Brahms: Klavierstücke (CD Review)

 by Ryan Ross

András Schiff, pianist. ECM New Series 2730/31

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

by Karl Nehring

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

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

 

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

Bantock: Orchestral Works (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

Ted Rosenthal Trio: Classics Reimagined: impromp2 (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring 

Chopin: Waltz in C-sharp minor; Dvorak: Slavonic Dance; Chopin: Mazurka in A minor¹; Mussorgsky: The Old Castle²; Rachmaninoff: Vocalise³; Brahms: Allegretto from Symphony No. 3; Beethoven: “Pathetique” Sonata, 2^nd Movement; “Pathetique” Sonata, 3^rd Movement; Elgar: Salut D’Amour⁴; Satie: Je Te Veux⁵; Chopin: Waltz in A-flat⁶. Ted Rosenthal, piano; Norika Ueda, bass; Quincy Davis, drums; with the following musicians appearing on individual tracks as indicated: ^1,2Tim Horner, drums; ^2,6Ken Peplowski, clarinet; ^3,4,5Sara Caswell, violin. TMR Music TMR #101725

Pianist Ted Rosenthal (b. 1959) has a solid grounding in classical music, with bachelor’s and master’s degrees in classical piano performance. Outside the classroom, he pursued his interest in jazz; after college, he continued private study in classical piano while playing jazz gigs around New York. His big break came in 1988, when he entered and won the prestigious Thelonious Monk International Jazz Competition, resulting in a recording contract and the launching of a successful career as a jazz musician. However, he has kept his hand in classical music, appearing as a soloist with symphony orchestras as well as composing a piano concerto and an opera. About this recording, he explains, “Impromp2 is a collection of my reimaginings of themes from the classical world into the world of jazz. I have performed this repertoire often: with my trio, in solo concerts, and with trio plus chamber orchestra. I often hear classical themes as being ripe for jazz treatments – perhaps with a bit of mischievous intent. Setting these melodies with embellished jazz harmonies comes naturally to me. The next challenge is finding a satisfying form for improvisation. Finally, finding a rhythmic “groove” that makes the whole treatment work without sounding forced or contrived is key. I have been playing many of the pieces on this CD for a few years already and firmly believe that as ‘jazz tunes,’ they work.”

 

What Rosenthal says about classical pieces working as a basis for jazz tunes certainly seems to make solid sense. Much of the jazz repertoire consists of improvisatory reworking of popular music; in particular, the Great American Songbook. So why not apply the jazz approach to some of the great melodies of the classical masters? Some readers of a certain age and musical disposition may recall the Dave Brubeck Quartet’s Blue Rondo a la Turk, the group’s jazz take on a theme by Mozart; more recently, we’ve had the young New Orleans pianist Jon Batiste offering us jazz takes on music by Beethoven (our review of “Beethoven Blues” can be found here) and Mozart (see our review of “Black Mozart” here). Now we have this new release from Ted Rosenthal that features tastefully swinging arrangements of music by classical composers. The program kicks off with a lively Chopin waltz that leaves waltz rhythm behind to infuse Latin energy. After some more dances from Dvorak and Chopin again, we come to one of the special highlights of the album, a hauntingly atmospheric take on Mussorgsky featuring veteran clarinetist Ken Peplowski. This is followed by another lyrical guest appearance, violinist Sara Caswell on Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise. Then we get an unexpected delight, a swinging yet faithful to the original arrangement of the bittersweet Allegretto movement from Brahms’s Third Symphony. Rosenthal then offers a solo improvisation based on the second movement of Beethoven’s ‘Pathetique’, followed by a trio arrangement of the third movement. The Brahms and Beethoven are the highlights of the program; however, Impromp2 is a joy from start to finish, and I highly recommend it to jazz and classical fans alike.

Recent Reases No. 86 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Schubert: Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D. 759 “Unfinished”; Symphony No. 9 in C major, D. 944 “The Great”. Park Avenue Chamber Symphony; David Bernard, conductor. Recursive Classics RC6758911

Today we think of these two Schubert symphonies as old friends, natural discmates on CD, works that have been part of the standard orchestral repertoire ever since Schubert completed putting pen to paper. However, the actual story is much different, as music critic David Patrick Stearns explains in his liner note essay: “Franz Peter Schubert’s nine symphonies represent a Viennese musical crossroad – a busy one – though when different currents came together in his final few works, nobody knew it for decades. In Schubert’s lifetime (1797-1828) Symphony No. 8 (Unfinished) was partly completed in 1822, later forgotten and not heard until 1865. Symphony No. 9 (The Great) was finished in 1827, not published until 1849, was considered unreasonably long and laughed at by orchestral musicians.” Fortunately, conductor David Bernard and the musicians of the Park Avenue Chamber Symphony (a full-sized symphony orchestra) hold these symphonies in high regard and present them here in performances that strive for balance and clarity. The music seems to simply unfold naturally, without exaggeration, an approach that is especially well-suited to the Ninth, which can become exhausting if a conductor tries to over-dramatize the score. Not here. Maestro Bernard seems to find the sweet spot between the Classic and Romantic sides of the work, an interpretive approach that comes across as neither buttoned-down nor overblown. The sound quality of this recording is also exemplary, offering an excellent stereo spread plus a sense of depth and warmth. The Stearns essay is a welcome bonus, making this CD an easily recommendable release.

 

Orff: Carmina Burana. Chen Reiss, soprano; Reginald Mobley, countertenor; Audivi, chorus; Detroit Opera Youth Chorus, children’s chorus; Detroit Symphony Orchestra; Jader Bignamini, conductor. PENTATONE PTC 5187 519

Back in the 1970s when I first began to develop an interest in classical music, there were a couple of compositions that seemed to get a remarkable amount of airplay. Every few days on the local classical FM station we would hear Pictures at an Exhibition or Carmina Burana – or maybe even both. In addition, it seemed as though every classical record label had new recordings of these compositions coming out, not to mention all the recordings already in their back catalogs. These days, however, things seem to have changed. FM classical radio is barely hanging on, and neither Pictures at an Exhibition nor Carmina Burana seem to be attracting much public attention. Lo and behold, however, suddenly it’s 2026 and along comes Pentatone with a new recording of Carl Orff’s greatest hit. As we have come to expect these days, it’s a live concert recording – the days of assembling such a large group of musicians for a “studio” recording are pretty much behind us. Fortunately, the first-class engineering team from Soundmirror has done a commendable job and the sound has convincing impact and clarity – not quite Telarc-class, given the restriction of live performance, but still more than adequate. The performance comes across with life and conviction, reminding the listener of how entertaining this piece can be when performed with conviction by musicians at the top of their game. For those music lovers who have not yet encountered Orff’s spectacular composition, this new performance from Detroit would serve as an excellent introduction.

Recent Releases No. 85 (CD Reviews)

 by Karl Nehring

Bamboo Grove. Zhou Long: Bamboo Grove for Unaccompanied Violin; Chen Yi: Xian Shi for Viola, Percussion, and Piano; Zhou Long: Tales from the Nine Bells for Clarinet, Violin, Viola & Piano; Chen Yi: Suite for Viola and Chamber Winds. Patrick Yim, violin and viola; with Kirsten Docter, viola; Catherine Ramirez, flute; Jennet Ingle, oboe; John Diodati, clarinet; Anna Marsh, bassoon; Matthew Oliphant, horn; Charles Roberts, trumpet; Riley Leitch, trombone; Paul Vaillancourt, percussion; Shuai Wang, piano; Paul Hostetter, conductor. Pentatone PTC 5187 586 

In his extensive liner notes, Patrick Yim writes that “across these works, Western instruments are reimagined in striking and often unexpected ways. The violin and viola become vessels for the sounds of the erhu, guquin, yehu, pipa, xiao, lusheng, and ancient bell ensembles; intricate textures evoke the energy of Peking opera percussion and regional folk traditions such as Chaozhou xianshi. Through extended techniques sound color itself becomes an important expressive force… Exquisite orchestration, whirling timbres, finely woven textures, and impassioned lyricism define a sound world that is at one ancient and contemporary.”  The program begins with Yim playing the album’s title composition, Zhou Long’s Bamboo Grove, and yes, he truly does coax some unexpected sounds from his violin. I will confess that the first time I auditioned this track, I was put off; however, as I have listened to it more, I have come to appreciate its intricacy and energy. Still, I suspect it will be the most divisive piece on the album for most listeners. The remainder of the album is more likely to appeal to bring more joy to more ears. Chen Yi’s Xian Shi is rooted in folk ensemble music from the composer’s mother’s hometown; although the melodies are rooted in another culture, they still have melodic appeal, and the energetic percussion adds extra appeal. Zhou Long’s Tales from the Nine Bells has more of a dramatic character, the instruments seeming to convey shadowy characters from those mysterious tales. It’s an absorbing musical portrait. Then it’s back to Chen Yi for the final piece on the program, the four-movement Suite for Viola and Chamber Winds, which also features percussion. Adapted from a work for cello and string quartet, it lacks the immediate melodic appeal of her Xian Shi but is still enjoyable on its own merits.

 

All in all, then, Bamboo Grove is an album well worth seeking out by those music lovers with a desire to broaden their musical horizons. The music is of excellent quality, as is the engineering; moreover, Yim has provided an extensive booklet essay with background information on the composers and their music. For more background on this release, here is a link to a YouTube video. 

 

Constellations. Ravel: Le Tombeau de Couperin (transcr. Mason Jones); Pavane pour le Infante Défunte (transcr. Guy du Cheyron); Barber: Summer Music, Op. 31; Shostakovich: String Quartet No. 8 in C Minor, op. 110 (transcr. David Walter); Èlègie (arr. of Act I, Scene 2 from Lady Macbeth from Mtsensk, transcr. Nicolas Ramez). Ouranos Ensemble (Mathilde Calderini, flute; Amaury Viduvier, clarinet; Philbert Perrine, oboe; Rafael Angster, Bassoon; Nicolas Ramez, horn). Alpha Classics ALPHA 1183

 This is one of those releases about which you don’t quite know what to expect, but the idea sounds like an interesting one. A wind quintet playing the Ravel sounds perfectly plausible; however, a Shostakovich string quartet? Hmmm… Intrigued by this unusual program, we gave Constellations repeated auditions, ultimately finding it to be something of a mixed bag, although not without its rewards. Right out of the gate, the Ravel arrangement came across as a slight bit off. Perhaps the problem is one of familiarity with Ravel’s original arrangement for orchestra; in any event, as played here, the weight of the horn and bassoon parts seem to thicken the sound. It is certainly well played; however, there is just something about the overall sonority that just doesn’t quite feel Ravelian. The Barber Summer Music, however, is another story, sounding perfectly balanced for this ensemble; furthermore, like most of Barber’s music, it is engaging and entertaining. Perhaps not surprisingly, it is the only composition on this album that is not a transcription: Barber composed it as a wind quintet. The transcription of the Shostakovich String Quartet No. 8 is the boldest stroke here, and the hardest to assess. On the one hand, it is certainly interesting to hear this familiar piece presented this way, but on the other hand, the original string quartet packs vastly more emotional wallop. The brief Èlègie brings the program to a peaceful, pleasant conclusion. For woodwind fans, Constellations is worth a listen, particularly for the Barber.

Clarinet Concertos by Freda Swain, Denis ApIvor, and Gerald Finzi (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Peter Cigleris, clarinet; Jonathan Raper, timpani; Austin Beattie, percussion; Lynn Arnold, piano; John Andrews, conductor; London Mozart Players. SOMM Recordings SOMMCD 0722

SOMM continues its survey of little-known British repertoire with this release of two newly-recorded clarinet concertos, anchored by one of the great works in the genre. As I have said about the CPO label, we owe SOMM a debt of gratitude for making this repertoire available for us to hear. But their niche is a double-edged sword. For while it is fun to explore fresh names and works, the flip side is that little of this music is likely to catch on widely. The label ostensibly hopes that it sells enough offerings of familiar fare to offset the risk of recording everything else. This probably explains the pairing here of the beloved Finzi Clarinet Concerto with two items that are solid but not nearly as memorable.

 

Of course SOMM can hardly be expected to come out and say this. But it is curious to read the liner notes by Robert Matthew-Walker, which suggest that all three of these composers are meaningfully groupable. He writes: “Each of these concertos contains elements of restrained, undemonstrative expression, set against moments of strong drama and occasionally trenchant language by composers who knew their limitations and so, in their various ways, achieved genuine art, even if their achievements were neither fully appreciated at the time nor – certainly in two instances – recognised since.” Matthew-Walker continues: “For some listeners, therefore, these three clarinet concertos will come as revelatory experiences – certainly in the previously unappreciated music of Denis ApIvor and Freda Swain.”

 

If we’re fair, Matthew-Walker does somewhat acknowledge that ApIvor and Swain are not in the same exact boat as Finzi. But when he speaks of shared “limitations” and “revelatory experiences,” I can’t imagine most listeners responding to these three pieces on comparable terms. The elephant in the room is that neither ApIvor nor Swain possessed anything close to Finzi’s enviable melodic gift. And while it’s true that the latter’s long-developing craft speaks to some limitations, he had spades of “IT Factor” that explain his minor-master status. The other two fall considerably short of that mark.

 

The most memorable thing about ApIvor’s Concertante for clarinet, piano and percussion is its instrumentation. He does achieve a distinctive sound by writing competently for this quirky ensemble. But the themes in all of the movements amount to an angular forgettability residing in much other competent but dry twentieth-century music. The best part is its second movement, which deftly employs a simple syncopated rhythm that enriches everything else. It is a testament to how even very small elements can have disproportionately enlivening effects. But I wonder if this will be enough to prevent me from skipping the movement when it henceforth pops up on my Spotify shuffle list. Freda Swain’s “Lumine naturi” Concertino for clarinet with string orchestra and (one) horn likewise leans on its unconventional instrumentation and, perhaps, a weird title. I cannot say I found its materials terribly compelling, though the opening “pastorale” movement does have an attractively brisk outdoor feeling. But after listening to it multiple times, that’s honestly all I can remember.

 

A stellar Finzi Concerto here would have done much to sell the album as a whole. Alas, no. The fault lies not with Peter Cigleris, who dispatches the solo part extremely well. Rather, John Andrews and the London Mozart Players sound bogged down and spiritually uncommitted next to my preferred accounts (Naxos 8.553566 and ASV CDDCA787), particularly in the first movement. I get more warmth and, dare I say it, SENTIMENTALITY elsewhere. But if you’re one of those listeners whose relationship with emotional fervor is like a vampire’s with garlic, you’ll probably be more enthused than I was.

 

If any SOMM leaders or musicians are reading this, I don’t want them to get too discouraged. Classical music needs more such recordings. Knowing what’s out there is a worthwhile enterprise apart from merely finding things to which one enjoys listening. In this case, I’ve met both goals. But with all of us, the matter tends to come back to these questions: how much money and time do we have? If you have enough of both, scoop this up. If you just have time, then yeah, give it a listen. If you have limited amounts of either, stick to the beaten paths.

Recent Releases No. 84 (Streaming Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

For Arvo (Extended Version). Pärt: Für Alina (Version 1); Variations for the Healing of Arinushka; Fratres (Transc. Osokins for Piano); Ukuara Waltz; Vier leichte Tanzstücke “Musik für Kindertheater” – No. 1, Der gestiefelte Kater; No. 2, Rotkäppchen; No. 3, Schmetterlinge; No. 4, Tanz der Entenküken; Mommy’s Kiss; Pari intervallo (Transc. Osokins for Piano); 2 Sonatinas for Piano, Op. 1 No. 1 - I. Allegro; II. Larghetto; Für Anna Maria; 2 Sonatinas for Piano, Op. 1 No. 2 - I. Allegro energico’ II. Largo; Partita, III. Allegro; Hymn to a Great City; Diagrams, Op. 11 – I. Unruhig; II. Ruhig; Partita, Op. 2 – I. Toccatina; II. Fughetta. III. Larghetto; IV. Ostinato; Lamentate: Fragile e conciliante (Transc. Osokins for Piano); Für Alina (Version 2); *Hymn to a Great City for 2 pianos (Live from the Martha Argerich Festival in Hamburg); Für Alina (Live from the Martha Argerich Festival in Hamburg). Georgjis Osokins, piano; *Martha Argerich, piano. Deutsche Grammophon 00028948676729

To celebrate the 90^th birthday of Estonian composer Arvo Pärt, Deutsche Grammophon released the album For Arvo on September 11, 2025 (you can read our review of that album here).  Exactly one year later, September 11, 2026, DG has released what they are terming an “extended version” of For Arvo, adding two tracks recorded at the Martha Argerich Festival in June 2025. As I pointed out in my review of the original CD release, most classical music lovers should be familiar with Pärt’s music, given that his compositions have been recorded by myriad performers on a variety of labels. For those of us of a certain age, though, Pärt was once a newcomer who suddenly appeared on the scene with music unlike anything we had ever heard before. I can still vividly recall the first time I heard his music. While I was in graduate school, I had a weekend job as a security guard for a manufacturer of computer support equipment. One of my late-night duties was to drive from my post at the main plant to check on the training center, which was a couple of miles or so away. On one of those late-night drives, I found that our classical FM radio station was playing engrossing music unlike any music I had never heard before. I was spellbound! I parked in the training center parking lot and listened to the end of the piece, eager to find out what this music could possibly be. It turned out to be the landmark ECM release Tabula Rasa, featuring the music of Arvo Pärt as played by the then-young violinist Gidon Kremer and – of all pianists – the jazz icon Keith Jarrett. I have been an avid Pärt fan ever since and have auditioned and owned many of his numerous compositions over the past several decades. 

 

About a decade after my discovery of Pärt’s music, Georgijs Osokins was born into a family of pianists in the Latvian capital of Riga in 1995. Then in 2025, Osokins released his debut album on DG, For Arvo. “This album is a declaration of my deep love for Arvo and his music,” wrote Osokins in the liner notes of the CD. “It encompasses both completely unknown pieces, and some of the most-performed works of the last forty years. It Includes both original works and the art-form of piano transcriptions. I wanted to capture the very moment of the composer’s revelation – from complex contemporary avant-garde through to pure, luminous and enigmatic beauty and simplicity.” And that aptly describes what this release comprises; fortunately, the luminous and beautiful tracks outnumber the avant-garde. The opening tracks -- Für Alina, Variations for the Healing of Arinushka, Fratres, Ukuaru Waltz; Vier leichte Tanzstücke (“Four Easy Dance Pieces”), and Pari intervallo – are all relatively straightforward, easy on the ears, and the kind of music that most fans of Pärt have grown to appreciate. Especially noteworthy is Osokins’s transcription for piano of Fratres, which offer a fresh insight into this much-loved composition. The streaming version includes Mommy’ Kiss, a short but pleasant track that was not included on the CD. The two Sonatinas and the Partita are the works that lean more toward the avant-garde; however, although they are certainly not as easy on the ear as the other selections, neither are they the kind of dissonant, pounding piano works that the term “avant-garde” might scare one into fearing – in fact, they’re quite listenable. Sandwiched between the two Sonatinas is Für Anna Maria, brief but touching, and then after Partita comes the tender Lamentate, and the simple but expressive Hymn to a Great City. The first movement of Diagrams is frankly pounding and unpleasant, not at all typical of the style of the later Pärt, while the second movement, although still atypical, is at least easier on the ear. The second version of Für Alina is recorded more distantly, producing a haunting effect. Interestingly, time seems to be almost suspended, dreamlike, but the timing is the same as for the opening track. The beloved pianist Martha Argerich joins Osokins for a performance of Hymn to a Great City – her first public performance of Pårt’s music, and then the program closes as it began, with Osokins playing the deeply haunting Für Alina. Even for those who own the original CD, this new streaming release with its additional tracks is well worth seeking out.

 

Brahms: Symphony No. 3 in D Major, Op. 90 (arr. for two pianos by the composer). Piano duo Adrienne Soòs & Ivo Haag

I came across this release pretty much by accident late one evening on Amazon Music. I had been listening to this, that and the other when I noticed that the algorithm suggested this for me. I had no idea that Brahms had made a two-piano arrangement of my favorite of his symphonies. Hmmmm… I figured it would be worth a listen just to see what it would sound like. I didn’t expect to find it worth auditioning more than that one time; however, much to my surprise and delight, I found it to be a deeply satisfying recording, one that gave me an even greater appreciation for one of my favorite symphonies. We music lovers should be grateful that Brahms, who was himself a gifted pianist, decided to make his own transcriptions of his orchestral works rather than turn them over to staff arrangers at the publishing houses of his day. As you might expect, the arrangement captures the beauty and spirit of this remarkable symphony. The full palette provided by two keyboards allowed Brahms to paint a colorful pianistic portrait of his symphony, which the Hungarian/Swiss piano duo Adrienne Soós and Ivo Haag reproduce with artistry and affection. To those who hold the Brahms Third Symphony in high regard, I strongly suggest you give this two-piano version an audition.

Black Mozart (Batiste Piano Series, Vol. 2) (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Mozart/Batiste: Facile-Batiste; Alla Blues; Alla Turc Movement; Shine: Twinkle; Processional; Country Zart; Molto; Molto in Cayo Hueso; Gospel Andante. Jon Batiste, piano. Decca 199957881494

Pianist and composer Jon Batiste (b. 1986) is likely an unfamiliar figure to many fans of classical music; however, many others may well remember his 2015-2022 stint as bandleader on the popular television program, The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. (American) football fans might recall that it was Batiste who performed the national anthem at Super Bowl LIX. Back in early 2025, we reviewed Batiste’s Beethoven Blues (Verve/Interscope 602475263807), the first recording in which the New Orleans-rooted musician put his own spin on a classical composer (you can find that review here). In this new release, Batiste turns his attention to Mozart, and the results are even better. There seems to be something about the inherent tunefulness of Mozart’s music that gets Batiste’s improvisational juices flowing. He writes, “a key aspect of Mozart’s music of immense potency is how accessible and elementary it is – humble, singable melodies not overwritten – capturing the essence of childhood. There is an innocence to the sound that you can hear even without any understanding of the music… I found this music when I was a kid and some twenty years later I am still reimagining to extend the implications I see within it. I reimagined Mozart ‘black’ in the tradition of Mr., [Alvin] Batiste, imbuing it with influences from jazz, rags, stride, blues, stomps but still maintaining its core essence of modern classical music."

Listeners familiar with Mozart will hear Mozartean melodies – and no, they will not be twisted into unrecognizable strings of notes – played in joyfully blues- and jazz-influenced styles. The opening Facile Batiste offers a brief but happy take on a familiar theme from Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 16, while the next two tracks offer a couple of different takes on the familiar “Turkish March” theme. And yes, as you may have guessed, we get to hear some playful variations on the famous “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” music (which may be the most widely played Mozart piece ever that never gets him name-checked, alas). On Molto, we hear Batiste’s fairly straightforward take on familiar music from Symphony No. 40, setting us up for the next track, Molto in Cayo Hueso, where Batiste cuts loose and adds a Latin groove, taking Mozart to a beach on Key West. At more than seven minutes, it’s the highlight of the album. The closing track, Gospel Andante, finds Batiste putting a gospel spin on the piano part from Piano Concerto No. 21, known to many as the “Elvira Madigan” music, bringing the album to a peaceful close.

All in all, Black Mozart is a release that should appeal to a wide spectrum of listeners – fans of classical, jazz, soul, R&B should all find it appealing. Although I wish Batiste would have given us more extensive liner note thought about his approach to the music he chose to include, I have no quibble with the recording itself. Highly recommended.

Soler Piano Works (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross 

Soler! Gerardo Teissonniére, pianist. Steinway & Sons 30242\

In my December writeup of Johan Dalene’s Mendelssohn and Bruch album, I noted how often my views diverge from those of other critics. Well, here we go again. I’m already seeing what I consider to be excessive enthusiasm for this disc. Either I am living in The Twilight Zone, or some folks aren’t listening that carefully. Forgive my candor (see what I did there?), but it does get lonely being the one to say the most negative things in Google search results. Nonetheless, I have to call it like I see it. My responsibility as a critic is reporting what I hear in the recording, rather than what I hear about the recording. If that puts me alone in a corner, so be it. Thus positioned, my regretful verdict is that Gerardo Teissonnière’s playing doesn’t match his obvious sincerity. The main culprits are rhythmic inconsistency and a mediocre tone. Let’s jump in.

 

First off, an admission: I was unfamiliar with Teissonnière’s work before taking on this review task. I would have sampled his other performances in any case, but now I had a pressing question: does he always play like this? Yes and no. His Schubert Impromptus show the occasional wobbly stretch, but nothing to rival a crass, even poundy approach to loud dynamics. His debut recording for Steinway, featuring Beethoven’s final three sonatas, also begins to tell the tale for this latest release. Teissonnière likes big, thick chords and thundering octaves. He’s even capable of an attractively soft tone, as his Opp. 109 and 110 prove. But his biggest weakness is a lack of rhythmic control, particularly in intricate passages.

 

Soler doesn’t offer many of the Romantic-style textures Teissonnière clearly relishes. This music tests the performer in other respects. Unfortunately, they expose Teissonnière’s vulnerabilities to a greater degree. Runs of quicker notes sometimes sound uneven. Simpler figurations fare better in this respect. But if there is a group of four 16th or 32nd notes, especially many in succession and with lots of concurrent activity in other voices, there is a decent chance he fudges the timing of at least one. The hand-crossing passages in the R. 84 D Major sound herky-jerky. Ditto the accompaniment to the tail motive of the R. 39 D Minor, and certain right-hand thirds in the same sonata. These stretches and others throughout seem insufficiently practiced even if they weren’t. Similar issues plague parts of R. 15. Tone quality is also a problem, as when some of the rapidly repeated notes get underplayed in R. 88.

 

The impression I get of Teissonnière’s playing overall is that of a strong but not elite talent trying to make the most of his gifts. There are many fine moments, but strain and inconsistency rear their heads nearly as often. Soler is not Beethoven or Schubert in terms of recording saturation. But there are several other available options for his sonatas, including a quality Naxos series. Best of all is Alicia de Larrocha, whose own selections partially overlap with Teissonnière’s. If comparing her performances to his doesn’t demonstrate at least some of what I said here, maybe I really am living in an alternate universe.

Recent Releases No. 83 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Dedications. Randall Woolf: going home; Pierre Jalbert: Two Sides – I. Freely, lyrical II. Propulsive, driving; David Del Tredici:  Farewell, R.W. (from Facts of Life); Bun-Ching Lam: Five Contemplations – I. Search Search II. Seek Seek III. Ennui IV. Wutang in Light Rain V. Let Go; João Luiz: MadrigAfro II: Part I – Curandeiro Part II - Movido, tempo de Afoxé; Laura Kaminsky: Ruminations; Carlos Crillo: Mariluna – 1. Reflejo de la luna sobre la superficie de el agua… 2. Y la mar se refleja en la luna; Marilyn Ziffrin: Rhapsody; Chester Biscardi: Finding Beauty in Small Places; Peter Sculthorpe: *Oh, T.I.! – I. Island Song II. Night Song. David Leisner, guitar; *w/Alan Moverman, piano. Azica Records ACD-71389

As you can see from the track listing above, the composers are all modern-day. Guitarist Leisner (b. 1953), who is also a composer himself, writes that during the COVID-19 pandemic, “artists, like everyone else, were struggling to find ways of being useful and keeping up their spirits. One idea that occurred to me was to create a series of commissions of solo guitar works by composers I greatly admire, who happen to be friends as well. Chester Biscardi, Pierre Jalbert, Laura Kaminsky, Bun-Ching Lam and João Luiz, an illustrious group, all responded enthusiastically and generously to my proposal.” He goes on to recount that there had been other pieces he had commissioned in previous years that he had not yet recorded, a piece by Marlyn Ziffrin that he had not commissioned but wished to record, and a movement from a piece by the late David Del Tredici that he desired to re-record. The album starts off promisingly with the opening going home by Randall Woolf, but listeners expecting much in the way of melodic or harmonic richness may find themselves feeling let down. Most of the compositions have a sparse sense about them, although that can be interesting in its own way, as in the compositions by Bun-Ching Lam, Laura Kaminsky, Marilyn Ziffrin, and Chester Biscardi. Adding the piano to the mix in the final Sculthorpe piece provides some welcome sonic richness. 

 

Vesper. Thomas Adès: Forgotten Dances; Harrison Birtwistle: Beyond the White Hand: Construction with Guitar Player; Guitar and White Hand; Adès: Habanera from ‘The Exterminating Angel’; Birtwistle: Oockooing Bird (arr. for guitar by Forbes Henderson); Sleep Song; Berceuse de Jeanne (arr. for guitar by Forbes Henderson); Sad Song (arr. for guitar by Forbes Henderson); Je sui aussi; James Dillon: 12 Caprices. Sean Shibe, guitar. PENTATONE PTC 5187 518

Sean Shibe (b. 1992), who was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, of English and Japanese parentage, is one of the world’s leading guitarists. Over the past several years we have reviewed several albums on which he has appeared as a contributor, plus one of his solo albums, Camino PENTATONE PTC 5186 670), about which we observed (you can read the full review here) “none of the playing here is overtly virtuosic or ostentatious; instead, Shibe employs his skills on the guitar to lead the listener gently into a sound world of calm and reflection that is not, however, devoid of energy and color.” But where Camino had featured music by composers such as Mompou, Satie, and Ravel, this new release titled Vesper features music by composers including Adès (b. 1971), Birtwistle (1934-2022), and Dillon (b. 1950) – when I saw those names, I must confess that I was not expecting to be led gently into a sound world of calm and reflection. My exposure to the music of Birtwistle and has been limited but unimpressive. I’ve never heard any music by Dillon. That leaves Adès, whose music I have encountered reasonably often over the past few years but have never really cared for. So, then – full disclosure: from the list of composers, I was not very optimistic about this release; however, this was a guitar album, not an orchestral album, and Sean Shibe is an amazing guitarist, so I was willing to try to put my prejudices aside and give it a good listen.

 

So, then – did I have a complete change of heart about these composers after spending many hours listening to Camino? Well, yes and no. The opening Forgotten Dances by Adès comprises six fascinating pieces that somehow manage to stretch the limits of what can be done on the guitar while at the same time alluding to traditional dance forms. It’s a delightful set, a little quirky but highly entertaining. It was a relief to be pleasantly surprised by Adès, but alas, such was not to be the case with Birtwistle. His Beyond the White Hand: Construction with Guitar Player; Guitar and White Hand sports the longest title on the album, the longest duration (18:26), but the least amount of melodic inspiration. It broods, meanders, and draws some thumps and bumps from the guitar – overall, it strikes me as a composition more interesting to play than enjoyable to hear. He much briefer (1:55) Guitar and White Hand comes as a kind of echo, easier on the ear, but without much substance. The Adès Habanera is forceful, giving Shibe quite a workout.

 

The mood changes with the next set of short selections by Birtwistle, which are much more melodic and easy on the ears than the White Hand music; really, folks, it’s hard to believe it’s the same composer. (And thus you can see why I wrote “yes and no” above.) As for composer James Dillon, his 12 Caprices, which are brief little snippets – the whole set coming in at 10:35 – the gentle mood established by the preceding Birtwistle set continues, although a tad more, well, capriciously. These are pieces that are at once playful and thoughtful. 

 

The booklet packaged with the CD contains a wealth of information about the composers and the music, plus a background narrative about the influential guitarist Julian Bream. PENTATONE has released a truly first-class production in Vesper, which earns a solid recommendation for fans of classical guitar. By the way, Sean Shibe did an NPR Tiny Desk concert at which he performed some of the music on this CD: you can find that video here. Enjoy!

Mozart & Beethoven Piano Concertos (CD Review)

 by Ryan Ross

Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 24 in C Minor, K. 491; Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Minor, Op. 37; 32 Variations in C Minor, WoO 80. Rafał Blechacz, pianist; Kent Nagano, conductor; Dresdner Philharmonie. DG 486 8940

While the most recent International Chopin Piano Competition was underway, I had a debate with other classical music fans on the app formerly known as Twitter. I remarked that all of the competition’s participants could technically run circles around Alfred Cortot, and that no amount of musicality overcomes my impatience with his messy playing. I received some hard pushback for these remarks, but remained trenchant. True, more than a few competition participants produced interpretations that were pristine yet soulless. But I thought I preferred this. “Just give me the music” I said, “and stay out of its way!”

 

I’m still something of a heretic for being allergic to Cortot’s pianism. But as I keep listening to and reviewing new recordings of standard repertoire, I’m gradually coming around to my debaters’ general point of view. You see, I’m getting bored with “pristine yet soulless.” I have heard multiple great recordings of both Mozart’s 24th Piano Concerto and Beethoven’s 3rd. Almost all of them are decades old. Many more recordings of both works have appeared since, even many technically excellent ones. But I’m afraid I cannot recall details in most of these. Rafał Blechacz’s new and nearly-pristine performances with Kent Nagano and the Dresden Philharmonic will likely belong to this second group.

 

Blechacz happens to have won the Chopin Competition more than two decades ago. Yeah, his skills are the envy of most pianists: flawless technique, impeccable control, and a sheeny polish overall. But “most pianists” isn’t “all pianists.” And when I listen to Blechacz here I’m faced with excellence that outpaces individuality. What can I get in these interpretations that I cannot get elsewhere? If this were the year 1900, probably quite a lot. But it’s 2026, and the world now teems with elite technicians.

 

Earlier, I said that Blechacz is nearly pristine in this recording. I stand by that, but there are still some drawbacks that only bolster my preference for other interpretations. The first mostly isn’t his fault: Nagano and the Dresden Philharmonic are at times too forceful in the Mozart. Tutti passages boom disproportionately to Blechacz’s comparatively subdued approach. Once or twice the orchestra moderately obscures the soloist where both play together. In short, I don’t think Blechacz and his supporting cast are precisely matched. The Beethoven concerto is better balanced, though even here I sense that Nagano wants to do more than his soloist. Which brings us to the second problem, and full circle to my initial statements: Blechacz doesn’t take any risks. At nearly every turn he declines to really lean into the music expressively. True, his reticence is often subtle, but subtleties weigh when I have umpteen other Op. 37 and WoO 80 takes to choose from. I need more fire than he’s prepared to supply, and there are plenty of other places where I can get it.

 

In past reviews I have emphasized a separation of purpose between live performances and recordings. Yes, record companies have bottom lines, and artists like lucrative deals. But the business of music often conflicts with less immediate concerns. Call me idealistic, but I happen to believe that what gets recorded should merit such preservation. It should also repay consumer investment. Frankly, I can’t muster related enthusiasm for this one. Performers like Blechacz are needed to share these works in person, foster communal joy and appreciation, and thereby keep the tradition alive. But apart from their desire to make nice livings, I see less value in every pianist committing standard rep to disc. If the riposte is that this release is a perfectly fine product for people to get to know these concerti, or to listen casually, I’ll concede the point. But how many more of those do we need? And when will diminishing returns finally force some sort of reckoning? 

James Brawn in Recital, Volume 3. Scarlatti: Sonatas – Ingenuity and Delight (CD Review)

 by Karl Nehring

Domenico Scarlatti: Sonata in D minor, K.1 ‘Toccata’; Sonata in D minor, K.9 ‘Pastorale’; Sonata in B minor, K.27; Sonata in D minor, K.32 ‘Aria’; Sonata in D minor, K.34 ‘Larghetto’; Sonata in D major, K.96 ‘La Caccia’; Sonata in D minor, K.141 ‘Toccata’; Sonata in A minor, K.149; Sonata in C major K.159 ‘La Caccia’; Sonata in A minor, K.175; Sonata in A major, K.208 ‘Cantabile’; Sonata in A major, K.209; Sonata in E minor, K.291; Sonata in A major, K.322; Sonata in B minor, K.377 ‘Bourée’;Sonata in E major, K.380 ‘Le Cortége’; Sonata in D major, K.430 ‘Un Ballo’; Sonata in F minor, K.466; Sonata in D major, K.491 ‘Le Cortége’; Sonata in C major, K.513 ‘Pastorale’; Sonata in E major, K.531 ‘Tarantella’; Allesandro Scarlatti: Sonata in D minor, ‘Arioso’. James Brawn, piano. MSR Classics MS 1829

Long-time followers of Classical Candor should be familiar with the English pianist James Brawn (b. 1971), who now resides in Shanghai. Over the years, we have covered his recordings of the complete Beethoven piano sonatas, which John Puccio, Bill Heck, and I have found praiseworthy for both their musical and sonic virtues (you can find examples of those reviews here, here, and here. In addition to his “Beethoven Odyssey” recordings, Brawn has also released two other recordings, both of which were reviewed by John Puccio: James Brawn in Recital, which featured Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition plus works by Bach, Bach-Busoni, Liszt, and Rachmaninoff (the review of that release can be found here) and James Brawn in Recital, Volume 2: The Time Traveller and His Muse, a 2-CD set that featured works by Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Gershwin, Grieg, Liszt, Mozart, Prokofiev, Rachmaninoff, Scarlatti, Schubert, and Scriabin (the review of which can be found here).

 

Travel in time more than a decade and we now have before us this most recent release in Brawn’s recital series, this one devoted to the music of Scarlatti, who was born in Naples in 1685, which makes him contemporaneous with Bach and Handel. In his CD booklet notes, Brawn includes a quotation from Scarlatti that explains where Brawn drew the inspiration for the “Ingenuity and Delight” subtitle for this release: “Do not expect, O Dilettante or Professor, whoever you may be, in these compositions any profound intention, but rather an ingenious jesting with art, to accustom you to the frankness of the harpsichord… Show yourself more human than critical, and so you will increase your own delight… Live happily.” (As an aside, I must say – with considerable delight – how personally I can relate to Scarlatti’s invitation as I reflect on how our own Ryan Ross, a learned professor of music, is a devoted fan of the Scarlatti sonatas, while I, a music lover but dilettante nonetheless, have come to love Scarlatti’s sonatas the more I have listened to them over the past few years. Yes, they truly have increased the delight of dilettante and professor alike, at least here at Classical Candor…)

 

Brawn writes of Scarlatti’s sonatas that they are “mostly single-movement works in binary form – compact, self-contained dramas full of musical contrasts. These pieces are not sketches or fragments, but fully formed miniatures: some wistful, others playful or bold. Together, they form a kaleidoscopic view of 18^th-century imagination, filtered through the sensibilities of one of its most original minds. Each sonata unfolds like a scene in a theatre – shifting in mood, surprising in character, sometimes masking complexity behind apparent simplicity. Their impact lies in their conciseness and immediacy. Rather than elaborate development, Scarlatti favors quick turns, sudden key changes, and textures that alternate between elegance and raw energy.” When I listen to the Scarlatti sonatas, I sometimes find myself comparing and contrasting them with some of Bach’s keyboard works (as I write this, many of my grandkids are getting ready to return to school, and thinking about comparing and contrasting takes me all the way back to junior high – now I guess they now call it “middle school” – English and History classes with their “compare and contrast” essays). They are similar in overall sound, but Bach sounds more structured, Scarlatti a bit looser. Bach can sound more formal, Scarlatti more casual. But my goodness, they both give so much pleasure, they are both such masters!

 

But for sheer entertainment – delight! – Scarlatti sets an incredibly high bar. Just stick this CD into your machine (or stream it, if you must), hit PLAY, and prepare to be delighted by the exuberant high spirits of the opening K.1 Toccata, a two-minute romp that will bring a smile to many a music lover’s face. Other highlights include the high-spirited K.96 ‘La Caccia,’ the gently melodic K.208 ‘Cantabile,’ the sprightly K.430 ‘Un Ballo,’ and the stately K.513 ‘Pastorale.’ Other listeners will doubtless discover other favorites, for the album is a musical treat from the first track to the last, captured in pristine sound quality. Highly recommended.

Schubert: Piano Sonata No. 17 in D Major, D. 850; Schumann: Kinderszenen (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Arcadi Volodos, pianist. Sony 19658879292

Schubert is one of my favorite composers. I adore almost all of his music. Almost. But I’m afraid the D. 850 sonata is one of very few works by him that leaves me indifferent. Sure, it’s grand in scope and impressively crafted, not to mention one of his more technically difficult entries in the genre. But I feel that the quality of its materials is below his usual standard. Compared to D. 664, D. 784, and the stupendous D. 958-D. 960 trio, it’s the affective runt of the litter. What’s so odd is you hear the harmonic surprises and turns of phrases that so enrich his more distinctive music, but they’re in service of themes that fail to land as hard emotionally. What would be one of the stronger works by Dussek or Moscheles is for Schubert an expressive low point, however structurally ambitious.

 

Which makes reviewing recordings of it difficult for me. When listening, I have to keep my mind from wandering. But I know plenty of enthusiasts somehow swear by this sonata, so I buckled down and did my homework. Arcadi Volodos is an excellent pianist who is capable of compelling interpretations. What I look for in any Schubert performance is a versatility that captures his many different moods, from melancholy to glowing intimacy to moments of joy that arrive like sunbeams through the clouds. Known for his big, bright sound, Volodos is unsurprisingly more than equal to the first movement’s technical brilliance. (Indeed, I often sense his virtuosity testing the sonata’s seams.) What impresses me more, however, is his adoption of a plaintive sotto voce in the slow movement and in later passages. Overall, I think I still prefer superlative accounts by Kempff (DG 423 496-2) and Gilels (RCA 09026 61614 2), who traverse an ineffable extra inch and natively inhabit subtle shades of introspection. But while I’m a D. 850 agnostic, I feel confident recommending this performance as a generally strong alternative to more celebrated picks.

 

The competition stiffens with Schumann’s Kinderszenen. Perhaps consequently, Volodos’s interpretation slightly comes off as a good one trying to be great. True, he churns out some quality playing. His Nos. 2, 3, and 10 I found particularly strong, despite wearing a deliberation that is more cumbersome elsewhere. But I hear plenty of dynamic and articulative peccadillos that Volodos might mistake for artistic risks. In multiple places there is good piano-versus-pianissimo shading from one area to another (for example in Nos. 4, 7, and 12), but in others not (as in No. 11). More bothersome is when he ignores or under-observes these markings. The second section of No. 1 is too loud for piano, and ditto the opening chords of No. 13. The Schneller section of 11 is too loud for an indicated pianissimo throughout. Sometimes crescendos get mangled, as when the apex notes of the same No. 13’s opening chords (marked with that sign) are withheld dynamically. Other lapses include: a failure to fully execute marked slurring in No. 8, occasionally accenting first beats rather than last ones in No. 9, and playing the tied chord in the seventh measure of No. 13 staccato instead of maintaining its full written duration.

 

I should cut Volodos some slack, this being a live recording. As far as those go, the sound quality here is fantastic despite a brief crashing noise marring No. 13 at 1:15. Otherwise I had to remind myself this isn’t a studio disc, which I suppose is a testament to stellar engineering. The flip side is that the performance itself is more suited to a live concert. Which doesn’t make it a bad recorded interpretation, but I believe its misses (or liberties) better suit the stage. On CD they make it a few notches below the best. Volodos clearly attempts special moments – and sometimes succeeds. If he doesn’t quite have the same poetry for Kinderszenen as a Radu Lupu (Decca 440 496-2) or an Ivan Moravec (Supraphon 11-0359-2), who does? But there is enough interest across the entirety to justify storage space in most collections. Even the collection of an Imperfect 850-ite like me.