Power as well as delicacy from Douglas in Volume 7 of his Schubert series

Pianist Barry Douglas’ seventh volume of Schubert’s Solo Piano Works came out in November, and this continues to be a highly noteworthy survey. He’s been taking his time – the first volume was released in 2014. This does allow us (and presumably Douglas) to focus more on the current volume’s works in isolation, rather than trying to assess the recordings en masse. Previous volumes have shown Douglas’ approach to be weightier than some, emphasising the forward-looking Romanticism in Schubert’s works, rather than lighter, Classical elements. But that’s a generalisation of course – Douglas can be delicate too, as in the gentle opening to the Sonata in E flat major, D568, and in that opening movement’s subsiding coda. But in between, there is bounce and pace, yet the throbbing chords in the development are never too weighty, everything kept in proportion. Similarly, the slow movement builds from its simple, plaintive opening, with weight and passion growing, yet never overly dramatic. Douglas gives a stop-start kick to the Minuet, with jaunty dotted rhythms in the Trio. That sense of dance is carried forward into the finale, where Schubert’s flow of ideas is at its most inventive, and Douglas certainly conveys that sense of effortless outpouring of material. In the Sonata in G major, D894, Douglas’ full-on approach comes more to the fore, with heft and dramatically crashing chords in the mammoth opening movement. Throughout this movement, there is a constant contrast between those fiery chords and a kind of lilting dance, and Douglas emphasises the extremes of this contrast. This element of contrast continues into the second movement, with a gently lyrical slow waltz followed by a weightier, dramatic second section, with more crashes from the extremes of the keyboard. There’s more drama in the Minuet, with forward drive from Douglas in the grace notes, yet the folksy Trio is given a much lighter touch. The chattering repeated notes of the finale demonstrate Douglas’ deft articulation, and his virtuosity keeps things dancing along with fluid, rippling runs and feisty pacing. Douglas ends the disc, as in other volumes thus far, with two transcriptions by Liszt of Schubert songs. Gretchen am Spinnrade has beautifully relentless spinning rhythms against the increasingly intense melodic line of the song, which Douglas brings out with striking lyricism, the intertwined elements of Liszt’s transcription adding to the song’s claustrophobic drama. In Wohin?, from Die schone Mullerin, the rippling ‘accompaniment’ is less frenzied, and the song can soar above more easily, even as Liszt’s virtuosic demands increase. Douglas’ command here is highly impressive, bringing to a close another strong volume in this collection. 

Schubert, F. 2024. Works for Solo Piano, Volume 7. Barry Douglas. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20289.

Check out my reviews of previous Volumes: Volume 1, Volume 2, Volume 3, Volume 5 & Volume 6. 

Strong performances of Shostakovich Symphonies 12 & 15 from John Storgårds & the BBC Philharmonic

John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic return to their Shostakovich with a double - the 12th and 15th Symphonies. Although not dissimilar in length at around 40 and 45 minutes respectively, making this very generous for a single disc release, they couldn’t be more different in character. The Symphony No. 12, Op. 112, ‘The Year 1917’ is, it’s fair to say, one of Shostakovich’s least popular, for various reasons. It certainly suffered from being seen on paper as overtly and simplistically celebratory of the Soviet regime, with a programme for its four movements including Revolutionary Petrograd, Razliv (Lenin’s country retreat), Aurora (the battleship that launched the salvo attack on the Winter Palace), and ending with ‘The Dawn of Humanity’, a celebration of the new world that the Revolution supposedly brought in. But was it about towing the party line, as he and his work was going through some kind of rehabilitation by the Communist regime, and he also finally agreed to join the party? Or, as ever with Shostakovich, is there a more subversive reading, with its quote from nationalist Sibelius’ Lemminkäinen in Tuonela in the midst of Razliv (Razliv is in Finland), and its meandering questioning both in this movement, but also in the midst of the supposedly defiant final movement? Storgårds takes a relatively straightforward approach here, neither over-emphasising the bombastic, triumphant elements, nor digging too deeply into the darker moments. As a result, this is a performance that leaves us to decide on its merit. The BBC Philharmonic’s playing is tight and precise, with some particularly deft work from the woodwind in the opening movement, especially the bassoons. Rattling drums at the first movement’s climax, and gunfire percussion in the Scherzo add bite, and the brass statement in the finale avoids being overblown, yet has clear strength. A fine performance of a symphony that is ultimately harder to admire than others. Turning to Symphony No. 15, Op. 141, from around ten years later, and his final symphony, we are in such different territory. There is greater invention here, with use of twelve tone motifs as well as constant quotes and references, not least Wagner, Glinka, and even direct use of the them from Rossini’s William Tell Overture. Given the fact that Shostakovich’s health was pretty poor by this stage, having had one heart attack, and soon to suffer a second shortly after completing this work, it is surprisingly upbeat, particularly the ‘toyshop’ opening movement, with its playful William Tell quotes, extensive use of percussion and the high wire circus act solo violin part (played here with caustic precision by BBC Philharmonic leader, Yuri Torchinsky). Storgårds handles this with a deft touch, particularly the squabbling polymetric woodwind passages towards the end of the movement. In the slow movement however there is real agony, with the cello solo plaintive and fragmentary, and then the mournful trombone solo to follow (sadly both soloists uncredited here). But following the mocking scherzo, the finale, despite a mournful brass opening with ominous timpani, soon skips along gently, with those Wagner and Glinka allusions, before the Passacaglia bassline is introduced by the cellos and double basses. Around this the scrabbling intensifies, swirling up to a climax, from which Shostakovich then remarkably descends into a gentle dance and a quiet end from celesta and percussion. As in the 12th, Storgårds steers us through without ever over-stating detail, but here the performance comes alive through the sheer invention and contrast of material that Shostakovich has on offer. It is this clarity of rendition of these two symphonies side by side that highlight the complexity of deciphering the ‘true’ voice of the composer.

Shostakovich, D. Shostakovich - Symphony No. 12 ‘The Year 1917’ - Symphony No. 15. BBC Philharmonic, John Storgårds. Hybrid Super Audio Compact Disc. Chandos CHSA 5334.

CD Reviews - March 2023

Jonathan Dove (b.1959) has composed many operas, as well as orchestral, chamber and film music, but I am personally most familiar with his choral works, ever since singing in performances of his oratorio, There Was a Child, with Brighton Festival Chorus and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Simon Halsey, back in 2011’s Brighton Festival. A few of the BFC tenors were then invited to join the CBSO and the CBSO Chorus for a performance of the work in June of that year, at Symphony Hall in Birmingham. That concert was recorded, and it was great to have the opportunity to really get inside this striking work for soprano & tenor soloists, adult & children’s choruses and orchestra. I remember then being particularly impressed with Dove’s effortless choral writing, presenting singers with rhythmic and harmonic challenges, but always within very ‘singable’ music – understanding choral singing is still surprisingly rare among composers. And so it was a great pleasure to explore a new disc of Dove’s settings of texts by the Greek poet Sappho (c.630-c.570 BC), commissioned by the Cambridge based choir, the Fairhaven Singers, conducted by Ralph Woodward. Sappho Sings consists of six settings of fragments of verse, and are scored for the choir and orchestra, and the Fairhaven Singers are joined here by the London Mozart Players. There is great contrast here, with pastoral flutes and perpetual motion underpinning long vocal lines and falling cascades in the opening ‘From Heaven to here’, to driving string energy, vocal jabs and repetitive rhythms reminiscent of John Adams in ‘You burn me’. Dramatic timpani and brass, and racing strings create a stormy background for ‘Love shook my heart’. Then the upper voices are given richer textures from the strings and horns to underpin their tender rendition ‘Of Love’, with its sensual climax left hanging. In contrast, the lower voices have boisterous rhythmic energy in the

racier ‘Night’. The set then concludes with more long sustained vocal lines, and building, layered choral textures, in ‘Stars around the radiant moon’. There is some lovely word painting here, with falling vocal clusters on ‘stars’, a build to radiant high chords on ‘She’ and ‘silver’, and shimmering high strings left in the air at the very end. These are very effective pieces, with ample variety of textures and vocal styles in a relatively short set (around 19 minutes). The Fairhaven Singers give strong performances here, managing well the challenges of the sustained lines and tricky clustered harmonies, and there were only a couple of points at which the orchestral textures were in danger of overwhelming them in the balance. They sustain the long lines well, and give energy and drive to the more rhythmic passages. These pieces certainly deserve to be picked up by other choirs, adding to Dove’s growing catalogue of strong choral repertoire.

Dove, J. 2022. Sappho Sings. Fairhaven Singers, London Mozart Players, Ralph Woodward. Compact Disc. Convivium Records CR076.

Dove, J. 2012. There was a Child. Joan Rodgers, Toby Spence, CBSO Chorus, CBSO Youth Chorus, CBSO Children's Chorus, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, Simon Halsey. Compact Disc. Signum Classics SIGCD285.

 

American composer George Crumb (1929-2022) passed away last year, and shortly before his death, recordings from a concert of his works given in Holland in 1978 had just been rediscovered. Ensemble Dreamtiger (Kathryn Lukas (flute), Alexander Balanescu (violin), Rohan de Saram (cello), Douglas Young (piano) and James Wood (percussion)) were formed in 1973 and were dedicated to performance of new and old music from around the world, although American music featured prominently, including the music of George Crumb, and in that concert in 1978, they performed three of his works. The ensemble gave their last concert in 1989, but they have offered up these remastered recordings in tribute to Crumb. First of all is a remarkable piece, Dream Sequence (Images II), for violin, cello, piano, percussion and off-stage glass harmonica. There are four groupings here – four tuned wine glasses, percussion, piano and strings. The groups play independently of each other, so every performance will be different – a recording can therefore only be one option for performance. The ringing from the glasses goes on pretty much throughout the seventeen minutes, creating a slightly disturbing tinnitus-like effect after a while, with glassy string shimmers and insect-like slides, squeeks and birdlike pecking. Shaking bells and bowed crotales add further effects, and the cumulative effect, once you get used to the constant ringing, is definitely dream-like, with thoughts flitting in and out of consciousness. The sudden crashing piano interruption towards the end is certainly a wake-up call, before the piece ends on a single glassy note and then disappears. The three movement Sonata for Solo Cello that follows provides a welcome contrast, and is the earliest work here, from 1955. Cellist Rohan de Saram delivers the opening movements guitar-like pizzicato followed by its dramatic exposition with passionate expression, and the central movement’s set of variations on a gently swinging siciliana combines improvisatory expression with racing pizzicato and singing harmonics. After a slow introduction, the finale races off in a moto-perpetuo gallop, with only occasional halts in its insistent rhythm. The disc then ends with Vox Balaenae (‘Voice of the Whale’), an eight section work for flute, cello and piano, progressing from the beginning of time, through successive geological eras, to the very end of time. The flute opens with fluttering and singing into the instrument, evoking Andean pipe music, before the piano crashes in and then delivers Jaws-like scrapings on the strings. There is extensive use of harmonics from the cello, as well as some falling, whistling firework effects. In the later sections, the piano is used to imitate the gamelan, and high crotales introduce the final section. Like Dream Sequence, this is a haunting piece that captivates once you settle into its world, and the expressive cello and flute duet and slightly more secure harmonies that follow in the final section give some sense of resolution. This is a fascinating window on Crumb’s music, and this disc is an important record of Ensemble Dreamtiger’s relationship with the composer and performances of his work. 

Crumb, G. 2022. Dream Sequence, Cello Sonata, Vox Balaenae. Ensemble Dreamtiger, Rohan de Saram. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR130.

Jean-Efflam Bavouzet and the Manchester Camerata, conducted by Gábor Takács-Nagy, have reached Volume 7 of their project to record all of Mozart’s Piano Concertos. And their project is special for other reasons. Firstly, their ‘Mozart, made in Manchester’ project centres on the acoustically acclaimed Stoller Hall at Chetham’s School of Music, and they have also involved string students from the school in the project. The recordings also pair the concertos with some of Mozart’s opera overtures, so on this latest disc, two late concertos are joined by the Overture to Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro). As with previous volumes, the matching of Bavouzet’s energetic precision and fresh articulation with Takács-Nagy and the Camerata’s nimble playing makes for recordings that positively fizz. The woodwind of the Camerata stand out particularly in the chamber, serenade-like passages, such as in the slow movement of the Piano Concerto No. 24, K491. There is an alertness in the players’ responses, so that the relationship with the pianist feels so much more conversational. In the opening movement of No. 24, Bavouzet’s playing has bite in the articulation, with the timpani, the perky horns and the fresh woodwind solo passages responding in kind. Yet there is real grace in Bavouzet’s slow movement here, beautifully paired with the chamber, pure-toned woodwind serenade. And then all concerned have a great play with the seemingly four-square, almost martial finale, always giving shape and nuance to Mozart’s simple theme, and the strings in particular get to play with the pianist here. The strings are also particularly sprightly in the opening of the Piano Concerto No. 25, K503. Bavouzet makes the rapid passagework flow beautifully, and the play on the Marsellaise in Broberg’s cadenza is a joy. Again, his grace is gloriously matched with the woodwind in the slow movement, which has a very laid back, relaxed feel, before the slightly spiky strings set off the finale with driving energy, setting things up for the racing piano entry, and here Bavouzet takes full advantage of Mozart’s playing with the sense of the downbeat. These are lively and illuminating performances, with a freshness and real sense of joy in Mozart’s glorious invention. The disc begins with a positively fizzing Overture to Le nozze di Figaro, with great dynamic contrasts from the quiet opening to the explosion that follows, and the precise articulation throughout from the players, without ever sounding laboured, is highly impressive.  

Mozart, W. A. 2023. Mozart: Piano Concertos, Volume 7. Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, Manchester Camerata, Gábor Takács-Nagy. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20192.

 

CD Reviews - January 2023

The first volume of pianist Orion Weiss’ series focussed on piano works leading up to the First World War, and with the second volume, Arc II we are into times of war and grief, with works by Ravel, Brahms and Shostakovich. Ravel’s (1875-1937) Le Tombeau de Couperin was composed between 1914 and 1917, and each movement of the suite is dedicated to friends who died in the war. The idea of the ‘tombeau’ is a 17th century term for a memorial piece, and Ravel is also paying homage to Couperin in its imitation of a baroque suite. The opening Prélude has a watery flow, yet Weiss’s articulation is always crystal clear, and this is a feature of his playing throughout, never allowing the impressionistic soundscapes to obscure the detail. The angular, meandering Fugue becomes more insistent as it progresses, and the Forlane has a swaying, almost jazzy energy. The quirky energy of the Rigaudon’s opening is contrasted well with its darker central section, and the Menuet moves from a gentle feeling of longing to a huge climax, and then a delicate ending. The rapid repeated notes of the Toccata never feel hammered, and Weiss has incredible lightness here, despite the waves of building turbulence. Brahms’ (1833-1897) Variations on a Theme by R. Schumann, Op. 9 take us back to 1854, and again a memorial to a friend, although he was still alive at this point, but following his attempted suicide, he had entered the sanatorium where he would subsequently die. The piece is in fact dedicated to Robert’s wife Clara, and as well as the theme (from Robert’s Bunte Blätter, Op. 99), he quotes from other compositions by both Robert and Clara, and it is a deep expression of grief for the loss of the relationships he had developed with the couple. Across the 16 variations, there is a wide range of styles and emotions, but there is an ever present longing and lyricism, to which Weiss is constantly alert. Yet he also brings out Brahms’ jerky rhythms, Mendelssohnian fairy lightness and weightier complex textures. The final variation’s tolling bass line with hints of the melodic motifs on top has a particular disintegrating poignance which Weiss captures perfectly. Shostakovich’s (1906-1975) Piano Sonata No. 2, Op. 61 moves us forward to 1943, and it is dedicated to his friend and teacher, Leonid Nikolayev, who died in the mass evacuation from Leningrad. Its opening movement starts deceptively easygoing, with a simple melodic line emerging from dancing rapids, but it quickly develops into a kind of nightmarish world, with an eerily distant march and then a steady build in ferocity. Weiss brings out the sense of unease in the moments of seeming calm, as well giving full power to the violent climaxes. The strange, jazzy half waltz of the middle movement is full of questioning sadness and an ominous throb on the first two beats of the bar, and Weiss leaves the final pianissimo line hanging in the air. The finale, with its long angular theme is pure Shostakovich, with its Bachian invention and increasing complexity, with repeated notes and spiky dotted rhythms. After such exhausting tension, Weiss finishes with two of Brahms’ Chorale Preludes for organ, in Busoni’s piano arrangements. ‘Herzlich tut mich verlangen’ has a warm, even-toned sadness in its longing, and ‘O Welt, ich muß dich lassen’ sums up the overwhelming sense of grief here, with its moments of more assertive certainty swept away by faltering sadness and a pianissimo conclusion of resignation. This is a powerfully emotive programme, performed with such sensitivity and passion, and I look forward to the final volume that promises times of joy.

Various. 2022. Arc II. Orion Weiss. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR128.

 

The Mariani Klavierquartett return with the second release in their cycle pairing Brahms’ Piano Quartets with those of Friedrich Gernsheim (1839-1916). Gernsheim’s music suffered from a ban in Nazi Germany, and never really recovered, and it still deserves greater exposure than it receives, so this cycle is to be welcomed. In the first pairing, Gernsheim’s quartet stood alongside his friend’s admirably. Here, perhaps Gernsheim suffers a little next to Brahms’ mammoth A major Piano Quartet, Op. 26, weighing in at nearly 50 minutes. The opening movement is full of passion and is of epic proportions, yet the Marianis ensure there is a lightness of touch where needed, and Gerhard Vielhaber on piano never overly dominates the texture, which is also testament to the excellently balanced recording here. The piano is freed a little in the romance of the slow movement, with comments from the strings pulsing around it. Again, the Marianis achieve admirable lightness in the Scherzo, despite Brahms’ weighty approach, and they give the Finale energetic drive, with its stomping second beat rhythms, yet pull back expertly for the lighter moments, and the slowing train is beautifully judged before the final race to the end. Gernsheim’s Piano Quartet, Op. 47 is much lighter in mood, and the Marianis bring out the hints of ballroom swing in the opening movement. There is plenty of invention throughout, and galloping energy in the second movement is contrasted with warm lyricism. The slow movement is warm and lilting. Here Gernsheim ruminates on his melodic material to the point of slightly rambling, but the ending is sublimely touching nevertheless. The finale’s jaunty theme is treated to lots of fugal treatment and running accompaniments in its variations, with the piano in particular getting to show off with racing, cascading scale passages, and hefty chords are combined with more wild scales for the exuberant finish. Another illuminating release, and I look forward to the final volume. 

Various. 2022. Brahms & Gernsheim Piano Quartets. Mariani Klavierquartett. Compact Disc. Audax Records ADX11202.

In the sixth volume of his survey, pianist Barry Douglas tackles the second set of Impromptus, D935 and the Piano Sonata in A minor, D845 by Schubert (1797-1828). The Sonata was the last of three in the same key, and the most substantial of these. Douglas takes a weighty approach here, giving the opening movement the heft of a Chopin Polonaise, emphasising the drama. His tempi throughout tend towards the slow side, and this holds up some of the second movement’s variations, yet there is a spring in his step for the third movement scherzo, and the finale has suitable wildness in places. For the Impromptus, the first has smoothly flowing hand crossing and bell-like tone at the top, but the second is taken at a very slow tempo indeed, which means that the central bubbling triplets lose their urgency, particularly for the plunge into the minor key for its second half, and the return of the opening is in danger of grinding to a halt. The Rosamunde-esque dance of the third has poise and delicacy, but again could benefit from a little more flowing tempo, although the tempo does pick up as the variations’ complexity increases, and by the end there is a delightful flow in the rapid motion of Schubert’s decorative writing. The fourth has incredibly virtuosic running scales, and Douglas takes this at a suitably furious lick, making me wish there had been more of this fire elsewhere. After the exuberance of this comes Liszt’s gloriously rich transcription of Schubert’s Ave Maria to finish, and Douglas gives this great warmth and expression, as well as effortless virtuosity. Overall, a mixed contribution to his otherwise exemplary Schubert survey so far. 

Schubert, F. 2022. Schubert: Works for Solo Piano, Volume 6. Barry Douglas. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20253.

CD Reviews - November 2022

Pianist Clare Hammond’s new disc (realised 4 November) of Études by Hélène de Montgeroult (1764-1836) is a complete revelation. Eight years younger than Mozart, Montgeroult, from a noble background, led a dramatic life involving a secret diplomatic mission, kidnap and imprisonment. Despite this, she was made professor of piano at Paris Conservatoire de Musique, and published nine sonatas, three fantasies, and her ‘Cours complet’ containing 114 études and over 900 exercises, as well as various other pieces. The style is so ahead of her time, in terms of what we might expect, that it is hard not to think that her work was not heard by the likes of Beethoven, Schubert, Mendelssohn, Brahms and Chopin. It is often the case that we fall into the trap of listening to unknown music composed by women and constantly liken it to that of male composers, as if to say they must have been the prime influence. Here it is so clearly the other way around, as many of the characteristics of her compositions, in terms of adventurous harmonies, complexity of texture, tempo changes and singing melodies, are foretastes of what we hear in the Romantic composers that followed her. The études were composed from around 1788 to 1812, by which time Schumann and Chopin were just 2 and Mendelssohn 3 years old. Yet if you didn’t know otherwise, the singing melodies over perpetual motion accompaniment of Études nos. 26 and 41, or the dancing energy or percussive textures of nos. 35 & 65, or the virtuosic trilling and insistent rhythmic energy of nos. 100 & 103, could be mistaken for Mendelssohn, Schubert or Chopin respectively. There are Beethovenian bagatalles, Field-like nocturnes, poignancy foreshadowing late Schubert, and even Brahmsian impromptus. Yet there is a clear individuality too in her expressive use of melody and her dense, rapid-moving textures. Did all of these composers know her work? There are possible connections to Mendelssohn via one of his teachers, and Clara Schumann’s father used the Cours complet in his teaching. But beyond that, we can’t be sure. We can only conclude from the quality and creative invention of her compositions that, had she not been a woman, her work would surely be better known today. Hammond has absorbed her soundworld and performs these gems with nuance, warmth and virtuosic fluidity throughout. Given that there are 29 études from the 114 here, there is surely scope for a follow-up, which would be greatly welcomed.

Montgeroult, H. de. 2022. Études. Clare Hammond. Hybrid Super Audio Compact Disc. BIS Records BIS-2603. 

American pianist Sarah Cahill returns with the second volume of her survey of keyboard music composed by women, The Future is Female. As with the first volume, the choice is eclectic, ranging from the late 17^thcentury to the present day, and the loose theme this time is The Dance. She opens with the delightful Suite No. 1 from Élisabeth Jacquet de la Guerre’s (1665-1729) Pièces de clavecin. If we put to oneside any concerns about this being performed on a modern piano, Cahill’s approach is light and delicate, with rippling ornaments and the five short movements bounce along with a gentle lilt. The middle Sarabande is quiet and contemplative, whilst the final Gigue, whilst not overly extravagant, is pacier, within an overall introspective soundworld. Clara Schumann (1819-1896) is next, and her Variations of a theme of Robert Schumann, Op. 20. Written as a present for her husband’s 43^rd birthday, it was one of her last compositions for the piano. The theme itself is rather mournful, almost funereal – and it was her husband’s last birthday before entering the asylum where he would end his days. However, she creates romantic passion in the variations that follow, increasing the intensity and rhythmic energy and moving the melody around in the texture. Yet she returns several times to the chorale-like plainness of the theme, and the six variation is particularly poignant and questioning. Cahill captures the atmosphere of this deeply personal composition with understated affection. We leap forward to 1957 for Germaine Tailleferre’s (1892-1983) Partita, with its wandering melodic lines and jazzy harmonies, and a playfully balletic dance to end. We move through the latter half of the twentieth century with a mournfully nostalgic Rhapsody from Zenobia Powell Perry (1908-2004) and two evocative movements from Madeleine Dring’s (1923-1977) Colour Suite, full of cabaret-style swing and dance rhythms. Elena Kats-Chernin’s (b.1957) Peggy’s Rag is delightfully nostalgic, and Betsy Jolas’ (b.1926) Tango Si deconstructs elements of the dance, with stop-start hints of tango rhythms. The St Petersburg Waltz by Meredith Monk (b.1942) swirls around repeated chords with Eastern European inflections and distant cries from the top of the keyboard. Mexican composer Gabriela Ortiz’s (b.1964) Preludio y Estudio No. 3 has a mysterious, free prelude with high outbursts contrasting with a drone-like bass, and the virtuosic Estudio is full of insistent driving rhythms, splashing chords and metallic use of the very top of the instrument. The disc ends with a dramatically expressive piece, ‘She Dances Naked Under Palm Trees’, by Theresa Wong (b.1976), with haunting use of the pedal to create ringing notes, thundering textures, glissandi and a deeply unsettling 13-beat metre. As with the first disc, with such a fascinating and well-chosen selection of diverse works, it is easy to forget the pianist here, and once again Cahill demonstrates an impressive command of such a wide variety of styles, so as well as being a great testament to the women composers here, high praise is deserved for these performances too.

Various. 2022. The Future is Female, Vol. 2, The Dance. Sarah Cahill. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR132.

Ruth Gipps (1921-1999) was an English composer, oboist, pianist and conductor, studying the oboe at the Royal College of Music with Léon Goossens, and composition with Gordon Jacob and Vaughan Williams. Her music eschewed serialism or atonalism and as such, perhaps fell out of fashion somewhat – and of course she sadly suffered at the hands of a misogynistic and male-dominated world of composition in the early to mid-twentieth century. Thankfully, her music is experiencing something of a revival, and Chandos’ second volume of her orchestral music further demonstrates the inventiveness of her orchestration and her understanding of orchestral colour. Her youthful Oboe Concerto, Op. 20, expertly performed here by Juliana Koch, along with the BBC Philharmonic conducted by Rumon Gamba, is full of lively writing for the oboe, along with lyricism in the slow movement, folksy dancing melodies in its finale. But its strengths also lie in the delicacy of the scoring, with just muted strings in the central Andante, and mysterious string textures in the opening movement. There are two short orchestral works here too, firstly an Overture to a never completed opera, Chanticleer, Op. 28, with atmospheric wind writing and surging strings, as well as rasping brass evoking the cockerel of the title. There is also a dark elegy on war, Death on the Pale Horse, Op. 25 (written in 1943), drawing inspiration from Blake’s painting of the same name. Here, gently pulsing timpani build to the climactic moments, and the opening horn solo, repeated at various points, adds to the sense of doom. The rest of the disc is given over to Gipps’ Symphony No. 3, Op. 57. Written in 1965, the style was surely running against the fashions of the time, which might explain its relative obscurity, but the wealth of expression and orchestral colour on offer here is immediately attractive. The shifting tonalities of the opening movement, with rich string writing, builds to exhilharating, surging climaxes, and the Theme and Variations second movement is warm and lush, with highly imaginative use of percussion. Again, unusual orchestral colour is on display in the Scherzo, with an ostinato (repeated figure) for harp and glockenspiel, against skittish string writing. The finale is jaunty, with some striking moments for the brass – she certainly knows how to make the most of all parts of orchestral textures, and Gamba and the BBC Philharmonic exploit this to the full. I missed Volume 1, and will certainly now be seeking it out.

Gipps, R. 2022. Ruth Gipps Orchestral Works, Vol. 2. Juliana Koch, BBC Philharmonic, Rumon Gamba. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20161.

 

 

 

CD Reviews - October 2022

There have been a crop of recordings coming out of musicians’ exploits during lockdown, and violinist Sara Trickey is a strong addition to the field (released 21 October). Trickey posted weekly videos of solo violin music via YouTube, and as well as bringing her performances to new audiences, she enjoyed the communication from listeners too. As the world returns to some sort of normality of performance, that intimacy of connection is something many performers are now missing. Trickey has recorded a range of repertoire here from those weekly videos, the majority being contemporary works, with several world première recordings and a number of compositions specifically written for her. She begins however with Albéniz’s (1860-1909) popular Asturias from his Suite Española No. 1, Op. 47, in a strong arrangement by Jane Gillie. Written for piano, but also well known in the guitar version, it works remarkably well on the violin, and the instrument has the additional advantage when it comes to sustaining the melodic lines. Trickey communicates the dramatic rhythmic energy, but also adds this element of sustain to the melodies. Telemann’s (1681-1767) Fantasie No. 1 receives a pleasingly light interpretation, with introspection in the slow sections, and an energetic bounce in the faster movements. Her Prokofiev (1891-1953) Violin Sonata, Op. 115 is full of playfulness, dancing through the outer movements, with a light-footed approach to the variations in the middle movement. Norwegian composer Bjarne Brustad (1895-1978) was new to me, and his wistful Lento from his Fanitulsuite No. 1 is beautifully played here, with an ethereal breathy tone in its repeated patterns, often echoed by glassy harmonics. Sally Beamish’s (b.1956) The Wise Maid is folksy and playful, with a surprise towards the end as the harmonies suddenly shift and slide into its quirky conclusion. James Francis Brown’s (b.1969) Soliloquy, written for Trickey, is evocative and improvisatory, again with that introspective feel that speaks of lockdown and isolation. Errollyn Wallen’s (b.1958) Bertha, for which Trickey is joined by Rosie Bergonzi on the handpan is a curious mix of racing, scratchy energy that almost can’t be contained by the gentle insistence of the handpan, followed by a move into more gently rocking rhythms and a delicate song melody from the violin, before the earlier energy returns. David Matthews’ (b.1943) Prelude no. 12 from his set of 15 was written for Trickey’s birthday, with delicate lyricism and birdlike trilling packed into its brief two minutes. Lyell Creswell (1944-2022) sadly passed away just after the recording of his Lento, written for Trickey back in 1994. It has a moving simplicity, played with touching intimacy, and Trickey also played this at Creswell’s funeral earlier this year. The disc ends with a more flamboyant encore piece from Aleksey Igudesman (b.1973). His Applemania is full of energetic, insistent rhythms, with an infectious build which almost bursts out at its conclusion – a fitting celebration perhaps of an end to lockdown. Overall, this is a fascinating survey of varied solo violin repertoire, and speaks of intense commitment and a desire to communicate, as well as clear virtuosic command from Trickey. 

Various. 2022. From an Empty Room. Sara Trickey. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR139.

Pianist Louis Lortie has reached Volume 7 of his Chopin survey, and this volume contains a good spread of the Mazurkas, perhaps the quirkiest genre of Chopin’s (1810-1849) output. Lortie immediately sets out his store with a stylish swagger in the first of the Op. 17 set. The second is suitably wistful, and then he manages well the slightly seasick, circling repetitions of the third, giving the sombre fourth a delicate poignancy, with some relief in its gently throbbing central section. The Op. 68 set is a more mixed bag – the first is a little on the weighty side, but the sombre mood of the second has a lightness contrasting with its thrumming central section. The third has an authoritative command, with light echoes. Lortie saves back the fourth, the most wistfully exploratory, to the end of the disc. For the Op. 30 set, we’re back in sombre territory for Nos. 1 and 2, whilst No. 3 has a ballroom swagger, and the fourth pushes chromaticism the furthest. From Op. 63, No. 1 has a gently meandering central section, surrounded by more ballroom swaying. Lortie gives the nostalgic second a gentle sway too, and the third follows in the same vein. He brings a great delicacy of touch to the delightful Rondo à la Mazur, Op. 5, composed by Chopin aged 16, and full of youthful exuberance, but equally poise and control in its lighter sections. The Boléro, Op. 19, after an opening flourish, settles into a gently lilting melody, before the boléro proper arrives, with its polonaise-like, bouncing accompaniment under its infectious melody. The Rondo, Op. 16 has a highly dramatic introduction, and Lortie lets this develop with virtuosic command, before giving the rondo theme a gently playful bounce, enjoying the gradual build in virtuosic display. The Tarantelle, Op. 43 is a swirling whirlwind, given great energy here by Lortie. The ‘Héroïque’ Polonaise, Op. 53 carries suitable weight, but Lortie avoids overegging the pudding, maintaining a sense of dance amidst the heft. Another great volume in this strong survey.

Chopin, F. 2022. Louis Lortie plays Chopin, Vol. 7. Louis Lortie. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20241.

 

CD Reviews - June 2022

In 2018, conductor John Wilson relaunched the Sinfonia of London, a session orchestra with a long history, particularly in recording film music, and for their second recording with Chandos, they focus on German and Austrian composers, post World War II. Richard Strauss (1864-1949) composed his Metamorphosen, for 23 solo strings in 1945, and it is a heartfelt elegy and a musical realisation in many ways of the horrors that had been experienced in the preceding war. The Sinfonia of London strings here produce a deeply resonant and rich sound, and Chandos deserve credit for achieving precision in the balance, especially when all 23 lines are active. No detail is obscured, and Wilson steers the dynamic swells expertly too. In Strauss there are many climactic moments, and it can lose direction, but here there is a definite trajectory to the warmer major passionate centre, before the opening tragic lamenting material returns following a sudden violent stop. Yet despite the title, there is no metamorphosis into a positive new world – Strauss marks the end ‘In Memoriam’, and the subside into quiet darkness is achingly sad. The short Intermezzo for String Orchestra, Op. 8 by Franz Schreker (1878-1934) is an interesting work, with an opening reminiscent of Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht (written at around the same time), but moments of sweet, pastoral string writing too, and perhaps less overall bite. It is given a richly sensitive reading here, with Wilson’s attention to dynamic contrasts providing shape to its overt romanticism. The second half of the disc is given over to the Symphonische Serenade, op. 39 by Erich Korngold (1897-1957). This was composed just before Korngold returned to Austria from the US, during which time he had carved out a successful career in Hollywood, pretty much establishing the Hollywood movie soundworld of the time, and just after he had a heart attack which required him to step back from recording and conducting. Its opening movement shows an immediate shift from the more obvious ‘Hollywood’ sound, with some strident harmonies and tensely dramatic writing. The second movement Intermezzo has virtuosic pizzicato writing, and here the Sinfonia of London players excel, with tight ensemble and rhythmic energy, making the strange brief interjections of glassy bridge bowing and swoops stand out even more. The Lento religioso is heartfelt, but with a Mahlerian profundity that is arresting, and Wilson and the players give this sumptuous weight without any wallowing, and the repeated notes throb with insistent intensity. The violent outburst which interrupts the solace of the central solo passage is positively shocking here, and Wilson certainly extracts maximum drama from the score. The Finale sets off at a cracking pace, and is full of urgent energy. Wilson and the Sinfonia of London are highly impressive throughout these performances, bringing energy, precision and a glorious string sound to this rich repertoire.

Various. 2022. Metamorphosen - Strauss/Korngold/Schreker. Sinfonia of London, John Wilson. Hybrid Super Audio Compact Disc. Chandos CHSA 5292.

Now for Bach with a difference. The ensemble incantati, which consists of Emma Murphy (recorders), Rachel Stott (viola d’amore) and Asako Morikawa (viola da gamba), have collected together a selection of J. S Bach’s (1685-1750) keyboard works to perform in various combinations of instruments. Pianists will be familiar with the Two-Part Inventions and Sinfonias – basically pieces with two and three separate lines, with an educational intent, to develop playing the independent lines together. The same applies to his Trio Sonatas, or Organ Trios as they were actually written, which involve three parts – essentially two hands and the feet. In playing these with two or three separate instruments, immediately the individual lines come into their own, and no fluidity is lost through trying to negotiate playing them together on a keyboard. But it is in the different timbres of the instruments that add something new here. And that’s where the flexibility of Murphy’s different recorders and voice flutes is a bonus – so sometimes a warm tenor recorder is matched with the sonorous viola da gamba, or a brighter soprano recorder is paired with the slightly more brittle sound of the viola d’amore. They are also careful here in their selection, with the darker, more sombre pieces (eg. the Sinfonia No. 4, or the mournfully sighing No. 9) contrasted with the bright, lighter examples (Inventions Nos. 1 and 2, for example). There are also beautiful renditions of Bach’s chorale tune arrangements, such as the prayerfully lilting Allein Gott in der Höh sei Ehr, and the joyful, dancing Herr Jesu Christ, dich zu uns wend. They end their disc with the Trio Sonata No. 3, with more virtuosic lines for the alto recorder in its first movement, a lightly singing central movement, and a bright (if slightly stately for ‘vivace’) finale. This is then followed by a wonderfully graceful reading of the Aria from the Goldberg Variations, with the viola d’amore this time taking centre stage, and the tenor recorder and viola da gamba providing subtle inner and lower lines. A delightful collection, highly recommended.

Bach, J. S. 2022. J. S. Bach - Two-Part Inventions, Sinfonias, Trio Sonata No. 3, Goldberg Aria. incantanti. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR122.

(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in Scene, June 2022) 

CD Reviews - May 2022

Following on from their two volumes of Felix Mendelssohn’s String Quartets, the Doric String Quartet are now joined by Timothy Ridout (viola) for a disc of his String Quintets. Mendelssohn wrote just two of these, going with the viola added to string quartet combination, favoured by Mozart and Brahms, as opposed to adding a cello, which Boccherini and Schubert did. Mendelssohn’s String Quintet No. 1, composed when he was 17, came hot on the heels of the successful premiere of his glorious Octet. Ever the reviser, it was another five years before he published both. Its opening movement has a leisured warmth, with only brief hints of darker moods in its development, before it gently dances to a quiet ending. The Intermezzo, with its singing melodic idea is sensitive and elegiac. Intensity builds over warm lower strings, with the rhythmic pace of the throbbing repeated figure increasing. It never feels totally settled, despite its calm ending. We’re in ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ territory in the Scherzo, with skittering fairy music led off by the first viola. The players here give this precision and clarity, yet avoid it becoming too dry, and there is some dramatic scraping from the cello, not holding back from a harshly biting timbre. Yet once again, the movement disappears into nothing. Whilst not quite reaching the heights of exuberance of the Octet, the finale is full of joyful energy, set up by its lively triplet upbeat. Alex Redington on first violin shines in the rippling runs, and sings over the rumbling lower instruments. Energy levels ramp up and up, leading to the joyous conclusion. The String Quintet No. 2 came some 18 or so years later, with much of the same sense of energy but perhaps less of the unfettered joyfulness of his youthful works. The opening movement has an athletic first violin part over a tremolo accompaniment. The whirling triplet rhythms mean there is always a sense of movement, and these drive on, becoming more insistent, building to a full-on emphatic conclusion. In the dancing, lilting staccato of the second movement, once again the players here avoid it becoming to picky, maintaining a sense of the melodic material and the dance in an masterclass of control. But it is the intense pathos of the slow movement – essentially a funeral march – that is most striking about this work. From a darkly pianissimo opening, cello scales rise and a slow relentless march emerges. There are drum-like battering effects, and heartfelt laments from the violins. A nostalgic A major melody provides some temporary relief, but it is short-lived, and the agitation of the march increases. Yet Mendelssohn can’t leave us totally in the dark, as the movement suddenly turns at the end to a triumphant D major, before subsiding into a gentle, calm end. The finale, perhaps a little incongruously after the deep intensity of the previous movement, bursts forth with a jolly, energetic theme. This theme provides most of the material here, and its contrapuntal development perhaps loses a little direction at times, but Mendelssohn eventually pulls everything to a suitably emphatic close. Throughout these fascinating and underperformed works, the Doric String Quartet and Ridout are alive to the Mendessohnian flashes of joy and energy, yet they are also alert to the finer detail. They know when to provide warmth, but also when to give edge to their sound too. Highly recommended.

Mendelssohn, F. The String Quintets. Doric String Quartet, Timothy Ridout. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20218.

Arc I is the first of a series of three recordings by American pianist Orion Weiss. This first album features three works from the years 1911-1913. Weiss describes the trajectory of the series as like an inverted rainbow, and this first volume’s ‘steps here head downhill, beginning from hope and proceeding down to despair’. We’ll have to wait for the next disc to see things reach their lowest before renewal and rebirth are promised in the final volume. So here we begin with Enrique Granados’ (1867-1916) Goyescas, Op. 11, a Romantic masterpiece of invention. From the warmly expressive, watery cascades of the opening movement ‘Los reuiebros’ (Flattery), through to the macabre, stuttering dance of the final ‘Epilogo: Serenata del espectro’ (Epilogue: Serenade of the Ghost), this monumental and atmospheric suite is full of Granados’ extravagantly ornamented and improvisatory virtuosity. Weiss is commanding in the frenzied, passionate outbursts in ‘El Amor y la Muerte – Balada’ (Love and death – Ballade), but equally delicate in the nightingale’s song of the fifth movement. There’s a skip in his step in the moments of courting in the opening movement, and he ends the suite with ominous tolling bells before disappearing with a final mercurial wisp. Leoš Janáček’s (1854-1928) In the Mists follows – a shorter suite, and more introspective than the Granados. There are typical Janáček chromatic twists and turns in the melodies, and his motif of death, the falling minor third, features large. Weiss captures particularly well the claustrophobic, suppressed passion of the final movement, which breaks out with melismatic, singing outbursts and increasing intensity, before defeat in its dark sombre conclusion. Weiss ends with Alexander Scriabin’s (1871-1915) Piano Sonata No. 9, Op. 68, ‘Black Mass’. Full of ‘satanic’ tri-tones and chromaticism, begins hopeful but descends into darkness and despair, and Weiss makes the low rumblings and persistent trilling effects feel chillingly ominous. There is a real sense of the second, more hopeful melodic idea insistently writhing as if trying to escape, before being ultimately subsumed into a frightening march. This is an impressive display from Weiss, and sadly speaks to current anxieties and a sense of despair. Arc II promises to take us to the lowest point of grief and loss, but hopefully Arc II will bring us some hope for the future – much needed at present.

Various. 2022. Arc I - Granados, Janáček, Scriabin. Compact Disc. First Hand Records FHR127.

(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in Scene, May 2022) 

 

CD Reviews - December 2021

The wonderful Ferio Saxophone Quartet are back, this time joined by pianist Timothy End, with a new album entitled Evoke. They present us with three premiere arrangements by Iain Farrington for this combination, as well as a quintet by the Spanish composer Pedro Iturralde Ochoa (1929-2020). They begin with Shostakovich’s (1906-1975) Jazz Suite. In fact Iain Farrington has taken movements from two works, two from the Suite No. 1 for Jazz Orchestra, and five from the Suite for Variety Orchestra. The latter work was actually assembled not by Shostakovich himself from various of his film and ballet scores. Farrington includes the most well-known movement from the Variety suite, the Waltz No. 2. Used for the film The First Elechon, it has cropped up in many guises on TV and in adverts. With its relentless waltzing bassline beneath a captivating melody, scored for sax in the original, it is wonderfully captivating, and here it is given a subtly understated rendition with beautifully blended textures from the combined saxes. The opening March is a fun circus romp, followed by the quirkily playful Polka. The Waltz No. 1 swirls in a smooth, cabaret style, with the lower instruments kicking in seductively at one point. The Foxtrot begins with a rising stomp building up the tension before the sultry, bluesy melody takes over. In the Little Polka, the piano maintains a driving rhythmic bounce, with rapid rippling lines passed between the instruments. The Dance No. 1 (from The Gadfly) concludes the set in a virtuosic gallop evoking a busy Italian country market. The Suite is full of atmosphere and fun, and Farrington scores well for the four saxes and piano, bringing out the humour as well as the restraint of Shostakovich’s take on cabaret sultriness. Farrington’s own Animal Parade was originally for either organ or piano, but he recast six of the twelve original movements specifically for the Ferio Saxophone Quartet. Between the brief, brashly energetic Entrance and Exit, we have waddling Penguins, taking advantage of the humorous side of the sax, with slightly ungainly wiggles, and slides as they slip in and out of the water. Then comes a Barrel organ monkey in a circus style romp, followed by the Alley cats, with a bluesy, mysteriously sexy solo line for the alto sax. This is in stark contrast to the darkly lumbering Blue Whale, with the piano and lower instruments gliding ominously below. Once again in his arrangement of Bizet’s Carmen Suite, Farrington makes great use of the saxophone’s lyrical qualities to evoke the operatic characters, with the alto sax taking the lead in the Habanera over pulsing chords from the other instruments, and the baritone sax perfect for the Toreador’s Song. Yet despite the potential homogeneity of the four saxes (albeit with piano), Farrington manages to create contrasting textures, particularly in the Aragonaise, with rippling from piano and saxes in answer to the melody. The Habanera could take more play in the rhythms from the Ferios, but their gently swaying Seguidilla exudes Carmen’s joy in life’s pleasures. The final Gypsy Song is full of energy, and whilst the swirling build to its conclusion could take yet more abandon, the overall effect of this set is highly enjoyable. They finish their disc with Iturralde’s Memorias, which is a real gem. Iturralde was a saxophonist, clarinettist and composer, and this work was composed in his teens in the late 1940s. The piano gets things going in the short introduction, evoking a train speeding up and taking us on to the first destination, Lisboa, with a rising and falling melody full of nostalgia, contrasting with full passion from the full sax sections, answered with equal passion by the piano. In Casablanca, it is again the piano that leads off, and the players let rip here in this movement full of jazz, swing, boogie-woogie and ragtime. Alger restores to a slow nostalgic atmosphere, before the Retour to Spain at the end, with rich full textures created by all five instruments, and a flourish to finish. Once again, the Ferios have excelled in this imaginative and spirited programme, and Timothy End’s deft contribution, as well as Iain Farrington’s expertly idiomatic arrangements deserve equal praise here.

Various. 2021. Evoke. Ferio Saxophone Quartet, Timothy End. Compact Disc. Chandos CHAN 20140.

Once again, violinist Johannes Pramsohler has managed to present us with forgotten repertoire that is informative at the same time as being full of interest and enjoyment. Of course, his expertly virtuosic performance, along with equally impressive support from Gulrim Choï (cello) and Philippe Grisvard (harpsichord), is key to this ability to lift what could be a dry, academic exploration, into one of delight and enjoyment. And here, in the six Sonatas by Pieter Hellendaal (1721-1799), from a manuscript preserved in the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, and therefore known as the ‘Cambridge Sonatas’, we learn of a lesser-known violinist composer who arrived in England from Holland in the late Baroque period, settling in Cambridge in 1762 after time in London and Kings Lynn. He had studied in Italy under the great Tartini, and he brought with him to England much of that Italian technique, style and virtuosity which was in stark contrast to the prevailing chamber music based on the viol family that would have been more familiar to English ears. Having said that, Hellendaal as a composer was no revolutionary, and once establishing a position for himself in the relative musical backwater of Cambridge, he wasn’t pushing forward into the beginnings of the Classical style already taking hold in London. However, his works contain considerable invention, and in these Sonatas, there is significant detail of ornamentation and written-out cadenza passages that indicate his virtuosic technique and compositional abilities. Pramsohler has used some of these indications as a launching point for his own embellishments and ornamentation in the same style, particularly in the slow introductory movements that begin some of the Sonatas. There is also some variety in structure, with several of the Sonatas ending with unexpectedly slow or relaxed movements, with the faster, showier movements in the centre. There are numerous challenging fugues, with the violin taking on two voices, requiring some complex double-stopping. Occasionally these lengthy fugal movements lose a little direction, as Hellendaal gets a little lost in sequential harmonic patterns (eg. the second movement of Sonata No. 2), but they nevertheless demonstrate Hellendaal’s considerable skills both as a composer and violinist. There are some delightfully expressive movements too, such as the Affettuoso third movement of No. 2, with its falling line and echo effects, expressive ornamentation and delicate underpinning from the cello and harpsichord. On the quicker side, the sprightly middle movement of No. 3 is a good example of Hellendaal’s ability to make use of the cello to exchange interest with the violin, and as the virtuosic level increases, there is some wonderful rapid duetting from Pramsohler and Choï here. It therefore comes as a bit of a surprise when this Sonata concludes with a gentle Pastorale, with drone-like double-stopping and sweetly simple repeating melodic figures. Another fugue is the highlight in the middle of No. 4, and the cadenza here is full of delicate virtuosity, with Pramsohler taking the rising bird-like figure right to the limit of the fingerboard. This time, Hellendaal finishes with a rustic, folksy dance, with violin and cello exchanging the melody. Another rustic dance concludes No. 5, with more than a whiff of the hurdy-gurdy, and striking offbeat rhythms. However, once again here, Hellendaal gets a little lost in rising sequential progressions, which takes some of the impact away from the swirling ornamented scales and deftly articulated arpeggios. No. 6, which concludes the disc, has a mournful Andante affettuoso at its heart, and Pramsohler makes the arioso line sing. Some more unusual harmonies surface briefly in the central section, and the movement ends with some buzzing trill ornamentation. Here Hellendaal ends with a lively yet simple Gavotte. A most enjoyable collection, and as ever, performed with winning energy by Pramsohler and friends. 

 

Hellendaal, P. 2020. 'Cambridge Sonatas'. Johannes Pramsohler, Gulrim Choï, Philippe Grisvard. Compact Disc. Audax Records. ADX 13720. 

(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in Scene, December 2021) 

 

CD Reviews - June 2021

The Doric String Quartet are on their fourth volume of the String Quartets of Joseph Haydn (1732-1809), a cycle they began way back in 2014. Here, they play the six Op. 33 Quartets, nicknamed the ‘Russian quartets’, after their dedication to the Grand Duke Paul of Russia. As ever, the Doric’s performances are impeccable, and they are alive to the energy and fun in Haydn’s writing throughout. The Scherzo of No. 1 has real bite, accentuating the contrast with the seemingly light and delicate Andante that follows, and the finale is taken at a breathtaking lick without any loss of accuracy or detail. No. 2’s Scherzo has a real bounce, the first violinist Alex Redington enjoys the somewhat vulgar slides in the rustic Trio, and the Finale’s ‘joke’ (giving this quartet its nickname) ending is delightfully judged. They give No. 3’s strange Scherzo a dark, veiled tone which works incredibly well, and its Adagio is especially sweet by contrast, all swept away by the rustic dancing Rondo. They exploit the lyrical in No. 4’s Largo, and there’s another blisteringly quick Finale here. Redington makes No. 5’s aria-like Largo sing, and they all make great play of Haydn’s two/three confusions in the Scherzo, before the lightly dancing Allegretto finale, topped off with its crazily fast Presto coda. No. 6’s Andante gets a particularly tender reading here, and its finale is gently understated. The Dorics are clearly alive to the variety here, and not afraid to push tempi in the interest of keeping proceedings alive and vibrant, and they add another strong volume here to their survey.

Haydn, F. J. 2020. Haydn String Quartets, Op. 33 (Volume 4). Doric String Quartet. Compact Discs (2). Chandos CHAN 20129.

The Paris based label Audax Records, established by violinist and director Johannes Pramsohler, continues to go from strength to strength, with 25 releases, many award-winning under their belt in just eight years. The latest release moves forward a little from the label’s general focus on the Baroque, with the Mariani Klavierquartett beginning a cycle pairing the Piano Quartets of Brahms (1833-1897) with those of a lesser-known composer, Friedrich Gernsheim (1839-1916). The two composers were friends, and Gernsheim was a particular champion of Brahms’ German Requiem, conducting the work on a number of occasions. Even though Gernshiem’s composing career began before Brahms’, he is often dismissed as being heavily influenced by his friend, and his work and reputation suffered from a subsequent ban in Nazi Germany owing to his Jewish heritage. The Mariani quartet’s recording project began in January 2020, but was of course immediately curtailed by the pandemic, so it is great that they have been able to return and complete this first volume, with a spirited and lively performance of Brahms’ Piano Quartet No. 1, Op, 25. Their opening movement draws the listener in immediately from the piano’s opening melody onwards. In the second movement, the cello propels things with constant quavers, whilst the violin and viola converse with the piano. The Mariani cellist, Peter-Philipp Staemmler keeps things moving without allowing his perpetual motion to get in the way of the other players’ conversations. The third movement is a masterpiece of Brahms’ lyricism and harmonic invention, and it is in secure hands here in this warmly sensitive performance, with some particularly warmly rippling playing from pianist Gerhard Vielhaber, and a vibrantly contrasting central section played with great spirit by all. The finale, ‘Rondo alla Zingarese’, with its typical Brahmsian take on Hungarian rhythms and melodies is taken at a great pace, with incredibly impressive virtuosity on display from all here, but once again, pianist Vielhaber deserves particular mention for his effortless dexterity throughout. Gernsheim’s Piano Quartet in C minor, Op. 20 opens with a gloriously rich and flowing movement, and the Mariani players produce appropriately warm tones throughout. Gernsheim’s melodies flow effortlessly, and the full-on dramatic climaxes are powerfully delivered here, yet the Marianis also bring out the moments of delicate detail too. The second slow movement is a beautiful example of Gernsheim’s heartfelt lyricism, and like the slow movement of the Brahms, the Marianis play with deep assurance and sensitivity. The closing Rondo is lively and again packed with melodic ideas, as well as a dancing rhythmic pace. Here it has playful delicacy and energy, allowing for the contrast between the lighter, smaller scale moments and the high-spirited peaks to shine, building to a glorious finish. This is a highly impressive first volume, with assured Brahms coupled with illuminating Gernsheim, and I look forward to hearing more.

Various. 2021. Brahms & Gernsheim Piano Quartets. Mariani Klavierquartett. Compact Disc. Audax Records ADX 13780.

(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in Scene, June 2021)