by Audiophile Audition | Aug 31, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
RAVEL: String Quartet in F Major; Menuet sur la nom d’Haydn (trans. Snyder); Menuet antique (trans. Snyder); Menuet in C-sharp minor (trans. Snyder); HAYDN: String Quartet in C Major, Op. 54, No. 2; STRAVINSKY: Concertino for String Quartet – Tesla Quartet – Orchid Classics ORC100085, 63:02 (9/7/18) [Distr. by Naxos] ****:
The Tesla String Quartet likes to conceive itself as innovative, given its namesake, Nicola Tesla (1856-1943), the Serbian-American inventor of extraordinary vitality and eccentric insight. Celebrating their ten-year milestone as an ensemble, the Tesla makes its debut album with pieces that resonate with favorite pieces and arrangements that convey deep association. To quote Tesla, “Though free to think and act, we are held together, like the stars in the firmament, with ties inseparable. These ties cannot be seen, but we can feel them.”
The Tesla Quartet recently took Second Prize as well as the Haydn Prize and Canadian Commission Prize at the 12th Banff International String Quartet Competition. In the accompanying booklet, first violin Ross Snyder claims that the Haydn C Major Quartet “has been my favorite quartet since the first time I heard it at a summer music camp as a young teenager, and it’s the piece that motivated me to dedicate my life to string quartets.”
Maurice Ravel, 1925
As performed in the Concert Hall, Wyastone Leys, Monmouth, UK on 29-30 April and 1 May 2017, the recording enjoys the same vibrant presence that those old Nimbus recordings had, courtesy of Producer Andrew Keener and Engineer Simon Eadon. The opening 1903 Ravel Quartet in F resonates with interior details that emanate from its falling-fourth motif, especially vibrant when Ravel exploits his sonorities in paired instruments. In the presentation of the main theme of the Allegro moderato, we hear the second violin (Michelle Lie) and viola (Edwin Kaplan) in murmured colloquy against Snyder’s main theme. The secondary theme in octaves has a luscious effect between Snyder and Kaplan. The` whiplash and aurally exotic Assez vif scherzo delights in pizzicato gestures that retain something of the percussive gamelan effects of the Javanese orchestra. Even as the four instruments move lyrically, they often assume conflicting rhythms, in 6/8 and 3/4 meters, rather dazzling the ear. Already in movement two we hear the influence of Cesar Franck and his penchant for cyclical treatment of materials, and the Tres lent slow movement proceeds as a nocturne based on first movement motifs, with eerie effects made by fingerboard tremolo and bridge mutes. The Tesla captures the tension and bluster of the last movement Vif et agite with virile force. The drama evolves out of the sudden shots in metrics: 5/8, 5/4, 3/4. The movement plays like a competition piece, rife with ostinato drive colored by rapid tremolandi, short bits of melody, arched arpeggio phrases, and sostenuto passages. The total effect becomes wild, belying the innate Classicism that underlies this composer whose work Stravinsky compares to a meticulous “watchmaker.”
Violinist Snyder “orchestrates” the piano piece of 1909 by Ravel, his elegiac homage on the death of Haydn a century before. Some of the harmonies become quite adventurous, just as Papa Haydn might have injected little shocks to his otherwise complacent Esterhazy auditors. The 1895 piano solo Menuet antique Ravel called “a retrograde work,” but its sunny disposition allows the individual instruments their lyrical flourishes in this transcription, not the least of which come from the low tones of cellist Serafim Smigelskiy. The little 1902 Menuet in C-sharp minor casts a melancholy shadow, a yearning character. It ends almost as quickly as it began, leaving us slightly uneasy, perhaps seeking more tones from this ensemble.
Franz Joseph Haydn
Two five-bar phrases announce the aggressive virtuosity, Vivace, of the C Major Quartet, Op. 54, No. 2 of Haydn (1788), which exploits the concertante capabilities of his first violin. Even harmonically, Haydn seeks bold paths, opting for A-flat Major for a thematic tour de force. After a relatively brief development, Haydn saves his ingenuity for the recapitulation, with expansive treatment of the opening materials, building to a potent fortissimo climax, what one commentator has called the “prophetic innovations” of this most audacious Haydn quartet. Harsh passing dissonances mark the Adagio, some of which sound like gypsy salon music for a slow Hungarian procession. Violinist Snyder has a field day in this work, with its throaty chorale tune in C minor. When intoned by the four instruments, the music has an air of a Brahms passacaglia. The Menuetto emotionally balances out the slow movement, in C Major; but its trio section reverts to the darkness of C minor, here as a kind of askew parody of the opening tune. A completely unusual Adagio announces the final movement, moving once more from C Major to its minor mode, recalling the slow movement. The music evolves into a melancholy contredanse. In the course of these wayward tones, the cello line soars above the violin part. The music might be construed as an empfindsamkeit tribute to K.P.E. Bach. Suddenly, the music rips forward—Presto—but before we can grow accustomed to its energy, the piece reverts to the Adagio, touching us in ways that continue to shake our complacency, musical and psychological.
Igor Stravinsky,
by Pablo Picasso
The “bad boy” of this collection, Igor Stravinsky’s 1920 Concertino, which basks in angular rhythms, crisp attacks and szforzati, jazzy allusions to melody, unison blocks or clusters of sound, and the wild concertante violin part we recall from L’Histoire du Soldat. Vital and rife with red pepper, this rendition will have feet pounding and heart pumping long after the recorded sound dies away.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 31, 2018 | Streams and Podcasts
This week, Gary Lemco will be presenting conductor Serge Koussevitzky—his performances, his legacy. Koussevitzky was a significant conductor in the 1900s, and was a champion of new music, in performance and in commissions.
The Music Treasury can be heard on Sunday, 2 September, from 19:00 to 21:00 PDT, on its host station KZSU in the Bay Area, as well as in the concurrent streaming at kzsu.stanford.edu.
Serge Koussevitzky, conductor and publisher
Serge Koussevitzky, whose original name was Sergey Aleksandrovich Kusevitsky, was born July 14 [July 26, New Style], 1874, in Vyshny Volochyok, Russia and died June 4, 1951, in Boston, Massachusetts, U.S. A champion of modern music, he commissioned and performed many important new works.
“The Rare Koussevitzky” offers the opportunity to hear scores in performances that for many years were suppressed by the Koussevitzky Trust. In recent times, these archives have opened up to collectors via released broadcast transmissions and “pirate” transcriptions. Virtually all of this evening’s works derive from non-commercial recordings captured in performance.
Koussevitzky studied the double bass in Moscow, becoming a virtuoso, and gave recitals in Russia, Germany, and England at which he played his own compositions; his double bass concerto (1905) became a repertory piece.
He first conducted in 1908 in Berlin, leaving the following year to form his own orchestra in Moscow and to found a publishing firm for Russian music; its catalog included works by Aleksandr Scriabin (whose music Koussevitzky especially championed), Sergey Rachmaninoff, Igor Stravinsky, and Sergey Prokofiev. After the Russian Revolution of 1917, he directed the State Symphony Orchestra in Petrograd (St. Petersburg), but left Russia in 1920. In Paris (1921) he organized annual concerts, conducting many new works by Russian and French composers.
From 1924 to 1949 in the U.S., Koussevitzky conducted the Boston Symphony Orchestra and gave first performances of works by Aaron Copland, Roy Harris, Walter Piston, and other contemporary American composers. In 1931, for the orchestra’s 50th anniversary, he commissioned works by Ravel, Prokofiev, and George Gershwin, as well as Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms. He later assumed direction of the Berkshire Music Festival, and in 1940 established the Berkshire Music Center, at which summer courses were given by outstanding American and European musicians. In 1942 he organized the Koussevitzky Foundation to commission and perform new works.
Koussevitzky’s conducting style was highly individual. His interpretations of the works of Tchaikovsky, Sibelius, and other Romantic composers were marked by rhapsodic animation, and he imparted a similar quality to compositions of the modern school.
Rimsky-Korsakov: Russian Easter Overture, Op. 36
Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 26 in D Major, K. 537 “Coronation” (w/R. Casadesus)
Copland: Quiet City
Beethoven: Symphony No. 1 in C Major, Op. 21 (w/O.R.T.F., 1950)
Franck: Symphony in D Minor (Hunter College, 1946)
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 30, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews
WAKO ( Mulelid/Olsen/ Poulsen/Albertsen): Urolige Sinn – Ora Fonogram – (8/25/18) ****½:
(Kjetil Andre Mulelid; piano, Martin Myre Olsen; saxophones, Bardur Reinert Poulsen; bass, Simon Olderskog Albertsen, drums and percussion)
It is worth recalling the advice from the Stoic philosophers that there are no troubles in the world except those contained within our heads. Outside of that peculiar container, the elements and particles move according to the serene and indifferent laws of physics. Yet it is the human fate to move through the world with “Troubles in Mind,” which, as it turns out, is the translation of the title (Urolige Sinn) of this latest offering from the Norwegian Label Ora Fonogram. The striking photograph on the cover shows a man skiing through an icy landscape. He is a shadow against glazed surface and unbounded horizon. His posture suggests resolution; if his troubles bear him down, his resources and ingenuity push him forward. The photo is from 1909 and aptly suited for a meditation on the Inside/ Outside dichotomies of both a musical and existential nature presented by this recording.
The group WAKO is composed of four young Norwegians who have recently taken their avant-garde concept on the road, playing to much acclaim before European audiences of the “willing-ears” sort. The ensemble is conventional: alto sax, piano, bass and drums. The approach, though, is refreshingly new. Taking up our landscape metaphor again, it is as if they have abandoned all unnecessary things for lightness of travel. What they need, they will find. So there are no carefully composed tunes over which solos rage. Nor are there any recycled jazz cliches (and it is precisely in much avant-garde jazz that certain conventions such as Coltrane-isms or Monk-isms are relied on). On 13 short tunes, the group is alert to changing and unstable terrain, and mostly they land on their feet.
There are two modes/methods which seem to prevail. One builds from the rhythm up. The drummer has a dazzling array of rattling and clattering on his kit. Strangely, he doesn’t like fortissimo banging but rather a kind of frenetic subdividing and scrutinizing of a musical idea. The bass broods and thrums along with this torrent of percussion to make a stage for the piano and/ or sax to melodic or figural presentations. No one aspires to narrative, yet there is flow and coherence on even the freest pieces. Two early tracks demonstrate this technique brilliantly. Skumring og det som horer til and Den endlosen planen have no conventional role for the piano and sax, but this doesn’t bother the ensemble in the least; the sax adopts a percussive attitude while the piano plays brief out of sync figures in a floating revery detached from the burbling energies around it. These tracks are vigorous, inventive moments of supreme concentration. Their brevity might be strategic as this kind of unstructured playing can, if taken with too much self-seriousness, send the listener into the kitchen to look for culinary diversions.
Wako
Photo © Signe Fuglesteg Luksengard
The other method builds around a theme with modest forward harmonic movement. However, even this framework seems unstable and can quickly dissolve into planned chaos. Skavelet fore is a stupendous piece of playing on more conventional jazz material. There is a hard driving swing from both drums and bass, which suggests a powerful tune a-coming. Rather, one gets a keening wail and fluttering of keys in the best incendiary tradition of John Zorn. Yet remarkably, the tune lurches forward, escorting the frenzied reed player in a satisfying but completed utterance. By the end, one feels that sure that this saxophonist is a major discovery in the works. His playing is self-assured and boldly declarative. It bears comparison to bold flight in icy conditions. Perhaps our solitary skier will look up and see the arctic loving Gyrfalcon bracing for a stoop against sharp winds. A poignant sketch, Du grater aldri, on which Mulelid’s piano approaches ECM territory, is haunting. The following tune, Elisabeths vise, works on a binary structure with more predictable comings and goings. They are plausible assays without the sense of daring or excitement of the best works on this disc.
Perhaps, though, in the end, it is the pianist Kjetil Andre Mulelid who most inhabits the portable troubles of the ski-shod sojourner. His finest moments are brooding, introverted passages which seem like they will build to a lyrical statement but which are in the end constrained by modesty or pessimism. Perhaps it is just good tema playing or Scandinavian manners. Regardless, he never dominates the conversation with a declarative chord, preferring oblique commentary and upward inflected suggestions. There are other times when he demonstrates technical resources that could have only been gained by working through Gyorgi Ligeti or some such modern classical composer. The three tracks credited this pianist, and especially the last Langt, langt der nede, show a deft compositional skill. Even here he stops short of rhapsodizing, allowing the drums to suggest a remote sort of glacial beauty.
In the end, the strength of the record lies in the perfect realization of an entirely open-ended high-rick sort of improvised group playing. It is difficult for the album to maintain the impossible standards of the tracks two, three, and four, and one waits for moments of clarity and bursts of downhill velocity. But nothing is dull, nor is there pretense or freakishness. The sound is yet another achievement. Perhaps the engineer was most generous to the drum kit, but there is a nice separation and consistent balance to the sound image overall. It is a very short set but good enough to play a second time straight through.
A link from their own site, WAKO, shows this fine group in action on a concert take of The Lizard, the Snake and the Panther, or Skavlet Føre, from their recording session. If proof is needed, it demonstrates the remarkable signature sound of Martin Myhre Olsen, whose playing in this instance is much more mainstream—and very beautiful.
All in all, another success from an adventurous label that should have wider representation on this side of the Atlantic. Let’s hope their sojourns take them in this direction soon.
—Fritz Balwit
Wako
Photo © Signe Fuglesteg Luksengard
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 30, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews, SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
Keith Jarrett – The Köln Concert – ECM Records ECM 1064/65 ST 272 7888 (1975/2018) 180-gram stereo double vinyl [distr. by Universal] 67:33 *****:
(Keith Jarrett – piano)
Keith Jarrett – The Köln Concert is the best-selling solo album in jazz history. It is also the best-selling piano album. Recorded on January 24, 1975 at the Opera House In Cologne, the double vinyl (ECM Records) consisted of four pieces of entirely improvised material that lasted over 67 minutes. Part of the backstory is that Jarrett (who was physically exhausted and suffering from back pain) was expecting to perform on a Bosendorfer 290 Imperial concert grand piano. By mistake, a baby grand Bosendorfer with significantly inferior sound was provided. Jarrett was able to manipulate his piano technique, concentrating on the middle keys, as the upper and lower registers were tinny and the pedal did not function optimally. In a further complication, the concert (the first ever jazz performance at the Köln Opera House) was scheduled for 11:30 P.M. And that may be the essential quality of a committed, passionate musician; he somehow made this work. Engineer Martin Weiland used a pair of Neumann U-67 vacuum-tube powered condenser microphones and a Telefunken M-5 portable tape machine. The rest is jazz history.
ECM Records has released a 180-gram re-mastered vinyl of The Köln Concert. More then 40 years later, the exhilarating performance still resonates. “Part I” establishes the outlines of complex improvisation over a couple of chord vamps. It begins with a melodic, ethereal touch, influenced by some gospel flair. There are ruminative explorations that are followed by punctuated rhythmic accents. It is an interesting flow as scintillating classical flourishes lead into low-keyed muscular shading. With pulsating intensity and delicate interludes (and yes, some enthusiastic yells), Jarrett manages to convey both restraint and sustained intensity. The aspirational “big finish” is spine-tingling. “Part II a” (a “shorter” 15:00 track) feels like a two-section suite. Jarrett opens with pulsating, hypnotic bass chords. There is a relentless undercurrent. The gospel inflection is more palpable and there are right hand counter melodies and bluesy riffs. At about the halfway point, there is a transition to a wistful, gorgeous flow. With elegiac resonance (but still enough left-hand emphasis), Jarrett caresses the melody with hushed reverence and dramatic intonation. The progression of this jam from basic vamp to expanded airiness glows with eloquence.
“Part II b” also starts with the simple bass chord (s) fueled by unabating energy. Some regard this style as a precursor to later contemporary solo jazz piano. In particular, Jarrett’s commitment to establish a steady repeat of a chord while embellishing it with right hand notation was unheard of, and in some cases criticized among jazz purists. But the theatrical coherence enables the pianist to introduce a number of improvisational additions, including progressive chord modulation. The repeat offers a sprightly counterpoint to pensive gossamer textures. Eventually, there is a shift to a classical-infused elegiac movement. The soothing turn has a hymnal essence that underscores Jarrett’s keen ear for harmonic imagery. The combination of driving rhythm and suppleness is amiable and complex. Side 4 is a brief (under 7 minutes) encore. This track (“Part II c”) embraces elements of compositional structure. The achingly beautiful melody begins joyously with some tempo. The rolling left hand maintains the pace, and the right hand statements are colorful. Jarrett is aware of timed silences. There are moments when notes seem to hang in thin air. He morphs to a slower cadence, and there is an Americana vibe to this part of the arrangement.
ECM’s re-mastered vinyl of The Köln Concert captures the bravado and concert acoustics with amazing precision and vibrancy. The “less than optimal” sharp tonality of the baby grand is rendered as is, without any studio gimmicky. The listener is drawn into the hypnotic, improvisational flows that characterize Jarrett’s style and artistic vision. The black & white cover photo (Wolfgang Frankenstein) is a simple reflection of the meditative visage of this legendary performer. Each additional listen to this concert brings a new-found appreciation for various nuances and innovation.
Keith Jarrett – The Köln Concert should be part of any music aficionado’s collection, especially this vinyl reissue!
TrackList:
Side 1: Köln January 24, 1975 Part I
Side 2: Köln January 24, 1975 Part II a
Side 3: Köln January 24, 1975 Part II b
Side 4: Koln January 24, 1975 Part II c
—Robbie Gerson
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 30, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews, SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
The Modern Jazz Quartet – The Sheriff – Atlantic Records 1414 (1964)/Pure Pleasure Records PPAN SD11414 180-gram stereo vinyl, 30:21 ****1/2:
(John Lewis – piano; Milt Jackson – vibraharp; Percy Heath – double bass; Connie Kay – drums)
The Modern Jazz Quartet was an integral part of the cool jazz movement. With relaxed tempos and formal arrangement (like classical music), this departure from frenetic atonal bebop was pioneered by Miles Davis. Earlier influences on cool jazz included trumpeter Bix Beiderbecke and tenor saxophonist Lester Young. A preference for melodic flows rather than wilder chord manipulations were important characteristics.. Bebop had some of the core elements of cool jazz. This new sound was referred to as softer bebop, but that was oversimplified. Players like Davis, Gill Evans, Lee Konitz, Stan Kenton, Dave Brubeck, Jimmy Giuffre, Paul Desmond, Gerry Mulligan and Zoot Sims were advocates of cool jazz.
One of the bands to emerge in this new wave was the Modern Jazz Quartet. Pianist and co-founder John Lewis integrated classical forms including fugues into the mix. Also coined as third stream jazz, Lewis was influenced by baroque composers (especially J.S. Bach). Modern classicists like Bela Bartok also practiced third stream dynamics. In the case of the Modern Jazz Quartet, the goal was to perform more subtle jazz that still had inherent rhythmic sensibility. Vibraharp master Milt Jackson was a strong counterpoint to Lewis with his sprightly, bop-influenced runs. He was arguably the first musician to play the vibes like a bop musician. Double bassist Percy Heath and drummer Connie Kay were more than equal to the task of pioneering this representation of cool jazz. Perhaps the greatest achievement of this group was their ability to accompany a variety of jazz icons as well as orchestras and jazz bands. Their prodigious studio output for Atlantic Records (20 years) is staggering.
Pure Pleasure Records has released a re-mastered 180-gram vinyl update of the 1964 album, The Sheriff. In a succinct (barely 30 minutes) 7 track album, The Modern Jazz Quartet incorporate their unique amalgam of classical jazz into deftly structured performances. What makes the chemistry of this ensemble so rich and deeply connected is the fact that they played together as a unit (with one personnel change) for four decades. Side One gets underway with the title track, a John Lewis original (one of 4). This a free-swinging romp showcasing Milt Jackson percolating vibes with crisp, bluesy runs. Lewis follows with an up-tempo solo. The “minimalist” discipline doesn’t enter her, as the group hits a big finish. There is a lot happening in a mere 2:39. (Note: Leonard Feather’s liner notes are chock full of technical information regarding the arrangements). Next up is a piece Lewis wrote for the 1961 film, A Milanese Story. Unlike the original arrangement (flute, guitar and string quartet), this one is medium swing, but with nods to unusual cool jazz time signatures. Lewis starts off with syncopated notation runs before handing it off to Bags who soars. Lewis intuitively maneuvers around Jackson’s ferocity with nuanced rhythm and phrasing.
The Modern Jazz Quartet
Fans of this group can always expect the unexpected. That’s what they get on “Bachian As Brasileiras”. Written by the legendary Brazilian classical composer Heitor Villa-Lobos, MJQ performed this number with guitarist Laurindo Almeida at the 1963 Monterey Jazz Festival. The “souped up” jazz version is exhilarating. Lewis and Jackson play in a dynamic counterpoint of classical and blues imagery. Double bassist Percy Heath is extraordinary and diverse (pizzicato and arco) and creates an ominous ambience with his bowed play. There is a subtle 3/4 tempo shift and a Latin-infused ending. Jackson brings the jam to a breathless hush with a reverberating single note. “Mean To Me” has always seemed an unlikely jazz vehicle, but became a standard. Lewis’ chords intermingle seamlessly with Jackson’s sizzling lines that almost reinvent the melody). The slowed-down beginning gets a polyrhythmic “hot” break with Heath’s hard-driving bass and Connie Kay’s superb cymbals and snare.
Another Lewis opus, “Natural Affection” (composed for the William Inge play of the same name) is pure bossa nova grooves (reflective of 1964). Lewis’ breezy, at times ethereal solo is melodic. He joins the rhythm section in chord progressions against Jackson’s stylized riffs. A second composition from Natural Affection, “Donnie’s Theme” opens with Heath in a brief counter with Bags. The quartet morphs into a downbeat jam with vibraphone sustain. Lewis and Jackson blend their simultaneous “dueling solos”. Lewis’ runs are very jazzy and Heath briefly solos to the close. Must of the album’s cuts are concise with the exception of “Bachian As Basileiras’ (5:43) and the ultimate finale, Luiz Bonfa’s “Carnival” (6:06). Also known as “Manha De Carnaval”, this widely renowned theme from Black Orpheus has enjoyed several celebrated versions, but this is one is memorable. There is unadulterated MJQ mojo, with all four members playing cohesively. Jackson’s initial solo approximates the core melody before the improvisational transition. Lewis is not as flashy, but injects a winsome lyricism that permeates the song. Bags returns for a second definitive run with a glowing echo at the end.
Pure Pleasure Records has re-mastered The Sheriff to vibrant 180-gram vinyl. The integrity of Tom Dowd’s (record producer and engineer whose decades-long career is beyond legendary) source engineering is captured with integrity. The stereo separation is flawless (with vibes on left and piano on right). The idiosyncratic tonalities of the vibraphone are all there, including the precise crispness and looser vibrato. The studio effects have echo and reverberation, but in measured amounts. The original packaging with the “high fidelity” references to R.I.A.A. high-frequency roll-off and 500 cycle crossover are a glimpse into vintage recording. As indicated previously, Leonard Feather’s incisive liner notes are brilliant, as is the “Modern Art” cover.
TrackList:
Side One: The Sheriff; In A Crowd; Bachian As Brasileiras; Mean To Me
Side Two: Natural Affection; Donnie’s Theme; Carnival
—Robbie Gerson
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 29, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews
Mark Obert-Thorn restores previously unpublished, vital Rudolf Serkin performances to the active catalogue.
Rudolf Serkin: Early and Unpublished Recordings = BEETHOVEN: Piano Sonata No. 23 in F minor, Op. 57 “Appassionata”; BUSONI: Violin Sonata No. 2 in E minor, Op. 36a: Presto and Andante con moto; SCHUMANN: Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 54 – Adolf Busch, violin/ Rudolf Serkin, piano/ London Philharmonic Orchestra/ Julius Harrison – Pristine Audio PAKM 077, 72:21 [pristineclassical.com] ****:
Much as this year tends to be dominated by Leonard Bernstein retrospectives, this reviewer has distinct memories of having met Bohemian-American pianist Rudolf Serkin (1903-1991) in Atlanta directly after his recital of the last three Beethoven piano sonatas. I no less recall how impressed I had been with the fierce version of the Beethoven Chorale Fantasy that he and Bernstein had made together as a complement to their rendition of the C minor Concerto. Serkin, moreover, delivered my first LP “Appassionata” as part of his 1963 CBS LP (ML 5881) of three Beethoven sonatas. Thus, when Mark Obert-Thorn’s latest excursion into Serkin’s recorded history arrived, I approached the 3 November 1936 version with eager anticipation.
Typically, Serkin executes the F minor Sonata No. 23 (1804) as an expression of heroic, Promethean temperament. Curiously, the piece opens with figures—in the same key—from his Op. 2, No. 1 Sonata, but the similarity dissipates quickly, given the range of expression and the dynamic contrasts Beethoven demands. The motto figure in dotted rhythm rises through the tonic key to a glittery trill, then repeats a semitone higher in a Neapolitan (flatted second) mode. Beethoven’s sense of economic compression keeps the materials, even the secondary theme in A-flat, close to the tenor of the opening, even while exploding to the full diapason of the keyboard, from the high treble to the somber bass five octaves away. The “fate” motif, of course, allows a percussionist like Serkin to simulate the full orchestra before the coda’s mumbling tremolo recedes into cosmic space. I find Serkin’s Andante con moto—a theme and four variations— lyrically expressive, unmannered, direct, and eminently songful. But the trumpet soon sounds, in the manner of a diminished 7th chord’s desire to become Shelley’s “trumpet of prophecy.” Serkin supercharges the flying 16ths that comprise a virtual moto perpetuo and generate a tense instability. The secondary theme seems a variant of the first figure, set in C minor, and it proceeds to a wild, czardas Presto, whose sheer momentum threatens to throw Serkin’s fingers off their knuckles. Even after 80 years, this rousing performance testifies to a demonic talent on both sides of the page.
Serkin’s happy relationship, musical and personal, with German violist-conductor Adolf Busch (1891-1952) formed part of my discussion with Serkin back in Atlanta. Let me add that we also spoke about Max Reger’s Concerto in F minor, which Serkin and Mitropoulos premiered for the Minneapolis audience, and which success compelled them to repeat the last movement. Both Serkin and Busch revered the music and personality of Ferruccio Busoni, and they had prepared the 1901 E minor Sonata for the composer as early as 1921. The broadcast from WABC (19 January 1940) comes from the Library of Congress, and joins the famed duo near the end of the Presto movement. Busch’s violin tone, highly reminiscent of that of Joseph Szigeti in its nasal, piercing, reedy character, does inflect some sense of Busoni’s idiosyncratic lyricism. The extended Andante con moto movement—captured in its entirety—presents a series of variations on a Bach chorale, Wie wohl ist mir. We might recall that Clara Haskil and Joseph Szigeti were fond of this sonata for their recital programs. Often, the arrangement and classical refinement of the variants reflects as much of Beethoven as of Bach, the latter especially in the fugal variation that the Busch-Serkin duo manages to play as if it were an improvisation.
Serkin had been contracted to record the Schumann Concerto (19 November 1936) with conductor Sir Hamilton Harty, which surely would have been explosively compelling. Composer Julius Harrison (1885-1963) stepped in for the ailing Harty, and together, he and Serkin produce an alternately lyric and driven, “live” performance, buttressed by the London Philharmonic, which Beecham and Sargent had honed into Britain’s finest orchestra. In his accompanying notes, Tully Potter mentions the contribution of oboe virtuoso Leon Goossens. We must pay attention to the LPO tympani section, as well. In spite of Serkin’s repute for colossal, even over-wrought, piano dynamism, there occur many moments of nothing less than magical intimacy in this performance, augmented by those passages in which the demon presides. The restored sound of these shellacs proves exemplary.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 28, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
“How I Met Mozart” = MOZART: Clarinet Quintet in A Major, K. 581; WEBER: Clarinet Quintet in B-flat Major, Op. 34 ‒ Pierre Génisson, clarinet / Quartet 212 ‒ Aparté AP149 [Distr. by Harmonia mundi/PIAS], 61:22 ****:
A perusal of the catalog tells me that the pairing of the Mozart and Weber quintets is as popular as that of Mozart and Brahms. With the later combo we have peas in a pod, two late works with a burnished beauty: serious, patrician in tone. Weber is another matter; his work is youthful, playful—as critics have noted, a mini-clarinet concerto in which the clarinetist really gets to show his virtuoso chops. I think I favor pairing either the Mozart or Brahms with the bubbly Weber.
So here we have Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet, written just two years before the composer’s death for his friend Anton Stadler. Stadler played the work on a basset clarinet, an instrument which, as the name implies, is related to the clarinet’s cousin the basset horn. In range, the basset clarinet lies between the soprano clarinet and the basset horn, having some extra keys that allow it to play a few extra low notes. Like most contemporary clarinetists, Pierre Génisson plays the Mozart on a standard soprano clarinet.
As noted, Mozart’s work is mostly earnest and restrained, although a rustic element enters in the minuet, which unusually has two trios, the second recalling that Austrian folk dance, the ländler. This contrasts nicely with the first trio, cast in the stern key of A minor. The high point of the work is probably the ethereal slow movement, where the clarinet gets to announce the chief melody over quiet string figures. Later, the clarinet shares this duty with the first violin, and they spin a lovely duet before a series of runs in the clarinet and then a brief solo return us to that long-breathed opening melody.
The finale has a snappy little theme that Mozart subjects to five contrasting variations in which the clarinet is either front and center (Variation 1 and 4) or a team player who cedes the spotlight to other members: the first violin in Variation 2, the viola in Variation 3. By the way, Mozart played the viola in the debut performance at the end of 1789. After a hushed final variation in which, again, first violin and clarinet share the solo duties, the piece ends with a confident Allegro coda.
Weber’s Quintet may be generally more lighthearted than Mozart’s, but the slow movement, marked Fantasia, begins darkly, pensively, though it goes on to fulfil its fantastic designation, traversing a range of moods before returning to the darker purlieus of its opening. The third movement, marked Menuetto, is a scherzo in all but name with some comic stops and starts and as always, athletic writing for the clarinet.
As with most of Weber’s other works for clarinet, including the two wonderful Concerti and the Concertino, the piece was written for Heinrich Bärmann, solo clarinet of the Munich Opera. Based on the music Weber’s wrote for him, Bärmann must have had a liquid tone as well as virtuoso bona fides. Given the spontaneity of the Quintet, it’s surprising to note that Weber worked on it over the course of four years, completing the piece in 1815. Not surprisingly, the first movement completed was the Menuetto, in which Weber established the generally playful quality of the work.
Pierre Génisson, too, has the liquid tone and unfailing virtuosity that Weber demands, and he turns in a delightful performance abetted by Quartet 212, composed of soloists from the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. They work hand-in-glove together in all those exchanges between solo strings and clarinet, including the surprisingly learned fughetto that Weber injects into the finale. That’s just as true of the Mozart, where the players catch the spirit of this different species of music perfectly, as far as I’m concerned. The recording from the American Academy of Arts and Letters in New York is big, bright, deep in perspective, complementing the performances. A very successful presentation of these two well-loved works.
—Lee Passarella
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 28, 2018 | Pop/Rock/World CD Reviews, SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
Solomon Burke – King Solomon – Atlantic Records (1968)/Pure Pleasure Records PPAN (2018) SD18158 180-gram stereo vinyl, 33:37 ****1/2:
Born in West Philadelphia, Solomon Burke wasn’t merely influenced by gospel, he was the gospel! He started preaching at 7, and was known as Boy Wonder Preacher. It seemed inevitable (as with some other gospel performers) that recording was in his future. Burke signed with Apollo Records in 1955, and released nine singles in two-years. Despite this prolific output, Burke labored in anonymity as a rhythm and blues star. After other unsuccessful attempts to revive his flagging career, he signed with Atlantic Records in 1960. With the departure of Ray Charles, the timing was important. Burke recorded a staggering 32 singles that charted on r & b lists with some cross-over appeal. “Just Out Of Reach (Of My Two Open Arms)”, If You Need Me” “You’re Good To Me”, “Everybody Needs Someone To Love” “Got to Get You Off My Mind” and “Tonight’s The Night” were some of the minor hits. Like other gospel singers (most notably Aretha Franklin), Burke objected to the disrespectful moniker “r & b singer”. But his live performances displayed theatrics like Jackie Wilson and James Brown, which endeared him to audiences. He was the first r & b performer to record Dylan (“Maggie’s Farm”) and was named the “King Of Rock ’N’ Soul”, appearing on stage with a crown and robe. As other artists rose to fame at Atlantic (especially Otis Redding), Burke declined in stature and commercial viability. To this day. Solomon Burke is regarded as the most under appreciated soul singer of all time.
Pure Pleasure Records has released a 180-gram re-mastered vinyl of a seminal Atlantic album, King Solomon. Originally recorded in 1968, it represented a comeback for the “King”. This album is a primer for gospel-based r & b. Twelve tracks (most under 3:00) showcase the visceral appeal of soul music. Side 1 gets off to a rousing start with a cover of Pops Staples’ “It’s Been A Change”. Solomon brings a hard-driving “testimony” approach to this interpretation with his emotional vocals. The backup singers contribute to the gospel permeation. With a slow-burning intensity, “Take Me (Just As I Am)” is exemplary “sweet soul music” with organ shading. Solomon bares his soul and manages to give a nod to Wilson Pickett, Joe Tex and Otis Redding before the big wailing finish. “Time Is A Thief” was a hit for country artist Mickey Newbury. The King intermingles soul and country as effectively as Ray Charles. There has always been a link between these genres.
Solomon Burke
The authenticity and bluesy resonance of this performer is compelling on “Keep A Light In The Window”. The lonesome soldier’s lament to his sweetheart is brought to life in a tour-de-force vocal performance that progresses from restraint to moaning and then flat-out wailing The horns and strings add to the poignancy. “Baby Come On Home” displays a slower, deliberate style of singing, but still expresses the potent sensual context in this reflection of lovesick blues. Solomon puts his stamp on the Bobby Bare classic, “Detroit City”. The funky soul grooves and homesick melancholy (“…if they could only read between the lines…”) glow with pathos and vocal grit. Side B opens with an accessible cover of Eddie Floyd’s “Someone Is Watching” This sounds like a Stax-type arrangement with guitar hooks and a booming saxophone run. Of course the backup vocals bring that “Sunday” feel to the number.
Switching gears, Don Covey’s “Party People” is a finger-snapping, good-time stroll line. The jaunty tempo is refreshing. Slowing it way down, “When She Touches Me (Nothing Else Matters)” exudes rawness as Burke bares his heart and soul (“…She’s mean to me, but when she touches me, nothing else matters…”) in a superb recreation of the healing power of love. The soul-balladry angst fits Burke’s vocal range. “How Do You Make You Love You Like You Do” is dynamic in its embrace of painful dedication. Burke infuses Brooke Benton’s mellow “It’s Just A Matter Of Time” with palpable gospel roots. The arrangement has great string accents and wonderful back up singing. The overall intensity build up makes this a “King Solomon” translation. In a surprising finale, a self-penned holiday opus “Presents For Christmas” includes a shout out to disc jockeys and policemen in a hybrid of Sam Cooke and Wilson Pickett.
It is hard to fathom how a singer this talented never became a major star (and legendary producer Jerry Wexler agrees). He did not receive a Grammy until 2003. Pure Pleasure Records has done a superior job in re-mastering King Solomon to 180-gram vinyl. The overall mix is balanced with Burke’s soulful voice in the front. Both the grittiness and fluid tonality of Burke are captured with a radiating warmth. All of the instrumentation is folded in to surround the vocals.
Long live the King Of Rock ’N’ Soul!
TrackList:
Side 1: It’s Been A Change; Take Me (Just As I Am); Time Is A Thief; Keep a Light In The Window; Baby Come On Home; Detroit City
Side 2: Someone Is Watching; Party People; When She Touches Me (Nothing Else Matters); Woman; How Do You Make Me Love You Like You Do; It’s Just A Matter Of Time; Presents For Christmas
—Robbie Gerson
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 28, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
Ulrich Zeitler: Veni Sancte Spiritus – Ensemble 333, Catalogue No: MDG9022045 – Label: MDG – 5.1 channel SACD TT: 71:00 (8/17/18) ****:
To me, there is nothing more stirring than hearing a chorus singing sacred music. A case in point is this wonderful offering on the MDG label, in glorious surround sound in the SACD format.
The music here is contemporary, rather than traditional hymns. The composer is Ulrich Zeitler. (b) 1967, who has written some dramatic choral music in a most non-traditional manner, often mixing, subtle references to jazz in his compositions.
This recording and performance is quite absorbing, as Zeitler interrelates the traditional Pentecost sequence Veni Sancte Spiritus and Veni Creator Spiritus, a much older hymn by Rabanus Maurus, and his modern musical language incorporating jazz elements produces an up-to-date profession of faith, with his highly versatile ensemble also contributing significantly to its special appeal.
Zeitler’s Ensemble 333 is both a choir and a pool of soloists. Teaming up with five instrumentalists, they produce the countless sound combinations on which the composer draws.
Zeitler has scored his work for twelve solo parts and a choir of up to twenty voices. The contralto clarinet supplies a firm tonal foundation and with it the point of departure for a series of original improvisations.
This disc is a great experience on SACD, giving the listener an ‘in the room’ type of sound. voices and instruments are nicely spread between the front speakers, and the surrounds give us the sound of the recording location which was a large church. You can, of courze, listen to the stereo layer on the disc, but the sound loses its drama and immediacy.
Zeitler is not well known but he is certain to gather increasing acclaim for the depth and skill of his compositions.
Highly recommended for a musical and audio experience
—Mel Martin
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 27, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews, Pop/Rock/World CD Reviews
Anouar BRAHEM: Blue Maqams – ECM 2580, 76:00 ( 10/13/17) : *****:
Plus A Discography of the ECM Recordings of Anouar Brahem
(Anouar Brahem; oud, Dave Holland; bass, Jack DeJohnette; drums, Django Bates; piano)
For the first two decades after its founding recording of 1969, the label ECM was dedicated to refining its aesthetic creed, “the next best sound to Silence.” In the context of those turbulent times, it offered jazz musicians a way out of the conflicts of disputatious styles: post-bop, free jazz, fusion, world jazz etc. Here was a label that created an Über-Identitat. Starting from the sound—overly resonant spacious acoustics with dazzling clarity—and working towards a cool detachment from jazz references and with a penchant for moody lyricism, modal effusiveness and sheer beauty, the label gained prominence among hard-core jazz enthusiasts while finding a much wider audience than any in the United States had ever enjoyed. The most representative recordings of this period are the piano trios of Steve Kuhn, Keith Jarrett, Paul Bley, Bobo Stenson, inter alia, each achieving an individual statement while contributing to a durable formula for a new style of improvised music.
Towards the end of the ‘80s, two developments led to a significant expansion of the label. First was the foundation of a sub-label called ECM New Series, which seriously engaged with Classical Music and new composers. Second, Manfred Eicher began to take an interest in world music (not “World Music,” a confection of globalized pop music that is a marketing concept). involving encounters with musical traditions as distinct as African, Pakistani, Latin American and Middle-Eastern. What was discovered in these encounters was, however, the malleability and potential for cross-fertilization. In the end, the ECM aesthetic was no mere additive, but rather the matrix through which traditional musics became modern.
Amouar Brahem – Barzakh
A superb instance of this can be seen in a record (Barzakh) that appeared in 1990 to just acclaim by Tunisian oud-master Anouar Brahem. At the time, the artist was thirty-three and director of the Musical Ensemble of City of Tunis. That year saw him relocate to Paris, where his restless curiosity led inevitably to his discovery of new forms of improvisation and new musical languages, amidst which Keith Jarrett made an indelible mark. How Brahem, whose recorded resumé up to this point can be found on cassette tapes circulating in his own country, suddenly ends up in Manfred Eicher’s legendary studio is not clear. The result though is the album Barzakh. I can think of no other artists who makes such an auspicious debut as Brahem, especially on the initial track, which is an improvisation called Raf Raf. On one hand, it sounds like traditional Arabic music in its technical aspect. It is a Maqam (basically a scale which has traditional associations and prescribed melodic constraints) elaborated in a dazzle of musical ideas without straying from its modal underpinning. Yet it seems to burst the confines of traditional music. A folk music almost by definition meets the expectations of the listener rather than baffles them, which is what this music does. It evokes Baroque improv—after all, the oud is cousin to the lute, once the supreme instrument in a tradition of refined improvised dance music. It is also Andalusian, with something of the controlled frenzy and passion of that idiom. In any case, it is a piece of virtuosity and joy nicely captured by Eicher in his inimitable way– passionate and cool at the same time, rooted and universal.
Barzakh features meditative oud solos and ensemble pieces with two colleagues Bechir Selmi on the violin and Lassad Hosni on Percussion. Titles of songs are mostly in Arabic (they will switch to French later in his career). A good number of them are astringent; the violin is played in uncompromising middle-eastern tradition with little in the way of vibrato and a whining intonation which gives the music a somberness which is not always alleviated by the bubbling rhythms of Hosni hand-drums.The cover is a remarkable calligraphic collage. On the whole, the album serves as fine introduction to a Tunisian musician in the process of assembling a new art music.
Brahem – Conte de Incroyable Amour
One year later, ECM released a second album Conte de Incroyable Amour. It involves a reconfigured ensemble; the clarinet of Barbaros Erkose and the ney of Kudsi Erguner replace the violin. Lassad Hosni remains on bendir and darbouka. Overall, the mood is even more restrained (perhaps Eicher’s influence). The compositions are more well-defined. It conveys the serenity and rapt attention of chamber music. Yet the maqams and inflections of middle-eastern music language persist. There is nothing of fusion or a reaching for jazzy effects. The title track is a marvel of elegance. At the time, I considered this to be among ECM’s finest recordings to date and I still find it to be one the finest from the 90’s.
Anouar Brahem next appears on Madar (2000) with iconic ECM artist Jan Garbarek and tabla virtuoso Shaukat Hussain. With the first entry, the thwack and gurgle of the tabla skins situates the music in the idiom of the sub-continent. The theme of this nearly 17 minute raga, Sull Lull, is based on a traditional Norwegian melody, consisting of a simple descending and then rising dotted figure, which will be the frame for a stirring group improvisation. Brahem gamely holds his own on unison passages and then delivers especially fine improvisations on the folk mode of the tune. However, Garbarek’s big sound and even bigger personality dominate this piece, as well as the equally long raga, Qaws, at the end of the proceedings. In between, there are some lovely Brahem sketches, as well as some fine interactions with the tabla player, who has an uncanny capacity for melodic commentary and is superbly captured in the brilliant soundscape. Fans of Garbarek would not want to miss this recording; but it is non-essential within the Brahem discography.
Brahem – Thimar
In 1998, the recording Thimar features a most inspired alliance with Dave Holland, gives the Tunisian oud player an opportunity to look outward over the jazz horizon and at the same time to go deeper into the groove. Holland was imprinted on modal music and is the undisputed master of funky mixed-meter vamps. On this record, he finds some of his most persuasive ostinatos in a cooler register than he is used to. The third member of the trio is the Brit reed player John Surman, who plays both soprano saxophone and bass clarinet. All the titles bear Arabic names and with two exceptions, the compositions of the oud player. The playing is of a consistently high order. There are supremely mesmerizing moments when the bass and oud become ravishing. Stylistic features recede, and the music becomes timeless and universal. If this recording falls short of a masterpiece, it is owing to a few moments when the soprano seems at odds with the stringed instruments, this in spite of Surman’s dazzling technique and sympathetic rapport with his peers.
By Astrakan Cafe (2000), Brahem has become so confident of his compositional prowess that he is capable of scaling back to even more spacious simplicity. Erkose, the inimitable Turkish-Gypsy clarinetist, is back, as is Lassad Hosni on hand drums. The title track bookends the session, first as a solo and finally as a trio. It is a memorable tune and perfect study of the oudist’s art. Manfred Eicher recorded this in an Austrian Monastery of St Gerold. Indeed there are some very special acoustics involved, a special bloom on the middle range of the mulberry bowl of the oud and an extra za’atar in the percussive flavorings. It is the second masterpiece and will endure as long as Arabian lute is honored.
Brahem’s efforts to adapt the oud and the maqams to such a variety of improvised traditions—Jazz, Turkish, Andalusian—were highly inventive, but his ambitions to have the oud meet the two definitive Mediterranean instruments which define both classical and folk music—the piano and the accordion—are remarkable. Surely these instruments were familiar to the young Tunisian as he was growing up in Tunisia, which after all leans out towards Europe both culturally and geographically. But who has ever dreamed up a trio involving piano, accordion, and oud? It doesn’t seem like it would work; the last thing an oud needs is a harmonic straight-jacket, not to mention the problem of sonic balance. Khomsa (1995) debuts his new companion Francois Couturier, who will play on three more records over the years. It also features the accordion of Richard Galliano, as well as the old ECM Keith Jarrett rhythm section of Palle Danielsson and Jon Christiansen. It kicks off with an strident composition by the accordionist and proceeds to wander across a great range of styles from simple modal themes to folksy ensembles with violin and saxophone. There is more than a little of a sound-track feel here and there, but the most telling numbers are the scaled back oud meditations. Khomsa contains fine pieces but taken as a whole the session has too many failed experiments with instruments out of sorts with one another.
A second effort, Le Pas du Chat Noir (2002) pares down and straightens out the concept, now with accordionist Jean Louis Matinier working beside Couturier. Fittingly, all the titles are in French. Matinier is sensitive to every little shift in the mood, while the pianist effaces himself to a harmonic minimum and finds unprecedented ways to enhance the sonic palette, and shade melodies with cascades of shimmering notes without chordal busyness. It is a major work from the standpoint of composition too. However, Voyage du Sahar (2006) is even better. Now the trio have reached a supreme point of mutual understanding. This recording features to my knowledge some of the finest sounding accordion work on the label. (Matinier is worth checking out on his own terms, especially on a recording Other Worlds Intuition (2007) with Anthony Cox and vibraphonist David Friedman.)
In yet another development, Brahem tries yet another reed player and adds electric bass to join the darbouka/ bendir of Khaled Yassine. The result is seen in The Astounding Eyes of Rita (2009) It is in this reviewer’s opinion his finest work and one of the standout recordings in the ECM catalog. The German Klaus Gesing on bass clarinet and the Swede Bjorn Meyer on bass add a forceful bottom end to the ensemble, as well as lively swing at the middle tempos. There is a flattering congruence between the deeper bass clarinet and the oud. The title track is perfection itself–lyrical, pulsing, veering unexpectedly and swirling with effervescence. The engineering is different too, with the oud closer to the mic, the drums snappier, the low instruments growling darkly but not drowned in resonance.
Anouar Brahem, Blue Maqams
Skipping over a large ensemble recording, Souvenance (2015) on which Brahem the composer takes precedence over the instrumentalist and a well-chosen sampler, Vague (2010) we arrive at the 2017 recording Blue Maqams. Here we have the welcome return of Dave Holland, the first encounter with legendary drummer Jack DeJohnette, and the addition of a piano played by Django Bates. The first problem to solve involves the incongruity of the drummer’s fondness for the cymbals and his mainstream jazz kit styles. In fact, it is initially distracting on the first track. But as the groove deepens, the piece becomes airborne on a delicate and carefully nourished pulse. A moment of pure magic ensues with the entrance of Django Bates piano. As with his former keyboardist, this musician knows how to reconstruct the piano into a source of endless impressionist effects, filigrees of melodies, delicate glissandi—everything but chords. In fact, the rapport of piano, bass and drums is so compelling at times that one forgets about the oud player. On the second track, La Nuit, the oud has taught the piano how to gently rock back and forth on the octave strings. Thereupon a gentle duo broods on a melody, which breaks off into a sigh. Arco bass and shimmering metal from DeJohnette contribute to a dialog which dispenses with overt melodic contours. DeJohnette is superb on the title track, working the toms in conversation with the oud until the theme emerges in a tentative harmonic progression alien to the Brahem idiom.
Bahia recalls the earliest recordings with its bright plucking abetted by gentle vocalise. It doesn’t feel like we have made it to Brazil, but there is a soft zephyr blowing in off of dazzling waters. The mood of uplift inspires the bassist to a fine solo which resolves into a gratifying bass groove. It is a music of smiles, of buoyant optimism. The piano sits out this one, and this allows Brahem occasion to stretch out on a stupendous solo. Bom Dia Rio, a second tune with Brazilian associations, seems more like a nocturnal meditation than a greeting of the day. That is until, Holland lays down one of his all time most stirring bass grooves, with piano and drums swept up in the pulse. The trio sounds like a distillation of all the best ECM piano trios from the top shelf of that genre. Django Bates has his finest moments on a non-linear solo. The band rises upward in a gusty unison preparing the way for concise solos and a reprise. It is a standout moment on the disc.
Persepolis’s Mirage follows, reasserting a more distinctly Arabic Maqam. The piano is left to his own devices trying to figure out the meaning of the piece. An experiment in free improvisation, one thinks. That is until yet another tricky dotted line makes an entry. The final pieces are just as strong with Django Bates asserting even more in creative embellishment. The title ultimate track, Unexpected Outcome evokes an aspect of Brahem’s musicians productive career. On a label that has a well-developed and perhaps constraining aesthetic, Brahem has made not only some of the most compelling recordings but also some of the most surprising. This will require more listening before it can be judged to belong to the finest recordings mentioned here. But for now we will give it the benefit of the doubt.
The ECM Recordings of Anouar Brahem
Barzakh (1990) ****
Conte de Incroyable Amour (1991) *****
Madar (1994) ***
Khomsa (1995) ***
Thimar (1998) ****½
Astrakan Cafe (2000) *****
Le Pas du Chat Noir (2002) ***½
Le Voyage de Sahar(2006) ****
The Astounding Eyes of Rita (2009)*****
Vague (2010) ****
Souvenance (2015) ****
Blue Maqams (2017) *****
—Fritz Balwit
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 26, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
SCARLATTI: Sonatas, Volume 1: 16 Sonatas – Federico Colli, piano – Chandos CHAN 10988, 66:36 (5/4/18) [Distr. by Naxos] ****:
The keyboard sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti (1685-1757) continue to attract acolytes: witness the major project for recording the complete oeuvre of 555 sonatas by Carlo Grante. Chandos now collaborates with the recent Salzburg and Leeds competition winner Federico Colli for his first volume of 16 sonatas, organized—it would seem—by their affects and emotional affinities. Performing on a modern Steinway, the Italian pianist takes a fresh approach from a philosophical angle, by grouping the compositions into chapters in order to reflect the many contrasts of his life and his contradictory personality. In personal liner notes Colli reveals: “I conceived a map of a journey into transcendental thought, beyond the works phenomenological meaning. Each chapter has a title, and the individual sonatas in each chapter refer back to the permeating image of its basic idea.”
Colli opens with a group of for sonatas under the rubric “The Power of Illusion,” of which the first, in elaborate, lengthy D minor, K. 19 (1739), casts a melancholy air in the manner of a staid sarabande. The “illusion” for Colli lies in the music’s “veils” that protect us “from the hostile and bitter aspects of everyday life.” Doubtless, the veils come to us in the form of ornaments and turns, even in sudden liberations of a passing dissonance. The E Major, K. 380—long a favorite of such diverse personalities as Casadesus and Gieseking—went for many years under the label “Cortege,” given its military stance (Andante commodo) and penchant for traveling fanfares. In binary form, the piece vacillates between declamatory aggression and a yearning lyricism. The Sonata in D minor, K. 9 (1739) derives from the set of some 30 Essercizi per gravicembalo published in London. Its soft manner in 6/8 warrants its title “Pastorale.” Colli takes this stately Allegro in slow periods, imparting its trills and quick runs with fined drama. Its middle section could have sufficed for a guitar serenade, though the bass line certainly suits the grand piano. Studied syncopations mark the Sonata in G minor, K. 234, Andante, a somewhat ritualized excursion into sweet sorrow. The dance-like fervor easily anticipates tropes we know from later Iberian composers, Granados and Falla.
Domenico Scarlatti
What Colli calls “Chapter 2: Live Happily! “ takes its cue from Scarlatti’s preface to his 1739 sonatas dedicated to King John V of Portugal. The strong, national-dance character of the first piece, the Sonata in D Major, K. 492, has an almost Haydn energy in its approach to the fandango or bulerias influence of its percussive motion. Colli imbues the convulsive figures with infectious vigor. Colli left hand plays half notes in the Sonata in A Major, K. 322, while the right hand executes a simple melodic texture. Michelangeli favored its combination of folkish periods and inborn galanterie. Colli gives it a lithe, diaphanous grace. The Sonata in F Major, K. 525 earned the name “Scherzo” from Hans von Bulow, who included it in an edition of Scarlatti he produced in 1864. A highly layered, stratified texture, the work gallops quickly and forcefully, with big chords on downbeats, well in anticipation of Beethoven. The Sonata in A Major, K. 39, Presto, unabashedly means to display the keyboardist’s virtuosity. A brilliant toccata, it moves in rushes and glaring arcs, breathless and bold.
Colli’s third group, “The Return to Order,” means to coalesce Scarlatti’s invention with the reign of strict harmony. The opening Sonata in D minor, K. 396, demands sudden changes in tempo. The dotted rhythm Andante soon yields to an aggressive Allegro in constant modulation. The Sonata in G minor, K. 450 was entitled Burlesca by Bulow in 1864. The piece is a potent, percussive dance that Jose Greco doubtless would have punished with the toe of his boot. The Sonata in D Major, K. 430, has a mysterious, dance designation from the composer: Non presto ma a tempo di ballo. The piece finds itself orchestrated in Tommasini’s “The Good-Humored Ladies.” The repeated note has often prompted an allusion to the cuckoo. The Sonata in D minor, K. 1, once more derives from the 1739 Essercizi. Quite contrapuntal in the ‘traditional’ Baroque sense, the piece still carries its own delicate flair.
Colli’s last group garners the epithet “Enchantment and Prayer”. He opens with the B minor Sonata, K. 197, an extended piece, Andante, built on melodic fragments and falling bass figures. Colli invests a decided sense of mystery into the often archaic harmonies. Perhaps even more antiquated in sound, the Sonata in F minor, K. 69 combines lyricism with a relatively free sense of counterpoint. An anomaly among Scarlatti sonatas, that in A Major, K. 208 is marked Adagio e cantabile, and it moves its beguiling melody against a pulsating bass in Neapolitan figures that anticipate moves in K.P.E. Bach’s notion of empfindsamkeit. Another rarity concludes the cycle: the Sonata in D minor, K. 32, which appeared in a 1739 collection made by Thomas Roseingrave to compete with the Essercizi. Marked “Aria,” this brief curio might have served Schumann or Beethoven as a moment of enigmatic beauty.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 26, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
WILLIAM STERNDALE BENNETT: Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Minor, Op. 1; Piano Concerto No. 2 in E-flat Major, Op. 4; Concerto No. 3 in C Minor, Op. 9 (The Romantic Piano Concerto, Volume 71) ‒ BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra / Howard Shelley, piano and conductor ‒ Hyperion CDA68178 (3/2/18) [Distr. by PIAS] 79:31 ****:
The Romantic piano concerto revival, which began even before Hyperion’s groundbreaking series, has reintroduced music lovers to many of the lions of the piano from the first half of the nineteenth century. The following may be a bit reductionist, but these composers can be divided into virtuoso pianist-composers and composer-pianists who applied themselves to genres beyond solo and concerted piano works. The music of many in the first group is pretty negligible in quality. These include Henri Herz and Friedrich Kalkbrenner, and I reluctantly add Henry Litolff, whose scherzo from Concerto Symphonique No. 4 remains one the greatest hits of this era. Litolff is showcased, by the way, in Volumes 14 and 26 of Hyperion’s Romantic Piano Concerto series.
The other group includes composers who wrote in a number of genres, and their music is generating renewed interest as their work is reappraised. This group includes the likes of Ferdinand Ries, Ignaz Moscheles, Carl Czerny, and William Sterndale Bennett’s teacher, Cipriani Potter, all of whose concerti have been featured in the Hyperion Romantic Concerto series. For Potter’s concerti, see the review here. To this list, Bennett (1816–1875) himself can certainly be added. As with his teacher, Bennett started his composing career like the proverbial house a-fire but then, in 1837, turned his attention to teaching, first at the Royal Academy of Music and later Cambridge University. Unlike Cipriani Potter (who virtually abandoned composing after the 1830s), Bennett kept his hand in with an occasional entry to his catalog and then returned to composing in earnest in the 1850s, producing among other works a symphony (1863), which is pretty good, for a musical throwback. It can be sampled, along with other orchestral works, on a Lyrita recording (SRCD.2016).
Bennett wrote five piano concerti. The Fourth (1836) is featured in Volume 43 of the Hyperion series (CDA67595), Howard Shelley performing on that CD as well. Notably, the three concerti on the current CD were all written by Bennett between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, while he was still a student at the Royal Academy. They show an incremental increase in maturity and invention, the last being worth a revival in the concert hall, I’d say. As Jeremy Dibble remarks in his notes to this recording, Bennett’s supposed model was Mozart (whose concerti Bennett’s teacher Potter was largely responsible for introducing in England). But more pronounced, at least in the First Concerto, is the influence of members of the “London Piano School,” including Moscheles, Johann Cramer, and Potter himself. Potter’s influence is even more evident in the next two concerti. The First Concerto is a modestly attractive work, with a well-constructed sonata-allegro first movement and a pretty, if rather vapid, slow movement, on which Bennet would improve in his next two concerti. The titular finale, though, is a letdown, if not a cop-out. It is, strangely enough, a scherzo with a rumbustious minor-key A section followed by a simpering trio that’s pretty much weak tea after the romp of the first section. Jeremy Dibble speculates that Bennett was contemplating a four-movement design but was encouraged to drop the finale, which may have ended up as Bennett’s Op. 2, a Capriccio for solo piano. Hence the unusual, and not very successful, conclusion to the concerto.
William Stendale Bennett
Bennett makes partial amends in the affable Second Concerto. It starts with a very much extended ritornello and proceeds to a more compelling sonata movement, with both sturdier themes and development. (The movement ends, though, with an opera buffa growl from the bass trombone, which mentor Potter used more tastefully in his concerti.) The Adagio represents even more of an improvement on the First: a fantasia with a theme that unfolds like a gentle processional before morphing into a dramatic contrapuntal treatment of the same. This is followed by an attractive section in which the piano weaves a filigree of sound above the orchestra before we return to the soothing tread of the opening. The last movement, marked Vivace giocoso, has a Mendelssohnian dash to it.
For all its increase in sophistication, the Second Concerto is a frothy work. Bennett obviously wanted to show a different side of his nature in the Third Concerto. Here, the influence of Mendelssohn is apparent, especially in the finale marked Allegro agitato. In this movement, Bennett may have taken inspiration from Mendelssohn’s First Piano Concerto, which he was known to admire. Bennett’s finale has the same headlong intensity as the first movement of the Mendelssohn, at least at the opening, where the piano thunders away solo. However, Bennett is more expansive, the second theme injecting an air of repose that sets up a big contrast the composer exploits successfully throughout. The second movement, Romanza, represents another leap forward; Schumann especially praised its dreamy beauty in his review of the Leipzig premiere with Bennett at the piano.
I’ve admired Howard Shelley as pianist and conductor in so many composers of the Romantic era and beyond: Clementi, Hummel, Moscheles, Spohr, Hiller, Gounod—even Balakirev and Lyapunov. Here, he’s just as effective in the work of his countryman, helping us trace the progress of a talented composer as he grows in assurance and throws more and more technical challenges at the pianist, which doesn’t faze Shelley in the least, of course. As always, he conducts from the keyboard, and the fine Scottish orchestra that he’s conducted on more than a few occasions is right with him. Add to that Hyperion’s typically well-balanced sonics, and you have an attractive proposition for followers of this series and for Romantaholics in general.
—Lee Passarella
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 25, 2018 | Streams and Podcasts
This week, The Music Treasury continues its review of composer/conductor/pianist/educator Leonard Bernstein. The show can be heard on KSZU in the Bay Area, from 19:00 – 21:00; it can be heard concurrently on the ‘Net from its host station, kzsu.stanford.edu.
Leonard Bernstein, Part 2
Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990) would have celebrated his 100th birthday, Saturday, August 25. This broadcast of The Music Treasury features more performances from the youthful Leonard Bernstein, including his debut with the Philharmonic-Symphony of New York, 14 November 1943. A book devoted to the youth of Leonard Bernstein, Music Was It, gives a summary of Bernstein’s initial artistic sensibility:
“Life without music is unthinkable.”—Leonard Bernstein, Findings
When Lenny was two years old, his mother found that the only way to soothe her crying son was to turn on the Victrola. When his aunt passed on her piano to Lenny’s parents, the boy demanded lessons. When Lenny went to school, he had the most fun during “singing hours.”
But Lenny’s love of music was met with opposition from the start. Lenny’s father, a successful businessman, wanted Lenny to follow in his footsteps. Additionally, the classical music world of the 1930s and 1940s was dominated by Europeans—no American Jewish kid had a serious chance to make a name for himself in this field.
Beginning with Lenny’s childhood in Boston and ending with his triumphant conducting debut at Carnegie Hall with the New York Philharmonic when he was just twenty-five, Music Was It draws readers into the energetic, passionate, challenging, music-filled life of young Leonard Bernstein.
Archival photographs, mostly from the Leonard Bernstein Collection at the Library of Congress, illustrate this fascinating biography, which also includes a foreword by Bernstein’s daughter Jamie. Extensive back matter includes biographies of important people in Bernstein’s life, as well as a discography of his music.
Rozsa: Theme, Variations, and Finale, Op. 13a
Schulman: Hatikvah
Gillis: Moto Perpetuo
Carpenter: Sea Drift
Fine: Serious Song
Shostakovich: Symphony No. 7 in C Major, Op. 60 “Leningrad”: Adagio
Piston: Concerto for Orchestra
Schumann: Manfred Overture, Op. 115
Schumann: Symphony No. 2 in C Major, Op. 61
Leonard Bernstein
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 23, 2018 | SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
Kjell Tore Innervik: Utopias: Radical Interpretations of Iconic Musical Works for Percussion : Xenakis: Psappha. Morton Feldman: The King of Denmark. Kjell Tore Innervik, percussion – 2L 2L-141-SABD (SACD/CD, BD, downloads: DXD, DSD256, MQA). (6/15/2018).. TT: 46:04 ****:
My oh my, what a recording this is. On this 2 disc set Kjell Tore Innervik performs Morton Feldman’s ‘The King of Denmark’ and Iannis Xenakis’s ‘Psappha’, exploring the intimate performing space with large format recording techniques, providing the listener with truly immersive audio. The Xenakis was recorded twice: once from the perspective of an intimate listener, and a second time literally ‘over-head’, giving a first-persona perspective. The difference not only in microphone technique but also in the performer’s state of mind and how he projects his playing has a profound impact on the listening experience. Radical Interpretations of Iconic Musical Works for Percussion (2013-2017) was an interdisciplinary artistic research project hosted at the Norwegian Academy of Music in collaboration with the Oslo Academy of the Arts, the Oslo School of Architecture and Design, Westerdals Oslo ACT and 2L through the Norwegian Artistic Research Programme.
These works will be familiar to percussion mavens, but I can tell you they have never been recorded like this. The dynamic range is astounding, and when I set up any system for the early parts of these works, I found that later the volume ramped up to extremely lifelike levels. It was startling.
As I’ve said in the past, the 2L label finds worthwhile music and then records them in the finest versions you are likely to hear.
As always, there are several formats available on the Blu-ray disc, including Pure Audio Blu-ray: STEREO 192kHz/24bit, 5.1 SURROUND 192kHz/24bit, 7.1.4 Auro-3D 96kHz and 7.1.4 Dolby Atmos 48kHz. The Blu-ray disc also contains downloadable files for use on portable and other devices like music servers. There is a Hi-resoluition MQA mix, and MP3 files. Also included is a multi-channel SACD disc that can play on a regular CD player as well.
It’s hard to overstate how excellent and compelling this music is. I listened on my Magnapan speakers in the front, with high quality Aperion speakers in the rear in a 7.1 configuration. I also listened in 2 channel on high quality headphones and the results are just as striking.
Kudos to 2L for bringing this music in such high quality with equal musicianship.
Highly Recommended
—Mel Martin
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 22, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews
WAGNER: Rienzi – Overture; Der fliegende Hollaender – Overture; Tannhauser – Overture; Lohengrin – Prelude; Lohengrin: Act III Prelude; Die Meistersinger von Nurenberg – Prelude to Act III; Parsifal – Prelude – Southwest-Radio Orchestra Baden-Baden/Hans Rosbaud – SWR Classics 19036CD, 72:01 (5/12/17) [Distr. by Naxos] ****:
SWR Classics initiated their revival of the conductor Hans Rosbaud (1895-1962) recorded legacy with this all-Wagner concert, 1955-1959, which allows us to savor his pointed, linear style in the very series of works that provided the template for German music-drama. Wagner claimed to have extended the course of the opera overture from both Weber and Beethoven, presenting “the whole drama in a more deeply moving way than following the separate acts does. Thus, the prelude is not simply an overture but in itself the most powerful drama.” The 1842 Overture to Rienzi (rec. 12/28/55) marks the only “developmental” study by Wagner in this series. Its essentially lyric, Neapolitan approach makes much of “Rienzi’s prayer” and evolves into a potent march that carries a rousing triumph of the notions of duty and romantic love, even in the face of treachery.
Richard Wagner
The Flying Dutchman Overture (rec. 12/27/55) provides a good case in point: based on a traditional, Germanic folk tale, the music avoided the turgid machinations of the (Italianate) Rienzi plot that occupied Wagner at virtually the same time. A sea voyage through Norway’s reefs provided much of the impetus for the “program” of the music for the Dutchman: a potent, stentorian D minor urges the listener into the punishing seas, complementing in Nature the torments of the cursed Dutchman, who seeks redemption through love. The driven, arched and clear phrases Rosbaud elicits tempt me to label him “the German Toscanini,” given the poignancy of his literalist approach. The voluptuously flexible reading of the Tannhauser Overture (2/6/59) conveys a seamless, linear approach similar in style to what we hear in Sawallisch and Schmidt-Isserstedt, yet the patina retains a warmth that belies its sobriety. The wind section—and so, too, the violin solo—relishes the flourishes and curlicues in the musical line, while the strings sweep upward with the eroticism of the Venusberg. If the string work does not quite excel as Klemperer’s strings of the Philharmonia Orchestra, the trumpet works equals anything in Karajan.
Few compositions project an ethereal luster as vividly as the 1850 Prelude to Lohengrin, a musical embodiment of the Holy Grail as it proves immanent for our spiritual life. The recording (3/11/57) by the Südwestfunk Orchester masterfully tempers the graduated crescendo as transparently as the classic recording by the Boston Symphony strings under Koussevitzky. The radiance of the angelic host increases, only to explode of its own rapture. The Act III Prelude (rec. 6/26/59) ripples and quakes in anticipation of the wedding music for Elsa and Lohengrin, blazing brass against animated triplet figures.
Wagner set his 1868 Die Meistersinger in 16th Century Nuremberg, the free imperial city that served as a touchstone for Renaissance values. The opera proceeds without recourse to myth or fable, representing the various guilds and master craftsman who established rules and conventions for artistic endeavor. The Act III Prelude (3/11/57) offers a processional, solemn in character, much closer in spirit to the “consolations” of music that Schopenhauer celebrates in his otherwise pessimistic philosophy, which mourns the vanity of “apparent” achievement.
Rosbaud’s survey concludes with the Parsifal Prelude to Act I (10/25/57), whose optimum performance exists in my own mind in a realization by Hans Knappertsbusch. The 1890 music-drama “concedes” to Christianity and the Holy Grail the notion of redemption through faith, utilizing a series of processional music—concentrated thematically into the first six measures—interrupted by six silences. The musical, as well as spiritual, ambiguity lies in the tension between A-flat Major and C minor. The Baden-Baden brass inject a sense of force and awe into the divine mystery and its expression via the so-called “Dresden Amen.” In the more radiant passages, the music graduates upward into G-flat Major and D Major, but the rhythms proves disturbed, and the interval of the falling fifth—so dear to Bruckner—suggests the guilt harbored by Amfortas. And it exactly on this note of uncertainty that Robaud’s reading concludes.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 22, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews
NPO Trio – Live at the Stone – Chant Records, 64:53 [3/15/18] ****:
(Jean-Michel Pilc – piano; Meg Okura – violin, electric violin; Sam Newsome – soprano saxophone)
There’s an opening moment on the NPO Trio’s 64-minute record, Live at the Stone, when it sounds like a classical trio is warming up. That notion is quickly dispelled as pianist Jean-Michel Pilc; violinist Meg Okura (who also adds electric violin); and soprano saxophonist Sam Newsome begin improvising through a 38-minute, six-part suite which pulls influences from several musical genres, including from blues to free jazz, Romantic classicism to atonal dissonance, and Yiddish and Japanese melodies. Newsome and Pilc have performed with Okura’s Pan-Asian Chamber Jazz Ensemble. Newsome and Pilc have also worked together on the 2017 duo project Magic Circle. Due to considerable collective involvement, the trio shows an inherent musical connection which provides unity and convergence over the fully-improvised, hour-long live performance taped at The Stone in East Village, New York on April 3, 2016.
Although the structure of the six-part suite which launches the CD is split into separate tracks for the album, this is one, continuous work which should be heard from start to end. The melody recurrently repeated during the first six cuts is “Oyfn Pripetchik,” [English: “On the Hearth”] a famous Yiddish song by folk poet and composer Mark Warshawsky (1848-1907). Warshawsky’s song concerns a rabbi instructing his children about the importance of education and perseverance and references exodus as a remembrance of ancestral sacrifices which helped afford contemporary freedoms. Okura explains she is emotionally linked to Yiddish melodies, which are typically sad and happy at the same time, characteristically due to a minor melody with major chords. She states it is akin to a Japanese expression of happy/sad. Okura admits, “…sadness is absolutely necessary for me to experience true happiness in the future. Every time I hear Jewish songs, it reminds me of my childhood.” The six parts—titled “A Four Forty,” “Bells, Whistles and Sirens,” “Oyfn Pripetchik-ish,” “Travels” “Exodus and Emancipation” and “Pleading”— form a sometimes-precarious equilibrium twixt accord and disorder, consistently blending harmonic and melodic consensus with a feeling of the musical intersections nearing a breaking point. This symmetry and asymmetry generates an always-interesting tension heightened by the trio’s movement from avant-garde to classical, and from Yiddish to modern jazz. While listening to a 38-minute suite may seem daunting, it is not. There is often an affecting and lyrical straightforwardness which grounds the overall presentation, which offsets the various directions Pilc, Newsome and Okura travel during the suite’s other sections.
Live at the Stone concludes with two other improvised selections. The frequently discordant, seven-minute “Unkind Gestures” is based on a series of notes played as a run, borrowed from John Coltrane’s 1960 composition, “Giant Steps.” The threesome utilizes Coltrane’s notes without regard to the original chord changes or rhythm. There is an idiosyncratic interaction between Okura’s acoustic violin, Newsome’s soaring soprano sax and Pilc’s skittering piano chords and notes. Thus, the result is something wholly dissimilar to Coltrane. Yiddish and Japanese music coalesce on the 19-minute closer, “Yiddish Mama No Tsuki.” This piece sprang from two analogous melodies from two very different cultures: Jewish and Japanese. “My Yiddish Mama” is a 1920s vaudeville tune associated with Sophie Tucker. “Kojo No Tsuki,” [English: “The Moon over the Ruined Castle”] is from Japanese pianist and composer Rentarō Taki, who wrote the composition as a music lesson song without instrumental accompaniment in 1901. The song was included in a songbook for junior high school students. “Yiddish Mama No Tsuki” commences with Okura supplying a virtuosic violin solo. Pilc then enters and about four minutes in, the arrangement develops a light tango impression, as if the three musicians sympathetically decided to dip into Ástor Piazzolla’s oeuvre. The lengthy “Yiddish Mama No Tsuki” then shifts into sequences of group improvisation and over the extended course assumes a swinging sensibility which fuses modern and older jazz styles.
TrackList:
A Four Forty
Bells, Whistles and Sirens
Oyfn Pripetchik-ish
Travels
Exodus and Emancipation
Pleading
Unkind Gestures
Yiddish Mama No Tsuki
—Doug Simpson
Link to NPO Ensemble
Meg Okura and the NPO Ensemble
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 20, 2018 | Classical Reissue Reviews
Sir Thomas Beecham: Royal Philharmonic Orchestra Live in the Royal Festival Hall, 1954-1959 = HAYDN: Symphony No. 99 in E-flat Major; Symphony No. 101 in D Major “The Clock”; BOCCHERINI: Sinfonia in D Major, Op. 43; MENDELSSOHN: Overture to A Midsummer Night’s Dream; MOZART: Symphony No. 36 in C Major, K. 425 “Linz”; Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major, K. 543; BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 36; BRAHMS: Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73; WAGNER: Overture to “The Flying Dutchman”; LISZT: Eine Faust-Symphonie – Alexander Young, tenor/ Beecham Choral Society/ Royal Philharmonic Orchestra/ Sir Thomas Beecham – ICA Classics ICAC 5148 (4 CDs) 61:50; 62:26; 70:31; 79:50 (4/6/18) [Distr. by Naxos] ****:
Collectors of the “inimitable” Sir Thomas Beecham will keenly seek this marvelous set, culled from the Richard Itter archive, since the majority of performances have their first instance in the CD format. Only the Haydn “Clock” Symphony (25 October 1959) and the Liszt Faust-Symphony (14 November 1956) have had prior CD release. And given the clarity and richness of the reissued sound, the performances retain what commentator David Patmore notes as their “freshness” and “mercurial” character. Those extant, live performances of the exact works, even a few days later, vary in tempo, timbre, and balance.
Having first come to the Liszt 1857 Eine Faust-Symphonie by way of Beecham’s classic recording for Capitol Records, it seemed appropriate to audition this 1956 performance first, along with its Wagner Overture to “The Flying Dutchman” (22 November 1954). The Wagner reminds us how potently Beecham the music of Wagner, that he, Albert Coates, and Adrian Boult dominated in Wagner interpretation for dynamism and linear focus. True, when it comes to the Liszt, I personally wish that Dimitri Mitropoulos had done more than recorded excerpts of the last movement for video preservation. Beecham, however, combines clarity and urgency, given the monumentality of Liszt’s ambitions, having created a “twelve-tone” theme for Faust and using its inversions as a means of expressing Mephistopheles. Beecham includes the Chorus mysticus from Faust, Part II, reminding us that “everything transitory is merely a simile,” and that “the eternal feminine leads us higher.” The resonance between Young’s tenor, the male chorus, and the RPO harp sounds delicious! The lyrical “Gretchen” movement more than provides fodder for Schoenberg’s sextet Verklaerte Nacht.
Contemporary scholars remain quick to remind us that the Haydn editions Beecham employs have become suspect or spurious, but few conductors impart both a playful and dramatic glow to Haydn’s music with such elan. The 1794 Symphony No. 99 in E-flat Major (16 September 1954) immediately highlights the composer’s first use of the clarinets for his musical colors. Their low register soon combines with strings and bassoon to give us an audacious harmonic mix, one that loves to exploit mediant harmonies. The Vivace is all tangy thunder, often weeping us up in tuttis in exotic keys. The RPO oboe and assisting winds deserve the berries. This kind of wind-section enchantment extends into the second movement Andante, in G Major, in which flutes, oboes, and bassoon invite us to savor Haydn’s colors as only Beecham might realize them. By movement’s end, the lyrical theme assumes a militant character at its climax. The otherwise “polite” Menuetto has become equally aggressive, its central laendler emergent in C Major. Haydn’s facile capacity to “pulverize” a melody for rhythmic and melodic development—not to mention his keen sense of counterpoint—flows forth in the Finale: Vivace, where the individual instruments indulge themselves in the manner of a Vivaldi symphonic “concerto.”
The other Haydn symphonic entry of 1794, Symphony No. 101 in D Major “The Clock” (25 October 1959) comes near the end of Beecham’s tenure with the RPO. In its own day, the work was called “delicious and inexhaustible” by contemporary critics. The level of instrumental virtuosity from Haydn seems irrepressible, and the tell-tale second movement, with its “tick-tock” metrics, has defined the splendid piece for posterity. The Menuetto: Allegretto movement, too, has more often than not been seen adumbrating the music in Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony. Beecham gives the first movement the whiplash effect, thundering through its Presto with alert and infectious verve. The RPO winds, but of course, complement the string section with wonderful color variants on the swaying, bemused clock tune. And the audience endures the big pause without even a cough! Felicity of ensemble marks the latter two movements of The Clock, with the Menuetto’s enjoying a decisive sense of pulse—the RPO flute in suave form for the Trio—and ultimately a debonair sense of closure. Beecham hustles through the Finale: Vivace, but not with any loss of the voluptuous counterpoints Haydn interjects in the sonata-rondo. The Boccherini Overture in D (23 August 1956) first came to my attention via a CBS LP (ML 5059) with Beecham. Like Mozart’s Sinfonia to Lucio Silla, this 1797 charmer in three sections will exploit Beecham’s wind section, while its melodic gifts in the Italian style will grant the strings and horns their heyday.
When it comes to the symphonies of Beethoven, recorded posterity has not given us Beecham in the First or Fifth symphonies. But Beecham held great affection for the 1802 D Major Symphony (14 November 1956) and especially its broad Larghetto movement, which Berlioz extolled as among Beethoven’s greatest achievements. An almost breathless exultation suffuses the opening Adagio molto—Allegro con brio, a first thrust followed by a splendid example of orchestral discipline and homogeneity of sound. The sheer momentum of the playing consigns the work easily to Beethoven’s “second” period of creative development, for the optimistic dynamism belies much that might be construed as “classical.” The gracious, simple song that comprises the Larghetto unfolds in easy, plastic periods, sumptuous as they are refined. Berlioz once compared the various instrumental fragments that make up the rollicking Scherzo to Oberon’s fairies, each contributing to “a thousand nuances.” The Allegro molto finale might constitute a second scherzo movement, as Beecham elicits a sinewy ardor from the duple meter figures, with individual winds rising in the course of a freewheeling melody peppered by fiery sforzati.
The music of Johannes Brahms proves relatively elusive in the Beecham discography, with references to the D Major Symphony, the Violin Concerto, the Song of Destiny, and non-commercial issues of a Brahms Third and a slightly edited Haydn Variations, the latter two once issued by the defunct Sir Thomas Beecham Society. The Brahms Second given here (4 November 1959) from a studio performance achieves an autumnal, creamy sonority—savor those RPO cellos—that we might attribute to Bruno Walter. Beecham seems intent to allow the music’s pastoral effects their full suasion, and even those passing, fugal shadows in Brahms maintain a devotional valediction. The Adagio non troppo proceeds with hymnal dignity, even a grand majesty in its latter pages. Beecham takes a particularly leisurely view of the outside sections of the Allegretto movement, an intermezzo whose animated middle section allows Beecham’s forces a momentary explosion of spirit. While conductor Artur Rodzinski insisted that the Second Symphony expressed tragic feelings, Beecham remains convinced that joy alone reigns here. Despite various pulls and tugs and false starts, the music eventually permits the second theme to transcend its haunted colors and blaze forth in ecstatic pageantry. The upward sweep of Beecham’s brass and tympanic peroration quite catches us in its titanic grip.
Mozart and Mendelssohn appropriately share Disc 2, opening with the ever-felicitous 1826 Mendelssohn Overture to a Midsummer Night’s Dream (14 November 1956) that quickly scampers from fairy dust into an explosion of festive mirth. The diaphanous instrumental skein never loses its brilliant sheen, and the various comic effects enjoy a lusty charm borne of long musical experience. The 1783 Mozart Linz Symphony came to me via Beecham’s 1930s recording with the London Philharmonic Orchestra on 78 rpm. We have here a performance from Royal Festival Hall (15 December 1954), capturing the grandeur and solemnity of the music in fiercely driven figures. The first of Mozart’s symphonies to use Haydn’s slow introduction mode, here in a minor mode that starts with two whole notes and proceeds in short, chromatic scales. The Allegro spiritoso section begins with a 17-measure statement to whose length Mozart adds or subtracts at will, in a kind of improvisatory fashion. The balance between the music’s declamations an its lyrical oratory evolves in muscular gestures from Beecham, who hustles the movement with virtuoso deftness. Beecham grants an austere beauty to the slow movement, Andante con moto, a sicliana in 6/8 that makes use of festive trumpets and drums. The Menuetto—especially as played by the LPO on my old 78s—has always struck me as an awkwardly lumbering dance rhythm, likely rustic in the manner of Haydn. Little of Haydn, however, occupies the plastic last movement Finale: Presto, where blistering chromatic harmony and lightning rocket figures well extend Mozart’s “classical” sensibility into the realm of Romanticism.
Beecham delivers the Mozart Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major again from Royal Festival Hall (7 April 1954), a performance of stern authority, given the usually “mercurial” character of Beecham’s singular personality. The slow introduction and its subsequent brass fanfares lack the oboe, so the clarinet colors the textures. Something of Beecham’s dedication to the older performance sensibility inhabits his slides in the melodic line. But the vigor of execution testifies to the fine discipline of his RPO, and their string line has Mozart’s singing luxuriously. At the coda, the audience bites its collective lip not to burst into applause. The Andante con moto has a quizzical character, gently wandering in a bucolic haze that occasionally sees a darkened sky. The RPO bass fiddles sound especially sonorous. The Austrian spirit dominates the third movement Menuetto: Allegro—Trio, which has a clarinet-led laendler as the basis of the Trio section. While my favorite realization of the Menuetto belongs to Furtwaengler, this Beecham rendition injects plenty of character. The Finale: Allegro evolves virtually mono-thematically, given a melody whose sole purpose means to endure and outlast any number of restraints. Beecham’s deft but artful phrasing and tempo keep us enthralled with the level of execution by performer as well composer, whose dire economic straits did not prevent his marshaling a cosmic gift for his musical craft.
–Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 20, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
MARC-ANTOINE CHARPENTIER: La Descente d’Orphée aux Enfers ‒ Ensemble Correspondances / Sébastien Daucé [Full performing artist below] ‒ Harmonia mundi HMM 902279, 54:52 (8/25/17) [Distr. by PIAS] ****1/2:
Most music lovers, even those who gravitate to the French baroque, are probably unfamiliar with Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s stage works. But then the rehabilitation of Charpentier’s image dates only to the 1950s, when a recording of the composer’s now-famous Te Deum H146 was an instant hit, its fame compounded when the stirring prelude was adopted as the signature theme by the European Broadcasting Union. In fact, the Te Deum and the lyrical Messe de Minuit pour Noël may be two of the baroque’s greatest musical hits, but they’re about all that many lovers of the baroque hear from Marc-Antoine Charpentier. I know and admire a handful of others of his many sacred works; his stage works were a closed book to me as well.
I’m not excusing myself, but the oversight is understandable. Charpentier worked at a time when Lully dominated French opera and jealously guarded his position at the top of the musical pecking order. Following the older composer’s death, Charpentier finally mounted an opera for Lully’s Académie Royale de Musique. Alas, the tragédie en musique Medée, did not please the critics, and the opera remained his only contribution to the venue and genre that were Lully’s near-exclusive domain.
However, Charpentier contributed much to musical theater in France. When Molière had a falling out with Lully, Charpentier became the playwright’s composer of choice, supplying incidental music for such classics as The Imaginary Invalid. His other important contribution to musical theater in France was a series of divertissements, or chamber operas, most of which were composed for the Duchess of Guise, the last in a line of powerful French nobles. Charpentier was in the Duchess’s employ for twenty years, creating a goodly number of pastorales and classical tragedies, including two on the myth of Actaeon and Diana. His last chamber opera written for the Duchess was La Descente de Orphée en Enfers.
If you’re familiar with the tale of Orpheus as recounted by Ovid, you know the story doesn’t have a happy ending. Orpheus loses his wife Eurydice to the Underworld; Pluto lets him lead her back to terra firma but only if he refrains from looking back at her as the pass upward; he does, and he loses her again. As opera fans know, Gluck, in his version of the Orpheus myth, tacks a happy ending onto the sad tale: Orfeo decides to kill himself so he can join Eurydice in Hades, but Amore stops him. In tribute to Orfeo’s steadfastness, Amore restores Eurydice to her husband. Time for a celebratory ballet! The plotting of Charpentier’s version is different from either. After the first act, we don’t see Eurydice again. The second act is all about Orphée’s winning the hearts of the denizens of Hades. As in other versions of the tale, Orphée (with the advocacy of Proserpine, queen of the Underworld), manages to soften Pluto’s heart and win his wife’s release. But instead of the journey back to earth, La Descente ends with paeans to Orphée’s artistry from a chorus of blessed spirits, damned souls, furies, and—for an extra dash of local color—Ixion, Tantalus, and Tityus, famous for their hellish punishments (Ixion strapped to a fiery wheel, Tantalus always in reach of food and drink he can’t enjoy).
It’s possible that Charpentier’s work is incomplete or that the final act has been lost, but the current ending sounds so definitively final that probably an alternative interpretation correct. Thomas Leconte, in his notes to this recording, states it eloquently: “Charpentier’s Orpheus…embodies the full creative force that the power of love can elicit, and finally, in a humanistic ideal, also represents the perfection that the human soul can attain through art.” Still, the end of the opera doesn’t fully satisfy. In place of the expected (or in Gluck’s case, unexpected) turn of events, we’re left with a feeling of wistful, only semi-blissful stasis, Hades’ inmates sorry to see Orphée leave, Orphée himself mum the entire last scene, awaiting an unknown fate.
Scored for a modest chorus (composed of the soloists) and orchestra of strings and recorders, the work makes a gentle yet commanding statement about its subject matter. While Gluck’s portrayal of the Furies with their implacable shouts of “No!” is powerfully dramatic, Charpentier’s vision of Hades is more sedate, as one might expect. Yet the composer is almost as effective in the scene where Orphée wins over his adversaries; Robert’s Getchell as Orphée is especially compelling here. The first act descends quickly from joy to dolor, and again Charpentier marks the trajectory effectively: the death of Eurydice is affecting, even if the entry of the heart-broken shepherds (Entrée de Nymphes et de Bergers désespérés) is an incongruous hustle and bustle that doesn’t sound much like despair. This and the other purely instrumental numbers are unfailingly charming, though, colored by two bubbling soprano recorders. Playing original instruments, Ensemble Correspondances under Sebastien Daucé’s direction provides perfectly gauged accompaniments to the expert singing.
La Descente was not composed as a star vehicle but as an ensemble piece, tailored to the singers in the Duchess’s employ, giving all of them a chance to shine in solos and ensembles. The finest compliment I can give the liquid-voiced singers of Ensemble Correspondances is that each delivers their solo numbers as primus inter pares, while the ensembles are sung with a sensitive unanimity. Charpentier’s La Descente de Orphée en Enfers is a lovely work, lovingly presented here, and that includes the appropriately intimate recording. Even the cleverly conceived cover photo is perfect. Now, Ensemble Correspondances, what does Charpentier have to say about Actaeon and Diana?
—Lee Passarella
Performing Artists:
Robert Getchell , haute-contre (Orphée) / Caroline Weynants, dessus (Eurydice) / Violaine Le Chenadec, dessus (Daphné) / Caroline Dangin-Bardot, dessus (Œnone) / Caroline Arnaud, dessus and Lucile Richardot, bas-dessus (Aréthuse / Proserpine) / Stephen Collardelle, haute-contre (Ixion) / Davy Cornillot, taille (Tantale) / Etienne Bazola, basse-taille (Apollon, Titye) / Nicolas Brooymans, basse (Pluton) /
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 20, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews, SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
Minor Major – Oslo String Quartet – Beethoven: String Quartet No. 11 in F minor Op. 95 ‘Serioso’, Schubert: String Quartet No. 15 in G Major, D887 2L Cat # 2L135SABD (10/6/17) 2 disc Blu ray audio and SACD – ****:
2L can always be counted on for exceptional audiophile pleasing fidelity, and they always seem to get the music right in terms of performance and selection.
The disc is an interesting pairing of Schubert’s last string quartet, with one of Beethoven’s shortest works in that idiom.
The performances are faultless and passionate. The sound, as always, it seems, from 2L is exceptional.
2L provides 2 discs, an SACD multichannel 5.1 mix, along with a compatible CD later. The Blu-ray comes in several formats, 2.0 LPCM 192/24, 5.1 DTS HDMA 192/24, 9.1 Auro-3D , and 9.1 Dolby Atmos. I listened to the 9.1 channel Atmos mix, although my equipment collapses the format to 7.1. 2L also provides a downloadable MP3 and Hi-resolution version which can be taken off the Blu-ray disc if you have the proper equipment to retrieve it. Also on offer are MQA versions of the audio, touted by some as the ‘next big thing’ in audio, and by others as a yawn. So far, my ears haven’t been impressed by MQA, but it’s a debate for another venue.
The Atmos mix is a very satisfying sound, utterly realistic, with the rear channels providing ambiance cues from the recording site, the Jar Church in Norway. I also listened to the 2 channel mix on high quality headphones and found the experience realistic as well, and even in 2 channel, the sound of the church was very well preserved.
2L is to be applauded both for the quality of this release, but also the multitude of options provided for listening. Everything from 2 channel, 5.1, and all the way to 9.1, this is a disc that will please audiophiles, regardless of your equipment setup.
Highly recommended
—Mel Martin
Link:
Oslo Quartet, Minor-Major, Works by Beethoven, Schubert.
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 18, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews
Roger Davidson Quartet featuring Hendrik Meurkens – Music From The Heart – Soundbrush Records SR1039 55:51***:
( Roger Davidson – piano; Hendrik Meurkens – vibraphone, harmonica; Eduardo Belo – bass; Adriano Santos – drums)
Over the years Brazilian music whether the samba or boss nova, seems to have an inextricable connection to love either lost, found or unrequited. In this release Music From The Heart by the Roger Davidson Quartet deals with this subject in a heartfelt thematic manner.
While not a bold face name within the jazz world, Roger Davidson is a thoughtful pianist who plays with sensitivity, but stays within the four corners of the canvass. His principal partner on this session is Hendrik Meurkens, who plays harmonica and vibraphone, as well as having an abiding attachment to Brazilian music.
This album’s overarching love theme is for Davidson’s wife Nilcelia, whom he married in 2014, is symbolized in the opening track “My Love Is Only For You”. This is a bouncy samba, punctuated by Davidson’s lively and surging piano. Meurkens’ harmonica dives and swoops around the theme.
All compositions on this release are by Davidson and he carries the explicit “love” message in three other sequential compositions; “Um Amor, Um Ambraço” ( One Love, One Embrace), “ I Will Always Love You” and “Unconditional Love”. The first and the third of these numbers are quartet interpretations with Meurkens harmonica providing the quiet beauty of the melodies, with a nicely done arco bass introduction by Eduardo Belo on the first one. The middle offering is a solo piano effort by Davidson fashioned with animated conviction.
The album closer is “Samba De Alegria” which is a rousing Carnaval influenced number. The opening notes are very reminiscent of opening bars to Samba De Orfeu which is prominently featured in the film Black Orpheus. In any event the band digs into the samba with enthusiasm, as drummer Adriano Santos propels the group along in true Brazilian style.
TrackList: My Love Is Only You; Celia; Comment Je T’Aime; The Way You Move My Heart; Onde Esta Sua Alma?; A Primavera; O Mico; Fico Feliz; Guardian Angel; Um Amor, Um Abraço; I Will Always Love You; Unconditional Love; Celebraçao; Saudades; Samba De Alegeria
—Pierre Giroux
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 18, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
Music@Menlo Live 2017, The Glorious Violin: Music by FARINA, UCCELLINI, VITALI, LOCATELLI, TARTINI, CORELLI, VIVALDI, VIOTTI, HAYDN, KREUTZER, MOZART, BACH, SPOHR, DAVID, MENDELSSOHN, SCHUMANN, JOACHIM, BRAHMS, BEETHOVEN, DEBUSSY, BORODIN, LECLAIR, YSAYE, FRANCK, FAURE, RESPIGHI, KREISLER, MARTINU, CORIGLIANO, DOHNANYI, SHOSTAKOVICH and ENESCU – 8 Disc Boxed Set, musicatmenlo.org/live *****:
(List of Performing Artists follows review.)
The establishment of a major chamber music festival in the San Francisco Bay area in the midst of the 2002 dot.com meltdown was an entrepreneurial miracle that has been sustained for eighteen seasons. The 2017 season was representative of the many events that chamber music lovers can experience: 17 professional concerts; four Encounter presentations (two hour multi-media presentations by speakers and musicians); master classes; and Café Conversations. There is also a Chamber Music Institute, a rigorous student program for auditioned string players and pianists from ages 9 to 29 that offer a myriad of free performances for audiences. I have been to many of these events in the past eighteen years and can attest to the high performance levels and the joy of being in a community of musicians and educators for three exciting weeks.
The eight discs in this set document live performances that examine the unfolding of music through the lens of the instrument whose makers, players and composers shaped the very evolution of music – The Glorious Violin. The first disc is string music (on modern instruments) from the generation before Bach. In addition to relative unknowns as Farina, Uccellini and Vitali, there is Tartini’s Devil’s Trill sonata Corelli’s well known Christmas Concerto. All these works have a pronounced lyricism, but their adventurous harmonics and dissonances make them sound quite modern. In the Tartini, Adam Barnett-Hart’s tart and vibrant violin playing provides a sound that gives credence to the composer’s dream of giving his violin the devil who heard him “play a sonata so miraculous and beautiful…that it exceeded all flights of imagination.” The Christmas Concerto sizzles with nimble energy that’s contrasted by episodes of warm lyricism.
On Disc 2 Vivaldi’s Concerto in D major for Two Violins, Two Cellos and Strings is a sparkling example of the virtuosity, drama and heartfelt melody that made him so admired by Bach. Violinist Soovin Kim coaxes emotion out of the virtuosic and pedagogical three and a half minute Etude No. 22 of Rudolphe Kreutzer. Arnaud Sussmann is featured on many works in this set and his performance of the Mozart Sonata K. 526 demonstrates a fervent and polished tone that is just flat out beautiful. Bach’s Double Violin Concerto, BWV 1043 fizzes with delight.
Disc 3’s highlight is the little known early Piano Quartet No. 3 of Felix Mendelssohn, composed at age 15, only nine months before the his well-known Octet. It’s full of melodic invention and drama, foreshadowing mid-period Beethoven. Pianist Juho Pohjonen is terrific. Disc 4 represents the height of German Romanticism with works by Schumann and Brahms. The Horn Trio, op. 40 of Brahms receives a performance that’s long on melody, but slow tempos eschews some of its drama. Radovan Vlatkovic’s horn playing is beautiful and clearly articulated.
Disc 5 celebrates the rich national diversity of the nineteenth century violin repertoire. Beethoven’s lovely early String Quintet, Op. 29 is performed with humor, joyful swagger and sunny drama. Borodin’s Second String Quartet, receives a performance that illuminates the composer’s love for his wife. The Scherzo becomes an elegant dance and the romantic Nocturne becomes an effusive love paean. It’s the best performance of this quartet I’ve ever heard. Disc 6 focuses on the development of 18th and 19th century French string music. Music of Leclair, and the famous virtuoso Ysaye are followed by a sensitive performance by violinist Arnaud Sussmann of Franck’s A Major Violin Sonata. Pianist Wu Han shines in the heartbreaking Adagio of Faure’s Piano Quartet No. 1.
Disc 7 offers examples of how the violin virtuosi of the early 20th century transformed the instrument into the “Age of Expression.” Violinist Fritz Kreisler’s String Quartet of 1919 was a revelation. This melancholy, nostalgic tribute to Vienna before World War I is much deeper than the syrupy-sweet bon bons that he composed for himself as a world famous violin soloist. Nicholas Canellakis’ rich, deep cello is a standout in a memorable performance. Paul Huang’s expressive playing fulfills the melodic invention of Respighi’s rarely heard Violin Sonata of 1917. The limpid and sensitive Andante makes this a discovery worth hearing.
Disc 8 is a survey of violin playing in the 20th century in many different countries. Martinu’s Duo No. 1 for Violin and Cello (1927) is an exercise in blending of the two instruments and a spirited rondo pregnant with folk melodies. American John Corigliano’s eight minute Red Violin Caprices are stylistic variations on his troubadorian theme composed for Francois Girard’s movie of the same name. Bella Hristova is the brilliant soloist who deftly traverses the Baroque, Gypsy and Romantic styles of the variations. In Shostakovich’s student Prelude and Scherzo for String Octet, Op. 11, the composer begins to explore the melancholy of later works. The Scherzo is the first of many wild and dissonant orchestral and quartet movements.
The most intriguing and neglected masterpiece in the plethora of chamber music on this disc is Enescu’s String Octet, op. 7 (1900). Georges Enescu (1881-1955) is the father of modern Romanian music—both as a composer and one of the great violinists of the 20th century. Known for his two Romanian Rhapsodies, the Octet deserves more exposure as one of his small body of 33 acknowledged works. Maybe it’s because of the thick late-Romantic textures, even in this work for eight strings. Yet, this early work is ripe with multiple melodies, luminous color, Romanian folk music and a personal, complex harmonic style. The result is music that repeats multiple hearings, especially if one likes the expressionistic style of early Schoenberg (Transfigured Night). It’s in one movement but the highlight is the Lentement (track 9), an adagio that is a nostalgic and heartfelt adieu to the Romantic period. The performance balances the contrapuntal complexity with a profound nod to its lyrical expressiveness.
Anyone interested in exploring the evolution of the violin in chamber music will find an intriguing blend of favorites and unfamiliar works that will be a source of constant discovery and satisfaction. Rest assured that the live performances are superb. The recordings are simply the best live chamber music documented today. That’s due to six-time Grammy Award-winning record producer Da-Hong Seetoo who has engineered these recordings for fifteen consecutive seasons. This set is a joy for the string lover.
Performing Artists:
Artistic Directors: David Finckel and Wu Han
Pianists: Gloria Chien/ Gilbert Kalish/ Hyeyeon Park/ Juho Pohjonen/ Orion Weiss
Violinists: Benjamin Beilman/ Ivan Chan/ Chad Hoopes/ Bella Hristova/ Paul Huang/ Soovin Kim/ Jessica Lee/ Sean Lee/ Yura Lee/ Arnaud Sussmann/ Danbi Um; violists Roberto Diaz, Hsin-Yun Huang/ Paul Neubauer
Cellists: Dmitri Atapine/ Nicholas Canellakis/ Clive Greensmith/ Keith Robinson
Double bassist: Scott Pingel
Horn: Radovan Vlatkovic
8 Disc Boxed Set $100 or available separately: $15. Available from musicatmenlo.org/live. Digitally Download LIVE 2017 recordings from Amazon.com, iTunes and Spotify
—Robert Moon
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 18, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
BACH: Sonatas for Violin and Harpsichord (Complete) – Isabelle Faust, violin/ Kristian Bezuidenhout, harpsichord – Harmonia mundi HMM 902256.57 (2 CDs), 87:39 *****:
BACH: Sonatas for Violin and Harpsichord (Complete) – Rachel Barton Pine, violin/ Jory Vinikour, harpsichord – Cedille CDR 90000 177 (2 CDs), 99:45 *****:
A dual review of two excellent renderings of Bach’s Violin/Harpsichord Sonatas!
It isn’t often that one gets a chance to do a head-to-head review of seminal works by JS Bach as played by two of the leading practitioners of the Bachian art. But, lo and behold, here we have nearly simultaneous releases of very important works by the master—and complete at that—which show that these pieces, for all the supposed scholarship of historical informed performances, can be as varied and different as can be imagined.
Bach Sonatas for Violin & Harpsichord
Rachel Barton Pine
These sonatas have never been as popular as the six solo partitas and sonatas, though there is no good reason why they should not be. Consistency in sources is a problem, no doubt, as these works, dating from Bach’s time in Cothen, have many different origins, and are more of a pastiche than the solo works. Nonetheless, the final products are simply superb in every way, and with performances as we have here, it is hard to believe that anyone hearing them won’t immediately reassess any previously held prejudices against them.
Bach himself couldn’t let these pieces alone. A note by Johann Christoph Friedrich even indicates that Bach “wrote these trios before his death”, meaning that he was still tinkering with them then, even though we know from existing evidence that as of 1725—a quarter century earlier—the first product issued from his pen. And they had a lasting impact, as CPE Bach said in 1774 that they “still sound very good now … even though they are over 50 years old. Despite the varied and many ways that the music came together—and you will hear many of these movements in other, sometimes wildly different ensembles—the six sonatas form an integrated set—they were not put together later by a publisher or someone with ulterior motives for profit. And the fact that the composer visited them at least four times shows the great interest he had in them.
Sonatas for Violin & Harpsichord
Isabelle Faust
Though a unified collection, the individual sonatas show great variety and strength of character. Each one demands a fresh and completely focused approach that doesn’t easily transfer from one sonata to the next. Hearing these two fabulous women interpret this music shows how deep are the Bachian feelings and how incredibly diverse the emotive content. Rachel Barton Pine’s approach, on her 1770 Nicola Gagliano violin, with partner Jory Vinikour on a 2012 copy of a Pascal Taskin harpsichord from 1769—and a gorgeous instrument—is by far the more “personal” performance here. She is direct and fervent, almost like she is performing for you alone, and that the music is designed by Bach to be communicated in this same, intensely personal manner. Both ladies are, of course, converts to the period cause, and neither of them are exclusively period practitioners, but listening to either of these recordings you would never know it. Isabelle Faust, on her 1658 Jacobus Stainer violin, accompanied by Kristian Bezuidenhout’s 2008 harpsichord after a 1722 Grabner, sees the music in a much different way. If Barton Pine is an intense Jane Austin conversation, Faust is a trip to the discotheque. Bright, wildly lit colors and dazzling virtuosity show the Bachian muse to be anything but echt personal—this is a sermon for the masses, stirring, exciting, and even mildly enervating, though never dull.
It’s nearly impossible to pick between the two, and I sure don’t want to. I suspect that when I pull these down it will be according to the mood I am in at the time. If pocketbook is a concern, the Barton Pine is two CDs for the price of one, while Faust remains stubbornly set at the high end $25 plus range. But get one of them at least—they are that good. Sound on each is wonderful, Pine closer and more directed, with Faust reverberant and airy.
—Steven Ritter
These works will be familiar to percussion mavens, but I can tell you they have never been recorded like this. The dynamic range is astounding, and when I set up any system for the early parts of these works, I found that later the volume ramped up to extremely lifelike levels. It was startling.
