by John Sunier | Apr 30, 2012 | Classical Reissue Reviews
MOZART: Missa brevis in C Major, K. 220; Symphony No. 38 in D Major, K. 504 “Prague”; HAYDN: Nine German Dances – Giuliana Raimondi, sop./ Miti Truccato Pace, mezzo/ Petre Munteanu, tenor/ James Loomis, bass/ Orchestra Sinfonia e Coro “Alessandro Scarlatti” della RAI/ Orch. Sinfonica di Torino della RAI (Haydn)/ Lovro von Matacic – Archipel ARPCD 0483, 53:33 [Distr. by Qualiton] ****:
Mozart performances led by Lovro von Matacic (1899-1985) extend his repute for explosive musical prowess, here at RAI concerts in Naples and Turin, 1960-1961. Indeed, the rendition of Mozart’s Prague Symphony (5 January 1960) exhibits such virtuoso gifts it makes us recognize the splendor of the occasion in early 1787, when the work premiered expressly as a token of the composer’s affection for a musically receptive city and for the Bohemian temperament generally.
Even more than Bruno Walter, Matacic urges his Naples ensemble forward, exploiting Mozart’s brilliant counterpoint and the blend of strings, winds, and tympani. The sheer brio of invention has infused Mozart’s edgily buoyant spirit, and Matacic keeps us in a state of perpetual tension as the minor key Adagio of the first movement moves through harmonically circuitous routes to the tonic of the febrile Allegro. The bassoon features prominently in the progress of the lovely G Major Andante, which no less offers Matacic’s dramatic urgency in polyphonic episodes. But the Finale, a 2/4 Presto of spectacular acrobatics, steals the show. The seamless bustling led by the flute gains exuberant, boisterous momentum as Matacic leads the orchestra into the heights and depths of rhythmic dexterity, ever colorful and rhythmically vibrant, a performance with which to reckon—an honest “Desert Island“ treasure!
The 1775 Missa brevis in C, several of whose tropes appear in the fateful Requiem in D Minor, K. 626, has a nickname, “The Sparrow,” bestowed for its violin figures in the Hosanna, Sanctus, and Benedictus, which resemble birds’ warblings. As concentrated as this Mass appears (with Sanctus omitted) in this resonant performance (10 October 1961), its reverential and jubilant character shines in soli and chorus. Matacic, of course, remained a past master of opera and choral forces: witness his elegant inscriptions of Lehar’s The Merry Widow with Elizabeth Schwarzkopf and an epic Der Freischuetz with Rudolf Schock. Giuliana Raimondi’s sweet soprano reigns in the Gloria, whose figures recall Vivaldi‘s transparent textures in the repeated “Amens.” A forceful Credo engages a lovely duet between tenor Petre Munteanu and Raimondi and chorus; then, it breaks off into a fervent scena for the lower voices, cast in the form of a motet. Another accompanied motet constitutes the Benedictus, employing much high tessitura and coloratura filigree. Mozart, had he lived beyond 1791, planned to devote much more time to religious music for his beloved Vienna, and this Agnus Dei, which moves through a poignant chromatic Miserere, achieves a timeless quality of solemn introspection and deep valedictory resolution in the concluding martial Dona nobis pacem.
The sequence of Nine German Dances by Haydn under Matacic (24 January 1961) illustrate the composer’s vast resources of peasant energy, his delight in instrumental combinations, particularly in the woodwinds, and his ceaseless rhythmic invention. These dances may well have provided fodder for the more famous Haydn minuets and scherzi of the symphonies. The dances alternate in mood and character from rustic romps to fairly galant gestures from the noble courts of Europe. Eminently light-hearted and athletic, the music moves in fecund transparency, bestowing a moment of noblesse oblige wherever the figures fall.
—Gary Lemco
by John Sunier | Apr 30, 2012 | Classical CD Reviews
“BEETHOVEN’S BEETHOVEN” = Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 36, arr. for piano trio by Beethoven; Quintet for Piano and Winds in E-flat Major, Op. 16, arr. for piano quartet by Beethoven – Van Swieten Society – Quintone Q 08003 [Distr. by Naxos], 59 min. ****:
We’re so used to hearing the works of important composers in arrangements by other hands that it’s surprising to find these two works, especially the very symphonic Symphony No. 2, reworked by none other than Beethoven himself. There are practical reasons for their reincarnation. In the early nineteenth century, there was a lively market for music by the masters suited to performance in the home by gifted middle-class amateurs. Since amateur musicians in Beethoven’s day would have been more likely to receive lessons on the piano or a string instrument, it made sense for Beethoven to turn his 1796 Quintet for oboe, clarinet, horn, bassoon, and piano into a quartet for string trio and piano, publishing the two versions together in 1801. Beethoven dropped many of the horn bits in the original, though he assigned some of the music to his three string players. He retained the piano part as it was in the original but added some extra music for the strings that didn’t appear in the first version. Certainly, it is a different enough piece of music in terms of sonority to be enjoyed as a separate musical experience. Since I think winds and piano are not always a felicitous combination, I tend to prefer Beethoven’s reworking.
The arrangement of the symphony was presumably done with the same monetary considerations in mind, but that’s not clear from the record. In any event, the symphony was published by the formidably named organization of Bureau des Arts et d’Industrie in 1804, while the arrangement was published two years later by the same body. A critic for the influential Allgemeine Mujsicalische Zeitung made some conjectures about the arrangement that might not have entirely thrilled Beethoven: “We may well presume it is for those who do not entirely hear this very difficult work completely, or who, amid the abundance of artistically interwoven ideas and perhaps amid the all too frequent use of the shrillest instruments, cannot understand it well enough. Finally, it is also for those who through recollection want to repeat the pleasure of the complete performance and look over and examine more calmly whatever was not entirely clear or particularly to their liking.” Lest we come away thinking that the reviewer is damning with only faint praise, he goes on to speak of the great expertise Beethoven shows in capturing the flavor of the original, as well as writing thoroughly idiomatic music for his greatly reduced forces.
It is a pretty remarkable job, given that the Second Symphony is the first in which the real Beethoven emerges, with its huge dynamic contrasts; its muscular, almost demonic allegros; and of course the first appearance of a symphonic scherzo. Perhaps the reviewer is right, that this reduced version is most useful in allowing a musician to study and render the music at first hand, but it makes for an attractive listening experience as well—more so the more you are familiar with the original. It’s interesting to see how Beethoven handled those big climaxes, with brass blaring and drums thumping. Mostly, it’s a matter of packing the climax with loads of tremolos in all three instruments, but also it entails a fidelity to the dynamic hairpins in the score—all those many szforzandi, subito pianos, and double fortes—plus some fairly massive writing for the piano, which isn’t as apparent in this recording thanks to the use of a rather high-strung copy of a fortepiano by Viennese piano maker Anton Walter. It seems the light and jangly nature of the instrument, which isn’t altogether unpleasant, is accentuated by the rather dry recording—surprising since it was made in a church. I hear a tad more openness and warmth in the recording of the Quintet/Quartet, but I think both would have benefited from the added sheen that well-managed resonance brings.
I have no such reservations about the performances of the Van Swieten Society players of the Netherlands, who have obvious affection for this music and a thorough understanding of the large shift in idiom that Beethoven’s music underwent between the 1790s and the 1800s. This is very attractive music-making.
—Lee Passarella
by John Sunier | Apr 30, 2012 | Jazz CD Reviews
Philippe Baden Powell, solo piano – Piano Masters Series, Vol. 2 – Adventure Music AM1072 2, 49:10 ****:
The Adventure Music label has evolved into a platform for many types of music, living up to the label’s name and philosophy, with releases from artists such as multi-genre, multi-string player Mike Marshall to a bevy of Brazilian-oriented records from Jovino Santos Neto, Toninho Horta and others. Along the way, the label started a schedule of productions entitled Piano Masters, to present the “intimate experience of solo piano music between artist and audience.” The first volume featured Benjamin Taubkin. The sophomore edition, Piano Masters Series, Vol. 2, showcases Philippe Baden Powell, son of Baden Powell and brother of guitarist Louis Marcel Powell.
The 49-minute, 13-track outing is a diverse mix of six Powell originals and a cross section of jazz and Latin American composers, from Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane to Caetano Veloso and Egberto Gismonti. This project was recorded on a March day in 2008 at Klavierhaus in New York City using the same piano from the first volume, the Fazioli F-308 Concert Grand Piano. The recording session thus provides a controlled environment which beautifully highlights Powell’s expertise and expressive talent.
After a brief, classically-tinted prologue, Powell opens with his short and lightly discordant “Frêvo da Sorte,” which flickers between forebodingly dark chords and playful humor-hinted tones. Powell remarks in his succinct liner notes he was “inspired by the energy” of the Big Apple during the week he spent in New York City which included the one-day session for this album. That vibrancy and vitality can be heard on the lengthiest cut, “Garfield,” which offers Powell’s ample tapestry of musical exploration, from swift right-hand runs to moody harmonics and chord clusters which furnish a tiered rhythmic characteristic. Two Powell originals close the record: the potent and animated “Vista Chinesa,” a tune which blends classical tinges with improvised sections and which was named after a panoramic vista in Rio de Janeiro; and an appropriately lyrical epilogue, “Ending,” which has a similar sensibility to the opening prologue.
Powell’s Brazilian and family history is displayed on several numbers. He interprets his father’s famous hit “Consolação,” also done by Herbie Mann, Sergio Mendes, Bola Sete and many others. Powell’s rendition is a brisk dynamic presentation with layers of percussive chords which counterbalance the well-honed melody. Powell pays more homage to his lineage on another of his father’s compositions, “Chôro Para Metrônomo,” which is not as well-known but is another spirited conception which has a memorable melody and exhibits Powell’s significant skills. Powell’s witty side flourishes on Gismonti’s “Lôro,” which has a European impression rather than a Brazilian influence. There’s also a gracefully dusky reading of Edú Lobo and Vinicius de Moraes’ Brazilian vocal song “Canto Triste,” which Powell turns into a slow shadow-infused instrumental. Topping off the program are Monk and Coltrane covers. Powell revamps “‘Round About Midnight” as a late-night rumination which has an opaque essence that focuses on the track’s solitary emotional quality. Powell uses the nearly seven-minute duration to gradually build from a feeling of aloneness to expectant romantic possibility. Powell pares Coltrane’s “Giant Steps” down to essentials to create a brooding meditation which then develops into purposeful intensity and concludes with Powell’s two final sharply stabbed notes. Powell is an artist who has the confidence and control of an expert keyboardist, whose imagination and agility is coupled with a musical perspective which knows no borders or boundaries. That perspective is completely demonstrated on Piano Masters Series, Vol. 2.
TrackList: Prologue; Frêvo da Sorte; Consolação; ‘Round About Midnight; Chôro Para Metrônomo; Lôro; The Meantime; Canto Triste; Sou Você; Garfield; Giant Steps; Vista Chinesa; Ending.
—Doug Simpson
by John Sunier | Apr 30, 2012 | Classical CD Reviews
JOHANN CHRISTIAN SCHIEFERDECKER: Musicalische Concerte (excerpts) – Elbipolis Barockorchester Hamburg – Challenge Classics CC72531, 72:36 [Distr. by Allegro] *****:
I’m right with you: who is Johann Christian Schieferdecker (1679–1732)? He was harpsichordist and composer at the Gänsemarkt Opera in Hamburg, where Handel got his start, though that worthy left for Italy about the time Schieferdecker arrived. Nonetheless, he counted among his colleagues famous operaticians of the day, including Reinhard Keiser and Johann Mattheson. Later, he became the assistant and, in 1707, successor to Dietrich Buxtehude at the Marienkirche in Lübeck. He married one of Buxtehude’s daughters, who was apparently enough of a prize that both Handel and Mattheson had unsuccessfully bid for her hand. Very little of Schieferdecker’s music was published, and the Musicalische Concerte, written in Hamburg and published in 1713, is just about all you’ll find in the recorded catalog.
Yet they are fine pieces reflecting the taste for French effects in music at the time in northern Germany. They recall the stylized suites of dances that Telemann and many, many other North German composers turned out in the early years of the eighteenth century. The Ouvertures especially are grand and stately. The Ouverture from the Concert in C Minor with which the disc commences proceeds at a funereal pace and could almost be a dirge, but like the other suites, it gives way to lively dance movements, Gavotte and Bourée, before concluding with a patrician Chaconne. The Musicalische Concerte don’t have Telemann’s cosmopolitanism or some of the more exotic touches he later indulged in, but they are solidly written and deftly, attractively scored.
Thankfully, Elbipolis Barockorchester Hamburg doesn’t treat Schieferdecker and his music as museum pieces. The clever but slightly dotty notes to the recording, written as a fictional little exchange between Schieferdecker and his wife Anna Margarethe, seem to indicate that by the time the composer was prevailed on to publish his works, they had been pirated and presumably bowdlerized by a number of hands back in Hamburg, where they remained popular. I’m not sure what instrumentation appeared in the published version, but Elbipolis Barockorchester presents them as the semi-popular entertainments they had become, adding a lively percussion part to the more spirited dance movements, a somber deep drum to the processional Ouverture in the C Minor Concert, with a resulting increase in gravity. The effect is appealing and adds much to the attractiveness of music that is already shapely and diverting. I’d encountered Schieferdecker before in a very attractive recording of overtures from the Hamburg Opera on Harmonia mundi (apparently no longer available), but there was so much new and interesting music on the disc that Schieferdecker slipped right by me. Not so here. Hearing a number of these Concerte in such lively and colorful performances gives me a new appreciation for his work.
The sonics, too, are first-rate. The instruments, including that good-timey percussion, are rendered with much fidelity and, best of all, a sense of depth and spaciousness that is just about as good as it gets in a stereo recording. I’m pretty much convinced that I’ll be mentioning this disc in my best-of-the-year roundup come January.
—Lee Passarella
by John Sunier | Apr 30, 2012 | Classical Reissue Reviews
Koczalski plays CHOPIN = 3 Mazurkas; 3 Nocturnes; Prelude, Op. 45; 6 Waltzes; Fantasie in F Minor, Op. 49; “Military” Polonaise in A Major, Op. 40, No. 1; 3 Ecossaises, Op. 72; Sonata No. 3 in B Minor, Op. 58; Fantasie-Impromptu, Op. 66; Impromptu No. 1 in A-flat Major, Op. 29; “Raindrop” Prelude in D-flat Major; Etude No. 8 in F, Op. 10, No. 8; Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Minor, Op. 21 – Raoul von Koczalski, piano/ Berlin Radio Orchestra/ Sergiu Celibidache – Music & Arts CD-1261 (2 CDs), 65:56; 74:25 [Distr. by Albany] ****:
The art of Raoul von Koczalski (1884-1948) has endured courtesy of those few Chopin-specialist collectors, some of whom were lucky enough to know of those archives preserved by Dr. Werner Unger on his Archiphon label. Audio engineer and restoration producer Mark Obert-Thorn has assembled an outstanding collation of Koczalski’s broadcast recordings from the German Radio archives, 1945 and 1948, assembled at RIAS studio sessions and from off-the-air broadcast sources in East Berlin. Happily, the set boasts over 70 minutes of previously unissued material. Koczalski’s major claim to Chopin fame lay in his having “studied” with Karol Mikuli, perhaps Chopin’s favorite pupil. The obvious result of whatever “authenticity” lies in Koczalski’s style makes itself felt in the rhythmic dimension of his playing, particularly in the accented legato phrasing, and in the freedom of rubato evidenced in such familiar pieces as the “Raindrop “ Prelude and the “Minute” Waltz.
The ten recordings of 6 February 1948 at RIAS prove instructive: the piano tone per se remains thin, but the variety of touch and rhythmic articulation reveal Koczalski as a knowing exponent of the Chopin style, his pacing truly lyrical to retain the bel canto elements in a richly ornamented instrumental medium. Finger slips by Koczalski do not intrude upon the fastidious taste of his execution, the left hand especially steady in establishing a solid pulse while the right hand displays liquidity and the illusion of improvised freedom. The A Minor Waltz provides a classic example of the sense of periodicity that applies through which an elastic thread persists. I like Koczalski’s way with the large Mazurka in B Minor, Op. 33, No. 4, which opens the first disc. We know that metric ambiguity pervades these national dances, and that freedom of accent binds itself to freedom of poetic expression. The degree of sensuousness, however, seems to me minimal, given what Michelangeli or Moravec can do with the Op. 45 Prelude or the E Minor Nocturne, Op. Posth., from which Horowitz, too, could elicit all manner of feminine appeal. The “Military” Polonaise by Koczalski has zal, certainly, but the piano tone feels chastely dry.
A 9 February 1948 Mazurka in A-flat Major, Op. 50, No. 2 demonstrates some subtle rhythmic and tempo shifts in Koczalski’s palette, playing off triple and duple meters. Commentator and editor Allan Evans remains less convinced by Koczalski’s efforts in the larger Chopin scores, which he feels baffle Koczalski’s capabilities. The F Minor Fantasie (5 April 1948) does not appear to me either disjointed or willful; rather, it explodes impulsively, the scale and sweeping gestures reminiscent of Cortot’s idiosyncratic romanticism. The central section, a melancholy ballade or intimate song, feels quite spontaneous. The outer sections assume a polonaise-like militancy, and I find Koczalski’s rubato more Polish than French in character. The liquidly fleet runs display a decidedly diaphanous quality in Koczalski’s arsenal. The B Major Nocturne, Op. 32, No. 1, like that in B-flat Minor, Op. 9, No. 1, enjoys deft and canny pacing, eminently vocal and wistful. Koczalski’s grasp of Chopin’s interior voicings, his idiosyncratic polyphony, rings true, and the taut line flows over wondrous degrees of light and shade. The Fantasie-Impromptu from 1945 Berlin over-reverberates as a recording, but the startling facility and muscularity of the gestures undeniably achieves a nobly lyrical grace, the trill and sliding grace-notes marvelously nuanced.
Disc two opens with the F Major Etude (5 April 1948), which I find mannered, but perhaps in that 19th Century style that supposedly bows to Mikuli’s influence. The A-flat Impromptu (9 February 1948) I would label “serviceable,” but its efficiency underplays the poetry. The Sonata in B Minor (5 April 1948) forever presents the problem of musical and logical continuity: Koczalski makes a good case for the meandering first movement, in which his own mercurial divisions of the bar and sudden thrusts to adjust for key change prove apt. The last movement, however, lacks resonant drama, and I feel it suits the 19th Century salon better than the concert hall. Some chord progressions, too, might raise a purist’s eyebrow. I like Koczalski’s Chopin Waltzes (24 October 1948): quicksilver filigree and wrist control play wittily and stylishly in the F Major, Op. 34, No. 3; he feels at ease adding extra ornaments to the A Minor Waltz, injecting an extra beat with a ritard, then speeding a bit to replace “stolen time.” Often his idiosyncratic fingering brings out a voice lead often suppressed in others’ renditions. Liquidity of phrase and canny application of pulse make the pearly A-flat Major, Op. 64, No. 3 tenderly nostalgic. The three Ecossaise (24 October 1948) sparkle in more Polish accents than Scottish colors, tripping in deft hues across a sensitive palette.
The F Minor Concerto with the willful Sergiu Celibidache (25 September 1948) from East Berlin displays on a more extensive level the singing rubato Koczalski could apply while meshing with the orchestra’s own grand gestures. The application of Bellini’s operatic cantabile to instrumental writing finds a spirited vehicle in this, Chopin’s first effort in concerto writing. Celibidache, too, knows that ad hoc fioritura and the broadening of the musical measure constitute an essential aspect of the Chopin style. The orchestral tuttis under Celibidache quite gallop episodically before they retreat under piano’s lithe song. The first movement Maestoso offers Koczalski manifold opportunities to project an improvisatory tapestry on the keyboard part. The lovely Larghetto’s middle section presents Koczalski’s trump card, an avid taut cantabile line that can evolve into a demonized parlando that transcends a mere salon context. A splendidly wrought mazurka, with col legno violin added for effect, the Allegro vivace enjoys a breezy debonair sensibility, Koczalski and orchestral forces in tripping, amiable harmony.
—Gary Lemco
by John Sunier | Apr 30, 2012 | Jazz CD Reviews
Mal Waldron Quintets – Soul Note/Black Saint Records (2012) BKS 1074 (Complete Re-mastered Recordings 4 CDs) **** [Distr. by Harmonia mundi] 1/2:
(Mal Waldron – piano; Woody Shaw – trumpet, flugelhorn (Discs 1 & 2); Charlie Rouse – tenor saxophone, flute (Discs 1 & 2); Reggie Workman – bass; Ed Blackwell – drums (Discs 1 & 2); Sonny Fortune – alto saxophone (Discs 3 & 4); Ricky Ford – tenor saxophone (Discs 3 & 4); Eddie Moore – drums (Discs 3 & 4)
As jazz rolled into the seventies, the golden age of bop receded into a variety of hybrid genres. An Italian label, Soul Note Records (in addition to its companion Black Saint Records) became a viable outlet for “free jazz”. Their roster of artists (who recorded in Milan during world tours) was substantive, including pianist Mal Waldron. A box set of four recordings (with producer Giovanni Bonandrini) has been re-mastered for a new generation of jazz fans to enjoy.
Disc 1: Mal Waldron Quintet – The Git Go – Live At The Village Vanguard – Soul Note Records (1987), 45:50, *****:
Consisting of two extended tracks, The Git Go – Live At The Village Gate is a complex, improvisational exercise in hard bop. The opening cut (“Status Seeking”) starts off with an ominous bass and piano line that is joined by the drum and trumpet/sax chorus. Charlie Rouse is the first soloist. His tenor runs are free-wheeling and push the instrumental tonality. Waldron, Reggie Workman and Ed Blackwell are a dynamic rhythm section, and provide an intense undercurrent to the saxophone. Rouse is both fluid and dissonant, with a halting delivery. At the six minute mark, Woody Shaw joins in. His trumpet play is quick, with a handful of trills and upper register that add a jagged resonance to the jam. At the 10:30 interval, Waldron enters with his unique combination of hard chords and right hand notation. Workman (with subtle backup by Blackwell who also has two great solos) shows some creativity on his instrument. The overall arrangement constructs a stark tension that reflects the urban narrative.
The title cut has a bluesy feel with a slower groove. Revolving around a minor chord, the austere tempo is captured with steady drum accents and deliberate, unrelenting piano chords. This frees up Rouse to be expressive. Workman is flexible and reacts to rhythm and the soloist. Waldron gives a staccato-like run against the drumming (Again, Blackwell is given ample opportunity to solo.) This jazzy march ends with the quintet in a final unison phrasing.
Disc 2: Mal Waldron Quintet – The Seagulls Of Kristiansund – Soul Note Records (1989), 62:51****1/2:
Also recorded at Village Gate, The Seagulls of Kristiansund maintains the same quintet lineup. Additionally, the uninhibited soloing is driven by the phenomenal rhythm trio. First is “Snake Out” which sets a blistering pace. Shaw gives a blistering performance, stretching the limits of the trumpet without being shrill. Rouse follows, matching the frenetic energy of the band. There is a controlled fury to the tempo, but it all seems cohesive. Waldron finds different rhythms with his trademark, percussive technique. Workman handles the transition with another great solo effort. “Judy” has the bouncy cache of big band swing with unison trumpet/saxophone. After Shaw and Rouse cut loose, Waldron steps up and executes an exquisite cascading, flowing solo. His sense of timing rivals pioneers like Monk and Powell.
There is a significant change of pace on the title song. Slower and melodic, there is a bowed bass and harmonic play. As Waldron sets up a measured emotional piano line, the cymbal work by Blackwell is a nice counter. Both reed and horn are mellow, and the unusual runs by Workman are idiosyncratic, altering the aesthetics.
Disc 3: Mal Waldron Quintet – Crowd Scene (1992) – Soul Note Records, 52:15 ****:
The first of two studio recordings, Crowd Scene establishes a substantial change. Two saxophonists (Ricky Ford on tenor and Sonny Fortune on alto) and drummer Eddie Moore join the new quintet. The title number starts off with a wicked left handed walking line and Workman’s almost violin-esque bowed bass. Fortune on alto, and Ford on tenor push away any tonal restraint with their wailing solos. Dissonant and even screeching, they burst out of the tight structure. Fortune rips through the upper registers before handing it off to Waldron to reconnect the groove with his downbeat style. Ford enters with a smooth lower register jam. Workman shows his instinctive nature with some note-bending theatrics.
In contrast, “Yin And Yang” seems more traditional, featuring a muscular piano solo by Waldron. Ford adds a fluid tenor segment, that fits the up tempo swing. Eventually Fortune blasts off with shrieking fury. The quintet manages to stay fresh, despite the lengthy (both over 25 minutes) explorations.
Disc 4: Mal Wadron Quintet – Where Are You? (1994) – Soul Note Records, 58:57 ****:
Waldron exhibits his sentimental side with his heartfelt cover of “Where Are You”. Using his aggressive playing style on a surprisingly brief (just over 5 minutes) solo performance, a tender interpretation sets a different tone for this album. “Waltz For Marianne” invokes this classic jazz tempo in a tune that gives the ensemble to improvise and solo individually and as a unit.
A Reggie Workman penned composition (“Wha’s Nine”) pursues avant-garde freestyle. Both reed players riff around the steady pulse of Waldron, Workman and Moore. There is a cacophonous ending that is effective. For fans of Waldron’s play, there is a second take of “Where Are You”.
The Mal Waldron Quintet Box Set is wild and wonderful.
TrackList:
Disc One (The Git Go – Live At Village Vanguard): Status Seeking; The Git Go
Disc Two (The Seagulls Of Kristiansund): Snake Out; Judy; The Seagulls Of Kristiansund
Disc Three (Crowd Scene): Crowd Scene; Yin And Yang
Disc Four: (Where Are You?): Where Are You? (Take I); Waltz For Marianne; Wha’s Nine?; Where Are You (Take II)
—Robbie Gerson
by John Sunier | Apr 30, 2012 | Pop/Rock/World CD Reviews
Orchestre National de Jazz – Shut Up and Dance [4/19/11] – Bee Jazz Bee 042, (2 CDs) 44:13; 40:24 ****:
(Daniel Yvinec – artistic director; Eve Risser – piano, prepared piano, flute; Vincent Lafont – keyboards, piano, electronics; Antonin-Tri Hoang – alto saxophone, clarinet, bass clarinet, piano; Matthieu Metzger – alto, soprano and MIDI saxophones, trombophone; Rémi Dumoulin– tenor saxophone, clarinet, bass clarinet; Joce Mienniel – piccolo, flute, bass flute, electronic treatments; Guillaume Poncelet – trumpet, flugelhorn, keyboards; Pierre Perchaud – electric and acoustic guitars, banjo; Sylvain Daniel – electric bass; Yoann Serra – drums; all band members – tuned percussion tubes (track 6, CD 1))
The music of composer John Hollenbeck and France’s Orchestre National de Jazz (known to fans as ONJ) does not get the wider attention they both deserve: which is why listeners should take notice of Hollenbeck and ONJ’s collaboration, Shut Up and Dance. The two-CD collection (issued in Europe in 2010 and stateside a year ago) offers Hollenbeck’s mini-concertos written expressly to showcase the personalities of ten ONJ members while also focusing on the broader aspects of rhythm and beat. Hollenbeck is probably best renowned for the material he’s penned for The Claudia Quintet, which includes recent releases such as last year’s What Is the Beautiful? (which has contributions from Kurt Elling) or 2010’s Royal Toast (with pianist Gary Versace). Orchestre National de Jazz (under the current leadership of artistic director Daniel Yvinec) has charted a unique musical path over the last quarter century, with projects that have had Mediterranean flavoring as well as tributes related to Billie Holiday, art rock pioneer Robert Wyatt and more. The Wyatt sessions were Yvinec’s first foray with ONJ; Shut Up and Dance is his second ONJ production.
Percussion is everywhere. Over the course of 80+ minutes, an abundance of instruments (prepared piano, electronics, flutes, drums, saxes, guitars and more) demonstrate a powerful blending of melodic passages with repeating tones which rove from jazz to electronic music, and from hints of Duke Ellington-like swing to amped-up fusion. Despite the blunt album title, the material more often evokes dance in its ritualistic or non-secular qualities than any overt attempt to shake booty: this is music designed to stimulate or stir the brain rather than move the body. But, as stated, rhythm is everywhere and is spotlighted in distinctive and meticulous modes. After a brief prologue, for example, the ensemble begins with “Melissa Dance,” composed to reveal saxophonist/clarinetist Antonin-Tri Hoang’s persona. While drums, piano, electronic elements and other horns maintain a reflective groove, Hoang provides lengthy and soaring improvisations which keep the tune grounded in jazz, until the arrangement shifts to a rock-inclined section where electric guitar and keyboards share space with bass clarinet. There is a clockwork cadence which simmers throughout the post-bop piece “Flying Dream,” a platform for guitarist Pierre Perchaud. The wind instruments drive the beat while Perchaud layers in his effects-laden guitar, sometimes recalling John Scofield’s distorted tonality. The first CD’s preeminent feature is the wide-ranging “Shaking Peace,” which centers on pianist Eve Risser’s temperament. Risser is the principal instrumentalist during this impressionistic tune, with wind and brass utilized for counterbalance and accentuation. There are points of clipped percussion from a myriad of instruments (banjo, prepared piano, assorted percussion) which supplement the cyclic arrangement in ways which suggest Steve Reich or Philip Glass. CD 1 concludes with the brief “Boom,” where the whole group employs tuned PVC tubing and sampled sounds (fragmented dialogue, buzzing insects, frogs) to create an all-percussion introduction which segues into “Bob Walk,” a jazz-drenched tribute to trombonist Bob Brookmeyer (Hollenbeck was part of Brookmeyer’s New Art Orchestra). Here, Matthieu Metzger is front and center with his one-of-a-kind trombophone, which helps Metzger emulate Brookmeyer’s fluid modernity while the band strikes a slightly Zappa-esque mannerism.
The second compact disc is as far-reaching as the first disc. The bright and bouncy “Tongs of Joy” is a funk-filled fusion number which pinpoints keyboardist Vincent Lafont, who offers electronic keyboards reminiscent of early-‘70s Herbie Hancock. On the flipside is “Praya Dance,” an ear-catching mélange of Indo-Asian influences and pointillist percussive parts heightened by Joce Mienniel’s flute input which lies halfway between late-‘60s era Hubert Laws and the earthiness of Jeremy Steig’s 1970s output. The other three tracks are also interesting and put the accent on other ONJ players. The harmonically advanced “Falling Men” is approachable but retains an insider/outsider perspective, and brings out the best from Guillaume Poncelet on trumpet and flugelhorn. There is an ECM-like ambiance which permeates “Life Still,” ostensibly created for electric bassist Sylvain Daniel, although ethereal wind instruments and what sounds like a harp (but isn’t) soften the track into a minimalist-tinged mood. The second disc wraps up with the longest cut, “The Power of Water,” which includes electronic-dance ornamentations, a repeating rhythmic motif (conveyed mostly by the horns) and has a whiff of prog rock (think 1990s King Crimson) and a freer portion where drummer Yoann Serra asserts his drum kit fortitude. It is obvious while hearing Shut Up and Dance that this is an album of progressive big band jazz which illuminates both the musical kinship of Orchestre National de Jazz and John Hollenbeck’s dynamic and scrupulously intriguing compositions. That mark of detailed depth carries over to Gilles Olivesi and Boris Darley’s engineering and mixing mastery, delivered with warmth and width, where the bass tones bound out of the speakers and the higher registers are clear and concise. For those who want further information, there is a short, nine-minute promotional film in English and French, wherein Yvinec and Hollenbeck explain how the project got started and the compositional methodology, with snippets from several tunes, and video footage of the sessions which reveals how traditional jazz instruments where used alongside electronics and avant-garde touches like prepared piano.
TrackList:
CD 1: Up; Melissa Dance; Flying Dream; Shaking Peace; Racing Heart, Heart Racing; Boom (intro); Bob Walk (tribute to Bob Brookmeyer).
CD 2: Tongs of Joy; Praya Dance; Falling Men; Life Still; The Power of Water.
—Doug Simpson
by John Sunier | Apr 27, 2012 | CD+DVD
ALLAN PETTERSSON: Symphony No. 1 (completed by Christian Lindberg); Symphony No. 2 – Norrköping Sym. Orch./ Christian Lindberg – BIS 1860, 77:54; CD + DVD, “Allan Pettersson: The First Symphony” by David Lindberg, 58:30 [Distr. by Qualiton] ****:
Before this review I have come across Allan Pettersson’s music only occasionally. The Nielsen symphonies, or at least the flavor of them, are all I can compare it to. Well, maybe a healthy dash of Peter Mennin’s unrelenting musical movements and counterpoint makes for a more apt comparison. Pettersson was a Schoenberg fan early in his career until time spent studying with Honegger changed his philosophy, and he moved more towards an “inspiration” model of composition as opposed to Schoenberg’s more systematic—and ultimately serial—methods that seemed to Pettersson to reside in the head more than the heart.
Even so, listening to this reconstruction of his First Symphony, admirably accomplished with no easy effort by Christian Lindberg, you are left with the impression that while the technique of Schoenberg was gone there was not yet any clear sense of style that took it place. The work is placid and irritable all at once while meandering to the point of the undecipherable. To me it’s no little wonder that it was left incomplete, and its many stopping points in the score show that Pettersson didn’t know what to do with it either. Lindberg has made an accomplished effort, but even the most adroit finisher would have trouble with material that just doesn’t seem coherent.
The Second Symphony is much more sophisticated, logical, easier on the ears, but also relentlessly pessimistic in tone. [Like much of Pettersson’s music…Ed.] And at 46 minutes, with continuous music, it becomes a real chore to hear, almost like the incessant musings of a constant complainer. My head was spinning at the conclusion and emotionally I was not a happy camper, a reaction that I have only intermittently when listening to music in general and— curiously enough—never when listening to Schoenberg. So I suppose the head versus heart arguments are moot and Gustav Holst was right when he said that inspiration was 95% work.
Lindberg and forces play the music very well indeed, with the sound having a little less bloom than I am used to on BIS releases. Pettersson has 15 of these things on the books, so I guess if you are a fan you will want this for the very important completion of the First Symphony at least. The generous one-hour DVD documentary about the genesis of that symphony only adds to the desirability of this disc for the committed.
—Steven Ritter
by John Sunier | Apr 27, 2012 | Audio News
The CALM Act – New Loudness Rules – The FCC has adopted new rules for the CALM act (Commercial Advertisement Loudness Mitigation Act). It regulates the audio on TV commercials from being broadcast at louder sound volumes than the program material they accompany. Viewer complaints to the FCC for years have prompted the new law. It is now mandatory that all commercial advertising transmitted by TV broadcasters adhere to the ATSC A/85 recommended practices, and provide a “safe harbor” for commercials passed thru by stations. Under the order, the FCC’s Enforcement Bureau will notify stations of non-compliance if it receives a pattern or trend of consumer complaints.
France to Ban Silver Screens – France’s Film Board has ruled that all silver screens must be phased out no later than 2017, except for theaters projecting exclusively 3D content. The problem is the hotspotting with silver screens due to their high directivity. France has 2519 3D screens, 1200 of which are silver, and about 850 of those use the RealD system, which has become the standard in North America.
Music-Induced Hearing Disorders – An AES Conference will be held at Columbia College in Chicago June 20-22 on New Technologies for Measurement and Protection of Music-Induced Hearing Disorders. With the omnipresence of portable listening devices and louder sound systems for live sound reproduction, the interest in music-induced hearing disorders and their measurement and prevention has become global.
Vinyl Pressing Plants – There are now about 20 plants pressing vinyl LPs in the U.S. The now-owner of Gotta Groove Records in Cleveland was intrigued that his college-age daughter had begun buying vinyl records. He bought the equipment of a Newark, NJ plant that was going out of business, and how turns out 20,000 vinyl pressings every two weeks. They have 11 fulltime employees and do colored or etched swirly finishes on discs if asked. In 2011 2.8 million vinyl records were sold in the U.S.
Connected Home Research – Parks Associates in Dallas is holding their 16th annual Connections Digital Living Conference and Showcase June 5-7. At the end of 2011 U.S. broadband households with at least one Internet-connectable CE product (excluding PCs and mobile devices) reached nearly 40%. 40% of smartTV households access online movie and TV content from sources such as Netflix, Amazon and Best Buys’ CinemaNow, on at least a monthly basis. Connections focuses on solutions for the connected consumer and strategies to monetize digital content, mobile applications and services, value-added services, connected consumer electronics, and home systems.
by John Sunier | Apr 27, 2012 | SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
WAGNER: Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (complete opera) – Albert Dohmen, bass-baritone (Hans Sachs) / Georg Zeppenfeld, bass (Veit Pogner) / Michael Smallwood, tenor (Kunz Vogelsang) / Sebastian Noack, bass (Konrad Nachtigall) / Dietrick Henschel, bass (Sixtus Beckmesser) / Tuomas Puriso, bass (Fritz Kothner) / Jörg Schörner, tenor (Balthasar Zorn) / Thomas Ebenstein, tenor (Ulrich Eißlinger) / Thornsten Scharnke, tenor (Augustin Moser) / Tobias Berndt, tenor (Hermann Ortel) / Hans-Peter Scheidegger, bass (Hans Schwarz) / Hyung-Wook Lee, bass (Hans Foltz) / Robert Dean Smith, tenor (Walther von Stolzing) / Peter Sonn (David) / Edith Haller, soprano (Eva) / Rundfunkchor Berlin / Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin / Marek Janowski – PentaTone Classics multichannel SACD PTC 5186 402 (four discs), 79:54; 67:25; 58:34; 47:22 [Distr. by Naxos] ****1/2:
The third of the PentaTone series of Wagner operas from conductor Marek Janowski is a real changeup, the leadoff in the series being Wagner’s first international success (Der fliegende Holländer) and the second, the very last of his thirteen completed stage works (Parsifal). In marked contrast to these most dramatic of music dramas, Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg is the only comic opera written in Wagner’s maturity. Composed while Wagner was working on the Ring, between Die Walküre and Götterdämmerung, it represents quite a departure for Wagner.
While reading Simon Morrison’s fine Prokofiev biography, The Peoples’ Artist, I was struck by a comment from the composer to the effect that in his Soviet-era operas, he wanted specifically to avoid the “stasis” of Wagnerian music drama. Certainly, Prokofiev was thinking of operas from Die Walküre onward, with the conspicuous exception of Die Meistersinger. The Ring operas, with their spare casts of characters and even sparer action sequences, couldn’t have prepared the world for Die Meistersinger, with its grand opera cast and grand opera trappings, including stirring arias and choruses—even a charming ballet for the apprentices. Add to that some of the most complex polyphony written in the nineteenth century (the overture ends by interweaving no less than four themes from the opera)—presumably to capture the essence of Renaissance music-making. What’s more, it’s the only one of Wagner’s mature operas to take place in a real-world setting with real historical figures, including the chief of the German Meistersinger of the late Middle Ages and Renaissance, the shoemaker Hans Sachs (1494-1576).
I’ve come to expect that notes written by Continental music critics are going to be a bit wayward and chatty, but despite this, Steffan Georgi’s long essay contains valuable insights on the autobiographical nature of Wagner’s opera. Clearly Wagner identifies with musician and poet Sachs, just as he uses the inept town clerk Beckmesser—whose name came to define the hidebound musical reactionary—to lambast his critics, especially the Brahms-worshipping Eduard Hanslick. But there’s more to it than that: Georgi recounts the tale of Wagner’s 1861 trip to Venice with Otto and Mathilde Wesendonck (Mathilde, of course, the poet behind Wagner’s Wesendonck Lieder). The trip was planned as a gesture of reconciliation after the uncomfortable affair between Wagner and Mathilde, especially uncomfortable given that Otto was one of Wagner’s most loyal benefactors.
The composer’s feelings for Mathilde were discovered by his wife, Minna, and “there was only one way for Wagner to protect himself against the self-destructive frustration caused by the break-up: renunciation. He was inspired by the Virgin Mary [portrayed in Titian’s painting The Assumption of the Virgin]—who symbolizes ‘all that is pure and unselfish, all that is divine love’ (Peter Wapnewski)—to transform Die Meistersinger from a silly comedy into a truly purifying satyr play.”
Thus, as commentators have noted, the opera is a comedy with a rather sad central figure, one that would have gotten the girl except for the appearance of the charming knight Walther von Stolzing, who steals Eva’s heart and whom Sachs helps to claim her hand as prize in the singing contest. To underscore the fact of Sachs’s hurtful renunciation, his scene with Eva in Act 3 (Hat man mit dem Schuhwerk) includes clear references to the music of Tristan und Isolde, the story of a love triangle that turns out tragically. The connection with Mathilde and Otto is obvious, and in fact Wagner stated that some of the Wesendonck Lieder were studies for his tragic opera to come. So both Tristan and Die Meistersinger must have represented catharsis and/or sublimation for Wagner, who reportedly thought of Mathilde as the one true love of his life.
In any event, Wagner’s gargantuan comic opera (well over four hours in length) has, besides some nigh-slapstick humor at Beckmesser’s expense, grandeur, pathos, and great spectacle as well. It must present quite a challenge for opera producers, especially in this age of straightened finances. But as with the rest of the operas in this PentaTone series, the present recording is based not a staged performance but on a live concert performance from the Berlin Philharmonie, which, come to think of it, must have presented its own challenges, given the huge forces—both vocal and orchestral—involved. I haven’t heard the Parsifal from this source, which seems to be garnering mixed reviews, but as in Der fliegende Holländer, Janowski’s pacing of the music and command of his musicians are impressively sure. The orchestra plays with great force and color, while the chorus is drilled to a T, emotive to a fault.
As to the solo singing, this is an opera with a rich recorded tradition behind it. There are celebrated recordings by Karajan, Jochum, Kubelík, and Solti, featuring the greatest singers of the day: Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau vs. José van Dam (Sachs), Hermann Prey vs. Ben Heppner (Beckmesser), Gundula Janowitz vs. Karita Mattila (Eva). I’m not sure that any of Janowski’s cast is quite of legendary quality, but Albert Dohmen, who was a very fine Holländer in the first opera in the series, makes a commanding Sachs: large voiced, touched with the right degree of noble pathos. Edith Haller can’t compete with Janowitz (who could?) but is a sympathetic Eva, balancing innocence with awakening passion as the role demands. Her voice is light and clean, poised throughout. Apparently, Walther is a hard role to bring off, and while the American tenor Robert Dean Smith is mostly good, he seems to have tired by the third act; his song Morgen ich leuchte, the vocal set piece of the opera, shows strain compared, say, to the magnificent Ben Heppner, who admittedly enjoys the benefit of the studio recording experience. Actually, I find Dietrich Henschel’s Beckmesser more effective, a fine performance throughout, including his comically muffed delivery of Walther’s song to the accompaniment of a very twangy lute. The lesser roles are all handled more than competently by a veteran cast.
If anything, PentaTone’s live recording is an improvement on their mostly excellent Holländer; the rear channels aren’t employed for any off-stage business, as they were in Holländer, but they’re used to provide credible ambience and help define a very deep soundstage. Solo voices are beautifully, realistically placed in relation to the orchestra, chorus and orchestra being crystal clear, large of presence. In short, except for the a bit of splashiness in those big cymbal crashes, this is SACD sound at its best, live recording or no. From here, Janowski and company move on to Lohengrin. If they provide as fine a listening experience as in this Meistersinger, it will be worth hearing for sure.
—Lee Passarella
by John Sunier | Apr 27, 2012 | SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
STRAVINSKY: The Firebird (complete ballet); Greeting Prelude; Arrangements of TCHAIKOVSKY: Pas-de-deux from The Sleeping Beauty; SIBELIUS: Canzonetta, Op. 62a; CHOPIN: Nocturne in A-flat, Op. 32, No. 1; Grande Valse Brilliante, Op. 18 – Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra/ Andrew Litton – BIS multichannel SACD 1874, 71:40 [Distr. by Qualiton] ****:
The Firebird is of course the one that started it all; after this friends began to intimate that the composer was on the verge of great celebrity, and they were not wrong. And it is odd, that after all the trouble the composer took in his revisions, that he ended up not getting one red cent from royalties (one of the reasons for the creation of the 1945 Suite), easily his most played work worldwide, even though this first collaboration between Diaghilev and Stravinsky would produce some other rather noted works—to break into severe understatement.
As mentioned above, there are other versions of this work, all created by the composer. The original 1910, given here, is heavily romantic and luxuriant in concept, almost impressionistic in spots. In 1911, seeing the need for a more manageable work for the concert hall, Stravinsky issued the first Suite, which severely cut the work but did little to reduce the forces needed for the complete ballet. 1919 saw the appearance of the second and most popular of the reductions, making it the most preferable for the modern symphony orchestra, and requiring little outside of normal forces for performance. In 1945 the composer returned to the work for the last time, essentially for copyright purposes and using the most music from the original score, and he even recorded it for Columbia Records in 1967—his last recording for them.
I have kept only three recordings of the complete ballet in my collection—Colin Davis and the Royal Concertgebouw, Seiji Ozawa and the Orchestre de Paris, and one SACD, Robert Craft’s with Philharmonia from 1996. With this entry Andrew Litton joins the elite hi-def recordings. Any Litton recording is going to be well-executed, well-thought out, and immaculately performed—this one is no different. But Litton also emphasizes the romantic nature of the music and therefore softens the edges considerably. This has plusses and minuses, but I do miss the extra edge that Craft brings to his recording, which generally speaking has slightly more clarity and focus than this one, which is often somewhat muddy in the middle register, and sounds recorded at a distance. Nonetheless, Litton has a formidable voice in this work, and his shaping of the various sections is effective and consistent, unlike Ozawa, who revels in some amazingly vibrant colors but often fails to connect the dots.
The fillers are interesting but not mandatory; Stravinsky was commissioned by Diaghilev pre-Firebird for two pieces for the Ballet Russes that eventually became incorporated into the Michel Fokine ballet Chopiniana (later Les sylphides), though eventually other music and orchestrations were substituted. The remaining works were also created for performing situations and make for an interesting footnote to the composer’s other more well-known work.
All in all a laudatory release, coming from a known conductor who rarely disappoints.
—Steven Ritter
by John Sunier | Apr 27, 2012 | Classical Reissue Reviews
Eduard van Beinum Conducts HAYDN: Symphony No. 96 in D Major “Miracle”; BRAHMS: Symphony No. 3 in F Major, Op. 90; RAVEL: Rapsodie Espagnole; TCHAIKOVSKY: Andante cantabile from String Quartet No. 1 in D Major, Op. 11 – Concertgebouw Orch. of Amsterdam/ London Philharmonic Orchestra (Brahms)/ Eduard van Beinum – Dutton CDBP 9812, 75:13 [Distr. by Harmonia mundi] ****:
Eduard van Beinum (1901-1959) matured under the aegis of his predecessor in Amsterdam, Willem Mengelberg, but Beinum’s approach to the conductor’s role differed radically from Mengelberg’s flamboyant virtuosity. More the literalist, infinitely less grandiose, Beinum favored a notion of collegial collaboration with his players, ever insistent on the precise craftsmanship of execution. A stylistic cleanliness prevails, but its innate musicality eschews the merely academic or pedestrian epithets. We feel an interpretive transparency of that musician who places the text well above his own idiosyncratic vision.
The Haydn “Miracle” Symphony (21 September 1947) falls into that brief period when Beinum could alternate his venues between Amsterdam and London, before chronic health issues curtailed much of his itinerant energies. Spirited playing marks every turn of the Haydn (1791) opus, but especially in the Menuetto and Trio, in which the oboe enjoys an extensive part. Beinum achieves a fine interplay between his string, woodwind, and tympani sections, the result aerial and athletic at once. The 2/4 Vivace finale flirts with an edgy propulsion that quite balances a dainty filigree against a muscular, highly volatile series of rocket figures. Crisp articulation in flute, bassoon, and strings convinces us that the Concertgebouw could execute any musical challenge with smiling panache.
Virility, warmth, and sinewy passion mark the inscription of the Brahms F Major Symphony (20-23 March 1946) with the London Philharmonic. Beinum had a great sympathy for Brahms, and collectors would do well to seek out his renditions of the symphonies and the Violin Concerto with Belgian master Arthur Grumiaux. Beinum does not take the first movement repeat, but he infuses the Allegro con brio with girth, menace, and yearning as it vacillates between major and minor, wringing our hearts with its F-A-F and F-A-E anagrams of the composer’s essentially lonely persona. The bucolic episodes, tendered by winds and low strings, enjoy the clear definition of Beinum’s dependable precision. The composer’s rhetorical fervor and passionate sweep consistently find a reverent master in Beinum. My personal favorite movement, the lovely C Major Andante, welds each songlike episode in unbroken, brisk harmony, often achieving a misty nostalgia quite in keeping with the music’s yearning sensibility. The C Minor Poco allegretto exerts its own mystique, and director Vincente Minnelli recognized its haunting appeal for his film noir Undercurrent (1946). The F Minor opening of the final Allegro exerts a terrific menace and incisive accents, martially poignant, and not particularly indicative of the symphony’s sunnier F Major ending. Excellent trumpet work from the LPO. The rather overt references to both Schumann and Beethoven do not dilute the impact of an immensely satisfying reading.
Ravel’s Rapsodie Espagnole (10 September 1948) extends Beinum’s command of orchestral colors, here merged with a sensual exoticism. The Malaguena and Habanera though brief shimmer with eros. While “trespassing” on territory well occupied by Charles Munch, Paul Paray, Fritz Reiner, and Sergiu Celibidache, Beinum proves himself a master artist of the nationalist or impressionist brush-stroke. The clarity of detail in the concluding Feria fuses laughing energy with high orchestral gloss in whirling panoply, the triple-tonguing in the brass sufficient warrant for a decisive Hats Off!
New to my own Beinum catalogue comes the delicate Andante cantabile (22 September 1947) arranged from Peter Tchaikovsky’s first string quartet. A pity Beinum did not record the Op. 48 String Serenade, since the unblemished intimacy of this fine moment of chamber ensemble places the Concertgebouw’s string section in the Parthenon of such renditions.
—Gary Lemco
by John Sunier | Apr 27, 2012 | SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
The Sound of Jazz – Soundtrack from 1957 CBS-TV Special – [TrackList follows] Columbia/ Pure Pleasure Records 180gr. audiophile mono vinyl CL 1098 *****:
(Henry “Red” Allen All-Stars, Billie Holiday with the Mal Waldron All-Stars, Mal Waldron solo, Jimmy Giuffre, Pee Wee Russell, Count Basie All-Stars with Jimmy Rushing)
In early December of 1957 the most perfect hour of jazz ever on TV was telecast. Four days before that, all the musicians (except Gerry Mulligan, who reneged because he wasn’t paid extra for it) assembled in Columbia’s 30th Street studios in NYC to record, in early stereo, the same selections that would be featured on the live TV show four days later. It was such an excellent hour of jazz TV because CBS had the good sense to leave everything to two jazz experts: Whitney Balliett and Nat Hentoff. They decided from the start to concentrate on the music and forget about the usual TV show trimmings. Everyone dressed casually, the cameras, mikes, lights and wires were visible. Media critic John Crosby was the relaxed host, who only introduced the hour and gave credits at the end of it. The way Billie looks at Lester Young during closeups in her tune is priceless; within two years both were gone. (The DVD is available; get it!)
I wish I could be more positive about this audiophile LP. A number of times in the past I had identified and complained about CD reissues (mostly on the Fantasy label) which were only released in mono and yet I owned perfectly fine actual stereo LPs of the same material. This one is the reverse—there is a fine Columbia/Legacy stereo CD reissue of The Sound of Jazz. Not only does it add an eight-minute double-length alternate take of “Wild Man Blues,” but it is also burned as a CD-R, which if done right can sometimes be superior fidelity to a pressed CD. Audiophile vinyl reissue labels request the best possible master from whomever they are licensing the material from, and both Pure Pleasure and myself deduce that Sony Music must have found some damage—dropouts, for example—on the original stereo tapes. (But that seems strange because Sony Music has supposedly archived all their analog masters to DSD—that’s what they invented it for in the first place—and surely the stereo version of the best hour of jazz on TV ever would be one of the first things to be so preserved.)
Anyway, what I had to compare was this mono audiophile vinyl with the Columbia/Legacy stereo CD. Switching back and forth, the vinyl sounds a bit rolled off in the treble compared to the more distant-sounding but more harsh and somewhat metallic stereo CD. Mal Waldron’s solo piano on “Nervous” (misidentified at Wikipedia as Thelonious Monk—though he does sound a lot like Monk here) actually sounds better on the mono vinyl. More natural and placed at dead center of the soundstage of course. The stereo CD suffers from the too-wide-piano mike pickup which so many piano recordings suffer from. (And the first few years of jazz stereo recordings generally suffer from this “hole-in-the-middle” miking.)
However, on nearly everything else the early stereo adds a tremendous impact and boost to the sonics—especially of the Allen and Basie Bands. Hearing the brass on one side answer the winds on the other is a kick. Even on intimate tracks such as the Jimmy Giuffre Trio, it is a pleasure to hear the guitar on the left, doublebass in the center and Jimmy’s clarinet on the right—rather than all coming out of the center speaker in mono. Both vocals with the bands’ backing—by Billie and by Rushing—are a delight and probably the highlights of the hour. Considering not only stereo but the price difference, the CD reissue gets my vote here. Both formats reprint the original liner notes by Eric Larrabee, which originally appeared in Harper’s Magazine.
TrackList:
Wild Man Blues; Rosetta – Red Allen, Fine and Mellow – Billy Holiday with Waldron All-Stars, Blues – Giuffre & Russell, I Left My Baby – Jimmy Rushing with Basie All-Stars, The Train and the River – Giuffre Trio, Nervous – Mal Waldron, Dickie’s Dream – Basie All-Stars
—John Sunier
by John Sunier | Apr 26, 2012 | SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
Thad Jones/Mel Lewis – Consummation – Blue Note (1970)/ Pure Pleasure Records (2012) PPAN BST 84346 180-gram audiophile stereo vinyl, 46:04 *****:
(Thad Jones – Flugelhorn; Mel Lewis – drums; Snooky Young – trumpet; Danny Moore – trumpet; Al Porcino – trumpet; Marvin Stamm – trumpet; Eddie Bert – trombone; Benny Powell – trombone; Jimmy Knepper – trombone; Cliff Heather – trombone; Jerome Richardson – alto & soprano saxophone, flute; Jerry Dodgion – alto saxophone, flute, clarinet; Eddie Daniels – tenor saxophone, clarinet, flute; Billy Harper – tenor saxophone, flute; Pepper Adams – baritone saxophone, clarinet; Roland Hanna – piano, electric piano; Richard Davis – bass, electric bass; David Spinozza – guitar; Jimmy Buffington – French horn; Earl Chapin – French horn; Dick Berg – French horn; Julius Watkins – French horn; Howard Johnson – tuba; with Richie Kamuca & Joe Farrell)
By the mid-sixties, big band jazz was all but extinct. In New York, a band was formed by trumpeter Thad Jones and drummer Mel Lewis. Comprised of an all-star cadre of studio musicians in New York, The Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra made their debut at the Village Vanguard in 1966. Their arrangements (by Jones who previously wrote and toured with Count Basie) drew on big band, swing, bebop and hard bop influences. Drummer extraordinaire Jones brought a smaller “combo” dynamic to the rhythm section that would be a benchmark for future big band drummers. Decades after their inception, the band remains as the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra, playing the legendary namesake venue regularly since the early nineties.
The re-mastered audiophile vinyl of Consummation (recorded in 1970) by Pure Pleasure Records captures the artistry of this progressive big band. With seven original compositions (written and arranged by Thad Jones), forty-six minutes of intricate textured large ensemble jazz unfolds with unpretentious skill and creativity. Side One opens with a presumed ballad, “Dedication”. Jones’ flugelhorn is lyrical and melodic, backed by tinkling piano, bass and drum cymbal. Adding a soothing reed backdrop, horn accents chime in, only to segue into an explosive swing/dance jam.” It Only Happens Every Time” is laid out in a bossa nova tempo, with muted trumpet (Marvin Stamm) and flute (Jerome Richardson) shading. Roland Hanna contributes an elegant piano solo. Switching to a breezier cadence, “Tiptoe” is a layered arrangement, with graduated, sweeping movements There is an interlude with brush drums (Lewis) and horns that is rousing. Lewis’ band-leading talents are impressive. Roland Hanna’s sensitivity returns on “A Child Is Born”. Jones also contributes to the emotional landscape with another memorable Flugelhorn lead. Using different approaches, “Us” is a funky brassy number that combines bass (Richard Davis) and guitar (David Spinoza) in a 60s-style rock mode.
Side Two turns up the heat on ”Amunk Amunk”. This opus percolates with soulful horns (especially a muscular tenor saxophone run by Eddie Daniels) and an electric piano. Within this framework, many subtle combinations of instruments are propelled by the driving pulse of Lewis. Fans of bop will be delighted with “Fingers”. At ten and a half minutes (the longest cut on the album) the uptempo fury energizes the impromptu skills of the players, including a wild solo on trombone by Benny Powell. Lewis’ driving rhythm (and ending flourish) matches the intensity of Art Blakey. The title cut (another ballad) brings in French horns and tuba (Howard Johnson), to combine with the muted trumpet of Snooky Young. After a nuanced crescendo, the album comes to a harmonious close.
The sound quality of this vinyl recording is dazzling. All of the instruments (even in a heavily blended configuration) are vibrant, and possess a warm resonance (especially the reeds). Delicate touches like a drum brush or flute emerge from the mix unfettered. The incisive liner notes from Jones and Lewis are tantamount to being in the studio during the recording. Even the illustrations by Leo Meirsdorff (color and black & white) are amazing. Consummation is a tremendous accomplishment, especially on hi-res vinyl.
TrackList:
Side One: Dedication; It Only Happens Every Time; Tiptoe; A Child Is Born; Us
Side Two: Ahunk Ahunk; Fingers; Consummation
—Robbie Gerson
by John Sunier | Apr 26, 2012 | Classical CD Reviews
Music of CHINARY UNG: Vol. 3 = Spiral XI : Mother and Child; Spiral IX : Maha Sathukar – Stephen Solook, percussion & voice/Lynn Vartan, percussion & voice/Thomas Buckner, baritone & percussion/Susan Ung, viola, voice & percussion/Chinary Ung, cond. – Bridge Records 9368, 47:42 [Distr. by Albany] ***:
Cambodian born composer Chinary Ung produces complex but very interesting music that is steeped in the sounds, mindset and history of his native land. Ung has been writing this very attention-getting type of music for a long time now and his works have always evoked a very “Eastern” sound but with a clearly emotional impact.
I am familiar with his virtuosic and intense solo cello work, Khse Buon, and am also somewhat familiar with Ung’s “Spiral” series, of which two fairly recent additions are heard here. The entire “Spiral” series is characterized by some playing techniques and timbres that have come to identify much of Ung’s output. These two works, like many of the others, call upon the players in the ensemble to sing and play small percussion instruments in places, throughout the score. Additionally, much of his music (and many of the “Spiral” series) utilizes extremely unusual combinations of timbres – such as soprano with tuba or solo guitar with percussion and the like.
A lot of the resultant sounds have a definitely mystical and improvised feel to them, almost in the manner of John Cage, but Ung has a very unique voice and the music is actually very carefully notated, and does stretch the abilities of the performers, especially in a “flexibility” way, not so much from conventional technical prowess. It is also important to note though that, while Ung’s music is a different listening experience and does revolve around some very difficult themes to absorb, it is not a difficult experience.
For example, Spiral XI : Mother and Child is a mostly quiet, meditative work in which a solo viola plays a long line, very gradually-built melody not unlike a lullaby in its impact. The violist sings a separate line against the viola melody that – at first – seems quite disconnected and eventually comes closer in a sort of bonding with the viola; almost symbolic, like the natural and permanent bond between a mother and her child. This very plaintive work is performed here, wonderfully, by the composer’s wife, Susan Ung.
Spiral IX : Maha Sathukar is, in many ways, quite a different matter. The work opens dramatically with the performers intoning and calling out vocal expressions that – while no direct translation is provided – evoke pleas and calls to a higher order or, perhaps, in an emotional commentary of sorts. The composer explains that this work is based on a Buddhist principle, “Shunyata”, in which a relative void or “bubble” can still contain very complex spiritual meaning. (A major tenet of Buddhism that Ung has expressed in other works, such as his Rain of Tears, is that of finding importance and significance in the apparently very simple) Spiral XI is a wonderfully ethereal score in which some percussion instruments including vibraphones conjure up very shadowy and diaphanous textures against which the ensemble vocalizes. The performance here is quite compelling, especially that of the very gifted new music vocalist Thomas Buckner. His timbre is smooth and he has an amazingly flexible voice.
Chinary Ung and Susan Ung are important and much respected figures in the Southern California new music scene. Ung is a composition professor at the University of California at San Diego and multiple award-winning composer. There are two other Bridge releases of his music I would like to obtain. This is genuinely fascinating stuff from a composer with a unique voice whose music should be heard. I think all listeners would be engaged in the listening and challenged to try something rewarding and new by hearing this. Congratulations, again, to Bridge Records for continuing to bring forth the unusual but very worthwhile.
—Daniel Coombs
by John Sunier | Apr 26, 2012 | SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
B.B. King – Singin’ The Blues – Crown Records (1957)/ Pure Pleasure Records (2011) CLP 5020 180-gram audiophile mono vinyl ****1/2:
(B.B. King – guitar, vocals; Red Callender – bass; Maxwell Davis – tenor saxophone; Jewel L. Grant – alto saxophone; Billy Hadnot – bass; Ralph Hamilton – bass; Lorenzo holden – alto saxophone’ Willard Mc Daniel – piano; Jack McVea – tenor saxophone; Bumps Meyers – tenor saxophone; Jake “Vernon” Porter – trumpet; Jesse Price – drums; Jesse Sailes – drums; Maurice Simon – tenor saxophone; Floyd Turnham – alto saxophone, baritone saxophone; Charles Waller – tenor saxophone)
It is difficult to fathom the breadth of B.B. King’s legacy. Widely considered to be one of the most influential guitarists of all time, he is the embodiment of the blues connection to modern music. In the forties, he began his recording career with none other than future Sun Records founder Sam Phillips. His legend is steeped in historical and anecdotal contexts. (As a dance hall was burning, King rushed back into the blaze to rescue his beloved guitar, which he then named Lucille after the woman who inspired the incident.). During the 1950s he became a fixture on the R&B circuit with a succession of hits including “Everyday I Have The Blues”, “Sweet Little Angel” “3 O’clock Blues”, You Know I Love You” and “Woke Up This Morning”.
King became a legitimate crossover success with the release of “The Thrill Is Gone” (off his 1969 album, Completely Well. The single charted on both the pop and R&B charts. That year he opened for the Rolling Stones, and everyone became familiar with King. He was an icon to the rock and roll establishment, recording with U2 (Rattle and Hum) and Eric Clapton (Riding With The King). He has recorded and performed with the finest of jazz, blues, folk and world musicians. Not surprisingly, he was inducted into the Blues Hall Of Fame (1980) and The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame (1987). At eighty-six years of age…he still performs!
Singin’ The Blues, originally released (on Crown records) in 1957 is a compilation of King’s early rhythm and blues career. More than a retrospective, it is a glimpse into the golden age of this unique hybrid genre. The opening track, “Please Love Me” introduces the jagged guitar and high pitched vocals that define blues. The relation to jump music is evident on “You Upset Me Baby”. Reminiscent of Louis Jordan or Ray Charles, the musical flow swings, and is augmented by a saucy tenor saxophone run. King’s signature fluid string-bending solos established a template for most guitar players over the next twenty years. There are plenty of horns on the arrangements. “Woke Up This Morning” has a latin or calypso groove. The horn chorus could be from a piece by Ellington or Basie.
There are slower vamps like “3 O’clock Blues” which manifests a mournful New Orleans vibe. The sole cover, Memphis Slim’s “Everyday I Have The Blues,” is gritty with a barrelhouse piano and nasty guitar licks. This is jukebox music…concise and dynamic. “Blind Love” is indicative of the urban context of the music. Again King delivers a blistering solo. It is easy to see the emergence of an important musical figure.
As with many blues artists, there is a mysterious, shared writing credit (Most likely, this is attributable to label executives angling for royalties). Pure Pleasure Records has maintained the grainy tone of the original mono recordings. But King’s passionate singing and vibrato-laced guitar work is preserved. Singin’ The Blues is more than an album…it is an historical document!
TrackList:
Side One: Please Love Me; You Upset Me Baby; Every Day I Have The Blues; Bad Luck; 3 O’Clock Blues; Blind Love
Side Two: Woke Up This Morning; You Know I Love You; Sweet Little Angel; Ten Long Years; Did You Ever Love A Woman; Crying Won’t Help You
–Robbie Gerson
by John Sunier | Apr 26, 2012 | Pop/Rock/World CD Reviews
Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real – Wasted – Tone Tide Records 858606040322–80 min. ****:
(Lukas Nelson–lead vocal, electric & acoustic guitar; Tato Melgar–percussion & sound effects; Anthony Logerfo–drums; Corey McCormick–bass & vocals; Micah Nelson–live visuals & artwork)
If Poncho and Lefty had a baby; Lukas Nelson would be that progeny. From getting “Wasted” with David Letterman to hosting Yahoo.com concerts, Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real are taking the alt country genre to the masses, and quickly. Wasted, the third release for Lukas Nelson and POTR has the making of a pop chart-busting album with the charisma to push the likes of 80s greatest hits albums and flaky rock albums out of the top 200 where they belong.
Travelling the country in a bus; writing, living and singing about good times with some pals is what this album is all about. Wasted gives off a jam band vibe similar to Widespread Panic. The use of percussion balanced with the stellar lead guitar play and Nelson’s standout vocals deliver 80 minutes of great tunes.
From the opening track Golden Rule right on through to the end, the highlights on Wasted are Aint No Answer with its foot rocking beats and Jimmy Buffet vibes, Don’t Take Me Back lends a swinging flow and I Won’t Fail Her slows it down for the mellow buzz lovers.
TrackList:
Golden Rule
Old Familiar Pain
Aint No Answer
Frame of Mind
Don’t Take Me Back
Wasn’t that Great
Time Is…
Running Away
Heart of the Matter
Can You Hear Me Love You?
I Won’t Fail Her
Wasted
If I Was the Ocean
—Paul Pelon IV
by John Sunier | Apr 26, 2012 | SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
ANTON BRUCKNER: Symphony No. 4 in E flat Major, “Romantic” (1874-80) – London Symphony Orchestra/ Bernard Haitink – LSO Live multichannel SACD LSO0716, 69:08 [Distr. by Naxos] *****:
Boy, has Bruckner ever been covered in the SACD format—perhaps even more so than Mahler. Stands to reason—the complexities of both composers have been ideal for music in surround ever since the first recordings on quad tape became available. Bruckner’s Fourth is probably his most popular symphony, most pastoral, and most Austrian. It was his only symphony given its subtitle by the composer himself, who wanted to associate it with medieval romance, hunting and enchanted woods—something in the style of his much-admired Wagner’s operas. Bruckner also wrote some rather corny programmatic descriptions for each movement, but no one pays any attention to those today, considering them just part of the composer’s over-weaning efforts to please friends and critics by constantly “correcting” and changing his scores.
The magical horn call which opens the symphony was inspired by Beethoven’s Ninth, and in Bruckner’s program it was the horn playing the morning call sounds from the city towers. The first and last movements are the longest of the symphony and both are in E flat major, whereas the Andante second movement is in C minor and the brief scherzo in B flat major. The Scherzo doesn’t need a program description to realize it could be a hunting scene, and there is an imitation of a barrel-organ in it. Everything comes together in the finale. Symphonist Robert Simpson sees the first three movements as layers to be removed as an archaeological dig to get to the city below – the work’s finale. Bruckner’s orchestration of towering orchestral unisons using elements from the earlier movements is most impressive.
I’ve been something of a stickler with preferring Günter Wand’s recordings of the Bruckner symphonies, though I only have the RCA standard CD versions rather than the expensive BMG Japan series of SACDs (both with the Berlin Philharmonic). But I think I’ve found an even better version in Haitink’s No. 4, not to mention the improved sonics and surround. Mariss Jansons/ Concertgebouw on RCO Live (combined on two discs with No. 3) is also a fine SACD, but the interior voices sometimes sound a bit run together vs. Haitink, especially in the brass section. Haitink is slightly slower, running two minutes longer than Janson’s timing, but doesn’t lack snap and excitement at all.
—John Sunier
by John Sunier | Apr 26, 2012 | Classical Reissue Reviews
Clemens Krauss conducts RICHARD STRAUSS = Till Eulenspiegel, Op. 28; Tod und Verklaerung, Op. 24; Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme Suite, Op. 60 – Orch. del Teatro alla Scala (Op. 28)/ London Philharmonic Orch. (Op. 24)/ Vienna Philharmonic Orch./ Clemens Krauss – Dutton CDBP 9816, 70:45 [Distr. by Harmonia mundi] ****:
Clemens Krauss (1893-1954) maintained a close relationship with composer Richard Strauss, his having assumed the leadership at the National Theatre Munich after Hans Knappertsbusch resigned. In Berlin, Krauss resumed preparations for Arabella in 1935 after Fritz Busch had abdicated his post at the Berlin State Opera in anti-Nazi protest. Though Krauss (and Strauss) made an uneasy peace with National Socialism, neither seems to have been politically savvy; and for his possible service to Jews seeking to escape persecution during the war, Krauss was able to pick up his career in 1947. Though nearly always associated with either the Vienna Philharmonic or Bayreuth, this collection from Dutton provides us some alternative ensemble in the Krauss legacy.
Verve and orchestral virtuosity reign in Krauss readings of Richard Strauss, and the Till Eulenspiegel from Milan (23 July 1947) proves the rule. Lighthearted and brilliantly accented, the various antics and misadventures of the picaresque Till virtually sing and frolic in quicksilver relief, the La Scala woodwinds and brass quite energized. The screech of Till’s hanging and the subsequent “moral” at the coda graphically illustrate the Krauss penchant for making orchestral colors.
Having been invited to Britain in late 1947, Krauss inscribed Death and Transfiguration with the London Philharmonic (19-20 December 1947). Oboe, violin, and harp set the tone, with palpitating strings, of the dying protagonist of Ritter’s poem. The visceral response Krauss elicits from the LPO quite justifies the ensemble’s splendid repute as a bravura ensemble, especially when its colors could be exploited by the likes of Beinum, Boult, and Krauss. The throes of clinging life become intensely feverish and convulsive, as required. With the entry of the flute over muted strings, Krauss indulges in the arch-like reminiscence of the piece, its dance-like nostalgia for springtime and youth. The periods become broadly expressive, so much more to prolong life in its archetypal struggle against dissolution. When release does come, the soul has not gone gently into that good night, but has fought its last heroic battle, destroyed but not defeated. The Transfiguration, however, appears thoroughly natural and unforced, a truly lyrical transition to that continent from whose bourn no traveler returns.
Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal collaborated in a 1917 revival of Moliere’s play of 1670 with commedia dell’arte troupe and incidental music. The nine-movement Suite, prepared by Strauss in 1920, means to capture the spirit of the abridged play, whose 1912 production had proven a failure. Dutton restores the Krauss inscription from 28-31 October 1929, whose magical luster remains intact. Musically, the fascination lies in the composer’s effective invocation of Baroque sounds both large and intimate, even going so far as to rescore music by Lully in three of the sections. The lithe sophistication of the score and its silken realization by Krauss remind us of Stravinsky’s epithet for Strauss, calling him the “great connoisseur.”
—Gary Lemco
by John Sunier | Apr 25, 2012 | Classical CD Reviews
Viktoria Mullova – The Peasant Girl – Viktoria Mullova, violin/ The Matthew Barley Ensemble – Onyx 4070 (2 CDs), 90:31 [Distr. by Harmonia mundi] ***1/2:
Cellist Matthew Barley is Viktoria Mullova’s husband, and moves in somewhat more improvisational-based circles than Mullova, though she shows a decided interest in jazz and other genres. This album is based on what might loosely be called the Gypsy influence, with some connection tied in to either the composers or the players or both. Mullova herself considers the influence not insubstantial as it reflects her Ukrainian country roots, only several generations away from working the land herself, according to the notes.
Unfortunately, as is often the case in these mixed genre albums, the idea that this is “music that is blissfully free from the misleading shackles of genre” rarely holds sway. Third Stream music is always going to be plagued by the very real concern that each genre fails to enrich the other, or at the very worst lessens the quality and impact of each. You can’t assume that opera and rock music automatically merge seamlessly; though there are some notable exceptions, these are just that—exceptions—and hardly the rule. The same applies with almost any other two genres you might care to name, and here we are given three, some performed pristinely, others combined into a rather incongruous mixture. In most cases on this album the combos are at the very least acceptable, but it must be said that in the case of Mullova her improvisations are not convincing whereas her “classical” contributions, like the amazing Bartok Duo, Op. 7, are.
So while most of the jazz pieces are innocuous, they can also seem a bit trite. This whole album, spread over two CDs, could have lost 10 minutes to fit onto one. Mullova’s classical readings are flawless, but comparing her jazz outings to the best that the jazz world has to offer is simply not fair to either of them. Onyx gives her lovely sound. Many might like this, especially fans of mixed genre, and you know who you are.
TrackList:
1 – DuOud arr. Matthew Barley: For Nedim (For Nadia)
2 – John Lewis/Bratsch arr. Barley: Django
3 – Florian Hermann arr. Barley: Dark Eyes
4 – Bratsch arr. Barley: Er Nemo Klantz with Bartók duos
No.7 – Walachian Song; No.11 – Pillow Dance and No.44 – Transylvanian Dance
5 – Weather Report (Joe Zawinul) arr. Barley: The Peasant 9.34
6 – Béla Bartók: Duos with improvisations;
7 Duos for violin and cello (from 44 Duos for two violins):
No.10 – Ruthenian Song; No.22 – Mosquito Dance; No.33 – Harvest Song, No.28 – Sorrow; No.26 – Teasing Song; No.11 – Cradle Song, No.35 – Ruthenian Kolomeika
7 – Matthew Barley (on a Russian folk theme – Lyuba): Yura
8 – Bratsch arr. Barley: Bi Lovengo
9 – Weather Report (Joe Zawinul) arr. Barley: The Pursuit of the Woman with the Feathered Hat
10 – Youssou N’Dour: Life
11 – Zoltán Kodály: Duo for violin and cello op.7 (1914)
—Steven Ritter
by John Sunier | Apr 25, 2012 | DVD & Blu-ray Video Reviews
MONTEVERDI: L’incoronatione di Poppea (complete opera), Blu-ray (2011)
Orchestra of the Norwegian National Opera/ Alessandro De Marchi
Cast: Brigitte Poppea – Brigitte Christensen / Nerone – Jacek Laszczkowski / Ottone – Tim Mead / Virtú & Drusilla – Marita Sølberg / Ottavia – Patricia Bardon / Amore – Amelie Aldenheim / Fortuna – Ina Kringlebotn / Nutrice – Tone Kruse / Seneca – Giovanni Battista Parodi
Studio: EuroArts 2058924 [Distr. by Naxos]
Video: 1080i Full HD 16:9
Audio: PCM Stereo
Subtitles: English/Italian/German/French/Japanese/Norwegian
Length: 180 minutes
Rating: ***1/2
Scholars aren’t certain that L’incoronatione di Poppea is altogether, or even at all, the work of Monteverdi. To begin with, the original score for the Venice premiere of 1643 does not exist. Instead, it has come down to us through two copies from the 1650s. Apparently, neither score nor any other contemporary document mentions Monteverdi. Besides this, Monteverdi would have been seventy-six at the time of the opera’s creation and in declining health; in fact, he died in November of that year. The feat of turning out an opera of such length and musical distinction seems nearly impossible under the circumstances, and indeed it is conjectured that Monteverdi had a hand in the opera but also substantial help from one or more colleagues—perhaps a “studio” of apprentice composers in the fashion of Renaissance masters and their painterly little helpers.
Whatever the provenance of the opera, it is groundbreaking in its portrayal of actual historical figures rather than mythical ones and also in its moral obliquity, for which we can credit librettist Francesco Busenello. It’s probably hard not to be morally oblique when celebrating the nuptials of so depraved a guy as the Emperor Nero and the crowning of his new consort, the unscrupulous Poppea. Along the way, the relative innocents of the story—Poppea’s former lover, Ottone; Empress Ottavia; the patrician Drussilla; and Nerone’s tutor, the noble Seneca—all end up damaged or destroyed.
Following the Aristotelian concept of unity of time in drama, Busenello telescopes a great deal of action into the space of twenty-four hours. Hence, poor old Seneca the Younger (young at this point only by way of epithet), who in actuality was involved in a conspiracy to assassinate Nero, is in the opera merely accused by Poppea of disloyalty. Dramatically, this kills two birds with one stone, suggesting Poppea’s unscrupulous thirst for fame and fortune and the grounds for Seneca’s demise: as in history, Nerone demands Seneca’s suicide, and Seneca complies by slitting his wrists in the bath. Nasty stuff.
And nastily portrayed in this production of L’incoronatione. As David Patmore writes in his brief but efficient notes, “The characters and their actions are highly problematic, and the immediate dramatic message of the opera is at best ambiguous and at worst perverted. Many commentators have noted the work’s extraordinary glorification of lust and ambition. All these aspects are presented in the strongest possible light by this new production from Norway.” That last is something of an understatement. In fact, the only thing this production lacks is subtlety. It has enough of lust, ambition, and blood. Buckets of the stuff. By the end of the opera, the white concave space on which the action takes place is festooned with streamers of blood, and Poppea’s gown is hemmed in blood. In addition, the sets and costumes are mostly rendered in shades of black and white, while the whole is filmed in such a way that most of the color is leached out of the visuals—with the exception of that ever-accumulating red.
Since we all know many of the low points of Nero’s brief and bloody career, sticking our noses in it seems unnecessary, and I vote for a bit more subtlety. But if you’re going to go for the Grand-Guignol treatment, you might as well do it to the hilt, and thus the current production is a success, given its aims. Male soprano Jacek Laszczkowski, who plays Nerone, is the pop-eyed essence of the power-mad tyrant; he both sings and acts up a storm in the role. Amore, ironic guardian angel of the lovers Poppea and Nerone, is a frightening admixture of the innocent and the demonic. Diminutive soprano Amelie Aldenheim wears silk pajamas and holds a teddy bear throughout the opera, but her facial features, with some help from lighting and makeup, has the aspect of a death’s head, with a wide, sadistic grin.
Some of the action borders on the slapstick, which isn’t really amiss given the over-the-top nature of the production. Giovanni Battista Parodi’s Seneca, whose infirmity is suggested by walking with the aid of a pair of canes, undergoes the indignity of having his supports kicked out from under him and a resultant pratfall. On the other hand, some of the characters escape with most of their dignity intact. Patricia Bardon is a stately and tragic Ottavia, while Tim Mead and Marita Sølberg are attractive and sympathetic as the new pair of lovers, Ottone and Drusilla.
Given what I’ve said so far, the one odd bit of casting would seem to be Brigitte Christensen as Poppea. Her ample figure looks just a bit incongruous beside the rail-thin Jacek Laszczkowski. But more, on occasion her features are benign to the point of girl-next-door sweetness, which also doesn’t quite jibe. Danielle de Niese, on a rival version of the opera from Glyndebourne (on Decca), seems to capture the essence of Poppea more effectively, having a kittenish seductiveness that can easily turn into something much more sinister. In fact, if you want a more subtle and modulated production of the opera, the Decca version is a very good choice—though as fine as her singing and acting is, it’s hard for me to fully accept tow-headed soprano Alice Coote as Nero.
But back to the current production. The singing of the principals and the majority of the minor players is mostly very good although Laszczkowski’s accurate but piercing soprano is probably an acquired taste. Both countertenor Tim Mead and soprano Ina Kringlebotn as Dame Fortune use just a bit too much vibrato to portray their different mental states—grief and egotistical self-satisfaction respectively. But Patricia Bardon and the sepulchrally deep-voiced Giovanni Battista Parodi bring distinguished vocalizations to their roles. And Tone Kruse’s Nutrice is both well sung and quite amusing.
As to the orchestral accompaniment, the manuscript copies from the 1650s contain three or four instrumental lines plus the continuo part, so to bring the score to the stage, additional instrumentation is needed. I find Alessandro De Marchi’s realization effective, as is his conducting and the playing of a select group from the Norwegian National Opera. (However, why the opera is recorded in stereo only instead of lossless surround sound escapes me.) So musically at least, this production is mostly satisfying. Reactions to the spare scenery and buckets-of-blood production values will be up to individual tastes, of course. For me, this is not a first choice but when I’m in the mood, an interesting alternative.
—Lee Passarella
by John Sunier | Apr 25, 2012 | SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
RACHMANINOFF: Symphonic Dances; STRAVINSKY: Symphony in Three Movements – London Sym. Orch./ Valery Gergiev – LSO Live multichannel SACD LO0688, 58:33 [Distr. by Naxos] *****:
Valery Gergiev is one of the most exciting conductors recording today. His previous Rachmaninoff Second Symphony for LSO Live was a knockout, and both of these symphonic works will likely take first place of multichannel options. In addition to his wide-ranging work with all aspects of the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg, Gergiev has whipped up the London Symphony to be virtuosi just like the Berlin Philharmonic and other European orchestras.
Some have said Gergiev’s interpretations are rushed, but his tempi in Rachmaninoff’s last and perhaps greatest orchestral work are actually slower than some of the competition. He plays up the composer’s quotations of his favored deathly Dies Irae and generally delivers a darker version of the score than from others. He gets more powerful percussion accents than anybody else; audiophiles will go wild.
In general Gergiev makes the Symphonic Dances—which have been getting considerable recorded attention lately—sound fresh and even more of a masterpiece than they seemed before. I got out my 96/24 Classic Records DVD of the famous Dallas Symphony version with Donald Johanos, which has also been released as a stereo SACD and 45 rpm vinyl by Analogue Productions. I know this is regarded as one of the super-great audiophile classical recordings, but Gergiev’s new SACD knocks it dead. The Dallas recording sounds almost like a chamber version, miked too closely, and has an annoying low tone continuing thru the entire recording. The recent Reference Recordings vinyl reissue of Eiji Oue’s version with the Minnesota Orchestra is better sonics, but next to Gergiev’s intensity sounds rather laid back. This would be my vote for Multichannel Disc of the Month if we hadn’t already chosen the Pink Floyd.
Pairing the Rachmaninoff with the Stravinsky Symphony is pure genius; don’t think that’s been done before, and it makes perfect sense. Gergiev accents the jagged edges of this neoclassical work, clearly a reflection of the composer’s concerns over WWII, which was going on as he wrote it. But it’s not menacing—just has some of the same darkness—as well as an athletic urgency—as heard in the Symphonic Dances. I always wait with bated breath for the final Hollywood-style concluding chord—Stravinsky’s very own little musical V-Day.
—John Sunier
![The Sound of Jazz – Soundtrack from 1957 CBS-TV Special – [TrackList follows] Columbia/ Pure Pleasure Records vinyl](https://dev.audaud.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/TheSoundOfJazzLP.jpg)
