Brahms: Klavierstücke (CD Review)

 by Ryan Ross

András Schiff, pianist. ECM New Series 2730/31

Readers of my reviews know that I am not a period instruments fan for repertoire after Mozart. I never have been. I generally don’t think the pursuit serves later music well, being instead a quirky preoccupation of performers seeking something different. However, in this case I must confess to having met my ideological match. No, András Schiff has not entirely converted me to the period instruments cause; in the end I still prefer these Brahms pieces on a modern piano. But this recording did open my eyes to new (or, shall we say, old) possibilities that strike me as fruitful. I heard the music in a way I was resistant to at first, but now can’t comfortably dismiss.

 

Schiff plays on a Blüthner piano, a 19th-century instrument with a mellifluous timbre. It was used by Brahms himself, as well as other major figures. It took a bit to get accustomed to it. When the first piece (Albumblatt, a nice inclusion) started playing from my CD player, I heard its soft, slightly plunking sound and thought, “oh boy, it’s going to be a long two discs!” But commitment spurred me on, and I gradually softened. To be honest, it is good that the discs begin with the eight Op. 76 Klavierstücke, which I do not consider to be among Brahms’s most inspired music. Nonetheless they are fine pieces, and served as an ideal “orientation” period between me and Schiff’s unusual keyboard. By Op. 76’s conclusion, I was unexpectedly intrigued.

 

But my real convincing came with the Opp. 116-119 pieces. To be sure, I still think the combination of the Blüthner piano and Schiff’s gentler interpretive approach underserves the bravura stretches in numbers like Op. 116/1, Op. 118/6, and Op. 119/4, for example...regardless of what Brahms himself may have experienced. I am indeed too used to the thundering modern instrument in the hands of performers such as the late Stephen Kovacevich. This may be the result of my ahistorical conditioning, in which I remain content. That said, it would be a shame to allow such baggage to detract from the really special passages made possible by Schiff and his instrument choice. Because where they really shine is in the gentler moments. The Blüthner’s timbral colors, combined with Schiff’s imagination for phrasing and tone color, are simply breathtaking in pieces like Op. 118/2, 118/5, and Op. 119/1. Especially impressive is this Op. 118/2, a selection recorded so often and yet appearing so fresh here. Also magnificent is Schiff’s Op. 118/5, which sounds more like a musical fairy tale than any other performance of it I’ve heard. The Blüthner’s unusual resonance brings out aspects of the music I never really heard before. In short, there is plenty to disarm my preconceptions.

 

I cannot recommend this recording unreservedly, but its highs are strong enough that my reservations shrink to insignificance. It is not something that only geeks will want in their collections; it makes a compelling claim to being one of perhaps a few Brahms Opp. 116-119 releases that anyone might own. Whether this ends up there will depend upon what you value, but I hope you will not dismiss it because it’s different. I often come down harder than most (and maybe harder than I should) on different things, but let this review be evidence that I am open to being positively transported when the right different thing comes along.

John Adams: Piano, Vocal, and Chamber Works (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Adams: Road Movies – I. Relaxed Groove; II. Meditative; III. 40% Swing; I Still Play – Pocket Variations for Solo Piano; Roll Over Beethoven (arr. of the composer’s Second String Quartet for two pianos by Preben Antonsen); Am I in Your Light? (from Dr. Atomic, arr. Chitose Okashiro for voice and piano, text: Peter Sellars); Consuelo’s Dream (from I Was Looking at the Ceiling and Then. I Saw the Sky, arr. John McGinn for voice and piano, text: June Jordan); Leila’s Song: Alone (Again or At Last) (from I Was Looking at the Ceiling and Then I Saw the Sky, arr. John McGinn for voice and piano, text: June Jordan); Short Ride in a Fast Machine (arr. P. Antonsen for piano four hands). Ralph van Raat, piano; Rosanne Philippens, violin; Laura Bohn, soprano; Maarten van Veen, piano. NAXOS 8.559910

Listening to this release of music from American composer John Adams (b. 1947) caused my mind to drift back to those days back in the 1980s when the musical trend known as Minimalism really began to gain a foothold in classical music circles. I was then avidly combing the bins at record stores, bringing home plenty of LPs and CDs to audition, some of which I would wind up reviewing for The $ensible Sound audio magazine. The three minimalist composers who really made a mark for themselves were Adams, Philip Glass (b. 1937), and Steve Reich (b. 1936). There were others, of course, such as Ingram Marshall (1942-2022), but Adams, Glass, and Reich are the composers who went on to emerge as the Big Three of the American minimalist movement. Of the three, Adams is arguably the most successful in orchestral music; here, though, we are presented with – as the album’s title proclaims – piano, vocal, and chamber works. However, the title is slightly misleading, for what we find here includes not only original Adams scores but also arrangements/transcriptions of some of his compositions, for better or worse. 

 

The album opens strongly with the three-movement Road Movies for violin and piano, which offers an engaging balance between rhythmic drive and melodic commentary, tossed back and forth between the piano and violin. It’s one of those pieces that draws the listener in from first note to last – a sheer delight. The piano piece I Still Play strikes these ears as trying just a bit too hard to sound whimsical; your mileage may vary. Roll Over Beethoven is an arrangement for two pianos of a string quartet; although there are some interesting passages, more melodic development would be welcome. The three songs that follow come as a breath of fresh air, with Laura Bohn’s beautiful voice projecting grace and light. Finally, we have an arrangement for piano four hands of one of Adams’s most well-known orchestral works, Short Ride in a Fast Machine, which surprisingly enough works remarkably well, capturing a good portion of the energy and exhilaration of the original score. For fans of John Adams, this new Naxos release is well worth an audition.

Bantock: Orchestral Works (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross 

Bantock: Hebridean Symphony; English Scenes; Prelude to ‘The Bacchae’ of Euripides. Rumon Gamba, conductor; BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. Chandos CHSA 5380

I’ve always been a bit torn about Granville Bantock. On the one hand, I love his flair for scene painting, and his splendid knack for orchestral color. On the other hand, I get frustrated with his peculiar formal mushiness, and a tendency to over-extend what are usually modest materials. If I’m honest, it’s all made more annoying by an extravagant exoticism that can seem more like a rich kid’s pose than anything else. He’s a neglected composer I feel eager to promote, and end up reluctantly realizing why he’s second-tier.

 

But as I often say, even a second-tier composer might ring the bell occasionally. The Hebridean Symphony is one of Bantock’s few works in that category. Yes, it’s a bit bloated and at times borderline hokey. (That stretch of insistent trumpet fanfares toward the end comes immediately to mind.) But it also contains some real magic, especially earlier on. The first section, built on the Scottish folk song “The Seagull of the Land-under-Waves,” is gorgeous and well proportioned. And the stormy music of the Con moto section is one of the most thrilling passages in all of British classical music. Look, I’m not saying the world needs a full-blown Bantock revival, but a performance of the Hebridean Symphony now and then would definitely help to enrich the concert palette. Particularly in my very own United States.

 

The other works on this recording are pleasant but less ambitious. The Prelude to ‘The Bacchae’ of Euripides reflects the vogue for Greek play music in early-twentieth-century Britain. Coming in at just over six minutes, it’s effective enough music that doesn’t overstay its welcome, even if the listener neither knows nor cares about its eponymous imagery. The English Scenes of 1901 comprise a handful of shorter pieces that, while likewise less memorable than the symphony, also avoid its mild tax on the patience. Bantock was always most inspired when animating a non-musical subject, and each of these scenes carries a simple yet vivid title to that effect.

 

Indefatigable conductor Rumon Gamba is another musician who revels in scene-painting. Unsurprisingly, he and the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra give bright performances of all this music. Their main competition involves the Hebridean Symphony. Perhaps Adrian Leaper’s interpretation with the Czecho-Slovak State Philharmonic Orchestra (Naxos 8.555473, formerly on Marco Polo 8.223274) is harder-edged. Maybe Vernon Handley and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (Hyperion CDA66450) are the most consistent. But Gamba and the BBCSSO distinguish themselves by sheer color and exuberance. In the end you really can’t go wrong with any of these options.

 

Which makes formulating a recommendation awkward. I don’t know how many listeners will want multiple recordings of the Hebridean Symphony in their collections, much less versions of this other repertoire. The best solution (as usual) is probably to sample before you buy. But stream and revisit? Absolutely. Gamba has already made a name for himself with northern European repertoire, and this release is another feather in his cap.