Search results: Search results
14 results
Products
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Purcell: Royal Welcome Songs For King Charles III, Vol. 3 / Christophers, The Sixteen
Coro · Sep 2020CD$20.99 -
Purcell: Royal Welcome Songs for King Charles II / Christophers, The Sixteen
Coro · May 2018CD$20.99 -
-
-
Purcell: Royal Welcome Songs for King Charles II, Vol. 2 / Christophers, The Sixteen Choir
Coro · Sep 2019CD$20.99 -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Weinberg: Symphony No 6, Rhapsody On Moldavian Themes / Lande, St Petersburg Symphony Orchestra
Naxos · Apr 2012CD$19.99 -
Rachmaninov: Symphonic Dances / Petrenko, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic
Avie Records · Mar 2010CD$19.99
Smyth: The Prison / Burton, Brailey, Blachly, Experiential Orchestra
The 2020 GRAMMY Award winner for Best Classical Solo Vocal Performance, honoring Sarah Brailey and Dashon Burton!
August 18th marks the 100th anniversary of the 19th Constitutional Amendment, granting women in the US the right to vote. A fitting time then for our release of the World Premier Recording of Ethel Smyth’s late masterpiece The Prison. Smyth left home at nineteen to study composition in Leipzig. In the company of Clara Schumann and her teacher Heinrich von Herzogenberg, she met and won the admiration of composers such as Tchaikovsky, Brahms, Dvorák, and Grieg. Smyth was the first woman to have an opera performed at the Met, in 1903. (The second was Kaija Saariaho, whose L'Amour de loin appeared there in 2016!) Smyth later became central to the Suffragette movement in England, writing the March of the Women. Her gender politics and sexuality were cause for attacks by critics, and she famously went to prison herself for throwing a stone through an MP’s window. Composed in 1930 and premiered in 1931 in Edinburgh’s Usher Hall, The Prison is a Symphony in two parts, ‘Close on Freedom’ and ‘The Deliverance’, set for soprano and bass-baritone soloists, chorus, and full orchestra. The text is taken from a philosophical work by Henry Bennet Brewster and concerns the writings of a prisoner in solitary confinement, his reflections on life and his preparations for death.
REVIEWS:
Ethyl Smyh's late work, The Prison (1929-30), is uncategorizable. The 64-minute “vocal symphony” for bass-baritone (The Prisoner) and soprano (his Soul), with chorus (philosophical commentary) is in two parts: Close To Freedom and The Deliverance. The heavy-ish text, by Smyth’s dear friend (and perhaps lover, though her relationships tended otherwise to be lesbian) Henry Bennet Brewster centers on the gloomy ruminations of a prisoner considering the end of his life, and his soul, which is guiding him toward peace. In Part 1, He, for instance speaks of his anxiety and inability to sleep, and wonders about immortality and if he will be emancipated; in Part 2, the Soul tells him the end of his struggle is near and he learns to “disband his ego”. The chorus has a further calming effect: immortality is everywhere, human passions remain. He finally finds peace. As you can see, a regular Offenbachian satire–not.
From the very opening moments – “I awoke in the middle of the night” – the mood is weighty with disquiet. The bass-baritone voice of Dashon Burton has both substance and gentleness, his attention to the text that of a Lieder singer. Violin and harp circle his words. Sarah Brailey’s Soul, from the start, sings with subtlety and a type of fleeting loveliness. She opens the second part with a solo on the words “the struggle is over”, intoning much of her words on one note while first a trio of winds, then a solo violin, then the full body of strings and chorus–all pianissimo–join her above and below. Chant? Hymn? Both, really. Smyth layers the orchestra; a brass choir during a passage about immortality makes a grand effect. Later, a painfully beautiful pastoral section precedes the Prisoner’s feeling of metaphysical freedom.
While much of it is gripping, its slow pacing and didacticism can dehumanize the story that the Prisoner and Soul are stuck in. The Prisoner’s “prison”, both metaphorical and real, is presented with such humanity and openness by Burton that his eventual spiritual freedom makes a glorious sound, despite–rather than due to–the orchestrally and chorally weighted underpinnings. Some Elgar shows up, and is not very welcome.
The performance, I suspect, could not be bettered. The New York City-based Experiential Orchestra and Chorus both perform with luscious tone and poise. James Blachly’s leadership brings the work’s lyricism to the forefront; it would be easy to over-emphasize passages but he works best within the dramatic arc of the narrative. Much of The Prison is gorgeous and unexpected – who does Smyth sound like? And while some moments seem inert, they are few and far between.
– ClassicsToday.com (10/10; Robert Levine)
Smyth’s haunting music, given here in conductor James Blachly’s new edition, is beautifully constructed and highly evocative (with quotes or allusions to earlier Smyth scores). Her orchestration is limpid and masterly, rendered lovingly here by Blachly with the Experiential Orchestra. The choral contribution is relatively minor, the focus rightly on the two soloists, but again superbly performed. The only miscalculation is Smyth’s use of ‘The Last Post’ in the concluding pages, adding a martial resonance that may jar to modern ears; to Smyth, a major-general’s daughter, it may just have been an echo of (her) youth which she wanted at this point. Magnificent sound from Chandos, too. Very strongly recommended.
– Gramophone
Composer's Collection - Schwantner / Corporon, North Texas
The earliest work is . . . and the mountains rising nowhere. By the time this review appears, the piece will be 30 years old. It represented an important turning point in Schwantner’s creative development as he emerged from the academic world of serial composition into his own more poetic and evocative musical language. Its premiere by the Eastman Wind Ensemble at a conference of the College Band Directors National Association in 1977 reportedly made a stunning impact on the many band conductors in attendance, and gave birth to a new approach in composing for winds and percussion, one that left the neo-Classicism of much of the mid-20th-century band repertoire far behind. James Popejoy’s program notes for this GIA release state, “This work in particular has had a profound effect on the wind ensemble movement since its premiere and is generally considered as one of the most important and pivotal compositions for winds and percussion of the last thirty years.” . . . and the mountains rising nowhere is scored for amplified piano, 50 percussion instruments, orchestral winds and brass, and tuned glass crystals. The players are expected to sing and whistle as well. So strikingly original is Schwantner’s treatment of the ensemble that one is not immediately aware of the absence of strings, or that one is listening to a band. The performance here is extraordinary and breathtaking. The amplified piano plays a strong role in the work, as it does in each of the four compositions for wind ensemble. The brilliant Polish-born pianist Adam Wodnicki is credited as soloist in mountains. It is not clear from the notes whether he fills this role in the other pieces as well.
. . . and the mountains rising nowhere is so accessible that its impact is immediate, so it’s no surprise that it spawned so many similar works in its wake. Of course, some of these similar works came from the pen of Schwantner himself. From a Dark Millennium (1980), written for the Mid-America Conference Band Directors Association, is one such, and it almost outdoes its predecessor with regard to fantastic sonic imagery. This work also exists in a reduced scoring for chamber ensemble, with the title Sanctuary.
Schwantner’s next wind ensemble effort was In evening’s stillness . . .. Composed in 1996 on commission from the Illinois College Band Directors Association, it is very much like the two preceding pieces in overall concept, although, to its credit, it remains fresh and effective. In fact, Schwantner envisions that the three pieces could be performed as a single work in three sections.
The most recent piece presented here is Recoil, composed in 2004 for the University of Connecticut Wind Ensemble. It calls for a somewhat larger ensemble than the previous works, and is also a more active, exciting piece, with lots of rhythmic energy. All four of these works are immediate in their impact and vivid in their imagery, calling to mind visions ranging from ancient rituals of mysterious sorcerers to futuristic landscapes of other worlds.
The remaining work is the transcription for band of Schwantner’s 1994 Percussion Concerto, which he had dedicated to the memory of Stephen Albert, the gifted composer who died in a car accident in 1992 at the age of 51. The work was commissioned by the New York Philharmonic on behalf of its principal percussionist Christopher Lamb, who gave the first performance, under the direction of Leonard Slatkin. The Concerto was recorded in 1998 by the celebrated percussionist Evelyn Glennie, with Slatkin leading the National Symphony Orchestra (reviewed in Fanfare 21:6) in a stupendous performance. It has since been performed numerous times throughout the world. In 1997, Andrew Boysen, Jr. transcribed the work for wind symphony, under Schwantner’s supervision, making it available for performance by the many highly proficient college wind ensembles. Like Recoil, just described, and A Sudden Rainbow (on the Hyperion disc), the Percussion Concerto displays the sense of direction and forward momentum often missing from Schwantner’s music, with the result that these three are among his most effective and fully satisfying compositions. The Concerto’s tremendously exciting first movement seems to show the influence of Steve Reich in its use of irregularly accented ostinato patterns. The elegiac second movement is the emotional core of the work—intensely evocative, conjuring an atmosphere of dark mystery, against which a soft, heartbeat-like motif grows gradually to a tremendous climax. The third movement returns to the rapid, rhythmically aggressive manner of the first movement, with a lengthy, partly improvised, cadenza. The transcription for band is highly effective on its own terms, giving no indication of anything “missing,” although I must admit to a preference for the orchestral version, when the two are placed in direct comparison. But the key factor here may not be the transcription, but, rather, the performance: although soloist Christopher Deane, a member of the percussion faculty of the University of North Texas, does an excellent job on the whole, he takes a curiously slow tempo in the finale, making that movement alone four minutes longer than in the Glennie performance, with the result that the finale seems a bit of a letdown. However, that is really the only criticism I have about any of the performances on this two-CD set. Throughout the set, the North Texas Wind Symphony plays brilliantly, and the sound quality of the recording is breathtaking.
As I stated in my review of the Hyperion release, enthusiasts of Schwantner’s music will definitely enjoy this recording, which may be ordered from www.archivmusic.com. However, some prospective purchasers may balk at being asked to pay $24 for a set that lasts only 83 minutes.
FANFARE: Walter Simmons
Purcell: Royal Welcome Songs for King James II / The Sixteen
-----
REVIEW:
Harry Christophers and the Sixteen bring to life the composer's Welcome Songs, composed, like the birthday odes, for special, mainly royal, occasions. Christophers coaxes virtuosic performances from eight members of the Sixteen, with a fine band of period instrumentalists reveling in the glories of Purcell’s unique harmonic palette. Recommended.
– Guardian (UK)
Kõrvits: The Sound of Wings / Joost, Tallinn Chamber Orchestra
Estonian composer Tõnu Kõrvits (b. 1969) belongs to his country’s most prominent composers. His works are rich with delicate atmosphere possessing a particularly Northern feel combined with a romantic and Impressionistic touch. This new album by the award-winning Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, Tallinn Chamber Orchestra and conductor Risto Joost is the final volume in a trilogy of works for choir and orchestra. Moorland Elegies (ODE 1306-2), You Are Light and Morning (ODE 1363-2) and The Sound of Wings form a kind of a trilogy, albeit this was never a purpose in itself. All three works were performed first by the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir and Tallinn Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Risto Joost. The first two cycles are linked to the elements of earth and water. In this final part of the trilogy everything is carried by the element of air, and those existential themes which Tõnu Kõrvits has dealt with for decades in his works – nature, life, death, suffering, love – find a liberating and soaring solution. The composer has said that it is “the brightest work in the trilogy (...), which emanates the most light. It is a song of flying, of dreaming, of courage and unconditional love.”
One of the sources of inspiration for The Sound of Wings was Amelia Mary Earhart’s attempt to be the first woman in aviation history to fly around the globe together with navigator Fred Noonan, which was cut short whilst crossing the Pacific Ocean. On her specially adapted red Lockheed Model 10-E Electra, Earhart was supposed to make a last land stop on Howland Island, but due to a fault in the navigation system she was unable to find it. Neither Earhart or the remains of her plane have ever been found. Earhart’s last radio transmission – inspiring due to the steadiness and matter-of-factness of the pilot’s voice – gave the titles to the two instrumental parts of the work. The element of air, the wind, the emptiness, flight and liberation in the music are embodied by the solo viola. The flageolet passages of the solo viola, the trills, the motifs which sway up and down pass through the entire piece, introducing as well as completing it. Wind images painted through sound can also be found in the orchestra and choir parts. Kõrvits’ instrumentation is sensitive and imaginative, just like his extraordinary talent of using the choir in the most varied but always singing way.
REVIEW:
Tonu Korvits (b 1969) is possibly the most prominent Estonian composer of his generation, known particularly for his choral music. His music is lyrical and firmly tonal, though smooth, bluesy chromatic tones give it an elusive, hypnotic quality. He writes with genuine beauty, finding a kind of magic in tonality that is all too rare these days.
The Sound of Wings (2022) concerns Amelia Earhart. The text doesn’t so much follow a narrative but rather a succession of abstract meditations on emotions, aspirations, and sensations she might have felt while in the air. A solo viola evokes the ephemeral but liberating qualities of air with harmonics; it reaches its apex in a full-blooded solo in the last movement. The choral writing is consistently tender and lyrical, with attentive, natural text-setting. It is slow and often reserved, but always interesting and often quite moving. We also get the short but achingly beautiful ‘Sunday Wish’ (2020/22).
Wonderful performances from the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir and Tallinn Chamber Orchestra, under the direction of Risto Joost. The choir is particularly exceptional, singing with a consistently gorgeous tone. Notes and text in Estonian and English.
-- American Record Guide
Purcell: Royal Welcome Songs For King Charles III, Vol. 3 / Christophers, The Sixteen
Purcell’s genius abounds in this, the fourth volume in The Sixteen’s series devoted to the composer. Henry Purcell grew from young childhood to established professional adulthood in the service of Charles II. He identified strongly with the court, but he was well aware of Charles’s unreliability as a patron. Wisely, Purcell made an early decision to diversify, flaunting his court connections while building up the largest possible client base beyond the court. This programme shows that strategy in action and celebrates a diversity of writing for both professional Court musicians as well as amateur enthusiasts. “Christophers creates a vivid sense of celebration and occasion, conjuring blustering trumpet fanfares and drum-rolls from his ensemble.” (Gramophone)
Purcell: Royal Welcome Songs for King Charles II / Christophers, The Sixteen
Harry Christophers and The Sixteen continue their exploration of Purcell’s stunning music written for royal occasions on the second album in their new series. Charles II’s formal Restoration in 1660 marked both an end and a beginning: the end of England’s republican experiment and the beginning of a long process of monarchical reconstruction; and with a politically accident-prone king on the throne, Charles’s public relations machine could never rest. Purcell joined its small team of composer operatives just as the wave of Stuart propaganda swelled massively, and he surfed the wave with breathtaking panache, from his first court ode – the simple but rousing Welcome, Vicegerent of the mighty King – to the ambitious Fly, bold rebellion involving verse settings in up to seven parts and a six-part chorus.
Purcell: Royal Welcome Songs for King Charles II, Vol. 2 / Christophers, The Sixteen Choir
On this release, Harry Christophers and The Sixteen continue their exploration of Purcell’s stunning music written for royal occasions on the third album in their acclaimed series. King Charles II liked to project a strong, stable, divinely legitimated image. Whilst that image had no basis in reality, the scale of his deception and financial skulduggery did not emerge until 19th-century historians discovered secret treaty documents between Charles and King Louis XIV of France. Purcell had no idea of course, and so all of the music on this album celebrates the political triumphs that he and his colleagues thought they had witnessed. It includes the quite brilliant Welcome Songs 'Welcome to all the pleasures' (with its superb six-part fanfares to St Cecilia in the final chorus) and 'From hardy climes'.
Kálmán: Die Csárdásfürstin / Bonynge, Et Al
As the important, influential Viennese operetta Die Csárdásfürstin has not been captured on many complete recorded versions, it’s particularly nice to welcome this beguiling new one...The music very craftily fuses Vienna with Budapest in a way that hadn’t been heard since Johann Strauss’s 1885 Zigeunerbaron, and was not heard again until Kálmán’s own Gräfin Mariza in 1924...Operetta maven Richard Bonynge has a close connection with Kálmán, having conducted this score in Australia and elsewhere. His enthusiasm for its riches is manifest in this robust yet finely-detailed recording, in which the vaguely klezmer-like Gypsy string and wind underpinnings come through clearly, as played by the Slovak Radio orchestra, which gets the hot-pepper and tokay accentuation stylishly right...Yvonne Kenny sings prettily as Sylva Varescu...Mojca Erdmann is a delightful Countess Stasi...Naxos adds some Kálmán extras at the end and includes a brief speaking cameo by the composer’s daughter, Yvonne." -- Opera News, April 2005
This is by no means the first good recording of Emmerich Kálmán’s operetta masterpiece The Gypsy Princess. That honor probably goes to the classic EMI, with Anneliese Rothenberger and Nicolai Gedda...But if you are fond of the Viennese operetta idiom and you don’t know this work or lack a recording of it, this new set is a must.
One of its attributes is the sound quality—and while I don’t have four-channel sound, I do have both two and three-channel setups, and in both of those incarnations this hybrid SACD was a stunning audio achievement. Even played as a standard two-channel CD the sound is warm, richly colored, highly detailed without ever seeming clinical. Naxos indicates that this disc contains three versions of the same music: a 5.1 multichannel DSD surround-sound version, a two-channel DSD version, and a standard two-channel stereo version.
It is, however, musical qualities that most strongly recommend this set, and chief among those is Richard Bonynge’s conducting. I should make clear that I have never been a Bonynge enthusiast, and find that in the classic bel canto operas he recorded with his wife Joan Sutherland his conducting lacked incisiveness, rhythmic spine, and momentum. For that very reason, this performance is astonishing—those are precisely the qualities he brings to Kálmán’s delightful score, along with an affectionate warmth that is in evidence from the first notes of the Prelude. It is hard to imagine a more engaging and involving performance of the score than Bonynge gives here. The two leads, Yvonne Kenny and Michael Roider, sound as if they were born to sing this music, even though one of them (Kenny) is Australian. Roider, born in Salzburg, has a lovely lyric tenor voice and the style in his blood. Kenny’s lyric soprano has long been known to us in Mozart and other “serious” repertoire, but she shows a lovely comedic flair and a natural feel for the line of Kálmán’s music. The rest of the cast is splendid, and the entire thing is a treat. It has the feel of a real performance, despite being a studio recording (made in 2002). The second disc is filled with orchestral excerpts from other Kálmán works, which are well worth hearing, and are conducted with the same skill.
Naxos should have gone to the expense of supplying a full libretto. Their detailed synopsis is very helpful, and probably enough for a work that doesn’t deal in dramatic complexity, but we still miss some of the wit and some of the charm of the piece without having a full text available. Nonetheless, this is a highly recommendable set.
Henry Fogel, FANFARE
Kagel: Duodramen, Szenario, Liturgien / Saarbrucken, Et Al
There was always more to Kagel’s art than just jokes, and this set of works show him in the context of broad canvasses, from the Mahlerian orchestral song-cycle form of Duodramen, to the double chorus and full orchestra of Liturgien. Szenario was conceived as a stand-alone concert piece, but has since become associated with the Luis Buñuel/Salvador Dalí silent film Le chien andalou of 1928. The tape part of the score consists of animal noises, with of course a whining, and later a barking dog. These sound samples could have been better, coming over rather distorted and tinny, rather than threatening and aggressive where required. The juxtaposition of sometimes eloquent strings and animal sounds is a little uneasy as well, with the extra noises only cropping up now and again – their relevance not entirely clear without any visual references. Nevertheless, there is an unremitting and pungent weight to the march-like rhythm which is a constant backdrop to some colourful string writing. Kagel can’t resist the occasional Wagner quote, but this work has all of the pregnant atmosphere one should expect from good film music – intentional or not.
Duodramen opens immediately with a post-romantic, operatic sense of drama. Looking at the libretto (available online via a link provided on the CD label) one receives the impression less of a coherent story, more an association of ideas and disparate characters – names such as Casanova, Alma Mahler, Henry Ford and Cosima Wagner inhabiting the score and meeting each other in strange and impossible relationships. The text is in German, but has an English translation on the web-page. There is a great deal of complex detail and dramatic context from beginning to end in this piece, giving it an intensity and resonance which I found quite stimulating. That is not to say that there are no moments of repose, and there are indeed some passages of remarkable orchestral colour – chillingly suggestive or vibrantly picturesque – no doubt helped by the addition of percussion and winds, I found the images conjured in this score in many ways to be far more vivid than the previous Szenario. The brutal intimidation of male over female doesn’t make for easy listening, but then, neither is Wozzeck.
Playing, singing and recordings are all excellent on this disc, and this remains true of the final live performance of Liturgien. Referring once again to the online page, the words are all taken from existing religious texts, the source for each of which also being included in detail. The language used is Latin, which for many will soften the impact of having ‘Alleluia’ standing close to ‘Allah is great!’ There is a ritual nature to the music which suits this intentional levelling of symbolism, and I sense traces of Britten, Martin, Stravinsky, Penderecki, Szymanowski – names whose stamp on religious musical expression, if not necessarily as ambiguous as here, at least invariably bears a strong humanist element.
This piece has an other-worldly, magical quality which is something I have always valued in Kagel, and am delighted to find existing in his larger-scale work. If Duodramen is a drama on a private, intimate scale, Liturgien is very much a public statement. No-one can ignore the significance of religious text, and neither is it possible to ignore the idea of effectively taking religion and mixing its writings in the waste-bin of a shredder. This music has all of the seriousness and weight to carry Kagel’s message of homogeneity. While revelling in this work’s spell it was also nice for me to come across some familiar names to one who works at the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague – I shall never forget Wout Oosterkamp’s warm encouragement as a teacher, or some performances and workshops by Romain Bischoff’s amazing Vocal Laboratory.
Originally recordings by Saarbrücken Radio, Naxos has made a sound move in releasing these recordings – conducted by the composer, and unlikely to be repeated or bettered any time soon. 2006 is Kagel’s 75th jubilee, but no mention of this is made in the booklet, neither is there any suggestion that this is to be part of any series or collection. I would say there is room for such an edition – especially on the strength of this release.
-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International
Humperdinck: Music for the Stage / Salvi, Malmo Opera Orchestra
-----
REVIEWS:
These incidental scores are a real find. They show that Humperdinck was far more than a one work wonder and is surely overlooked among the large number of turn-of-the-century composers who were able to turn out such highly melodic scores. The one real rarity here is the suite arranged from Das Wunder – the first full-colour silent film, made in 1912.
– Lark Reviews
Think of Humperdinck and Hänsel und Gretel immediately springs to mind, and if you dig a little bit deeper, Königskinder. Of course, he was far more prolific than that, and clearly had a rare talent for melody, vocal setting and orchestration. He is regarded as being a disciple of Wagner rather than a composer who forged a unique path, although I was interested to discover that he was the first composer to use Sprechgesang - a vocal technique halfway between singing and speaking, in Königskinder.
This most welcome, well-filled CD gives us a broad cross-section of his music for the stage. It starts with the prelude to Act II of the unknown opera Die Heirat wider Willen (The Forced Marriage), which opens with huge Wagnerian chords leading to more complex passages which quieten to harp chords then return to the opening. It is highly effective, and is probably the most instantly impactive music on the disc.
It is followed by his incidental music to the play Der Kaufman von Venedig (The Merchant of Venice). There are seven sections, the longest being the accompaniment to Act V Scene 1, “The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees”.
At over ten minutes, it is as long as the previous six episodes put together, and, perhaps unsurprisingly given the word painting to inspire him, Humperdinck produces some magical orchestral effects, employing the harp lavishly to illustrate the moon (with a gentle horn accompanying the harp); the same combination is used at the outset, as the lovers begin their conversation. It is the sort of luscious orchestral sound which lulls one into floating along with it. There are vocal parts in the earlier sections, nicely sung by the tenor, soprano and contralto. The next longest scene at just under four minutes is the masked procession. Once again, the composer uses the harp quite prominently when the music quietens. As with all such incidental music, very short sections (three of the seven are each under one minute) can lead to a rather bitty impression, but Humperdinck manages to keep one’s interest - for example, the Casket Song (soprano, chorus, orchestra and harp again) is a 2:45 highlight.
Das Wunder (The Wonder), is music he composed for a British silent film from 1912 made in colour(!). It was presented at the Royal Opera House in 1912, the film being projected on to a screen with the full orchestra and chorus accompanying. The suite here begins with a prelude for solo organ, leading into a Procession and Children’s Dance, which begins with grand pageantry then quietens down for a rustic dance. The longest sections are the last two, the March of the Army and the Death Motif and the Christmas Scene and Finale. The first is quite memorable with flutes, piccolos, fifes and drums, leading to portentous brass chords for the Death Motif. The Christmas music and finale form a much more serene, ten-minute affair, with the orchestra producing a chiming effect for Christmas bells without orchestral bells being employed. I don’t think that the whole piece shows Humperdinck at his most memorable, but it is enjoyable, nonetheless.
Die Wallfahrt nach Kevlaar – Ballade (The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar) is a setting of three poems by Heinrich Heine, and Humperdinck uses soprano, tenor and chorus with orchestra. The songs tell of a journey made by a mother and her sick son to the shrine of The Virgin Mary at Kevelaer. The first song – At the Window stands the Mother - is a 3’30” narrative between soprano and tenor with the chorus commenting leading to an impressive, very Wagnerian crescendo, followed by the soloists combining with the chorus in a long, sustained note at the end. The second song, at just over seven minutes, depicts the visit to the shrine with a processional quality which slowly gathers strength. The tenor sings some very passionate music, somewhat reminiscent of Tanhauser’s Rome Narration, in which the boy and his mother are described. The last section at 4’33” – The Sick Son and the Mother – describes the death of the child, and, as one might expect, is duly solemn. The horn accompanies the soprano in dramatic declamation as the boy dies, and the chorus provide a swelling epilogue, with the soprano and harp softening things in a brief threnody at the very end. The work is set in a most sympathetic manner by Humperdinck.
The CD ends with his incidental music to Aristophanes’ Lysistrata. The composer tries to capture the antique nature of the play through his instrumentation, but even so we can hear Tristan during an extended cor-anglais solo. It is an attractive short suite.
As I mentioned at the outset, I have found this CD to be a welcome issue, and the last three items are all world premiere recordings. The booklet is informative about the composer and the music, and although texts to the sung parts are not provided, they are available from the Naxos website.
The performances are excellent in every respect, as we have come to expect from Malmö, and the recording is well balanced and natural.
– MusicWeb International (Jim Westhead)
Weinberg: Symphony No 6, Rhapsody On Moldavian Themes / Lande, St Petersburg Symphony Orchestra
WEINBERG Rhapsody on Moldavian Themes. Symphony No. 6 • Vladimir Lande, cond; Glinka Choral College Boys’ Ch; St. Petersburg St SO • NAXOS 8572779 (61:02)
Mieczysaw Weinberg’s sad and tortured life is described in the liner notes. The fate of his impressive and unjustly neglected music is explained by the fact that he was kept under wraps by his Soviet masters while others were given all the international glory. Naxos’s series of Weinberg releases, which so far includes three CDs of his cello music, is augmented here with this release of his wonderful Rhapsody on Moldavian Themes and innovative Symphony No. 6.
The Rhapsody begins softly, mysteriously, but builds into an impressive musical structure in which the music almost morphs from one section to another rather than sounding forcibly juxtaposed. These Moldavian themes have a certain Sephardic quality about them, a soulful minor-key tendency that influences one’s emotional reaction to the music even in the most energetic passages. Wisely, too, Weinberg does not over-write, so the piece doesn’t overstay its welcome.
The Sixth Symphony, composed in 1963, is a more mature and reflective work. Divided into five movements, it begins quietly, but this initial Adagio sostenuto does not stay quiet for long; rather, it breaks out into louder, yet no less somber, moods in which the brass and winds combine with the strings in a mode that tends toward the minor. Basses (and possibly cellos) sustain quiet chords while a solo flute plays with great anxiety above them; the solo role then passes on to horn and clarinet. A group of winds, including clarinets, plays a mysterious and restless melody above growling basses; another, quieter eruption with horns ensues; then it ebbs into a soft, unresolved dissonance for the finale.
The second movement includes the chorus of boys’ voices, singing a Lev Kvitko poem about a boy who makes a violin from scraps which he then plays to an audience of animals and birds. (Unfortunately, no texts are included, nor does Naxos direct you to a translation on its website.) The music is bitonal and polyrhythmic, in fact producing at times an almost purposefully uneven, galumphing gait. The music for the boys’ chorus is almost a chant, covering perhaps six tones that are played against the ever-changing harmonies of the orchestral background. A solo violin, emulating the boy’s homemade violin, plays plaintively, then the chorus returns while low wind, string, and brass chords play below them.
The third movement, marked Allegro molto, sounds almost hectic in its fast-forward motion, brass and percussion dominating the soundscape in a more mature and advanced sort of Khachaturian style. An almost klezmer-style clarinet solo interacts with glockenspiel and woodblocks, slurred trombones, and tubas. The fourth is described as a subtle reworking of one of Weinberg’s Jewish Songs from 1944, a rather ominous poem by Samuil Galkin in which the place where a home once stood is now a graveyard for murdered children, which will serve in the future as a memorial. The movement begins in a loud and ominous mood, with crashing timpani, but the chorus enters here in a softer, more conciliatory mood. Its song is a little more involved melodically here, written in C Minor and with the boys often singing in their lower range. Even the clarinet is pitched low, and the basses continue to pursue an ominous mood with occasional outbursts by the horns and low trumpets over percussion. Eventually, what sounds like very low, soft trombones underscore the boys’ song, occasionally colored by glockenspiel and oboe. Oddly, Weinberg ends the symphony with yet another slow movement, marked Andantino. It is based on a poem by Mikhail Lukonin in which “children of the present and future, from the Mississippi to the Mekong, are bid sleep in the confidence of a bright and productive tomorrow.” Appropriately, the music itself is like a lullaby, with wistful choral passages sparsely accompanied, first by the winds and then by lower strings. Certain elements heard earlier make tentative reappearances here, then the choir stops singing in order to give way to a solo violin playing a plaintive melody. The ending is a quiet, unresolved dissonance.
This is remarkable music, excellently played and sung by the various forces involved. As usual, Naxos’s over-reverberant sound blurs the clarity of certain instruments, but in the more atmospheric movement of the symphony this works to its advantage. There’s another recording of the Rhapsody available, conducted by Gabriel Chmura with the Polish National Philharmonic on Chandos 10237, which received a good review in these pages from Barry Brenesal, and both the excellent Kiril Kondrashin and Vladimir Fedoseyev have recorded versions of the Sixth Symphony that I haven’t heard, but taken on its own merits, Vladimir Lande’s performance is very fine.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Rachmaninov: Symphonic Dances / Petrenko, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic
I’ve long thought that Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances ranks among his finest works but this new recording really made me sit up and take fresh notice. For that Petrenko and his orchestra must take a huge amount of credit. However, the quality of the recording itself also has much to do with it. I can only describe the sound on this CD as stunning. By chance, immediately before I put this new Avie disc in my player I’d been listening to Vladimir Ashkenazy’s 1983 Decca recording of Symphonic Dances and The Isle of the Dead. Those are extremely fine performances, splendidly recorded by Decca in the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. On that disc the sound is warm, yet very clear and there’s a good deal of space round the orchestra – I strongly suspect the orchestra was set out on the auditorium floor in the empty Concertgebouw. This Avie recording offers a very different experience for the sound is closer – though not oppressively so – and very present.
Producer John Fraser and Engineer David A. Pigott have produced here one of the best recordings of a symphony orchestra that I’ve heard in a very long time. The orchestra is, as I said, very present yet very natural also. The recording offers a wide side-to-side perspective and also very good front-to-back definition. There’s an abundance of detail to hear – the percussion thrillingly reported and the brass impressive without ever sounding domineering – yet without any sense of artificial spotlighting of sections or individual instruments. With a satisfyingly rich bass foundation and an impressive dynamic range this recording presents the orchestra in a most exciting and very musical way. The sound has terrific definition, not least in the quiet passages, and packs a real punch at climaxes. Best of all, the recording lets you hear just how impressive the performances are. For the orchestra there are few hiding places in Symphonic Dances, especially when the sound is as clear and detailed as this, but the RLPO are consistently sure-footed.
The quality of the recording and Petrenko’s care over balance got my attention from the first bars of Symphonic Dances. The very opening is light, crisp and delicate after which the bold string chords have a most impressive weight. Petrenko drives the music forward with vigour but never overplays his hand. The saxophone solo (from 3:26) is lovingly phrased, imparting just the right feeling of wistful nostalgia. In the succeeding passage (to 5:46) there’s some excellent woodwind playing – and not for the last time on this disc, either. When the strings take up the melody it sings gloriously – and between them Petrenko and the engineers balance the accompaniment of harp and piano perfectly. The eventual return to the movement’s opening material is at first suspenseful and then very exciting. Rachmaninov’s self-quotation from his First Symphony is warmly delivered but without any over-indulgence.
If I have a small criticism it concerns the brevity of the gaps between the movements. There’s a mere two seconds between the first and second dances – the Ashkenazy disc has some six seconds – and only three seconds between the second and third movements. Just a little more time would have been welcome. The second movement is a spectral, awkward waltz: in the memorable phrase of annotator Anthony Bateman “Evening has brought its ghosts”. Petrenko shapes the music with great imagination, conjuring up for this listener at least an image of a dimly lit and faded ballroom that has rather gone to seed. The RLPO strings play splendidly, with plenty of body to their tone – and their woodwind colleagues offer equally fine playing. Petrenko is alive to all the nuances and subtle inflections of Rachmaninov’s music. His is a colourful and well-imagined reading and he draws really responsive playing from his orchestra. Among many details that I relished is the nutty tone of the violas between 7:05 and 7:23 followed by the sound of really hushed violins and a doleful bassoon.
Once Petrenko reaches the main material of the third dance his reading has abundant energy but, rightly, there’s more than a sense of foreboding as well. As a sample of the impressive way in which soft passages are handled, sample the rather sinister passage introduced by the bass clarinet (5:04). Shortly afterwards (6:60 – 9:55) the long, brooding string paragraph, in which the RLPO players excel, is surely Rachmaninov revisiting his Second Symphony but with a melancholy air, knowing that those days are gone for ever. In the last five or six minutes Petrenko urges his players on to an exciting yet darkly-tinged conclusion. In these pages the tambourine, tam-tam and xylophone contributions are magnificently caught by the microphones and the dramatic last few bars bring a superb performance of the work to a tumultuous conclusion.
Recently, I was greatly taken with a live performance of The Isle of the Dead conducted by Evgeny Svetlanov (see review). I found that reading enthralling but its very expansiveness probably courts controversy and will not be to all tastes. Petrenko’s reading is more mainstream, if I may put it that way, in terms of pacing. His account, at 20:58. lasts for almost the same time as Ashkenazy’s (20:52) and is similar in length to several other recordings on my shelves. Mind you, it is salutary to note that the composer’s own 1929 recording with the Philadelphia Orchestra lasts a “mere” 18:05 and even after eighty years that recording still sounds well – and packs a real interpretative punch!
Petrenko isn’t in the Svetlanov league when it comes to expansiveness but his interpretation is still full of brooding power – and his performance affords better playing than we hear on the Svetlanov disc and, as you’d expect, comes in much better sound. This Liverpool account establishes a very potent atmosphere right from the outset. There’s dark grandeur in the playing – and in Petrenko’s conception of the work. As in Symphonic Dances the excellence of the sound supports Petrenko’s balancing of the orchestra magnificently. Between 7:22 and 7:44, for example, the balance between the cello tune and the woodwind decoration round it is outstandingly successful. Later on (8:04 – 9:40) the ear is impressed mightily by sonorous brass, pounding timpani and weighty strings.
Petrenko builds the piece to an impressive and potent central climax, thrillingly reported by the recording, but the way he winds the tension down in the following bars is just as noteworthy. Later on, he invests the urgent, surging string passage (11:23 - 12:59) with real ardour and the main climax of the piece (around 15:30) is shattering in its intensity. As Charon, the boatman, rows back across the Styx from the Isle, his work done for now, the opening music returns and Petrenko controls the sombre conclusion very effectively.
In a way I wish the disc had ended there; the piece that’s placed last would have been a more satisfying opener, I believe. The Rock is a youthful work but a significant achievement nonetheless by the twenty-year-old composer. Apparently Tchaikovsky admired the piece and it’s not hard to see why for the scoring is attractive and the invention is strong. For much of its course the nature of the music is much lighter than that of the other two works on the disc. Petrenko conducts with grace and affection but also does the powerful stretches towards the end very well. In the first few minutes the principal flute, Cormac Henry, has a lot of demanding solo work and he shines under the spotlight that Rachmaninov trains on him. Another example of finesse that caught my ear was the exquisite passage of string tremolandi between 7:04 and 7:39 – it’s details such as this that puts the stamp of distinction on this release. As a piece The Rock may not be the equal of the other works on this disc but it has many attractions and it receives a very fine performance here.
As I hope I’ve conveyed, this is an exceptional disc in every way. It’s one that I’ve enjoyed enormously but I also admire it greatly as an achievement both on the part of the musicians and of the engineers. If you’ve wondered why so much fuss is being made about the work that Vasily Petrenko is doing with the RLPO then this superb CD should provide the answer. Already, in early February, this disc is on my shortlist of Recordings of the Year.
One final thought. Could Avie be persuaded to record this team in Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony? If Petrenko and the RLPO could recapture in a recording of that great, sweeping symphony the form shown on this disc then the result would be a serious challenge to the longstanding hegemony of André Previn’s 1973 recording with the LSO (EMI). Meanwhile, don’t wait to see if that disc appears. Buy this one – now! I doubt you’ll regret it and I hope it will excite you as much as it has excited me.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
