by Audiophile Audition | Sep 30, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
The Lily and the Rose = Works by John Cooke, Walter Frye, Guillaume Le Rouge, John Bedyngham, John Dunstaple, Thomas Damett—The Binchois Consort (Timothy Travers-Brown, James Hall, altos; Dominic Bland, Nichoals Madden, George Pooley, Matthew Vine, tenors)—Hyperion Records CDA68228—73:00 [Distr. by PIAS] *****:
Stepping into the repertoire of early music, especially so of the late Medieval and early Renaissance periods, always requires an adjustment for me. The sound world—including the vocal performance style in this recording, the modes, and the style of writing together—is one far removed for most of us. It is special for this reason, that it can evoke a very different time and place. The Binchois Consort is an excellent vocal ensemble and perform music by Cooke, Frye, Dunstaple, Plummer, and others with great care and beauty in this album, The Lily and the Rose.
The project started with alabaster art housed or cataloged by Nottingham Castle, the University of Nottingham, and the University of Birmingham. “One of the chief purposes of all the music sung in proximity to the alabaster images, as also of the brilliant pigments, the translucency and texture of the stone, and the (expensive) light of burning wax candles that accompanied them, was to vivify the experience of the whole physical context—and of the devotions it served—for all those present,” they write in the album’s liner notes. And in this visual art and music context, the album’s booklet becomes very important, with the reproduction of the stone carvings in color. Pieces, then, were chosen around the Marian themes such as the Annunciation, the Assumption and Coronation, and the intercession against plague.
The pairing of music and visuals also helps us to see the stylistic discord from our current time with ancient art. Combining media in this way is an interesting way to move the listener closer in time to the music. This anchoring is important from an academic standpoint, but too from a more purely artistic one. This music is art that served a function beyond tickling the ears.
The Binchois do not rush at all in their performances. Hyperion has captured their sound closely, producing a quite transparent result: the texts are all easily heard. In many plainchant recordings, the sound is recorded farther away and the ensemble’s sound is notoriously messy. The Binchois too are to be commended for a very consistent vocal style from among the ensemble of up to six singers (two alto, four tenor). In the performance of chant, they are lock-step together. Harmony, too, is sure, a result of excellent intonation between parts.
Music so far removed from our own sound world does become somewhat specialist in nature. Chant and polyphony isn’t going to be of supreme interest to a wide audience, and admittedly, my own exposure to this repertoire was concentrated some years ago with intense study in music history courses in college. That said, in small doses for me, this music is of exquisite beauty, and I am hard pressed in exploring my collection of recordings to find any one recording or ensemble that matches the sonic clarity of the Binchois Consort. That they have worked as part of an multimedia project to bring text, art, and song together only demonstrates their commitment to helping us better appreciate this ancient art.
—Sebastian Herrera
Link — Binchois Consort
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 30, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
MOZART: Violin Concerto No. 4 in D Major, K. 218; Violin Concerto No. 5 in A Major, K. 219 “Turkish” – London Symphony Orchestra/ Nikolaj Znaider, violin and conductor – LSO Live LSO0807 (DSD), 50:28 (3/2/18) [Distr. by Harmonia mundi/PIAS] ****:
Nikolaj Znaider (b. 1975) assumes the mantle of such violinist-conductors as Nathan Milstein and Wolfgang Schneidehahn, who likewise directed the Mozart 1775 violin concertos from their chosen instrument. These two performances—18 December 2016 (K. 218) and 14 May 2017 (K. 219)—from the Barbican Centre, London, project a warm intimacy, a modest salon atmosphere rather than anything suggesting the imposing, large concert hall venue. The D Major Concerto—which first came to me via Oistrakh and Ormandy—projects a soft, militant fanfare that evolves into a continuous flow of melodic invention. In my experience, only Jiri Novak (with Vaclav Talich) take the Andante cantabile at the brisk, walking tempo that Mozart indicates; others tend to romanticize the excursion, making its high register urgency a seamless love song. For the last movement, a French rondeau, Znaider adds turns as he sees fit, adding to the pastoral dance a rustic, improvised flavor. The delicately, tip-toe approach to the Allegro ma non troppo and its bagpipe effects works quite well, even pointing to kind of violin sound Grieg favors in his incidental music. The cadenza passage from Znaider seems a variation on the opening theme from Schubert’s Fifth Symphony!
Mozart
The Fifth Concerto from 20 December 1775 raises the bar for virtuosity and athletic diversity of style. The opening of the first movement, Allegro aperto – Adagio, appears dreamy and subdued, for at least six measures, until the music bursts forth in a series of upward, sweeping gestures topped by trills and festive figures for strings and horns. The second marking of aperto now assumes its “bold” and “assertive” connotation, and the slo and strings engage in a series of playful colloquies that no less sail into the winds and horns. The brilliant sound of Znaider’s 1741 “Kreisler” Guarnerius del Gesu projects a ravishing luster here, as well as in the D Major Concerto, courtesy of Producer Andrew Cornall.
The expansive Adagio has, in my listening experience, had few rivals to the combination of Oistrakh and Mitropoulos live in New York, but Znaider brings a decided, introspective intimacy to the occasion. The long line reigns, and the unbroken harmony between Znaider and LSO works its own magic. The Rondeau: Tempo di menuetto last movement combines suave violin proficiency with inspired humor, Mozart’s having incorporated the Janissary elements of his ballet La gelosie del Seraglio into his concerto texture, so as to effect a “Turkish” confection with Hungarian impulses. The melody leaps, while the rhythm receives the percussive col legno taps in the cellos and basses. Znaider intones moments both of lyrical swagger and dervish wildness into his delivery, and so convincing us that the Mozart style and Znaider realize a well-wrought kinship.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 29, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews, Pop/Rock/World CD Reviews
Andy Biskin and 16 Tons – Songs from the Alan Lomax Collection – Andorfin ANDRF-007, 54:54 [6/27/18] ****:
Folk songs passed on from generation to generation have infused nearly every aspect of modern music from classical to rock, so it’s no surprise jazz musicians have mined folk territory for inspiration since the start of jazz. Jazz clarinetist Andy Biskin is no stranger to American folk music. He began as an anthropologist and spent two years working with legendary folklorist and musicologist Alan Lomax. Biskin’s 2006 effort, Early American: The Melodies of Stephen Foster used Foster’s folk-ish compositions as a bedrock for jazz interpretation. Now, Biskin has come full circle on his 54-minute project, Songs from the Alan Lomax Collection, credited to his new band called 16 Tons, named after Merle Travis’ classic hit single. In some ways, this is an album long in the making, since the process slowly gestated over decades until it reached fruition after Biskin read John Szwed’s 2010 tome, Alan Lomax: The Man Who Recorded the World. Biskin says, “I realized the time had come to take another look at Alan’s legacy and see if I could find my own voice in the music he championed.” Szwed’s book pushed Biskin to finally spend time with Lomax’s huge 1960 anthology, The Folk Songs of North America and to start playing songs from Lomax’s book. Biskin explains, “The challenge I gave myself was to convey the essence of the music without a singer. I wanted an ensemble that could mimic the call and response of a vocal group, that could play both gently and brash, that could sound relaxed and ragged or as tight as a dance band.” The resulting quintet and their debut record includes Biskin on clarinet and bass clarinet, Rob Garcia on drums and John Carlson, Dave Smith and Kenny Warren’s three trumpets. Smith’s trumpet is in the right channel; Carlson is in the center; and Warren is in the left channel. No banjo, no guitar, no bass and no singer. The unconventional upshot is delightfully unexpected versions of well-known favorites such as “Down in the Valley,” “Tom Dooley” and 11 more folk songs. Biskin’s methodology was to intertwine the material with his own melodies and short improvisations.
Biskin opens and closes with the 1850’s piece, “Sweet Betsy from Pike,” which chronicles a pioneer couple who head west to seek a fortune during the California Gold Rush. Biskin avows, “It’s a melody so perfect it needs no embellishment or accompaniment.” Each trumpeter takes a turn soloing on the sublime and lyrical melody and the trumpets and clarinet also crisscross harmonically. “Sweet Betsy from Pike” is reprised at the CD’s conclusion as a brief outro. Biskin and his group hit a swinging stride on “Grey Goose,” done by everyone from Nirvana to folk singer Burl Ives. Contemporary film buffs might recognize it from 2009’s animated film feature, Fantastic Mr. Fox. During “Grey Goose” Biskin and 16 Tons jump between several melodic changes to underscore the bird’s sly ways of eluding getting eaten. Another fine track is the lengthy “Blue Tail Fly,” an 1840’s minstrel song reportedly well-liked by Abraham Lincoln. “Blue Tail Fly” is upbeat, bright and full of brassy enthusiasm and cheery improvisational moments.
Andy Biskin
© Rebecca Greenfield
Biskin also modifies some folk songs which have dark undertones. “Down in the Valley” is a traditional country-blues tune—about a convict stuck in a Southern prison cell—which has been recorded by Ives, the Grateful Dead’s Jerry Garcia and others. Biskin arranges “Down in the Valley” in a somber, melancholy way with smidgeons of lighter shades. There’s a similar atmosphere to the lesser-known “House Carpenter,” which focuses on a sailor who seduces a house carpenter’s wife, who discovers too late that her new lover is the devil in disguise. Infidelity and accompanying revenge or retribution also coalesces on the ironically jaunty “Tom Dooley,” a 1958 number one hit for the Kingston Trio and subsequently covered by Neil Young, the Carolina Chocolate Drops and more. Biskin blends the Kingston Trio’s arrangement with the earlier 1929 Grayson and Whitter version. During the introduction, the trumpets emulate the harmonica from Doc Watson’s 1964 translation.
Biskin was also stimulated by hymns, specifically the older “Am I Born to Die?” which emanates from the sacred harp, shape-note tradition. The three trumpets and clarinet magically merge to mirror a four-part vocal harmony which comes from shape-note musical conventions. Garcia maintains a firm jazz foundation which the horns ride atop. Biskin and 16 Tons final, full track is the optimistic “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain,” based on an old spiritual, although the piece is often associated with railroads. “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain” is a joyous and imaginative combination of folk and jazz, swings like crazy, and is an excellent example of how the three trumpets and the lone clarinet interact with aplomb, self-assurance and delightful demeanor. Biskin was also impelled to write something in the same, folksy vein, the eight-minute “Go Fish,” loosely kindled by folk themes. “Go Fish” has a slow, bluesy backdrop and a steady rhythm which affords space and room for the drums, trumpets and clarinet to converse and improvise. Hopefully, Biskin will continue to find encouragement from the numerous folk songs Lomax recorded and catalogued. Maybe next time the ensemble will tackle Travis’ tune which gave them their name.
Performing Artists:
Andy Biskin – clarinet, bass clarinet, producer, arranger; John Carlson, Dave Smith, Kenny Warren – trumpet; Rob Garcia – drums
TrackList:
Sweet Betsy from Pike
Gray Goose
Blue Tail Fly
Down in the Valley
House Carpenter
Go Fish
Lily Munroe
Tom Dooley
Muskrat
Knock John Booker
Am I Born to Die?
She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain
Sweet Betsy from Pike
—Doug Simpson
Link to more info and track samples:
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 28, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews
Stokowski: Wartime NBC Performances = COPLAND: Short Symphony; MOHAUPT: Concerto for Orchestra; LAVALLE: Symphonic Rhumba; HANSON: Symphony No. 4 “Requiem,” Op. 34; AMFITHEATROF: De profundi climavi; ANTHEIL: Symphony No. 4 “1942”; SCHOENBERG: Piano Concerto, Op. 42 – Eduard Steuemann, piano/ NBC Symphony Orchestra/ Leopold Stokowski – Pristine Audio PASC 536 (2 CDs) TT: 2:16:23 [www.pristineclassical.com] *****:
Andrew Rose luminously restores a series of performances by the NBC Symphony, 1942-1944, under the leadership of Leopold Stokowski, who relished the idea of “first performances” and “debuts.” Aaron Copland’s Symphony No. 2 “Short Symphony” (1933) tends to formalism and abstract gestures, much in the manner of Stravinsky. Stokowski (9 January 1944) gives its rhythmically intricate vitality a broad range of expression, within a lean, acerbically jarring series of gestures, especially in the outer movements. Stokowski had wanted to premiere the work earlier, after its debut under Carlos Chavez in Mexico, but the virtuosity required by the piece demanded excessive rehearsal time. Despite its imposing complexity, the scoring remains rather transparent, with no tuba, trombones, or percussion. The second movement projects a grudging lyricism. The last movement has hints of El Salon Mexico. Copland felt unhappy about this performance, which he labeled “inadequate.” You need not agree.
Richard Mohaupt (1904-1957) had to emigrate from Germany to America in 1939 to avoid Nazi persecution, since they had already outlawed his work. He wrote the three-movement Concerto for Orchestra (On Red Army Songs) in 1943, a piece that surely would have fallen into what the Nazis had labeled “Music Bolshevism.” This world premiere performance under Stokowski (19 December 1943) reveals a moody, polyphonic work, much in the Hindemith syntax, although with a more spontaneous lyrical element. The Red Army Songs pay tribute to the music that accompanied the 1917 Revolutionary period. The second movement, Largo, features a duet between oboe and clarinet over a pedal point. The flute takes up the melodic contour, which soon fills out rather sentimentally but dramatically, perhaps in a “Hollywood” vein. The last movement Vivace displays a decided gift for counterpoint and swaggering syncopation. The clamor and resolve of the last pages has something of Respighi’s grandiosity.
Paul Lavalle (1908-1997) gleaned considerable prestige as a clarinetist in the NBC Symphony as well arranging scores and conducting a wide variety of ensembles. His work in Cuba gave birth to his 1939 Symphonic Rhumba, here performed by Stokowski (6 December 1942) in its world premiere. The mesmerizing textures of this effective piece keep our feet tapping and ears scintillated. The concertante piano apart contributes as much as the rest of the NBC battery to the tropical flavors of this piece. When the clarinet shines through, it’s the composer himself at the licorice.
Howard Hanson’s 1943 Fourth Symphony memorializes his father, and it received a Pulitzer Prize in 1944. Each of the four movements bears the title of a section of the requiem mass. Stokowski (2 January 1944) and the NBC deliver a decided gravitas to the occasion. Hanson develops the Kyrie first movement’s octave horn-leap and the succeeding theme for the cello so as to make a convincing statement. The slow movement (Requiescat) that follows utilizes the two themes of the first movement, but proceeds through impressive, organic growth. The thickly textured lyricism has something of Shostakovich in its power. The Dies Irae (Presto) movement combines the structural forms of the two preceding movements in a persuasive evocation of the cruelty of death, via Saint-Saens crossed fertilized by Orff and Stravinsky. The last movement (Lux aeterna: Largo pastorale) achieves a sense of consolation and a degree of mysticism through a synthesis of the preceding material.
Leopold Stowkowski
Carnegie Hall, 1947
Daniele Amfitheatrof (1901-1983), noted for film scores, wrote De profundis clamavi (perf. 20 February 1944, in its world premiere) as a tribute to those who had lost their lives across the seas in Europe. Both highly dramatic and lyrically anguished, the score gathers a tremendous sonority from Stokowski, a real sense of poignant Romanticism. The latter page reveals a militancy that clearly invokes the Fascist menace. We might recall that for two months Amfitheatrof served with Dimitri Mitropoulos at the Minneapolis Symphony, and that Mitropoulos had conducted American Panorama in Turin in 1937.
George Antheil (1900-1959), once known as an enfant terrible in music, maintains his reputation via one major work, his Ballet Micanique (1926), that established his relationship with “futurism.” The Symphony No. 4 “1942” grew out of his career as a war correspondent for the Los Angeles Daily News, especially with his visions of Stalingrad, Lidice, Africa, the Pacific’s Wake Island, and other theaters of war. The last movement means to express some jubilation in Allied victory. The performance (13 February 1944) by Stokowski provides another world premiere, opening with a motto theme that proves through-composed, despite its protean character, which includes four changes of tempo in its exposition. The NBC piccolo intones over a martial theme, rather a call to arms. The latter pages of the Moderato – Allegro include woodblock punctuations, and triplets in the contrabassoons and basses.
The NBC violins take up the Allegro second movement, and the cellos intone a series of edgy 16ths. The texture thins out energetically, with some tricky trumpet riffs, only to lead to a melody Antheil himself labels “tragic.” Its development displays Antheil’s real penchant for song, if he so chooses. The introduction to the first movement reappears prior to a compressed recapitulation. The Scherzo – Presto embraces a martial, fugal figure much in the Shostakovich mode, the “joke’s” being the horror of war. The last movement, Allegro non troppo, has a frenetic, potpourri character of juxtaposed effects, alternately grim and triumphant. Throughout the restless energy occur any number of tempo changes, quite a demonstration of Stokowski and the NBC’s sheer musical versatility.
The Schoenberg one-movement Piano Concerto (1942) represents an anomaly in the serial composer’s output, since it “violates” several of his own procedures for 12-tone music by repeating notes and often “wandering” into tonal harmony. If anything, Schoenberg assumes a more “relaxed” mode for this composition, which meanders in its strictness to the very forms the composer established. With pianist Eduard Steuermann (1892-1964)—notorious for his stage fright—Stokowski delivers the world premiere (6 February 1944). While the “academics” of the score can be imposing, the waltz-like character of the opening Andante belies the tone-row construction that the composer subjects to divisions in tri-chords and hexa-chords. At times, the startling richness of the textures recalls Brahms, especially since the Concerto sub-divides its one movement into four sections; so, additionally, besides the Brahms B-flat Concerto, the Liszt A Major Concerto might be a near cousin. The Adagio movement projects a solemn, melancholy character. The Giocoso several times repeats the F-sharp, another of Liszt’s favorite keys. Virgil Thomson called the work “poetic and reflective,” and Stokowski, in his brief announcement states, “it is one of the landmarks of musical history.”
–Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 27, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews
Joshua Trinidad – In November – RareNoise RNR094 Vinyl and CD, 53:03 [3/30/18] ****:
(Joshua Trinidad – trumpet; Jacob Young – guitar; Ståle Liavik Solberg – drums, percussion)
There is a deliberate restraint to Denver-based Joshua Trinidad’s trumpet playing. Trinidad’s style is the opposite of the effusive attitude of bop—and by extension post-bop—players such as Dizzy Gillespie, Lee Morgan and others. Trinidad is closer in musical spirit to Norwegians like Mathias Eick and Nils Petter Molvær; and akin to Polish trumpeter Tomasz Stańko. In fact, Stańko (who passed away earlier this year) and his mood-ish ECM albums seem to have had an influence on Trinidad’s latest outing, the 53-minute, 11-track In November, issued via the UK label RareNoise. While RareNoise is known for loud, abrasive records, In November could easily be mistaken for an ECM release. There is an icy fluidity and overcast melancholy which permeates—but does not overwhelm—In November. Trinidad’s seventh record as a leader was released as an 180gms vinyl LP, multiple digital download formats and CD digipak. This review refers to the CD configuration.
Trinidad’s trio perfectly meshes with Trinidad’s original compositions. Guitarist Jacob Young— who shifts between acoustic and electric guitars—showcases myriad approaches from harder-edged and assertive amplified electric guitar runs to meditative instances on nylon-stringed acoustic guitar. Drummer/percussionist Ståle Liavik Solberg can equally move from pensive brushes and cymbals to more declarative drumming. Both Norwegians have a well-rounded musical background. Solberg has worked with Joe McPhee, John Butcher and Ingebrigt Håker Flaten. Young has recorded or performed with Larry Goldings, Molvær and numerous more. Trinidad’s résumé is even wider. He has played with artists ranging from Lee Konitz to a member of The Mars Volta, and from OK Go to The Bad Plus.
Joshua Trinidad Trio
In November
The cooler tunes have a relaxed calmness but also have nuanced disquiet. The interconnected “Bell (Hymn)” and “Bell (Lullaby)” flicker with glacial elegance. Young uses an ambient, effects-laced electric guitar during “Bell (Hymn),” producing a sometimes keyboard-esque grace which matches Trinidad’s textural trumpet. Young switches to ringing acoustic guitar on the quiet “Bell (Lullaby),” suggesting Ralph Towner and likeminded six-stringers. Young utilizes both acoustic and electric guitar on the immersive “Kin,” which has a visual and cinematic quality, like a soundtrack for a drone camera slowly moving across still waters. There is a less-is-more minimalism during “Giske,” named after the Norwegian island municipality where the band taped this session. The shaded and incandescent melodic tinges are landscaped by spare notes, Solberg’s delicate brushes and cymbals, and Young’s softly strummed electric guitar. There’s an equal amount of controlled malleability on the title track. The twilight-tinted piece is permeated by reflectiveness highlighted by suggestive harmonics. Young’s guitar hints at his former teacher John Abercrombie.
A few tunes have a raucous stance. The seven-minute opener, “Bedside,” showcases Solberg’s rock-inspired drumming while Young provides an open, electric blues timbre. Trinidad’s reverb-soaked trumpet rides above the stormy bedrock, his penetrating trumpet in contrast to Young’s brasher guitar and Solberg’s tempestuous percussion. There is also a discernable pop and/or rock characteristic to the five-minute “Feathers,” where Young supplies an electric guitar trait closer to alt-rock or blues-rock than typical jazz. “Feathers” has a more spontaneous spark—due mostly to Young—than other numbers, but never strays far from Trinidad’s obvious aesthetic. The album closes with two notable pieces. Trinidad delivers a liberated trumpet sound during “The Attic.” Trinidad stretches his notes while Young offers nominal, lingering notes or chords and Solberg uses meticulously-placed sticks. While “The Attic” has a moody setting, “Torreon” adjusts to something a bit nearer to measured jazz-rock due to Solberg’s orderly rhythm and Young’s flexible but deliberate electric guitar notes. As he does on all the tracks, Trinidad lifts above with his higher-ranging trumpet notes. If anyone is a fan of Scandinavian jazz which accentuates ambiance, atmosphere and gradual movement, Joshua Trinidad is someone to discover.
TrackList:
Bedside
Bell (Hymn)
Bell (Lullaby)
Feathers
Giske
In November
Kin
Morning Flight
Poem
The Attic
—Doug Simpson
Link for more info and tracks:
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 27, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews
Other Animal – Other Animal – Traumton 4661, 53:15 [2/2/18] ****:
(Peter Meyer – guitar, electronics, producer; Wanja Slavin – alto saxophone, synth, flute (track 1), clarinet (track 5); Bernhard Meyer – bass, producer; Jim Black – drums)
Other Animal restyles jazz and improvised music into a forward-looking form where genres are bent, shaped and slanted to construct distinctive music which holds no allegiance to specific genre rules. The cross-global quartet produces a whole other type of jazz. Berlin, Germany brothers Peter Meyer (guitar, electronics) and Bernhard Meyer (bass) and fellow Berliner Wanja Slavin (alto saxophone, synth, flute and clarinet) have teamed up with New York City-based drummer Jim Black to make what they call “alternative prog-jazz.” Basically, the foursome fuse components of improvised and jazz music, indie-rock and ambient touches to create modern jazz which is firmly seated both in the present and the future. The Meyers are best known for their nu jazz Melt Trio. Bernhard Meyer has performed or recorded with John Hollenbeck, Kurt Rosenwinkel and Anna Webber. Peter Meyer studied with Rosenwinkel and performed with other European musicians. Slavin has played alongside Joachim Kühn and Kenny Wheeler. Black’s credits include Tim Berne, Uri Caine, Ben Monder, Dave Douglas and many others.
Other Animal
The 12 tracks on Other Animal’s self-titled debut were written separately by the Meyer’s: seven by Peter and five by Bernhard. The material breaks free of vernacular limits, pushing jazz to interesting degrees of modernity. Jazz is at the forefront. But there are full elements of pop, prog and other genres which merge into the group’s musical aesthetic. Black supplies a solid breakbeat on opener “Drown Dreams.” He secures a straight but slightly sideways rock-tinted rhythm which helps sustain the tune’s attractive melody. Meanwhile, Slavin glides above on his alto sax; he also adds flute. Meyer’s electric guitar acts as a sheen and builds on the piece’s mid-tempo and digitized landscape. The group shows an icy slant on the slow-moving and moody “Name of Cold Country,” which has a spare bass line which parallel’s Black’s decelerated groove. Slavin’s melodious sax intermingles effectively with electronic effects and Peter Meyer’s guitar swashes. “Name of Cold Country” has some somewhat distorted harmonics which augment the piece’s wintery arrangement. There’s a similar melancholic demeanor on the appropriately titled “Downbear,” which has a liberal swath of unsettling effects. Black’s expressive and rhythmically free tempo provides an unstable foundation. The lack of a fixed groove means “Downbear” has a nearly spooky characteristic which is accentuated by Slavin’s vaporous clarinet. That eeriness also permeates the aptly-titled “Spectral,” which generates an aura of enigmatic sensations. During “Spectral” Slavin holds the higher registers with his skating alto sax while Peter Meyer layers darker-dinted guitar. On the other hand, the shortest cut, the alt-rock influenced “Mr Manga,” notches up the muscle with a persistently anomalous rhythmic configuration by Black and Bernhard Meyer, while Peter Meyer contributes a toughened guitar tone. The pulsing “Qubits” isn’t quite as resolute as “Mr Manga” but reveals a comparable alternative rock-fronted attribute. “Qubits” (the name comes from the physics term for quantum bits) maintains an imperturbable beat which is buttressed by tiered guitar and electronics. Slavin is once again the improvising highlight as he ascends on alto sax.
Irony is not lost on Other Animal. “Nongeniality”—despite a knotty time signature—is user-friendly although somewhat tricky to follow at times and displays sturdy melodic concepts emphasized by Slavin’s articulate soloing. And the edgy “E Dance” is a bit too down-tempo and downcast for dancing. The number begins with an unsteady guitar shimmer, a sometimes-machinelike tempo and an atmospheric denseness and then changes to an alt-prog intensity. Other Animal concludes with “Blim,” which deftly blends jazz, alternative and prog-rock. Meyer’s guitar is upfront and he solos instead of creating a wafting sonic backdrop; Slavin improvises as well on alto sax; and Black and Bernhard produce an advancing rhythmic terrain.
TrackList:
Drown Dreams
Name of Cold Country
Mr Manga
Stroy
Downbear
Nongeniality
Cloudline
E Dance
No Fruit
Spectral
Qubits
Blim
—Doug Simpson
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 26, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews, Jazz CD Reviews
Tord GUSTAVSEN trio: The Other Side – ECM 2608 – 53:29, (8/31/18) ****:
(Tord Gustavsen; piano, Sigurd Hole; bass, Jarle Vespestad; drum)
Michael Pollan’s pithy pronouncements on healthy food and eating are some of the defining memes of our time, “Don’t eat anything with more than five ingredients, or ingredients you can’t pronounce.” “Shop the periphery of the grocery store and stay out of the middle.” etc. In a search for economy, Pollan boiled these down into one epigram: “Eat food, mostly plants and not too much.” Parallel dictates might be derived from the music of Norwegian pianist Tord Gustavsen, whose style expresses its own didactic economy. “Play music, not too much, mostly melody.” For Pollan’s “Don’t forget the oily little fish,” we could substitute, “ Don’t forget the whole notes.” In fact, the more I listen to Gustavsen’s trio, the more it seems to inquire after verities by way of research into the elementals of music and beyond music.
To position this musician: He belongs to the improvisatory forms of Jazz: the sub-genre piano trio. There are tunes (all credited to the leader) with loosely arranged choruses featuring some of the most modest soloing you will ever hear. But then we must start subtracting things: all of bebop harmonic argument is out, ditto any jagged modernistic rhythmic displacements. Virtuosity makes no appearance; Indeed, velocity is shunned in favor of a medium pulse that gives way to floating suspensions of time.
Apparently, the audience for this music was not concerned about its affiliation to the contested notion of Jazz. Gustavsen’s first records vaulted onto the Top Hits list in Norway (The Ground, 2005, reached number one position, while Being There, 2007, reached number three) This has never been achieved by any mainstream jazz record. Nor has ECM ever produced a record which attained to this level of popular prominence. What qualities of this music are key to its genre-erasing affability?
For one, it is meditative, but without the sluggish navel-gazing which comes from predictability. The rhythm section, Sigurd Hole on bass and Jarle Vespested on drums, has attained to the rare art of playing slowly with rapt attention to detail.
Too, the lyricism is more focused and precisely-shaped than the typical impressionistic gestures of jazz ballad playing. This is probably because Tord relies so heavily on the fragile melodic line alone that there is no room for error or imprecision. At its finest, it sounds as unselfconscious and whole as folk-music.
The recording at hand, The Other Side, is the first by the trio in a while. About half of the record marks a return to what has made the group so popular, its exquisite lyrical simplicity. The other half though pushes outward into new territory with some arrangements of traditional hymns and a three pieces by Bach. The latter is most surprising from a trio that has deemphasized harmony as a first principle.
The first tune, The Tunnel, has about twice a many chords as are typically deployed by the pianist and they provide enough extra ballast to keep the 6-minute piece heavily earthbound. The studio sound is boomy and reverberant even by ECM standards. The second tune, Kirken, den er et gammelt hus, is a traditional tune entirely in keeping with the Tordian feel. A long brooding introduction gives way to a folky melody which is embellished by an almost Scarlattian baroque ornamentation. Bass thrums to the merry perradiddles as the trio goes deeper into the waltz groove, darkening the mood, thickening the texture, and ending abruptly without having wasted a single note.
After this highlight, Re-Melt revisits well-known territory with a middle-tempo minor key tune sounding indistinguishable from the best moments on the first three records. The second traditional tune unfolds at a heavy funeral march tempo. The arco bass adds some keening whale sounds. The drummer provides a haze of metal and a general feeling of oppressed inebriation. Then, it’s back to the Tordian ABCs on Taste and See, which sounds like a lullaby. The right hand soloing is minimalist, while the bass and drums have little to do.
Tord Gustavsen
Schlafes Bruder, the first of three Bach “tunes,” starts with snappy snare work and piano over a pedal point. Tord lifts a portion of a choral; the Bachian cadence is lovely while the right hand mostly ignores its implications to find its own way melodically. It is a piece of great ingenuity; what could be harder than to meld one’s own style–especially one based on simplicity–with that of the Great Master?
Jesu, Meine Freunde follows, with more attention to the lyrical top line of Bach and more delicate interactions with bass pluckings and decorative effects from the kit. The form strains but holds as a romantic effusions of a jazz sort break through. There is an almost Jarret-like sense of upward lift. As beautiful as this is, the following Jesus, det eneste, is even better. Unpredictable hymn-like chords support a chorale-like melody that modulates whimsically. It is a grand affirmation of the rare sort, inducing tears.
The title track serves up nothing new. It sounds like the group wood-shedding to the purpose of finding the essence of the folk–hymn-modal inspiration that animates the record as a whole. It amounts to inconclusive research with some atypical demonstrations of finger-wiggling and sustained volume.
The final Bach piece, O Traurigkeit, is a minimalist reduction of the choral. Tord again shows his rediscovery of the trill. At the very least, some notion of Bach is pointing the pianist into new territory here; it is a fresh and grave meditation without pretty notes.
Left Over Lullaby features a minor key piano sketch expressive of a personal conundrum. Finally, with Curves, we find the trio in dead-center ECM zone with pared-down modal playing on a deep voiced bass current. Sigurd Hole’s instrument is spectacular and shines on both a solo and a dialog of subtle inquiry with the piano. Fittingly, we end softly. It is, after all, a Tord Gustavsen record, and low-volume playing is the good manners learned at home by these fine musicians. This record expands the horizons of this sympathetic unit. One would like to see more investigations into this folk/trad/classical world to balance out and complement Gustavsen’s instinctive love of pretty lyricism. Highly recommended.
—Fritz Balwit
Link to more info and track samples:
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 26, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
“Six Evolutions” = BACH: Six Suites for Solo Cello – Yo-Yo Ma, cello – Sony Classical 19075854652 (2 CDs), 133 minutes *****:
Ever since Yo-Yo Ma first learned Bach’s Suite No. 1 under the tutelage of his father at age four, the music seared itself into his soul like an indelible seal. The general public anxiously awaited Ma’s first attempt at these six suites, and were rewarded with an energetic, relatively straightforward but radiantly enthusiastic recording done before he left his twenties. About fifteen years later he returned to them, this time filming the process resulting in performances that are exceptionally competent yet somewhat contrived in their effectiveness.
Now, in his last stab (as he admits) at these seminal pieces—he is in his early sixties now, which makes me feel really old!—the promised land looks to have been attained. These readings are by far superior to anything that went before. The acoustics are rather dry and close, and that can sometimes be deadly in a solo cello recording, but here the harsher aspects of the instrument have been tamed, and we get a mellow, resonant, and communicative sound that is most pleasant on the ears.
Johann Sebastian Bach
Interpretatively, these are probably the most intimate readings of any music Ma has ever recorded. There are liberties taken, but never do they emanate from willfulness or some perverse ideology, but rather from a deep sense of love and commitment to the music. Ma believes that these works have the power to reach out to a universal audience, yet he chooses to present them in a way that is extremely personal and highly subjective, an almost intrusive overhearing of the most private sentiments. At the same time, when all is said and done, the feeling is not one of exclusivity, but instead a sense of genuine expression well within the perceived limits of what Bach might have imagined.
Lovers of this music will want several renditions of these works, and I continue to favor the incandescent readings of Winona Zelenka above all others. Nevertheless, this swan song issue from the most famous cellist living is required listening for anyone who loves Bach.
—Steven Ritter
Link for more information:
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 25, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews
Lucia Jackson – You And The Night And The Music – Roni Music 6672 49:43***:
In this debut album You And The Night And The Music, Lucia Jackson touches all the bases with her musical choices from jazz to pop to American standards. With a warm, charming voice, that on close listening still has traces of her Spanish upbringing, Jackson shows she has the goods to be heard in this competitive market.
In this outing, Jackson is backed by a tight little band led by her father guitarist Ron Jackson, who also arranged the majority of the charts. Clearly Jackson père understands the creative capabilities of his daughter as the arrangements fit like a glove. Opening with Cole Porter’s “Just One Of Those Things”, the number swings along at full tilt with Lucia in firm control of the lyrics.
Unafraid to venture beyond the nine dots, Jackson takes on the Lennon/McCartney pop classic “And I Love Him”. Done as slow walk ballad, she captures the power of the lyric backed only by her father on a steel 7 string guitar. Arthur Schwartz/Howard Dietz wrote the title track “You And The Night And The Music for the 1934 Broadway show Revenge With Music. The show had a brief life, but this composition has lived on. Jackson offers a spirited take on the number accompanied in boisterous fashion by Yaacov Mayman on tenor saxophone.
While Frank Sinatra’s name was attached to numerous songs that he made famous during his lifetime, there appears to be only seven numbers on which he shares a composer credit. Along with Jack Wolf and Joel Herron Sinatra wrote “ I’m A Fool To Want You” in 1951 about the time he was divorcing his first wife Nancy and began his affair with Ava Gardner. Jackson recognizes the underlying pathos and heartbreak inherent in the number. These emotions as expressed by Jackson’s voice are enhanced by the bandoneon of Javier Sánchez and the violin of Frederika Krier.
It would be unusual if a debut album did not contain a Duke Ellington number and this one is no exception. The quintessential “Sophisticated Lady” is delivered wth the requisite panache that the number demands.
As Lucia Jackson covers the balance of the material with ballads such as “Never Let me Go” and “I Fall In Love Too Easily” or the emotional “Toda Una Vida” the singer demonstrates that she has a firm idea on what she wants to accomplish with this release; to expose the range and timbre of her voice and that she plans on becoming a singer to be reckoned with.
Performing Artists:
Lucia Jackson – vocals; Ron Jackson – 7 string electric arch top guitar; Yago Vasquez – piano; Matt Clohesy – double bass; Corey Rawls – drums; Yaacov Mayman – tenor saxophone track #5; Javier Sánchez – bandoneon, Frederika Krier – violin track # 6; Don Garcia – flamenco classical guitar, Samuel Torres – cajon/congas/percussion track #7
TrackList: Just One Of Those Things; Beautiful Love; Issues; And I Love Him; You And The Night And The Music; I’m A Fool To Want You; Feel The Love; Sophisticated Lady; No Regrets; Never Let Me Go; I Fall In Love Too Easily; Toda Una Vida; When You’re Smiling
—Pierre Giroux
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 25, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews
Horenstein conducts PROKOFIEV = Symphony No. 1 in D Major, Op. 25 “Classical”; Suite from The Buffoon, Op. 21a; Symphony No. 5 in B-flat Major, Op. 100; Lt. Kije – Suite, Op. 60 – Concerts Colonne Orchestra Paris/ Jascha Horenstein – Pristine Audio PASC 528 (2 CDs) TT: 1:49:24 [www.pristineclassical.com] ****:
Jascha Horenstein (1898-1973) first approached the music of Serge Prokofiev in the 1930s, during a tour of the Soviet Union. By the time of Horenstein’s contractual work for Vox Records in 1954, he had a long and established legacy in the Prokofiev legacy, and the Vox team in Paris captured his collaboration with the Colonne ensemble in especially clear, athletic sound. The 1917 Classical Symphony in D Major—a product of the composer’s early studies with Alexandre Tcherepnin—enjoys a fine, dashing spirit, and a lean verve that rivals those equally impressive documents from Koussevitzky and Malko. The flute part proves engaging and flexible, supported by a host of active colors. The Gavotte from the French baroque we know just as well from Romeo and Juliet. The Finale: Allegro molto, for all of its rhythmic antics, flows seamlessly to a stirring, deft coda.
The 1921 ballet Chout – The Buffoon came as a result of Prokofiev’s desire to please impresario Diaghliev, since Prokofiev’s first ballet Ala and Lolly, had not. In twelve sections or tableaux taken from an Alexander Afanasyev’s folk tale—via the writings of Maxim Gorky—of wife-beating, the suite has a breezy, slightly manic character, incorporating aspects of magic and much from Stravinsky, including allusions from Petrushka and The Rite of Spring. Several of the discordant harmonies in Prokofiev’s distinctive, slashing rhythms (as in “The Young Woman Becomes a Goat”) will doubtless “apologize” for his Scythian Suite. Oriental riffs and trumpet interjects run rampant. Horenstein committed the score to memory specifically for this recording of 1954. The performance generates crisp, resounding with blaring brass, mordant tuba, and anguished English horn. A bizarre combination of lurid violence and grotesque lyricism, the mood strangely parallels much of what we find in Bartok’s more political allegory The Miraculous Mandarin.
According to the notes provided by Mischa Horenstein, Jascha Horenstein led the first of his Paris performances of the 1944 Fifth Symphony of Prokofiev on 22 October 1954 “to clamorous critical and public acclaim.” Prokofiev suggested that the spirit of the Fifth Symphony means to “sing the praises of the free and happy man.” A degree of pantheism infiltrates this music, respecting as it does the sense of “radiant nature.” Prokofiev never ceased to admire the contours and rigors of the Classical sonata-form as a proper structure for his own works, despite their often angular and iconoclastic harmony. While strings, flute and bassoon contribute to the arching theme of the Andante movement, the brass acquire a stentorian authority in the course of the development. The composer’s biographer Nestyev testified that, at the climax of the first movement, he felt the urgency of the music’s “glorification of strength and beauty of the human spirit.” Horenstein’s last pages prove particularly expansive, with the grumbling figures in the basses providing more obstacles for the top line to overcome.
Sergei Prokofiev,
circa 1918
The solo clarinet announces the manic figure that sets the Allegro marcato (scherzo) based on two notes into motion: what ensues are a series of variations on the jabbing melody. Both Koussevitzky and Celibidache loved to slow down the central section march in triple meter’s pulse, so that the brooding, incremental march of the da capo would mount and then explode in the manner of a turbine gone berserk. Horenstein takes no such “repose” prior to the re-entry of the outer section. Here, the Colonne clarinets, violas, and battery sections, as they had realized in the first movement, seem alert to deliver Horenstein’s tempos and astringent harmonies at fever pitch.
The tripartite Adagio movement opens with a gloomy tread that soon allows a mournful, elastic tune to rise on clarinets and strings. The snare drum and harp contribute to the martial melancholy of the occasion. Over more ostinati the melody rises and then dips into low, doxology. When the music proceeds in the high strings, the Colonne players evoke a weirdly anguished hymn. The coda, too, set to strings and piccolo, achieves a haunted perspective that perhaps echoes the horrors of our last mid-century through which “heroism” might have to prove itself. Woodwinds and cellos alternately set the course for the Allegro giocoso last movement. The solo clarinet introduces the various periods of this sonata-rondo form in which Prokofiev pays homage to Haydn, even its use of perpetuo-moto rhythms. Horenstein builds a towering edifice from the plethora of motives – not the least of which is the “Russian” chorale tune from the cello section and answered by the brass – piled upon each other, urged to a rousing coda of turbulent energy and illuminated colors.
The 1933-34 Suite for Lt. Kije, Op. 60 derives from an anecdote about Czar Paul I, reigning from 1796-1801, who may well have been a mental incompetent. Prokofiev procured the story from one Yuri Tynianov, who had collected tales and anecdotes about the eccentric Czar. The entire notion of an imaginary hero’s receiving a birth, marriage, distinctions and death may have found its way to George Orwell, who in his novel 1984, creates Comrade Ogilvy for “posterity,” even while “real” men and women manage to have themselves eliminated for political expediency. The sense of ironic mockery pervades this delicious score, the first flute and tenor saxophone define the “Kije” motif, while a flurry of martial effects lights up “The Birth of Kije.” The double bass and solo viola announce the “Romance,” which easily captures the spirit of Russian folk song. Kije takes a wife in the third movement, in which ponderous brass music braces the key idea, a wedding song that imitates a children’s round dance. The Colonne battery – piano, percussion, and harp – intone a winter “Troika” scene, meant to have soldiers fetch Kije on a sleigh. The “Burial of Kife” reminisces – after a cornet fanfare and snare drum homage – on the prior movements, the violins and cornet intoning a funeral for an empty coffin. The solo flute reprises the “Kije” motif as he fades into aesthetic distance.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 23, 2018 | Streams and Podcasts
This weeks featured artist on The Music Treasury is violinist Aldo Ferraresi, a significant performer as a soloist as well as in chamber ensembles and orchestras this past century. The show will air between 19:00 and 21:00 PDT, hosted by Dr Gary Lemco, on KZSU in the Bay Area, or live on the ‘Net at kzsu.stanford.edu.
Aldo Ferraresi (1902-1978), violinist
Mr. Ferraresi was born in Ferrara, the son of Augusto Ferraresi (1868-1939), an artillery marshal and mandolin player, and Marcella Jesi. His mother was “of Jewish origin”. At the age of five he began his studies at the Frescobaldi Institute of Music in Ferrara with Federico Barera and Umberto Supino. When he was 12, he was admitted to the Parma Conservatory. His teacher there, Mario Corti, also accompanied him to Rome where he received a degree in violin from the Accademia di Santa Cecilia three years later. Upon suggestions from Jan Kubelik, he went to Eugène Ysaÿe, who considered him one of his best pupils. Starting from 1923 he was leader of “Aldo Ferraresi Chamber Orchestra” where, together with Marcello Cortopassi and professors of the “Rome Augusteo Orchestra”, he played at Gran Caffé Margherita in Viareggio (Lucca). He went on to perform in concert halls throughout Europe and the United States including La Scala in Milan, the Royal Festival Hall in London. In addition to his solo concert work, he was also first violin in the Quartet of San Remo and concertmaster at the Symphonic Orchestra of San Remo, as well at the Teatro San Carlo in Naples. As teacher, he held the violin class at Music Conservatory “N. Puccinni” in Bari from October 1967 until 1973, when Nino Rota was the director. Among his pupils we can remember Uto Ughi who studied with him privately in Naples for 7 years. Aldo Ferraresi died in Sanremo on June 29, 1978. In May 2002, the 100th anniversary of his birth was marked by an exhibition and seminars in Ferrara and concerts in his honour in Ferrara at the Teatro Comunale. Ferraresi played on many precious violins, among of them are the “King George” Stradivarius and the “Cannone” Guarneri of Paganini. His favourire instruments were a Camillo Camilli and an Alessandro Gagliano. [from Wikipedia]
This evening’s program comes exclusively through the courtesy of the Rhine Classics label and its founder Emilio Pessina. The Concerto by Mario Guarino is the work of a composer who served as violinist of Teatro alla Scala until 1943, and afterwards dedicated himself to composing and managing public musical institutions. The concerto was written in 1935 dedicated to the centenary of Paganini’s death. It was world premiered by Aldo Ferraresi at La Scala on June 14,1948, under the baton of André Cluytens. The Paganini works are performed on Paganini’s own Guarnerius instrument.
Program Listing:
Dvorak: Slavonic Dance No. 16, Op. 72, No. 8 (arr. Kreisler)
Ysaye: Poeme elegiaque No. 1 in D Minor, Op. 12
Turina: El poema de una sanluquena, Op. 28
Paganini: Nel cor piu non mi sento for Violin Solo
Paganini: Le streghe, Op. 8
Debussy: Ballade (arr. Carembat)
Guarino: Violin Concerto (1948; dedicated to Aldo Ferraresi)
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 23, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews
Will Ackerman – FLOW – LMB Music 11006, 50:33 ****1/2:
With three instruments and bona fide gravitas as instrumentalists, Flow is a group of established solo artists who have joined together to share a specific musical vision. Will Ackerman, Windham Hill founder and producer may be the most recognized member of Flow (whose spelling is an acronymic play on their names; Fiona/“F”; Lawrence/“L”; Jeff Oster/“O” and of course /“W”). Ackerman’s career spans over three decades and his thoughtful approach to acoustic guitar is iconic. At Windhan Hill, the music that he popularized was known as New Age. He is joined in the band by Australian pianist and vocalist Fiona Joy, finger-guitarist Lawrence Blatt and trumpet/flugelhorn artist (and “organizer” of this band). Individually all four players have critically acclaimed recordings and live performances on their resumes in Contemporary Instrumental music, New Age or even Ambient stylings. Regardless of the classification debates, this “supergroup” transcends the limitations of any genre. While still performing and recording, Ackerman has been a fruitful producer at his Imaginary Road Studios, in Vermont. This opportunity to work with brilliant musicians and create a cohesive, yet expansive aural landscape was impossible to ignore. FLOW was born out of respect, intellectual curiosity and the drive to make music democratically with input and ideas from all members.
The self-titled debut begins with a co-authored (for the record, all the music is credited to the foursome) piece, “Arrival”. This track delves into the space and personal intimacy under a gently pulsating piano melody by Joy that has shades of aspiration. The is a tempo pick up from the addition of acoustic guitars as Oster builds a swelling counter to Joy’s haunting lines. Even in this low-keyed arrangement, there is significant atmospheric texture. And that texture rolls into “Whisper Me This”. With a restrained percussion underpinning (Jeff Haynes), the quartet build a musical tapestry that’s demonstrates a palpable intimacy and traditional 1980’s engineering that includes how space changes the context of sounds. There instrumentalists have committed to preserve the sanctity of instrumental group dynamics. The results are breathless for their harmonic integrity and complex delicacy. As the title cut unfurls, a jauntier vibe is mined with dual acoustic guitars and trumpet inflection. Joy’s piano and murmuring voice shading adds considerable texture. At the 2:00 minute mark there is a meditative shift that lasts for one minute. The percussion anchors the jam and this feels like the essence of the band is on full display.
“Free Ascent” has an expansive “airy” intro with superb guitar articulation. The aural swelling surrounds the crisp guitar notation in this “dreamscape”. The gently pulsating closing is stunning. Shifting gears, “Waiting For Sunshine” is finger-snapping breeze with a rhythmic acoustic guitar, smooth flugelhorn lines and a focused guitar lead. it has an hypnotic effect and when Joy comes in on piano (with understatement), the lyricism abounds. On “Waters Gather”, Oster sets a moody context as Joy executes measured classical runs. A cello (Eugene Friesen) is a nice addition to this “cerebral” musical stream. A certain standout on Flow is the mercurial “And The Sky Was”. It captures nuanced, jazzy folk chording. With muted trumpet and piano trading off, the guitar work has a sustained gossamer resonance, like Jorma Kaukonen or David Crosby.
“A Night In Nocelle” is nothing short of guitar bliss. Oster’s trumpet and Joy’s inimitable soft vocalese caress the melody with graceful nuance. “Tenth Life” begins with a baleful refrain, but the inspirational piano and cello take the arrangement to a different level. Each section or instrumental passage is fresh and inventive. “Rest Now My Friend’ delivers on its namesake with a plaintive, reassuring melody on guitar. There is an inherent solitude that exudes from the song. The acoustic guitar is at the core of the finale, “For Rosalita & Giovanni”. A heartfelt translation includes a deft piano, horn and bottom-filling cello. It is a fitting conclusion to a great album.
It is no surprise that Flow has garnered multiple industry awards. The instrumentalists are stellar and their interaction is seamless. The mix is luxurious and glows with ample expansion and texture. Hopefully there will be more albums on the horizon.
Performing Artists:
Will Ackerman – guitar; Fiona Joy – piano, vocals; Lawrence Blatt – acoustic, electric guitar, ukulele; Jeff Oster – trumpet, flugelhorn; Mark Shulman – guitar; Tony Levin – bass; Jeff Haynes – percussion; Sam Bevan – bass; Eugene Friesen – cello; Tom Eaton – guitar, bass
TrackList:
Arrival; Whisper Me this; Flow; Free Ascent; Waiting For Sunshine; Waters Gather; And The Sky Was; A Night In Nocelle; Tenth Life; Rest Now My Friend; For Rosita & Giovanni
—Robbie Gerson
For more information:
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 21, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews
TCHAIKOVSKY: Symphony No. 4 in F minor, Op. 36; Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64 – SWR Symphony Orchestra/ Hans Rosbaud – SWR Classic SWR19062 (2 CDs) 42:29; 46:19 (6/8/18) [Distr. by Naxos] *****:
Rare indeed are the Hans Rosbaud (1895-1962) interpretations of the music of Tchaikovsky that survive, so these documents of the Fourth Symphony (17 January 1957) and the Fifth Symphony (8 September 1954) hereby restored from the archives of SouthWest Radio Orchestra Baden-Baden mark a real occasion. Each of the symphonies embodies some notion of “fate” as Tchaikovsky conceived it, and each manages to suggest a titanic struggle in which the individual soul emerges triumphant despite the confrontation with tragic adversity.
It seems appropriate to suggest that Rosbaud’s approach to the first movement of the Fourth – Andante sostenuto ; Moderato con anima – would suggest much of what Arturo Toscanini might have brought by dint of linear drive and taut control, had this music been to his taste (Toscanini favored only the Manfred Symphony and the Pathetique). The phrasing of the fanfare motif and its subsequent appearances move with the lightning-bolt directness of the “model” in the Beethoven Fifth. The rhythmic impulse does not invite Rosbaud’s exaggerated rubato or manipulation of the (waltz) pulse, as we hear in Koussevitzky, Mengelberg and Bernstein. Neither does Rosbaud indulge the melodic curve hyperbolically. But the energy and sweep of the drama proceed cleanly and clearly, passionate within restraints. The recapitulation and coda—in the tragic key of D minor with a modulation to F Major—emerge with blazing effect.
The intonation of Rosbaud’s forces remains immaculate, much to the benefit of the succeeding Andantino movement. Here, the SWR Symphony winds, horns and low strings converge to create a towering realization of Russian folk tune raised to the level of a personal anthem. The SWR oboe, of course, holds court along with flute and French horn. The melancholy swagger of the main theme never devolves into sentimental molasses but retains a nobility rife with nostalgia. The novel Pizzicato ostinato – Allegro third movement always stands as a display piece for the string sections’ discipline, here executed with alternately transparent, martial brio and fitful, swirling elan. Tchaikovsky adopted the Russian folk tune There Stood a Tiny Birch for his resplendent finale, opening with some harmonic audacity and evolving into another appearance of the “fate” motif. Between the kettle drums and the cymbals we have any number of whirlwinds of emotion, led by aroused wind and brass sections. If the leanness of the sonority qualifies as “German” the intrinsic Russian character of the music suffers no diminution of spirit.
Peter Tchaikovsky
The 1888 Fifth Symphony of Tchaikovsky sustains its “fateful” character even more consistently than the Fourth. Once the clarinets of the opening Andante – Allegro con anima announce their solemn procession, the music develops a martial, tempestuous momentum that suddenly cuts off to embrace a sad and lovely waltz theme. While Rosbaud’s passion for this music does not expand to the volatility of say, Mravinsky, the stern beauty of the occasion remains taut, sincere, and exquisitely balanced. The SWR trumpets and drums do not stint on musical power, and their intonation proves razor-sharp. We know the motto theme will interrupt the idyll of the second movement, Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza, setting a seal of doubt over the mood the French horn and oboe had tried to establish of spiritual respite.
The third movement, Valse -Allegro moderato had its inspiration in the streets of Florence, Italy, the locale that would give later rise to the sextet of Op. 70. This idyll, too, suffers the intrusion of the “fate” motif, casting a shadow up whatever tender sentiments had evolved. The Finale sets an ambiguous, perpetual duel between E minor and E Major, culminating in a verve-filled Russian trepak of often wild energy. Happily, Rosbaud does not follow the unfortunate examples of Mengelberg and Sargent to opt for the cuts in this movement. The ensuing momentum that explodes into triumphal E Major rivals what we most enjoy in both Kossevitzky and Mravinsky, though without their native mania. The clarity and poise that Rosbaud brings shed its own light upon this familiar work, which has emerged with a resolve and dignity we always wanted for this music.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 20, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
“Teach Me Thy Statutes” = CHESNOKOV: Music from the All-Night Vigil and the Divine Liturgy – Choir of the Patriarch Tikhon Russian-American Musical Institute (PaTRAM)/ Choir of the Moscow Representation of the Holy Trinity-St. Sergius Lavra/ Hierarchical Men’s Choir of the Saratov Diocese/ Vladimir Gorbik – Reference Recordings fresh! Multichannel SACD FR-727, 67:14 *****:
Pavel Chesnokov (1877 – 1944) was a seminal composer for mainly liturgical chant of the Russian Orthodox Church that crossed the boundaries of pre-revolutionary times until well in the period of Soviet domination and aggression. Though he was quite successful—and noted—as a choral conductor and composer, he did not enroll in the Moscow Conservatory until the age of 36, graduating with a major in conducting and composition, and he and his choir had the honor of participating in the re-establishment of the Patriarchal throne (the first time since the dissolution by Peter the Great) with the enthronement of Patriarch—and later Saint—Tikhon (who had also been Archbishop of America before returning to Russia). Chesnokov was prolific—over 500 choral works are ascribed to his pen.
Originally, until around the 1700s, singing in the Russian church parallels that of the Byzantine churches, meaning the music was canonically inscribed as monophonic. Eventually this changed, probably under the influence of the “reforms” of Peter the Great, and harmonized, western-style compositions became the norm, along with the abandonment—at least in parishes—of the traditional Znammeny chant for the easier Obikhod, much simpler in nature and not unlike the Anglican psalm settings in terms of multiple words set to basic chordal structures. However, in the seminaries, schools, and larger cathedrals and monasteries, more complex choral music became the norm, though even relatively calm settings like Tchaikovsky’s Divine Liturgy were rejected by the synodal censors as being too untraditional.
Pavel Chesnokov
By Chesnokov’s time there arose a movement to get back to the traditional monophonic chants with the idea of incorporating them into the existing harmonized liturgical compositions. Chesnokov was a master of this—he uses many of these older chants in a brilliant manner, highlighting their melodic content without obscuring their tone or feeling. Of course, nowadays Russian liturgical music is assumed to be choral and large, as given testament by the many and famous choirs that have recorded it, to the detriment of the original chants, and this is a shame. Even so, the churchliness and spirit of the originals is easily to be found in composers like the one under consideration.
The three male choirs here—around 42 voices strong—make a glorious sound indeed in this selection of the main pieces from the so-called All-night Vigil (two to four hours in length, and the standard Saturday evening and Great Feast service of the Russian Church) and the Divine Liturgy, the everyday standard eucharistic service in the Orthodox Church in general. Though the producer’s intent is to present a pure and monastic vision of this music, this would be possible only in the larger monasteries—not all enjoy the richness of a 42-member choir—but even so it is nice to hear the music in a manner that Chesnokov surely envisioned it. The combined choir is simply stunning, and the resonance and perfectly-captured acoustic of the Church of St. John the Theologian at the Saratov Orthodox Theological Seminary is a tribute to the excellence of recording engineer John Newton, a wonderful surround sound product. One hopes that Reference will return soon to this genre!
Tracklist:
1. Bless The Lord, O My Soul
2. Blessed Is The Man
3. Gladsome Light
4. Lord, Now Lettest Thou
5. Praise The Name Of The Lord
6. Blessed Art Thou, O Lord
7. Having Beheld The Resurrection Of Christ
8. Jesus Has Risen From The Tomb
9. The Great Doxology
10. Bless The Lord, O My Soul
11. Glory… Only Begotten Son
12. Cherubic Hymn
13. A Mercy Of Peace And We Hymn Thee
14. It Is Truly Fitting
15. Salvation Is Created
—Steven Ritter
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 19, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
Stephen YIP: Whispering Fragrance (chamber works)—Henry Chen (piano), Yu-Chen Wang (guzheng), Yu-Fang Chen (violin), Daniel Gelok (saxophone), Rudy Albach (double bass), Andrew Schneider (piano), Yiuan-Reng Yeh (guzheng), Izumi Miyahara (flute), Masahito Sugihara (saxophone), Ben Roidl-Ward (bassoon), Tehlema Trio—Navona Records NV6175—67:00, ***
Composer Stephen Yip may be unconventional, but is wholly consistent in his release featuring chamber pieces in Whispering Fragrance. The titular piece for solo violin evokes an almost smoke-like form. It evokes tuning and sounds from the violin, including harmonics and overtones that most certainly are a challenging proposition for violinist Yu-Fang Chen. The piece is a great introduction to the entire recording. Stephen Yip composes music that is unwaveringly modern. Oriental-sounding evoking elements come and go, percussive proclamations are a staple element, and all the performances, no matter how exotic the notation may be, are well-captured and well-performed.
Yip scores Ding for double bass and guzheng, a type of zither. Ran is scored for solo guzheng. The remaining pieces are written for more recognizable instruments: piano, clarinet, saxophone, flute, and bassoon. That does not mean, however, you have heard these instruments produce all the sounds that Yip calls for.
Speaking to consistency, each of Yip’s pieces are slow-moving and and evoke an emerging soundscape. Not all this is natural or pleasant-sounding; in the piece In Seventh Heaven, the sax, double bass, and piano erupt at one point in a vexing explosion of timbres that just might raise one’s blood pressure. But it is that conflict that is an interesting aspect to Yip’s sound world. Bowing the guzheng in Ran produces a similar effect.
One cannot deny that Stephen Yip and his performing colleagues are adventurous and creative musicians. I auditioned these pieces for guests with mixed reactions. These included “oh, that’s so cool,” to “who would listen to this?” For the consumer, know that Yip’s music may challenge you, and that it is avant garde. Having access to the liner notes will provide context. I would add that seeing the pieces performed might enhance their drama, and each are well-suited to be paired with moving visuals, whether that be film, dance, or some type of performance art. For me, this is not music I will return to often, but these pieces do present many guises of the unexpected and unimagined.
—Sebastian Herrera
Link for more info and tracks:
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 19, 2018 | Jazz CD Reviews
Justin Brown – Nyeusi – [TrackList follows] – Biophilia BREP0012, 40:24 [6/29/18] ****:
Drummer Justin Brown and the Biophilia label are a seamless partnership. Brown’s debut as a leader, the 40-minute Nyeusi is a hybrid of fusion jazz, electronic sounds, hip-hop/electronica rhythms, and more. Biophilia’s releases are hybrid as well. The label’s double-sided, 20-panel, origami-inspired paper packages are prized by music buyers… inside there are no physical CDs, only a download code to high-quality digital files: the perfect match of consumerism and environmentally-friendly containers.
Brown has been around the jazz scene for a while. He put aside a full-ride to The Juilliard School to tour with saxophonist Kenny Garrett. Later, he was in trumpeter Ambrose Akinmusire’s band and joined up with pianist Gerald Clayton. Since 2014 he has backed genre-less bassist/vocalist Thundercat. Now it’s Brown’s time in the spotlight. But don’t think Nyeusi (Swahili for ‘dark’) is just a showcase for Brown’s percussive talents. This quintet release is a full band project and emphasizes musical dialogue and interaction. Brown (who also handles some keyboards) enlisted keyboardist and Biophilia label founder Fabian Almazan; keyboardist Jason Lindner (credits include bassist Avishai Cohen, saxophonist Donny McCaslin and Lindner was on David Bowie’s final album); Mark Shim (who switches from his typical tenor sax to an effects-driven wind controller); and bassist Burniss Earl Travis II (shortened to Burniss Travis for Nyeusi; his resumé includes Stefon Harris, Roy Hargrove and Nicholas Payton).
The 13 tracks (11 penned by Brown; one Tony Williams cover; and one solo cut by Travis) blend Brown’s polyrhythmic beats with a surfeit of keyboard and analog electronic sounds, and Travis’ elastic bass tones. Fender Rhodes electric piano intersperses with Moog synths; Wurlitzer electric piano commingles with Mellotron; and Shim’s ethereal wind controller is mixed with everything else. It’s never clear who plays what instrument as processing occasionally masks obvious keyboard/electronic stylings. The result is a sometimes-dense auditory panorama which is at times painterly, other times funky, frequently hearkens to 1970s fusion, and other times is ultramodern. Brown says, “It’s a jazz album, it’s a hip-hop album, it’s an instrumental album. You have to have one foot in the past and one foot in the future, and that’s what I hope for people to hear when they hear this album.”
The material is split between full-length pieces and briefer interludes which sometimes act as introductions or as postscripts. The record opens with two shorter cuts before the four-minute creation “Lots for Nothin’,” which starts with Brown’s fusillade of polyrhythm drumming. Travis’ dynamic bass rides the bottom end alongside Brown’s bass drum. The melody tends to stay in the higher register either via keyboards or Shim’s wind controller (it’s difficult to pinpoint exact instruments). There are also other musical outlines and fills which zip through the arrangement. The longest number, “Waiting for Aubade,” has a backdrop of nostalgia, melancholia and memory. English or music majors may know the term aubade as a morning love song or an expression which describes a human parting at daybreak. Aubade has been employed in classical music, dance and poetry. The shimmering “Waiting for Aubade” has a bit of a Weather Report influence, where a main theme gradually progresses via Joe Zawinul-esque keyboard sounds, while an intricate rhythm keeps things moving and shifting. One of the most distinctive tunes is the fusion-meets-dance amalgamation “Entering Purgatory.” A simplified refrain is modified and adjusted on top of a skittish drum pattern which combines a traditional jazz beat with a skewed hip-hop groove. The melody nearly swirls out of control but there is a sense of meticulous choices which keeps “Entering Purgatory” from becoming wholly anarchic. Two other standouts are the funk-fest “FYFO” and the sole cover, Tony William’s “Circa 45.” Hip-hop inspiration as well as 1970s-era fusion can be heard on “FYFO,” (the title probably either refers to facial recognition software or a UK-based clothing line) which contains a plethora of analog keyboards. Brown doesn’t stray too far from Williams’ original arrangement of “Circa 45” (which is from Williams’ 1971 LP Ego). Williams’ spacy introduction and outro are changed to fill the entire arrangement. Brown decelerates the pacing and rhythm, jettisons the jazz-rock guitar pyrotechnics and decided to apply a less intense keyboard improvisation. The album concludes with the thirty-second “Burniss,” which is a beautiful Travis bass solo; and the hard-hitting “Lindner’s in Your Body!,” which whirrs and jolts with bouncing keyboard notes, a neo-dance beat and eerie, vocal-like din. Nyeusi is not a standard jazz project. Where other musicians use synthesizers and other digital or analog keyboards as if they are replacing a horn or guitar, Brown and his band members utilize these instruments in a more natural approach, displaying the instruments’ assets in compositional ways, and in the process manufacturing a fresh viewpoint on the tired idea of ‘fusion.’
Performing Artists:
Justin Brown – producer, drums, percussion, Fender Rhodes, Mellotron (track 1), Juno 9 (track 9), Prophet 13 (track 9), Moog (track 9), Yamaha DX 7 (track 10), handclaps (track 10); Fabian Almazan – Fender Rhodes, Wurlitzer, MoPho, Mellotron (tracks 5, 7); Jason Lindner – Moog synth, MoPho, Prophet, Schoenhut piano (tracks 7-8); Mark Shim – wind controller; Burniss Travis – bass; Morgan Guerin, Jesse Fischer – handclaps (track 10)
TrackList:
Jupiter’s Giant Red Spot
Lesson 1: DANCE
Lots for Nothin’
Waiting (Dusk)
Waiting for Aubade
At Peace (Dawn)
Lesson 2: PLAY
Entering Purgatory
FYFO
Circa 45
Burniss
Lindner’s in Your Body!
—Doug Simpson
Links to more info and tracks:
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 19, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
SAINT-SAËNS: Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Major, Op. 17; Piano Concerto No. 2
in G minor, Op. 22; Piano Concerto No. 4 in C minor, Op. 44 – Louis Lortie, piano/ BBC Philharmonic/ Edward Gardner – Chandos CHAN 20031, 70:58 (9/7/18) [Distr. by Naxos] *****:
That the Saint-Saëns Piano Concerto No. 1 of 1858 represents the first such work in the genre by a French composer often goes unnoticed: its opening horn call becomes quite functional in the course of the first movement, a combination of structural integrity and plastic virtuosity. A degree of homage seems to attach to the Chopin style, in terms of melodic invention and glittery filigree, and Saint-Saëns’ sense of orchestral balance already manifests itself in the winds and strings. The easy suasion between Lortie’s keyboard and the BBC under Gardner (rec. 4-13 January 2018) rings with glossy energy, courtesy of Recording Producers Mike George and Brian Pidgeon. Clara Schumann, in her less generous mood, likened the Saint-Saëns’ style to musical acrobatics, but her attitude proves too dismissive of the Frenchman’s synthesis of concerto and symphonic canvas. The second movement Andante sostenuto quasi adagio – Ad libitum, with its dramatic stops and starts, likely looks to the Beethoven G Major Concerto second movement. The parlando of the keyboard plays against the low winds and strings, with Lortie’s arpeggios and highly-trilled cadenza passage in soaring lyricism and graded dynamics, a model perhaps for Richard Addinsell’s “Warsaw” Concerto. In some vague notion of “cyclicism,” Saint-Saëns utilizes his horn call once more in the final Allegro con fuoco, a tour de force in the light-hearted Mendelssohn mode. The synthesis of sonata-form with the boulevardier sensibility obviously will appeal to Francis Poulenc. With the addition of the BBC tympani, the onrush of orchestral and keyboard energies carries us to a completely satisfying peroration, horn call included.
Camille Saint-Saëns,
by Pierre Petit, 1900
The 1868 Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 22 has had a long and successful history in the repertory, opening with Bach and concluding with Offenbach. Some attribute the lyrical beauties of the first movement to the influence of Saint-Saëns’ own pupil, Gabriel Faure. For the first movement, Lortie’s keyboard cascades and luxuriates in color harmonies, while the orchestra adds mere double-dotted chords and strong pedal points. The conclusion perfectly mirrors the opening of the music, gaining dynamic girth out of the Bach figures and powerfully announcing the resounding chords whose coda lands on a definitive thump. The Allegro scherzando borrows from Chopin’s own Scherzo in E Major and its deft filigree, but only to break into something like a French mountain air. While the tympani and piano set the opening mood, the cellos, violas, and basses carry the lyrical chanson that makes this movement memorable. Later, the woodwinds and French horn contribute to the aerial delights of Saint-Saëns’ imagination. The last movement presents a volatile tarantella, Presto, a real test of pianist and orchestra. Piano trills announce the second subject, and they actually develop into a colloquy of keyboard and strings. Lortie and Gardner move the dialogue along, girded by tympanic impulses, until the swirl culminates once more into the titanic urgency of the tarantula’s bite. Zest and pure bravura mark every measure of this dexterous piece, a superb reading that should receive shelf space alongside those by Rubinstein, Sokolov, and Gilels.
The spirit of Franz Liszt infiltrates the spirit of the 1875 Concerto No. 4 in C minor, with its classical division of two movements that themselves subdivide into two more sections. Four and eight-bar phrases after the C-F# interval run rampant, each based on the small, through-composed kernel that opens the Allegro moderato. The music transitions from dark C minor into a glowing, almost chorale-like A-flat Major. This tune will provide, cyclically, the main chorale of the last movement, with its culmination in a triumphant C Major. But between these major periods flow a series of titanic and scintillating effects, first brought to my attention via the brilliant skills of Robert Casadesus and Alfred Cortot, whom Lortie follows in warm kinship. Moments of sustained pedal effects have Lortie’s sailing over the keys in the pearly sweetness of glowing runs. The second movement has Liszt in mind for the explosive triple meter runs that gallop feverishly across the mind, the C minor affect restored in jaunty, militant figures in 6/8. The opening music returns, so we feel that the concept is all of one cloth, in perpetual, wizardly variation. The buildup to the chorale theme, set in four-bar phrases, sounds as if it were an adumbration of the 1889 Franck Symphony in D minor. Maybe the real analogy lies ahead more directly, in Saint-Saëns’ own Third Symphony. Lortie invests a throbbing energy into the cascades and blistering runs in this virtuoso synthesis of the pure bravura with the chorale motto theme, and the introduction of the BBC brass make the last pages with Gardner prove as reverberant as any of my referred orchestral leaders in this piece, Mitropoulos, Rodzinski, Jarvi, and Horenstein.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 18, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
The Golden Age—Ray Chen plays works by Kreisler, Bruch, Debussy, Gershwin, Scott, and others. Ray Chen (violin), Julien Quentin (piano), London Philharmonic Orchestra, dir. Robert Trevino; Made in Berlin (quartet)—Decca 483-3852—53:26, *****:
The promise of music from the “Golden Age” of violinists—namely by the likes of violinists such as Kreisler, Heifetz, and Joachim and composers like Debussy, Satie, and Gershwin—is the theme behind this new release from Australian violinist Ray Chen. Decca does a superb job of capturing the music in full fidelity, especially so when the music is divided among three ensembles recorded in different locations: violin and piano, violin and orchestra, and string quartet. To my ears, it all sounds as if it was recorded during the same take in the same location. Despite the name of the album, the sound is not pushed behind a gauzy golden veil, but instead is lean and forward. Not every artist might appreciate the transparency of this sound, but it has the effect of putting us, the listeners, right in the front row. It’s really well done.
Claude Debussy, 1908
by Félix Nadar
The piece that might set you back into the Golden Age most forcibly is the performance of Debussy’s Clair de lune, which sounds straight out of a early twentieth century black and white movie. Chen’s collaboration with Noah Bendix-Balgley (violin), Amihai Grosz (viola), and Stephan Koncz (cello)—all from the Berlin Philharmonic—is an especially bright spot on the recording. In the Debussy, Chen does not strain to become the star; when appropriate he tucks his sound into that of the ensemble. Despite only playing a handful of times a year, Made in Berlin is an amazingly tight quartet that stars in three selections.
The opening track, entitled A New Satiesfaction, an arranged composition of Satie’s first Gynopaédie by cellist Stephan Koncz, is an amazingly refreshing piece that steals idioms from multiple sources but ultimately relaxes around the familiar Satie piece for piano. It’s our first taste of Chen’s style, especially from an era criticized by some as having a tad too much schmaltz, especially from the vibrating left hand of these golden era violinists. Chen smartly tempers that reference with what seems, for today at least, a very pragmatic and stylish amount of polish and vibrato. In this short, emotional piece, we begin to fall for both the exquisite sound of his instrument, a Stradivarius once owned by Joseph Joachim, and a very adaptable and controlled technique.
The pieces by Scott, Kreisler, and Ponce are all attractive tastes. Each are beautiful pieces that we can think of as delectable palate teasers. The album notes make reference to beautiful blooms. Either reference—of flowers or of food—are apt. And at the center of the banquet table is the main course (or bouquet) in Max Bruch’s Violin Concerto in G minor.
Max Bruch
The concerto is cut from luminous cloth, and is entirely a romantic and melodic affair. The athletic, technical challenges come in the third movement, and Chen is equally adept at overcoming those challenges in the same way he’s able to revel in the melodic material that dominates the first two movements. Dipping into the schmaltz, the darkest stuff included, is a fun reference to this golden age. Violinist and orchestra together make reference again for me to movie music. Despite the minor key, the third movement spends considerable time in the major mode, the image of two people so happy together. The liner notes tell us the piece’s success owes much to Bruch’s collaboration with Joachim, on whose violin Chen performs. A happy reunion indeed.
This is one of those rare albums for me that gets so much right, deserving of a five star rating. The programming is smart; the inclusion of music written in different formats encourages appreciation of the miniature to the large scale. And while the style of this period has a particularly period reference today, exploring the music again is not a wasted enterprise. To our benefit, we might even go so far to say that the music and the style has improved with age.
—Sebastian Herrera
Link for more information on Ray Chen:
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 18, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
JANACEK: Glagolitic Mass; Sinfonietta; Taras Bulba; The Fiddler’s Child – Hibla Gerzmava, soprano/ Veronica Hajnova, alto/ Stuart Neill, tenor/ Jan Martinik, bass/ Czech Philharmonic Orchestra/ Prague Philharmonic Choir/Jiri Belohlavek – Decca 483 4080 (2 CDs) TT: 100:18 (8/31/18) [Distr. by Universal] *****:
Among the last recordings of the late Jiri Belohlavek (1946-2017), the works of Leos Janacek (1854-1928) figure prominently, constituting as they do a Moravian, nationalist tradition that still manages to convey a universality by dint of Janacek’s striking harmonic imagination and capacity for large symphonic canvases. Between the talents of Belohlavek’s Czech predecessors, Vaclav Talich and Karel Ancerl, the music of Janacek had passionate representation, which here finds a potent complement in these recordings, 2013-2017. We should not forget, moreover, the outstanding performances of Janacek’s works by Rafael Kubelik and Rudolf Kempe, the latter of whom
Leos Janacek, 1926
The 1924 Taras Bulba, Rhapsody for Orchestra after Gogol (rec. 22-24 October 2014) owes its inspiration to Janacek’s devout passion for Russian literature, an enchantment that led him to consider mounting an opera after Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. Gogol conceived his tale of the Cossack warrior in 1835, depicting an adventurer and lover of independence who likewise has an insatiable taste for war. Taras and sons Ostap and Andrei consciously campaign to slaughter any perceived enemies of Christendom. In three movements, the music offers “The Death of Andrei,” “The Death of Ostap,” and “The Death and Prophecy of Taras Bulba.” Andrei dies by his father’s hand, having gone over to the Polish side for love of a woman. Ostap, captured by the Poles, dies a violent death by torture, worthy of Mel Gibson’s William Wallace. Taras Bulba, too, suffers capture in Poland after he and his Cossacks pillage, loot, and burn. Even as the flames surround him to consume his body, Taras predicts a Russian czar will come who will submit to no foreign power. The music literally combines ceaseless energies and slashing rhythms, bells, organ, in short, jarring phrases and piercing colors, such as the E-flat clarinet that declares Ostap’s death agony.
The popular 1926 Sinfonietta (rec. 22-24 February 2017) began as brass and percussion fanfares for a gymnastics festival of the Czech Armed Forces. The city of Brno no less receives homage here. Of particular note are the trombone parts, the harp, the militant tympani, the wild Prestissimo section, and the stunning, pedal-point climaxes that ever blaze in Janacek with modal, apocalyptic fury. The Andante – Allegretto shares many an effect with Bartok of the Concerto for Orchestra.
For the Glagolitic Mass of 1926 (rec. 3-4 October 2013 of the “September 1927” version), Janacek – an unabashed patriot – rejected the traditional Latin for a more “nationalist” expression of Old Church Slavonic of the Ninth Century. Typical of Janacek, the Mass conveys an uneasy piety, at times pungently operatic, at times idyllically pastoral. The pantheistic elements may remind some of the unorthodoxy of the Cathedral of the Sacred Family by Gaudi. The last movements, Postludium and Intrada – Exodus projects a virtuoso organ solo voluntary performed by Ales Barta, followed by a wild Intrada. Of the many individual movements, the Gloria for soprano, tenor, chorus and organ delivers a vision as anguished as it is beautiful.
Jiří Bělohlávek, by Jindřich Nosek
If Antonin Dvorak could be accused of a macabre sensibility in his series of Erben-inspired late symphonic poems, so, too, Janacek found an eerie tale by Svatopluk Cech for the 1912 commission from the Czech Philharmonic for an orchestra piece. The Fiddler’s Child (rec. 1-2 October 1915) might parallel Goethe’s Erl-Koenig, insofar as a dead fiddler appears in spirit to his sleeping child playing his instrument; perhaps intending to draw the child away from the world’s ills, the fiddler manages to destroy the child’s life. The old lady caretaker of the young child proceeds to rock the child’s lifeless body. Janacek adjusts the original tale to conform to a political allegory, with the fiddler alive at first, and the old woman has been replaced by an authoritarian mayor, whose four notes enter on the cellos and double-basses as a kind of “fate” motif. The “wonderful dreams” and possibilities for the child’s future suffer oppression from the likes of the mayor, a clear symbol of tyranny. In the course of the narrative, the low winds enjoy a remarkable series of colors, and the melodic tapestry of the piece becomes exotic and intricate. The piece premiered in 1917.
Recording Producer Jifi Gemrat and his team of engineers deserve high praise for breadth and immediacy of the performances, more than warm tribute to the devoted master Belohlavek, whose passing denies us a major musical talent.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 17, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
SCHUBERT: Hungarian Melody, D. 817; Moments Musicaux, D. 780; Allegretto in C minor, D. 915; Drei Klavierstuecke, D. 946; March in E Major, D. 606 – Carlo Grante, piano – Music&Arts CD-1292, 71:53 (9/21/18) [Distr. by Naxos] ****:
Recorded in Vienna, December 2013, these essentially salon piano of Schubert reveal much of the intricate, lyric character of the composer, intimate and harmonically audacious, often relishing in those “asides” and dramatic “excursions” that justify themselves in the context of the Romantic imagination. Carlo Grante performs upon a 1923 Boesendorfer Imperial provided by Eva and Paul Badura-Skoda, themselves master of the Schubert idiom.
Grante opens with the captivating 1824 Hungarian Melody in B minor, first introduced to this reviewer by Alfred Brendel. Schubert would spent summers at Zseliz, teaching music to the daughters of Count Esterhazy and absorbing the flavors of Austro-Hungary. Essentially a gypsy piece, the music enjoys a flexible, dotted rhythm and syncopations that accent the off-beat, along with grace notes. The music embraces diversions in E minor, back to the home key, and onto the modes of F-sharp. By the time of its spry coda, a warm B Major emerges, the kind of embrace that Johannes Brahms would imitate but rarely surpass. The other “miniature” on this disc, the 1818 March in E Major, D. 606, gives us the resonant militarism of the Austro-Hungarian zeitgeist, rather mono-thematic but wrought in variegated colors. As percussive as the piece can be, Grante invests a wry charm into its fervent cadences.
The six Moments Musicaux of 1828 did not originally exist as a unit. Grante emphasizes the “Swiss” yodel of the opening minuet, a Moderato in C, smoothly gliding into its siciliano second theme, which sings in triplets. The lovely Andantino in A-flat Major evolves into a five-part rondo. Grante’s left hand intones the F-sharp minor arpeggios with studied intimacy. The choppy siciliano, too, enjoys hesitant but palpable grace. The familiar No. 3 in F minor, Allegro moderato, appeared in 1823 under the title “Air Russe.” The Bach influence permeates No. 4 Moderato in C-sharp minor, and its rendition by Rudolf Serkin announces my “The Music Treasury” on KZSU-FM weekly. Grante takes the piece briskly, in the manner of a two-art invention. Despite its percussive quality, Grante softens the texture, moving with suave grace into the major mode and its syncopations, adumbrating the Brahms Op. 39 Waltzes in its pliant drama. The Allegro vivace in F minor gives a binary form whose aggression might suggest Beethoven in an equestrian mode. The No. 6 in A-flat Major, Allegretto, projects a sense of tragic melancholy, despite its minuet form. The harmonic movement of the piece constantly tantalizes the ear, especially the transition from E Major back to A-flat. Curiously, almost adumbrating a gambit of Mahler, Schubert moves to A-flat minor at the coda, a rather desolate epilogue from that composer of “still fairer hopes.”
Franz Schubert,
by Josef Kupelwieser
The Allegretto in C minor, D. 915 (1827) first came my way via Artur Schnabel. In 6/8, the piece evolves almost like an improvisation in the Beethoven style. Some close imitation in the hands, a kind of canon, again pays homage to Beethoven, whose untimely death allowed Schubert to serve as one of the torch bearers. The middle section has a hesitant, chorale quality, with passing dissonances. We might well look to the Beethoven bagatelles for a counterpart, especially when this rather gentle piece builds to a fortissimo climax.
Brahms edited the three pieces that came to be known as Drei Klavierstuecke, D. 946, published some forty years after Schubert wrote them in 1828. The two outer pieces form a frame for the central piece of “heavenly length.” The first piece, Allegro assai, Grante imbues with a feral spirit, a gallop in E-flat minor that inevitably reverts to the major mode. The middle section, in B Major, Grante plays as a meditative improvisation. The No. 2 in E-flat Major projects a kind of barcarolle character in 6/8 in a form that extends into two developed episodes. The first projects emotional turbulence in C minor, the bass line agitated in a way to suggest the Erl-Koenig. The second “digression” after the return of the opening Allegretto proceeds fluently, marked by an eighth-note group in plastic and outwardly extending colors that move through the keyboard. The last piece, in C Major, carries a bit of virtuosic Bohemia, possibly in the manner of a dumka. The outside Allegro in syncopations surrounds a subtle section in 3/2 that seduces us in its mock-martial sensibility. Grante’s 1923 Boesendorfer makes this section alternately hum and swoon in glittering colors.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 15, 2018 | Streams and Podcasts
This week’s show of The Music Treasury will feature works of conductor Sir Hamilton Harty, from the first half of the last century. The show will air from 19:00 to 21:00 on Sunday, 16 September, and will be hosted as always by Dr Gary Lemco. The show may be heard from its host station, KZSU, or streamed live from kzsu.stanford.edu.
Sir Hamilton Harty (1877-1941), conductor and composer
Harty was born in Hillsborough, County Down, Ireland, the fourth of ten children of an Anglican (Church of Ireland) church organist, William Michael Harty (1852–1918), and his wife, Annie Elizabeth. Harty’s father taught him the viola, the piano and counterpoint, and, at the age of 12, he followed his father’s profession and was appointed organist of Magheracoll Church, County Antrim.
Harty took further posts in his teenage years as a church organist in Belfast and Bray. While in Bray, he came under the influence of Michele Esposito, professor of piano at the Royal Irish Academy of Music, who encouraged him to pursue a career as a piano accompanist. As Bray is only 12 miles from Dublin, Harty was able to go into the city to hear an orchestra for the first time in his life. In 1900 or 1901, he moved to London to further his career. The Musical Times later called him “the prince of accompanists.” The Times said of his Comedy Overture, premiered at the Proms in 1907:
It proved to be one of the most successful works the season has brought forth. The frank jollity of its themes and the clearness of their expression, both as regards orchestration and formal structure, make it a delightful “Promenade” piece – that is to say, one which tired people can enjoy at a first hearing and find refreshment in listening to. … The overture was played with evident enjoyment and great spirit by the orchestra under Mr. Wood.
Among those whom Harty accompanied in his early days in London was the soprano Agnes Nicholls, whom he married on 15 July 1904. In the same year, he made his debut as a conductor, in the first performance of his Irish Symphony, at the Feis Ceoil music festival in Dublin. Reviewing the premiere, The Times called the piece, “a work of much promise … received with enthusiasm. It has many ideas, always freshly expressed, and the airs are developed with more than common variety and beauty.” The following year, Harty’s arrangement of Irish songs was included alongside works of Stanford and Vaughan Williams at a recital by Harry Plunket Greene.
Through his wife’s professional connections, Harty secured his first important London conducting engagement, conducting the London Symphony Orchestra (LSO) in a performance of With the Wild Geese in March 1911. The performance was well received, and Harty was engaged to conduct the LSO again during its 1912–13 season. Hoping to repeat his success as a composer-conductor, he gave the first performance of his Variations on a Dublin Air in February 1913. This time, his concerts were not successful with the critics or the public, and the orchestra made a loss and did not invite him back.
Harty was invited to conduct Tristan und Isolde and Carmen at Covent Garden in 1913. His performance as an operatic conductor was less than a triumph. After Carmen, the critic of The Times complained that “Mr Harty’s rigid beat and inflexible tempi petrified [the] delicate and fragile phrases, and made them sound like quotations from some forgotten German score.” Harty later admitted that he was not greatly in sympathy with opera as a genre: “Opera seems to me a form of art in which clumsy attempts are made at defining the indefinable suggestions of music. Or else one in which the author of a plot and his actors are hampered by music which prolongs their gestures and action to absurdity and obscures the sense of their words.”
Returning to symphonic music, Harty conducted the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra in January 1914, and in April he made his début with the Hallé Orchestra in Manchester. He replaced the indisposed Sir Thomas Beecham for performances of Handel’s Messiah in December 1918, Bach’s B minor Mass, and Schubert’s Great C major Symphony in March 1919. In The Manchester Guardian, Samuel Langford wrote, “Mr. Harty has latterly achieved far more immediate control over the orchestra, and his spirit, judgment, and control were … equally admirable.”
Harty was appointed permanent conductor of the Hallé in 1920. Under his baton, the Hallé recovered the eminence it had previously enjoyed under the conductorship of its founder, Charles Hallé, and his successor, Hans Richter. Harty’s skill as a piano accompanist developed into a similar talent for conducting concertos. Writing of his skill as in accompanying either as a pianist or as a conductor, John F. Russell wrote in 1941, “Anybody who heard Harty in his capacity as accompanist could never forget his extraordinary grasp of every nuance and expressive device. There was no question of a solo with accompaniment: unless the soloist was a very great artist the chances were that he would be submerged by the artistry of the accompanist.” Wilhelm Backhaus and others wished they could take the Hallé with them on their international travels. During a Brahms concerto, Artur Schnabel accidentally skipped two bars, but Harty’s rapport with and control of the Hallé was such that he kept up seamlessly with the soloist. Schnabel said afterward that he had never experienced such magnificent accompaniment, but tactlessly added that the Hallé was “almost as good as the Berlin Philharmonic”; Harty corrected him: the Hallé was “better by two bars.”
Harty introduced many new works and composers to Hallé audiences. His programming reflected his passion for the music of Berlioz, and he regularly performed works by contemporary composers including Bax, Moeran, Sibelius, Richard Strauss and Walton. Harty conducted the English premieres of Mahler’s Ninth Symphony (1930) and Shostakovich’s First Symphony (1932), and the first public performance of Constant Lambert’s The Rio Grande (1929), with Harty as pianist and the composer conducting. As a composer, Harty’s best-known works from this period are his lavish re-orchestrations of Handel’s Water Music and Music for the Royal Fireworks.
Harty was knighted in 1925. In 1926 he commissioned a symphony from Moeran, whose Symphony in G minor (1937) was the result, but Harty was too ill to conduct the premiere.
In the Spring of 1934, having severed his links with the Hallé Orchestra, Harty sailed for Australia for what was a hugely successful concert tour. This took place under the auspices of the Australian Broadcasting Company, the quality of whose symphony orchestra Harty did much to advance. A fellow passenger on the ocean voyage was a young woman, Lorie Bolland, with whom Harty rapidly fell in love, though there is no evidence of reciprocity on her part. Harty dedicated two piano pieces to her: Spring Fancy, composed for her birthday on 23 April 1934, and Portrait, written at sea and dated 9 July 1934. These pieces commemorate an episode in the composer’s life that had remained private until their rediscovery among Bolland’s papers in 2010.
In 1936, Harty was diagnosed with a malignant, but operable, brain tumor. During 1937 and 1938 he convalesced in Ireland and Jamaica, using the time to resume composition. He set five Irish songs and wrote his last original composition, the tone poem The Children of Lir. He appeared at a London concert for the first time since the operation in March 1939, conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra in the premiere of this work. He conducted extensively during the 1939–40 season, but his health declined once more with a recurrence of the cancer, and his last public appearance was in December 1940.
Harty and his wife had become estranged, and he was nursed through his final illness by his secretary and intimate friend, Olive Elfreda Baguley. He died in Hove at the age of 61. He was cremated, and his ashes were interred in the grounds of Hillsborough parish church, near the front door. There is a separate memorial in the church. [Adapted from Wikipedia]
According to the Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, “Recordings capture the brilliance of [Harty’s] conducting. They include The Rio Grande, Walton’s First Symphony, some outstanding Berlioz extracts and Elgar’s Enigma Variations and Cello Concerto (with W.H. Squire).” Harty was the conductor of a well-known 1929 recording of Nymphs and Shepherds with the Manchester Children’s Choir. It was a frequent radio request for many years, and was awarded a gold disc by EMI in 1989. Though few of Harty’s compositions continued to be regularly programmed in the concert hall, and even the once-popular Handel arrangements have fallen from favor in the era of authentic period performance, several of his works have been recorded for compact disc, notably by the Ulster Orchestra.
Program List:
Bax: Overture to a Picaresque Comedy
Berlioz: Romeo and Juliet, Op. 17: Romeo Alone and Grand Fete chez Capulet
Purcell: Nymphs and Shepherds
Elgar: The Apostles: By the Wayside
Mendelssohn: Symphony No. 4 in A Major, Op. 90 “Italian”
Weber: Overture to Abu Hassan 3:01
Balakirev: Russia
Walton: Symphony No. 1
by Audiophile Audition | Sep 14, 2018 | Classical CD Reviews
IVES: Concord Sonata (Sonata No. 2 for Piano)—NIELSEN: Three Pieces—ENESCU: Carillon Nocturne—SCHOENBERG: Two Pieces, Op.33—Andrew Rangell, piano. Steinway and Sons 30100, 69:08, ****:
This is a disc of early 20th century piano music performed by the idiosyncratic American pianist Andrew Rangell. The centerpiece is Charles Ives’ Concord Sonata, “whose monumental cussedness, tenderness and imaginative daring epitomize the character and gifts of its Yankee creator …” as the pianist describes it. Surrounding Ives are piano pieces by Carl Nielsen, Arnold Schoenberg and Romanian violinist and pianist George Enescu. Add Steinway’s direct, realistic piano sound and the result is a stimulating pianistic journey.
Portrait of Charles Ives
Fotograf: Eugene Smith, 1945
If ever there was a composer whose life and music represents American diversity, it’s Charles Ives (1874-1954). He was raised in Danbury, Connecticut by his father George, who was a band master for the Union Army in the Civil War. He taught his son the classics, but the young Ives absorbed and loved the diverse music of his New England environment—band marches, church hymn tunes, barn dance fiddling, popular ditties, patriotic melodies and ragtime. Add to this the composer’s predilection for experimentation (new harmonies, polyphony, quirky rhythms, quarter tone intervals, etc.) and the result is a new musical language all his own. Ives learned the compositional basics at Yale University, but when he graduated in 1898, he decided against a career in music and became a partner in the largest insurance agency in America. That freed him to follow an experimental compositional path without worrying about the reaction to his difficult to perform music. Ives became a successful businessman during the day and a composer at night.
In the preface to the Concord Sonata, Ives said, “the whole is an attempt to present [one person’s] impression of the spirit of transcendentalism that is associated in the minds of many with Concord, Mass., of over a half century ago. This is undertaken in impressionistic pictures of Emerson and Thoreau, a sketch of the Alcotts, and a scherzo supposed to reflect a lighter quality which is often found in the fantastic side of Hawthorne.” Although transcendentalism proposed that individual intuitions rather than religious beliefs transcend all nature and humanity, the “Concord” sonata was about music, and an incredibly eccentric vision for its time.
Carl Nielsen
Rhythm is so irregular that it was written without bar lines. In the original version for piano, a wooden mallet smashing down on keys produces tone clusters in “Hawthorne.” Yet Beethoven’s four note opening of the Fifth Symphony appears regularly, as does “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean.” In the original version for piano, a solo viola can invade “Emerson” and a flute in “Thoreau.” In this performance Rangell shows his own individuality by playing the optional viola part in “Emerson” on the piano and using his own forearm to create the tone clusters in “Hawthorne.” Even more unique, Rangell replaces the flute solo in “Thoreau” with whistling.
As I listened I saw Ives himself whistling and smiling. There was something organic about the melody emerging from the pianist and Rangell is a good whistler. He calls the Ives “a romantic sonata” and his performance is dramatic, contemplative, nostalgic and humorous. It’s much less radical now as we venture into the 21st century.
Arnold Schoenberg,
Shoenberg Archives at USC
You would never recognize Carl Nielsen’s last piano work, Three Pieces, Op. 59 from his symphonies. Yet they are a good pairing with the Ives, as they are “searching, and disruptive” as Rangell describes them. Yet the Adagio is contemplative and probing. George Enescu’ Carillon Nocturne from the Suite No. 3 is an attractive reverie on the “echoing sounds of monastery bells.” Rangell compares it to an evocation of time and place, like Ives’ evocation of Thoreau. Schoenberg’s Op. 33a and Op. 33b, his last pieces for solo piano, are calmer than his more serious twelve-tone compositions, even amusing in places. But there’s enough events to remind the listener of Ives. The selection of these short pieces prepare the listener for the quixotic variety of the monumental Ives’s sonata.
Andrew Rangell’s performance of these early 20th century works (the Ives is a masterpiece) captures the essence of their romantic yet revolutionary roots.
—Robert Moon
