Showing posts with label Odhecaton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Odhecaton. Show all posts

Monday, 29 December 2014

CD Reviews, December 2014


I have to start this review by saying that the Brahms Clarinet Quintet, Op. 115 is my all-time favourite chamber work.  So settling down to a performance by the excellent Brodsky Quartet together with clarinettist of the moment, Michael Collins, promised much.  But first, they opened with the second String Quartet.  Brahms composed just three String Quartets, and he was forty before he published the first two, Op. 51.  Much has been written about the shadow of Beethoven that stunted Brahms’ confidence, and the string quartet genre it was also the vast body of work from the other string quartet giants, Haydn, Mozart and Schubert, that must have been intimidating for any composer following so soon after.  In fact the Op. 51 pair were received well, if not overly enthusiastically at the time, but the ever self-critical Brahms wasn’t entirely happy with them.  Interestingly, he seemed to favour the expanded resources of quintets and sextets, which perhaps gave him more scope for his often richer, thicker harmonic writing.  However, the second String Quartet in A minor, Op. 51 No. 2 is on the whole, a lighter, more lyrical affair, although darkness lurks in the thoughtful slow movement, and in the weighty yet lively Hungarian dance influenced finale.  The Brodskys give a fine performance here, nothing remarkable, but giving due weight where required, and a lighter touch, for example, in the alternating Allegretto Vivace section of the third movement.  However, there is definitely a feeling of this being a curtain raiser for the main event, the Clarinet Quintet.  This dates from the Indian summer of Brahms’ compositional output, after he had said he would compose no more.  A number of key works stem from this period, including three other chamber works including the clarinet, all inspired by the playing of clarinettist Richard Mühlfield.  The Clarinet Quintet is a masterpiece of nostalgia, sadness and at times, exquisite beauty.  This is a more laid-back performance from Collins and the Brodskys than some – their take emphasises the introspection and reflection, and less so the dramatic outbursts of frustration, even anger that are there in the music.  Their tempi throughout are relaxed, which is a noticeable Brodsky characteristic. So I missed the full extent of this passion, particularly in the turbulent second movement.  However, Collins’ warm, honeyed tone is perfect for the sense late summer turning to autumn, matched by the rich, full-bodied string playing from the quartet. The poignant return of the music from the first movement is played with great sensitivity and pathos. So overall, a fine performance, but not quite hitting all the right buttons for me.


Back in February I reviewed a disc of Franco-Flemish renaissance music sung by the all male Italian ensemble Odhecaton, and their latest disc tackles the strange and wonderful world of Carlo Gesualdo (1566-1613).  He is almost more famous for having murdered his wife (who was also his first cousin) and her lover, than for his unusual and strikingly chromatic music, so it’s always good to see new recordings of his music.  As with their previous disc, the soundworld is different from what we are used to from many English early music ensembles.  On this disc the singers are joined in some pieces by instrumentalists and the viol group Ensemble Mare Nostrum, and the blend of sounds is extraordinary, to the extent that at times, separating the sound of the counter-tenors from the cornett is not always easy.  This mix of textures, as well as the insertion of several short organ pieces, makes for a varied programme.  The works on this disc come from Gesualdo’s first book of Sacrae Cantiones, and there isn’t space here to go into detail about all the pieces here.  Highlights include the weird falling harmonies in Deus, refugium et virtus, and the subtle mix of singers and instruments in Tribulationem et dolorem and Dignare me laudare te. But if you want to discover more about Gesualdo’s music, this is a great place to start.



Violinist Jennifer Pike has carved out a great career already, having been the youngest winner of the BBC Young Musician of the Year back in 2002, aged just twelve.  In her performance here of one of the last great Romantic concertos, the Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 47 by Jean Sibelius (1865-1957), she demonstrates incredible musical maturity, combined with an effortless virtuosity.  There isn’t a flicker of difficulty as she negotiates the challenges of cadenza passages in the first movement, and the fiendish octaves and harmonics of the finale are rock solid.  The only cost of such effortless command of the technical difficulties is that we occasionally lose an edge of danger, important in such a passionate work.  The passion rises in the slow movement however, and she is supported by some beautiful playing from the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra, especially from the wind section.  Sir Andrew Davis and the orchestra then fill out the disc with a selection of orchestral works by Sibelius, some better known than others.  The most substantial is the enjoyable Karelia Suite, rooted in Finnish folk music from the region bordering Russia, and Sibelius’ strong belief in the freedom of Finland from Russian rule.  Davis and the orchestra give a rousing performance, and their Finlandia is also strong, with rich and stirring orchestral tones.  The highlight, however, is their performance of one movement from Sibelius’ Lemminkäinen Suite (a shame we couldn’t have all four), The Swan of Tuonela.  The conversation between solo cor anglais and cello, over muted divided strings, is one of Sibelius’ most inspired creation, and the soloists here (Hege Sellevåg, cor anglais, and Jonathan Aasgaard, cello) make a fine job of it.  The popular Valse triste is accompanied by the less well-known Valse lyrique and Andante festivo, all receiving strong performances. 


(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in GScene, December 2014)


Thursday, 6 February 2014

CD Reviews - February 2014


The Italian, all male Renaissance polyphony group, Odhecaton were new to me, but they have been around since 1998 and have a number of discs behind them, as well as several awards.  Their latest recording, entitled De Passione, consists of music by Franco-Flemish composers Josquin des Prez (c.1450/55–1521), Jacob Obrecht (1457/8-1505), Loyset Compère (c.1440-1518) and Gaspar van Weerbecke (c.1445-after 1516), all published by Ottaviano Petrucci in Venice in 1503.  The 11 singers are directed by Paolo Da Col, and the motets they have chosen for this collection all focus on texts relating to the passion and Holy Week.  The substantial works by Josquin (O Domine Iesu Christe, Miserere mei Deus, and Qui velatus facie fuisti) are familiar to me, and they receive assured and beautifully sustained performances here.  Compère’s equally substantial In nomine Iesu was new to me, however, and is beautifully rich in texture, with Odhecaton exploiting the composer’s use of the lower registers of all the voice parts.  I really enjoyed the sound world of all male voices, and the countertenors consistently avoided the common tendency for a slightly hooty sound on top, blending perfectly with the lower voices.  Obrecht’s subtle Parce Domine opens the disc, and van Weerbecke’s dark, sonorous Tenebrae factae sunt is an added treat.  This is followed on the disc by a startling contrast – which certainly surprised me on first listening, as I hadn’t read the notes beforehand.  Sardinian singer Clara Murtas sings a solo traditional lament, O tristu fatale die.  The style is a sudden change, but somehow finds a fitting place here, the mother of Jesus’ lament almost providing a release after the contained and controlled polyphony.  To follow this and close the disc, Odhecaton return with Josquin’s Miserere mei Deus.  Highly recommended.


Sir Andrew Davis and the BBC Symphony Orchestra continue the series of Orchestral Works by Gustav Holst (1874-1934) they took over following the sad death of Richard Hickox.  The latest volume contains two works, The Mystic Trumpeter, and his First Choral Symphony.  Both works employ a soprano soloist, here the great Susan Gritton, and they are joined in the Choral Symphony by the BBC Symphony Chorus.  The Mystic Trumpeter is the shorter work here, and perhaps because of this, is the more successful in my mind.  The text is by Walt Whitman, and Holst achieves a real sense of structure, guided by the poem, building to suitable peaks, before subsiding into peace and tranquility at its close.  The First Choral Symphony, at over 50 minutes long, however, struggles to maintain coherency for me.  There is great music here, and the first three movements succeed to a great extent in creating a variety of textures and moods from the diverse texts by Keats – the seven beats to a bar Baccahanal, the relaxed calm of the second movement’s Ode, and the delicate orchestral textures at the close of the third movement.  But having explored this variety, one gets the sense that Holst didn’t quite know how to conclude this mammoth work, and the finale dissapoints.  However, the performance here cannot be faulted and Gritton in particular is in fine form.  Credit also to the BBC Symphony Chorus, who produce a well-disciplined and rich sound throughout. 


Another continuing Chandos series with the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, this time with Edward Gardner conducting two works by Karol Szymanowski (1882-1937).  His Stabat Mater from 1925/6, with solo voices in addition to the chorus and orchestra, is a striking and affecting work, with a stunningly beautiful lament from the solo soprano (here impressively sung by Lucy Crowe), and a fiendish fourth movement for just female choral voices, later joined by the female soloists.  Szymanowksi makes great use of these different forces, using choral chanting, a duet between solo alto (Pamela Helen Stephen) and clarinet, and melody in the final sixth movement for the solo soprano that is to die for.  The other piece here is the Choral Ballet, Harnasie, which is rooted in the culture of the Podhale region in the Tatra mountains in Poland.  Whilst there are moments reminiscent of Stravinsky and Janáček here, the overall effect is of a totally individual sound, and without even looking at the texts, images of folk dancing, revelry and wedding scenes are immediately conjured up.  In fact the story is of a bride who is abducted by a robber (Harnás).  I can’t profess to understanding Polish, but the BBC Symphony Chorus sound totally convincing and authentically unison in their diction, which must have been a considerable challenge.  There is real excitement and life in this music, which is fully expressed in this commanding performance from all concerned.


(These reviews first appeared in GScene, February 2014)