Recent Releases No. 79 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

B.A.C.H. Martin Fröst. J.S. Bach: Goldberg Variations, BWV 988: Aria (Arr. for Clarinet and Bass by Martin Fröst and Sebastien Dubé); Sinfonia in G Major, BWV 796 (Arr. for Clarinet and Cello by Matthias Spindler); Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, BWV 639 (Arr. for Clarinet and Theorbo by Martin Fröst and Jonas Nordberg); St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244: No. 62. "Wenn ich einmal soll scheiden" (Arr. for Clarinets and Cello by Martin Fröst); Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D Major, BWV 1068: II. Air (Arr. for Clarinet, Theorbo and Bass by Martin Fröst, Jonas Nordberg and Sebastien Dubé); Invention No.10 in G Major, BWV 781 (Arr. for Clarinet and Viola by Göran Fröst); French Suite No.5 in G Major, BWV 816: III. Sarabande (Arr. for Clarinet and Theorbo by Martin Fröst and Jonas Nordberg); Sonata for Viola da Gamba in D Major, BWV 1028: I. Adagio (Arr. for Clarinet, Cello, and Bass by Martin Fröst, Anastasia Kobekina and Sebastien Dubé); Pastorale in F Major, BWV 590: III. Aria (Arr. for Clarinet and Theorbo by Martin Fröst and Jonas Nordberg); Invention No.4 in D Minor, BWV 775 (Arr. for Clarinet and Cello by Matthias Spindler); French Suite No.5 in G Major, BWV 816: I. Allemande (Arr. for Clarinet and Theorbo by Martin Fröst and Jonas Nordberg); Prelude in D Minor, BWV 851 (Arr. for Clarinet and Bass by Martin Fröst and Sebastien Dubé); Gounod: Ave Maria (Meditation on the Prelude by J. S. Bach) [Arr. for Clarinet and Cello by Martin Fröst]; Bach: Herr Jesu Christ, meins Lebens Licht, BWV 335 (Arr. for Clarinet and Theorbo by Martin Fröst and Jonas Nordberg); Invention No. 6 in E Major, BWV 777 (Arr. for Clarinet and Viola by Göran Fröst); Prelude in C-Sharp Major, BWV 872 (Arr. for Clarinet, Theorbo and Bass by Martin Fröst, Jonas Nordberg and Sebastien Dubé); Largo (after Piano Concerto No. 5 in F Minor, BWV 1056) [Arr. for Clarinet and Piano by Martin Fröst and Benny Andersson]. Martin Fröst, Clarinet; Jonas Nordberg, theorbo; Anastasia Kobekina, cello; Sébastian Dubé, double bass; Göran Fröst, viola; Benny Andersson, piano. Sony Classical 19802814742

 

As Ry Cooder almost once sang, oooohhh, I’m a fool for a clarinet. Back in the day, one of my musical heroes was fellow Ohio State grad Richard Stoltzman (double major: music and mathematics), a true master of the instrument who made remarkable recordings in a variety of genres. Today, Swedish clarinetist Martin Fröst is making a name for himself as a master of the instrument, and like Stoltzman, Fröst is willing to explore innovative ways to showcase his musical abilities. Back in 2022, we reviewed an album by Fröst in which he explored music from a diverse group of composers ranging over such figures as Bach, Scarlatti, Purcell, Rameau, Richard Rogers, Gordon Jenkins, and Chick Corea (you can read that review here).  In past concert performances, Fröst sometimes devised programs titled "Beyond All Clarinet History" (B.A.C.H.), which intertwined some Bach’s melodies with new arrangements; what we have here is an entire album – appropriately titled “B.A.C.H.” – entirely devoted to the music of Bach, but presented in new interpretations both for clarinet and a variety of other instruments, such as bass, cello, and theorbo (for those unfamiliar with that instrument, imagine a lute on steroids), and on the final track, a piano – played by Benny Andersson of the world-famous pop group ABBA. Although Bach never wrote for the clarinet, nothing here sounds forced or gimmicky. Recorded in an old wooden chapel set in the Swedish countryside that Fröst purchased, restored, and turned into a studio and concert venue, the album has a warm, intimate sonic quality that is well-suited to Bach’s music. You don’t need to be a fool for a clarinet to enjoy this album, but you might become one after giving it a listen. This is a recording that should appeal to a wide variety of musical tastes.

Brahms, Balkans & Bagels. Paquin-Bugi: Mahler Goes Meshuge; Traditional: Kolomeyka; Paquin-Buki and Paquin / Brahms: Élégie des vieux amants; Saint-Saëns: Balkanale; Svigals: Glazier's Hora;  Traditional: Beresh Katz Bulgar; Liszt: Rhapsodie hongroise no 2; Pigeon: Trumpet Doina, wie aus der ferne; Traditional: Der yidisher soldat in di trenches (WWI); Traditional: Reel de Béatrice; Kodály: Kállai kettõs; I. Weber: Wiegala. Oktopus (Matthieu Bourget, bass trombone; Guillaume Martineau, piano; Gabriel Paquin-Buki, clarinet; Maxime Philippe, drums and percussion; Francis Pigeon, trumpet; Julie Blanchet, flute; Noémie Caron-Marcotte, flute; Laetitia Francoz-Lévesque; Simon Jolicoeur, trombone; Kalun Leung, trombone; Julie Rivest, violin) with guest musicians Éric Breton, percussion; Catherine Chabot, flute; Corine Chartré-Lefebvre, horn; Pascal Demalsy, accordion; Janna Kate, vocals; Charles-André Labelle-Giroux, tuba; Emie Rioux-Roussel, piano; Rosanne Philippens, violin.

 

This delightful album should bring many a smile to those listeners with a deep affection for classical music; it may even have some of them leaping from their listening positions and whirling about the room in half-crazed dances of delight; I foresee broken furniture – but pray for no broken bones.  In Brahms, Balkans & Bagels, the Canadian octet Oktopus digs into the question of how popular music may have inspired great composers. The opening track is a perfect example, highlighting the influence of klezmer music on Gustav Mahler. Mahler fans will certainly be able to recognize the themes and enjoy the energetic interweaving of Mahler and madcap. Another highlight is their arrangement of Franz Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, which highlights above all the impressive talent of pianist Guillaume Martineau, who improvises a virtuosic cadenza before the group ends the piece with a klezmeresque flourish. It’s an album full of delights and surprises; moreover, what is especially rewarding is that the overall tone is one of joy and respect for classical music – the musicians of Oktopus are not mocking the music of the great composers, they are reveling in it and inviting you to join them in their revels. My goodness, this is a fun release!

Fred Hersch: The Surrounding Green. Hersch: Plainsong; Ornette Coleman: Law Years; Hersch: The Surrounding Green; Egberto Gismonti: Palhaço; George and Ira Gershwin: Embraceable You; Charlie Haden: First Song; Hersch: Anticipation. Fred Hersch, piano; Drew Gress, double bass; Joey Baron, drums. ECM 2826

 

Here we have the most recent release from the veteran American jazz pianist Fred Hersch (b. 1955). Hersch’s story is an inspiring one, for he has come back from the brink of death to regain his ability to play the piano and resume his life and career, as you can you can learn more  about from the pianist himself in from this compelling YouTube video  We have previously reviewed a couple of albums by Hersch, beginning with an album that Hersch recorded in his home during the dark early days of the COVID-19 pandemic. That album was recorded on a less than ideal piano in a less than ideal (at least in terms of recording acoustics) room; however, Hersch’s talent and love for the music made his 2021 release Songs from Home (Palmetto PM2197) a winning collection of tunes that is well worth a listen (you can find our review here). Then in 2024 and we reviewed a his Silent, Listening release on the ECM label, this one recorded under much different and more advantageous circumstances, playing a beautifully tuned piano in an acoustically perfect European hall under the watchful eyes and ears of a world-class producer and engineer (you can find that review here). And a decade before we ever reviewed an album recorded by Fred Hersch himself, our founding father John Puccio reviewed an album recorded by the classical pianist Lara Downes titled 13 Ways of Looking at the Goldberg: Bach Reimagined, in which she had invited various composers to provide their own modern variations on Bach’s original theme. One of those variations that Ms. Downes performs is music that John describes as a “lyrically flowing version by Fred Hersch” (you can read John's review here). 

 Fred Hersch, Drew Gress, Joey Baron

This new ECM release finds Hersch in a trio setting, but “lyrically flowing” remains an apt description of his playing throughout, sympathetically supported by bassist Gress and drummer Baron, themselves like Hersch veterans of the NYC jazz scene; however, prior to this recording, these three musicians had never recorded together as a trio. You’ never guess that from listening, though, as the music just seems to flow so naturally, so beautifully, so lyrically. That doesn’t mean “easy listening,” however; the inclusion of an Ornette Coleman tune, Law Years, should provide a clue that all is not simple tunefulness. But even here, there is nothing to assault the senses; rather, it’s more a feeling of contrast and coloration. After all, Ornette was nothing if not lyrical. Perhaps not traditionally so, but my goodness, his music bursts forth with tuneful joy, and these three musicians understand that. Hersch’s title track, The Surrounding Green, which follows, is another exemplar of lyrically flowing music that cannot but help induce aesthetic satisfaction. Recorded in ECM’s typical warm, spacious sound quality and featuring especially appealing cover art (although, sadly but not surprisingly, no liner notes), this is an easily recommendable release of tasteful, thoughtful, rewarding jazz.

Chamber Works by Ernest Kanitz (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Kanitz: Sonata, Op. 10 for Violin and Piano*; String Quartet in D major; Sonata for Solo Cello; Concertino for Five Players**; Sonata Californiana for E flat Alto Saxophone and Piano. ARC Ensemble (Erika Raum, violin; Marie Bérard, violin**; Steven Dann, viola; Thomas Wiebe, cello; Joaquin Valdepeñas, clarinet; Kevin Ahfat, piano; with special guests Wallace Halladay, saxophone; Anna Stube, violin*; Joel Quarrington, double-bass). CHANDOS CHAN 20374

 

Over the past several years we have reviewed several releases by Canada’s ARC (Artists of the Royal Conservatory) Ensemble, an assemblage of musicians engaged in a series of recordings for the CHANDOS label under the heading “Music in Exile,” starting with our review (which you can read here) of the first commercial recording devoted to music by the Czech-born Jewish composer Walter Kaufmann (1907-1984). Other composers who were exiled by the Nazi regime but whose music has been brought out from the depths of obscurity by the ARC Ensemble’s noble efforts have included the Jewish-Ukrainian composer Dmitri Klebanov (1907-1987) (reviewed here); Alberto Hemsi (1898-1975), who was born in the Ottoman Empire in an area that is now part of Turkey (reviewed here); and the German-Jewish composer Robert Müller-Hartmann (1894-1979, who fled to England to work with the great British composer Ralph Vaughan Williams (reviewed here).

This newest release, the ninth in the Music in Exile series, features music by the Jewish Austrian-born composer Ernest Kanitz (1894-1978). His story is an interesting one. He had enjoyed early success in his career and had in fact become a prominent musician in Vienna during the 1920s and ‘30s, with frequent concerts and radio broadcasts. However, after the Nazi takeover of Austria in 1938, Kanitz eventually made his way to the United States, where he was able to continue his musical career by teaching and composing, but with death, his modest musical reputation quickly faded away and his music disappeared from the concert stage. Now the ARC Ensemble and CHANDOS are offering the musical world a chance to hear the music of Ernest Kanitz, which based on this release, is well worth hearing. 

The ARC Ensemble

The opening Sonata for Violin and Piano is a melodic marvel, three movements that are a delight from start to finish. So often, listening to sonatas by unknown 20^th-century composers can be a nearly unbearable experience; however, this was just the opposite. His String Quartet, although more serious in tone than the sonata that preceded it, particularly the opening movement, is still quite listenable and enjoyable. The relatively brief Sonata for Solo Cello provides a wide range of stylistic effects over its 10-minute duration, ranging from throwback to modernistic. It is one of those pieces that would benefit from being able to see the performer actually play in live performance to gain full appreciation of their performance; however, it is still an involving performance when only heard and not seen. The Concertino for Five Players, which is scored for clarinet, violin, viola, double bass, and piano, is a jaunty, slightly spiky three-movement work that is the most formal, modern-sounding composition on the program. However, it is also emotionally engaging in its own way, with many tender passages that speak to the heart. The quirkily named Sonata Californiana closes the program with three movements of expressive music that appeal to both heart and mind. The second movement, “Lament,” is a slow movement of utter beauty, followed then by the closer, “Hollywood,” a bustling romp.

Having listened to this recording many times, I find myself hoping to hear more music by Ernest Kanitz in the future. He composed orchestral music – let’s have it! And surely there is more chamber music. For now, however, we have this fine release, and once again, we music lovers owe a debt of gratitude to the ARC Ensemble and CHANDOS for bringing to light music that would have otherwise languished in darkness. 

Domenico Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonatas (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Domenico Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonatas (selection); Kurtág: Selections from Játékok. András Schiff, pianist. Lucerne Festival Historic Performances. Audite 97.838

These recorded live performances date from 1998 and 1999, when András Schiff was still in his prime and before he was beguiled by that dubious distraction of modern pianists: the period instrument. (If I never again hear a new recording of Beethoven or Schubert on the fortepiano, it will be too soon!) What it amounts to are a group of Scarlatti performances we didn’t know we needed but should be thrilled to have. Partially excepting a single one that I find slightly misjudged, these are all winners informed by the interpretive richness and precision of Schiff at his distinguished best.

We’ll start with my fly in the ointment: Sonata in D, K. 96, which occupies the very first track. Schiff infuses this with the wonderful colors and accentuation of inner voices that are his custom, but he overshoots with expressive rubato. Perhaps I am too influenced by Vladimir Horowitz’s iconic performance (on Sony SK 53460), but this piece calls more for exhilarating brilliance than it does for expressive probing. Schiff’s dramatic pauses, and extra time taken in the repeated-notes and passage-work sections, dilute that sense of brilliance a bit. For me this music needs consistency and drive for it to come off best. Despite lacking the tonal richness of Schiff’s take, Horowitz outdoes him here.

 

But putting this minor disappointment aside, I will admit that virtually the remainder of the Scarlatti renditions here are going right onto my Spotify favorites playlists. Much of Schiff’s success in these pieces comes down to shrewd repertoire selection. Nearly to a sonata do they play to his strengths mentioned above. While most of Scarlatti’s sonatas bear the stamp of his delightfully quirky musical voice, the ones on this recording plumb special depths. Moreover, most of them are not ones you hear too often. The result almost feels like a release of new repertoire, and certainly one that ought to feature prominently in the Scarlatti discography.

 

Some examples are in order. Schiff’s K. 518 in F replicates his K. 96’s gently halting pace, but the former’s aesthetic complexion is more relaxed and better suits such an approach. Moreover, the sudden shifts to chordal “strumming” (and other passages) allow the performer to accentuate the guitar-like flavor with which Scarlatti is often associated. It all works beautifully. Schiff’s K. 519 in F Minor shows him adopting a steadier motion that I wish his K. 96 had; it cruises along with a restrained breeziness. At least as good are the sonatas where Schiff can showcase his signature thoughtfulness. K. 513 in C and K. 426 in G Minor come readily to mind. Both performances illustrate why I prefer Scarlatti on the piano: their subtleties and deep wells of feeling are only enhanced by the capabilities of the modern instrument. Schiff exploits them to the fullest in these two numbers.

But my two favorite performances here are probably K. 394 in E Minor and K. 395 in E, one pairing among several that Schiff highlights. I often tell my students that Scarlatti’s sonata output is like the ocean: big stretches of it are seldom traversed. These two examples aren’t often chosen for star performer compilations (think the wonderful but ubiquitous K. 380 in E), nor even for the many one-off Scarlatti albums out there. But if you skip them, you’re missing out on unexpected glories. What of that sudden explosion of arpeggios (featuring chromatic-mediant harmonic juxtaposition) to head the second section of K. 394? It’s one of those instances where a simple gesture has more expressive power than it has any right to. In K. 395, the beginning of the second section again proves to be the linchpin for the entire work, with its brief sotto voce passage that prompts the listener to experience the surrounding material in new hues.

 

By way of concluding, I’ll admit to recently making a playlist of all 555 Scarlatti sonatas. The exercise took a long time because I wanted the best performances possible for each selection, and I was forced (if that’s the word) into a ton of listening just to achieve an approximation. The reason I mention this is that the exercise taught me a great deal, including the reality that even after all this time we are still living in the Wild West of Scarlatti recordings. There is a great deal of interpretive territory yet to be staked in repertoire that is endlessly explorable. Anybody who is even casually keeping track should buy this disc right away.

Recent Releases No.78 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Abstractions. Anna Clyne: Within Her Arms; Abstractions – I. Marble Moon II. Auguries III. Seascape IV. River V. Three; Restless Oceans; Color Field – I. Yellow II. Red III. Orange. Baltimore Symphony Orchestra; Marin Alsop, conductor. Naxos 8.574620

 

I first became aware of the London-born composer Anna Clyne (b. 1980) back in 2020 when I came across her name somewhere on social media. I mentioned it to my good friend and fellow Classical Candor contributor Bill Heck, who related with considerable enthusiasm how he had recently enjoyed a concert performance of one of her works by members of the Pro Musica Chamber Orchestra in Columbus, Ohio. The work Bill and his wife had enjoyed that night was Within Her Arms, the piece that opens the program on this new Naxos CD. Not long after that 2020 conversation with Bill, we published our first review of a Clyne composition, which was a five-movement work for cello and orchestra titled Dance, with soloist Inbal Segev and the London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Marin Alsop (you can find that review here). That CD also included the Elgar concerto, but since then, we have published two reviews of CDs featuring music entirely by Clyne, who now resides in the Hudson Valley region of New York. You can read the review of Mythologies here and Shorthand here. Clyne wrote the deeply moving elegy Within Her Arms, which is set for an ensemble of 15 strings, shortly after the death of her mother in 2008. The remaining compositions are scored for full orchestra, showcasing both the rich imagination of the composer and the deft playing of the Baltimore players. Although the music is not particularly tuneful, neither is it overly abstract; rather, it is engaging and entertaining, with many striking effects. It is music that makes you want to listen to it again, and then again, which is the mark of an excellent composer.

 

Sibelius: Symphony No. 6 in D Minor, Op. 104; Symphony No. 7 in C Major, Op. 105; Tapiola, Op. 12. English Symphony Orchestra; Kenneth Woods, conductor. ESO Records ESO2502

 

I believe my first encounter with a recording featuring the conductor Kenneth Woods, originally from Madison, Wisconsin, but currently residing in Wales, was a Nimbus release of symphonic music by a contemporary English composer previously unknown to me, Matthew Taylor (b.1964), a review you can find here. Since then, I have gone on to review other recordings conducted by Maestro Woods, who leads not only the English Symphony Orchestra featured on the present recording but also serves as Musical Director of the world-famous Colorado Mahlerfest; in addition, John Puccio has reviewed numerous recordings led by Maestro Woods in past installments of Classical Candor. On this present Sibelius release, the ESO under Woods acquit themselves admirably. It is hard to think of a more satisfying musical program than that presented here, the final two symphonies by the Finnish master plus his magical tone poem, Tapiola. There is something magical about the way in which the opening notes of the Sixth Symphony blissfully arise from silence; we suddenly find ourselves in a wondrous world of sound and shadow that Woods and the ESO bring to life with a deft touch. The overall sound seems just right for Sibelius – not too heavy, but not too light. The recorded sound is clean and open, and there are informative liner notes by composer and critic Guy Rickards. All in all, this is a highly recommendable release.

Vaughan Williams: Symphony No. 5 in D; Symphony No. 9 in E Minor. (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Antonio Pappano, conductor; London Symphony Orchestra. LSO Live 0900

Ralph Vaughan Williams was such a complex figure that those with narrower outlooks (i.e. most of us) can have difficulty grasping the entirety of the man. It’s too easy to label him a conservative based upon his pastoral works, his interest in religious subjects, his patriotism, and his commitment to accessibility. On the other hand it’s almost equally easy to go too far in the opposite direction and, noting his links to some progressive causes and participation in the First World War, recklessly make him over as a “modernist.” A tradition-loving center-leftist (as I believe he came to be in his maturity) can seem like a cognitive dissonance in these divided times. When we consider his music, and even just the cycle of nine symphonies, we encounter a sheer expressive range to match his complex personality. Reflecting upon recordings of these works so far made, I would have to say that conductors often deftly embrace either his tranquil, visionary polarity or his dramatic, often dissonant opposite. But seldom do we get someone who is great at both. Excellent performances of single works are not uncommon, but I have yet to hear a whole cycle that is completely convincing all the way through.

 

Such were my thoughts as I listened to this recording. Truthfully, I was waiting for a more forceful conductor to give us a break in these symphonies from an overall British tendency toward tepidness. Antonio Pappano granted this wish but also made me see just what the likes of Adrian Boult and Andre Previn did so well. Pappano and the LSO give sharp, exciting accounts of the Fifth and Ninth Symphonies. On one level I would readily recommend them to anyone. But in my heart of hearts, I would still wish for that elusive numinous quality I had almost begun to take for granted. It isn’t even that Pappano does anything particularly “wrong”; he nearly always follows the scores with precision. Maybe sometimes too much precision at the expense of other stuff. Because in the very best interpretations of these two scores (which his aren’t), I can apprehend a little bit of what, in the words of the composer, “lies beyond sense and knowledge.”

I’ll start with the Ninth Symphony. Somewhat paradoxically, I consider this the better performance here and yet also the most difficult to explain in terms of why it holds me just a mite at arm’s length. There is perhaps some slight overplaying of dynamic markings in the first couple of movements (faintly reminiscent of Riccardo Chailly’s Beethoven, I thought), but not enough to matter overmuch. Otherwise, the music-making is a clinic in precision. What’s a bit underdone is a sense of sweep. The tragic middle theme in the second movement is absolutely heart-breaking at its climax. This music was originally intended for an opera treating Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d'Urbervilles. Anyone who has read this novel knows how devastating it is emotionally. I need more of that devastation here. Likewise, in the outer sections of the movement (inspired by the Ghostly Drummer of Salisbury Plain) there could be more quiet menace. Sweep and menace are also somewhat under-supplied in the finale and third movement respectively. To be fair, I don’t know how Pappano is supposed to achieve them, but I know when they are present or not.

 

Pappano and Co. get off to a wonderful start in the Fifth Symphony: the first movement is extremely well conceived. I was excited after hearing it, and eager to see the direction the rest of the performance would take. But, as happens more often than I’d like, the remainder failed to live up to the beginning. The second movement is too rushed and “machine-like;” we lose the mystery of this quietly unsettling section. In the famous Romanza, Pappano overdoes some of the louder dynamics. Even when this movement reaches forte, there needs to be more gestural restraint, or we lose its visionary quality – the Pilgrim’s Progress-style reverence that hangs over the music. The finale repeats some of the problems in its two predecessors: Pappano just needs a calmer touch.

 

These are good performances, especially the Ninth. Pappano and the LSO bring a refreshing energy to the table, which served particularly well in this cycle’s first installment featuring the Fourth and Sixth Symphonies. (That Fourth is among the best available.) But Nos. 5 and 9 pose interpretive challenges that are unkind to a one- or even few-dimensional approach. Viewing this recording as part of the larger catalogue, it’s clear that breadth and depth come at a premium for these works.

Nielsen Orchestral Works (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Helios, Op. 17; Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra, Op. 57; Symphony No. 5, Op. 50. Alessandro 

Carbonare, clarinet; Edward Gardner, conductor; Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra. Chandos CHSA 5314

 

We begin by revisiting one of my Classical Candor reviews from yesteryear. In it, I wrote the following about the first two installments of this Chandos Nielsen cycle:

 

In a recent review of another Nielsen symphony cycle (which you can read here), I pleaded for performers who properly understand this music. I don’t know how the forthcoming recordings in this Chandos series will turn out, but at two discs in I’m comfortable saying that my wish has been granted.

 

If I were a superstitious person I’d say I jinxed the series, because this third entry is a definite step down, thanks mainly to one work. Truthfully, the later Nielsen symphonies were always going to be telling tests. But I guess I let my initial enthusiasm run away with me. While Gardner’s Fifth with the BPO is not quite the pill that Fabio Luisi’s is with the DNSO, Gardner does as too many British conductors do with music of peculiar flavor: he sands down its edges into something genteel. We lose too much of the music’s essential character. And with Nielsen, it’s all about character.

 

Things start out okay in this Fifth. The quieter portions of the opening movement’s early build go well enough, though the mood could be slightly more menacing. But this is hardly the difficult part; it’s what performers do with the denouement that defines everything else. The first let-down arrives with the Adagio theme 268 measures in. This theme, marked molto espressivo, should come as a warm relief; it’s like the force of life in the Fourth Symphony set against chaos and destruction. But Gardner and Company are not very expressive: the tune falls flat. Worse still is the protracted struggle of this theme trying to reassert itself against its adversaries led by the clarinet and snare drum. The tension is often blunted, with the clarinet not being nearly obnoxious enough. When the climax does arrive at Rehearsal 16 (the triumphant return of the Adagio theme), and the subordination of disruptive elements, I am underwhelmed. The pent-up energy should shoot forth like a burst of radiance, but instead Gardner and Company give us a relatively sleepy summit. There’s not enough fire in their bellies.

I have mixed feelings about Gardner’s decisions in the following movement. The opening stretch should crackle with virile energy. But instead, the main theme gets finessed and smoothed over. It sounds more like a train ride through Lincolnshire than it does the first part of a cosmic struggle. Things improve with the middle fugues. In the first the tempo is good and the energy consistently high, even through the tempestuous parts. Likewise, the second, “rebirth” fugue proceeds along solid interpretive lines, though perhaps the vibe here is a bit too workmanlike: an ideal glow seems just beyond reach. Both the return of the initial material (and especially the conclusion) are likewise fine. From Rehearsal 30 onward the running eighth-note figures in the strings are suitably vigorous. It all closes with a satisfyingly robust send-off, though this does not make up for the weaker portions described above.

 

With the Helios Overture and the Clarinet Concerto we are back to the standard of strong, consistent performances established in this series’ first two entries. But maybe Gardner’s and the BPO’s interpretation of the Fifth Symphony have made me see their other Nielsen in a new light. Solid as their best typically is, I’m often missing that extra edge. With the overture, everything is balanced and well-conceived. The run time of 11:30 is about average. However, maybe those melodic notes in the march-like section could be a touch more vigorous. Maybe that depicted sunrise could scatter rays that are just a little more golden. Similarly, the Clarinet Concerto, in soloist Alessandro Carbonare’s very capable hands, comes off well. It’s probably the best rendered item on this disc. If I can find fault, it’s again with a polished product that perhaps cedes some of the music’s biting character at times. But this is a subtlety few will (or should) fuss over too much. I could recommend a couple of favorite performances, but I wouldn’t greatly prefer them. Anyone is going to be well served by this one.

So essentially the first crack in this series turns out to be an overly tame Fifth Symphony. I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised or disappointed. Carl Nielsen is one of those composers whose sheer range of expression is difficult for one set of performers to capture equally well across the complete orchestral works. Even Leonard Bernstein never recorded the complete cycle of symphonies, and produced a rather clumsy Second and Fourth in addition to a white-hot Third and peerless Fifth. But now Gardner and the BPO have the First and Sixth Symphonies remaining, I believe. Hitting bullseyes on such disparate targets with their next disc would go a long way toward redemption. 

Recent Releases No. 77 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring 

Sky of My Heart. William Byrd (1540-1623): Ecce quam bonum, T 96; Ivan Moody (1964-2024): Canticum Canticorum I - I. Surge propera amica mea; II. Descendi in hortum meum; III. Ego dilecto meo; John Tavener (1944-2013): The Lamb; Becky McGlade (b. 1974): Of the Father’s Love Begotten; Akemi Naito (b.1956): Tsuki no Waka; Paul Moravec (b. 1957): The Last Invocation; Darest Thou Now, O Soul; Byrd: Agnus Dei from Mass for Four Voices*; Andrew Smith (b. 1970): Katarsis; Nico Muhly (b. 1981): My Days*; Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625): The Silver Swan*. New York Polyphony (Geoffrey D. Williams, countertenor; Steven Caldicott Wilson, tenor; Andrew Fuchs tenor; Craig Phillips bass) with *LeStrange Viols (Loren Ludwig and John Mark Rozendaal, treble viol; Kivie Cahn-Lipman, tenor viol; Zoe Weiss and Douglass Kelley, bass viol). BIS-2719 SACD 

Although New York Polyphony is a vocal group new to me, it has been performing since 2006. NYP started recording for BIS in 2012, with Sky of My Heart being its seventh release on the label. According to the liner notes – and as you can certainly gather from a glance at the program above – “bridging a gap between historical and modern music is a hallmark of its performances that has not only earned New York Polyphony two GRAMMY nominations but also helped to move early music into the classical mainstream.” Supporting New York Polyphony on three tracks are LeStrange Viols, a group of American viol players that takes its name from a manuscript collection of consort music assembled by the 17th-century English nobleman and musical antiquarian Nicholas L’Estrange. There is always something delightful about hearing music presented by a small, disciplined set of voices, especially when recorded in lifelike fidelity such as afforded these musicians by the BIS engineering team. That clarity holds up when the viols join in; the Byrd Agnus Dei, for example, is utterly breathtaking. The CD booklet includes brief notes on the music plus texts for the lyrics. For fans of small-scale choral music, this is a highly recommendable release. 

Words Fall Short. Joshua Redman: A Message to Unsend; *So It Goes; Words Fall Short; Borrowed Eyes; **Icarus; Over the Jelly-Green Sea; She Knows; ***Era’s End. Joshua Redman, tenor and soprano saxophones; Paul Cornish, piano; Philip Norris, double bass; Nazir Ebo, drums; with *Melissa Aldana, tenor saxophone; **Skylar Tang, trumpet; ***Gabrielle Cavassa, vocals. Blue Note 00602475915096

Some may recall a brief review the appeared in Classical Candor a few months ago of a concert performance by jazz saxophonist Joshua Redman and his band. At that time, the band (Redman, Cornish, Norris, Ebo, and Cavassa) was touring to promote Redman’s previous album, Where Are We, a collection of songs highlighting the American experience and geography. On the aptly titled Words Fall Short, the emphasis is on instrumentals, with Cavassa (who has been touring this summer with her own band) appearing on only one tune. This time around, Redman is offering us an instrumental album featuring his band cutting loose on his compositions. It is especially fun to hear Redman and guest tenor star Melissa Aldana (whose albums as a leader are well worth seeking out) trading licks on So It Goes. (How wonderful it would be for these two tenor titans to someday record an entire album together – is there any possibility that could actually happen?) On the track Icarus, trumpeter Skylar Tang adds some extra punch to the proceedings as he sometimes doubles Redman’s sax, sometimes steps out to solo, and drummer Ebo also really drives things along with plenty of kinetic energy. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention pianist Paul Cornish, whose melodic touch is evident right from the opening track, and bassist Philip Norris, who kicks off the title track with a thumping bass solo. Although vocalist Cavassa is featured on only one tune, her contribution is a valuable one, bringing bittersweet pathos to Era’s End to close out the album. All in all, Words Fall Short is another solid effort from a modern jazz master.

Platero y Yo

by Bill Heck

Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco: Platero y Yo, Op 190. Niklas Johansen, guitar. OUR Recordings 8.226930-31

This recording will be available October 3, 2025

I’ve been searching for an eye (or ear) catching way to start this review: a great metaphor, a “just right” comparison – hey, I’d settle for a clever phrase. But I’ve come up empty, so I’ll put it simply: this release is a treat. Interesting, wonderful music for solo guitar, a series of short (a few minutes long) interludes based on verses from a lovely prose/poem, superbly played and recorded, and all wrapped up in an excellent package. Let's look at each of these aspects.

We’ll start with the poem, Platero y Yo (Platero and I), by one of Spain’s most famous modern poets, Juan Ramón Jiménez, winner of the Nobel prize for literature in 1956. The 138 sketches in this monumental work are meditations or reflections on life, expressed as directed to Platero, a donkey who is more of a pet than a beast of burden. Lest this sound like some sort of weird fantasy, think of pet owners who say, or at least think, things like “Ah Fido, isn’t this a beautiful day.” Obviously Fido does not answer, nor does Platero; this literary device simply allows the poet to express himself naturally, exploring a range of emotions and a vast store of memories of a childhood in rural Andalusia.

Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco

Castelnuovo-Tedesco was an Italian composer who became friends with Andrés Segovia and ended up composing quite a bit of “Spanish“ music for the guitar. (Readers may recall mention of Castelnuovo-Tedesco in my earlier review of Roberto Moronn Peréz's most recent album of music written for Segovia.) He was greatly taken with Jiménez’s literatry work, eventually composing 28 short pieces, each based on a passage from Platero. While this derivation qualifies the music as programmatic, and reading the associated sketches will deepen your understanding and appreciation of the music, be assured that you can listen to and enjoy the pieces without reference to the writings.

So what is the music like? I really hate that kind of question, as it is so difficult to convey musical experience with written words; still, convention demands that I try. All the pieces certainly are tonal and, as you might suppose, most seem introspective while conveying quite a range of emotions. We wander from sheer joy to deep grieving, from sad commentary on the human condition to wonder at the delights of nature. You might think of the individual pieces as mini-tone poems, all eminently suited to the guitar.

Niklas Johansen

The performances here are, in a word, superb. Johansen certainly is no novice, with a number of recordings and awards to his credit. Moreover, it is obvious, both from his notes in the accompanying booklet and from his playing, that he cares deeply about this music. Technically, the performances are  fully adept, with never any sense of strain. But more than that, Johansen conveys emotional nuance without overemphasis, energy when needed and quiet introspection when called for, not drawing attention to himself but letting the music speak through his instrument.

Then there’s the recording: the booklet informs us that the album was recorded in Fredensborg Palace Chapel in Denmark by special permission of King Frederik X. In this case, the king certainly has done a public service: the acoustics of the chapel are reverberant but not muddy, suiting the music very well, and the engineers have captured the sound wonderfully.

Usually, my reviews are agnostic as to what format a listener might choose: streaming the music, downloading it, buying a CD, or whatever. In this case, however, I really do prefer the two CD set -- it's not just disks, it’s a full package. The attractive outer box contains a similarly attractive inner foldout holding the two CDs (securely but easily extractable) with a handy track listing between them. The box also contains a serious booklet: 72 pages of interesting information about the guitarist, the poet, the composer, the composition itself, the recording process, and even the recording site, all nicely illustrated with photos. And wait, there's more: English translations of all of the 28 sketches on which the musical compositions are based are included, each with an original black-and-white illustration of the setting. Although I mentioned earlier that the music can stand alone without reference to the poems, surely most listeners will want to read these evocative words.

Platero y Yo has been recorded previously, of course. I certainly have not undertaken a comprehensive survey, but I did a few a quick comparisons. Catherine Liolios’s 2017 set, for instance, is good, but I find it a bit subdued compared to Johansen’s more energetic and expressive approach (and her set, along with a couple of others that I tried to locate, seems to be unavailable, at least in the CD version). I also ruled out multiple recordings that include spoken narration (in several different languages): I prefer to read the relevant passages if I’m in the mood to do so, and otherwise to simply listen to the music standing alone; YMMV.

All in all, as I said in the first paragraph, this release is a treat. It’s easy to recommend that you treat yourself to this lovely music as well.

One more quick note: guitarist Niklas Johansen has recorded a series of videos about this project. As of this writing, the first has been released on YouTube here; more are to follow.

Chopin: Mazurkas, Volume 1 (Streaming Review)

by Ryan Ross

Ingrid Fliter, piano. LINN CKD780 

 

I’ll lay some cards on the table: I like only small dashes of rubato in Chopin’s music, or indeed in any music. One reads various stories about what Chopin himself preferred, and about what others heard when they listened to him play the piano. The consensus seems to be that he did not stray, or at least did not advocate straying, too far from strict tempo in the bass while sometimes rhythmically altering the right-hand melody for expressive effect, particularly at the ends of phrases. So, while he was perhaps a touch more liberal about rubato compared to myself, I’m guessing he was decidedly more conservative than Ingrid Fliter is in this release. For what we have here is a love letter to rubato. And if you don’t love rubato as much as Fliter apparently does, you’re in for a bumpy ride.

Chopin may not have composed his mazurkas to be danced to, but they are dances nonetheless. Moreover, they are dances in triple meter with the signature rhythmic stress on the second and sometimes third beat after a dotted-rhythm opening beat. This distinctive profile can bear some rubato, but too much obscures its character and disrupts what should be a delicate balance. In my estimation, the best performers of Chopin’s mazurkas apply only a little rubato and instead rely on dynamic shading, tone color, and the intrinsically ethnic flavor of the music for optimal results. These pieces welcome a light interpretive touch; Fliter’s is anything but light. She rather capriciously applies rhythmic alteration at any given point, sometimes in consistent patterns but often not. So, for instance, while Fliter lingers on all of Op. 7, No. 1’s quarter-note B-flat trills for noticeably longer than written, she alters the triplet rhythm in the opening melodic phrase of Op. 7, No. 2 to sound like an inverted mordent while correctly playing other triplets throughout the piece. Or hear how the rubato applied at the beginning of Op. 24, No. 3 ruins the effect of dotted versus straight rhythms in the melody, because the straight rhythm gets comparatively rushed over and therefore obscured. Or listen to the performance of Op. 50, No. 1, where in the second section melody Fliter plays the eighth note/sixteenth rest/sixteenth note rhythm as written the first time, but on repeat plays it straight.

 

Sometimes Fliter fudges more than the rhythms, and not always clearly in service of rubato. Maybe the worst example comes in Op. 6, No. 1, where she repeats (rather than holds) the tied A pitches spanning the second and third full measures. On other occasions Fliter simply ignores dynamic markings. In the second section of Op. 6, No. 3, for instance, she plays the first measure at fortissimo but introduces the following pianissimo dynamic one measure sooner than written, completely altering the indicated effect. In Op. 6/1 (again), the written dynamics are not always followed in the middle section. In WN 14 (which is actually Op. 68, No. 2 but not indicated as such on the track) she under-observes the crescendo at the poco piu mosso, blowing a dynamic differentiation that we should hear properly.

My chief impression here is that Fliter is not much of a musical thinker. She relies on whims and feelings to guide her more than she does meticulous attention to detail. Actually, I think this approach is intentional. These performances sound like someone trying hard to eke out interpretive territory. But while she ostensibly wants to make this repertoire her own, it merely sounds labored and undisciplined in her hands.

 

Which is unfortunate. Because despite all this Fliter is clearly quite talented. Once in a while, some great moments emerge. The sotto voce sounds she elicits in Op. 7, Nos. 1 and 3 are very nice. And truth be told, while excessive rubato yet afflicts most of the Opp. 50 and 59 mazurkas included, the seasoned introversion that marks some of these later pieces seems to elicit from her a modicum of needed restraint, allowing better playing to intermittently shine through

 

But we’re talking a whole lot of chaff surrounding relatively little wheat. On the whole, I’m not looking forward to the subsequent mazurka installments from Ms. Fliter. My best recommendation: go ahead and give this first entry a listen if you’re curious. Just don’t expect it to rival the Rubinstein or other celebrated Chopin mazurka performances in your affections. At least, not if you’re free from addiction to rubato. 

Pictures from Finland (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Rumon Gamba, conductor; Oulu Sinfonia. Chandos CHAN 20401

It’s been almost two years since I reviewed Overtures from Finland here at Classical Candor. That recording was an earlier offering on Chandos by the selfsame Rumon Gamba and the Oulu Sinfonia. While not every work on it was actually titled an overture (there were a couple of “preludes”), the project at least had a tidy overarching theme for its mostly welcome discoveries. That disc remains one of my favorite new releases from the label. It’s as fun to revisit as it was to first encounter.

Pictures from Finland is, on the whole, neither quite as fun nor quite as tidy, though it does feature some of the same composers. It presents a somewhat more motley assortment of offerings in terms of taxonomy and quality. The title “Music from Finland” would be more fitting, if also more pedestrian. Some of the included works definitely are picturesque, but it is not immediately clear that Robert Kajanus’s more plainly named Adagietto or even Finnish Rhapsody No. 2, for example, fit the bill. I guess Leevi Madetoja’s short Stabat Mater could be considered picturesque, but it is also not clear why this work especially belongs on an album extolling Finnish images and featuring no other sung selections.

 

In truth, I would take this all completely in stride if I found more of the music here particularly compelling. As I did in 2023, I’m going to single out Kajanus. One “dud” (as I called it then) was not enough to substantially detract from the otherwise winning album I found Overtures from Finland to be. But now we get TWO helpings of his music on Pictures from Finland, which for me all the more dampen a project that could have been better conceived. When these works are not simply bland they’re the musical equivalent of Wagner fanfic, which might be worse than bland. The Finnish Rhapsody is oddly named, at least insofar as the climatic passages toward the end sound like re-microwaved Tannhäuser. Crucial for the emergence of Finnish national music (and especially Sibelius’s career) Kajanus may have been, but his own compositional voice leaves much to be desired.

Less annoyingly derivative are the two included works by Väinö Raitio. But what they avoid in overt mimicry they nearly make up for in being unassuming. The Idyll and “Domestic Cat” Scherzo are nice enough, but hardly do they lend any strong Finnish identity to a recording branding itself as such. Daniel M. Grimley’s liner notes mention Scriabin’s influence in the latter work, and its “almost Stravinskian humour.” I guess this is great if you like a heavy dose of cosmopolitanism with your Pictures from Finland.

 

Things improve with the remaining repertoire. Little need be said of the obligatory Sibelius piece, the “Scene with Cranes” from his Kuolema music. It’s well performed and adds much-needed picturesqueness to some of its surroundings. Welcome, too, is the Suite Pastorale by Madetoja. An orchestration of some earlier piano pieces, most of this music is of admittedly mild flavor. The best part is the “Legend” movement, which hits harder emotionally than its brethren. 

 

This album ostensibly gets its title from Selim Palmgren’s Aus Finnland, subtitled “Pictures from Finland.” If we don’t count the Sibelius, this is easily the best music included. Vivid and tuneful, it is not only the namesake of the recording but also almost singlehandedly shoulders its promise. It sounds more Finnish than almost everything else on the disc, what with its folk- and modal- flavored melodies and harmonies. It also recalls this composer’s first two piano concerti in its sheer capacity to evoke northern scenes. I would pay to hear this composition again in the concert hall far more readily than the other works here that I did not know beforehand.

 

As far as I can tell, Gamba and company perform everything well. The sound is wonderful, and the overall product gives off Chandos’s customary shine. In terms of content, I can give a mild recommendation on the strength of the Palmgren, the Sibelius, and a few other favorable points. These would just add up to me buying the disc. But if you’re not the Scandinavian music lover that I am, your mileage may vary. 

Mendelssohn Orchestral Works (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Mendelssohn: Symphony No. 3 in A minor ‘Scottish’, Op. 56, MWV N18; A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Op. 61, MWV M13 (excerpts) – No. 1: Scherzo (after Act 1); No. 7: Nocturne (after Act III); No. 9: Wedding March (after Act IV). Baltimore Symphony Orchestra; Sergiu Comissiona, conductor. VOX VOX-VX-NX-3046CD

Mendelssohn: The Hebrides in D major ‘Fingal’s Cave’ Op. 26, MWV P7; Symphony No. 4 in A major ‘Italian’, Op. 90, MWV N16; Symphony No. 5 in D major ‘Reformation’, Op. 107, MWV N15. Baltimore Symphony Orchestra; Sergiu Comissiona, conductor. VOX VOX-VX-NX-3047CD

 

Many of our readers of a certain age are no doubt familiar with Vox, a budget label that produced some real musical treasures over the years. An example from my own experience is the day back in the mid-1970s when I was strolling through a Sears department store one afternoon and came across an aisle display that featured the newly released 4-LP Vox Box of Ravel’s orchestral music featuring Stanislaw Skrowaczewski conducting the Minnesota Orchestra. I was at the time back in college on the G.I. Bill after serving 4½ years in the Army, with a wife, two kids, a pair of Bose 901s, a rapidly expanding passion for classical music, and a tight budget. When I saw that this box was on sale for something like seven bucks – well, that settled it, I just had to have it. It sounded pretty darn good through the 901s (purchased in Germany with my reenlistment bonus) when I got home, and I found the music of Monsieur Ravel to be utterly captivating. Even though Vox was a budget label, the sound quality on some of their releases could be excellent (the main drawback was the often substandard quality of their vinyl pressings), and this Ravel set, which was recorded by Elite Recordings (engineer Marc Aubort and producer Joanna Nickrenz), had beguiling sound. Those performances and recordings still hold up as you can see from reviews of digital releases from the Ravel set, such as a review from our own John Puccio that you can read here, or an article at the PS Audio website that provides some insight into the recording process, which you can find here. 

Appearing on the back cover of these new “Vox Audiophile Edition” releases is a highlighted statement affirming that “The Elite recordings for VOX by the legendary producers Marc Aubort and Joanna Nickrenz are considered by audiophiles to be amongst the finest sounding examples of orchestral recordings.” For this series of reissues from the Vox catalog, the folks at Naxos have been pulling some of those tapes out from the vaults and carefully preparing these CDs for release, the end product of their labors being what they describe as “new192 kHz / 24-bit ultra high definition transcriptions of the original Elite Recordings analogue master tapes.” We have previously reviewed several releases in this “Audiophile Edition” series originally recorded by the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and found them to be excellent, so we were eager to audition these recordings from Baltimore. We have in our collection numerous fine recordings by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra under the baton of David Zinman on the Telarc and Argo labels, so we know how good they can sound.

Of course we ought not consider only sound without stopping first to reflect on the most important component of these releases: the music. In these unsettling times, with disturbing developments assaulting our senses and emotions from week to week, day to day, seemingly hour to hour on particularly bad days, how comforting it can be to listen to the music of Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847). Mendelssohn was a master of melody; however, by that I do not mean to imply that his music is merely a succession of pretty tunes. It has substance, it has grace, it has style. The late conductor Sergiu Comissiona (1928-2005), who was born in Romania, emigrated to Israel, then later became an American citizen, enjoyed a successful 16-year term at the helm of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, building them into a first-class musical outfit. When you combine the attractive music of Mendelssohn, the solid musicianship of Comissiona and his orchestra, and the excellent sonics provided by the team of Aubort and Nickrenz (transferred to CD by the Naxos engineers), the end result is a pair of CDs capable of making the world seem a better place.

British Piano Quintets (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Percy Godfrey: Piano Quintet, Op. 16; Ivor Hodgson: Piano Quintet; Richard Walthew: “Phantasy” Quintet; John McCabe: Sam Variations. I Muscanti; Peter Donohoe, piano. SOMM Recordings SOMMCD 0707

 

Exploring little-known repertoire is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it’s fun to discover new favorites and see what has been unfairly neglected. On the other hand, if you’re honest with yourself, you’re forced to admit that many works probably merit relative obscurity. Many others stand little chance of escaping it, merit notwithstanding. And you can’t tell which is which until you roll up your sleeves and do the hard work of lifting each proverbial stone, one at a time, to see what’s under it. I’d be lying if I said that doing so doesn’t feel tedious at times. As always when I review such repertoire, I listened to each work on this recording more times than I probably would have if I weren’t reviewing it. The majority are quite nice, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I shed my mortal coil without ever having revisited them. There is just so much to discover, and so many legitimate favorites to return to. How much time do we have for this stuff anyway?

I’ll start with the one I enjoyed most: Percy Godfrey’s Piano Quintet, Op. 16. Robert Matthew-Walker’s liner notes tell us that today this composer’s music is “almost entirely forgotten.” No kidding. I don’t even see a Wikipedia article for him. British music is one of my musicological concentrations, and I don’t remember ever having heard of Godfrey until encountering this recording. Am I going to become a Godfrey crusader after getting to know his piano quintet? No, but it is well crafted and has some fetching thematic ideas. I particularly like the scherzo and finale. We have some very pleasant music here that is highly unlikely to change your life. I don’t know what else to say about it.

Richard Walthew, however, does have a Wikipedia article to his name. It shows that he was an exact contemporary of Ralph Vaughan Williams and likewise produced a “Phantasy” Quintet dedicated to chamber music aficionado William Wilson Cobbett. Beyond that, the similarities diminish. Walthew’s quintet is scored for piano and strings rather than just strings, and it can boast nothing like RVW’s unmistakable voice. Instead, we have a one-movement work showing a hefty debt to Brahms. There are some lovely passages, no question, but nothing distinguished.

Of the remaining two quintets, I liked one a little and the other not at all. Ivor Hodgson’s Piano Quintet is in four movements, each of which is named after a different Derbyshire location (three inns and a more general setting). The liner note descriptions of these settings do help the listener enjoy (or at least appreciate) the music more. But even without them, the mixture of postwar modernism and popular/humorous elements is mildly engaging. I make special mention of the non-inn movement, “Moonlight over Mount Famine,” a beautiful passage that may just increase my likelihood of revisiting this disc.

 

I’m afraid I have nothing enthusiastic to say about John McCabe’s Sam Variations. The tune upon which it is based, a theme song by the same composer for a short-lived 1970s television program, is the closest I have heard McCabe come to writing something catchy. It’s a pity we don’t really encounter it more fully (to echo the liner notes) in these variations, which revert to his usual tendency toward the prickly and angular. But I know now for a fact that there are John McCabe Fans out there, and they should probably buy this recording for these variations alone.

The problem is, the other composers represented here don’t seem to have similar followings. Moreover, I am not certain that the music offered will help create them. So, I don’t know who else to recommend this recording to. British music fans? Chamber music fans? The general classical music lover? Sure. I guess I’ll just advise that you listen before you invest. After all, there are lots of stones to look under.