Shostakovich: Piano Concertos Nos. 1 & 2 (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Yuja Wang, pianist; Andris Nelsons, conductor; Boston Symphony Orchestra. Deutsche Grammophon 486 6956

When last I reviewed Yuja Wang here, it was essentially to bemoan a mismatch between the works she had chosen to perform (Rachmaninoff’s piano-orchestral music) and her own temperament. Happily, this latest release of Shostakovich piano concertos and selected preludes/fugues steers her back to more predispositional pastures. Shostakovich is a much better fit for the kind of artistry she represents, where the jaunty, grotesque, and cinematic all play out in an inimitable and highly accessible mixture. Yes, this is a good pairing. But even here I can only offer one-and-a-half thumbs up and confess that not even ideal repertoire overcomes some nagging misgivings.

 

While the concerto performances offer plenty of needed excitement, I’m left with a slight sense of inconsistency. This manifests in multiple ways. First, there are a few balance problems. Sometimes it’s the orchestra slightly obscuring the piano where both are heard, as at Rehearsal 20 in the opening movement of Op. 35. We need to hear those pianistic arpeggios just a bit more clearly. But sometimes it’s the other way around, as when Wang’s blaring octaves overpower almost all else in the opening movement of Op. 102. More seriously, important melodic lines are at times underplayed, as with moments during the subordinate theme in the same stretch. Indicated soft dynamics shouldn’t be exaggerated here. Moreover, Wang occasionally over-pedals. She gets away with this more in the slower movements, where the consequences of doing so are blunted. But in the quicker spans her sound can dip into sogginess. And speaking of sound, Andris Nelsons and the Boston Symphony Orchestra aren’t entirely off the hook either. Some of the louder orchestral tuttis come off as coarse.

 

Second, I’m not always convinced by Wang’s expressive liberties. I realize that previously I criticized her “Sonic the Hedgehog” pianism as lacking in depth. I wonder if someone she trusts told her as much. Because here she clearly tries to incorporate rubato in solo/cadenza passages, but with mixed success. It’s a bit like someone being coached on humor who doesn’t naturally understand humor: when the jokes issue forth, they get mis-delivered. Some good examples come in quick succession during Op. 35’s finale. The solo passage at Rehearsal 60 features “oom-pah” textures that get obscured with too much tempo fluctuation at the onset; likewise, rubato saps desired momentum at Rehearsal 63. At the Allegro con brio right before the end we get a sudden burst of energy. This can be good, but here it’s just a little too protuberant.

 

For me the most successful performances on this recording are actually the small helping of preludes and fugues from Shostakovich’s Op. 34 and 87 cycles for solo piano. Here Wang is highly effective, bringing to life the various textures and moods in each of her chosen pieces. I’d definitely be interested in hearing her do the complete sets on recording. But for the concerti, my top choices easily remain Bronfman, Salonen and the LA Philharmonic on Sony (60667), and especially Hamelin, Litton, and the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra on Hyperion (CDA67425). Wang and Company rate a couple of notches below these more polished options.

Piano Potpourri No. 12 (CD/Streaming Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Ravel: The Complete Solo Piano Works and Concertos. (CD1) Sérénade grotesque, M. 5; Menuet antique, M. 7; Pavane pour une infante défunte, M. 19; Jeux d'eau, M. 30; Sonatine, M. 40; Miroirs M. 43; (CD2) Gaspard de la nuit, M. 55; Menuet sur le nom d'Haydn, M. 58; Valses nobles et sentimentales, M. 61; Prélude, M. 65; À la manière de Borodine, M. 63/1; À la manière de Chabrier, M. 63/2; Le tombeau de Couperin, M. 68; (CD3) Piano Concerto for the Left Hand, M. 82; Piano Concerto in G Major, M. 83. Seong-Jin Cho, piano; Boston Symphony Orchestra; Andris Nelsons, conductor. Deutsche Grammophon Limited Edition 3 CD 486 6824

 

Earlier this year, we reviewed a Deutsche Grammophon recording of Maurice Ravel’s complete music for solo piano by the young Korean pianist Seong-Jin Cho (b. 1994), a review that you can read here. Following the release of that album, DG released his recording of the two Ravel piano concertos with the Boston Symphony Orchestra conducted by Andris Nelsons. As many music lovers are no doubt aware, 2025 marks 150 years since Ravel’s birth; in May, DG released this deluxe album -- that combines those previous albums as part of this limited-edition 3-CD set. The album cover looks like it should hold LPs rather than CDs (when my copy arrived, my first thought was that I had been sent a vinyl version by mistake). That large, sturdy package comprises (in addition to the three CDs themselves) a hardcover book with full track listings and notes on the music; numerous photos of the artist; and the offer of three months’ free access to STAGE+, DG’s online video repository of concert performances and audio albums. Because we have already reviewed the solo piano music (link above), we’ll confine our comments to the concerto disc, which, given the talent shown by Cho in the solo piano music combined with the undeniable excellence of the BSO, is a worthy release indeed. Cho brings something of a light touch to Ravel’s music, which may well be why the album’s producers thought to devote a page devoted to this quote from Ravel: “The music of a concerto should, in my opinion, be lighthearted and brilliant, and not aim at profundity or at dramatic effects.”  Delightful music in an impressive package – it’s a limited edition (only 4000 to be produced), and of course the solo piano music and concerto releases are also available – these are all recommendable as appropriate.

 

Arc III. Louise Talma: Alleluia in Form of Toccata; Schubert: Fantasie in C major, Op. 15, D. 760“Wandererfantasie”; Debussy: L’Isle Joyeuse, L. 106; Dohnányi: Pastorale on a Hungarian Christmas Song; Brahms: Piano Sonata No. 3 in F minor, Op. 5; Ligeti: Études, Book 1: No. 5 Arc-en-ciel. Orion Weiss, piano. First Hand Records FHR129

 

Back in 2014, Ohio-born pianist Orion Weiss (b. 1981) embarked on a recording project that eventually yielded three releases, Arc I (our review of which you can read here) being the first. In the liner note essay of the first release of his projected trilogy, Weiss explained that “the arc of this recital trilogy is inverted, like a rainbow’s reflection in water. Arc I’s first steps head downhill, beginning from hope and proceeding to despair. The bottom of the journey, Arc II, [you can find our review of Arc II here] is Earth’s center, grief, loss, the lowest we can reach. The return trip, Arc III, is one of excitement and renewal, filled with the joy of rebirth and anticipation of a better future.” Weiss recorded Arc III in 2022 as the world was beginning to emerge from the COVID-19 shutdown and he found that to him, “everything seemed utterly transformed, almost unrecognizable. My perception of humanity had undergone a fundamental change… The music was another world, another set of ideas, able to lift me above my own, to teach me and guide me.” The generally uplifting spirit of the album is established at the outset with the exuberant Alleluia in Form of Toccata by the American composer Louise Talma (1906-1996), a piece that seems to be bursting at the seams with exuberance. Following this unfamiliar beginning, Weiss then brings us back into the realm of the familiar, with music from Schubert and Debussy, before once again bringing us something less familiar, Erno Dohnányi’s Pastorale on a Hungarian Christmas Song. This piece sounds more like a dreamlike dance fantasy than an ode to Yule logs or Christmas trees; but it has a wistful, hopeful charm that makes it quite appealing. Weiss then brings us the major work on his program, Brahms’s Piano Sonata No. 3, an imposing work in no fewer than five movements that total more than 35 minutes. Brahms composed this sonata at the age of 20, eager to display his talents as both composer and pianist, and Weiss channels the exuberance and youthful spirit of the young Brahms before closing his program in a more reflective vein with the colorful but enigmatic Ligeti Étude.

And thus we come to the end of Weiss’s Arc series of recordings. As the pianist himself summarizes it: “The music recorded on Arc I (FHR127) expresses foreboding from the brink of disaster. The music on Arc II (FHR128) was written by composers dealing with tragedy. At last, Arc III is a set of pieces born from the bright points of life. Peace, hope, love, ambition, optimism and the divine – the inspirations are myriad. These compositions spring from the million shades of happiness.” Arc III certainly is a delightful conclusion to the trilogy – well worth an audition, as are its two predecessors.

 

The Art of Memory. Bach: The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II; Lasser: 12 Preludes for Solo Piano "The Art of Memory". Anton Mejias, piano. Deutsche Grammophon (digital-only release)

 

The Finnish-Cuba pianist Anton Mejias (b. 2001) was fascinated by the music of Bach from a very young age. He made his recital debut at the age of eight, and by ten, he had already learned the entire Well- Tempered Clavier, Book I. Since then he has added the complete French and English Suites, all six Partitas, and the Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II, to his repertoire. The title of this new release has a dual reference: the recording captures a concert performance that in which Mejias played these works by Bach and Lasser from memory – no mean feat, to be sure – and the subtitle of Lasser’s work, “The Art of Memory.” Rather than present the Bach and Lasser compositions separately, Mejias has chosen to weave them together: four tracks of Bach, a track of Lasser – repeated in this way through all 48 preludes and fugues of The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II and all 12 Preludes for Solo Piano "The Art of Memory."

Philip Lasser (b. 1961) is an American composer and pianist who is currently on the faculty at Julliard. Of his “The Art of Memory” he writes, “I began my Twelve Preludes many years ago with the idea of creating a set of works wherein as we went from one to the next, each prelude would collect remembrances of the past preludes until, at last, we reach the twelfth, which would be entirely made up of memories. . . I began to realize that this was a metaphor for human memory. With each new day, we become richer with new events, emotions, apperceptions; and yet, we receive the new only through the filter of our own personal experience which is then nothing more than a sum of our past remembrances. . . I am deeply honored that Anton Mejias has taken the bold move to perform and record my Preludes inside Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier and I hope that my work nests quietly in Bach's great work and offers yet another rhythm to the mastery of his unfolding of time.” Lasser’s brief, subtly ambiguous-sounding Preludes offer a subtle contrast to Bach’s more resolute music; woven together, the net effect is entrancing. At more than two hours in length, this is hardly an album suitable for a quick listen; to be sure, many listeners will use it as background music – not that there’s anything wrong with that. It will also reward serious listening for those who have the time and the inclination. It’s a remarkable recording.

Sumera: Symphonies Nos. 1 and 6 (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Olari Elts, conductor; Estonian National Symphony Orchestra. Ondine ODE 1449-2

Whether or not you agree with me about Lepo Sumera’s First and Sixth Symphonies will largely depend upon whether or not you share my tastes. Many seasoned listeners do not. But I guess this is as good a place as any to confess that I write mostly for “bourgeois” readers who may find their leanings otherwise under-represented in classical music criticism. At this point in my career I’m happy to stand up for the both of us. And with this music in particular, which many won’t have known beforehand, I aim above all to advise whether it’s worth the average listener’s time. So, is it? The short answer: yes, absolutely.

As Kerri Kotta’s liner notes explain, Sumera was one of those Soviet bloc composers who came of age during the post-Stalin “thaw” and turned their backs on the avant-gardism they had initially embraced. This is not to say his music was never again challenging after that shift. But there’s a relatable emotional core in the best of it that can draw in even an esotericism-eschewing listener, given an open enough mind. Straightaway, I must relay that the Sixth Symphony of 2000 (completed soon before the composer’s untimely death) is the tougher nut to crack. It led me to the edge of my good will. But follow it to this point I did, and I recommend that my fellow bourgeois listeners do the same. The themes are unconventional, but not too difficult to follow. The harmonies are resolutely modern, but not offputtingly so. True, this is a work I respect more than fully like. But it’s the kind of composition that stretched me without alienating me. I invite you all to give this a serious listen and see what you think. I hope you’ll love it.

But when it comes to the First Symphony of 1981, I speak in frank terms of love. In fact, I’m going to call it a new favorite symphony. Moreover, I see in it a confluence of positive symphonic and at-large twentieth-century compositional trends. There is a clear debt to the repetitive structures of minimalism. Long portions are restatements of simple ideas. And yet, as with the best minimalist composers (Glass and Adams come to mind), Sumera has a gift for using alluring ideas in ways that entrance rather than bore the listener. I also hear a bit of the accruing processes of the first movement of Nielsen’s Fifth Symphony, or the still-too-unknown Wood Nymph tone poem of Sibelius. As in these wonderful works, Sumera uses variation and resourceful instrumentation techniques to create the sense of long builds and shifts. This may not sound like much, but I was absolutely transfixed during my first time through. Then, like in so much truly great music, there’s an overt nod to the popular element in the second and final movement. In a manner reminiscent of Shostakovich, Mahler, and even Malcolm Arnold, there’s a “circus” theme (to use Kotta’s term) that bursts onto the scene with raucous glory. This stretch is one of the most thrilling symphonic passages I have ever heard, and I’m sure (or at least I hope) that everyone from the most educated to the greenest classical music listener would agree. I know I say it often for other stuff, but I really mean it this time: I want badly to hear Sumera’s Symphony No. 1 live.

For a while the only commercial recordings of these works appear to have been those by Paavo Järvi and the Malmӧ Symphony Orchestra (BIS CD-660), and by Järvi and this self-same Estonian National Symphony Orchestra (BIS CD-1360). While those remain fine options, I think I prefer the present release with Olari Elts heading the ENSO. The sound seems somehow brighter, and this well serves the all important timbral element in Sumera’s music. But really, you can’t go wrong with either. For those always on the lookout for compelling yet accessible late 20th-century music, I recommend getting to know these symphonies (and especially the First) at the earliest opportunity.

Remembering Brian Wilson (1942-2025)

by Karl Nehring

The musical world lost a great one with the passing of Brian Wilson (b. 1942). One of the sad things about growing old is seeing people you have known and admired for most of your life come to the end of theirs. Music has forever been an important part of my life, and as I grow older (approaching 76), I have seen many of my musical heroes pass on. Some of the deaths that hit me especially hard were those of Miles Davis, Wayne Shorter, Leonard Cohen, Phil Lesh – I could go on, but those are the names of some musicians who brought great joy into my life; their deaths brought great sorrow. But as I have said before, thank goodness we have recordings so that their music can live on.

 

Just when I was starting to get over the passing of Sylvester “Sly” Stone, whose music was able to stimulate my body to dance in the ‘60s and calm my military mind in the ‘70s, I saw the news of Brian’s demise, which I immediately passed along to some of my close friends who I knew were also admirers of the man and his music. I soon received replies expressing shock, grief, and heartbreak. Several friends mentioned Pet Sounds, the Beach Boys album that was Wilson’s brainchild – by nearly universal acclamation one of the greatest rock albums ever released. Others mentioned “God Only Knows,” a song that many consider one of the finest rock – if not popular, period – songs ever recorded. 

 

We once reviewed an album by Wilson on which he did not sing, but rather just played the piano. You can read that review here. Wilson’s playing is far from virtuoso, as he was the first admit, but it is heartfelt. As a composer, arranger, and producer, he sometimes went in for grandiose ideas that frustrated his fellow Beach Boys and led to bitter divisions in the band – and ultimately to his own prolonged battles with depression, advisors, and mental health issues that for many years kept him away from the business of making music. But he eventually made his way back and enjoyed a successful musical and personal renaissance, remaking some of his earlier projects and embarking on successful touring shows. He played his last concert in 2022. Sadly, in 2024, his family announced that he was suffering from dementia.

Although his drive to explore new sounds and complex harmonies are what made him famous, it is the simple, vulnerable, extremely personal music that makes Brian Wilson so memorable. Two of his songs in particular will forever live in my heart: “Love and Mercy” and “I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times.” Try to imagine these words being sung in his plaintive, vulnerable voice:

 

I was lying in my room
And the news came on TV
A lotta people out there hurtin'
And it really scares me

Love and mercy, that's what you need tonight
So, love and mercy to you and your friends tonight

 

Or these:

 

I think I got somethin' good goin' for myself
But what goes wrong

Sometimes I feel very sad
Sometimes I feel very sad 
Sometimes I feel very sad 

I guess I just wasn't made for these times

 

It may well indeed be true that Brian Wilson just wasn’t made for these times; however, his music, at least for many of us of a certain age and disposition, makes these times better. Thank you, Brian, and may you rest in peace.

Rendezvous: Jazz Meet Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, & More (Streaming Review)

by Karl Nehring

Beethoven: Symphony No. 5 / Piano Sonata “Moonlight”;Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker - Dance of the Reed Flutes; Beethoven: Sonata No. 8 “Pathétique” 2nd Movement; Tchaikovsky: Swan Lake; Prokofiev: Romeo and Juliet - Dance of the Knights; Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition - The Old Castle; Prokofiev: Piano Concerto #2; Ravel: Pavane Pour Une Infante Defunte. Jo-Yu Chen, piano; Chris Tordini, bass; Tommy Crane, drums. Sony Music Taiwan: Digital, G010005486913X; Vinyl, 19802883371 (available on Spotify and Bandcamp). The album is available to stream on Apple Music as lossless 16-bit/44.1 kHz. Also available on Qobuz for streaming and download purchase at the same resolution. (Not available on CD.)

As a young child in Taiwan, Jo-Yu Chen began piano lessons at the age of five and added oboe lessons at the age of nine. At the age of 16, she moved from her native Taiwan to the United States to train at Juilliard on both piano and oboe. Her background was in classical music, but she soon but was developed a passion for jazz and began studying jazz piano under the tutelage of jazz keyboard master Sam Yahel. She also completed a Ph.D. in Music Education from Columbia University. Her musical talents were recognized and she was signed by Sony, for whom with her bandmates listed above plus some guest jazz luminaries featured on some tracks she released her first four albums: Obsession (with drummer Tyshawn Sorey, 2011), Incomplete Soul (2012), Stranger (with guitarist Kurt Rosenwinkel, 2014) and Savage Beauty (with saxophonist Mark Turner, 2019), all of which featured her own compositions. In 2024 she returned to her love for the classical canon with an EP titled Schubert & Mozart: 'Round Midnight, which featured her trio playing her jazz takes on themes from selections by those Viennese masters. It’s quite a different approach than you might expect; not just a “jazzy gloss” on classical melodies, but an exuberant 21 minutes of jazz based on a serious reimagining of those melodies. Think Schubert meets Brubeck – but that’s just a starting point. And really, truly, what she and her bandmates create on that EP sounds totally original; again, not just a jazzy gloss on classical melodies, but music that sounds delightfully fresh and original.

 

About her new album, Chen observes, “this recording project started somewhat by accident. I've always been hesitant about making a cross-genre album unless it felt truly special. Coming from a classical background, I approach reinterpreting classical works more cautiously than composing my own. The classical world guards its history and masterpieces fiercely, and that pressure feels heavier than creating something new. So I thought, if I'm going to do this, it has to have depth, beauty, and lasting power. When I first started on this album, I was constantly drawn to Beethoven-his music, creativity, and rebellious spirit. He wasn't just a composer; he was a trailblazer, a rock star of his time who transcended his era, bridging the Classical and Romantic periods with boldness and vision. Beethoven's pioneering spirit of innovation and his strong sense of aesthetics are precisely what I want to channel into the next chapter of my musical journey. Looking back, this album is my response to my previous EP, Schubert and Mozart.

I’ll have to admit that what I expected to hear when I auditioned this album for the first time was simply a jazz gloss on familiar themes. I was more than pleasantly surprised to find out how wrong I was when I discovered from the very first measures of the opening track, Symphony No. 5 / Piano Sonata “Moonlight,” that Chen, Tordini, and Crane were not glossing; rather, they were taking musical ideas from Beethoven (and Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, and others) and reshaping them into entertaining, bracing jazz cuts. Furthermore, the trio plays as a trio, with all three members making solid contributions – it’s not just Chen’s piano in the lead with bass and drums keeping time.

 

This truly is a release that should prove rewarding to jazz and classical fans alike. My only reservation is its relatively short duration, just under 39 minutes, which I suppose makes sense when you think of it as a vinyl LP release, which is apparently how Sony Music Taiwan views it. What I would love to see happen would be for Sony to combine Rendezvous with Chen’s previous Schubert & Mozart EP into one hour-long release that they could then market not only as a digital release (download and streaming) but also as a CD. In any event, I highly recommend that both jazz and classical music lovers would do well to arrange a Rendezvous.

Weinberg: Complete Music for Cello and Orchestra (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Nikolay Shugaev, cellist; Yuri Medianik, conductor; Tyumen Philharmonic Orchestra. Naxos 8.574679

Now this is what I’m talking about! When Mieczysław Weinberg was at his best, as with each of the three works on this recording, his music is a pleasure to listen to. It’s not that he was the most original composer who ever lived, and certainly not one of the greatest. Yes, yes: Shostakovich haunts these proceedings to varying degrees. But never mind all of that; Weinberg had enough moxie of his own to provide a thoroughly satisfying, even memorable listening experience when he wanted to. Usually this happened more toward the beginning of his career, before he adopted an austere style poorly suited to his gifts. As I suggested in my last Weinberg CD review, when he was direct, the results could be wonderful. And here we have three slices of wonderful directness.

 

At first glance this disc would seem to be something of a rip-off. The Concertino for Cello and String Orchestra is actually an early version of the bigger Concerto for Cello and Orchestra. But these two works, while clearly sharing much material, are yet different enough from one another that they can be considered separate compositions. In fact, I find listening to and comparing them to be an enjoyable venture. To be honest I very much like both and am not sure I actually prefer the more developed concerto. It’s almost twice as long, due to more “worked out” passages that share ideas with its predecessor mostly across roughly the first three movements of each. But the concertino (note its ensemble scoring for strings rather than full orchestra), while a slighter score, is also somehow cozier and more intimate. I think it’s that the concerto adds almost an entire whole movement’s worth of material toward the end that wasn’t there before. This finale, while ending on a calmer profile (as in the concertino), begins with what is essentially another quick section after the scherzo-like material in each version. While I find the added section’s themes compelling, it might be a little too much of a good thing after the preceding bars – gilding the lily, as it were. But then again maybe not. I’ve heard enough tedious Weinberg not to be too ungrateful when he’s consistently good across a single work, not to mention two iterations of the same one. They are enjoyable all the way through, and full of wit and affecting beauty.

The remaining piece is the Fantasia for Cello and Orchestra, completed in 1953. Cast in one movement, it clocks in at just under the length of the concertino. And it is very nearly as eventful. Things start off with one of Weinberg’s signature slow, moody themes that’s just a bit quirky. Before it wears out it's welcome we come to a jaunty, rondo-like section that is great fun and also oddly touching. There’s a cadenza toward the end, near where the first theme returns. The latter then appears in tandem with a new theme in a coda-like passage. Like the other works here, the Fantasia ends quietly. I had not heard it before listening to this recording, and was unexpectedly captivated all the way through.

 

Yuri Medianik, Nikolay Shugaev, and the Tyumen Philharmonic make a great case for this repertoire. Their playing is sharp and energetic, even in the calmer stretches. This is music of emotional intensity, and everyone rises to the occasion admirably. The recording’s sound also deserves mention: everything is especially crisp and clear. I doubt whether Weinberg’s cello-and-orchestra music needed this level of excellence merely in order to make a positive impression, but it certainly doesn’t hurt. If you’re new to the composer and want somewhere to start, here is a very good place.