by Audiophile Audition | Aug 24, 2020 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews
BRAHMS: Symphony No. 3 in F Major, Op. 90; Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Op. 98 – NBC Symphony Orchestra/ Leopold Stokowski – Pristine Audio PASC 602, 74:58 [www.pristineclassical.com] *****:
The Third Symphony of Johannes Brahms (1882) tries hard to fall into F minor – involving a constant tension between A and A-flat in the course of the motto theme’s “Free but Happy”/”Free but Lonely” dichotomy – but the spirit of reluctant optimism manages to hold forth. Leopold Stokowski, in his first season as chief conductor of the NBC Symphony, addresses the Third Symphony – which he describes in his brief introductory remarks as a work of “fiery agitation, melancholy, tranquility, childlike simplicity” – with firm but rhapsodic intensity, delivering a performance noted for its speed, considering the much broader tempos that mark his 1959 reading in Houston (on Everest EVC 9016).
Stokowski’s performance at the Cosmopolitan Opera House (4 November 1941) enjoys a thrilling resonance, courtesy of Andrew Rose and his patented XR restoration engineering. The immediate tensions of the opening movement emerge in sensitive colors, especially in the NBC clarinet. Clara Schumann saw in the opening Allegro con brio rays of sunshine. Elgar found the entire work the very model of the symphony as he would conceive it. Stokowski omits the repeat and takes the development section at a robust pace, managing the cross-rhythms with eclat. The broad treatment of the motto phrase in the French horn and surrounding winds ushers in the recapitulation in wind-swept terms. A suggestion of the waltz characterizes the dreamy secondary motive, of which some commentators note a similarity to the chorus of women’s voices in the Venusberg scene in Wagner’s Tannhauser. The last pages only reinforce Stokowski’s tendency for rapid changes in tempo, which the NBC players execute deftly.
The two interior movements, Andante and Poco allegretto, respectively, emphasize the Brahms capacity for autumnal lyricism, the Andante’s having the quality of a chorale and rhapsody, at once. While moments of ominous menace cloud the passing tissue of the progression, the impression of “an idyll in a forest shrine” in Clara Schumann’s estimation prevails. Stokowski imbues its more fervent passages with a manic rapture, even marked by the Beethoven “fate motif.” Clara Schumann called the third movement “a grey pearl dipped in a tear of woe.” The cellos and violins announce the warm romance of the third movement, whose mysteries informed the film Undercurrent with Robert Mitchum and Katherine Hepburn. Stokowski pushes and pulls the tempo in his own notion of rubato, much in the Mengelberg manner. The Trio section plays in the manner of one of the Brahms serenades. With a vibrant surge, the last movement Allegro sallies forth in the minor mode of F, soon to announce its kinship with Beethoven overtly. Only at the end of a potent struggle does the major transformation reign victorious, what Clara Schumann reveled in as “the final transfiguration that begins with such beauty in the development motif that words fail me.” Stokowski, who likes to subdue the final apotheosis of a work – refer to his preferred end to Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet – brings the various, even explosive, impulses of the muscular, cyclical movement to a hushed close, much to the appreciation of a rapt audience.
Portrait Johannes Brahms, 1889
by C Brasch
The 1885 Fourth Symphony (rec. 18 November 1941 at the Cosmopolitan Opera House) receives a driven performance, in keeping with Stokowski’s appraisal of the work as “rich and deep and dark,” and the first movement’s Allegro non troppo’s “fiery impetuosity.” Conceived in a series of long-lined phrases of rising and falling thirds, the sighing of the first movement reveals a melancholy symmetry, forceful and resigned to an ineluctable fate. Stokowski likes to emphasize the aspect of the dialogue between competing phrases. A degree of portamento sneaks into the line at the recapitulation, dramatic and effective. Even the “tango” rhythm Brahms invokes assumes a pungent flair, incisive and heartfelt, respectively. The collision of impulses moves in stretto to the dynamic coda, one of the more hectically controlled realizations one might experience, powerful enough to evoke hearty, sustained applause from the audience.
The E Major horn-phrased, Phrygian progression that announces the Andante moderato plays as an emotional anodyne to the furies of the first movement. After the staccato gestures dissipate, the Brahms predilection for warm consolation bursts forth in the Stokowski-string-sound manner. A veiled mystery descends upon the procession, with hints of spirituality and possible transfiguration. The cross-rhythms in strings and winds, over a rolled tympani, convey a valediction forbidding mourning. This impulse becomes heroic in its counterpoint, and Stokowski realizes an epic sonority through his players.
Suddenly, a moment of the rough humor in Brahms breaks out in a rare form of the Scherzo. This performance hustles, bustles, and trips lightly, much in the manner of the Academic Festival Overture. A pizzicato thump announces the heraldic Trio section, with some fine color in oboe and horns. The whole proceeds as a virtuoso etude for the NBC Symphony, a demonstration of superb ensemble, though its apparent joviality and assertion merely serves to preface one of the more dire finales – Allegro energico – in symphonic literature. The chorale theme – from Bach’s Cantata No. 150 “Nach dir, Herr, verlanget mich” translates to “I long to be near you, Lord,” In eight measures inviting an archaic passacaglia. The 32 variations that follow explore both musicality and character, particularly in the flute variation. A combination of resolve and mystical dread permeates the dirge, though its moments of rebellion lift our spirits. The pungent horns of the NBS renew their strident attacks, the pedal stringendo occurs forcefully as it had in the first movement. The music descends, like Dante, into the depths only to rise again in polyphonic and syncopated – triumph – or maybe not, perhaps, to quote Yeats, vehement, “passionate intensity.” The audience has been receptively spellbound throughout.
—Gary Lemco
Please visit Pristine Classical Website for more information:
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 24, 2020 | Pop/Rock/World CD Reviews, SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
Jonathan Richman – I, Jonathan – Rounder Records (1992)/Craft Recordings CR00283 (2020) stereo vinyl, 38:23 ****1/2:
(Jonathan Richman – guitar, bass, vocals;John Rinkor – bass, percussion – guitar, Jim Washburn – bass; John Girton – guitar; Josef Marc – guitar, drums, vocals; Ned “Trem” Claflin – tremolo guitar, vocals; Jason Wilkinson – drums, percussion; Andy Paley – drums; Brennan Totten – drums; Steve Nobles – percussion; Mike Buckmaster – percussion; Willie Robertson – percussion; Tom Nelson – vocals; Scot Woodland – vocals)
Jonathan Richman experienced his first musical inroad as the founding member of the proto–punk group The Modern Lovers. The mixture of “lo-fi” garage band music was inspired by indie bands like Velvet Underground. While Richman never garnered commercial success with The Modern Lovers, his whimsical songwriting and accessible singing saw a resurgence with members of his former band as a solo artist. With Rounder Records in the late 80’s and early 90’s, Richman connected with releases like Jonathan Richman (1989), Jonathan Goes Country (1990), Having A Party With Jonathan Richman (1991) and his most successful project, I, Jonathan (1992). His eclectic career perseveres to this day.
Craft Recordings has released the first-ever vinyl of I Jonathan. The ten original compositions offer a glimpse into the wry observational contexts of this songwriter. The term “garage band” has deep roots in rock and roll, dating back decades. The album consists of ten concise songs that feel like they’re being performed by a group of friends. So it is no surprise that the opening track of Side A (“Parties In The U.S.A.”) is introduced with a repeat three-chord groove as Richman pays name-checking verbal homage to “Louie, Louie” and “Little Latin Lupe”. The straight-forward hook is steady and the history of partying is celebrated with a talking and singing delivery. Richman’s strumming guitar and vocals recall classic “house” songs, with a direct musical snippet of “Hang On Sloopy”. His nostalgia for 60’s streamlined acoustics is palpable. The low-key approach and good-natured reflections are accessible. “Tandem Jump” has a surf music vibe (juxtaposed against sky diving) with a slightly harder edge from two electric guitars. The range of subject matter is woven into the festive arrangements. On “You Can’t Talk To The Dude” the scaled-back arrangement (hand-clapping, guitar, voice) is pleasantly off-beat as Richman offers empathy to a woman with a non-communicative boyfriend. The steady rhythm is infectious through most of the numbers.
Richman’s vocal style emulates Lou Reed (he is a huge fan). So “Velvet Underground” is his unabashed nod to the New York-based band. It begins with crisp 50’s guitar hooks. At the 1:14 mark, Richman incorporates elements of “Sister Ray” in a deeper Lou-Reed voice. He returns to the jaunty rock aesthetic with humorous asides about “guitars that sell for $29.99” and “the heat’s turned off, ‘cause you can’t pay the bills”. Perhaps the commercial standout from I Jonathan is “I Was Dancing In The Lesbian Bar”. With infectious r & b-laced riffs on guitar, the singer muses about party life (In the first bar, things were stop and stare, in this bar, things were laissez-faire”). He repeats the rhyming inflections and the head-nodding tempo. It is relentlessly positive. Side B kicks off with “Rooming House On Venice Beach”. Richman integrates a new wave beatnik structure into his ambivalent reminiscence about the post-70’s L.A. scene. The “oo-wah” backup vocals are a nice touch. His narrative duality continues on “That Summer Feeling”. Richman looks back on the the evocative growing pains of youth, but intones that “it will haunt you one day in your life”. There is a gentle swaying dynamic with hushed chant that fits seamlessly with the melancholy. Returning to the world of Dickie Dale, “Grunion Run” is a hard-edged instrumental with vitality. “A Higher Power” is joyous and more direct. Richman gleefully sings about the cosmic mystery of romance. The finale, “Twilight In Boston” is a slower “talking” recollection of his life in Boston. There are some nimble guitar lines (Josef Marc) to frame the narration.
I Jonathan is an excellent representation of pop music sensibilities. The songs are well-crafted, listenable and simply put…fun! Craft Recordings has done an outstanding job in re-mastering this album to vinyl. Sparse instrumentation and centered vocals are warm, capturing the intimacy of a distinctive singer-songwriter. The overall mix is balanced and more expansive as you listen with stereo headphones.
TrackList:
Side A: Parties In The U.S.A.; Tandem Jump; You Can’t Talk To The Dude; Velvet Underground; I Was Dancing In The Lesbian Bar
Side B: Rooming House On Venice Beach; That Summer Feeling; Grunion Run; A Higher Power; Twilight In Boston
—Robbie Gerson
Please visit Craft Recordings Website for more information:
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 21, 2020 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews
Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra: The Early Years, Vol. 2, 1937-1941 = Works by TELEMANN; MOZART; SIBELIUS; BEETHOVEN; ENESCU – Pristine Audio PASC 605 (2 CDS) 63:19; 68:48 [www.pristineclassical.com] ****:
[Complete list of works appended below]
Recording engineer and producer Mark Obert-Thorn extends his major restoration of Eugene Ormandy’s orchestral repertory in the early days of his tenure with the Philadelphia Orchestra. The Telemann and Mozart works that appear in this collection never received Ormandy’s efforts once the recording process developed further along into the long-play and digital formats. Let’s state, early on, that Obert-Thorn’s sound restorations belie the age of the documents, whose side joins from the shellacs have virtually disappeared.
Ormandy’s foray into the Baroque era gives us Telemann’s Suite in A Minor (rec. 15 March 1941), featuring the gifted William Kincaid. Originally conceived for recorder and strings, the music embodies what scholars call Telemann’s “mixed style” of national composition, that embraced more than French influences but extended into Moravian, Italian, and Polish as well as German traits, some of which he admired for their “barbaric beauty.” Ormandy amended his edition so the Suite would more resemble Bach’s B Minor Suite for flute and strings. Still, the resulting sound and interplay of dances prove sumptuous, and Kincaid’s fluency – listen to his seamless Air a L’Italienne – soars. Ormandy’s having moved the Rejouissance movement to the end completes the Bach analogy perfectly.
Among Mozart’s many “outdoor” creations – he referred to them as ‘cassations’ – we have the 1776 Divertimento in F Major (rec. 17 April 1938), written for Countess Antonia Lodron, especially for her name-day festivities. Mozart’s divertimentos abound in rich solo first violin parts, and they vary their textures with part writing that reveals a lyric fluency that might have benefitted even more had Mozart urged himself further as a violinist. Of especial note is the lovely Andante grazioso in C Major, which resonates in character like the corresponding movement of the later Eine kleine Nachtmusik. The Menuetto plays with dynamic contrasts, to which the horns either extend or interrupt. The witty Trio section is set in the minor mode. The final movement opens with a brief, chromatic Andante that moves into the Allegro assai. A robust rondo in F with a scalar arpeggio, its episodes have an exciting series of modulations into C, D Minor, and B-flat Major. The natural F horns have their respective moments. The coda has a nice touch, proffering a soft, lulling accompaniment in imitation between first violin and the horns.
Ormandy recorded the Beethoven Symphony No. 1 on 9 January 1937, a document RCA meant to replace Mengelberg’s version in the catalogue. Ormandy takes the first movement repeat, which gives the reading an added girth. The various Mannheim rocket figures play exceedingly well, and the Philadelphia low bass line quite throbs in power. The elegant Andante grazioso proceeds nobly, its imitative effects light and airy. Beethoven flouts convention slightly by having his trumpet and tympani effects prominent. We hear Kincaid’s magic flute in answer to various, often canonic, textures as they emerge. Ormandy’s Menuetto has the lusty, thrusting energy that well adumbrates the later scherzos in Beethoven’s output. The Trio has a veiled string sound that adds to the color excitement of the performance. The Adagio opening of the last movement exploits those scalar tidbits that will accumulate to a full-scale romp, Allegro molto e vivace, in which strings, brass and tympani have their spirited wit that manages, barely, to remain within the confines of the symphonic form Haydn and Mozart had established but at which the young upstart Beethoven had begun to nibble.
The Sibelius group benefits from Ormandy’s long advocacy, beginning with a staid, resolute reading of the ubiquitous Finlandia (20 October 1940, on the occasion of Sibelius’ 75th birthday), which accelerates in tempo while maintaining the full measure of the Philadelphia’s brass and wind sonorities. Given the political tenor of the times, the reading becomes so much more wrenching. The Swan of Tuonela (20 October 1940) exploits the often ethereal Philadelphia string sound, along with John Minsker’s plaintive English horn solo. The music’s vague kinship with Wagner’s Tristan retains their common theme of love and death. Lemminkainen’s Return (20 October 1940) constitutes the last of the four sections of the tone-poem cycle of 1895, vaguely following events in the Kalevala legends. The intense, rhythmic vigor of the piece makes me wish Kajanus had recorded it. Lemminkainen returns not from the land of the dead, Tuonela, but from a frustrated military incursion against the people of Pohjola who had burnt his native village. The music captures the clash of the militant forces in resounding Lisztian fashion.
The major Sibelius entry, the 1899 Symphony No. 1 in E Minor (rec. 25 October 1941) has from Ormandy his second recorded effort, the first having been done in Minneapolis. Given a world on the verge of WW II, the nationalist spirit of the work resonates with particular vibrancy. The germinal motif on the clarinet over a timpani roll suddenly surges forth, Allegro energico, with tempestuous blasts from the brass and swirling motifs from passing winds and harp. The full theme in the Philadelphia strings has that “Hollywood” glow that Stokowski had cultivated. The spirit of Tchaikovsky – in point the Pathetique Symphony – colors the Andante movement, where the dialogue of two bassoons and strings provides what Sibelius explicitly labeled “a Finnish sound.” Ormandy’s rendition provides a wealth of attentive color detail.
The music of Anton Bruckner likewise held a fascination for Sibelius, and his thunderous Scherzo: Allegro abounds in the Brucknerian propensity for cross-rhythm and intricate woodwind fugato. A sudden halt in the momentum announces the Trio section, a kind of pastoral interlude tinged with romantic reminiscence. The Finale: Quasi una fantasia recalls the opening movement, in the manner of the Tchaikovsky Fourth Symphony. The music features a clearly inspired secondary theme, sung in strings and harp, that will carry the movement to its heroic conclusion, the coda marked by two pizzicato chords in strummed harmony.
By coincidence, the first recording I ever owned of Enescu’s Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 (and Two) featured Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia, made in the early 1960s. This reading (1 August 1941) has all the sonic virtues we could wish, perhaps mostly through the courtesies and efforts of Leopold Stokowski’s personnel choices. The harp and viola parts stand out, as does the sheer, ravishing sheen of the violins. Nothing about this virtuoso rendition of this spectacular orchestral showpiece drags: Ormandy runs briskly and affectionately through the lassu to get to the unbuttoned rustle of the friss. Once more, William Kincaid’s talented flute leads a chorus of inspired woodwinds over a throbbing bass line that soon explodes with gypsy life. Obert-Thorn in his note calls the reading one of “incredible speed and excitement,” and who am I to disagree?
—Gary Lemco
Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra – The Early Years, Vol 2:
TELEMANN: Suite for Flute and Strings in A Minor;
MOZART: Divertimento No. 10 in F Major for Szrings and 2 Horns, K. 247;
BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 1 in C Major, Op. 21;
SIBELIUS: Finlandia, Op. 26; Lemminkainen’s Return, Op. 22, No. 4; Symphony No. 1 in E Minor, Op. 39; The Swan of Tuonela, Op. 22, No. 2;
ENESCU: Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 in A Major, Op. 11 –
William Kincaid, flute/ The Philadelphia Orchestra/ Eugene Ormandy
For more information, please visit Pristine Classical Website:
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 21, 2020 | Classical CD Reviews, Classical Reissue Reviews
DVORAK: Symphony No. 9 in E minor, Op. 95 “From the New World”; JANACEK: Taras Bulba – Rhapsody for Large Orchestra – Vienna Symphony Orchestra (Dvorak)/ Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra – Jascha Horenstein – Pristine Audio PASC 603, 68:41 [www.pristineclassical.com] ****:
Dvorak’s 1893 Symphony No. 9 n E Minor, early in the conducting career of Jascha Horenstein (1989-1973), provided a familiar vehicle for his colorful energies This performance for Vox Records, 1952, pre-dates by three years one of two equally effective readings by Ferenc Fricsay, that with his RIAS Symphony, made in 1955, among my preferred readings. The Horenstein enjoys – despite the relative haste demanded by Vox – an easy, fluid sense of line, always sensitive to rhythmic flexibility and individual tonal nuances. The slow introduction to the Adagio has not the tragic presence of Fricsay, but the horns keep the quiet, syncopated fanfare over the strings’ tremolo in taut relation. The fluent transition to the Allegro moderato takes us, respectively, from G Minor to G Major, the flute and clarinet in good voice over a rustic, and I daresay, Bohemian drone. The melody may bear some influence from H.T. Burleigh. The fluidity of movement, its plastic velocity, reminds me much of the famed George Szell rendition in Cleveland. For pure, optimistic Dvorak, I would suggest the inexhaustible vision of Vaclav Talich.
Portrait of Antonin Dvorak
Horenstein savors the manifold colors of the Largo movement, of which the English horn solo, beautifully inflected, provides only one of many sensitive moments. The easy pulsations, the guided rubatos, work well to enhance the emotional tenderness of effect. The move from E Minor to D-flat proves arresting, and it will recur at the coda of this fine moment of Slavic homesickness, embracing the American tune “Goin’ Home,” which many us remember having been sung by Jan Clayton near the end of the fine psychological drama The Snake Pit, with a potent acting job from the late Olivia de Haviland. The small string ensemble, the moment of camber music intimacy comes off quite well, a good rival to the other of Fricsay’s New World renditions, the 1960 performance from Berlin, 1960.
Whether the frenetic dance motif of the Scherzo: Molto vivace owes debts to both Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha and to the Scherzo from Beethoven’s Ninth is open to eternal debate. Horenstein’s ensemble relishes, the colors, often richly combined in syncopation and stretto. The Trio section has elements of Slavic folk dance, especially the furiant, in its easy, swirling motions, tinted by the winds and triangle. The outer sections, colored by horns, brisk string work, bassoon, and tympani, ring with piquant authority. Every phrase arises in molded harmony, fluid and virile with Dvorak’s dancing, kinetic energy. The finale, Allegro con fuoco, launches forth its evocation of the Bohemian homeland with robust vigor, and the Vienna brass and strings appear especially urgent. The tensions and wistful homesickness of the music move in a seamless sonata-form so brilliantly crafted, it becomes an art that conceals art. The warmth of the symphonic line – originally a bit thin-sounding in the original Vox LP – has here in its Pristine incarnation the benefit of Andrew Rose’s XR process remastering that now compels our aural dedication. The extended coda, rife with allusions to prior motifs, quite trembles with renewed, virtually apocalyptic energy, a testament to the composer and his faithful adherents.
Jascha Horenstein appears before the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra in Edinburgh on 20 August 1961, having replaced an indisposed Rafael Kubelik. He leads the 1915 three-part tone-poem Taras Bulba by Leos Janacek, based on a colorful, 1835 Russian tale by Nlkolai Gogol, who wanted to demonstrate that “in the whole world there are not fires or tortures strong enough to destroy the vitality of the Russian nation.” The story is set in sixteenth-century Ukraine, then under the rule of Poland. Taras Bulba, a fiercely dedicated Cossack, remains a warrior for life – recall Yul Brynner in the film version – and he pushes his sons onto the battlefield as their real source of education, only to watch them die. Each of the three sections deals with treachery and death.
The Berlin Philharmonic under Horenstein has every opportunity to display its potential for potent color effects. The Death of Andrei features pungent harmonies, likely taken from the Moravian dialect that Janacek knew, as well as its rich legacy of folk rhythms. The Death of Ossip features a high squeal from the E-flat clarinet that announces the Poles’ torture of Taras’ son, a sound not too far from Till Eulenspiegel’s strangled cry from Richard Strauss. The quirky mazurka that ensues has a macabre fascination, a blend of victory and violence. Taras Bulba, in a thwarted attempt to avenge his son, suffers capture and death by fire. “Can such forces overcome Russian strength?” queries Gogol. The music, almost a moto-perpetuo in apotheosis, makes answer: in brass, bells and deep organ tones, the spirit of Taras Bulba floods our sensibilities in the guise of a colossal, Moravian chorale. I first came to this inspired music through the studio, of Vaclav Talich’s performance with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra. This live radio incarnation of the Berlin Philharmonic under its venerable guest-conductor testifies to an immediate kinship of rarified spirits.
—Gary Lemco
Please visit Pristine Classical Website for more information:
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by Audiophile Audition | Aug 20, 2020 | Component Reviews
Near-Field Nirvana Upcoming – Corner Industry News Update
Well, Fall is almost upon us and my sound space is starting to cool off a bit from the Dog Days of Summer. There has been somewhat of a drought of acquiring new gear to review, because of COVID 19. I have spoken with many manufacturers who say that demand is high for products, but there are difficulties with their supply chains to purchase materials to manufacture goods. Also, retrofitting work place environments to accommodate safety and the health of their workforce has been time consuming.
Coming Soon
The Near-Field Nirvana expects to shortly have in his hands the new ELAC/Audio Alchemy stack, Amp, Preamp/DAC and Phono-Preamp. Also, the now classic Mahi-Mahi EL 84 tube mono-blocks. Praying for the arrival of the Zu Audio bookshelf speakers utilizing there unique horn like technology. It will be fun pairing those 97 dB efficient speakers up with the Manley amps. Maybe even pair up the Rogue Audio Sphinx 3 with them, which was recently reviewed?
Manley MAHI Amplifier
Turntable on the Cheap
I recently had a chance to listen to a vintage Hegeman HAPI 2 preamp, circa late 1970’s. This piece was designed by the late and great audio designer, Stu Hegeman of Harmon/Kardon Citation tube fame. Rare as hen’s teeth to see or even hear on of those! My buddy, Dick McConser loaned me the piece. I did not have a MM cartridge handy, so I plugged in my low output Ortofon MC into the preamp via my Rega 3 TT, and I could hear the potential how good it might sound with my Shure V15 type 3 cartridge. I just detest changing cartridges on the Rega, because of the fixed head shell and VTA issues.
So, I thought I would call my quality used Vintage Audio shop here in town and ask what was on the menu for cool old turntables? Doug said, ”NONE!” What, but you always have a half a dozen on hand? He said with the C-19 pandemic people were staying home listening to their old vinyl collections, or shopping for used LP’s. He told me a turntable only lasts one day in the shop. Prices were up too. Craigslist was no bargain to shop for used.
Audio-Technica AT-120XUSB Turntable
Ok, I wanted to spend only around $200. So, I remembered that Audio-Technica was still making a bunch of turntables. I called them and spoke with the order desk, they informed me they were back ordered up to nine months on most of the models! Their parts suppliers were affected by the virus. Wow! Plan C. I called a local dealer here and asked if they had any stock on hand of the AT tables. Curt said they had only ONE unit of the model I wanted. The AT-120XUSB direct drive with removable head shell. Wrap it up Curt, I’m coming to pick it up and I’ll take two extra head shells to go. Total $250. I picked it up yesterday at the drive-thru masked window. Terrific and thank you Echo Audio!
I rolled the car up the driveway and expected a box resembling an overweight pizza box. NOT! The box was big and rather heavy. I always equate poundage with quality. I must say, always been a fan of a good direct drive heavy table. More on that and the un-boxing of the unit.
Stay Tuned for Things to Come
Keep Listening and Be Safe,
—Ric Mancuso
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 20, 2020 | Classical CD Reviews
The French Album = FAURE: Pavane, Op. 50; DEBUSSY: Les Collines D’Anacapri; La terasse des audiences du clair de lune; Clair de lune; Ce qu’a a vu le vent D’Ouest; Voiles; Le Cathedral engloutie; Feux d’artifice; Feuilles mortes; La Puerta del Vino; La soiree dans Grenade; RAMEAU: Les Tricolets; Munuets 1&2; L’Egyptienne; CHABRIER: Habanera; RAVEL: Alborada del gracioso; Pavane pour une infant defunte – Jorge Federico Osorio, piano – Cedille CDR 90000 197, 75:10 (8/14/20) [Distr. by Naxos] ****:
Lovingly recorded 14-15 January 2020 at the Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts at the University of Chicago, under the production supervision of James Ginsburg, Jorge Federico Osorio and his Steinway pay homage to the pianist’s affection for the French keyboard tradition.
Osorio opens with the original piano version Gabriel Faure’s 1887 Pavane in F-sharp Minor, Op. 50. An unaffected, uncluttered, lyric sentiment, the melody proceeds along the direct expressivity established by Faure’s teacher, Saint-Saens. Rhythmic, in the style of a Spanish dance, this music forms a close kinship with another Pavane, that of Maurice Ravel. The harmonization for the keyboard alerts our sense of color without sacrificing any of the music’s innate vocalism.
In direct contrast by juxtaposition, we hear the first of eight piano preludes (1910-1914) created by Claude Debussy, ever the experimenter in keyboard sonority, whose colorful titles come as “post-scripts” to the sounds already proffered us by the performer. Generally, Debussy’s preludes conform neither to traditional harmony nor to formal procedure, having taken his cue from the 1889 Paris Universal Exposition, which exposed him to the gamelan orchestra from Java. Debussy, in 1906, wrote: “Do you remember the Javanese music, able to express every shade of meaning, even unmentionable shades. . .which make our tonic and dominant seem like ghosts, for use by naughty little children?” Debussy lent an ear to Medieval music, Spanish music, the popular music-hall, and plainchant. He relies on pentatonic and whole-tone scales, the latter of which deny any sense of cadential closure. And his chosen “titles” serve merely as suggestions, taken from Mallarme’s principle of dreaming of an identity, since to name an object means to rob it of its multiple possibilities.
Osorio sets the Debussy group with Les collines d’Anacapri in B Major, a piece in close sympathy with Franz Liszt and his Les cloches de Geneve, the Bells of Geneva. Neapolitan harmonies and an alert sense of piano resonance defines this wonderfully buoyant miniature. La terrace des audiences au clair de lune derives from Book II (1912), an Eastern, exotically atmospheric often sensually delicate picture possibly motivated by the coronation of King George V as Emperor of India. Clair de Lune (1890) remains among the most universal of musical moments, conceived as part of the Suite bergamasque after the poet Paul Verlaine. Every piano collector has his own favorite rendition, as far back as Walter Gieseking, George Copeland, and Robert Casadesus. Ce qu’a a vu le vent d’Ouest from Book I presents another jolt by juxtaposition: after the lulling grace of Moonlight, Debussy’s West Wind proffers a blizzard of Lisztian, virtuoso keyboard sound, a malevolent force of Nature, perhaps a model for Ravel’s Scarbo. The rising scale patterns may have a touch of Mussorgsky.
From the blatantly volcanic to the suggestive, we move to Voiles, or Sails, which exploits both whole tone and pentatonic scales to create an amorphous, other-worldly continuum. Shimmering B-flats abound in this exotic exercise, whose title may be translated “Veils.” Beardsley’s Salome or the American dancer Loie Fuller? You decide. La Cathedrale engloutie takes it literary cue from Y’s in Brittany, the place of Tristan und Iseult. The cathedral allegedly sank due to its practitioners’ heresy, but the structure rises from beneath the waves in a stunning triumph of parallel fifths, tone clusters, and octaves, cooperating, in a gradual fortissimo, as the bells of the cathedral and its organ’s playing for faithful worshippers. Eventually, the waves swallow up the structure as it recedes into our collective unconscious.
The prelude Feux d’artifice or Fireworks seems to celebrate Bastille Day on the verge of the outbreak of WW I. A wonderful touch-piece, the work serves as a toccata in the spirit of Stravinsky’s Petrushka. Again, rich and kaleidoscopic color juxtaposes against the barren, falling appoggiatura of Feuilles mortes, Dead Leaves. This is T.S. Eliot in music, with oblique allusions to Verlaine’s “long sobs of the violins of autumn. . .which wound my heart.” The broken chordal pattern well appealed to Bartok, who chose Debussy as his mentor when in Paris.
Jorge Federico Osorio
Osorio plays three selected Rameau pieces from the c. 1726 Suite in G, beginning with the delicate rondeau “Les Tricolets.” The two Menuets have a meditative character, even the deliberate pace of a refined musical box. The last of the three works, “L’Egyptienne,” revels in chromatic colors and repeated notes, all taken in a brisk, elastic tempo. Playful and richly embroidered, the piece tests Osorio’s delicate virtuosity.
I always find Emmaneul Chabrier’s music refreshing and delightfully inventive; at his best, he can write a captivating melody. His trip to Spain begat his immortal Espana Rhapsody and the piece we hear from Osorio, the 1885 Habanera, a paean to Cuba. In 2/4, the piece treads a slow but sultry evocation of a lover’s tryst, maybe with Lombard and Raft, three generations of film-goers ago. The Iberian sensibility extends into Debussy’s La Puerta del Vino, an evocation of the Moorish Alhambra Palace in Grenada, Spain. Pedal points on A-flat and D-flat set the allure of the habanera rhythm, which intensifies to the point of a descent of a minor third into B-flat. More sensuous motifs arise in La soiree dans Granade, rich with strummed guitars and invested by Arabic scale patterns. Like the picture of the Wine Gate prior, this habanera resonates with the timeless erotics of flamenco.
In 1905, Ravel paid tribute to his Basque origins in the course of his set of Miroirs, which includes memories of Spain via the composer’s Paris apartment. The Alborado del gracioso provides “morning music” in the context of an intensely fingered etude, whose quick repeated notes challenge even the great pianists, like Lipatti. A combination of Spanish song, parody, and scintillating runs, the work appeals to the kaleidoscope – via a Phrygian mode of D minor and major – of human emotions, especially after a night of romantic tryst, the passions still in a swirl. Osorio closes with Ravel’s direct homage to his teacher Faure, in the 1899 Pavane for a Long-gone Princess. A simple, arresting melody over broken chords sets the refined tone of the songful dirge. Osorio imbues the work, as he has all through this recital, with a noble, sturdy intensity that relents when delicacy demands his strict attention to good taste.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 17, 2020 | Jazz CD Reviews, SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
Bill Evans – At The Montreux Jazz Festival – Verve Records V6-8763 (1968)/Analogue Productions/Universal Music Group APJ 8762-45 [distr. by Acoustic Sounds] 200-gram 45 – rpm stereo double vinyl Limited Edition, 48:16 *****:
(Bill Evans – piano; Eddie Gomez – double bass; Jack DeJohnette – drums)
As a new generation discovers the joys of hi-res and vinyl analog music, Analogue Productions stands at the forefront. Under the direction of founder Chad Kassem, a a passion for the restoration of vintage music has been driven by unprecedented refined technology. With the formation of this label, audiophile re-mastering of various recordings from labels such as Columbia, Verve, Impulse!, Fantasy, Blue Note and Prestige Records are now available. One of the key components to this successful musical innovation is the commitment to using original source material… master analog tapes!. For vinyl, the utilization of “thicker” (180-gram, 200-gram) 12” platters has been integral. With the formation of Quality Sound Pressings, the upgraded, modified technology has transformed analog recording, creating a bona fide audiophile recording with heightened attention to quality control. Additionally, CDs, SACDs and uncompressed downloads in Direct Stream Digital (DSD) and PCM Audio Formats are available.
Analogue Productions has produced a sparking re-mastered 200-gram 45 rpm double vinyl of the 1968 concert, Bill Evans–At The Montreux Jazz Festival. Released in 1968 on Verve Records, the album won the Grammy for Best Jazz Instrumental Album, Individual Or Group. it seems appropriate that the work of Evans, a trailblazing jazz pioneer, gets a dual-pronged upgrade. Evans connected to various different groups, not solely jazz fans. At the 1968 Montreux Jazz Festival, Bill cast a giant shadow, With Eddie Gomez (double bass) and Jack Dejohnette, the trio was looking to have an impact on the festival. After concert musical co-promoter Geo Voumand introduces the trio (in French), they hit an immediate swing groove on “One For Helen”. Evans masterful technique of executing different tempos with each hand bristles with syncopated resonance. Gomez and DeJohnette are in lockstep. The double bassist shines on an extended solo as Evans fills in seamlessly. DeJohnette’s understated drum work is compelling. Evans returns to handle the upbeat verse. These are concise arrangements. Up next is a jaunty cover of Harold Arlen’s Broadway standard, “A Sleepin’ Bee”. This was originally performed by Diahann Carroll in the 1954 musical, House Of Flowers. Evans distills the pithy song core, but injects it with lively whimsy. He opens it up to some improvisational jamming, but always seems to maintain the Broadway-esque sassiness. Once more, Gomez contributes a nimble-fingered solo.
Side Two offers pair of straight-ahead jazz classics. “Mother Of Earl” (a composition by Evans favorite Earl Zindars) initiates with a bluesy prologue on piano. With a faint brush cymbal frame by DeJohnette, the trio transitions to a medium swing groove. Evans is dazzling with his articulate, rolling licks. He appears to be exploring separate motifs but intermingles them flawlessly. Gomez returns to solo as the cohesive dynamics are potent. Bill returns in a melancholy translation with rich, colorful shading. Miles Davis’ 1958 modal touchstone, “Nardis” is brilliant. Evans had played on the first recording of the song as a sideman for Cannonball Adderley. The unorthodox rhythm patterns and chord progressions mesh with the adroit technique of this pianist. The inherent swing aesthetics underscore the jam. Evans’ inspired play has intensity and occasional Monk-like halting elasticity. DeJohnette unleashes a sustained polyrhythmic solo with cascading flourishes. In a mesmerizing solo piece, Evans captures Gershwin’s genius on “I Loves You Porgy”. His evocative imagery and lyricism glow with harmonic eloquence, as he fuses the gospel nuances of Catfish Row with elegant sophistication. This is a natural pairing of America’s greatest composer and jazz pianist.
On the romantic ballad, “The Touch Of Your Lips”, Evans liberates the song from popular cliche with haunting jazzy flair. Gomez and DeJohnette enter midway to bring this one home. In another unexpected move, Gomez takes the lead on the classic torch opus, “Embraceable You”. Evans’ artistic fidelity never abates. It is apparent on “Someday My Prince Will Come”. The Disney love song has been a staple of jazz performers. In the hands of Bill Evans, a smoking 3/4 time signature (aided by the propulsion of Gomez and DeJohnette) features breathless runs and percolating notation. Evans’ fluidity is palpable as he surrounds the melody with jazzy inflection and exchanges freely with his band mates.. The finale (“Walkin’ Up”) is also explosive. After a descending, emphatic intro, the trio engages with fiecely as Evans weaves his unique tapestry of up tempo momentum into jazz reference.
Analogue Productions has done a superb job in re-mastering Bill Evans – At The Montreux Jazz Festival to audiophile vinyl. The utilization of 45 rpm speed is a revelation. The atmospheric “quiet” is at studio-level clarity. (When the audience applauds at the end of a song, it is almost startling). The detailed, precise tonality of the instruments is incredible, especially with a good pair of stereo headphones. Evans’ piano is percussive and crisp. All of the double bass sounds are crystalline, and small touches like brush on cymbal are showcased in the mix. The vinyl pressing by Quality Record Pressings is impeccable.
This album is a jazz and audiophile historical document. This would be a valuable addition to any collection, especially jazz aficionados and vinyl enthusiasts!
TrackList:
Side One: One For Helen; A Sleepin’ Bee
Side Two: Mother Of Earl; Nardis
Side Three: I Loves You Porgy; The Touch Of Your Lips
Side Four: Embraceable You; Someday My Prince Will Come; Walkin’ Up
—Robbie Gerson
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 16, 2020 | Classical CD Reviews
Refraction = DVORAK: Four Romantic Pieces, Op. 75; ASPLUND: One Eternal Round for 2 Violins; MOZART: Violin Sonata No. 26 in B-flat Major, K. 378; THORNOCK: A Crust of Azure for Violin and Piano – Alexander Woods, violin/ Aubrey Smith Woods, violin/ Rex Woods, piano – MSR Classics MS 1689, 74:30 (6/24/20) [www.msrcd.com] ***:
Recorded 2019-2020, this recital assembles diverse pieces for violin, among which we get two world premieres in works by Christian Asplund (b. 1964) and Neil Thornock (b. 1977), which when juxtaposed against the classic music of Dvorak and Mozart, may reveal much of our own prejudices. Ostensibly, the canvas presented means to highlight “canonic violin works from the past and recent compositions that explore variegated play. . .through myriad lenses.”
The program opens auspiciously enough, with Antonin Dvorak’s 1887 Four Romantic Pieces, first introduced to me courtesy of Uto Ughi. Lushly silken, the first piece, Allegro moderato, in B-flat Major, proffers long, fluent lines that display the rich tone of both Woods, violin and piano, an expressive Cavatina. An explosive Allegro maestoso in D Minor ensues, a Slavic dance in 2/4 of power and finesse. The Romance in B-flat presents an idyll, although its passion does not restrain itself. The last movement, a G Minor Larghetto, repeats a pattern we know from Schumann’s Op. 23 Nachtstuecke, a slowly diminished dynamic of elegiac, sighing phrases.
Quickly on the heel of the appealing Dvorak, we have the Woods’s first contribution to contemporary music, the 2015 One Eternal Round by Asplund. The two violins engage in minimalist, short-note values, which sound like instruments’ tuning up in diverse phrase lengths, harmonic impulses, and metrics for ten minutes. I found myself thinking of the word “Round” not so much for its musical association of quick imitation, but of the direction Dante’s sinners take in their descent into Inferno. Bartok, at least, found as a vehicle for two solo violins the intrinsic energies of his native Magyar tradition. That said, while the composition didn’t connect with me, it was still masterfully executed—the violinists have demonstrated being absolutely top-flight.
We then detour to Mozart’s 1781 Sonata in B-flat Major, a work that marks the composer’s move from Salzburg to Vienna. After the piece by Asplund, the work comes as an Angel of Mercy: gentle, melodic, and infinitely charming, My old musical mentor, Dr. Phil Friedheim, used to posit a possible conversation between Mozart and our ambitious, contemporary composers, having Mozart ask, “Whose work do you think people will seek out in the future, yours or mine?” In Mozart’s first movement, besides role-reversals for the two parts, the development section of the Allegro moderato has a poignant modulation into C Minor. The second movement has our performers’ respecting Mozart’s desire for a real operatic moment, Andantino sostenuto e cantabile. The Rondo enters with the piano, and then Mozart applies his own virtuosity in 16ths, triplets, and dance motifs in dotted rhythm. We might hear a horn call or two before this brilliant tour de force ends, barely remembering to bring back the main tune just before the final chords.
The last piece, A Crust of Azure (2013) by Thornock, has the immediate benefit of his having learned from Bartok’s Duos for Two Violins, the first section Tremulous Whirl’s shimmering in Roma impulses. The middle movement sound like ersatz Ravel, the music’s offering the eponymous Refraction of Sky. The influence of Olivier Messaien enters into Lavender Shroud, an attempt at lyrical expression, alternately hazy and chorale laden. An ambitious three-movement work, A Crust of Azure is the result of a desire to provide a vehicle for Alex Woods. And the desire to extend the violin tradition is commendable. But the one ingredient for music that endures remains melody, and without it, the art form may have energy but little heart. The capacity to create melody seems to have passed to Broadway and Hollywood and away from Carnegie Hall. But perhaps I am incurably Old School.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 12, 2020 | Jazz CD Reviews, SACD & Other Hi-Res Reviews
Getz Gilberto – Stan Getz & Joao Gilberto – Verve Records V/8535 (1963)/Acoustic Sounds Series/Universal Music Group B0031690-01 (2020) 180-gram stereo vinyl, 33:46 *****:
(Stan Getz – tenor saxophone; Joao Gilberto – guitar, vocals; Antonio Carlos Jobim – piano; Sebastiao Neto – double bass; Milton Banana – drums, Pandeiro; Astrud Gilberto – vocals)
Stan Getz will forever be regarded as one of the most notable tenor saxophonists in jazz history. Influenced by Lester Young, Getz’s radiant tonality (prominently displayed on Johnny Smith’s 1952 album, Moonlight In Vermont) and muscular grace had an impact on the bebop and cool jazz scene. He played with fellow legends like Horace Silver, Oscar Peterson, Roy Haynes, Dizzy Gillespie, Ray Brown and Max Roach to name just a few. But Getz became part of musical history in 1962. With guitarist Charlie Byrd, he recorded Jazz Samba. This helped to integrate Brazilian music into American jazz and eventually mainstream popular music. The single “Desafinado” won the Grammy for Best Jazz Performance Of 1963. Subsequent releases like Big Band Bossa Nova and Jazz Samba Encore! garnered acclaim. More importantly, this set the stage for the cultural touchstone Getz/Gilberto in 1963. Teaming up with Joao Gilberto and his wife Astrud, the album became the first jazz project selected as Grammy’s Best Album Of The Year. Additionally, “The Girl From Ipanema” was awarded Record Of The Year. The unprecedented crossover success of Getz/Gilberto was historic and led to further collaborations with the Gilbertos. Getz eventually returned to the cool jazz venue and in a slight reprise of pop intermingling played on Huey Lewis’ “Small World (Part 2)”.
Acoustic Sounds/Universal Music Group has released a vibrant 180-gram stereo vinyl of Getz/Gilberto. Engineered by George Marino (Sterling Sound) under the supervision of Acoustic Sounds founder Chad Kassem, this is a vibrant analog update of a jazz essential. Eight tracks of swaying bliss are faithfully executed by Getz (tenor saxophone), Joao Gilberto (guitar, vocals), Antonio Carlos Jobim (piano), Sebastiao Neto (double bass), Milton Banana (drums, percussion) and Astrud Gilberto (vocals). Side A begins with “The Girl from Ipanema”. The low-key syncopated guitar chords surrounding Gilberto’s whimsical vocal phrasing is infectious. Written by Jobim (who wrote or co-wrote seven songs), his understated piano enhances the relaxed atmosphere. On the second verse, Astrud Gilberto’s injects her sultry alto with subtle modulations that grabs the listener. Getz comes in with a fluid, vibrato-breathing fluidity that is hypnotic. He injects some emotional shading, but never strays from the core melodic structure. He and Ms. Gilberto exchange delicately before the track-closing fade. With a slight uptick in tempo, “Doralice” features Joao’s breezy vocals. Getz demonstrates an adroit understanding of group play and respect for musical vision. His mellifluous sax runs wash over the rhythm section. “P’ra Muchacar Meu Coração” exudes a lilting, romantic feel. Getz’s exquisite solo is graceful and the deeper vibrato technique is palpable. “Desafinado” may be the second most recognizable composition (Jobim) of bossa nova. It is organically jazzy with a dizzying array of minor/major/diminished 7ths and 9ths chords. Gilberto’s handles the pitch-challenging half-note slides with deftness. Somehow, Getz’s tenor runs get even better and create a glowing resonance.
Side B is equally accessible. “Corcovado” (another Jobim standard) brings Astrud Gilberto back. She handles the first verse in English as the ensemble creates a dreamy melancholy frame. Jobim’s wispy chords and notation are effective. When Getz climbs aboard (first on the chorus and then trades with Joao on the second verse), the song basks in the glow of his tenor acuity. Even with ethereal contexts, there is always a scaled-back, steady rhythm. Picking up the pace, “So Danco Samba” is as advertised. Getz’ command over the session is evident as he lays down several cool jazz licks including one deft lower-register note. Again, he always distills the melodic essence. On “O Grande Amor”, Getz shines with his intuitive grasp of this haunting song. Gilberto’s quirky voice and guitar expands the textured ambiance. The finale, “Vivo Sonhando” combines crisp guitar, tinkling piano and masterful saxophone (including trilling). In just under 34 minutes, a jazz masterpiece is created.
This is an auspicious recording for Acoustic Sounds Series. The overall mix of this re-mastered 180-gram vinyl is excellent. The stereo separation is precise, with double bass/percussion on one channel and guitar/piano on the other. Getz’ distinctive tenor is centered, as are the vocals. In particular, the winsome, reticent voice of Astrud Gilberto gets a significant boost. The packaging is top-notch with hi-gloss gatefold, reinforced plastic sleeve and the eye-popping cover painting by abstract expressionist Olga Albizu. The pressing is superior with no hisses or pops.
TrackList:
Side A:
The Girl From Ipanema
Doralice
P’ra Muchacar Meu Coracao
Desafinado
Side B:
Corcovado
So Danco Samba
O Grande Amor
Vivo Sonhando
—Robbie Gerson
Please visit Acoustic Sounds Website for more information:
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 11, 2020 | Jazz CD Reviews
Maria Schneider Orchestra – Data Lords – ArtistShare #ASO176- 2 CD – 53:00 / 43:07 – *****
Maria Schneider is a pre-eminent jazz composer known for lush, gorgeous compositions, blending jazz, classical, folk, and Americana themes. She has been honored with multiple Grammy Awards and is always at the top of Downbeat Magazine’s Critics List, winning this year as Best Composer, Arranger, and Big Band leader. In addition, she has been a fierce advocate for musicians fighting for compensation from streaming platforms such as YouTube, as well as copyright abuse. She has filed suit against YouTube, and testified in front of Congress. Her CDs are released by ArtistShare, which is fan-funded.
Her latest effort, Data Lords, a 2 CD set, in a sumptuous gate fold package, was supposed to be issued earlier this Spring, backed by a national tour with her full 18 piece orchestra. However, the tour and CDs, were sidelined by the COVID-19 epidemic. We are fortunate that the double CD set has been released, and the agonizing wait is over.
Maria’s vision of the often times vicious digital world vs. the neglected “natural” world (art, poetry, unblemished landscapes, and especially open-eared silence) is brought to full fruition here, with Disc 1 titled “The Digital World,” and Disc 2 named, “Our Natural World.” Though our digital connection can provide needed communication throughout the world, its rush to commercialism through mining customer’s spending habits, and allowing manipulation of our daily life through addicting platforms, has corrupted its intent to improve our lives, and equalize our world’s inequities. The extremes between the digital world, and a more tranquil (you might say “healthy”) world has never been greater. Daily we look down at our digital devices, while ignoring the simple beauty of the “natural” world around us.
Disc 1 opens with “A World Lost.” Guitarist, Ben Monder, sets a mood that is disquieting and escalates.
Rich Perry, on tenor sax, enters and his choruses echo a plea for a simpler, more coherent time where nature is valued over the race for the next bragging tweet, or the newest fad to appear for its two day life span. Perry blends an impassioned blues over drummer Johnathan Blake’s drums, and the brass section’s fanfare. A crescendo is reached in the last minute before its energy seems to be spent, like a wounded animal’s last moments. It’s a dark space…
“Don’t Be Evil” was Google’s motto briefly at the turn of the century, before critics’ reaction caused it to be toned down as a marketing tool. Maria’s composition of the same name is a stick a finger in the eye of this behemoth for its phony attempt at righteousness, while allowing rampant commercialism without ethics, and lack of accountability. The musical arrangement is both jaunty and mocking, a blend of some New Orleans jazz, quickly merging into full orchestral motifs. Then Ben Monder has some rock star moments (a la Hendrix?), bending notes, while the drums blaze. It’s foreboding darkness is a new journey for Maria to express anger and moral outrage. Ryan Keberle’s trombone is put to full use to spit out lines of fire towards the hypocrisy of this media juggernaut. Frank Kimbrough’s gentle piano solo then helps turn us back, seeming to say, “there is a better path forward, follow me..” The horns then re-enter to go forwards towards a brilliant light.
“CQ, CQ, Is Anyone There?” takes a trip back towards a much older effort of international communication with Morse Code and Ham radios. It was a much gentler time, with efforts to share and explore, and NOT to dominate. Electronic effects are used to replicate Morse Code messages (Is Anyone There..?). Donny McCaslin’s tenor sax, and Greg Gisbert’s electrified trumpet lead the voyage, that much later turned towards AI (Artificial Intelligence), with more sinister, less humanistic ethics. Schneider takes us down a dark hole to view its cacophonous mind bending implications.
“Spitfire” finds Scott Robinson, a master of saxophones, exploring the mystery of outer space, and our “mining” of the universe by sending up satellites into the skies to enable transmission of “data,” some healthy (families connecting via Skype) vs. nefarious usage (spying). Robinson blows both hot and cold, tender and bellowing, to explore this dichotomy.
Maria Schneider
“Data Lords” (will AI turn against its inventors?) immediately finds the horns stepping up with a layered cloak, rising and falling. Mike Rodriguez (electrified trumpet) and Dave Pietro (alto sax) solo, and Blake pushes the tempo. The brass section soars with ensemble blowing. Around mid-tune, Pietro helps bring an almost Middle Eastern feel, and the brass answers his urgency. They merge into an impassioned plea. Then spent, they struggle to “return to earth” and re-enter the sanity that Disc 2 (The Natural World) provides.
Disc 2 opens with “Sanzenin,” inspired by the Temple gardens just outside of Kyoto, Japan. It features Gary Versace, on accordion, an instrument vital to many of Schneider’s compositions. Here it is playful, a breath of fresh air. The horns gently back Versace. “Stone Song” makes use of “space” to let listeners savor and appreciate the soloists’ craft – Steve Wilson (soprano sax), Versace (accordion), and the entire rhythm section (Kimbrough, Anderson, and Blake). Percussion flows a “rolling” stone’s path. It’s a sweet, whimsical tune, taking on the joy of a child.
On “Look Up,” Maria’s intent, noted in her excellent liner notes, was to stimulate a sense of exploration of the skies, looking up, instead of down at our electrical “umbilical cords.” Marshall Gilkes, on trombone, leads the horns as they take us up high. Such joy here…
“Braided Together” is a tribute to Schneider’s favorite poet, Ted Kooser. His celebration of “simple objects” shows an imagination that AI can never replicate. Dave Pietro, on alto sax, has a sublime solo.
“Bluebird” is one of Maria’s favorite flyers. She remembers a male bird in her field establishing its territory by showing a pesky swallow that it should share the property (may be a good tune to argue for a detente between our natural world and its digital connections?). Steve Wilson has a spunky alto sax solo, and Versace follows with a solo showing grace and beauty.
Disc 2 ends with an exquisite “The Sun Waited for Me.” It is an instrumental version of Maria’s “Winter Morning Walks,” which was originally written for voice soprano star, Dawn Upshaw. Featuring Donny McCaslin and Marshall Gilkes, it plays to Schneider’s brilliant strength, utilizing chorale like arrangements to lift and soar spirits, lightening our load (Damn, we need it now…)
Gilkes’ trombone melody melts away tension, then McCaslin enters with a bluesy tenor solo to bring a little “healthy grease” to spice up what the sun will bring to the new day.
This is a very special release, well worth the wait. It will surely garner awards. Both weighty, inspiring discussion, and deeply moving, Data Lords, demands repeated listening sessions to take in its magnitude and riches.
Please visit Maria Schneider’s Website for more information:
Maria Schneider Orchestra: Data Lords
Maria Schneider – composer, conductor
Steve Wilson – alto and soprano sax, clarinet, flute, alto flute;
Dave Pietro – alto sax, clarinet, flute, alto flute, piccolo
Rich Perry – tenor sax
Donny McCaslin – tenor sax, flute
Scott Robinson – Bb,bass and contra-bass clarinet, baritone sax, mason
Tony Kadleck – trumpet, flugelhorn
Greg Gisbert – trumpet, flugelhorn
Nadje Noordhuis – trumpet, flugelhorn
Mike Rodriguez – trumpet, flugelhorn
Keith O’Quinn – trombone
Ryan Keberle – trombone
Marshall Gilkes – trombone
George Flynn – bass trombone
Gary Versace – accordion
Ben Monder – guitar
Frank Kimbrough – piano
Jay Anderson – bass
Johnathan Blake – drums, percussion
Tracklist:
Disc 1-The Digital World:
A World Lost
Don’t Be Evil
CQ,CQ, Is Anyone There
Sputnik
Data Lords
Disc 2 – Our Natural World:
Sanzenin
Stone Song
Look Up
Braided Together
Bluebird
The Sun Waited For Me
—Jeff Krow
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 10, 2020 | Classical CD Reviews
BEETHOVEN: Piano Sonata No. 16 in G Major, Op. 31, No. 1; Piano Sonata No. 17 in D Minor, Op. 31, No. 2 “Tempest”; Piano Sonata No. 18 in E-flat Major, Op. 31, No. 3; 6 Variations in F Major, Op. 34; “Eroica” Variations in E-flat Major, Op. 35 – Andreas Staier, fortepiano – Harmonia Mundi HMM 902327 28 (2 CDs) TT: 1:45:08 (3/13/20) [Distr. by PIAS] *****
While I usually favor the modern keyboard for Beethoven performances, this album by Andreas Staier (rec. 2017-2018) has taken me quite by joyous surprise. A freshness and vitality, as well as pristine clarity, now suffuses these works from 1802, a critical year in Beethoven’s development, artistically and personally. Having been alerted to his oncoming deafness, Beethoven composed his Heiligenstadt Testament,announcing his stoic acceptance of a stern fate. He no less announced to his piano teacher Krumpholz that a “new path” would demonstrate an evolution in his artistic powers, especially since Beethoven felt dissatisfied with his artistic oeuvre thus far.
One of the more potent traits of Beethoven’s “new path” lies in his sense of humor, of which the G Major Sonata abounds and the pianoforte with Staier highlights deliciously. The very opening of Allegro vivacesets the hands a 16thnote apart, The obstinate momentum once set refuses to relent, and we sense that Beethoven mocks inferior virtuosos. The music then sets on a series of scales and arpeggios on various degrees of the scale, as though Beethoven were demanding an etude. The opposition of dynamics, loud and soft no less come into play in the bold modulations to B Major and Minor. The tendency to have the “ending” cadences extend well beyond their customary length would parody the Classical style itself. The first movement has been an opera buffa extravaganza, with characters’ virtually tripping over themselves.
More fustian and ostentatious decoration invades the Adagio grazioso,a C Major parody of the Italian operatic-diva style, with hyperbolic trills and self-congratulatory ornaments that Mozart cherishes in his K. 522, Musical Joke. The music suddenly breaks off from its musings into a more agitated state that, via a series of thespian process of Staier’s dexterity and our musical patience. Staier has a cadenza before the last repeat of the aria, which – like a bad penny or bad actor – will not go away. Some discords near the coda make the music’s departure especially welcome. The Classical style takes more beating in the Rondo: Allegretto, with its audacious jarrings of the musical line. At moments, having exploited a variation principle, Beethoven imparts a fresh melosupon the theme, almost worthy of Schubert. But listen to those grouchy bass harmonies, so clear in Staier’s transparent instrument. Having slowed the progression down to a mere dialogue of individual notes, Beethoven then, teasingly, steps on the after-burners via a manic trill, hurries via a madcap coda to a jolting finale.
The process of experimentation continues into the D Minor Sonata, Op. 31, No. 2, the so-called “Tempest.” Beethoven had already exploited the most simple kind of arpeggio in his “Moonlight” Sonata. Here, in theLargo movement, the broken chord announces the three aspects of the sonata-form: exposition, development, and recapitulation. The tune as such ascends a third in dotted notes and then synthesizing a moif, evoking great power in what we must admit remains a static idea. There appears no “thematic” development as such, just modulation and an instrumental recitative marked con espressione et semplice.Staier’s instrument, through its very absence of aural density, makes the drama powerfully visceral. We feel the moves from D minor and A minor, and the soft ending that “turneth away wrath.”
TheAdagiono less evolves from a dark part of the soul, a song-in-progress, groping to a descent of a third at which the Allegretto, a moto perpetuo, begins. This rich yet austere moment of obsession most likely bears “fateful” implications, with a rhythmic cell akin to the later Fifth Symphony. Despite the light action of Staier’s instrument, the effect remains symphonic.
TheOp. 31, No. 3first came to me by way of Clara Haskil. Beginning on an inversion of the tonic E-flat, the music moves forcefully to a codetta that no less bears a “fate” motif. The secondary tune, in F Major and then B-flat, rather glows in the tempo Staier sets. The constant, jabbing impulses assume more a sinister than a playful character. In his realization of the recapitulation, Staier increases both the momentum and the intensity of the drama. By the end of them movement’s motto and Beethoven’s stoic answer have become a unified idea.
In the unusual tempo of 2/4, the Scherzo gives us eight bars in t he tonic A-flat. Impetuously, the music moves to F minor, But Beethoven wants F Major for his second subject, when most musicians would opt for the dominant, E-flat. In the recapitulation section, Beethoven goes farther afield into G-flat. But the coda, somewhat over-extended, certifies the composer’s saving humor. The Menuettoand Trio proceed in standard ternary form, in E-flat Major. Staier slows down the Trio to emphasize the gruff dialogue of individual phrases and then concedes their brief capacity for sweetness. The coda indulges in some harmonic deception, inviting a plagal cadence that leaves us unresolved. The Presto con fuocoturns in another tour de force for Staier, who gallops on light feet. He virtually whistles his way through the tune, albeit its stomping character. Harmonic games and ploys abound, including Beethoven’s use of Neapolitan chords and subtle imitation and polyphony. The coda itself extends the tension of a dominant seventh chord and comes down in crashing resolve.
Ludwig van Beethoven,
by Hornemann
The spirit of invention permeates both sets of Beethoven’s variations: the Op. 34 Six Variations on an Original Themethoroughly discards the maintenance of the theme and instead institutes a series of character sketches, a clear model for Schumann. Beethoven moves in a circle of descending thirds, from F Major to C Minor. Each variant moves in a new tempo and a new key. The last of the variants has a cadenza; and, though intricately ornamental in elastic runs and trills, the theme has become rather a dignified folk motif whose very simplicity belies the dazzling inventions preceding it. Staier has made the quarter-hour move blithely, mesmerizing us with the charm of Beethoven’s fertile imagination.
Both a set of contredances and the Op. 43 Creatures of Prometheusballet had already introduced the theme of the Op. 35 Eroica Variations. The theme, first appearing in its bass outline and slowly adding new voices, proceeds in two periods, eight measures each. As in Op. 34, Beethoven will find unexpected treasures in this innocent tune that others might have ignored. A huge E-flat chord announces a period of 128 measures, plenty of room for investigations and permutations. Besides the mix of different note values, Beethoven interject a B-flat in the second half of the period, that had seemed so ordinary in its I-IV-V-I harmonic placement. Despite the constant key and constraints of eight measures, Beethoven succeeds in pulverizing the melodic line in a manner that Webern himself could savor. Some of the markings for the Temainvite comparisons with the much-admired J.S. Bach, like Variation Seven’s Canone all’ottavaand the Finale Alla Fuga. The No. 14, marked Minoreclearly resonates with somber Bach. Both the Largo: Coda espessivo and the daunting Fuga: Allegro con brioenjoy a delicious self-indulgence, from both Beethoven and Staier. They never want either the embellishments or the digressions to end, and maybe that’s how it ought to be: ergo, the Eroica Symphony.
—Gary Lemco
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 9, 2020 | Jazz CD Reviews
Eddie Henderson – Shuffle and Deal – Smoke Sessions Records #SSR-2005 – 59:04 – ****1/2
(Eddie Henderson – trumpet; Donald Harrison – alto sax; Kenny Barron – piano; Gerald Cannon – bass; Mike Clark – drums)
As trumpeter, Eddie Henderson, approaches his 80thbirthday, his playing remains strong and vibrant. His career has spanned five decades, both as a leader and first call sideman. It’s an extra special treat when Eddie is joined by an all-star band befitting his status as a true trumpet stalwart. Such is the case with his new Smoke Sessions CD, Shuffle and Deal. Eddie’s quintet is simply all aces.
His quintet includes altoist, Donald Harrison, who Eddie shares the front line with on the super hard bop group, The Cookers. Pianist, Kenny Barron needs no introduction to anyone who has followed jazz in most any fashion during their lifetime. Bassist, Gerald Cannon, is the”baby” of the group at “only” 62 years old. He came up with the Harper Brothers, and for many years with trumpeter, Roy Hargrove. Drummer, Mike Clark, is known for his funk bona fides, for time spent with Herbie Hancock and the Headhunters, but he fits in fine here, especially with both his brushwork and cymbals accompaniment.
The CD gets off immediately with a winning groove with the title track. You would think that you had gone back to the golden Blue Note days of the 1960s, as its themes drip with hard bop grease. Eddie and Donald blend so well together, and Barron provides blues choruses that set a feel good mood. Kenny’s “Flight Path” follows, and its an assertive uptick. Henderson throws out rapid fire notes, with a firing range intensity. Harrison gets some edgy time in, bringing to mind Jackie McLean. Mike Clark pushes the cats along.
“Over the Rainbow” is a perfect vehicle (the first of several ballads) for a lyrical trumpeter like Eddie. He caresses the melody of this most well known standard, adding slurs to enhance the emotion that this song elicits. “By Any Means” was written by Eddie’s daughter, Cava Menzies. It’s a short and sweet halting blues. Kenny’s “Cook’s Bay” sets a tropical mood with its lilting melody, a great ensemble blend, and accents provided by Barron.
“Boom” from Eddie’s wife (we have a real family affair here..), Natsuko, is much like the title track with another solid groove. Kenny’s choruses are so joyful, and the horns blend perfectly. Billie Holiday’s classic, “God Bless the Child” has a Sunday morning gospel feel, and Harrison’s alto melts like warm butter over maple syrup infused pancakes. Donald’s “Burnin” certainly does, as it’s a uptempo fully amped energy workout, with Clark’s snapping cymbals, and the “H” brothers romping.
The CD is closed with Charlie Chaplin’s “Smile,” done as a duo with just Henderson and Barron exploring the familiar theme, both reflective and comforting.
All in all, this is a superb winning effort, showing that jazz masters like these are ever so dependable in bringing jazz, that both moves and brings contentment, that is needed so much in these turbulent times.
Tracklist:
Shuffle and Deal
Flight Path
Over the Rainbow
By Any Means
Cook’s Bay
It Might as Well Be Spring
Boom
God Bless the Child
Burnin’
Smile
—Jeff Krow
by Audiophile Audition | Aug 2, 2020 | Classical CD Reviews
BEETHOVEN: Violin Sonata No. 4 in a Minor, Op. 23; Violin Sonata No. 5 in F Major “Spring”; Violin Sonata No. 8 in G Major, Op. 30, No. 3; 6 German Dances, WoO 42; Rondo in G Major, WoO 41 – James Ehnes, violin/ Andrew Armstrong, piano – Onyx 4208, 71:01 (2/10/20) [Distrib. by PIAS] ****:
We often forget that Beethoven studied the violin with Wenzel Krumpholz, who had served with the Vienna Court Orchestra, and Beethoven served as a violist in a court ensemble. In 1794, Beethoven noted having met thrice weekly with Ignaz Schuppanzigh, the musician who championed the violin works, particularly through the medium of his string quartet. By 1801, the time of the publication – by the firm of Tarquinio Mollo – of the pair of sonatas in A Minor and F Major, Beethoven had a through knowledge of the instrument, its capabilities and demands. Because of issues involved in binding the scores of the diptych sonatas in one volume, they appeared separately, both dedicated to a wealthy industrialist and patron, Count Moritz von Fries.
Recorded 13-15 March 2019, these sessions reveal the fluency and flair Ehnes and Armstrong possess, especially in the A Minor Sonata, which constantly challenges their sense of dramatic timing and passionate repartee. Rare in Beethoven are minor-key violin sonatas – only the C Minor, Op. 30, No. 2 shares the mode – and the A Minor appears late, in the Op. 132 String Quartet. The opening Presto energetically urges an unyielding 6/8 that that relents with a graceful tune in F Major. An octave leap introduces new material, whose last measures contain an outburst of some vehemence. A third tune returns to the home key. To keep these disparate emotions fluid and in harmony defines the task well met.
The second movement, Andante scherzoso piu Allegretto in A Major, poses another kind of anomaly: it neither conforms to a slow movement nor a real scherzo, but a hybrid in three themes. In sonata-form, the music moves to a clear fugato in a light vein, but soon the development includes some syncopated sforzando markings. The last movement, Allegro molto, has our duo in a tempo and urgency similar to that of the first movement, the theme introduced by Armstrong and often reprised, while various episodes – one in F Major – offer contrast and high-flown drama.
The companion piece, the so-called Spring Sonata, proffers a relaxed, lyrical work whose immediacy of appeal has made it a universal medium for violinists. Beauty and transparency of texture combine, although the force of Armstrong’s pungent triplets and rising scales may feel aggressive to some tastes. The music bounces between two notes, A and G-sharp, for a series of motivic episodes. Still, radiant and muscular, the performance has a distinct charisma, less charming but more emotionally pliant than has been its wont. The Adagio molto espressivo second movement achieves a placid melodiousness close to the spirit of Schubert. Armstrong introduces the theme, and Ehnes’ lulling violin repeats and proceeds to ornament the lyric. The ensuing Scherzo: Allegro molto marks Beethoven’s first application of a fourth movement in a violin sonata. A clever piece of syncopation, its brief moment has the violin’s imitating the keyboard one beat away. The Trio section employs frenetic scalar passagework. The Rondo: Allegro ma non troppo possesses a galant poise, offering vigor in the triplets in the counter theme. Ehnes has a bit of virtuosity in the addition of pizzicato double stops and syncopated triplets over Armstrong’s martial application of the tune. A series of variants proceeds to inflect the martial air with an element of canny grace. Near the coda a new melody appears, delivered with refined eloquence.
Ludwig van Beethoven,
by Hornemann
The 1802 Sonata in G Major first came to my attention through the splendid collaboration between Nathan Milstein and Artur Balsam. The robust Allegro assai opening features a barrage of 16th notes, a Mannheim rocket figure of note, and quirky dynamic shadings. The exposition closes with trills; in fact, the indulgence in lively ornamentation dubbed the work the “Champagne Sonata.” Ehnes and Armstrong make full use of strident and briskly jabbing attacks that ensure a mesmeric hustle to the performance.
Beethoven marks his central movement Tempo di Menuetto, a dance form that he embraced long and late, even incorporating it into his Eighth Symphony. An extended dialogue in E-flat Major, the music bears a graceful nobility close to the music of Gluck, especially in the grazioso marking. What first appears as violin accompaniment develops a stature of its own. At the coda, the melodic material quite dissipates into the aether. The last movement, Allegro Vivace, presents a tour de force, a moto perpetuo romp for Ehnes and Armstrong to strut their individual virtuosity. The music projects a rustic wit, rife with canon passages and bagpipe effects, a treat for the mind as well as the ear. Suddenly, the music comes to a halt, only to resume in a mock-march in a false key of E-flat Major to make the coda in G even more piquant.
In the middle of this triptych of sonatas Ehnes and Armstrong interject two youthful violin works, c. 1792-1796, by Beethoven, of which the German Dances quite steal the show! Conceived as vehicles for gifted amateurs, the Six Dances fly off the page in easy sequence, thoroughly charming. The little Rondo for Eleonore von Breuning proves evanescent, with a little transition into G Minor that tells us something of the young composer’s burgeoning imagination.
—Gary Lemco
