Showing posts with label Swedish Chamber Orchestra. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Swedish Chamber Orchestra. Show all posts

Thursday, 8 October 2020

CD Reviews - October 2020

French pianist Jean-Efflam Bavouzet released his set of complete Piano Sonatas by Beethoven (1770-1827) back in 2017, and it still remains the go to edition for me. So it’s great to see him now turn his attention to the five Piano Concertos. Spread across a three-disc set, he throws in a performance of the Quintet for Piano and Winds, for which he is joined by players from the Swedish Chamber Orchestra, who play alongside him in the concertos. Beethoven’s five concertos span well over twenty years of his career, and sketches exist at either end of concertos from as early as 1783 and as late as 1815. Here the five completed concertos are placed in order of their composition, so No. 2 in B flat major comes first, as it was actually composed back in 1787, before No. 1 in C major (1795). No. 2 is clearly Mozartian in many ways, but already here we have Beethoven’s stamp on the genre, with dramatic contrast of emphatic statements followed by delicate responses in the slow movement, and constant playing with the sense of downbeat and upbeat in the joyful Rondo. No. 1 has the same sense of rhythmic confusion in its Rondo too, and here Beethoven makes wonderful use of the clarinet in conversation with the piano in the slow movement. There is sprightly energy from the Swedish Chamber Orchestra throughout, and Bavouzet positively fizzes in the rippling runs, and attacks the finales with a great sense of fun. On the other hand, his delicacy of touch in the slow movements is delightful, and this comes to the fore again in No. 3 in C minor. The Swedish wind players are also prominent here, and their conversational exchanges with Bavouzet are subtle and poised. In the faster movements, Bavouzet’s tempi are always brisk, but never feel rushed, his fast runs always fluid and effortless. No. 4 in G major moves things onto another level, with a much broader sense of architecture, from its prayerful opening, right through to the galloping finale. Again, the slow movement is conversational, this time between just strings and the piano, with Bavouzet and the Swedish players creating a moment of intimacy amidst the grandeur of the outer movements. No. 5 in E flat major (the ‘Emperor’, although the origin of this nickname is unclear – it definitely wasn't specifically linked to Napoleon, as famously the Eroica Symphony was initially) is again on a grand scale, and there is a real sense of opening out here, with more expansive playing from both Bavouzet and the orchestra. The outer movements have great panache, particularly in the joyfully ebullient finale. The central slow movement is understated, and Bavouzet avoids over-sentimentalising proceedings – although I could have tolerated a little more indulgence here. But this is a minor point of taste – overall, this is an impressive collection, and I’ll definitely be returning to this frequently, alongside Bavouzet’s Sonata set. The bonus Quintet is a treat – a young work from Beethoven, giving greater prominence to the clarinet than to the other wind instruments (oboe, bassoon and horn), but packed full of joyful melodic material. The Swedish players here play alongside Bavouzet with great style, creating a pleasing palate-cleanser to round off the three-disc set.

Beethoven, L.v. 2020. Beethoven - the Piano Concertos. Jean Efflam-Bavouzet, Swedish Chamber Orchestra. Hybrid Super Audio Compact Discs (3). Chandos CHSA 5273.



Last year I reviewed a delightful recording from Flaugissimo Duo, who I first came across when they were part of the Brighton Early Music Festival’s BREMF Live! Scheme. Now, one half of the duo, guitarist Johan Löfving has recorded Fandango!, a collection of music for solo guitar from the late 18th and early 19th centuries, when the six-stringed guitar flourished in the salons and concert halls of Paris and Vienna. So the works on offer here vary from the Viennese classicism of Mauro Guiliani’s (1781-1829) Sonata Brillante, with its playful Beethoven- or Hummel-esque pianistic style, and lyrical melodies, to the more explicitly Spanish influenced Fandango Variado by Dionisio Aguado (1784-1849), with its swirling dance rhythms and strumming flourishes. Interestingly, the guitar’s lack of ability to sustain notes creates interesting pregnant pauses in the slow movement of the Giuliani, but Löfving’s gentle vibrato manages to still make the melodies sing here. French composer, Napoléon Coste’s (1805-1883) Soirées d’Auteuil is unashamedly romantic, full of operatic melodies, virtuosic runs and cascading arpeggios, and Löfving has great fun here. A sense of decorum is restored in the brief Étude from the great composer and teacher, Fernando Sor (1778-1839). Löfving’s touch here is delicate and expressive, bringing out the duetting melodic lines with great sensitivity. Giulio Regondi (1822-1872) spent most of his adult life in the UK, and his relatively recently discovered Introduction et Caprice, following its chorale-like opening, is full of dancing virtuosity, another chance for Löfving to demonstrate the fluidity of his playing. To close the disc, he is joined by the Consone Quartet, current BBC New Generation Artists, for a performance of Luigi Boccherini’s (1743-1804) Quintet No. 4. This opens with a warm Pastorale, full of birdlike violin twiddles and musette-droning lower strings. The sound here is somewhat muted, and the rippling guitar part is understated, with only a brief moment of emphasis towards the movement’s conclusion. The strings sound more insistent in the second movement, but again, perhaps with an aim to achieve the right balance with the quieter guitar, the overall sound is subdued, although energy picks up with rustic dancing and a joyful, trilling close to the movement. The final movement, after a dramatic introduction and guitar solo, launches into a spirited and lively Fandango, and here the performance takes flight, with playful, almost laughing figuration from the first violin, and cheeky sliding gestures from all the string players. To add to the joyful sense of occasion, Nanako Aramaki joins in with castanets, and the energy rises to a spirited conclusion with lots of string tremolo and guitar strumming. A fun end to a very enjoyable disc, full of refreshing and sprightly-performed repertoire. 

 

Various. 2020. Fandango! Music for Solo Guitar and String Quartet. Johan Löfving, Consone Quartet, Nanako Aramaki. Compact Disc. Resonus RES10260.


The Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble (pianists Natalie Tsaldarakis and Panayotis Archontides) and composers Hugh Shrapnel (b.1947) and John Lewis (b.1947) were completely unknown to me, so their new disc, Elements of London, combining movements from two collections by the composers, was a total voyage of discovery. Lewis’ pieces (Elements) are all inspired and named after chemical elements, whilst Shrapnel’s (London) are all associated with people, places and even politics of South London – hence the combined title of the disc – and they are mixed together to form an overall programme. Despite their differing inspirations, the pieces fit together remarkably well, with influences of minimalism, jazz and blues cropping up throughout. Lewis makes use of insistent rhythmic repeated chords in Niobium, and minimalist influence is most evident in Mercury and Phosphorus. Yet there are Latin-infused rhythms in Chlorine, and hints of Shostakovich in the gently romping Cerium. Shrapnel’s pieces are more overtly expressive, such as the atmospheric Ladywell Station (surely quoting Misty) with its background train whistles, and the plaintive, lamenting In Memoriam Jane Clouson. Dad’s Army even makes an appearance in Hunt Hunt, a defiant political piece dedicated to the Save the Lewisham Hospital Campaign. The pieces have been sensibly curated here, with energy and drive contrasting with more lyrical and atmospheric movements. Few pieces are longer than five minutes, yet they are surprisingly effective in capturing a mood or energy. Tsaldarakis and Archontides have clearly developed a strong affinity for this music, and a close relationship with the two composers, and their performances are strong throughout, contrasting well the thicker chordal textures with bright melodies (often in bell-like octaves), and enjoying the jazz-infused melodies. A very enjoyable discovery.

Monday, 20 May 2013

CD Reviews - May 2013


First of all, violinist Tasmin Little and pianist Piers Lane with Violin Sonatas by Richard Strauss (1864-1949) and Ottorino Respighi (1879-1936).  Both composers produced just one sonata each, but Respighi produced a set of Six Pieces (Sei pezzi) for violin and piano, of which three are included here.  Strauss’ Sonata is an unashamedly romantic work, composed when he was 23, and had met Pauline de Ahna, who he later married.  Right from the opening the central role of the piano is clear, with a vocal, almost operatic violin part.  Little produces a luscious, warm tone, with full-bodied accompaniment from Lane.  The beautiful central Andante has singing lines, with delicate filigree accompaniment, contrasting with the dark piano opening to the Finale, before both players are unleashed, and let rip with swaggering abandon, reminiscent of Don Juan.  In the Respighi Sonata, the violin is more forward – the piano part is still virtuosic, but more in response to or underpinning the extremes of the violin.  This work is also harmonically more unusual than the Strauss.  The slow movement is introspective, with rhapsodic piano writing, building to a climax of torment before subsiding into calm.  The Finale is a driven passacaglia, with great rhythmic propulsion, its 20 variations a real tour de force for both players.  After a brief respite for slow, chorale-like middle variations comes a singing, violin led variation.  A dark, pesante variation comes before the fast rhythmic drive returns, the piano writing now reminiscent of Rachmaninov.  The Sei pezzi are much smaller in scale, with a real salon feel. Melodia has a sweet tune, with a hint of something darker in its central section.  The Valse caressante has a shimmering piano opening, with a lilting, romantic feel, and Little & Lane really dance here.  The closing Serenata is suitably elegiac and sensitive.

            
Now for three works for viola and piano, from violist Christian Euler, with pianist Paul Rivinius.  They begin their disc with the Sonata by Arthur Bliss (1891-1975).  They launch straight into a swirling, turbulent opening movement, both instruments working hard together, with only brief calm moments of respite, yet surprisingly the movement ends rather suddenly and quietly, ushering in the dark central Andante.  This opens with mysterious viola pizzicato over dark piano chords, before the viola takes off with an almost eastern melody, and the movement then grows in challenge, particularly for the viola, using the uppermost registers of the instrument, before closing with the strange pizzicato textures of the opening.  The Furiant finale is a real stretch for both players, and they carry it off with appropriate élan.  The Sonata from Arnold Bax (1883-1953) has a slightly sinister opening, with glassy piano chords beneath a modal, Celtic viola line.  The slow Finale has thick, heavy piano chords, and feels sombre and quite impressionistic, yet with a surprisingly relaxed conclusion.  Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) composed his Suite originally for viola and small orchestra, but also arranged the work for viola and piano, which is what we have here.  The eight pieces form three thematic groupings – Christmas (Prelude, Carol, Christmas Dance), Folk (Ballad, Moto perpetuo) and Dance (Musette, Polka and Galop).  This is an enjoyable work, although I miss the greater variety of textures the orchestral version offers.  All the works on this disc were dedicated to the celebrated violist Lionel Tertis, who also premiered all three.  Overall, these are fine performances, with only the occasional shrillness of tone in the upper registers of the viola. 


The prolific clarinetist Michael Collins has yet another disc out, this time of Clarinet Concertos, with the Swedish Chamber Orchestra, which he also conducts.  Yet this is not a straightforward concerto set – we have the classic Mozart Concerto, coupled with Copland’s Clarinet Concerto, composed for the great jazz clarinetist Benny Goodman, but we also have a concerto work from Australian composer Elena Kats-Chermin (b.1957), entitled ‘Ornmental Air’, and composed with Collins as soloist in mind.  Collins uses a basset clarinet for the Mozart, and the Kats-Chernin piece was also written for this deeper clarinet with an extended lower range.  Collins’ Mozart is incredibly smooth and silky, and his obvious communication with the orchestra as soloist/conductor gives this modern instruments performance an intimate chamber feel.  The Copland which follows is also remarkably tight given the absence of a separate conductor, and has great life and perkiness.  Collins plays the central cadenza with ease – in fact it is this incredible ease which characterises the disc as a whole, with the blend between soloist and orchestra intuitive throughout.  Kats-Chernin uses the same orchestral forces as the Mozart, and was intended as a companion piece, although beyond this there are few similarities.  The rhythmic, 5/4 drive in the first movement reminded me at times of John Adams, although it slightly runs out of steam towards the end of the movement.  This is followed by a cadenza passage, leading to the second movement, with a bluesy take on Liszt’s Liebestraum No. 3.  The pace picks up again, and the energy returns for the final movement, driving right to the finish.  Overall, these are not showy performances, but respectful and at all times sensitive to the diverse musical styles, quite an achievement in this wide-ranging repertoire.   

           
Pianist Steffen Schleiermacher’s new recording of the Catalan composer Federico Mompou’s (1893-1987) cycle Música Callada is a real find.  The title loosely translates as ‘Silent Music’, and comes from a poem by the sixteenth century Spanish mystic, San Juan de la Cruz.  This collection of 28 short pieces, in four Books, was composed between 1959 and 1967, when the rest of the classical world were engrossed in electronics and serialism.  These delicate miniatures are a world away from that, and seem to come from an earlier time, perhaps closest to Eric Satie, with a touch of Ravel – not surprising since he studied in Paris in 1911 and was close to ‘Les Six’, the group of composers which included Poulenc, Honegger and Milhaud.  These miniatures are almost all slow in tempo, yet Mompou somehow avoids monotony and the set builds to create a beautiful dreamlike atmosphere.  Schleiermacher’s sensitivity and variety of tone maintained my interest throughout.  A great discovery.  


(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in GScene, May 2013).