liner notes, Ramsay asserts that he “wanted to show the world that the harp
is not a toy for composers to whip out in precious moments in orchestral music,
but a serious instrument whose variety of timbre can hold the attention span of
a listener for an hour or more.” For a spellbinding 78 minutes and 45 seconds,
this recording proves his point. If you are a fan of the Goldbergs, you
really ought to put this recording on your must-hear list. It will give you a
whole new perspective on the musical possibilities of the harp as well as a
deeper appreciation for the genius of Bach.    

#Goldberg
Reflections: Niklas Liepe, violin; Jamie Phillips, NDR Radiophilharmonie.
Sony Music 19439778302.

From
Sony comes another fascinating perspective on the possibilities inherent in the
Goldbergs, not from a single instrument this time, but rather from an
ensemble. Or, more precisely, ensembles, not only of performers but also
of composers. On this ambitious two-CD album, violinist Niklas Liepe has masterminded
a musical collection consisting of arrangements of movements from the Goldbergs
interspersed with brief compositions by contemporary composers that are
reactions to, reflections upon, takeoffs from, or otherwise inspired by Bach’s
iconic composition. The musicians include Niklas Liepe, violin; Nils Liepe,
harpsichord and piano; Anna Lewis, solo viola; Nikolai Schneider, cello;
Friedrich Heinrich Kern, vibraphone; and conductor Jamie Phillips leading the
NDR Radiophilharmonie. The composers include Rolf Rudin (b. 1961, Germany),
Sidney Corbett (b. 1960, USA), Andreas Tarkmann (b. 1956, Germany), Dominik
Dieterle (b. 1989, Germany), Wolf Kerschek (b. 1969, Germany), Moritz Eggert
(b. 1965, Germany), Daniel Sundy (b. 1979, USA), Tobias Rokahr (b. 1972,
Germany), Friedrich Heinrich Kern (b. 1980, Germany), Stephan Koncz (b. 1984,
Austria), and Konstantia Gourzi (b. 1962, Greece). This might sound like a huge
hodgepodge, but it all blends together into an entertaining whole that stays
true to Bach while expanding the conception of the variations. Yes, it expands
from Bach, but is firmly rooted in Bach, and never strays from style or
sonority that sounds estranged from the sound-world of the Goldbergs.
The end result is spellbinding, one that should appeal to just about anyone who
loves the music of Bach, and even to those who have not yet discovered the
music of the great master. I simply cannot recommend this too highly; it is one
heck of a hoot!

LCO Live -
Vaughan Williams | Suk | Dvorak. Christopher Warren-Green, London Chamber
Orchestra. Signum Classics SIGCD638.

Sometimes you
just need to be reminded how lovely certain music can be. Auditioning this CD,
which I had added with some reluctance to the stack of new releases I had found
at the library, did just that for me. What a revealing reminder of what I had
been missing from music I had long neglected! Not so much the opening piece,
the Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis by Ralph Vaughan Williams, for
I play a lot of RVW’s music and the Tallis Fantasia is often included on
various RVW releases, but even in this case, the beauty of this performance by
the London Chamber Orchestra under the baton of Maestro Warren-Green quickly
brought a smile to my face. It was the Serenades by Suk and his teacher
Dvorak that really made my day, for I had truly forgotten just how beautiful,
how moving, how rewarding these works are. With more that 70 minutes of
lovingly performed, warmly recorded music for strings, this is truly a
recording to both stir and soothe the soul, delivering whatever your soul might
need during these difficult days.

KWN