May 31, 2012
Orff: Carmina Burana (CD review)
May 29, 2012
Silfra (CD review)
May 28, 2012
KLIPSCHTAPE (CD review)
May 25, 2012
Saint-Saens: Complete Symphonies (CD review)
May 24, 2012
Grooving Classics: A String & Percussion Fest! (XRCD review)
May 22, 2012
Debussy: La Mer (CD review)
May 21, 2012
Byron Janis: The Chopin Collection (CD review)
May 18, 2012
Mozart and Beethoven: Ballet Music (CD review)
May 17, 2012
Tchaikovsky: Violin Concerto in D (SACD review)
May 16, 2012
Famous Marches (CD review)
May 15, 2012
Hanson: Symphony No. 2 “Romantic” (CD review)
May 11, 2012
Schubert: Symphonies Nos. 1 & 2 (CD review)
May 9, 2012
Kodaly: Hary Janos Suite (HQCD review)
Hungarian conductor Istvan Kertesz (1929-1973) produced a remarkable string of successful recordings in his brief career, mainly during the period between 1962 and his untimely death by drowning a decade later. His performances of Bartok, Brahms, Kodaly, Mozart, Schubert, and in particular the nine Dvorak symphonies, most of which he made with the Vienna Philharmonic and as Principal Conductor of the London Symphony, remain among the best in the catalogue. Here we have an example of his work with the music of fellow Hungarian Zoltan Kodaly, a recording remastered by HDTT (High Definition Tape Transfers).
Kodaly (1882-1967) was still alive when Kertesz recorded the Hary Janos Suite and Dances of Galanta in 1964 for Decca Records, and the composer apparently enjoyed the conductor's performances of both pieces, especially the complete Hary Janos opera and the suite we have here. The folk opera Hary Janos (1926) tells of an old peasant soldier who returns to his village to spin yarns about his heroic exploits and fabulous adventures. Kodaly said he intended it to be a "mixture of realism and naivety, of comic humour and pathos." The public so enjoyed it that within the year Kodaly extracted a six-movement orchestral suite from it, which has become more popular today than the opera itself.
The six movements of the Suite bear the titles "Prelude: The Fairy Tale Begins," "Viennese Musical Clock," "Song," "The Battle and Defeat of Napoleon," "Intermezzo," and "Entrance of the Emperor and His Court." The titles are fairly self-explanatory, and Kertesz handles them with a deft touch, catching all of their whimsy and sweet sentiment. Moreover, the London Symphony Orchestra plays extraordinarily well, marking every turn of phrase with a radiant delight.
Under Kertesz, the "Prelude" begins with a sneeze (no, really) and progresses with vigor. The "Clock" displays an abundance of creative verve. The "Song," a lovely piece featuring key roles for various instruments including a cymbalom, is at first leisurely, wistful, gaining momentum in a dreamlike reverie.
"The Battle" segment was always the most demo-worthy part of the recording, largely because of Kertesz's enthusiasm for the subject matter and because of Decca's spectacular sonics. This one won't disappoint. In the "Intermezzo" that follows, Kertesz offers up a tensely effective dramatic contrast. It is also among the more easily recognizable music in the suite. Finally, Kertesz makes the "Emperor and his Court" as joyous and celebratory as any I've heard. It's a wonderfully infectious production.
The accompanying Dances of Galanta (1933) prove equally rewarding--glittering, incisive, lilting, sinewy, and resplendent by turns. Two final arias from the Hary Janos opera--"Poor am I still" and "Once I had a brood of chicks"--bring the album to a close.
This recording, which Decca made at Kingsway Hall in 1964, has always been something of a demonstration piece, and newly remastered by HDTT on an HQCD, it sounds better than ever. The stage is very wide and the sonics very dynamic. The range is enormous, with excellent air and depth to the acoustic. The midrange is impressively clear, if a tad forward and only on occasion a touch congested; the bass is more than adequate; the treble is well extended when necessary; and the separation of instruments is most lifelike. While the sound appears somewhat close up in the manner of much of Decca's work in the Sixties, it is not so close as to detract from the recording's overall realism.
As usual, the folks at HDTT make the music available in a variety of formats for a variety of pocketbooks, from Redbook CD's, 24/96 DVD's, and HQCD's to 24/96 and 24/192 (on select titles) Flac downloads for playback on high-end computer audio systems. For details, visit http://www.highdeftapetransfers.com/storefront.php.
JJP
May 8, 2012
Bruch: Scottish Fantasy (CD review)
Like so many other composers, writers, and performers, Max Bruch (1838-1920) became mildly annoyed that people remembered him almost exclusively for one thing, in his case the violin concertos, and in particular the First Concerto. He did, after all, write hundreds of other works in a career that spanned over fifty years. But looked at in another light, I suppose it's better that people remember somebody well for one important thing than that they never remember the person at all.
Anyway, this Naxos disc aims to rectify the situation somewhat by presenting another famous piece by Bruch, the Scottish Fantasy from 1880, alongside a lesser-known work, the Serenade from 1900. The Fantasy is, of course, Bruch's compendium of Scottish folk tunes, over thirty minutes' worth, tied loosely together in five movements. Violinist Maxim Fedotov joins Maestro Dmitry Yablonsky and the Russian Philharmonic Orchestra in presenting both pieces.
Things begin rather oddly in the Scottish Fantasy with an introduction marked "Grave," which is exactly how violinist Maxim Fedotov plays it, literally. It's slow and solemn to the nth degree before giving way to the more familiar and frolicsome melodies that follow. However, Fedotov never really seems to let his hair down in this music, taking it all a tad more seriously than what some listeners may have in mind. Admittedly, I've become accustomed to the performances of Itzhak Perlman (EMI) and Jascha Heifetz (RCA), both of which are more joyous and outgoing than Fedotov, whose reading is somewhat more restrained and genteel.
It seems to me that Fedotov's approach to Bruch sounds better suited to the Serenade than to the Scottish Fantasy. The composer apparently first proposed the Serenade as a fourth violin concerto, which obviously never came off. Instead, we get a lyrical (yet long, almost forty minutes) set of generally Romantic themes, none of them easy to remember two minutes after hearing them. The work does not appear to have gone over too well with the public in 1900, incidentally, a public that was already finding music such as Bruch's rather old-fashioned compared to the emerging impressionism, expressionism, and such. Yet in Fedotov's hands the Serenade has a soothing lilt, even in the livelier sections. It may be entirely forgettable material, but it passes a pleasant time while it's playing.
Naxos's sound is in the big, warm category here, not revealing a lot of inner detail but most comforting to the soul after the stress of the day. For the record, so to speak, the Previn (his earlier one) is the best sounding of the three recordings of the Scottish Fantasy I had on hand, and the Heifetz is the thinnest and brightest. Still, nothing is so simple, because the Heifetz is also my favorite interpretation of the three. Oh, well....
JJP
May 7, 2012
Chopin: The Complete Preludes (CD review)
I was not familiar with Venezuelan-American pianist Vanessa Perez until I heard this Telarc recording of Chopin's complete Preludes. From these accounts, she certainly appears to be a pianist from whom we will be hearing much in the future.
Ms. Perez says, "The idea of recording all the Chopin Preludes came to me one night as I was playing them at home this past January. Chopin brings me back to my childhood [in Venezuela]. It connects me to every possible emotion, and to so many memories. It is music I have always loved, and that reminds me how truly blessed I am to be a pianist." Fair enough.
So, what are these Preludes of Polish pianist and composer Frederic Chopin (1810-1849), and why did he call them Preludes? "Preludes" to what? In musical terms, a prelude might be any of several things: It might be a piece that precedes a more important work or movement; it might be the overture to an opera; it might be a wholly independent piece, usually of modest length, used to introduce a fugue or a suite; or it might be any music that opens or introduces a church service. But in Chopin's case, I think his Preludes are simply short, self-contained little piano pieces that kind of resemble improvisations but are, of course, well constructed, if a little rambling. My Harvard Concise Dictionary of Music describes Chopin's Preludes as "pianistic character pieces...each usually based on a short figure or motif."
Well constructed, rambling, lacking or not lacking in formal thematic development, Chopin's twenty-four Preludes, Op. 28, which he completed in 1839, allow for a good deal of interpretation, which is why we have gotten so many different performances of them over the years from piano giants like Argerich, Arrau, Ashkenazy, Barenboim, de Larrocha, Eschenbach, Kissin, Perahia, Pollini (still my favorites), Rubinstein, and many others. From what I hear on the present disc, Ms. Perez can safely take her place among them.
Ms. Perez plays with a deft, gentle touch, capturing the subtle nuances of Chopin's music with care, feeling, respect, devotion, and love. I enjoyed the way she takes her time with the music, never hurrying it, never over dramatizing it, never over emphasizing anything unnecessarily but letting it speak for itself in smooth, delicate tones. While it may, perhaps, seem to miss some of the brawn and bravura of a few competing recordings, I've never thought of Chopin's music as anything but serene and contemplative, just as Ms. Perez presents it. It might also be easy for critics to characterize Ms. Perez's playing as somewhat sentimental, but I don't see it that way. It never sounds romanticized, just affectionately performed.
Even the quicker items, like the No. 3 Vivace in G major and the No. 11 Vivace in E major, sound poetically graceful in Ms. Perez's hands. Moreover, the most famous of the Preludes--No. 7, for instance, the little Andantino in A major, and No. 15, the popular Sostenuto in D-flat major "Raindrop"--get exquisite treatment.
Ms. Perez has the distinction, too, of making the twenty-four Preludes sound almost of a piece rather than a disparate group of separate items. Under her guidance, they ebb and flow as a unified whole, giving the illusion of a single continuous work.
Filling out the disc are four additional selections: the Prelude in C-sharp major, Op. 45; the Prelude No. 26 in A-flat major (posth.); the Barcarolle in F-sharp major, Op. 60; and the Fantasie in F minor, Op. 49. Needless to say, Ms. Perez applies the same careful, dexterous, illuminating style to them as she does to the Op. 28 Preludes.
Ms. Perez performed the works on a Hamburg Steinway CD147 piano, which Telarc recorded at Patrych Sound Studios, Bronx, New York, and released in 2012. The piano sounds beautifully balanced, not too close, not too distant, not too bright, not too soft. It projects a sweet, mellow, lightly resonant sound that nicely complements the meditative nature of the music.
JJP
May 4, 2012
Blessings, Peace & Harmony (CD review)
"...the kind of singing that we do calms the spirit and helps us live in peace with our world and with one another." --Abbot Philip Lawrence
Gregorian chant has always fascinated people, and you can find any number of recordings of it in the catalogue. Chant itself, traditionally a type of unaccompanied liturgical singing associated with the Catholic Church, has a long history, beginning with Pope Gregory in the Sixth century. It was he whom many early historians assigned credit for cataloguing and simplifying the music of the Church and after whom they named the particular kind of chant represented on this disc. Odds are, however, that Gregory had little to do with the chant we know today, which came to us mostly from centuries later. Chant does have the distinctions, though, of being among the earliest known music written out in the notation we recognize today as well as of being among the earliest examples of polyphonic music, that is, having two or more parts to produce a contrapuntal harmony.
Abbot Lawrence tells us in a booklet note that he and his Benedictine "Monks of the Desert" chose for this album to sing some of the selections because they were familiar to people, some because they were good examples of the music, and some because the monks had never done them before and just wanted to learn them. Fair enough.
About two-thirds of the music on the disc comes from the Catholic Mass. The other third come from devotional pieces, prayers for various occasions. Some of them will have titles familiar to most listeners, Catholic or not: "Kyrie," "Gloria," "Sanctus," "Agnus Dei," "Salve festa dies," the program ending festively with five "Alleluias." The songs represent the Mass, the seasons, and, at the end of day, acknowledgement of Mary as the Mother of God.
Of course, it all comes down to the singing, and if the Monks weren't good, we wouldn't be discussing them. There are, as I say, certainly enough other recordings of chant out there to satisfy any listener. But the Monks are superb, their voices sounding as one. Although the disc booklet does not list any of their names except Abbot Lawrence (they are, after all, a modest and humble group who obviously do not wish to draw attention to themselves rather than the music), there is a picture of them, and they appear to number about fifteen. Yet the fifteen men are of a unified expression, their voices combining into a single, mellow, soothing, and wholly calming meditation. Their singing is beautiful in the extreme, their articulation, phrasing, even their breathing precise yet emotionally expressive.
The Monks of the Desert are a remarkably talented group of men who have clearly spent a good deal of time perfecting their skills. While I mentioned that their voices combine into a wonderfully integrated whole, they are distinct enough individually, too, making the overall result quite effective in more ways than one. As a group of its kind, they are as good as it gets. The monks would no doubt say they offer their songs entirely in the praise of God; we can only thank them for the comfort their voices bring us.
Sony recorded the music of the disc between 1996 and 2010 at the Monastery of Christ in the Desert, Abiquiu, New Mexico, and the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival, Santa Fe, New Mexico. In both venues, the choir sounds pretty much the same, with the Music Festival acoustic perhaps just a tad drier. In either instance, though, the sound is full, rich, open, and reverberant, the voices well rendered in a spacious environment fully complementing the nature of the music.
As a side note, I measured my blood pressure before listening to the album and again an hour later at its conclusion. It was 126/80 at the beginning and 120/75 at the end. You think there's something to this relaxing effect of chant?
"It is always our hope that our singing will bring others to peace, inner tranquility and an appreciation of beauty. These values can help create a world in which peace and tranquility prevail." --Abbot Philip Lawrence
JJP
May 3, 2012
Original Masters: Leopold Stokowski (CD review)
My guess is that the average man-in-the-street wouldn't know too many of the twentieth century's great conductors besides two instantly recognizable names: Arturo Toscanini and Leopold Stokowski. It's an interesting observation because we know the two men often took almost diametrically opposed approaches to their music making, Toscanini sticking scrupulously to the letter of a composer's score and Stokowski altering the score to suit his needs. People over the years have praised and damned both men for their methods, but it is perhaps Stokowski who has incurred the wrath of more critics.
Stokowski spent the bulk of his early career in Philadelphia creating a world-class, world-famous orchestra, leaving after twenty-five years to pursue a variety of conducting jobs all over the world, working well into his mid nineties until his death in 1977. Among other things, he did a series of recordings for Decca between 1965-1972 (when he was still a mere slip of a lad in his eighties and early nineties), and the record company has collected some of them in this five-disc CD set. As usual with Stokowski, there is controversy, both with the performances and with the sound, but I can't imagine the man in any other way. Stokowski without controversy would be like salt without pepper; the two went hand-in-hand, but it took away not a whit less of his genius.
Anyhow, we find on disc one a few of Stokowski's famous, or infamous, orchestral transcriptions of piano and organ works, starting with his celebrated rendition of Bach's Toccata and Fugue for organ in D minor. I was actually in my teens before I realized Bach had originally written this work for organ. I guess I grew up on Stokowski's version for orchestra. This was one of the last times he recorded it, with the Czech Philharmonic, and it's as good as ever; as are a half dozen transcriptions of other Bach works and another half dozen of things by Byrd (Pavan and Galliard), Clarke (Trumpet voluntary), Schubert (Moment musical No. 3), Chopin (Mazurka in A minor), Tchaikovsky (Chant sans paroles), Duparc (Extase), Rachmaninov (Prelude in C sharp minor, another of Stokowski's signature pieces), and Debussy (La Cathedrale engloutie). Whether or not you agree with Stokowski's rearrangements of these pieces, there's hardly any doubt they're entertaining.
Disc two contains several of the set's most outstanding performances, Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 5 with the New Philharmonia and Scriabin's Le Poeme de L'Extase. The Fifth Symphony takes a mite getting used to. Stokowski makes a few cuts to the work and then takes it so broadly in several sections you'd think he'd fallen asleep; yet everything seems to work out just fine, leading to some of the most rousing climaxes imaginable. The Poeme is luxurious, too, but not so vividly recorded with the Czech Philharmonic as the man's earlier Houston interpretation (Vanguard).
Disc three I didn't care for as much as the rest. It includes Frank's Symphony in D with the Hilversum Radio Philharmonic and Elgar's Enigma Variations with the Czech Philharmonic. I used to own the Elgar on LP and finally gave it away because the sound was so unrewarding. Here on CD, the sonics are better, improved mastering perhaps, but the reading still seems excessively romanticized. The old man's Franck never caught fire for me, either.
Ah, but disc four presents a different story. It starts with Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique with the New Philharmonia, a performance that does nothing particularly startling or innovative but turns out remarkably exciting. I could have wished for a less jaunty walk to the scaffold and a little more atmosphere in the "Witches Sabbath," but the work makes an excellent setting for Stokowski's showmanship and quite a demo piece. Following that are several works by Ravel, the Daphnis et Chloe Suite No. 2 with the London Symphony being another of the highlights of the box for me. It's sensuous, sensual, stirring, and as well recorded as anything in the set.
Concluding the show, disc five provides a somewhat mundane reading of Stravinsky's Firebird Suite, quite a lot of sound and fury, followed by what may be the very best thing in the box, Debussy's La Mer, in a performance of unqualified expressiveness. Bringing up the rear is Messiaen's L'Ascension, a relatively modern work (1935) of poetic mysticism that sometimes eludes Stokowski's grasp.
Decca recorded all of the music, as I've said, between 1965-1972, and they utilized their Phase-4 technology for it, an attempt to recreate a spectacular sonic reproduction with close multi-miking. Arthur Lilley was the recording engineer in these sessions, and no matter where he recorded in Phase-4, the results sounded uniformly the same. The sonics will please some listeners and infuriate others, depending on the listeners' ideas about natural sound. On the plus side, the clarity, dynamic range, and impact are often quite impressive. On the downside, bass can vary, sometimes sounding distant or weak; louder passages can occasionally break up and sound very slightly harsh; and imaging is often flat and compartmentalized. Whole sections of the orchestra may speak at once while other sections go practically dead, a hole-in-the-middle effect sometimes evoked. It can be highly enjoyable most of the time and maddening at other times.
To their credit, however, these new remasterings sound as good as or better than any of the LP's of the same material that I remember, smoother, less hard, and less glassy. The best of the lot are Daphnis et Chloe and La Mer, which appear more unified than the rest. Note, though, that none of the sound is up to the work EMI engineers were doing around the same time in the early Seventies with their competing Studio Two discs. I should also mention that as with many other Decca boxed sets, the discs are difficult to get out of their individual cardboard sleeves without leaving fingerprints. Nothing is easy.
Nevertheless, while Decca's Phase-4 sound may be a little hit-and-miss--spectacular to ordinary--it's never bad, and the performances are so compelling they surely make up for it in worthwhile listening.
JJP
May 1, 2012
Whitacre: Water Night (CD review)
Eric Whitacre (b. 1970) is an American composer, conductor, and lecturer who has enjoyed a remarkable spike in popularity these past seven or eight years, thanks in large part to several best-selling record albums of his mostly choral music, like his Light & Gold CD from 2010, and to his "Virtual Choir" projects on YouTube. In 2010 he signed a long-term record contract with Decca, the present disc his second release for the company.
You may have heard the aforementioned, GRAMMY-winning album Light & Gold. This one, Water Night, from 2012 is in much the same crossover-classical vein, the music sung and played by various groups including his own Eric Whitacre Singers and the London Symphony Orchestra, with a couple of well-known soloists thrown in and occasional Latin texts, which Whitacre, a student of the Juilliard School, seems to enjoy. I have no doubt that Water Night will enjoy the same kind of success that Light & Gold did, and it certainly deserves attention.
The question we have to ask, though, is, Why? Why does Whitacre get all the praise, glory, adulation, and profit that probably a thousand other talented classical composers don't get? I would propose several reasons: First, Whitacre strikes a central chord in listeners' hearts; his music is spiritually uplifting in the manner of Arvo Part's, with inspiring messages of hope and salvation for everyone. Second, Whitacre seems to be an old-fashioned Romantic at heart, his music sweet, amiable, and elegant; the tone tranquil; the tempos calm and soothing; the style straightforward, sometimes sentimental; the voices uniformly reassuring. Who wouldn't respond to that? Third, he has attracted some of the biggest and best names in the business to perform and promote his music, in this case the Decca record label, the LSO, soprano Hila Plitmann, and cellist Julian Lloyd Webber. Then, fourth, there is the man's pure sex appeal. OK, maybe you weren't expecting that one. But it's true. Just as record companies favor beautiful, young, female musicians who are not only talented but make attractive cover art, so does Whitacre himself ooze sex appeal. Just glance at his pictures: He's relatively young, with the rugged good looks of a movie star, trendy long hair, and a stubble beard so chic these days. He could have stepped off the front page of any voguish men's fashion magazine. So, yeah, he's got it all, and I'm sure he's deserving of every bit of it.
OK, I think we've established that Whitacre writes beautiful music. Can we truly call it "classical"? Of course, we can, and, besides, it doesn't matter how much it crosses over into pop. Music is music, and if you enjoy it, who cares what you call it. Will any of Whitacre's music become "classic," that is, lasting? That we won't know for forty or fifty years. Right now, I'd call his material pleasurable but not necessarily memorable. I can appreciate it while I'm listening to it, but I doubt I could whistle any of it five minutes from now. We'll have to wait and see on the "classic" end.
The program begins with what is one of the best numbers on the program, "Alleluia" ("Praise the Lord") sung by the Eric Whitacre Singers. The composer says in a booklet note that he's neither an atheist nor a Christian, but he finds this particular liturgical word enchanting. Although the hymn is little more than the repetition of the word "Alleluia," it conveys a wealth of feeling.
"Equus," with the LSO, one of the only purely orchestral tracks in the album, is an example of what Whitacre calls "dynamic minimalism." However, it is far more than that and sounds at times as though John Williams had written it for a Spielberg epic.
Another favorite among the nine selections is "The River Cam," with cello and string accompaniment. It is a piece of music in the British "pastoral" school, reminiscent of Arnold Bax, Frederick Delius, Frank Bridge, or Ralph Vaughan Williams. It's quite lovely, and, for me, the best piece of pure "classical" music on the disc. I hope this one has a real lasting power.
The title tune, "Water Night," is one we heard on the Light & Gold album in choral form. Here, the LSO strings perform an orchestral version that I found even more affecting. Again, it follows a lightly meandering pastoral course, inspired by the poetry of Octavio Paz.
Then, Whitacre set some of the words from author Margaret Wise Brown's "Goodnight Moon" to music, here sung by Whitacre's wife, soprano Hila Plitmann with an accompaniment from the LSO. It's a charming lullaby and can almost bring tears to one's eyes.
And so it goes.
Recorded at St. Albans the Martyr Church, Holborn, London, and Henry Wood Hall, London, the sound is uniformly smooth and expansive, with an enormous dynamic range and solid impact. You won't find a lot of depth or air in the presentation, nor will you probably care. There are too many other things going on, like the superwide stereo spread and the extended frequency response. In other words, it is sound that matches and complements the music.
JJP
Meet the Staff
Understand, I'm just an everyday guy reacting to something I love. And I've been doing it for a very long time, my appreciation for classical music starting with the musical excerpts on the Big Jon and Sparkie radio show in the early Fifties and the purchase of my first recording, The 101 Strings Play the Classics, around 1956. In the late Sixties I began teaching high school English and Film Studies as well as becoming interested in hi-fi, my audio ambitions graduating me from a pair of AR-3 speakers to the Fulton J's recommended by The Stereophile's J. Gordon Holt. In the early Seventies, I began writing for a number of audio magazines, including Audio Excellence, Audio Forum, The Boston Audio Society Speaker, The American Record Guide, and from 1976 until 2008, The $ensible Sound, for which I served as Classical Music Editor.
Today, I'm retired from teaching and use a pair of bi-amped VMPS RM40s loudspeakers for my listening. In addition to writing for the Classical Candor blog, I served as the Movie Review Editor for the Web site Movie Metropolis (formerly DVDTown) from 1997-2013. Music and movies. Life couldn't be better.
For more than 20 years I was the editor of The $ensible Sound magazine and a regular contributor to both its equipment and recordings review pages. I would not presume to present myself as some sort of expert on music, but I have a deep love for and appreciation of many types of music, "classical" especially, and have listened to thousands of recordings over the years, many of which still line the walls of my listening room (and occasionally spill onto the furniture and floor, much to the chagrin of my long-suffering wife). I have always taken the approach as a reviewer that what I am trying to do is simply to point out to readers that I have come across a recording that I have found of interest, a recording that I think they might appreciate my having pointed out to them. I suppose that sounds a bit simple-minded, but I know I appreciate reading reviews by others that do the same for me — point out recordings that they think I might enjoy.
For readers who might be wondering about what kind of system I am using to do my listening, I should probably point out that I do a LOT of music listening and employ a variety of means to do so in a variety of environments, as I would imagine many music lovers also do. Starting at the more grandiose end of the scale, the system in which I do my most serious listening comprises Marantz CD 6007 and Onkyo CD 7030 CD players, NAD C 658 streaming preamp/DAC, Legacy Audio PowerBloc2 amplifier, and a pair of Legacy Audio Focus SE loudspeakers. I occasionally do some listening through pair of Sennheiser 560S headphones. I miss the excellent ELS Studio sound system in our 2016 Acura RDX (now my wife's daily driver) on which I had ripped more than a hundred favorite CDs to the hard drive, so now when driving my 2022 Accord EX-L Hybrid I stream music from my phone through its adequate but not outstanding factory system. For more casual listening at home when I am not in my listening room, I often stream music through the phone into a Vizio soundbar system that has tolerably nice sound for such a diminutive physical presence. And finally, at the least grandiose end of the scale, I have an Ultimate Ears Wonderboom II Bluetooth speaker for those occasions where I am somewhere by myself without a sound system but in desperate need of a musical fix. I just can’t imagine life without music and I am humbly grateful for the technology that enables us to enjoy it in so many wonderful ways.
Among my early childhood memories are those of listening to my mother playing records (some even 78 rpm ones!) of both classical music and jazz tunes. I suppose that her love of music was transmitted genetically, and my interest was sustained by years of playing in rock bands – until I realized that this was no way to make a living. The interest in classical music was rekindled in grad school when the university FM station serving as background music for studying happened to play the Brahms First Symphony. As the work came to an end, it struck me forcibly that this was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard, and from that point on, I never looked back. This revelation was to the detriment of my studies, as I subsequently spent way too much time simply listening, but music has remained a significant part of my life. These days, although I still can tell a trumpet from a bassoon and a quarter note from a treble clef, I have to admit that I remain a nonexpert. But I do love music in general and classical music in particular, and I enjoy sharing both information and opinions about it.
The audiophile bug bit about the same time that I returned to classical music. I’ve gone through plenty of equipment, brands from Audio Research to Yamaha, and the best of it has opened new audio insights. Along the way, I reviewed components, and occasionally recordings, for The $ensible Sound magazine. Most recently I’ve moved to my “ultimate system” consisting of a BlueSound Node streamer, an ancient Toshiba multi-format disk player serving as a CD transport, Legacy Wavelet II DAC/preamp/crossover, dual Legacy PowerBloc2 amps, and Legacy Signature SE speakers (biamped), all connected with decently made, no-frills cables. With the arrival of CD and higher resolution streaming, that is now the source for most of my listening.
I started listening to and studying classical music in earnest nearly three decades ago. This interest grew naturally out of my training as a pianist. I am now a musicologist by profession, specializing in British and other symphonic music of the 19th and 20th centuries. My scholarly work has been published in major music journals, as well as in other outlets. Current research focuses include twentieth-century symphonic historiography, and the music of Jean Sibelius, Ralph Vaughan Williams, and Malcolm Arnold.
I am honored to contribute writings to Classical Candor. In an age where the classical recording industry is being subjected to such profound pressures and changes, it is more important than ever for those of us steeped in this cultural tradition to continue to foster its love and exposure. I hope that my readers can find value, no matter how modest, in what I offer here.
I initially embraced classical music in 1954 when I mistuned my car radio and heard the Heifetz recording of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto. That inspired me to board the new "hi-fi" DIY bandwagon. In 1957 I joined one of the pioneer semiconductor makers and spent the next 32 years marketing transistors and microcircuits to military contractors. Home audio DIY projects remained a personal passion until 1989 when we created our own new photography equipment company. I later (2012) revived my interest in two channel audio when we "downsized" our life and determined that mini-monitors + paired subwoofers were a great way to mate fine music with the space constraints of condo living.
Visitors that view my technical papers on this site may wonder why they appear here, rather than on a site that features audio equipment reviews. My reason is that I tried the latter, and prefer to publish for people who actually want to listen to music; not to equipment. My focus is in describing what's technically beneficial to assure that the sound of the system will accurately replicate the source input signal (i. e. exhibit high accuracy) without inordinate cost and complexity. Conversely, most of the audiophiles of today strive to achieve sound that's euphonic, i.e. be personally satisfying. In essence, audiophiles seek sound that's consistent with their desire; the music is simply a test signal.