Robertson: Symphony No. 1 (CD review)

Also, Suite for Orchestra; Variations for Small Orchestra. Anthony Armore, Janacek Philharmonic Orchestra. Navona Records NV6167.

Canadian composer John Roberton has one of those names you'd swear you've heard before. When I first saw this disc, I thought for sure I had reviewed or at least listened to something by him in the past few years. Nope. Nothing. So, he was a completely new discovery for me.

Interestingly, Robertson came to his present vocation relatively late in life. Although he was born in New Zealand in 1943, he didn't begin seriously studying musical composition until the 1970's and didn't hit it big until 1987 when he won a public performance in a composition competition for his Variations for Small Orchestra, Op 14. From then on, he has had his work performed internationally, and this is, I believe, his second recording, both of them on the Navona label.

The album under review begins with an early piece, his Symphony No. 1, Op. 18, from 1988. Or 2014 if you like, since the work lay unperformed for twenty-six years when it finally debuted in Ruse, Bulgaria. Although the disc's booklet note describes it as "a somewhat somber work," I found it attractively accessible. It's in three movements that vary from serious to poetic to lighthearted.

While the symphony begins a touch ominously, it soon enough takes us on flights of fancy and melody. Yes, actual melodies in a modern work, things often eschewed by modern composers for fear of being branded old-fashioned. There's even a segment for snare drum that is quite winning. A clarinet sets the stage for the slow second movement, which is graceful, lyrical, and vaguely elegiac. It's a thoroughly lovely few minutes. Then we get a final movement that recalls the first movement, beginning with the closing of the second movement's meditative violin solo and moving on to more sprightly and bucolic themes. While the symphony may, indeed, be at risk of being labeled a bit old fashioned, it provides a welcome respite for troubled times.

John Robertson

The Janacek Philharmonic under conductor Anthony Armore play the music with a sympathetic eye toward lush, luxuriant sound, giving the music a handsomely polished air. It's all quite easy on the ear and soothing to the mind.

The second piece on the program is the newest, Robertson's Suite for Orchestra, Op. 46, which premiered as a complete work (various movements had debuted separately) in 2010. The section titles sum up its contents pretty well: "Fanfare," "Waltz," "Elegy," and "March." Like the preceding symphony, the Suite offers up some friendly and responsive tunes, including an intentionally "old-fashioned" (that term again) waltz, with a hint of Ives. The "Elegy" is a wistful affair, but the final "March" is a full-on example of its kind, played by Armore and his team with plenty of zest and bravura.

The disc concludes with the aforementioned Variations for Small Orchestra, 1987. While it is perhaps not as accomplished as the later works and a little more disjointed, it contains a few charming cadences (with a delightful waltz in the finale) and its fair share of approachable themes.

Executive producer Bob Lord and engineers Ondfey Danek, Jan Kosulic, and Jaroslav Zouhar recorded the music in the recording studio at the Concert Hall in Ostrava, Czech Republic, October 2016. They obtained quite a good response, the sound being among the best I've heard from any new recording this year, especially in the Symphony No. 1, which seems notably smoother than the others. The high-end clarity is outstanding; the midrange transparency is effortless; and the bass end holds up its part in the proceedings. One also hears a good dynamic response and a clear sense of orchestral depth, adding to the recording's sense of realism.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 "Choral" (CD review)

George Szell, Cleveland Orchestra and Chorus. Sony SMK 60987.

With this release from the late Nineties, Sony presented a line of low-priced classical reissues in conjunction with National Public Radio's "Performance Today." The series was called "Milestones of the Millennium," and, at least initially, it consisted mainly of collections of short works built around a central theme: "The Renaissance in Music," "Bach: The Brook and the Wellspring," that sort of thing. The first complete work Sony issued in the line was this Beethoven Ninth, and they couldn't have chosen a better representative.

Hungarian-born conductor George Szell (1897-1970) recorded this Ninth for CBS at Severance Hall, Cleveland in 1961, and as such I missed it back then. Well, I was in high school at the time, so what can I say? By the time CBS re-released it on vinyl, I had come to find many CBS LPs sounded too bright, too limited in their response, and too noisy for my taste. I even bypassed the earliest CD reissue of the recording. Anyway, much of that changed with this 1999 remastering. The Szell performance is a marvel of precision and control. It is truly electric, from the opening Allegro through the final notes of the great chorus, under the direction of Chorus Master Robert Shaw, and the recording's sound quality is at least tolerable.

George Szell

First to the performance, where the tension never lets up, not even in the Adagio, which is supposed to be the leisurely interlude that lets us catch our breath. Instead, Szell helps the Adagio zing along at a pace that is not so much fast as it is dynamic. Then, the magnificent choral outburst that concludes and concludes and concludes the piece again is reworked with ever greater intensity, with soloists Adele Addison, Jane Hobson, Richard Lewis, and Donald Bell singing splendidly.

The interpretation may not reach the heights of grandeur attained by the likes of Schmidt-Isserstedt and the Vienna Philharmonic (HDTT), Eugen Jochum and the London Symphony (EMI), Jochum and the Concertgebouw Orchestra (Philips-Belart), Georg Solti and the Chicago Symphony (Decca), or Karl Bohm and the Vienna Philharmonic (DG), but it matches and sometimes exceeds them in terms of force and concentration, and that's saying a lot.

Sony's remastering used 20-bit SBM technology to obtain the best possible sound from the original source, and while it cannot measure up to some of the discs I've mentioned, it's good for its age. The Szell is a fairly close recording, a feature especially noticeable during the entrance of the soloists in the "Ode to Joy." Still, one gets used to it. Besides, the booklet note informs us that in Beethoven's day the chorus would have stood right in front of the orchestra.

The sound is slightly edgy, with a degree of sheen taken off the top end, indicating some degree of noise reduction. In spite of that, however, there is a low-level tape hiss present in the background. Bass is adequate, though not particularly deep, and the loudest choral passages tend to get a little congested and distorted. Regardless, these are minor faults, and anyone who gets caught up in the performance probably wouldn't notice, audiophiles excepted. At the price, it seems definitely worth a listen.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Bruch: Scottish Fantasy (CD review)

Also, Violin Concerto No. 1. Joshua Bell, soloist and conductor; Academy of St. Martin in the Fields. Sony Classical 19075 84200 2.

Since its founding by John Churchill and Sir Neville Marriner in 1959, the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields has been among the most-prominent chamber orchestras in the world. I was lucky enough to have begun collecting their recordings about the time Sir Neville started conducting them from the podium in the early 1960's, and I have followed their career through the years on L'Oiseau-Lyre, Argo, Decca, Philips, EMI, Collins, Chandos, DG, CORO, and now Sony. Although they seemed to lose a little of their recording presence during the early 2000's, their current Music Director since 2011, violinist Joshua Bell, has brought them back into the public eye. I certainly welcome any new recording by them.

The current disc features two of the most-popular works by the German Romantic composer
Max Bruch (1838–1920): his Scottish Fantasy and Violin Concerto No. 1. Record producers and conductors often pair these pieces on their discs, but seldom is the Scottish Fantasy announced so prominently. Indeed, in this case it is the only work mentioned on the cover of Bell's album. I didn't even know they included the Violin Concerto until I looked at the back of the jewel box.

Anyway, the first thing on the disc is Bruch's Scottish Fantasy, which he finished in 1880, dedicating it to the violin virtuoso Pablo de Sarasate. The Fantasy is, of course, Bruch's survey of Scottish folk tunes, loosely tied together in four movements.

The Fantasy starts off rather solemnly with an introduction marked "Grave," which is slow and somber before giving way to the more familiar and frolicsome melodies that follow. The Adagio cantabile, for example, floats gently overheard, doing much favor and grace to the Scottish love song that inspired it. Then, the Scherzo has a charming flow that melds imperceptibly with the folk tune of the Andante that succeeds it. Yes, there is a good deal of sentimentality in the music, yet it's a delightful sentimentality no less. The work concludes with a finale that is the most overtly "Scottish" of the Fantasy's music.

Joshua Bell

I have no idea why Bruch chose to start so charming a piece of music with so somber an introduction, but Bell soon enough takes us into the sweeping melodies that audiences have always loved. His violin almost sings the notes, plaintively, longingly, lovingly. Then Bell moves along to the Scherzo, which he takes at an unhurried if somewhat subdued pace. Here, I thought he might have provided a little more vitality. Bell's treatment of the Andante is subtly melancholic without being in any way gushing, and then he paints all of the final movement's sweet strains with colorful characterization. Again, his chosen tempos take us on a leisurely journey through the Scottish countryside, with few distractions.

Does Bell's performance compete with my favorite artist in this music, Jascha Heifetz on RCA? Not for me, not quite. Bell is a degree too relaxed and too careful with the score, whereas Heifetz seemed to throw himself into the music. Still, Bell's fans will doubtless appreciate his work, and there is no questioning his earnest sympathy for Bruch's tunes.

The coupling, as I said earlier, is the Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor, which Bruch revised in 1867 and which has become one of the staples of the violin repertoire ever since. It has an unusual first movement, a Vorspiel (or Prelude), leading directly to the second movement. This Vorspiel is like a slow march, with some ornamental flourishes along the way. The second-movement Adagio, a series of broadly sweeping themes, is beautifully melodious and forms the core of the work. Then comes the Finale, which begins quietly until the violin opens up with a vivacious theme in the form of a dance.

Again, Bell plays it safe with moderate tempos and smooth phrasing throughout. His violin tone is immaculate, and the orchestra, as always, is attentive and articulate. I enjoyed the Adagio best of all, with Bell giving it a wistful but never doleful air. With the Finale Bell again sounds just right, although I didn't think the music quite took flight. Thus, Bell delivers a reliable, measured, carefully constructed interpretation with little to fault and a good deal to commend.

For reasons unknown, the folks at Sony supply no timings for any of the tracks, neither on the back of the jewel box nor inside the booklet. No idea why.

Adam Abeshouse produced, engineered, edited, mixed, and mastered the disc, recording it at Air Studios, London, UK in September 2017. The first thing noticeable about the sound is that it's fairly resonant. Then, when the violin enters, the instrument appears well in front of the orchestra, while occasionally moving back toward it at will. I'm not sure why Mr. Abeshouse chose these qualities; perhaps with the resonance he wanted the smallish chamber orchestra to sound bigger than it was; perhaps by occasionally moving the soloist forward and back he wanted to emphasize the violin's part in the proceedings.

In regard to the resonance, I doubt that any recording studio would be this reverberant, but I've never been there so I don't know. Maybe the sound would be just right if listened to through ear-buds, in a car, or via inexpensive computer speakers; again, I don't know. But through my VMPS towers, the orchestral sound was often a bit too flat, too forward, too clouded, or too muffled for my taste, as well as a bit hard and bright in the upper registers. The violin, on the other hand, sounded mostly clear and vibrant, if sometimes, as I say, too close. In short, the recording produces an ever-changing sonic perspective, which listeners will either ignore or find distracting.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Franck: Symphony in D Minor (CD review)

Also, Stravinsky: Petrouchka. Pierre Monteux, Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Boston Symphony Orchestra. RCA Living Stereo 09026-63303-2.

To say that these interpretations are authoritative would be an understatement. Maestro Pierre Monteux performed the Franck Symphony in D Minor probably more so than any conductor before or since; and he premiered the Stravinsky Petrouchka in 1911. These recordings, from 1961 and 1959 respectively, were his last words on the subject. 

In terms of both performance and sound, my own previous favorites for the Franck Symphony were Charles Dutoit's digital recording on Decca and Sir Thomas Beecham's on EMI. I'll stick with commenting on Dutoit for comparison purposes, his performance and sound being very good (although not quite as good as Beecham's). Alongside the remastered Monteux, however, Dutoit seems more matter of fact, more suavely elegant, to be sure, but ultimately more mundane than Monteux. Monteux, on the other hand, is more reposed and more insightful. Although his timings are not much different from Dutoit's, Monteux's pacing is more meaningful for his greater lingering on pauses, his greater affection for phrasing.

Pierre Monteux

The music under Monteux is just as dramatic in the opening and closing movements as Dutoit's, swinging from moody to energetic, but it is especially more ravishing in the central Allegretto, with its prominent English horn solo, and in the playfulness of the slender scherzo-like theme that follows. The sound of the Dutoit disc is admittedly more detailed, but it is really no more lifelike. Where the newer Decca recording comes into its own is by its filling in the center of the orchestral sound better, Monteux's RCA recording being a bit more prominent in the left and right channels.     

The Stravinsky is another matter, and none of my references here--Rattle, Muti, Ansermet, Davis, and Haitink--moved me as much as Monteux did. Petrouchka has always struck me as a rather creepy little ballet, anyway, and Monteux brings out all the color of the slightly sinister characters and events.

The sound is even better here with the Boston Symphony than in the Franck with the CSO. My only previous experience with the recording was on an old LP that disappointed me greatly for its dullness and noise. But the recording is now shiny and well remastered, the highs sparkling, the midrange natural, the bass robust, the stereo spread considerable. Interestingly, Monteux introduced Petrouchka to American audiences in 1920 while also conducting the Boston Symphony Orchestra.

To have both performances on a single, mid-priced CD is a godsend (and more recently remastered on an SACD). Obviously, I highly recommend it.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Mendelssohn: A Midsummer Night's Dream (SACD review)

Also, Fanny Mendelssohn: Songs. Anna Lucia Richter, soprano; Barbara Kozelj, alto; Pro Musica women's choir; Ivan Fischer, Budapest Festival Orchestra. Channel Classics CCS SA 37418.

At the risk of making this review more about me than the music, let me start with a comment about myself anyway. I first started listening to recordings of Mendelssohn's A Midsummer Night's Dream in the mid Sixties with Otto Klemperer's 1960 EMI LP. It was the familiar suite we hear on the present recording, and Klemperer remains my favorite. In the late Seventies Andre Previn recorded more than the suite, adding most of the interludes and connecting music. His album, also for EMI, was just as charming as Klemperer's and equally well recorded. It's still a favorite, too, and between them they have served as touchstones for the dozens of recordings of the piece I've heard since.

Which brings us (rather long-windedly) to Ivan Fischer's Channel Classics recording with his Budapest Festival Orchestra. It's as light and airy, as cheerful and delightful, as any I've heard. But even though it comes to us on a modern digital SACD, the sound doesn't have quite the clarity or balance of the old EMI (now Warner) issues. Still, it's nice to have so refreshing a new release as Fischer's.

As you probably know, German composer Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847) began work on his music for William Shakespeare's comedy A Midsummer Night's Dream as a teenager, composing the Overture in 1826 when he was only seventeen. Then he stopped, completing the work some sixteen years later in 1841 while employed by the Prussian court. It was here that King Frederick William IV suggested to Mendelssohn that he compose some complete incidental music for a new production of the Shakespeare play, and Mendelssohn complied since he had already written the opening tune.

Ivan Fischer

Maestro Fischer gives us ten of the most-popular selections from Mendelssohn's incidental music, starting, of course, with that early Overture. Fischer's way with the music is gentle and affectionate, almost consistently keeping it as light and airy as it should be. Indeed, this is, overall, the best recorded performance I've yet heard from Fischer, and he has always seemed to me more than competent. In this case, he's a real contender, and his Budapest players seem to have a genuine feel for the music.

Throughout most of the other numbers, Fischer is quick and lively. This works in most cases, although his approach to the Nocturne tends to diminish some of its lyricism. Nevertheless, the sprightly vigor of the playing is a delight, and, as I say, practically everything dances along with unvarnished joy. Fischer's interpretation brings out all the humor, all the color, and all the fairy-tale qualities of the score. It's really quite charming. Oh, those "spotted snakes." Lovely.

And, no, I didn't forget the "Wedding March." Under Fischer it projects all the exuberance of the occasion. Above all, though, it's regal and elegant, things some conductors forget as they get carried away in the heat of the moment.

Accompanying the Midsummer Night music, we get three songs with orchestra composed by Fanny Mendelssohn (1805-1847), Felix's sister. Soprano Anna Lucia Richter, who sang the first fairy in the preceding Midsummer Night music, handles the solos. Because of the prevailing attitudes toward women in Fanny's day, Felix's music got all the attention. Fanny even had to publish some of her work under her brother's name. Fortunately, more of Fanny's music is coming to light these days, and we're more the better for it. Here, they are quite enchanting.

Producer Hein Dekker and recording engineers Hein Dekker and Jared Sacks recorded the music at the Palace of Arts, Budapest, Hungary in January 2015. They made the disc for hybrid multichannel and two-channel SACD and two-channel CD playback. I listened in the two-channel SACD mode.

The sound is quite nice. It's very dynamic, with a reasonably good depth of image for added realism. The stage width is not quite so wide as many competing recordings, yet it provides a lifelike perspective representing a moderate concert-hall listening distance. Ultimate definition is a tad lacking, but that, too, is not unlike what one might hear at a real concert as opposed to an entirely transparent audiophile studio effect. It's all warm and smooth and reverberant and easily listenable.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

American Flute Concertos (CD review)

Mary Stolper, flute; Paul Freeman, Czech National Symphony Orchestra. Cedille Records CDR 90000 046.

Cedille Records just keep rolling merrily along, producing some of the best-sounding CDs in the marketplace. Even when the recording originates in Prague, as this one does, it sounds as natural and lifelike as the company's Chicago-based productions.

The works for flute and orchestra presented here are all by American composers, meaning they are relatively modern. The earliest was written in 1918, Charles Griffes's "Poem for Flute and Orchestra."  It is done in a single, ten-minute movement, largely melancholy, with a simple lyrical twist about halfway through. Coming next chronologically is Kent Kennan's "Night Soliloquy for Flute, Strings and Piano," 1936. He aptly titled it, as it conjures up images of a quiet, almost eerie night that builds up momentum to a dramatic solo, eventually fading into nothingness.

The most famous name on the program is that of Virgil Thomson, represented here by his "Concerto for Flute, Strings, Harp and Percussion" from 1954. It is unusual in that its first movement is entirely a flute solo. It is mostly calm and settled, building only slightly as it moves forward; it is followed by a sullen middle movement, and then by the entrance of harp and percussion in the finale.

Mary Stolper

From 1960 comes Elie Siegmeister's "Concerto for Flute and Orchestra." It begins as a nostalgic piece and then works its way toward jazz and more modern rhythms by the end. Finally, the newest work on the disc is the one that opens the album, Lita Grier's "Renascence," 1996, which the composer calls her "rebirth" because it was her first new composition in over thirty years. Of the three movements, the first and third are quick, lively, spirited, and just a little quirky. They display a variety of temperaments, none developed at length. The slow middle movement, however, is beautifully haunting and Debussy-like in its pastel shadings.

Handling the flute solos is Mary Stolper, currently the Principal Flute of the Grant Park Symphony, Chicago Opera Theater, and the music ensemble Fulcrum Point. Throughout these works, her playing remains graceful, fluid, and animated by turns. The late conductor Paul Freeman's orchestral accompaniment is almost invisible, and the Czech National Symphony Orchestra provides a cozy support. Although the album is a little on the somber side, it takes a fascinating and well-deserved glimpse at some of America's less-known and perhaps less-appreciated music.

The sound for the disc is clear, reasonably transparent, and well balanced, never unduly highlighting any single instrument, except, of course, the flute, which the engineers have placed realistically within the ensemble setting.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Beethoven: Symphony No. 9 (CD review)

Also, a discussion of the work by the conductor. Rebecca Evans, Patricia Bardon, Robert Murray, Derek Welton, Philharmonia Chorus; Benjamin Zander, Philharmonia Orchestra. Brattle Media 2018 (3-CD set).

First, let me one thing clear: I don't think any conductor purposely sets out to produce a bad performance. Some of our greatest conductors have been criticized for their idiosyncrasies: Stokowski, Klemperer, Karajan, Toscanini. Yet the record catalogues are filled with conductors who do the opposite and take the safe route, creating bland recordings that sound like almost everyone else's. I say this because Maestro Benjamin Zander had his fair share of criticism some years ago when he first recorded the Beethoven Ninth using Beethoven's own, rather zippy metronome tempos, and I have no doubt he'll come in for more such criticism for this second such realization. Whether you like the interpretation or hate it, however, know that Maestro Zander is giving it his best shot at providing what he considers a fresh and refreshing approach to the subject matter.

OK, so if you'll recall, when Philips and Sony developed the compact disc back in the early Eighties, they decided on a storage limit of about seventy-five minutes because that was the average length of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony. Well, Zander's New Philharmonia performance, using Beethoven's own metronome markings, clocks in at just over fifty-eight minutes. Of course, not everyone agrees that Beethoven's own metronome was entirely accurate or that Beethoven actually knew how to use it, but fifty-eight minutes? That's faster than most conductors take the score even when they're following the tempo markings precisely. For instance, Roger Norrington in his period-instruments reading comes in almost four minutes longer than Zander.

The thing is, as I said, Maestro Zander had already used this approach with the Beethoven Ninth. In his IMP Masters recording with the Boston Philharmonic twenty-odd years earlier, he did almost the same thing, his performance clocking in at just slightly under fifty-eight minutes, no more than a few seconds different from here. Frankly, I'm not sure what the point is in adhering slavishly to Beethoven's tempo markings in the first place, and I'm not sure why Zander felt it necessary to do it all over again in a second recording. In any case, we have what we have.

Benjamin Zander

Interestingly, it was just last year that I reviewed a similarly peppy reading of the Ninth with David Bernard and his Park Avenue Chamber Symphony on the Recursive Classics label. Bernard also claimed to follow Beethoven's original tempos, but his rendition seems less rushed than Zander's (and, in fact, is slower by some seven minutes). Zander, on the other hand, appears hell-bent-for-leather almost throughout, perhaps hoping to gain a measure of notoriety by being the fastest Ninth on record. I don't know.

Anyway, Ludwig van Beethoven composed his Symphony No. 9 in D minor between 1822 and 1824, and it would be his final completed symphony. Its most prominent feature, of course, is the use of a vocal movement--soloists and chorus--for the finale (and, thus, its nickname "The Choral Symphony"). It's a monumental work, the choral finale preceded by an Allegro, Scherzo, and Adagio.

Under Zander the first movement Allegro ma non troppo is robust in the extreme and flashes by in a hurry. Perhaps it's a matter of the metronome marking and the tempo designation being somewhat in conflict. The second movement Scherzo is, if anything, the most normal part of Zander's proceedings. I found his pace for it satisfying, though not particularly imaginative. Next, we have the third movement Adagio, which I'm sure Beethoven meant to be lyrical and sensitive. Instead it seems rather lacking in such qualities because of Mr. Zander's insistence upon rushing through it. He, of course, claims he is doing things exactly as Beethoven intended and that it is only long-standing tradition that has given us lengthier, more-solemn interpretations. Fair enough, but where's the beauty in that?

Then we come to the concluding choral movement (the familiar "Ode to Joy"), the moment we've all been waiting for. Here again we get Maestro Zander fairly racing through the pages, only this time the singers have to keep up. Even though they mostly do, they sound a bit breathless at times, too. Although there is no question Zander's realization has its thrilling moments, they tend to overshadow the composer's objective here, for the music to be above all joyous.

So there you have it: a Ninth Symphony for people in a hurry. Maestro Zander seems so sincere and so dedicated to his tempo proposition that it's hard not to like the product. But that is, indeed, my case. I found it only intermittently interesting, but mostly just fast and fussy. The conductor appears to spend the bulk of his time adhering to the letter of the score while missing much of its spirit. While it can be exciting, to be sure, it appears to lack heart, feeling, affection. OK, I know that Mr. Zander would say it is his love of the work that has driven him to stick so closely to the printed page; however, that may not help the listener to like the reading any better.

In addition to the symphony, Maestro Zander includes a two-and-a-half hour discussion of the music, along with musical examples, which takes up two bonus discs. If you remember Zander's discussions of the Mahler symphonies for Telarc, you'll get the idea. Some listeners will no doubt find his extensive commentary enlightening and instructional, while others, like myself, may find it more than a bit long-winded. His primary objective appears to be to convince his audience that his interpretation is not only valid but revelatory and imperative and far more accurate than any others. The discussion, a lecture really, seems to me a little too didactic to be entirely satisfying or engaging.

Producers Elaine Marton and David St. George and engineer Robert Friedrich recorded the symphony at Watford Colosseum, London, in March 2017. The sound is appropriately dynamic, a tad soft but well imaged. Bass and treble extensions seem pretty good, while midrange definition is only average. Solo voices are clear and distinct; choral voices are slightly less sharp and frequently a tad bright and forward.

The CD will be available to purchase on July 16^th (the release date) on Amazon, iTunes/Apple Music, and Spotify.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Addinsell: Warsaw Concerto (CD review)

Romantic Piano Classics from the Silver Screen. Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano; Hugh Wolf, BBC Symphony Orchestra; Vladimir Ashkenazy, the Cleveland Orchestra. Decca 289 460 503-2.

The movies have forever used classical music as themes and background, from the earliest silent films and their piano and organ accompaniment to today's big-screen, multichannel blockbusters. Stanley Kubrick practically revived the entire classical-music scene with his groundbreaking films. But of the five items on the Decca disc under review, only the ersatz Warsaw Concerto was written directly for a film, Dangerous Moonlight, in 1941. All the other pieces derive from existing classical material.

The other works included are parts of Rachmaninov's Second Piano Concerto and Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, and Shostakovich's Second Piano Concerto. These selections featured in the films Brief Encounter, The Seven Year Itch, The Story of Three Loves, Groundhog Day, Rhapsody in Blue, and Manhattan.

Jean-Yves Thibaudet

French pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet plays all of the music almost painfully romantically, yearningly, wistfully, rapturously, if not always so forcefully as you might find elsewhere. The Rachmaninov Adagio, for instance, lacks much fire in spite of its ecstatic nature. The orchestras, Cleveland under Vladimir Ashkenazy for the Rachmaninov selections and the BBC Symphony with Hugh Wolf for the others, play in lush, gushing accompaniment. It's all appropriate for the temperament of the compositions, so I'm not complaining, you understand.

In the early days of digital recording, critics complained of too much brightness, hardness, and edginess in the sound. By the Nineties or so, however, record companies had gone out of their way to produce just the opposite, often erring in the direction of too soft a focus. I suppose the works on this disc, recorded between 1994-98, benefit psychologically from the big, warm sound Decca provides them, but the sonics aren't always as clear as an audiophile might like.

The Warsaw Concerto, as an example, receives a far more incisive and transparent rendering from Daniel Adni on EMI's "Classics for Pleasure" label, and Ashkenazy's own, earlier analogue discs with Andre Previn are more lucid (and more heartfelt) than these. Still, if one's audio system tends toward the upper frequencies, as many of today's movie-oriented speakers do, these performances might just compensate. Otherwise, this remains a good collection of mood music, better played and certainly better written than most of what passes for theme music in a lot of today's movies.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

Wagner: Orchestral Music from The Ring (CD review)

JoAnn Falletta, Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra. Naxos 8.573839.

Since entering the musical stage in the late 1970's, JoAnn Falletta's reputation and popularity have grown in prominence. Today, she is the musical director of the Buffalo Philharmonic, a post she has held for twenty years, as well as director the Virginia Symphony, and she has, remarkably, recorded over seventy albums, mostly for the Naxos label.

Eventually, we knew she'd have to get around to recording Wagner, and on the current disc she offers orchestral music from all four of Der Ring des Nibelungen's music dramas: Das Rheingold, Die Walkure, Siegfried, and Gotterdammerung. If you enjoy Wagner's symphonic music from The Ring but haven't the patience to sit through the lengthy vocals parts, Ms. Falletta's handling of these scores is about as good as any.

Things begin with Das Rheingold and the "Entrance of the Gods into Valhalla." It's grand, glorious music, setting the tone for the rest of the album. Ms. Falletta uses it as a kind of overture. It gets our attention and heightens our expectations. And her Buffalo players are up to the task; they may not yet be in the sphere of a Berlin Philharmonic, but they are a first-rate ensemble.

Next, we get two items from Die Walkure: "The Ride of the Valkyries" and ""Wotan's Farewell" and "Magic Fire Music," both arranged by W. Hutschenruyter. Needless to say, the "Valkyries" music is among the most famous in all the classical repertoire. If you're old enough, you may remember Elmer Fudd singing "Kill da Wabbit" in the 1957 Looney Tunes cartoon "What's Opera, Doc," or perhaps you'll recall Colonel Kilgore (Robert Duvall) blasting the tune from his helicopters in Francis Coppola's 1979 war film Apocalypse Now. Ms. Falletta imbues the "Valkyries" music with the proper energy it requires and goes on to invest "Wotan's Farewell" and "Magic Fire Music" with plenty of color, power, and vitality.

JoAnn Falletta

After those items is the lovely "Forest Murmurs" from Siegfried, arranged by H. Zumpe. Here, we get Wagner at his most picturesque, a short tone poem depicting the pastoral beauties of nature. Ms. Falletta does it justice, and, in fact, it is probably the highlight of the disc for me. Her gentle touch and careful phrasing bring the woods to life as well as any conductor I've heard.

The album concludes with three pieces from Gotterdammerung: "Siegfried's Rhine Journey," arranged by E. Humperdinck; "Siegfried's Death and Funeral Music," arranged by L. Stastny); and "Brunnhilde's Immolation Scene." Solemn, beguiling, spiritual, and majestic by turns, this is music to inspire, with Ms. Falletta carrying out Wagner's intentions with consummate skill. It's beautifully, excitingly, imaginatively realized.

Of course, there are any number of good recordings of Wagner's orchestral music from The Ring. I especially like Georg Solti and the Vienna Philharmonic (Decca), Leopold Stokowski and various orchestras (RCA, HDTT), Erich Leinsdorf and the Los Angeles Philharmonic (Sheffield Lab), Otto Klemperer and the Philharmonia Orchestra (EMI-Warner Classics), and Antal Dorati and the National Symphony Orchestra (Decca), among others. JoAnn Falletta and the Buffalo Philharmonic can hold their head high in this august company.

Producer and engineer Tim Handley recorded the album at Kleinhans Music Hall, Buffalo, New York in May 2017. The sound is a little better than usual for Naxos--clearer, sharper in its details, and better imaged. Typically, the Naxos sound can be rather ordinary, even soft and fuzzy sometimes. Here, it is well defined and moderately dynamic. It is maybe a bit too bright and sometimes slightly harsh in the lower midrange; fortunately, however, such moments are infrequent. It's also a tad narrower across the sound stage than I would have expected, but it compensates with a good depth of field. Overall, the recording serves the music reasonably well.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below: