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SaleRespighi: The Birds; Three Botticelli Pictures; Suite In G Major / Di Vittorio, Chamber Orchestra Of New York
Naxos · May 2014CD$19.99$9.99 -
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SalePaderewski: Songs and Mélodies - Suite in G Major / Smolij, Adamski, Schmidt, Capella Bydgostiensis
Naxos · Sep 2021CD$19.99$9.99 -
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Saint-Saëns: Piano Concerto No. 5 - Ravel: Piano Concerto in
Idil Biret Archive · Sep 2009CD$14.99 -
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Oswald: Piano Concerto - Saint-saens: Piano Concerto No. 5 'egyptian'
SOMM Recordings · Aug 2020CD$20.99 -
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Bruch: Violin Concerto No. 1; Mozart: Violin Concertos Nos. 4 & 5 / Sargent, Heifetz
Sony Masterworks · Apr 2011CD$11.98 -
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Marcello: Psalms And Sonatas / Lydia Cevidalli, Ensemble Salomone Rossi
Dynamic · Jan 2021CD$12.99 -
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Respighi: The Birds; Three Botticelli Pictures; Suite In G Major / Di Vittorio, Chamber Orchestra Of New York
One of Respighi’s masterpieces, Gli uccelli (The Birds) includes transcriptions of birdsong and music of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in writing of evocative, captivating lyricism. Trittico botticelliano, an illustration of three paintings by Botticelli, employs dance rhythms, modal melodies and a variant of the medieval hymn Veni, Veni Emmanuel in deft, often sublime fashion. The Suite in G major, cast for strings and organ in the form of a Concerto grosso, is heard on this première recording in its original edition.
The Berlin Concert
Paderewski: Songs and Mélodies - Suite in G Major / Smolij, Adamski, Schmidt, Capella Bydgostiensis
Although Paderewski is more readily associated with his career as a legendary virtuoso pianist, his modest output of 70 orchestral, instrumental and vocal works deserves to be more widely known. Prominent among his vocal output is a series of early songs that reveal natural flowing patterns while exploring both melancholy and folk idioms. The Douze Mélodies, written at the end of his compositional career, is the most original and striking Polish set of songs of the period, notable for dissonance, chromaticism and a palette of rich and unusual musical colors, to which this orchestral arrangement adds a whole new dimension. Little known, the early Suite in G major offers youthful warmth and brio.
Tartini: Sonatas For Violin Solo Vol 1 / Crtomir Siskovic
As Petrobelli wrote, Tartini's "declared intent was to achieve in the instrumental field, with a language suited to the nature of the instrument, the affections that are perfectly outlined in the arias of Metastasio's operas." The first sonatas of the collection are mostly structured in three movements, with a slow movement followed by two fast ones, as was Tartini's favourite scheme from the eighth sonata, instead, the structure in four movements becomes predominant, with a rich variety of formal patterns. Some movements bear mottos and literary quotations (like Metastasio's arias, frequently used also in the concertos, or Tasso's Aria Lieto ti prendo with which Tartini opens his Sonata No. 12 in G major, taken from the 12th canto of the Gerusalemme liberata). In them Tartini makes a fine display of his inexhaustible melodic creativity, always shunning easy symmetries and predictable developments. There are many passages with polyphonic hints, although virtuosity always appears subject to expressiveness and never a simple show of bravura. Frequent also are the hints and melodic inflections echoing popular songs and dances of the day, as for example in the Canzone Venetiana of the Sonata No. 12 in G major, or the second movement (Allegro assai) of the Sonata No. 5 in F major. Tartini is never obvious and even less predictable secluded in his Padua, he was a self-contained composer who disdained the world around him and possessed the creative power typical of - indeed, almost exclusive to - great anachronistic men.
J. S. Bach: The English Suites
Kammermusik mit Jorg Demus / Irnberger, Demus
Haydn: Piano Trios / Kalichstein-Laredo-Robinson Trio
REVIEW:
[In] Haydn’s piano trios...it takes only a hint of overstatement to undermine it completely. Fortunately, this disc, which includes four of Haydn’s relatively late trios (three of them written at the same time as the London symphonies) is almost entirely without blemish. The Kalichstein– Laredo–Robinson Trio combines three formidable soloists who came together in 1977. Joseph Kalichstein’s keyboard technique is impeccable, with a consistent evenness and lightness of touch that is simply breathtaking. Jaime Laredo, in the main sparkling in his performance, has a slight tendency to over-emphasis, although generally there is a marvellous sense of ebullience in the playing. This disc includes the G major Trio (Hob XV/25) with its famous ‘Gypsy’ Rondo, but for collectors of ‘purple patches’, the E minor Allegretto of Hob XV/28 with its enigmatic chromatic theme in octaves will certainly surprise. A disc to treasure.
Performance: 5 (out of 5; Sound: 5 (out of 5)
-- Annette Morreau, BBC Music Magazine
Rameau: The Complete Keyboard Music, Vol 3 / Gutman
RAMEAU Suites: No. 4 in A/a; No. 5 in G/g. La Dauphine. Les petits marteaux. RAMEAU-GUTMAN Pièces de clavecin en concerts: Concert No. 5 in D/d. RAMEAU-BALBASTRE Pigmalion: Giga • Stephen Gutman (pn) • TOCCATA 0052 (68:48)
I am always overjoyed to hear a new recording of Rameau’s keyboard music performed on the piano; it is a repertoire which I find completely underappreciated by most pianists today who favor the works of either Bach or Scarlatti for their recital programs. For whatever the inexplicable reasons, it is both their loss in playing this repertoire and ours in hearing it performed on an instrument capable of such tonal nuances as benefits this music. That said: This is the third and last of Stephen Gutman’s recordings of the complete keyboard music of this master, but only the first that I’ve heard. After playing this disc over and over again this month, I’ll be sure to run—not walk!—to my nearest shop to obtain the first two releases which I’ve missed out on thus far.
Luckily for me, Gutman here performs two of Rameau’s greatest keyboard suites—the one in A-Minor/Major, which ends with the virtuosic Gavotte with six variations (or doubles as he labels them), most likely modeled on the “Air and Variations” from Handel’s D-Minor Suite, and the one in G Major/Minor, which includes some of the most famous of Rameau’s excerpted pieces—“La poule,” “Les sauvages,” “L’enharmonique,” and “L’egiptienne,” among others. From the very first notes of the opening A-Minor Allemande, the pianist’s sense of exploration, his wide tonal palette, and his rhythmic freedom can all be heard to good advantage, along with his intimate and scholarly knowledge of these works—from correct ornamentation to matters of tempo. Importantly, the pianist looks to characterize each of these movements in their own particular way, and does so well—from the serious Courante to the intimate Sarabande, from the athletic and virtuosic “Les trois mains” to the exuberant and joyful “La triomphant.” Perhaps the only aspect I miss a bit comes in the concluding Gavotte, where just a bit more bombast could surely do no harm; here the minute characterization of each variation takes away from the inherent drive to the end which should pervade the entire set. As the following Suite in G is comprised of mostly named movements— à la Couperin—it benefits even more so from Gutman’s quick and profound characterization: “La poule,” being one of the best examples, demonstrates just how quickly he can portray these musical numbers. From the opening repeated-note gesture one is pulled in, only to be startled by the quick flourishes which drive the music forward. The ornaments found throughout the piece are hardly simple trills or mordents—rather, they are sounds of the hen herself. Though “Les sauvages” could be a bit more brutal in character, the pianist’s tendency to emphasize the gallant and graceful aspects in the music is in keeping with the age. “L’egiptienne” makes for a mysterious, yet rousing, conclusion.
The other works here include two transcriptions—one made by Gutman of the Concert No. 5 from the Pièces de clavecin en concerts , which includes three movements (“La Forqueray,” “La Cupis,” and “La Marais”) and the Giga from Pigmalion , possibly transcribed by one Claude-Bénigne Balbastre. Of the two works, the former is the more impressive piece, originally conceived, as is was, for a chamber ensemble of strings and keyboard; the opening work, “La Forqueray,” is actually a four-part fugue, which Gutman carefully choreographs for performance on a single keyboard—no small feat! While there are, of course, interesting little details left out, Gutman is careful to capture the most important aspects of the piece, in both transcription and performance.
Throughout this very fine recital Gutman proves himself a guide of the first order—not only does he understand this music both inside and out, he never allows the scholar in him to inhibit the performer; rather he uses the knowledge to bring out the best in this music. And while I may have my quibbles about matters of performance, there is hardly a movement in the entire recital that will not charm and delight the most judgmental of listeners. Recorded in generally good, though somewhat dry, sound and accompanied by excellent program notes (both by Graham Sadler and the pianist himself), this is a release to savor. Recommended.
FANFARE: Scott Noriega
V5: THE COMPLETE DUOS
Harold Truscott: Piano Music, Vol. 1
Dvorak in America
Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904) Gabriela Benackova, soprano; Josef Suk, violin & violaJaroslav Soucek, baritone; Josef Hala, pianoCzech Philharmonic Chorus; Prague Philharmonia;Czech Philharmonic Orchestra; Panocha Quartet; Smetana Quartet Symphony no 9 in E minor, Op. 95/B 178; Te Deum, Op. 103;String Quartet no 12 in F major, Op. 96/B 179Sonatina in G major for Violin & Piano, Op. 100/B 183String Quartet no 3 in E flat major, Op. 97/B 180Silent Woods for Cello & Orchestra, Op. 68 no 5/B 182Rondo in G minor for Cello & Orchestra, Op. 94 /B 181Humoresque, Op 101 no 7/B 187; Suite in A major, Op. 98b/B 190Cello Concerto no 2 in B minor, Op. 104/B 191
Saint-Saëns: Piano Concerto No. 5 - Ravel: Piano Concerto in
Bach: Cello Suites / Mstislav Rostropovich
BACH Cello Suites Nos. 1–6 • Mstislav Rostropovich (vc) • SUPRAPHON 4044-2, mono (2 CDs: 123:52) Live: Prague 5/26–27/1955
Although this set was released over two years ago, it only came to my attention more recently (and via a pirate clone on the Documents label at that). I then held off on writing a review, hoping that one of my Fanfare colleagues with expertise in string instruments would take the task in hand instead. As that has not occurred, I will now venture in where angels fear to tread. While Rostropovich did of course record the set of cello suites near the end of his career, for EMI in 1995 (issued on both CD and DVD; see the review of the former by David K. Nelson in 19:1), the release of another cycle from 40 years before, from the dawn of his career in 1955, is a major event that demands attention.
This recording was made at the annual Prague Spring Festival, when the cellist was but 28 years old. (It is also a notable occasion in that Rostropovich there met his wife, the famed soprano Galina Vishnevskaya, and proposed to her after a whirlwind 10-day courtship!) The monaural sound is quite clear, if a bit hard-edged and closely miked; the audience is very quiet, though now and then an occasional soft cough is barely audible in the background. While quite acceptable on its own terms, the audio quality of course does not compete with the velvety sound of EMI’s digital set. A similar disadvantageous comparison can be made about the quality of the cellos used; Rostropovich had not yet acquired his famed Duport Stradivarius, and the unidentified instrument used in Prague, while again good enough in and of itself, cannot compare with the ravishing, burnished tone quality of the Duport. For an instant revelation of the difference, listen to the opening of the Prelude to the Fifth Suite, where the sheer depth and opulence of the Duport in the EMI set is positively dumbfounding. There is also the occasional note in Prague that is not quite dead in tune—clearly due in part to the far less rich overtones of the instrument rather than any shortcoming on the part of Rostropovich. If the sound of the instrument itself is a decisive desideratum here—and for many people it justifiably is—then this Supraphon release will likely not be much more than a curiosity.
However, in addition to instrumental sound there is the issue of differences in interpretation over the intervening span of four decades, and that is where this set comes into its own. The first thing to note is that overall, with the major exceptions of the preludes to the First, Third, and Fourth suites, the Gigue in the First Suite, and the Sarabande in the Fifth Suite, the earlier performances are noticeably swifter. (The total timing of the EMI set is 137:54, compared to 123:52 here). That said, comparisons of some individual movements can be misleading, as in the 1955 performances Rostropovich omits repeats in some movements—e.g., the allemandes in the Third and Sixth suites, the bourées in the Fourth Suite, the Courante in the Sixth Suite—though even in some of those instances the 1955 versions would still be swifter if the repeats were observed. (The cuts in Prague doubtless stem from Rostropovich’s early training; in the booklet notes to the EMI set, the cellist recounts that his teacher, Semyon Kozolupov, strictly forbade pupils to play repeats of the second half of movements written in binary form, allowing repeats only in the first half.) If observance of all the repeats is a major criterion for evaluating a set of the suites, then again this set will not be competitive with the EMI studio recording.
What, then, does this Supraphon set have that commends it as a supplement or alternative to the EMI studio version? In a word (actually two words), that elusive and almost intangible quality I would call “narrative intensity.” Despite my unreserved adoration of Rostropovich as the greatest cellist in recorded history (and is there any lover of cello music who does not so venerate him?), I had always found the EMI set of these suites somehow lacking, and this new release has finally made clear why. As tonally gorgeous and technically immaculate as those sets are, and despite the programmatic titles and descriptions that Rostropovich gives to each suite in that set, it is live in Prague and not in the studio that the cellist finds and articulates fully sustained interpretive profiles. Listen for example to the Sarabande in the Second Suite, dubbed “Sorrow and intensity” by Rostropovich in the 1995 EMI set. While that studio recording is very beautiful, it lacks meditative profundity; whereas in Prague there is a rapt sense of total inward intensity—what the Germans call Innigkeit —that transforms the movement into one bearing comparison with the symphonic Adagio s of Bruckner. Likewise, while still too slow for my taste, the gavottes and Gigue in the Sixth Suite in Prague have some forward momentum, unlike the suffocatingly leaden versions in the EMI set.
Another notable difference is that in Prague Rostropovich is metrically much more exact, whereas on the EMI set he is rather free (or “rhapsodic,” to borrow his description of Pablo Casals). This is particularly true in the in the concluding dance movements (the menuets, bourées, gavottes, and gigues), with the last two movements of the Second Suite again offering particularly striking instances. While I suppose that some might characterize the earlier recordings as comparatively stiff, I do not find them so, and indeed prefer the more strict approach as better articulating the structure of the music. On the other hand, I much prefer the brisker tempos taken in the EMI set to the preludes of the First, Third, and Fourth Suites, the Allemande in the Third Suite, and the Courante in the Sixth Suite, as imparting a necessary greater degree of energy to those movements.
While my overall interpretive preference is therefore with the Prague versions, I cannot simply recommend that set in preference to the EMI one for those desiring a recording of Rostropovich in this repertoire. The two sets are strikingly different, and each has its considerable merits in manifesting the cellist’s extraordinary musical genius. (Indeed, the Prague set caused me to appreciate virtues of the EMI set that had not registered with me before.) For fans of Rostropovich, it goes without saying that this is a mandatory acquisition; but to lovers of cello music in general and the Bach suites in particular, I would say much the same thing, despite its occasional limitations. Had this not come to my attention too late to qualify, it surely would have been a major Want List contender; urgently recommended.
FANFARE: James A. Altena
Oswald: Piano Concerto - Saint-saens: Piano Concerto No. 5 'egyptian'
Joseph Szigeti: Complete Columbia Album Collection
Sony Classical is pleased to announce the release of a 17-CD box set collecting the recordings made between 1940 and 1956 for American Columbia by the renowned Hungarian violinist Joseph Szigeti.
Szigeti had a remarkable career. Born in 1892 in Budapest, where he studied with Jenő Hubay, one of most celebrated virtuosos and teachers of that golden era of violin playing, he was praised by the iconic German violinist Joseph Joachim at his Berlin debut in 1905; lived in London for several years following his acclaimed 1907 debut and played chamber music with, among others, Myra Hess and Ferruccio Busoni; was a frequent visitor after the war to the Soviet Union, where he introduced Prokofiev’s First Violin Concerto; made his triumphant American debut at Carnegie Hall under Stokowski in 1925; toured the world during the 1930s before finally settling in the US in 1940.
It was in that year that Szigeti renewed his friendship with fellow Hungarian émigré Béla Bartók, and in April the two gave a now-legendary recital in Washington which featured Bartók’s First Violin Rhapsody of 1928 – a work dedicated to and premiered by Szigeti in Europe. In May 1940, Columbia recorded their interpretation of this “vehicle for Szigeti’s biting and wholly magnificent fiddling” (MusicWeb International) in New York. That performance appears here for the first time on CD, along with another important work by Bartók, the classic first recording of his Contrasts for clarinet, violin and piano, written for and performed with Szigeti and Benny Goodman.
The rest of the new collection displays many more treasures of Szigeti’s passionate dedication to chamber music: in Bach, Handel, Tartini, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms, Dvořák, Debussy, Ravel, Bloch, Busoni, Prokofiev, Stravinsky and Henry Cowell, collaborating with such artists as Andor Foldes – another Hungarian émigré – as well as with Mieczyslaw Horzowski, Myra Hess, Pablo Casals and Igor Stravinsky.
There are, of course, major orchestral works represented in the new Szigeti edition, including two towering concertos in D major – the Brahms, recorded in 1945 with Eugene Ormandy conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra, and the Beethoven, recorded in 1947 with Bruno Walter and the New York Philharmonic (“an account of impassioned grandeur” – MusicWeb International) – along with Busoni’s early Violin Concerto in D major, recorded in 1954 with Thomas Sherman conducting the Little Orchestra Society. Szigeti’s numerous Bach concerto recordings for Columbia are here as well, conducted by Casals, Fritz Stiedry and George Szell.
As Nathan Milstein, one of his great colleagues, said in a touching tribute to Szigeti, who died in 1973: “He was an incredibly cultured musician. Actually, his talent grew out of his culture. … I always admired him, and he was respected by musicians.” In his late years, Joseph Szigeti finally got the appreciation he deserved from the general public as well. Sony Classical’s new collection his Columbia recordings, many never before released on CD at Sony Classical, can only further enhance that appreciation.
REVIEWS:
Joseph Szigeti (1892-1973) was the violinistic equivalent of a “kunst diva”, just as Gidon Kremer is today. He never had a particularly beautiful tone, while his bowing and intonation grew less dependable with age. Yet Szigeti never put a wrong musical foot forward. His phrasing communicated form, character, architecture, and astute harmonic awareness, with musical considerations always taking precedence over physical expediency.
Sony/BMG’s 17-CD collection of Szigeti’s complete Columbia Masterworks recordings stands out for exemplary remasterings that stem from the best possible source material. His intense yet thoughtful collaborations with Mieczyslaw Horszowski in Beethoven’s Sonatas Nos. 1, 5, 6, and 10 have never sounded so full-bodied and detailed as they do here. The same goes for the 1947 Beethoven Concerto, where the New York Philharmonic turns in firm and insightfully aligned playing under Bruno Walter’s direction. It contrasts to the conductor’s relatively casual and deferential backing in Szigeti’s 1932 recording, which, however, finds Szigeti on far better form.
Rehearing Szigeti’s 1949 Bach Sonata No. 3 in C major for violin solo reminded me just how much more fluent and controlled this performance is in comparison to the violinist’s relatively tenuous Vanguard remake. Likewise, his masterful 1940 account of the D minor concerto based on Bach’s keyboard concerto BWV 1052 is technically, musically, and sonically superior to the bloated 1950 reading under Pablo Casals’ direction. Szigeti’s Casals Festival contributions are admittedly uneven.
His collaborations with Béla Bartók, Igor Stravinsky, and Henry Cowell are both historically important and musically illuminating. Somehow the older Szigeti’s wiry tone imparts welcome character and tension to sonatas by Hindemith, Ravel, and Busoni, as well as the rarely heard Prokofiev solo sonata and Busoni concerto. It must be said, though, that the latter’s final scherzando-like passages are heavy going for the veteran violinist, as are the Busoni sonata’s overextended fugal sequences.
Listeners expecting suaveness and elegance in Brahms’ G major Op. 78 and D minor Op. 108 sonatas with Horszowski may wince at Szigeti’s tremulous and effortful execution. Still, he makes every note count, and the aching fragility that emerges from Op. 78’s outer movements and Op. 108’s deliberately unfolding third movement compels my undivided attention. Yet this Brahms D minor pales next to the power and authority of Szigeti’s great 78 rpm edition with pianist Egon Petri. As for the short encore-type pieces favored in the shellac era, Szigeti plays them dutifully rather than lovingly; he wasn’t a charmer like Kreisler, Elman, Milstein, or Ricci. Or Heifetz, for that matter.
The booklet includes full discographical data, an informative essay by Tully Potter, and Szigeti’s own notes for a 1970 Japanese reissue of his Schubert recordings. Even if just half of this collection represents Szigeti at his best, Sony/BMG’s comprehensive and meticulous production values deserve the highest accolades. In the meantime, a complete edition of Szigeti’s pre-war European 78s is long overdue.
-- ClassicsToday.com (Jed Distler)
The 31 works, from sonatas to chamber works to concertos, span Bach and Beethoven to Debussy, Ravel, Busoni and Henry Cowell. Bartók is pianist in his own Rhapsody No 1 for Violin and Piano. All the Brahms, including the Trio No 2 in C major with Hess and Casals, is to treasure. Szigeti plays Dvořák with grace and melancholy, and gives bite and attack to Stravinsky. The style may be redolent of another era, yet still this playing speaks to us.
– Guardian (UK)
This is a quite wonderful set, one of the highlights being an all-Busoni disc, the Second Sonata with Mieczysπaw Horszowski and the Violin Concerto with the Little Orchestra Society under Thomas Sherman. No one listening could fail to grasp the profound level of Szigeti's musical understanding.
– Gramophone
SET CONTENTS
DISC 1:
Bartók: Violin Rhapsody No. 1, Sz.87 (Remastered)
Bartók: Contrasts for Clarinet, Violin and Piano, Sz.111
Bloch: Three Pictures of Chassidic Life for Violin and Piano (Remastered)
Milhaud (arr. Lévy): Saudades do Brasil, Op. 67: No. 9, Sumare (Remastered)
Falla (arr. Levy): El Sombrero de Tres Picos, Parte I, Danza de la molinera (Remastered)
Mozart: Divertimento No. 15 in B-Flat Major, K. 287, "2. Lodronsche Nachtmusik" (Remastered)
DISC 2:
Mussorgsky-Rachmaninoff: Sorochintsy Fair, Act III: No. 5, Gopak (Remastered)
Dvorák (arr. Kreisler): Slavonic Dance in E Minor, Op. 46, No. 2 (Arr. in G Minor) (Remastered)
Dvorák (arr. Kreisler): Slavonic Dance No. 3 in A-Flat Major, Op. 46, No. 3 (Arr. in E Minor) (Remastered)
Hubay: Scènes de la Csárda No.4, Op. 32, "Hejre Kati", I. Lento ma non troppo. Allegro moderato (Remastered)
Hubay: Scènes de la Csárda No.4, Op. 32, "Hejre Kati", II. Allegro molto (Remastered)
Kodály (arr. Szigeti): Háry János Suite, IZK 26: V. Intermezzo (Remastered)
Brahms: 21 Hungarian Dances for Orchestra, WoO 1: No. 5 in G Minor (Remastered)
Debussy: Violin Sonata No.3 in G Minor, L. 140 (Remastered)
Hubay: The Zephyr, Op. 30, No. 5 (Remastered)
Schubert, Francois: Bagatelle Op. 13, No. 9, "Die Biene" (Remastered)
Stravinsky: Duo Concertant for Violin and Piano
Stravinsky: Pastorale, Song without Words for Violin & Woodwind Quartet
Stravinsky: Russian Maiden's Song
DISC 3:
Beethoven (Cadenza: Joseph Joachim): Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 61
DISC 4:
Brahms: Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 77
Brahms: Violin Sonata No.3 in D Minor, Op.108: II. Adagio
DISC 5:
Beethoven: Violin Sonata No.1 in D Major, Op. 12, No. 1 (Remastered)
Schubert: Violin Sonata in D Major, D.384
Schubert (arr. Friedberg): Piano Sonata No.17 in D Major, D.850: IV. Rondo. Allegretto moderato (Remastered)
Beethoven: Violin Sonata No.7 in C Minor, Op. 30, No. 2 (Remastered)
DISC 6:
Prokofiev: Violin Sonata No.1 in F Minor, Op. 80 (Remastered)
Prokofiev: Violin Sonata No. 2 in D Major, Op. 94bis (Remastered)
DISC 7:
Bach, J.S.: Violin Sonata No. 3 in C Major, BWV 1005
Bach, J.S. (arr. Reitz): Keyboard Concerto No. 1 in D Minor, BWV 1052
DISC 8:
Schubert: Fantaisie for Piano & Violin in C Major, Op.Posth. 159, D. 934
Corelli (arr. H. Leonard): Violin Sonata in D Minor, Op.5 No.12 "La Folia" (Variations Serieuses)
Debussy (arr. Roelens): Suite bergamasque, L. 75: No. 3. Clair de lune
Lalo (arr. Szigeti): Aubade from "Le Roi d'Ys" (Act III)
Tchaikovsky: 6 Pieces, Op. 51: No. 6, Valse sentimentale
Bach, J.S. (arr. Szigeti): Violin Partita No.3 in E Major, BWV 1006: VI. Bourrée (Remastered)
DISC 9:
Bach, J.S.: Concerto for Flute, Violin and Keyboard in A Minor, BWV 1044 (Remastered)
Bach, J.S.: Violin Concerto No. 1 in D Minor, (arr. BWV 1052/1056) (Remastered)
Bach, J.S.: Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D Major, BWV 1050
DISC 10:
Schubert: Rondo in B Minor for Piano and Violin, D.895 (Op.70) "Rondeau brillant"
Beethoven: Violin Sonata No.10 in G Major, Op. 96 (Remastered)
Schubert: Violin Sonata in A Major, Op. 162. D. 574 "Grand Duo" (Remastered)
DISC 11:
Brahms: Piano Quartet No. 3 in C Minor, Op. 60
Brahms: Piano Trio No. 2 in C Major Op. 87
DISC 12:
Cowell: Sonata No. 1 for Violin and Piano (1945) (Remastered)
Shapero: Sonata for Piano Four Hands (1941) (Remastered) (Harold Shapero, piano; Leo Smit, piano)
Cowell: Celestial Vision: How Old Is Song? (Remastered)
DISC 13:
Beethoven: Violin Sonata No.5 in F Major, Op. 24 "Spring"
Beethoven: Violin Sonata No. 6 in A Major, Op. 30, No. 1
DISC 14:
Bach, J.S. (arr. Szigeti): Violin Concerto in G Minor, BWV 1056 (Remastered)
Handel: Violin Sonata in D Major, HWV 371 (Remastered)
Tartini (Cadenzas: Szigeti): Violin Concerto in D Minor, D. 45 (Remastered)
Tartini: Violin Sonata in G Major, B. G19 (Remastered)
DISC 15:
Ravel: Violin Sonata No.2 in G Major, M. 77
Hindemith: Violin Sonata in E Major (1939)
Prokofiev: Sonata for Solo Violin in D Major, Op. 115 (Remastered)
Prokofiev: Five Melodies for Violin and Piano, Op. 35bis (Remastered)
DISC 16:
Busoni: Violin Concerto, Op.35a, BV 243
Busoni: Violin Sonata No.2, Op.36a, BV 244
DISC 17:
Brahms: Violin Sonata No.1 in G Major, Op. 78 "Regen" (Remastered)
Brahms: Violin Sonata No.3 in D Minor, Op.108 (Remastered)
Bach: The French Suites / Alessandra Artifoni
BACH French Suites, BWV 812–817 • Alessandra Artifoni (hpd) • DYNAMIC 757 (2 CDs: 90:44)
It always gives me pause when I encounter an artist new to me and, upon searching the Internet for some biographical background, I find next to nothing. Alessandra Artifoni has no official website and only a number of links pop up—some in Italian only—to sources for this 2012 set of Bach’s French Suites . A one-paragraph bio-blurb in the enclosed booklet doesn’t tell us much either. She was born in Florence in 1967, so at 46 she’s not fresh out of the conservatory or just off the competition circuit. She studied organ and harpsichord in Italy, and then spent 10 years in Switzerland furthering her studies at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. According to the note, Artifoni has made several CDs and radio recordings, but I wasn’t able to find any of them listed beyond this Dynamic release, not even on Amazon’s Italian branch. So, here we have an artist approaching 50, who, for all practical purposes, emerges from nowhere to give us a recording of Bach’s complete French Suites.
How does Artifoni fare? Quite well in fact. She makes her case for these pieces by adopting just tempos, dutifully observing repeats, making clear and precise distinctions between the various embellishment types that appear in the scores, and exhibiting no quirky mannerisms. Moreover, Artifoni’s performances are further enhanced by a richly voiced two-manual harpsichord of exceptional clarity and beauty of tone. It was built in 1997 by Tony Chinnery after a circa 1702 harpsichord by Berlin maker Michael Mietke (?1656/71–1719). Records indicate that Mietke delivered a harpsichord to the court at Köthen in 1719 on the recommendation of Bach, and that it was likely the instrument Bach played in a performance of the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto.
Chinnery lives and works in a villa just north of Florence, and this particular harpsichord from his workshop sparkles with diamond-like glints without any hint of glare or harshness across and between its two evenly matched keyboards. It’s absolutely ideal for these suites, enabling Artifoni to clearly resolve Bach’s linear writing.
Many famous players, of course, have put their individual stamps on these works, performing them on piano as well as on harpsichord. But among just harpsichord versions, the catalog beckons, in no particular order, with entries by Helmut Walcha, Huguette Dreyfus, Ton Koopman, Christophe Rousset, Kenneth Gilbert, Trevor Pinnock, Christopher Hogwood, Gustav Leonhardt, Bob van Asperen, Davitt Moroney, Lars Ulrik Mortensen, and Masaaki Suzuki. I don’t have all of them and haven’t even heard some of them, but of those I do have and/or have heard, I’m comfortable in saying that Alessandra Artifoni can stand with the best of them.
Admittedly, she is not as varied or imaginative in her approach as are some—for example, she doesn’t make much use of different stops to provide contrast in repeated sections, as does Dreyfus, or insert creative embellishments of her own making along the way, as does Rousset—but she is due credit for playing the notes as Bach wrote them, or at least how we think he wrote them, which brings me to one last, if essentially unimportant point about Artifoni’s or Dynamic’s sequencing of the suites on these two discs.
Except for a few movements of these pieces which found their way into Anna Magdalena’s Clavierbüchlein in Bach’s own hand, no autograph scores of the French Suites exist. Not even the title is Bach’s; it first appears in a 1762 treatise by German musicologist Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg (1718–1795). Because of this, later copies and editions took it upon themselves to publish the suites in no particular agreed upon order.
As a result, many players present the suites in numerical order, one through six, which is actually an artifact of their BWV numbers. Since the BWV catalog assigned 812 to the Suite in
D Minor, it became No. 1; 813, assigned to the Suite in C Minor, became No. 2, and so on. But not all players adopt this schema, some preferring to present the suites in some alternate order that makes sense to them or to the record producer laying them out. Just for grins, here’s Artifoni’s sequence compared to Rousset’s.
| D Minor | C Minor | B Minor | E?-Major | G Major | E Major | |
| 812 | 813 | 814 | 815 | 816 | 817 | |
| Artifoni (order) | 5 | 2 | 4 | 1 | 3 | 6 |
| Rousset (order) | 5 | 2 | 6 | 1 | 4 | 3 |
Whether there’s any significance to the fact that Artifoni and Rousset both begin their sets with the E?-Major Suite (BWV 815) followed by the C-Minor Suite (BWV 813), or whether it’s purely coincidental I don’t know, but if there’s a desire to devise some plan based on keys, Bach didn’t make it easy. There’s no obvious formula I can see that would result in a complementary or symmetrical structure. Rousset begins in E?-Major and ends in E Major, two keys that may be adjacent to each other on the keyboard but are a universe apart in terms of tonal relationships. Artifoni also begins in E?-Major but ends in B Minor, a tonal relationship of an augmented fifth (or diminished sixth) that would have taken the curls right out of Bach’s wig. So, one must conclude that since no order makes sense, any order will do.
The more I listen to Aritifoni’s French Suites the more I like them. They won’t displace other favorites, chief among which are Rousset and, with apologies to any elitists who may happen upon this review—I’m sure there are none among Fanfare ’s readers—Keith Jarrett, whose ventures into Bach, I think, are generally underappreciated. Anyway, Artifoni’s new release is highly recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Bruch: Violin Concerto No. 1; Mozart: Violin Concertos Nos. 4 & 5 / Sargent, Heifetz
-- Arthur Lintgen, Fanfare [7/2006]
"Except for the human voice itself, probably no instrument of music so intimately reflects the individuality of the musician as the violin. So this record gives us, in addition to the fabled Heifetz technical wizardry, the Heifetz personality. That personality is encountered here in its maturity—and in the A major Concerto perhaps something slightly beyond that. Throughout the D major, however, the justly famous powers of intonation are exhibited at their nearly supernatural best."
-- Gramophone [9/1972] Reviewing Mozart Concertos
Bach: 6 Cello Suites / Carmine Miranda
BACH Six Cello Suites • Carmine Miranda (vc) • CENTAUR 3263/4 (2 CDs: 130:10)
Since reviewing Truls Mørk’s version of Bach’s unaccompanied cello suites in 29:5, no fewer than six more accounts have crossed my desk. In chronological order, they were Jean-Guihen Queyras (31:4), Sara Sant’Ambrogio (33:3), Luigi Piovano (34:5), Hekun Wu (34:6), Tanya Tomkins (35:1), and Richard Tuncliffe (36:1). Some of the cellists used conventional cellos, others period instruments. All but two, however, had one thing in common: They were uniformly awful, though each in its own way, ranging from barely tolerable to downright execrable. The one I kept coming back to as my preferred and strongly recommended set throughout those reviews was the first on this list, the one by Jean-Guihen Queyras, with Hekun Wu being a close runner-up. Both, by the way, performed the suites on cellos in modern configuration.
Bach’s six cello suites are like a Siren’s call to cellists of all persuasions, luring many of them to ruin. And the thing is there’s no reason for it. Was it a singular achievement for Bach to write such technically challenging works for an instrument that was relatively new at the time, and a melody instrument to boot, one that takes even more kindly to intensive double-stopping than the violin? Yes. But are the cello suites comparable on levels of musical scope and intellectual depth to the unaccompanied violin sonatas and partitas? Not even close. There are no massive fugues in the cello suites and nothing that approaches the dimensions of the D-Minor Violin Partita’s Chaconne. The cello suites are exactly what their title tells us they are—six sets of relatively short, stylized baroque dances. Yet for cellists—and for some listeners, I think—they’ve taken on an import that may be beyond their actual significance in Bach’s output, virtually becoming every cellist’s initiation rite.
So, how does the young Venezuelan cellist, Carmine Miranda (b. 1988), fare in his initiation into cellodom’s manhood? Well, first a few words about this young artist, who is likely unknown to readers, as this is his recording debut; he was 22 when he recorded the Bach suites for Centaur in 2011–12. Miranda’s early training took place in his native country, where he studied at the Carabobo State Music Conservatory, then in the Latin-American Academy of Violoncello, and finally at the Simon Bolivar Conservatory of Music (the institution that spawned the famous “El Sistema”). Miranda then traveled to the States to study with Ross Harbaugh at the University of Miami, followed by further coaching under Yehuda Hanani at the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music where Miranda obtained his bachelor’s and master’s degrees and is a candidate for a doctorate.
In the U.S., he has performed at Carnegie Hall, Bowdoin Music Festival, the Bach Annalia Festival in Cincinnati, the Young People’s Festival in Chatham, N.Y., and is on the artist’s roster for the Close Encounters with Music Series in Great Barrington, N.Y., both under the direction of Yehuda Hanani and others.
Among Miranda’s awards are first prize at the 2005 Alhambra Music Competition, the National Prize for best soloist from the FMEA (Florida Music Educators Association), and the 2008–09 University of Cincinnati Cello Competition. He has collaborated with recognized international artists such as Yehuda Hanani, Awadagin Pratt, Rodolfo Saglimbeni and performed as a soloist with several chamber ensembles and orchestras, recently including the Caracas Municipal Symphony Orchestra. He is also the founder and member of the Troika Piano Trio comprised of violinist Joshua Ulrich and pianist Assaf Sommer.
Miranda, who authored his own album note, makes no mention of the instrument(s) he uses for these performances, how he handles the scordatura tuning of the Fifth Suite—does he retune his cello according to the original manuscript or use the modern standard-tuning edition?—or what he does to accommodate the Sixth Suite, believed to have been originally written for a five-string violoncello piccolo. His note speaks only of his personal impressions of, and responses to, the emotional and spiritual character and quality of each of the pieces. At one point, in fact, I was quite taken aback to read, “Interpretation of the suites has nothing to do with what is correct, accurate, and historical, but it rather has to do with going deep within the soul of the writing…” That raised a red flag for me, not to mention an eyebrow. I couldn’t help but think to myself that only the immodesty of youth could be so callow and cavalier with respect to the years of serious musicological research that have attempted to ascertain what is “correct, accurate, and historical,” and to the many veteran cellists who have spent more years studying these works than Miranda has been alive. But the proof, as they say, is in the hearing. And so I decided not to allow my annoyance with Miranda’s words to influence my judgment of his playing.
Instantly, from the very first bar of the G-Major Suite, the cellist that came to mind was Pablo Casals, a comparison that elicits no higher compliment. In my above-mentioned review of Tanya Tomkins’s Bach suites, I noted how slow and super-romanticized her readings were; she takes 3:16 for the opening Prelude, a full half-minute longer than Jacqueline du Pré, who, at 2:35, is hardly fast. So, I went back to Casals’s 1950s recording and found that he dispatched the Prelude in two minutes flat and without any rhythmic distensions or distortions. What about Carmine Miranda? 2:09. I don’t know if Miranda studied Casals’s recordings, but if he didn’t, it’s truly uncanny how closely he channels both the letter and the spirit of the great cellist’s example.
It’s really difficult to express in words the beauty of Miranda’s performances. His cello is a modern instrument, or at least one updated with modern fittings and tuned to modern pitch, but the tone it emits is lighter in weight than that which we often hear in versions played on modern cellos. Of course, much of that can be attributed to Miranda’s bowing. He doesn’t dig into the strings to produce guttural sounds. The tone is clean and clear and intonation perfect. But one expects more than technical proficiency, dexterity, and finesse; and more—much more than that—is what one gets from Miranda’s readings.
Alluded to above is the fact that these are suites of dances, and time and again, in extolling the virtues of Jean-Guihen Queyras’s performances, I’ve remarked on the way in which he manages to capture the essence of each dance step. Miranda, it seems to me, goes one step further (no pun intended). He hears, and allows us to hear, the historical roots of each dance and whence it comes, which is pretty funny when you try to square that with his comment that interpretation of the suites has nothing to do with the historical. Yet listen to Miranda’s courantes, and you will hear not just rapid tempos, but the very definition of the Renaissance dance as described by Thoinot Arbeau, the 16th-century French theorist who tells us that the courante was danced with fast running and jumping steps. If Miranda didn’t learn this from reading music history, he knows it intuitively, for it’s not just his accelerated tempos but the effect of rhythmic arrest you would observe in a dance that involved running forward several steps, then making a sudden jump, hop, or jerk to stop short the forward motion. In Miranda’s hands, the suites don’t just sound dance-like , as in stylized baroque refinements, they sound like actual Renaissance dances.
Likewise, Miranda’s sarabandes are played with the stately gravitas that would have been à la mode for a processional court dance in 17th-century France. Interestingly, the sarabande had its origins as a fairly fast dance a century earlier and quite likely in Mexico or Central America. When Spanish colonists brought the dance back to Spain with them, it was banned in 1583 for being obscene. It wasn’t until the sarabande made its way to Italy and then France that it became the slow, triple-meter dance that was widely adopted into the baroque suite.
I’ve never heard Bach’s cello suites played in quite this way, and while I wouldn’t want to be without the versions by Queyras, Hekun Wu, Casals, and János Starker, Carmine Miranda’s will not only join them, it will stand out as perhaps the most original and imaginative interpretations of the suites I’ve heard.
Centaur’s recording, too, is outstanding, capturing Miranda’s cello fairly close up but with sufficient air around it to allow for a natural sounding bloom, yet without any annoying echo effect. An album note states that the recording was made without any editing. This is a definite buy recommendation for both connoisseurs of Bach’s cello suites and those who appreciate cello playing at its best. I’d have to say that Carmine Miranda has passed his initiation with flying colors. Welcome to the ranks of the world class players.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Marcello: Psalms And Sonatas / Lydia Cevidalli, Ensemble Salomone Rossi
Benedetto Marcello was born in Venice in 1686 and died in Brescia in 1739. His vast musical output remains largely unexplored, but his most famous work is the Estro poetico-armonico – a collection of fifty psalms, including eleven ancient Jewish songs – called Intonazioni – and two sacred hymns from Greek classicism. Marcello acknowledged the importance of Jewish and classical music heritage, and by blending these different styles, he sought to underline their universal value. This album features Psalms Nos. 21 and 42, as well as the Sonata for Violin and Basso Continuo in E minor Op. 1, No. 1, and the first movements of Sonatas No. 5 in F major and No. 4 in G minor for solo harpsichord.
Lorin Hollander: Complete RCA Album Collection
The American pianist Lorin Hollander was only 14 years old in 1958 when he recorded his first album for RCA, a personal selection of “22 Favorites” entitled Discovering the Piano. Its success led to a sequel the following year. Over the next eight years he produced an acclaimed series of releases for the Red Label, establishing an international career which would eventually encompass more than 2,500 appearances as a pianist, conductor and passionate advocate for arts education. Hollander has performed with many of the world’s leading orchestras and collaborated with conductors such as Bernstein, Szell, Ormandy, Leinsdorf, Previn, Haitink, Ozawa and Mehta. Sony Classical is now pleased to present a new 8-disc box set offering Lorin Hollander’s complete RCA discography for the first time on CD.
A child prodigy, he was born in New York City into a musical family – his father was associate concertmaster of the NBC Symphony Orchestra under Toscanini. Lorin began playing the piano at the age of three and within two years had memorized the complete first book of the Well-Tempered Clavier. At eleven, he made his Carnegie Hall début playing Mozart’s C major Concerto K 467. His list of distinguished teachers and mentors includes Eduard Steuermann, Olga Stroumillo, Leon Fleisher, Max Rudolf and Rudolf Serkin.
Sony’s Lorin Hollander box begins with those two early albums of “favorites” by Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, Chopin, Mendelssohn, Liszt, Brahms, Grieg, Rimsky-Korsakov, Falla, Granados, Rachmaninoff and Paderewski. In 1963, with Erich Leinsdorf and the Boston Symphony, he premièred and recorded the Fantasy and Variations for Piano and Orchestra by Norman Dello Joio. RCA Victor’s release, a coupling with the Ravel G major Concerto, became Hollander’s international record début and found critical acclaim on both sides of the Atlantic. High Fidelity in the US wrote that “the eighteen-year-old pianist’s amazing digital skill and bravura are just what are demanded for the Fantasy and Variations”, while Gramophone in the UK, was grateful for “our first taste on records of the music of Norman Dello Joio, the 50-year-old New York composer who was at one time a pupil of Hindemith. The piano part is immensely athletic: Hollander scuttles up and down the keyboard with great efficiency, and the orchestra is equally on its toes.”
Hollander recorded further virtuoso concertos in 1964 and 1965. The Prokofiev Fifth, also with Leinsdorf and the BSO, was hailed as “a super-brilliant performance” by High Fidelity. Of the Khachaturian Piano Concerto coupled with Bloch’s Scherzo fantasque – made in London with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra under André Previn – High Fidelity wrote enthusiastically: “The Scherzo fantasque has many of the jagged dissonances and virile qualities of Bloch’s writing in the early Twenties. It is fiercely virtuosic and thus ideally suited to the percussive, tigerish Mr. Hollander. In the Khachaturian … Hollander’s work is also first-rate technically … I find the performance excellent.”
Two solo albums from 1965 and 1966 rounded out Hollander’s RCA discography, Mussorsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, coupled with works by Prokofiev and Rachmaninoff, and a coupling of Beethoven’s “Tempest” Sonata, the Schumann Arabeske, a Brahms Intermezzo and Myra Hess’s beloved Bach transcription “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”. The set concludes with a curiosity, recorded for Columbia’s “Modern American Music Series” in 1973: the concert work for soprano and chamber ensemble fashioned by American composer Leon Kirchner from his opera Lily. Kirchner plays the piano part and conducts an ensemble featuring Lorin Hollander on celesta, clarinettist Richard Stoltzman, violinist James Buswell and violist Nobuko Imai. The soprano soloist is Diana Hoagland.
SET CONTENTS
DISC 1:
• Rimsky-Korsakoff (arr. Rachmaninoff): Flight of the Bumblebee
• Granados: Spanish Dance in E Minor, Op. 5, No. 5 "Playera - Andaluzia"
• Schubert: Momento Musical In F Minor, Op. 94, No. 3
• Mendelssohn: Venetian Boat Song, No. 6
• Chopin: Etude in C Minor, Op. 10, No. 12 "Revolutionary"
• Paderewski: Menuet célèbre in G Major
• Falla: Ritual Fire Dance
• Liszt: Liebestraum No. 3
• Chopin: Für Elise (Albumblatt)
• Chopin: Prelude in C Minor, Op. 28/20
• Brahms: Waltz in A-Flat Major, Op. 39/15
• Debussy: Claire de lune
• Chopin: Waltz in C Sharp Minor, Op. 64/2
• Beethoven: Minuet No. 2 in G Major
• Mozart: Piano Sonata No. 16 in C Major, K. 545: I. Allegro "Sonata Facile"
• Mozart (arr. Hollander): Minuet (From "Don Giovanni")
• Bach: Two-Part Invention No. 13 in A Minor, BWV 784
• Schumann: Album für die Jugend, Op. 68: X. Fröhlicher Landmann, von der Arbeit zurückkehrend.
• Schumann: Album für die Jugend, Op. 68: II. Soldatenmarsch. Munter und straff
• Schumann: Träumerei
• Grieg: Anitra's Dance
• Chopin: Etude in G-Flat, Op. 25, No. 9 "Butterfly"
DISC 2:
• Chopin: Polonaise in A-Flat Major, Op. 53
• Chopin: Scherzo No. 2 in B-Flat Minor, Op. 31
• Liszt: Hungarian Rhapsody No.6 in D-Flat Major, S.244/6
• Liszt: Mephisto Waltz No. 3, S.216
• Brahms: 3 Intermezzi, Op. 117/2
• Brahms: Rhapsody in G Minor, Op. 79/2
• Rachmaninoff: Prelude in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 3/2
DISC 3:
• Dello Joio: Fantasy and Variations for Piano and Orchestra
• Ravel: Piano Concerto in G Major
Lorin Hollander, piano / Boston Symphony Orchestra / Erich Leinsdorf, conductor
DISC 4:
• Prokofiev: Violin Concerto No. 1 in D Major, Op. 19 [Erick Friedman, violin]
• Prokofiev: Piano Concerto No. 5 in G Major, Op. 55
Lorin Hollander, piano / Boston Symphony Orchestra / Erich Leinsdorf, conductor
DISC 5:
• Khachaturian: Piano Concerto in D-Flat Major, Op. 38
• Bloch: Scherzo fantasque, B. 78
Lorin Hollander, piano / Royal Philharmonic Orchestra / Andre Previn, conductor
DISC 6:
• Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition
• Rachmaninoff: Prelude In C-Sharp Minor, Op. 3/2
• Prokofiev: Toccata, Op. 11
DISC 7:
• Beethoven: Sonata No. 17 in D Minor, Op. 31/2 "The Tempest
• Bach, J. S. (arr. Hess): Choral: "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring"
• Brahms: Intermezzo in B-Flat Minor, Op. 117/2
• Schumann: Arabeske, Op. 18
DISC 8:
• Kirchner: Lily (1973)
Diana Hoagland, soprano / Columbia Chamber Soloists / Leon Kirchner, pianist/conductor
• Kirchner: String Quartet No. 2 (1958)
Lenox String Quartet
Plucked Bach: Cello Suites nos. 1 & 2 on Plucked Strings / Sariel
Alon Sariel makes his PENTATONE debut with Plucked Bach, a program exploring Bach’s cello suites performed on different mandolins, lutes, baroque guitar and oud, concluding with Sariel’s own Bach-inspired Mandolin Partita. Bach’s suites are often considered to be “the cellist’s Bible”, but the transferability of his music between instruments – a practice to which the composer himself also contributed frequently – seems to justify this fresh approach. Sariel aims to realize the timeless and universal character of Bach’s music in a multifarious sound world of plucked instruments, through a program that employs an interplay of light and dark, embodied by the first and second suites respectively.
Another objective has been to bring out the youthful élan of this music, composed years before Bach’s Passions. Altogether, this album presents Bach’s music in a new, enticing light. Alon Sariel is one of the most versatile performers of his generation, whose guiding principle is a changing perspective; giving new life to existing material, as well as creating completely new works.
REVIEWS:
It’s a pleasure to hear Israeli lutenist Alon Sariel once again...Sariel’s artistic insight is just as keen as I remembered it. Here, he plays several mandolins and lutes, baroque guitar, and oud, all of which are displayed on the album cover and all are performed with his usual class and style.
The program of Sariel’s arrangements of various Bach cello suites begins with the Prelude from Suite No. 5 in C Minor, arranged for mandolin, an instrument whose classical voice is usually heard, if at all, in song accompaniments. Here, Sariel makes a fine impression for it as a plaintive, searching voice. Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, heard in Sariel’s arrangement for lute, establishes the instrument’s authentic voice right off in an urgently strummed 2-part setting. Gavottes I and II from Suite No. 6 in D Major make a nice encore, clarified in thought and feeling. Suite No. 2 in D Minor, if anything, makes an even finer impression as a lute arrangement, beginning with a slow, contemplative Prelude with a haunting echo. As an encore, the Sarabande from this suite is performed once again, this time in Sariel’s arrangement for the Oud, an instrument of North African or Arabic origin without frets and with a short neck and, most importantly, a distinctively low, passionate voice that makes for a fine arrangement in this instance.
Sariel concludes the program with his own Mandolin Partita for what would appear to be a round-backed Neapolitan model. It is in six movements: a mystery-laden Prelude, intriguing Allemande, florid Courante with cascading notes, gently poignant Sarabande, Minuets I & 2 characterized by lively syncopations, and a Gigue handsomely decorated with grace notes. All of which reveal his knowing grasp of the Baroque style.
-- Audio Video Club of Atlanta
