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Mahler: Symphony No. 3; Debussy: La Mer / Mitropoulos, Cologne Rso
ICA Classics · May 2011CD$26.99 -
SaleBeethoven: Piano Concerto No. 1 - Symphonies Nos. 2 and 3 / Blomstedt, Argerich, Lucerne Festival Orchestra [DVD]
Accentus Music · Nov 2021DVD$41.99$31.99 -
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Purcell: Fairy Queen / Dexter, Millson, Barrit, Christie [Blu-ray]
Opus Arte · Jun 2010Blu-Ray$39.99 -
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Klughardt: Symphony No. 3; Violin Concerto / Berg, Tschopp, Anhaltische Philharmonie Dessau
CPO · Feb 2011CD$18.99 -
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SaleBeethoven: Piano Concerto No. 1 - Symphonies Nos. 2 and 3 / Blomstedt, Argerich, Lucerne Festival Orchestra [Blu-ray]
Accentus Music · Nov 2021Blu-Ray$53.99$40.99 -
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Shostakovich: Symphonies No 1, 2 & 3 / Wigglesworth, Netherlands Radio Philharmonic
BIS · Apr 2012SACD$21.99 -
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Wuorinen: Music Of Two Decades Vol 3 / Miller, Fine Arts Quartet
Music and Arts Programs of America · Aug 2013CD$19.99 -
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SaleDi Vittorio: Sinfonias No 1 "isolation" And No 2 "lost Innocence" / Chamber Orchestra Of New York
Naxos · Jul 2011CD$19.99$13.99 -
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Mahler: Symphony No. 3; Debussy: La Mer / Mitropoulos, Cologne Rso
This release is an extremely important one for admirers of Dimitri Mitropoulos. It contains, released officially for the first time, his only recording of the complete Mahler Third Symphony. There is another recording, made in New York in 1956 and that has just reappeared in a fascinating boxed set of Mahler performances by this conductor - reviewed by me recently. Unfortunately, that New York reading is compromised by cuts in the first and last movements and by some eccentrically fast speeds. As I said in commenting on that box, the New York performance shouldn’t be dismissed out of hand; however this Cologne performance surely gives us the best representation of Mitropoulos’s view of the symphony.
The Cologne performance is notable in several ways, one of which is the overall distinction of the interpretation. In addition it is the conductor’s very last performance: just two days later, while rehearsing the same symphony in Milan, Mitropoulos collapsed, felled by a massive heart attack, and died. But, it seems, we are even more fortunate to have this recording because, incredible though it seems, according to Michael Schwalb’s booklet note, the conductor actually suffered a heart attack during the performance of the first movement. There was a scheduled interval after that movement and Mitropoulos insisted on returning to the podium and completing the concert. This was news to me: in his authoritative biography, Priest of Music. The life of Dimitri Mitropoulos (1995) William R Trotter merely states that the conductor’s “physical state was so alarming” at the interval that he was begged to curtail the performance. If Mr Schwalb’s account is accurate it is truly amazing that a conductor could direct such a full-on performance of so taxing and lengthy a work under such circumstances.
No allowances need be made for Mitropoulos’s health when you listen to this performance for it carries all the hallmarks of his conducting, not least the intensity and energy that invariably marked his music making. William Trotter asserts that this Cologne performance is “much superior” to the New York reading. I’m not sure I entirely agree. There are flaws in the playing on both recordings – after all, these are both live readings – but it seems to me that the Cologne orchestra, though they give of their considerable best for Mitropoulos, can’t quite match the overall standard of the New Yorkers. That said, no one buying this set is going to feel seriously short changed by the quality of the playing, I think one can forgive fluffs and the inevitable technical shortcomings of a radio recording made over fifty years ago, when confronted by an interpretation of such intensity and one in which the conductor so evidently believes in the score.
One notices the greater sense of space in the Cologne performance right at the start where I calculate the beat in the great horn call at about 102 beats per minute – by contrast, the New York performance is at about 122 beats per minute. This sets the tone for a really gripping reading of the great first movement. One might quibble with the odd interpretative detail here and there but overall the vision that Mitropoulos has of the music is powerfully conveyed. I’d describe quite a lot of the music as sturdy in Mitropoulos’s hands – there’s never quite the hedonistic rush that one gets at times in Bernstein’s 1961 New York recording, still one of my favourites. But I found myself thoroughly convinced.
Though the many dramatic passages in the first movement make the full effect that you’d expect with this conductor he’s good too in the more delicate passages. In the second movement, where delicacy is called for to a much greater extent, I felt there were too many instances where the tempo either surges a little or is slowed momentarily. The effect is fussy and it rather marred my enjoyment. Much of III has a good, earthy feel but I was rather disappointed by the treatment of the nostalgic post horn passages, where I didn’t feel Mitropoulos gave the music sufficient space; these episodes sound rather perfunctory, almost as if the conductor found them embarrassing.
Lucretia West is a rich-toned, expressive soloist in IV. However, the exposed quiet passages for the brass find the players a little bit over-exposed. I felt that V was rather serious in tone, though the music is lively enough. I missed a touch of lightness but this may not be a problem for other listeners. ICA get something of a black mark for the layout of the discs, I’m afraid. The last three movements should follow each other seamlessly but, instead, you have to change discs for the finale. It would have been perfectly possible to have had La Mer and the first movement of the symphony on disc one with the remaining five movements of the symphony comfortably accommodated on disc two. The way the symphony is split by ICA is nothing short of crass.
Actually, the reading of the finale is the big disappointment for me. In the first place it starts off far too loud – mf, I’d guess. The start of the finale in the New York reading is much more subdued. The last time I heard this music was in a live performance at the Three Choirs Festival just a few days before auditioning this disc. There Susanna Mälkki and the Philharmonia achieved just the hushed intensity that this present performance lacks. In addition the tempo is too swift. I calculate that Mitropoulos takes the opening at about 56 beats per minute. Actually, that’s not much swifter than the pace in New York in 1956 – ca 51 bpm – but it feels fast. As the movement unfolds one feels there’s not quite the same gravity and mystery that one experiences in the very best accounts. And, for my money, the Cologne players, though they play well, aren’t in the same league as the New York Philharmonic or several other orchestras that have featured in recordings of this symphony. The booklet notes reveal that around this time Mitropoulos had agreed in principle to become chief conductor of this orchestra and one wonders how much he might have improved them, given time to work with them on an extended basis, if that appointment had ever come about.
So this account of the finale of the Third isn’t as spacious as I’d like. One might call the reading urgent – or, perhaps apply Tony Duggan’s description, elsewhere, of this conductor’s ‘edgy’ style.
This, then, is a flawed reading of Mahler’s Third but it’s still one that commands – nay, demands – attention for throughout the ninety-five minute span of the piece one constantly has the sense of a great conductor at work and nothing about this reading is routine.
The reading of La Mer is somewhat unconventional in that you will look in vain here for washes of impressionist colouring or for Mediterranean warmth. This is a taut, urgent and dramatic reading. Sometimes, as in the short, quicker passage in ‘De l’aube à midi sur la mer’ (from 4:22), the very urgency of Mitropoulos’s interpretation seems to have the orchestra audibly scrambling to keep up. At times, the end of this same movement being one example, the sound is rather fierce. In ‘Dialogue du vent et de la mer’ one feels that the wind blows rather fiercely and it’s something of a chill wind. Often, during the piece as a whole, one senses that the sea which Mitropoulos is depicting is pretty foam flecked. None of the foregoing should be interpreted as an implicit verdict that the interpretation is an unsatisfactory one. I find it bracing but it may startle some listeners used to the approach of other conductors.
At the end of the second disc we hear a few short remarks made by Mitropoulos during a rehearsal with this orchestra sometime in the 1950s. He speaks in German so I can’t tell you what he says but it’s evident from the orchestra’s reaction both before and after he speaks that he was highly regarded by them.
The recorded sound can be a bit boxy at times and the balances aren’t always ideal – the percussion is too prominent on several occasions. However, these are fifty-year-old recordings so one must make allowances. They’ve been transferred pretty well and there’s nothing to mar ones appreciation of the performances.
This is an important set and I’m thrilled in particular that ICA have brought about the first official release of Mitropoulos’s mighty vision of Mahler’s Third. This is an essential appendix to the Music & Arts box of New York performances and all admirers of this great conductor should snap it up as a matter of urgency.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Falling In Love With Duke Ellington
1. In a Sentimental Mood
2. I Didn't Know About You
3. Every Hour on the Hour
4. Lotus Blossom
5. Ghost of a Chance (With You), (I Don't Stand A)
6. Pretty Woman
7. Lover Man
8. Solitude
9. Wonder of You, The
10. Mood Indigo
11. My Heart Sings, (All of a Sudden)
12. I've Got It Bad and That Ain't Good
13. Tell Ya What I'm Gonna Do
14. Creole Love Call
15. I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart
16. You Don't Love Me No More
Personnel includes: Duke Ellington (arranger, piano); Joya Sherrill, Al Hibbler, Ida Cox (vocals); Johnny Hodges (alto saxophone); Duke Ellington & His Famous Orchestra.
Tracks recorded in New York, New York and Hollywood, California between 1944 and 1967. Includes liner notes by Joshua Sherman.
Digitally remastered by James Nichols (BMG Studios, New York, New York).
This is part of RCA Victor's Falling In Love With series.
The smoothly seductive, low-key, sophisticated sounds of the multi-faceted Duke Ellington at his most romantic provide an intimate listening experience on this entry in RCA's FALLING IN LOVE series. In a well-chosen set, Ellington favorites like "Mood Indigo" accompany less well-known tunes like "My Heart Sings (All of a Sudden)" and gorgeous melodies like "Solitude" and "Creole Love Call." The mood couldn't be more relaxed, and the music is provided by one of the 20th century's most celebrated jazz composers: the rest is up to you.
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 1 - Symphonies Nos. 2 and 3 / Blomstedt, Argerich, Lucerne Festival Orchestra [DVD]
| In August 2020, Herbert Blomstedt made his debut with the Lucerne Festival Orchestra. You could hardly tell that the maestro had celebrated his 93rd birthday only a month prior for he continuously exudes vitality, awareness, and curiosity. “I’m in love with music,” says Blomstedt, who views his profession as a kind of joie de vivre. Together with the Lucerne Festival Orchestra and Martha Argerich he revealed just what this joy sounds like with Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 1 – the work that marked Argerich’s stage debut in 1949 - and Symphonies Nos. 2 and 3, the famous Eroica. Recorded live at the Concert Hall of KKL Luzern, August 2020. |
SOMETIMES THE BLUES GOT ME
Purcell: Fairy Queen / Dexter, Millson, Barrit, Christie [Blu-ray]
Also available on standard DVD
Jonathan Kent’s spectacular production of Purcell’s huge semi-opera is joyous, imaginative and witty. Glyndebourne, with its intimate auditorium, provides the perfect setting for a drama which is partly spoken and partly sung. Based on an adaptation of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the story is lavished with a brilliance that justifies this production’s acclaim. Paul Brown’s inventive designs, Kim Brandstrup’s exquisite choreography, an excellent cast of actors and singers and outstanding playing by the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment under William Christie combine to make a seamless theatrical experience, here recorded in High Definition and true surround sound.
Henry Purcell
THE FAIRY QUEEN
ACTORS
Titania – Sally Dexter
Oberon – Joseph Millson
Bottom – Desmond Barrit
Puck – Jotham Annan
Hermia – Susannah Wise
Demetrius – Oliver Le Sueur
Lysander – Oliver Kieran Jones
SINGERS
Juno / Mystery - Lucy Crowe
Spring / First Fairy - Claire Debono
Second Fairy - Anna Devin
Eve - Helen-Jane Howells
Night - Carolyn Sampson
Mopsa - Robert Burt
Summer - Sean Clayton
Secrecy / Adam - Ed Lyon
Autumn - Adrian Ward
Phœbus - Lukas Kargl
Drunken Poet - Desmond Barrit
Winter / Sleep / Coridon / Hymen - Andrew Foster-Williams
Glyndebourne Chorus
Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment
William Christie, conductor
Jonathan Kent, stage director
Recorded live at Glyndebourne Opera House, Lewes, East Sussex, 17 and 19 July 2009.
Bonus:
- Interview with William Christie
- Interview with Jonathan Kent
Picture format: 1080i High Definition
Sound format: DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Subtitles: English, French, German, Spanish
Running time: 221 mins
No. of Discs: 1 (BD 50) R E V I E W:
The Fairy Queen is often referred to snootily as a “semi-opera” because the entertainment staged at Dorset Garden in 1692 was a mix of Purcell’s musical numbers and a bowdlerised adaptation of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In fact Purcell’s audience regarded the mix of spoken drama and musical fantasy more simply as “dramatick opera”, and thought nothing odd about rehashing Shakespeare. The subtlety and richness of Shakespeare’s original text was diluted for the occasion in 1692 but that does not mean that the result is not stage-worthy in its own right. Unfortunately, most staged productions of The Fairy Queen have avoided putting Purcell’s music back into its proper quasi-Shakespearean dramatic context. While nobody in their right mind would think it preferable to stage The Magic Flute without any dialogue, ENO’s 1995 production of The Fairy Queen worked hard and unevenly to make Purcell’s music stand alone in isolation from the relevant moments in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Simply using the charm and quality of the music as a springboard for contrived stage action tells less than half the story. The idea of reconciling the score of The Fairy Queen and its original play has for too long seemed too much like hard work for those who could not be bothered to make a serious attempt. So kudos to director Jonathan Kent and the entire production team of Glyndebourne’s fabulous 2009 reincarnation of the music and play reunited.
The reward of such courage and inquisitiveness is lovely to watch. William Christie’s direction has its cons as well as its pros; some songs (“If love’s a sweet passion”) are affected by bulgy exaggerations, tiny unnecessary tricks are employed by the OAE and chorus, and the copious use of battering percussion is irritating to those who prefer organic fare to artificial additives.
However, the production is a treat to watch: Kent has imaginatively realised the connections between the masques and the spoken drama, mixing coherently the three worlds of late-17th-century aristocratic England (Thebes), the modern day (the mechanicals preparing Pyramus and Thisbe), and the Fairy kingdom at night. The stage action is packed with good humour, affection and excellent use of colours and contrasts (although you might want to cover your childrens’ eyes at the rather saucy choreography for giant pink rabbits at the end of Act 3). The masque of the four seasons in Act 4 is a veritable feast on the eye.
Much of the credit for the charm of this production must go to the actors, especially the four confused lost lovers, the quarrelling Oberon and Titania, and, of course, Desmond Barrit’s Welsh Bottom. Of the principal singers, Lucy Crowe has stage magnetism and a terrific voice, but “Hark! the echoing air” suggests that her steely timbre is slightly less at home in 17th-century music than in Handel. Ed Lyon has the lion’s share of tenor solos; he makes heavy weather of some things but his higher-lying passages are excellent. Andrew Foster-Williams sings with gusto and appears comfortable as an extraordinary variety of characters. Carolyn Sampson steals the show in the Plaint, as the mood instantly switches from prior jollity to intense pathos; she sings “I shall never see him more” with devastating pathos but also impeccable style (plaudits also to Alison Bury’s tender violin obbligato). There are a few CD versions that I’d rather listen to for the music alone, but this DVD conveys an exceptionally spectacular event in the theatre. For a visual and dramatic feast, this reunification of play and music for The Fairy Queen is an absolute triumph.
— David Vickers, Gramophone Reviewing DVD version
Klughardt: Symphony No. 3; Violin Concerto / Berg, Tschopp, Anhaltische Philharmonie Dessau
KLUGHARDT Violin Concerto. Symphony No. 3 • Golo Berg, cond; Mirjam Tschopp (vn); Anhalt P • CPO 777 465-2 (77:51)
Tired of listening to the Schumann symphonies? Not interested in still another newfangled maestro’s take on the Brahms symphonies? Find Spohr’s boring? Weber’s too bland? Bruckner’s too long? August Klughardt’s Third may be just your cup of tea. Likewise the Violin Concerto, custom-made for listeners who need a break from the Mendelssohn, Bruch, and Wieniawski examples.
Klughardt (1847–1902) retains a toehold in the classical record catalog almost solely on the basis of a woodwind quintet, and even that is not often heard. Now comes a significant addition to his tiny discography, two major orchestral works splendidly played, recorded in a vivid acoustic environment, and conducted with great verve and panache. In fact, these performances are so good they might well be even better than the music itself.
The opening seconds of the first track (the Violin Concerto) grab your attention equally for the attractiveness of the theme, the assertiveness of the playing, and the bright, natural acoustic environment. The 40-minute concerto, composed in 1895, is packed to the hilt with sumptuous melodies (the first movement’s second subject will melt your heart, and there’s one in the finale that brings to mind swaying palm trees and island breezes). It is hard to imagine any listener resisting this fine work, while soloists in search of a new concerto to add to their repertoire will find Klughardt’s eminently rewarding.
Swiss-born violinist Mirjam Tschopp certainly plays it as if she does, in a performance imbued with commitment, technical flair, and earnest musicianship. Here is still another extremely talented violinist with much to say to the world, yet I’ve never encountered her before. Curious to know what else this outstanding musician has recorded, I checked what there might be on ArkivMusic. My search turned up just two items from the past 11 years, both by composers even more obscure than Klughardt (Barry Brenesal warmly praised her account of Saygun’s Violin Concerto in Fanfare 29:2).
The Third Symphony, too, will bring much joy to listeners in search of traditional, four-movement Romantic symphonies, this one composed in 1879. Its key of D Major (like the Violin Concerto) almost guarantees that it is going to be an affirmative, joyful work, and that it certainly is. Its opening may bring to mind the opening of the finale of Brahms’s Second Symphony. The historian Hermann Kretzschmar described the third movement as being “like a merry ballad telling of olden times, of the mighty deeds of knights and heroes, of tournaments and courtly quests, of escapades and adventures.” If this begins to sound like Bruckner’s Fourth, you’re not far off, at least in spirit.
The Anhalt Philharmonic of Dessau is a first-class ensemble with a long history (the extensive bio traces its origins back to the mid 18th century). Conductor Golo Berg ensures clean, crisp rhythms, forward drive without force, and fine balance, resulting in performances of almost irresistible attractiveness. Ronald Müller’s fine program notes tell you everything you always wanted to know about Klughardt’s Violin Concerto and Third Symphony. This disc is definitely headed for my year-end Want List.
FANFARE: Robert Markow
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 1 - Symphonies Nos. 2 and 3 / Blomstedt, Argerich, Lucerne Festival Orchestra [Blu-ray]
| In August 2020, Herbert Blomstedt made his debut with the Lucerne Festival Orchestra. You could hardly tell that the maestro had celebrated his 93rd birthday only a month prior for he continuously exudes vitality, awareness, and curiosity. “I’m in love with music,” says Blomstedt, who views his profession as a kind of joie de vivre. Together with the Lucerne Festival Orchestra and Martha Argerich he revealed just what this joy sounds like with Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 1 – the work that marked Argerich’s stage debut in 1949 - and Symphonies Nos. 2 and 3, the famous Eroica. Recorded live at the Concert Hall of KKL Luzern, August 2020. |
Quartet Integra
Malipiero: The String Quartets Complete Edition / Quartetto di Venezia
The eight string quartets that Malipiero wrote between 1920 and 1964 constitute a major body of Italian chamber music and reflect his successive musical affiliations. The first two form a linked unit and espouse his radical anti-Romanticism in the early 1920s. Nos. 3 and 4 share structural similarities and act as a kind of laboratory for his symphonies of the time. Quartet No. 5 was inspired by Malipiero’s theatrical work, whilst No. 6 explores a new-found narrative dimension. With the two late quartets Malipiero moves into a world of chromaticism, where tone-color freedom reaches the apex of imagination and achievement.
REVIEW:
Malipiero’s eight string quartets were composed over a period of 44 years and show a remarkably consonant stylistic development.
The First Quartet, composed in 1920 and showing the impressionist influence of Debussy and folk textures alike, is his most extended quartet at (here) 22 minutes. Its partition points are clear as are the ritornello figures. Malipiero’s way is not development, more successive panels of light, color or contrast but he ensures that the work ends with a reflection on the Italian baroque so close to his musical heart, cadences of almost ecclesiastical beauty and refinement. The Second Quartet is related to the First in several structurally important ways but is more compressed and in some ways even more lyrical. It generates real propulsion and sonority and this malleable movement alternates with light textures.
The athleticism of Malipiero’s conception is a distinguishing feature of the quartets; tightly constructed single-movement works that bring a heavy quotient of Venetian energy, myriad in effect, constantly referencing, briefly but adroitly, Italian Baroque and his rich folkloric storehouse. That’s certainly the procedure in String Quartet No.3 ‘Cantàri alla madrigalesca’ (1931) by which time impressionism has been lightly dispersed. A greater sense of fluidity and metrical flexibility enters with the Fourth Quartet of 1934. The occasional eruptive material seems more organic than in previous quartets where paragraphical points could impede and threaten to destabilize the music.
The wartime Fifth Quartet was written concurrently with an operatic project and here a greater sense of textural clarity infiltrates itself into the music. In part lyrically effusive this is an effective work that reflects cross-pollination of influence but also an increasing tightening of procedure, so that incidental elements are more clearly subsumed into the musical argument. No.6, though once again in a single movement, is in three ‘parts’, two Allegros surrounding a central quasi-improvised section which has catchy, playful elements.
The last two quartets show an increasing enthusiasm for chromaticism, and this means a moving away from the mid-period clarity established earlier in the cycle. If you welcome clotted textures and thickening of the quartet sonority, you’ll enjoy No.7 where livelier music includes a clarifying lyricism alongside that sense of effortful skirling dynamism. In 1964 he wrote his final quartet, the tautest yet, in which the material is foregrounded and saturated in chromaticism. The fugal elements that also motor the music are eloquent tribute to his command of the quartet medium and his skill in introducing disparate material without ever becoming academic.
Suitably, these recordings are played by the Quartetto di Venezia, city of Malipiero’s birth. They play with fulsome commitment and the booklet notes, reprised from that earlier appearance, will tell you all you need to know.
-- MusicWeb International
Mendelssohn: Symphonies 3 & 5 / Litton, Bergen Philharmonic
I am new to this series of recordings, but this disc represents the last in a set of three which covers all of Mendelssohn’s symphonies, celebrating the 200th anniversary of his birth in 1809.
Both of these works have an easy-sounding and relatively sunny disposition, which hides considerable difficulties in their genesis. Started in 1829 in Scotland, the cover image for this disc is an engraving of the Grass Market in Edinburgh, one of the places Mendelssohn stayed during his trip through what was then considered a romantic wilderness suitable for artistic reflection. The symphony was only completed by 1842 however; some 12 years after the Reformation symphony. The reason for its lower opus number is that Mendelssohn was dissatisfied with the latter work, and refused to allow its publication during his lifetime. As has been stated already, the lightness of touch which has made Mendelssohn such a refreshingly attractive voice among composers of this period is very much in evidence with these symphonies, and Andrew Litton gets excellent results from the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra.
We have heard a few ‘period’ recordings of these pieces in recent years, and a trend towards smaller orchestral footprints from bands such as the Swedish Chamber Orchestra in their Schumann symphonic cycle with Thomas Dausgaard. This recording from BIS does not fall into these categories by any means. This is not to say that Litton’s approach is anything less than supple and idiomatically appropriate, and I know of several quarters which will welcome the warmly expressive strings in the playing here. Vibrato is also a quality in the woodwind, but my hat goes off to all of the Bergen players for impeccable intonation, and to the flute and other woodwinds for their expressive and thankfully non wide-and-wobbly vibrato. The weight of voicing is also very accurately placed at all times, and a superlatively good balance provides both detail and an overall orchestral texture in the tutti sections. This transparency of texture is an inherent quality in Mendelssohn’s orchestral writing, but I also have the feeling that we might owe a debt of gratitude to the kind of clarity obtained by Roger Norrington for his early 1990s recordings on Virgin Classics with the London Classical Players. In this way, Litton’s readings of these pieces fall somewhere between Norrington’s lithe cleanliness and Claudio Abbado’s more emotionally communicative performances captured through the London Symphony Orchestra on Deutsche Grammophon. Yes, Litton is clarity, dynamism and expressively warm playing personified, but he does tend to enhance the classical origins and early romantic context of these pieces. He draws superb results from the Bergen orchestra and brings out all of the rugged Beethovenian character in the Reformation symphony, but does steer an uncontroversial path which while wonderful for repeated listening and reference, may not have you in palpitations of excitement on first hearing.
I’ve read dismissive remarks on these performances as ‘middle of the road’, but extremes of interpretative license are not what we are likely to be looking for in Mendelssohn. He has his pious moments, and high octane passion and emotional hubris are not really ‘hot’ elements in this music, at least not to today’s jaundiced ears. There are some intriguing forward-looking moments as well. Listen to those calm string passages between 2:22 and 3:05 in the first movement of the Symphony No.5: Charles Ives’s The Unanswered Question? Not far off, and to my mind such spine-tingling moments lift this recording above the run-of-the-mill. Add the sheer quality of the playing into the mix, and we have a winning combination. The SACD qualities of the recording are a nice enhancement, as usual opening out the aural picture and giving a real sense of location and involvement. Still attempting to put my finger on some marginal reservations, I suppose it might come down to these performances being very much ‘studio’ in nature. Looking at the booklet, I don’t get the feeling that the impassioned photo of Andrew Litton in full action on the back is taken from these sessions or this music. One has a sense that the players might respond with just that extra ‘edge’ with a live audience rather than just the familiar if marvellous acoustic of the Bergen Philharmonic’s home concert hall, but this might as well just be my imagination looking for weaknesses which aren’t really there at all. Conductors and record producers just can’t win can they? Anything other than highly polished performances and we reviewers start moaning about blemishes; and the closer things come to perfection the more we’re likely to hit on a lack of that last nth of emotional content and excitement. Fear not in this case however: if you are looking for ‘perfect’ symphonic Mendelssohn then this disc has to come somewhere near, if not at the very top of the list.
Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International
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MENDELSSOHN Symphonies: No. 3, “ Scottish”; No. 5, “ Reformation” • Andrew Litton, cond; Bergen PO • BIS 1604 (SACD: 70:15)
I did not find Andrew Litton’s traversal of the “Lobegesang” symphony as convincing as I had hoped, so when this arrived in the mail I was full of concern. Mendelssohn’s works deserve the full-frontal SACD treatment, and Litton I had hoped was the man to do it, but the “Lobgesang” foretold that a successful complete series this was not to be. However, surprise of surprises, this new installment turns out to be all I had hoped for and more. The sound, to get that out of the way, is stunning, as are the performances by the Bergen players. They leave nothing to be desired.
But this is well-tread ground and needs groundbreaking readings to make a dent in almost anyone’s pantheon. Mendelssohn never really liked the “Reformation” Symphony, and to tell you the truth, I understand why. The thing is a hodgepodge of overblown Protestant sentimentality, uses the Dresden “Amen” in a way that is most artificial, and Luther’s well-worn “Mighty Fortress” easily degenerates into something pompous and bloated. Structurally this is one of the composer’s weakest works, and it takes a conductor with a great deal of sympathetic understanding to glue all the parts together. There are some exciting things here, and Mendelssohn’s symphonic skill is obvious, but his materials can grate when in the wrong hands.
Bernard Haitink is a conductor who understands this and was able to turn in a remarkably fluent performance on Philips years ago; it remains my favorite, at least did until a few weeks ago when I first heard this Litton. Everything is as right in this reading as it can be, and Litton presents the populist music in a manner that refuses to dwell on it as if it is populist music. The results are wonderful, and this one races to the top of the list.
The “Scottish” is Mendelssohn’s last and greatest symphony, though there have been very few really outstanding performances of the piece on record. Haitink coupled his “Reformation” with this work, and it is very well done. Leonard Bernstein knew his way around the work, though his sonics are a bit thin, and Christoph von Dohnányi also turned in a very fine reading on Telarc with his Clevelanders. Peter Maag has owned the piece for ages in my opinion, his also rather thin-sounding recording on Decca holding the fort until this Litton came along. Maag’s reading still reigns—his Decca is a classic. But this one is also extremely close to Maag’s, and the sound is simply not comparable in any way to the aged Decca. Litton’s grandeur and joyous verve in this work guarantees a place in the one-to-choose top five list, and BIS is to be congratulated for signing him and the Bergen folks to record this. Easily and somewhat urgently recommended.
FANFARE: Steven E. Ritter
BASIE JAM
Shostakovich: Symphonies No 1, 2 & 3 / Wigglesworth, Netherlands Radio Philharmonic
Gripping performances, reported in superb sound.
Mark Wigglesworth’s Shostakovich symphony cycle has been quite a long time in the making – over ten years, in fact – but it’s now nearly complete. I believe the Fifteenth is still to be recorded but this issue should be the penultimate release. We’ve reviewed most of the previous releases – the Fourteenth, one of the earlier releases (BIS-CD-1173) does not seem to have come our way – and each has attracted generally favourable comments. A full set of links to earlier reviews appears at the foot of this review. So far I’ve only heard a couple of the issues in this series, Symphonies Four and Eight.
Over the years when my colleague Dan Morgan and I have listened to the same recordings – including those which he’s reviewed but I haven’t – I found that generally our views have coincided quite a lot. Recently, however, unbeknownst to each other, we wrote simultaneous reviews of Vasily Petrenko’s disc of Shostakovich’s Second and Fifteenth symphonies and found ourselves taking quite different stances. I know that Dan has written admiringly of this latest Wigglesworth issue in its download format so I was intrigued to receive the CD version, though I’ve taken care not to read Dan’s review while preparing my own appraisal. The divergence of opinion over the aforementioned Petrenko release led to some interesting comments on the Message Board so it seemed to me that the arrival of this Wigglesworth CD would be a good opportunity to revisit Petrenko’s accounts of all three symphonies.
One problem for me in approaching this disc is that I’ve never thought very highly of either the Second or Third symphonies and that was reflected in my comments on Petrenko’s recording of the Third and, subsequently, of the Second. Would Mark Wigglesworth make me change my mind? To some extent he has made me more favourably disposed towards the Third though I’m afraid the Second still remains a closed book to me.
Irrespective of any issues about interpretation, I think there are two reasons why Wigglesworth is to be preferred over Petrenko in the Second and Third symphonies. One is that, as we shall see, though the sound on the Naxos discs is pretty good the BIS sound is even better. The other is that Wigglesworth has a clear advantage in using the professional voices of the Netherlands Radio Choir. Petrenko’s Liverpool choir, an amateur body, makes a good showing but the Dutch choir has more punch and their sound is better focused – I’m sure it helps that the choir is smaller than the Liverpool chorus. Naxos does enjoy one advantage, however, which may seem small but which, actually, is quite important: the sung texts are printed in transliterated form whereas BIS offer only the Cyrillic text and an English translation and as most collectors won’t read or speak Russian it’s easier to follow in the Naxos booklet what’s being sung.
The BIS booklet notes are by Mark Wigglesworth himself and he writes insightfully about the music. I was struck by a comment he makes about the First Symphony and the influence of Petrushka and, indirectly, perhaps of Pierrot Lunaire that “the disconcerting idea of human beings as puppets, with their actions manipulated by unseen string-pullers from on high, was one that stayed with the composer right the way through to his final symphony, written almost fifty years later.” In the second movement Wigglesworth’s tempo for the fast music seems very fleet but, in fact, when I compared Petrenko there’s not much to choose between them. In the third movement, however, there is quite a difference: Wigglesworth’s basic pulse is fleeter than Petrenko’s – he takes about a minute less to play the movement – but I don’t think he loses anything thereby in terms of intensity or power; quite the reverse, in fact. This may well be an instance where less means more. In passing, it’s interesting to note that in his much-admired complete cycle Rudolf Barshai is quicker than either of these younger conductors, taking just 7:43. Wigglesworth is excellent in the transition from the third movement to the fourth, bringing out the dark power in the music to perfection. The playing of the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra is razor sharp throughout the whole performance and the recording – to which I listened in conventional CD format – is stunning in its immediacy; as an example, listen to the pivotal timpani solo in the finale (track 4, 6:00). I still think the Petrenko performance is a very good one but I think Wigglesworth is even better, digging deeper.
The dynamic range of the BIS recording is such that if one plays the Second Symphony at a level that will be comfortable in the strident passages then the opening is all but inaudible, even when listening through headphones. In fact it’s only after some two minutes have passed that one can really discern what’s happening. That’s not intended as a criticism of BIS, by the way; that’s surely what Shostakovich intended and all credit to Wigglesworth and his orchestra for playing so softly. The RLPO’s playing for Petrenko, while extremely quiet, is not so hushed. BIS splits the symphony into four tracks – on Naxos there are three. Wigglesworth, having started so softly, maintains the mysterious atmosphere very successfully throughout the first section. I start to “lose the plot” with this work when we get to the Meno mosso section (track 7); much of this passage sounds simply chaotic and I can’t shake off the feeling that it’s all sound and fury signifying – well, what does it signify? Wigglesworth scores over Petrenko in having what sounds like a proper siren at the opening of the choral section – and during it; Petrenko uses the option to have the sound played by unison brass instruments. As mentioned above, the Dutch choir has more punch and body to their singing than their Liverpool rivals, valiant though the Merseysiders are.
In his note on the Third Symphony Mark Wigglesworth makes some interesting and important points. He observes that, though the symphony also concludes with a choral setting of a suitably revolutionary text it was not, unlike the Second, an official commission. In other words, the decision to write this work was Shostakovich’s and he himself selected the text that he set at the end. What does this tell us? Well Wigglesworth notes that by now Stalin was in power and, indeed, one of the composer’s own friends – the dedicatee of the First Symphony – had been liquidated. So perhaps Shostakovich was showing himself to be “on message”. However, the poem that he set in the Third Symphony is one that celebrates the revolutionary struggle of the workers rather than revolution and a leader such as Lenin – let alone Stalin – so perhaps, suggests Wigglesworth, Shostakovich is lauding the concept of proletarian revolution rather than the way it had been implemented – and perverted.
Wigglesworth’s recording is divided into seven tracks. He does the opening of this continuous, one-movement work (track 9) very well and after the surface innocence of that section there’s tremendous drive and purpose to the music that follows (tracks 10-11). Here the playing of the Dutch orchestra is very vital. The orchestra also excels in the glacial string episode (track 12) that foreshadows, I think, parts of the Fourth Symphony. Later on the climactic unisons over drum rolls towards the end of track 13 sound very impressive – the BIS recording reports the bass drum thwacks marvellously, so too the baleful tuba solo at the start of track 14. Once again Wigglesworth’s choir makes a splendid showing; I don’t care at all for the music they sing but they deliver the surface excitement with great fervour. This is the most convincing performance of the Third that I’ve heard; even so, I remain sceptical, though slightly less so than before. I note with some interest that Wigglesworth’s overall timing for the symphony is significantly shorter than Petrenko’s; he takes 27:51 against 31:10.
These are gripping performances, reported in superb sound and if you want Shostakovich’s first three symphonies in a package you shouldn’t hesitate. Perhaps it helps that Mark Wigglesworth has recorded these early works almost at the end of his slowly assembled cycle; is he able thereby to refract these scores through his experience of the later works? That must be the case. One question remains: would I have rated Vasily Petrenko’s performances differently had I heard Wigglesworth first? I think the honest answer to that is no. I still think Petrenko’s versions are very good. However, Wigglesworth’s interpretations are presented in superb sound and on balance I think he has the edge interpretatively and in terms of the quality of the singing and playing that he inspires.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Dvorák : Piano Trios 3 & 4 / Smetana Trio

This is the Smetana Trio playing Dvorák, not to be confused with the Dvorák Trio playing Smetana. Such is life in the world of Czech chamber music. But seriously, Supraphon alone has an abundance of recordings of these works, and no wonder. The F minor and Dumky trios probably are the two finest works in the trio medium from the second half of the 19th century, and they make ideal disc-mates, one a sort of apotheosis of Dvorák's work in traditional forms, the other an innovative and path-breaking essay in his popular nationalist idiom. This stupendous new recording rivals the celebrated Suk Trio interpretations for the same label both in technical mastery and interpretive insight; in short, it is second to none.
The program opens with the Dumky Trio, and right from the start you can tell that this is going to be a great performance. Passion and spontaneity unite with rhythmic precision and a real feeling for the dance. Listen to the natural rubato in the fourth movement that prevents the recurring march rhythms from ever turning stiff or mechanical (and notice how much this music resembles the finale of Shostakovich's Second Trio). I loved the lightness of rhythm in the next piece: so often its skipping 6/8 rhythm becomes an excuse to create a chamber version of Wagner's descent into Nibelheim. Not here, where careful attention to dynamics and a flowing tempo create an effortless feeling of movement. There isn't a second in this performance where you feel the music should be played any other way, and no praise can be higher than that.
If anything, these qualities are even more evident in the great F minor trio. The players fling themselves into the first movement with almost dangerous abandon--but notice how perfectly in tune the opening octaves are, and how perfectly balances are maintained even in the most turbulent episodes in the development section. As in the previous work, the scherzo benefits from the ensemble's rhythmic acuity; but it's the slow movement that's really special here. It's not only beautifully paced and phrased, but the ensemble obviously took as much care with transitions as with the melodies, and the result has a seamless continuity that belies the impression in less-adept performances of a movement consisting of a disjointed stream of incredibly pretty tunes.
In the finale, happily taking Dvorák's "con brio" admonition literally, the ensemble sails into the coda with such enthusiasm that the music seems self-propelled. The final turn to the major in the coda is absolutely thrilling, and the closing bars offer the ultimate in musical satisfaction. I started listening to this disc with the slow movement, thinking to sample a bit here and there, but the playing was so gripping that I played the disc through to the end, then went back and listened again from the beginning. It's that good, and the sonics have a true-to-life immediacy that permits these spellbinding interpretations to register with maximum impact. Without question, this is a very great recording, an essential acquisition whether you already love this music or just want to get to know it better.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Toscanini Collection Vol 58 - Verdi: Otello
The attack and dedication of chorus and orchestra are apparent throughout; so is the discipline and textual clarity on all sides. Nothing escapes Toscanini, yet at the same time nothing obtrudes in a manner that calls attention to itself—unless it be the conductor's groans and encouragement now more audible in the digital transfer. The sound remains dry but somehow this very close, confined quality accords with the work's own claustrophobic quality—if only Otello had gone out into the open air and thought about the reality of the evidence before him, he might not have been so easily caught up in Iago's web of deceit.
Valdengo's Iago continues to put all but Gobbi's (for Serafin on RCA-11/88; and Tibbett's, for Panizza) in the shade. His light, almost elegant and seemingly cheerful tone, his mordant, sinister delivery of the Credo, his insinuating and perfectly accurate delivery of the imagined Dream (Nucci ought to listen to its subtlety—Decca, 11/91) all tell of his willingness to follow Toscaninfs guidance, for he never sang so well for anyone else. This is a faultless performance. So, in terms of interpretation, is Vinay's Otello—the tormented, fearsomely commanding Moor to the life. It's only when you compare his too baritonal tone with Martinelli's (Music and Arts) or Pavarotti's incisive, Italianate delivery (Decca) or Domingo's absolute security (RCA, 3/87) that Vinay's thicker tone and the throb in it seem a shade below an ideal; but no one conveys better the sense of Otello's world falling about him. Nelli always turns out to be more satisfying than one expects, because her sincerity of purpose, her accuracy and her true tone compensate for a slightly pallid reading of Desdemona's thoughts and feelings. Certainly she makes more of the text than Dame Kin i Te Kanawa (Decca) and often sings with a finer line, while missing Rethberg's warmth on the Music and Arts version—and indeed the sense of suffering heard from Scotto (RCA/Levine). The smaller roles are all worthily taken.
Any incidental drawback should not prevent anyone hearing this overwhelming interpretation. Once the vivid storm is launched it is impossible to leave the performance until the tragic, stricken figure of Otello falls lifeless by his wronged wife's side: Toscanini identifies so sympathetically with the human condition, as did Verdi himself—and it is from Verdi, at whose feet he sat, that Toscanini learnt his trade.
-- Gramophone [3/1992]
Guarneri Quartet - The Complete RCA Victor Album Collection
In the early 1960s, four young musicians who had been playing chamber music at Rudolf Serkin’s Marlboro School and Festival in Vermont were encouraged to form a string quartet. In July 1964, the Guarneri Quartet gave its first concert and less than a year later made its first recordings under contract to RCA Victor. For the next 45 years, with only one change of personnel, the Guarneris performed all over the world and amassed a large, wide-ranging, prize-winning discography. Sony Classical now presents, for the first time in a single collection, all the recordings made by the Guarneri Quartet for RCA between 1965 and 2005.
When the announcement came of its retirement at the end of the 2008–09 season, the eminent British critic Rob Cowan wrote a perceptive, affectionate tribute to the Guarneri Quartet in Gramophone, comparing it to the Juilliard Quartet, the other superb ensemble that had dominated the American quartet catalogue for so many years. Using their respective Bartók recordings as an example, he contrasted the “cut-glass precision” of the Juilliard’s early-60s set to the Guarneri’s “volatile, free-spirited, generously expressive and tonally rich” performing style in its RCA cycle from the mid-70s.
That characterization of the Guarneri Quartet’s playing runs through virtually all the reviews garnered in their long recording career, a story that began with the 1966 release of two of Mozart’s late “Prussian” Quartets and an album coupling Dvořák and Smetana. HiFi Stereo Review wrote that “not since the Juilliard String Quartet set the New York music world on its collective ear some 25 years ago has a new chamber group created such a furor as the Guarneri Quartet on the occasion of its New York début in February, 1965. This pair of discs demonstrates eloquently what all the shouting was about, for these players – Arnold Steinhardt, John Dalley, Michael Tree, and David Soyer – blend precision with flexibility of phrasing and rhythm in a way not often encountered in contemporary American string groups. Here, indeed, is the influence of the seed bed from which the quartet stems – the Marlboro of Rudolf Serkin, Alexander Schneider, and Pablo Casals … To the Smetana [‘From My Life’] the Guarneri Quartet brings blazing intensity and fierce rhythmic verve, while the wonderful slow movement of the Dvořák [Op. 105] comes forth from the stereo speakers with an almost orchestral lushness, yet with inner voices flawlessly balanced.”
Other critics concurred in their reviews of these two LPs: “The foursome produces an unfailingly luscious tone, plays with letter-perfect intonation, and displays all sorts of felicitous pinpoint balances and coloristic effects. And how these gentlemen stay together … even in the most wayward of tempo changes. In short, this is ensemble work of a transcendental variety … The Guarneri Quartet is the most gifted group of its kind I have heard in years” (High Fidelity). “This is distinguished Mozart playing indeed. Its technical excellence needs little comment: as with the Dvořák/Smetana record … last month, with this team you take technical mastery for granted as soon as you hear the first phrase, and straightaway it's the intensely musical quality of the playing which strikes you. Theirs is Mozart played with the classical virtues, above all with firm line, poise and sensibility. The surface of the music is polished, but how much the Guarneri Quartet find beneath” (Gramophone).
Arthur Rubinstein was the quartet’s longtime keyboard partner. In 1966, they recorded the Piano Quintets of Schumann and Brahms: “Rubinstein and the Guarneris search out to equally convincing effect the flowingly lyrical aspects of the music, and this yields special rewards in a ravishing slow movement [the Brahms]” (HiFi Stereo Review). Dvořák’s followed in 1971: “The performance is beautifully balanced between the gentleman at the keyboard and the gentlemen with strings, and the sense of give and take comes from the experience of many collaborations” (High Fidelity).
They also recorded the piano quartet literature, beginning in 1967 with “beautiful performances” (High Fidelity) of Brahms. Their reading of Fauré’s Op. 25 in C minor was judged (also by High Fidelity) to be “beautifully played and exquisitely well reproduced. The instrumental lines are wonderfully clear in this highly directional recording … Rubinstein displays his regal style.” And in a disc containing both of Mozart’s piano quartets, “the playing throughout both sides is extremely beautiful … and superbly integrated – at once expressive and elegant, making all of Mozart’s points with clarity, straightforwardness, and the exalted give-and-take that is the life’s breath of real chamber music. The recorded sound, too, is exceptional for its richness, balance, and clarity” (HiFi Stereo Review).
One of many other composers who feature prominently in Sony’s Guarneri collection is Haydn. About the ensemble’s 1977 recording of the two Op.77 quartets, HiFi Stereo Review wrote that “these spirited, attractive performances of Haydn's two greatest string quartets are marked by a sense of real involvement. Articulation is crisp, ensemble is impeccable, and there is an organic flow from the first phrase to the last in each work”, while Gramophone praised their “deeply thoughtful, powerfully paced” 1986 reading of Haydn’s Seven Last Words.
With reinforcement from the Budapest Quartet in 1965, the Guarneris produced an “absolutely stunning performance (HiFi Stereo Review) of Tchaikovsky’s Souvenir de Florence sextet. In 1966, they recorded quartets by Mendelssohn and Grieg (the latter receiving its CD première in this set): “The Guarneri ensemble does itself proud throughout this disc – most notably in the Mendelssohn, in which they display a tonal homogeneity and a warmth of phrasing that are truly striking. It is as though one instrument, not four, were producing the lovely sound that emerges from the speakers. Happily, the RCA recording staff has come up here with a string quartet sonority of the utmost intimacy, yet endowed with just enough room tone to enhance the naturally warm tone of the Guarneris” (HiFi Stereo Review).
But the heart of any string quartet’s repertoire is inevitably the Beethoven cycle, and it is with these works that the Guarneris were most closely associated. They made their complete recording for RCA between 1966 and 1969. Gramophone described the Early Quartets as “elegant and buoyant, with well-chosen tempos, subtle bowing, crisp articulation, telling contrasts between staccato and legato, and a consistent sense of style.” HiFi Stereo Review enumerated the virtues of their Middle Quartets: “(1) excellent intonation; (2) glowing tone; (3) ensemble that is balanced and accurate but always flexible and natural; (4) superb phrasing and line-building; (5) good feeling for a high Beethoven style. These are strong and expressive readings that often achieve great poetic insight and a powerful dynamic impulse.” The HiFi Stereo Review’s critic rhapsodized over their Late Quartets: “If I had to make the choice of a very few records to take with me to a desert island, I’d choose recordings of the last five Beethoven string quartets. Now, with the arrival of this new album (complete with the Grosse Fuge) by the Guarneri Quartet, I’ve got my island package. All I need is the island. The Guarneri is, without a doubt, one of the most extraordinary string quartets before the public these days: the group has an absolutely stunning sense of both soloistic and ensemble color. Indeed, I can’t think of another string quartet that can match them for sheer sensuous appeal.”
SUMMARY:
• With the first release of the Guarneri Quartet’ recording of Mendelssohn’s Quartet No. 3, transferred and edited from the session reels using 24 bit / 192 kHz technology
• 9 quartet recordings for the first time on CD, transferred and mastered from the original analog tapes, 3 quartets remastered, using 24 bit / 192 kHz technology
• Includes collaborations with Arthur Rubinstein, Leonard Rose, Mischa Schneider, Pinchas Zukerman, Walter Trampler, Ida Kavafian, and more
• Original LP sleeves and labels, booklet with full discographical notes
Wuorinen: Music Of Two Decades Vol 3 / Miller, Fine Arts Quartet
It's a lot easier to tell you what the electronic piece, Time's Encomium, isn't: it isn't imitative of nature or acoustic musical instruments. If the point seems inappropriate or trivial, I remind the reader that a great deal of synthesized sound appears to exist for these kitsch aspirations. So then, while Times's Encomium in this narrow regard falls on the ear as abstraction pure but far from simple, I urge the reader not to conflate abstract with offputting. The piece abounds with playful energies. When disparate sounds interact as friskily as they do here, play of one kind or another, whether or not one knows the game's name, is obviously the thing, Wuorinen is the kind of cerebral practitioner who requires one's attention in a state of openness. We do not hear Time's Encomium transpiring toward a direction. The logic is rather that of extraordinary fireflies of various heft, hue, and gravitas. As anyone who's spent a country night outdoors, a lightshow's enjoyment need not connect with those forces that stage it. The listener is content (if he's wise) to perceive the co.nposer as firefly or, better yet, the firefly's First Mover. Wuorinen composed the work between 1968-69 at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center In New York.“ . . . The RCA synthesizer . . . is prejudiced by design toward 12-tone equal temperament . . . [I]f one accepts the limitation as a boundary condition . . . it ceases to be a problem. . . . Afterwards, I made the large-scale structure by processing the synthesized materials in one of the [center's] analog studios. Thus the work consists of a core of synthesized music, most of which appears in Part I, surrounded and interlarded with analog-studio transformations of that music. The synthesized [can be] identified by its clarity of pitch. . . . The processed almost always contains reverberation. Thus metaphorically, the listener stands in the midst of the synthesized music, which presents itself . . . with maximal clarity; and stretching away from him, becoming more and more blurred in detail, the various transformations . . .“ I assume that Wuorinen speaks in “standing] in the midst“ of the four-channel original, which one hears to his regret as a two-channel mixdown. We are back on my Fanfare hobby horse.
In no way strange to say, Wuorinen's Piano Sonata (No. 1, 1969) appears on its surface to share in those compositional impulses and schemata that yielded Time's Encomium. This seems to me especially true of the music's fast-paced, angular energies. Of particular interest is the sonata's performer, the late Robert Black. As others have for David Tudor, Wuorinen composed an obviously difficult work in large measure as a tribute to Black's strengths and sympathies. (Because music absorbs its background, we tend to overlook an executant's sometime part in a work's conception, no less its successful performance—which Black's certainly sounds to be.)
Wuorinen's comments about his here handsomely performed First String Quartet have the ring of a manifesto. “The [quartet of 1971] reflects fundamental concerns . . . with questions of large-scale form, in particular the issue of an appropriate developmental—or 'directed'—structure suited to a non tonal environment. I had already become . . . impatient with [much of new music's directionlessness] and wanted to establish formal procedures that would allow local flexibility while solidly undergirding a musical progress analogous to the very powerfully directed structure of tonality [my italics].“ Wuorinen then gives a summary of his solution, which need not detain us here. Enough to know what was then on the mind that remains aloof from a world, in too large part, of half-baked juvenalia. The String Quartet (No. 1) plays vis-à-vis the electronic and solo-piano work a tad richer in lyrical interest, in acknowledgement perhaps of a four-string ensemble's native soulfulness. The insert mentions an earlier Music & Arts CD of this Wuorinen quartet, with one of Milton Babbitt's, as an inferior transfer. While I haven't that disc to compare, the present digitization of an analog master sounds very good indeed. Again, the three volumes of this Wuorinen edition—there are no immediate plans for a fourth—address a need. All three volumes heartily recommended.
-- Mike Silverton, FANFARE [3/1997]
Di Vittorio: Sinfonias No 1 "isolation" And No 2 "lost Innocence" / Chamber Orchestra Of New York
DI VITTORIO Overtura Respighiana 1. Symphony No. 2, “Lost Innocence 1.” Ave Maria 2. Symphony No. 1, “Isolation 1.” Clarinet Sonata No. 1 3 • 1,2 Salvatore Di Vittorio, cond; 2 Respighi Choir; 3 Benjamin Baron (cl); 1 New York “Ottorino Respighi” CO • NAXOS 8572333 (56:52)
RESPIGHI Aria for Strings. Violin Concerto in A. Suite for Strings. Rossiniana: Suite • Salvatore Di Vittorio, cond; Laura Marzadori (vn); New York “Ottorino Respighi” CO • NAXOS 8572332 (77:32)
If Palermo-born Salvatore Di Vittorio (b.1967) is new to you (as he is to me), based on these two Naxos releases you might be justified in thinking he’s a third-generation relation to Italian composer Ottorino Respighi. That’s because as a conductor, Di Vittorio leads an ensemble he founded and named “Ottorino Respighi” Chamber Orchestra of New York in a program of works by Respighi. As an arranger, he revised and/or completed three of the works heard on the second of these two discs. And as a composer, Di Vittorio has been hailed as a “lyrical romantic … following in the footsteps of Respighi.” Though a reading of Di Vittorio’s biography on his website (salvatoredivittorio.com/bio.html) discloses no direct link to the former composer, it appears that Respighi is near and dear to Di Vittorio’s heart.
In a sense, you might say that in at least one of his compositions, Overtura Respighiana , Di Vittorio has channeled Respighi to write music that the real Respighi might have written himself, for the piece is a devilishly delightful concoction that plays on Respighi’s Rossiniana and Pines of Rome , fusing them with references to Di Vittorio’s own music, to create a kind of freshly minted Boutique fantasque.
The Symphony No. 2, titled “Lost Innocence,” on the other hand, does not, as far as I can tell, quote anything by Respighi, but the brilliant swatches of instrumental color Di Vittorio weaves into and through this striking musical tapestry is reminiscent of Respighi’s way with the orchestral palette. Di Vittorio tells us that the work was inspired by the tragedy of the Yugoslav civil wars in the late 1990s. Its four movements—“Requiem for a Child,” “Dance of Tears,” “Childheart,” and “Elegy: Marcia Funebre”—at least up until the finale, reflect a calm that is neither quiet nor peaceful, but one that builds toward a shattering, tragic ending.
The Ave Maria for a cappella women’s chorus is one of Di Vittorio’s conservatory works, written in 1995 (revised in 1998) after graduating from the Manhattan School of Music. At first it struck my ear as fairly dissonant, sounding almost like it could have been written by Penderecki, Lutos?awski, or Vasks, but as the piece unfolded, emerging from the harmonic counterpoint were passages that, with just a few minor adjustments to the voice-leading, sounded as if they might have come from a cappella moments in Verdi’s Requiem. Di Vittorio confirms that impression in his booklet note, stating that a number of influences run through the piece, from Palestrina and Monteverdi to Verdi, and that “in particular, certain resemblances may be traced to Verdi’s choral Ave Maria .” The effects of Di Vittorio’s piece are quite arresting, simultaneously stark and austere yet illuminated from within by a shimmering light that leads to a most meltingly beautiful cadential Amen.
The Symphony No. 1, titled “Isolation,” dates to one year before the Ave Maria but was revised in 1999. No borrowings from Respighi appear in this score either, yet his spirit hovers over it in the luminous divided string writing and exquisite chiaroscuro effects. This is a strings-only work, and according to Di Vittorio one of its influences was Vivaldi’s seldom-performed Sinfonia al Santo Sepolcro , RV 169, one of Vivaldi’s most harmonically tortured works, written in a highly chromatic idiom intended to represent Christ’s pain and suffering. For Di Vittorio, the “Isolation” Symphony is meant to depict man’s alienation from himself and his fellow man. If you were to listen to the piece without knowing that, I’m not sure you would necessarily pick up specifically on that theme. The music is sad, to be sure, even brooding, but more than once it put me in mind of Barber’s Adagio for Strings , a piece that is somehow uplifting in its tragedy.
The Di Vittorio-as-composer CD closes with another work revised in 1998, the Clarinet Sonata No. 1. Not reflected in its title is the fact that it’s a piece for unaccompanied clarinet, which is a bit of a challenge for both composer and performer, considering that a solo wind instrument, unlike a violin or cello, can’t make its own harmony by playing double-stops or chords. But I suppose if Bach and Debussy could write for unaccompanied flute, there’s no reason the solo capabilities of other wind instruments shouldn’t be explored. Di Vittorio notes that he drew inspiration and advice for the work from his father, Giuseppe, who was a clarinetist. Di Vittorio claims to have been influenced by Verdi, Brahms, Berlioz, and elements of French Baroque dance, though these elements are not easily discerned due to the nature of the music’s syntax and style, which consists largely of loosely connected contrasting phrases that never quite seem to coalesce into an identifiable whole. Nonetheless, Benjamin Baron’s very accomplished clarinet playing invites further listening and offers a promise that there is more to this piece than meets the ear on first hearing.
Critics can be a cruel lot—I know because I’m one of them—and there are those who will say, and already have, that music like this being written today is irrelevant. That’s a strong sentiment, for sure, but nowhere near as judgmental as someone like Pierre Boulez would be. He is quoted as having said that composers who write music like this simply don’t exist, prompting an acquaintance of mine to describe Boulez as “the Dr. Mengele of France.” With one wave of his hand, off you go to the gas chamber. My attitude, as expressed on a number of past occasions, is that beautiful music is beautiful music, regardless of when it’s written, and Di Vittorio proves himself with this CD to be a composer of beautiful music extraordinaire. I strongly recommend this release to you for many hours of listening pleasure.
The second of the two entries consists entirely of music by Respighi, though Di Vittorio has had a hand in the realization of three of the four of the works as heard on the disc. I’m not sure just how seriously Respighi was ever taken by critics and the academic elite, but thanks to a small number of works—primarily his Roman trilogy, the Ancient Airs and Dances suites, and La Boutique fantasque —he came to enjoy considerable exposure and popularity, especially in the U.S. Toscanini premiered the third number of the Roman trilogy, Feste Romane , with the New York Philharmonic in 1929, and then went on to record the piece for RCA twice, once in 1942 with the Philadelphia Orchestra and a second time with the NBC Symphony Orchestra in 1949, adding the Fountains of Rome in 1951 and the Pines of Rome in 1953. Toscanini wasn’t the only one to climb aboard the Respighi bandwagon. Mengelberg premiered the composer’s Toccata for Piano and Orchestra with the New York Philharmonic in 1928, and the Boston Symphony Orchestra commissioned Respighi’s Metamorphoseon for its 50th anniversary in 1931.
Yet of Respighi’s nearly 200 scores—among which are nine operas, five ballets, several concertos, quite a few chamber works, and a considerable volume of vocal and choral numbers—a good deal of it is unrecorded and rarely, if ever, performed. The reasons seem to be twofold. First, the critics and opinion-makers, while acknowledging the composer’s gift for colorful orchestration and pictorial illusionism, regarded the music as “derivative,” “cinematic,” and even “vulgar,” by which I prefer to think they meant lacking in substance and depth rather than tawdry and tasteless. The truth of the matter is that there is nothing any more cinematic or “vulgar,” if you choose to use that word, about Respighi’s The Fountains of Rome , written in 1916, than there is about Bloch’s Schelomo written a year earlier. But the second, and perhaps more serious, criticism Respighi faced—though it was largely unjustified—was that he was a supporter of Mussolini’s fascist regime. Evidence seems to suggest that Respighi didn’t have a political bone in his body, but it may have been his very passivity and silence that were damning.
The 24-year-old Respighi began work on a violin concerto in 1903. Only the first two movements were completed; the third remained in a piano reduction with just a few measures orchestrated. After analyzing the score, Di Vittorio made enhancements to the orchestration of the first two movements and completed the third using material from the other movements. Di Vittorio’s completion was premiered in New York in 2010. I note a 1994 recording of the concerto on a Bongiovani CD, but it is only of Respighi’s original first two movements. The current performances of both the concerto and the Aria for Strings, transcribed by Di Vittorio, are world premiere recordings. The concerto, which owes much to Vivaldi and early Mendelssohn, inhabits a world of lyrical sunshine that plays on the senses like a fresh breeze bearing scents of an Italian vineyard in spring. Thanks to the efforts of Di Vittorio, and the capable hands and sensitive voice of violinist Laura Marzadori, this romantically expressive score is brought to us complete for the first time.
The even earlier 1901 Aria, Respighi’s salute to his Italian heritage by way of Frescobaldi, Corelli, and, again, Vivaldi, found its way into the composer’s Suite in G Major for Strings and Organ. Di Vittorio makes of it a lovely air for string orchestra. Both the Aria and the Suite were revised or edited to prepare the very first printed editions (score and parts) of each score. Up until now, only manuscript copies of the score and parts existed for both works. Beyond this, Di Vittorio then made slight adjustments to the Aria to make it suitable for not only string orchestra but string quintet, in order to promote Respighi’s music in academic settings, such as conservatories and music colleges.
The booklet does not explain to what extent Di Vittorio “revised” Respighi’s Suite for Strings, cataloged as P 41. The piece is a six-movement suite in Baroque style that anticipates Respighi’s later and very popular Ancient Airs and Dances.
Six years after Respighi visited Rossini’s collection of piano pieces titled Les Riens (“Trifles,” aka “Sins of my Old Age”) for his ballet La Boutique fantasque in 1919, he returned to mine the mother lode again in 1925 for his Rossiniana Suite. It is given here in unaltered form and in a delightful performance by Di Vittorio’s “Ottorino Respighi” Chamber Orchestra of New York. As one of Respighi’s more popular works, there is of course serious competition in the suite, not least among which is a classic 1967 recording with Ansermet (one of his last) and the Suisse Romande Orchestra.
The current Naxos release, in addition to excellent performances and recording, offers to the Respighi fan a combination of never-before-heard music and works in never-before-heard transcriptions by Salvatore Di Vittorio. Strongly recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
The Most Happy Fella: 1992 Broadway Cast
Music and lyrics written by Frank Loesser.
Principal cast includes: Spiro Malas (Tony); Sophie Hayden (Rosabella); Claudia Catania (Marie); Buddy Crutchfield (Ciccio); Tad Ingram (Postman); Liz Larsen (Cleo); Mark Lotito (Pasquale); Bill Nabel (Giuseppe); Charles Pistone (Joe); Scott Waara (Herman).
Recorded at BMG Studio A, New York, New York on March 23, 1992.
Tracklist:
1. Prelude 1:13
2. Ooh, My Feet 2:15
3. I Know How It Is 4:33
4. Somebody, Somewhere 2:12
5. The Most Happy Fella 3:52
6. Standing on the Corner 2:40
7. A Long Time Ago 1:56
8. Joey, Joey, Joey 3:38
9. Rosabella 2:38
10. Abbondanza 1:39
11. Sposalizio 2:41
12. Benvenuta 3:04
13. Aren't You Glad 2:46
14. Don't Cry 3:25
15. Fresno Beauties 3:13
16. Love and Kindness 2:10
17. Happy to Make Your Acquaintance 3:56
18. Big 'D' 5:01
19. How Beautiful the Days 3:09
20. Warm All Over 2:15
21. I Like Everybody 1:46
22. My Heart Is So Full of You 3:11
23. Mama, Mama 2:49
24. Song of a Summer Night 2:54
25. Please Let Me Tell You 1:27
26. I Made a Fist 1:05
27. Finale 2:15
Cellobration / Amit Peled, Eliza Ching
CELLOBRATION • Amit Peled (vc); Eliza Ching (pn) • CENTAUR 3047 (59:30)
MENDELSSOHN On Wings of Song , op. 34/2. DAVIDOFF At the Fountain, op. 20/2. ECCLES Cello Sonata in g. GRANADOS Spanish Dance, op. 37/No. 5, “Andaluza” (“Playera”). FAURÉ Elégie. LIGETI Sonata for Solo Cello . BACH Pastorella in F. GLAZUNOV Chant du Ménéstrel. F. COUPERIN Pièces en Concert. CASALS Song of the Birds
Here is a collection of works for cello and piano both familiar and unfamiliar. Among the familiar are Fauré’s popular Élégie —albeit better known in its orchestral setting—transcribed for cello and piano, and Mendelssohn’s On Wings of Song , originally an actual song for voice and piano, that has been arranged and transcribed many times (Liszt and Heifetz both had a crack at it). In the unfamiliar category are a cello sonata by the virtually unknown Henry Eccles (1670–1742)—an English Baroque musician who ended up a member of Louis XIV’s King’s Band—and practically everything else on the disc, which though well known to cellists and often recorded, are not your usual fare on recital programs, except perhaps as encore pieces.
The Israeli-born Amit Peled plays a c.1689 cello by Andrea Guarneri, updated and fitted to modern standards. This, as far as I can tell, is only Peled’s second CD; the first, released in 2009 (Centaur 2988) was titled The Jewish Soul , and consisted of Jewish themed works, though not all necessarily by Jewish composers. For example, it included Bruch’s ubiquitous Kol Nidrei.
The “discovery” on this new disc is the Eccles sonata. Very little is known about this obscure violinist/composer, other than that he was born in England, was the elder brother to a more successful sibling John, whose success over his own he resented. Peeved by his perceived neglect, he moved to Paris, where he got himself hired on at the King’s court. What music he did write was either adapted from works by the Italian composer Giuseppe Valentini (1681–1753) or heavily influenced by them. In 1732, Eccles published 12 sonatas for gamba and figured bass; but according to the booklet note, the G-Minor Sonata given on the present CD is a transcription from an earlier set of violin sonatas. It takes the form of a typical sonata da chiesa (slow, fast, slow, fast), and considering its model, the piece, not surprisingly, is in an Italian style similar to what you would expect to hear from Vivaldi. What is perhaps surprising is that for a composer as virtually unknown as Eccles, there are five listed recordings of this sonata, going all the way back to a 1930 violin version played by Jacques Thibaud.
Latvian-born and Russian-trained, Carl (Karl) Davidoff (1838–89) was one of the great cello virtuosos of the 19th century. Tchaikovsky hailed Davidoff as “the tsar of cellists,” and the two men were friends and associates through their mutual connection to the St. Petersburg Conservatory. Davidoff’s At the Fountain is a popular encore piece that has had several recordings, including ones by Pieter Wispelwey, Miklós Perényi, and Jan Vogler. How would I describe the piece? A Flight of the Honeybee for cello: a nice little A-B-A form in which the bee leaves the hive and busily buzzes about to gather nectar and pollinate the petals (A), tarries momentarily to make love to a flower (B), and assisted by a tailwind returns home to the hive faster than it left (A).
From the 12 Spanish Dances by Enrique Granados, Peled plays a cello arrangement of the most popular number in the set, the No. 5. Titled Andaluza in the composer’s original version for piano, the piece has alternately come to be called Playera . It can be heard on some 140 recordings in arrangements for guitar, violin, voice, and in its original piano version, including by the composer himself. Nor does Peled have the field all to himself on cello. The piece has been recorded by Alban Gerhardt and Jamie Walton. One can easily appreciate the great popularity of the piece. Its guitar-like strumming accompaniment provides the underpinning for an alluring melody in the style of a seguidilla, a folksong or dance of Castillian origin. Bizet drew upon the seguidilla for his aria “Près des ramparts de Séville” in Carmen.
György Ligeti’s Sonata for Cello Solo has also received its fair share of recordings, one of which in particular, with Matt Haimovitz on Deutsche Grammophon, is especially noteworthy. Not unlike Paul Kletzki, the Jewish-Hungarian Ligeti (1923–2006) also suffered at the hands of both the Nazis and the Soviet Communists. The sonata heard here did not receive its first performance until 1983, but it’s an early work dating from the composer’s Hungarian period. In only two movements, its first was written in 1948, when Ligeti was 25; its second movement, five years later in 1953. The piece is clearly influenced by Bartók and Kodály. Glissando chords and pizzicato punctuate a melancholy “Dialogo,” marked adagio , followed by a moto perpetuo Capriccio, marked presto con slancio , a real test of the player’s mettle.
Bach’s F-Major Pastorella was originally composed as a four-movement suite for organ. Only its opening movement is heard here, but Bach recycled its concluding Gigue as the closing movement to the Brandenburg Concerto No. 3. According to the booklet note, this arrangement by Pablo Casals, in a handwritten score, was acquired by the Beaux Arts Trio’s cellist, Bernard Greenhouse, and from him passed to Peled.
Glazunov’s Chant du Ménéstrel (Troubadour’s Song) is almost as popular, if you count numbers of recordings, as the Granados Playera . Frankly, it’s little more than a sentimental salon piece that happens to have been made famous by Beatrice Harrison, the British cellist who had the distinction of being Elgar’s handpicked player to make the official HMV recording of the composer’s Cello Concerto under his direction.
When it comes to the Couperin Pièces en Concert , I wish I could cite its provenance definitively, but unfortunately, neither the CD’s track listing nor the booklet note identifies the specific set of suites whence it comes. Even more curiously, other recordings of the work, as well as other references to it, are equally silent on the subject. Finally, by searching for a combination of Couperin and Bazelaire, the work’s arranger, I hit upon a program note from the 2002 Tyalgum (New South Wales) Festival that asserts that Bazelaire’s arrangement is a mixed-movement compilation drawn from Couperin’s Nouveaux Concerts published in 1724.
If you check ArkivMusic’s listing for the Casals piece under its English title, Song of the Birds , you will find only this one recording by Peled. But there are a couple of others listed under its Spanish title, El Cant dels Ocells . I’d have expected more, including one by the renowned cellist himself. The piece is an arrangement of a traditional Catalan folk song, which embodies, in Peled’s words, “a spiritual communication.”
I’ve said nothing about the Mendelssohn or Fauré pieces because they’re so well known there’s nothing to say.
By all evidence, Amit Peled is a superb cellist. His technical prowess in the Davidoff and Ligeti vouchsafe that; and his tone, of pellucid purity, gleams with a glint of gold in the slow, lyrical numbers. As an introduction to the artistry of this fine up-and-coming young artist, this album showcases his versatility in a wide range of repertoire. But now that Peled has produced two CDs of what are essentially arrangements, encore pieces, and lighter fare—except for the Eccles and Ligeti sonatas—I look forward to hearing him in some of the more substantial repertoire for his instrument. Pianist Eliza Ching has a somewhat lesser role to play in some of these numbers, but she carries out her role as accompanist admirably. Recorded sound is excellent. Recommended for an hour’s worth of canapés to whet the appetite; now bring on the main course.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Milken Archive - Amram: Symphony, Etc / Wilkins, Et Al
Here we have three works by Philadelphia-born composer and “Renaissance man of American music” (according to the Boston Globe), David Amram (b. 1930). His biography is long and colorful, and, as always, fully documented by Neil Levin’s encyclopedic notes. In a nutshell, Amram has had a mixed musical and cultural background, studying at the Manhattan School of Music under Vitttorio Giannini, Gunther Schuller, and Dimitri Mitropoulos, while simultaneously becoming involved with a number of prominent jazz musicians and ensembles. He has written a considerable amount of music, from incidental scores to Shakespeare plays, Ibsen’s Peer Gynt, Camus’s Caligula, and plays by Eugene O’Neill and T. S. Eliot; to the sound track for an experimental documentary film by Jack Kerouac; to a number of well-known film scores, including Splendor in the Grass, the Manchurian Candidate, and The Young Savages; to over 100 orchestral and chamber works. Amram’s 1987 Symphony, subtitled “Songs of the Soul,” is in some respects similar to Weisgall’s T’kiatot discussed above. Programmatic movement titles notwithstanding, it is a three-movement orchestral score that may be heard as purely abstract music. The work reflects Amram’s interest in authentic Jewish/Oriental ethnic musical modalities. Put that together with the composer’s film-score background, and you have a richly Romantic, exotically perfumed work that could play well as the sound track for a Biblical docudrama. Don’t get me wrong. This is gorgeous sounding music. I’m just trying to describe it and put it into context so you’ll know what to expect. It is performed here by Christopher Wilkin conducting the Berlin Rundfunk Orchestra, in co-production with German Radio and the ROC Berlin.
In 1960, Amram became yet another recipient of one of Cantor Putterman’s commissions to write a liturgical work for his long-running Sabbath Eve Service program. For more information on Putterman and his program, please see the entry under Diamond noted above in Fanfare 27:7. From Amram’s Shir L’erev Shabbat we hear five numbers. According to Neil Levin’s notes, the work was premiered in 1961, but the CD back-flap dates it 1965, perhaps referring to a subsequent performance at the Hebrew Congregation in Washington, DC. Make no mistake about it, Amram is at heart a Romantic composer. The melodic and harmonic language is liberally spiced with 20th-century seasonings, but the idiom remains essentially tonal.
Much the same can be said of the three excerpts heard here from The Final Ingredient (1966), Amram’s second opera. In fact, passages from scene 5, the first of the three excerpts, kept reminding me of the section near the end of Verdi’s Requiem where the solo soprano is set against a cappella choir. The literary reference at least may be an appropriate one in that Amram’s opera is a Holocaust story that tells of the indomitable spirit of a group of Belsen concentration camp inmates determined to observe the ritual of the Passover Seder. The “final ingredient” refers to the egg, one of the items required for the traditional Passover plate, and the one that symbolizes the renewal and continuity of life. As the headnote indicates, a large cast is involved in the production. I hesitate to single out any individual vocal soloist, for all are outstanding, but I will give special mention to Kenneth Kiesler and the University of Michigan Opera Chorus and Orchestra, who do a superb job of cementing together what might otherwise turn unwieldy.
Jerry Dubins, FANFARE
Click here to view all available releases in the Milken Archive Series at ArkivMusic.
Brahms: Early Piano Works Vol 2 / Hardy Rittner
BRAHMS Piano Sonatas: No. 1 in C; No. 3 in f • Hardy Rittner (pn) • MDG 9041538 (Hybrid multichannel SACD: 67:51)
“One of the best new solo Brahms albums to come my way in quite some time” was how I described Volume 1 of Hardy Rittner’s survey of Brahms’s early piano works in 32:1. Volume 2 adds the First and Third Sonatas to the Second Sonata, Variations on a Theme of Schumann , and ballades previously released. For this recording, Rittner plays a slightly earlier piano, one made in 1849–50, from the workshop of Ignaz Bösendorfer. On Volume 1, he played an instrument made in 1851.
I’ve always wondered why Brahms never wrote another piano sonata after having written three huge and enormously difficult essays in the form before his 21st birthday. It wasn’t for lack of wanting to. We know that his initial sketches for what would eventually become the D-Minor Piano Concerto began as a sonata for two pianos. The same is true of the F-Minor Piano Quintet, which Brahms did preserve and publish as op. 34b. But in both cases, these were conceived for two keyboards, not one. Brahms was an accomplished pianist, appearing publicly in that capacity on a regular basis, so one would think that the solo piano sonata would have been a logical vehicle for him to exploit. My conjecture—and it’s just that—is that even though the piano, by every evidence of the sound of the instrument on this disc (an instrument of exactly the same vintage as the sonatas), had evolved to its approximately modern-day state, it was still incapable of producing the symphonic sound and textures Brahms was able to achieve in his chamber works that joined piano with strings. The Bösendorfer here—serial number 1665—is of the new rounded case design with separate fallboard, a compass of seven octaves, and a length of over seven and a half feet. It also has both damper and una corda pedals.
A reading of any history of the piano’s evolution will tell you that, except for body length, which increased to approximately nine feet in the early 20th century, and continuing refinements to the frame and key mechanisms, most of the technical innovations, such as the double escapement action, the single piece cast iron frame, felt-covered hammers, the sostenuto pedal, and over-stringing were all inventions and improvements of the 19th century, some dating from even before Brahms was born. So, for all intents and purposes, Rittner’s Bösendorfer is much closer to a Steinway Model D than it is to any instrument Mozart would have known.
The sonic impact of this hybrid multichannel SACD is palpable, as it was on Volume 1. I find myself, however, not quite as wowed by Rittner’s readings of these two sonatas as I was by his previous release. His playing, technically, is still most impressive. But he is competing here against a number of pianists who have earned very high marks in this repertoire. I’m thinking in particular of Emanuel Ax and Mikhail Rudy. What seems ever so slightly lacking to me in Rittner’s performances is Brahms’s youthful exuberance, the sense of a young man barely out of his teens feeling, if not sowing, his oats. There’s just a bit of reserve or holding back in some of the go-for-broke passages, where Ax and Rudy throw caution to the winds and abandon themselves to Brahms’s unleashed passions.
This is a very minor criticism and should not put anyone off from acquiring this disc. Just to hear these works performed on an instrument that Brahms himself might have played, and captured in a recording of such depth and physical presence, is enough to offset any trifling reservation I may have expressed. If Rittner and MDG are planning a full run at all of Brahms’s works for solo piano, I definitely look forward to future installments.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
The King And I / 1964 Lincoln Center Cast Recording
* Richard Rodgers oversaw this production, which stars Risë Stevens and TV perennial Darren McGavin.
* Includes the first complete version of the "Uncle Tom's Cabin" ballet sequence.
The King and I, one of the most appealing, tender and completely delightful musicals by the unparalleled collaborators Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II, was the ideal choice as the first production of the Music Theater of Lincoln Center.
Based on Margaret Landon’s best-selling novel Anna and the King of Siam, the musical, first produced in 1951, tells the story of Anna Leonowens, an attractive mid-Victorian English widow, who has come to Bangkok at the request of the King of Siam to tutor his 67 children and palace of many wives through exposure to Western culture.
This 1964 production starred international opera singer Risë Stevens as Anna and Darren McGavin as the King. Others in the great cast include Lee Venora, Patricia Neway and Frank Porretta.
Risë Stevens, a Juilliard graduate, had established herself with many outstanding performances including that of Octavian in Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier and she later became the Met's leading mezzo-soprano. She sang with an equal commitment to beauty and excellence in serious opera, Hollywood film scores and Broadway musicals.
Darren McGavin, best known to TV viewers for his role in the series Kolchak: The Night Stalker, and his delightful portrayal as the grumpy Hoosier Dad and in the Jean Shepard classic film A Christmas Story, also appeared on Broadway stages in several noted productions including this one before returning more heavily into film and TV. His portrayal of the King of Siam is regal and commanding.
On the delightful bonus tracks, offered only on this CD there are performances of some of the memorable songs from this musical sung by Dinah Shore, Robert Merrill and Richard Kiley. The bonus tracks were actually recorded a few days before the show’s 1951 premiere at the St James Theater. Dinah Shore’s “I Whistle a Happy Tune,” Robert Merrill’s “A Puzzlement” and the version of “I Have Dreamed” that partners Patrice Munsel and Tony Martin come from an RCA Victor studio recording with Al Goodman and Henri Rene conducting. Shore and Martin were top-selling pop singers, and Munsel and Merriill crossed over from the opera stage. Their performances are a souvenir of another era, when Broadway musicals were the source of top-40 pop hits. Richard Kiley’s bonus tracks come from the singer/actor’s 1959 RCA Victor studio recording of Rodgers and Hammerstein songs, recorded in the wake of Kiley’s Tony Award winning performance in Redhead.
These bonus tracks, all cover versions, present arrangements that are fascinatingly different from the great songs within the context of the original show. Being pop arrangements, they were designed to appeal to casual listeners yet they also remain a part of the pop-culture legacy of The King and I.
- Excerpted and based on the liner notes.
The King and I - Music Theater of Lincoln Center revival recording.
Music by Richard Rodgers, lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein.
Principal cast includes: Risë Stevens, Darren McGavin, Lee Venora, Frank Porretta, and Patricia Neway.
Franz Allers, conductor.
Bonus tracks include tracks by Richard Kiley, Dinah Shore and Robert Merrill.
Recorded 1964, in the Music Theater of Lincoln Center, New York, NY.
Directed by: Edward M. Greenberg.
Orchestrations by Robert Russell Bennett Tracks:
Act I:
1. The King and I - Overture / Franz Allers
2. I Whistle A Happy Tune / Risë Stevens; James Harvey
3. My Lord And Master / Lee Venora
4. Hello, Young Lovers / Risë Stevens
5. March Of The Siamese Children / Franz Allers
6. A Puzzlement / Darren McGavin
7. Getting To Know You / Risë Stevens
8. We Kiss In A Shadow / Lee Venora; Frank Porretta
9. Shall I Tell You What I Think Of You? / Risë Stevens
10. Something Wonderful / Patricia Neway
Act II:v 11. Western People Funny / Patricia Neway
12. I Have Dreamed / Lee Venora;Frank Porretta
13. The Small House Of Uncle Thomas / Lee Venora
14. Shall We Dance? / Risë Stevens;Darren McGavin
15. Something Wonderful (reprise)
Simeon Ten Holt: Solo Piano Music Vol 1-5 / Jeroen Van Veen
TEN HOLT Canto Ostinato. Natalon in E . Aforisme II. Solo Devil’s Dances I–IV. Eadem Sed Aliter • Jeroen van Veen (pn) • BRILLIANT 9434 (5 CDs: 320:09)
This set is designated as Simeon ten Holt: Solo Piano Music Volumes I-V , so one assumes that another release will follow it in due course. This is good news to those of us who have been bitten by the ten Holt bug, and who are snapping up every release that becomes available. In the United States, the situation is now much better than it was just a few years ago, and it is better, in large part, due to the efforts of pianist Jeroen van Veen (and Brilliant Classics), who, with colleague pianists, and by himself, has been busily recording ten Holt’s often mammoth works for one or multiple pianos. He is not the only world-class pianist to be interested in ten Holt’s music, however, but we will get to that point later.
In Fanfare 35:6, I had a lot to say about Canto Ostinato , albeit in a performance by two pianists, namely van Veen and his wife, Sandra. This was included in van Veen’s Minimal Piano Collection, Volumes X-XX set (Brilliant Classics 9171). I’m going to beg the editor’s indulgence by repeating all of it here:
Simeon ten Holt’s Canto Ostinato , [is] an even more large-scale classic that occupied the composer between 1976 and 1979, and a work that has attained a fair measure of popularity, at least in Europe. (I think its time will come in the United States; all it needs is the right set of circumstances.) Like several of ten Holt’s works, Canto Ostinato gives its performers plenty of flexibility. The score states the composer’s preference for performances with four pianos, but he has enthusiastically endorsed Jeroen and Sandra van Veen’s two-piano realization presented here, and it also has been performed with twelve pianists on five pianos! (Other keyboard instruments are possible too.) The score has 106 sections. Performers can use their own discretion concerning dynamics, articulation, the number of repetitions, and the use and combination of alternative parts. It can last for a half hour or longer than two. The composer writes, “A performance of Canto is more like a ritual than a concert. The piece is not in a hurry.” For me, three factors lend the work its peculiar magic. The first is related to rhythm. Each bar is in 10/16 time, overlaid with 2/4 to create two groups of 5/16. Each “quintuplet” is subdivided into 2+3 or 3+2. What this creates, in the listener, is the curiously dance-like sensation of even unevenness, if you will. The second factor is melodic. At first, there is no melody, in the usual sense of the word. However, over time, an angelic “canto” starts to coalesce, like a picture puzzle slowly coming together. When this “canto,” after many teasing minutes of development, reaches its maturity, the cumulative effect, if you have been paying attention, is literally awesome. (I never fail to weep when I get to section 74 of Canto Ostinato , and I have had a similar experience with Meandres , a ten Holt composition from 20 years later.) Having attained seeming Nirvana, ten Holt (or the performers), then evolves away from it almost immediately, and so Canto Ostinato , on this level, becomes a piece about expectation, and not just achievement but also frustration. It’s a very Zen experience. The third factor is related to community. A successful performance of Canto Ostinato depends upon communication and coordination among the performers. One senses (in the present performance, and in others I have heard) that a sort of hive mentality is at work, or that one is listening, not just to a ritual, but to a biological process. Much as I love music, I would rarely describe it as organic. For me, there are two prominent exceptions, though: some of Sibelius, and all of Simeon ten Holt.
Of course, the present recording, which dates from the fall of 2012 (like everything else in this collection), removes the third factor enumerated above because all of these are solo performances. I think I understand ten Holt’s preference for performances, at least of Canto Ostinato , involving multiple pianos. Played solo, the music remains highly effective, but the ineffable and moving sense of community is absent here. Otherwise, it is striking how similar this new solo recording of Canto is to the one by van Veen and his wife in the Minimal Piano Collection set. The total timing (78:15) is just a minute shorter than its predecessor, and isn’t it convenient that it all fits on one CD? (A four-piano version recorded in the ’80s and released by Composer’s Voice/Donemus lasts over 150 minutes and requires three discs, and let me tell you, those disc-changes are a real letdown!) There’s no sense that the music’s development is being rushed, but I think, generally speaking, the more performers one has, the longer it takes to perform it effectively. In a review of piano music by Philip Glass (also in this issue), I commented that van Veen was a more subjective performer than the composer himself. In ten Holt’s music, however, I find that van Veen is less personal—which I suppose is another way of saying less romantic—than other pianists who have recorded it, namely Ivo Janssen (on Void), and on the aforementioned three-CD extravaganza, Gerard Bouwhuis, Gene Carl, Cees van Zeeland, and Arielle Vernède. Still, I have every reason to believe that van Veen’s playing realizes the composer’s intentions completely.
So, where this new release really comes into its own is in the remaining four discs, because this is great music too, and there is less competition. (In some cases, I think, there is none at all, at least on disc.) Solo Devil’s Dance I was composed in 1959 and lasts only 4:10. The remaining three works in this series are much later (1986, 1990, and 1998, respectively) and much longer too: 67:43, 45:55, and 38:41. The first is an etude whose basis is an essentially unrelenting triple rhythm passed from one hand to the other, with a—well, impish counterpoint. No surprise: It sounds utterly unlike anything else on these discs, but one can sense the presence of ten Holt’s mind, even if one can’t exactly hear ten Holt’s voice. With the second, we are back in familiar, i.e., minimalist, territory. An odd, nervous rhythm and a melodic pattern are quickly established, and over the course of 67 minutes it is developed. With Philip Glass, one senses that his favorite geometric shape is a square. Ten Holt, on the other hand, probably was enamored of pentagons and heptagons. Solo Devil’s Dance II is jazzy, without ever turning into jazz, and eternally unsettled. As in Canto , tension rises, is dissipated, and rises again; Glass is rarely this dramatic. It sounds like a terrible finger-buster for any pianist, but I imagine stamina and concentration are even bigger issues. Fortunately, listeners don’t have to fear for the fingers. If they are receptive, their concentration should be stimulated by the ever changing but always the same landscape of shifting accents, phrase lengths, and by each new section of the score (there are 111!) in which a new puzzle piece, or a new clue (if you will) is added. Kees Wieringa’s version of this work can be downloaded as an mp3 from Amazon. I haven’t heard more than an excerpt—I have yet to feel that downloaded mp3s are worth my time and money, so any comparisons I make with mp3s in this review are based solely on brief excerpts—but for what it’s worth, Wieringa’s version is only 28 seconds longer. Ivo Janssen’s mp3 is only half as long, and is a little slower.
Solo Devil’s Dance III is built on similar plans, but it strikes me as a more genial piece. If its predecessor is obsessive, it is cheerfully industrious, as if one were overlooking a sort of musical factory in which the workers are notes and their products are phrases and successively larger musical structures. The music burbles along happily, and it really does seem to dance. One wonders if the melodic material’s resemblance, at times, to Till’s theme from Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche was accidental. Otherwise, there is nothing demonic here! In fact, extended sections in the piano’s stratosphere suggest fairies, perhaps from A Midsummer Night’s Dream , more than anything horned. Wieringa’s mp3 is almost 20 minutes shorter, as he moves through the work’s 77 (!) sections!
What makes the Solo Devil’s Dances demonic, perhaps, is the demands that they place on the performer. (Van Veen is certainly up to their various challenges.) An additional demonic element that appears in Solo Devil’s Dance IV is a fixation with the interval of a tritone, the “diabolus in musica.” This piece is a particularly cruel task for the pianist, as it is fast, lengthy, and more intricate in its patterning than its predecessors. If Solo Devil’s Dance II is obsessive, this last member of the family carries obsession to its most driven extremes. It’s an etude from hell. At 18: 14, Ivo Janssen’s mp3 of this work is only half the length of van Veen’s performance, and he adopts a somewhat slower tempo, so clearly he takes fewer repeats than van Veen. (As I mentioned above, in my description of Canto , ten Holt’s scores generally give performers a lot of latitude.) This work contains 89 “separate musical objects,” which I suppose is just another way of indicating “sections.” This was ten Holt’s final work, although he did not die until 2012.
Earlier, I used the phrase, “ever changing but always the same.” That is a rough English translation of the Latin phrase Eadem Sed Aliter , the title of a work in 113 sections from 1995 also included in this collection. To quote from the booklet note (van Veen’s?), “the left hand is shifted two sixteenths from the right hand—this creates a big challenge for the thumbs of both hands, like in the music of Franz Liszt where the thumbs were first used to play melodies. The ping-pong-style playing with accents, together with building layers (getting louder and softer), turn this into an interesting piece.” The music has a plaintive quality, as if it were begging to be released from its unceasing activity and lack of resolution (harmonic and otherwise). As with the other works in this collection, I can’t even begin to imagine the endurance and concentration required to perform it, and van Veen has both my admiration and my sympathy! An mp3 by Janssen is a few minutes shorter (33: 49), and in this work, his tempo is even faster than van Veen’s. Madness!
The two remaining works date from the 1970s. Aforisme II (1974) is receiving its first recording here. It is, in a sense, the seed that produced Canto Ostinato , as it is a 6/8 version of the Canto melody, with an accompaniment of broken chords (imagine a barcarolle.) The Chopinesque bit of sweetness is just four minutes long, and, if a score were to be published, I predict it would quickly appear on every third teenage piano student’s recital. Natalon in E also is atypical. There are five movements in contrasting tempos and moods, and ranging from four to 11 minutes in length. The material in each movement is characteristic of ten Holt, but its development is far more concise. Like Aforisme II , this is ten Holt “lite,” although I don’t mean to denigrate it with that adjective, only to imply that it is more accessible to performers and listeners who might not generally be interested in Minimalism or “contemporary music,” whatever that is.
The booklet contains, in addition to unsigned notes about some (not all, unfortunately) of the works, a short essay about the composer himself, and about van Veen as an interpreter of his music. This originally appeared in Fanfare 33:5 and is written by Alan Swanson, who took advantage of the opportunity to bang the drum for ten Holt before I did. I’m glad he did. Since I discovered it a few years ago, Simeon ten Holt’s music has become important to me; it has given me great intellectual and emotional satisfaction. I am very happy that Jeroen van Veen’s advocacy, not least through these recordings, has made it easier for new audiences to become exposed to it. Please, however you do it, introduce yourself to Simeon ten Holt.
FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle