Miloš Baroque (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Scarlatti: Sonata in D Minor, K. 32 (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin); Vivaldi: Concerto No. 2 in G Minor, RV 439 “La Notte”: VI. Allegro (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*; Rameau: The Arts and the Hours (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin); Handel: Suite in B‐Flat Major, HWV 434: IV. Menuet (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin); Vivaldi: Concerto in B Minor, RV 580: I. Allegro (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*; Silvius Leopold Weiss: Passacaglia; Scarlatti: Sonata in F Minor, K. 466 (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin); Vivaldi: Concerto in B Minor, RV 580: III. Allegro (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin)*; Bach: Partita No. 2 in D Major, BWV 1004: Chaconne (arr. for Guitar); Alessandro Marcello: Concerto in D Minor: II. Adagio (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*; Boccherini: Quintet No. 4 in D Major, G 448: IV. Fandango (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*; Weiss: Fantasie; Couperin: Les Barricades mystérieuses (arr. for Guitar); Vivaldi: Trio Sonata in C Major, RV 82: II. Larghetto (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*. Miloš Karadaglić, guitar; *Arcangelo, directed by Jonathan Cohen. Sony Classical 19658822942

Classical guitarist Miloš Karadaglić (b. 1983), known professionally by his first name, Miloš, (sorry, but I can’t help but think of the inept tennis pro from Seinfeld) was born in Montenegro but now lives in England. He has released a number of albums, several of which have been reviewed here at Classical Candor. Back in 2011, John Puccio reviewed his album Mediterraneo, which, as you might guess from the title, included music by Mediterranean composers such as Albeniz, Tarrega, and Granados, along with some lesser-known names (you can find that review here). A year later, John reviewed the young guitarist’s next album, Pasio, which featured music from Latin America by tango master Astor Piazzolla and others (that review can be seen here). In 2014, John gave a listen to Miloš’s recording of Rodrigo’s touchstone guitar concerto, a piece that has been recorded by nearly every classical guitarist of note (Concierto de Aranjuez review here). Then in 2021, I reviewed a release titled The Moon and the Forest, wherein Miloš performs guitar concertos by contemporary composers Jody Talbot and Howard Shore (see that review here), concertos that he believes young listeners who have heard and enjoyed the Rodrigo will also find enjoyable.

On his newest album on the Sony Classics label, Miloš turns his attention to the Baroque period, bringing us music from Bach, Boccherini, Vivaldi, and others, some on solo guitar, some accompanied by the Arcangelo chamber orchestra. Miloš opines in the liner notes that “the Baroque age is a wonderful, mysterious, and exceptionally exciting period. At the same time the Baroque is the starting point for the way in which musical history went on to develop… I find it extraordinarily exciting to carry over into my music making the contrasts between light and shade that left their mark on Baroque art. This aspect emerges, for example, from the often abrupt shifts and the sudden interplay between solo instrument and orchestra. For me as a guitarist, there is something special about immersing myself in this music because it represents a completely different world from the one with which my instrument is traditionally associated.”

 

Once again we find a recording that has been shaped in some measure by the COVID-19 pandemic. Although Miloš had begun his preparations for this album before the advent of the virus, its emergence and resultant cancellation of touring and other normal activities allowed him to increase his efforts. “While the rest of the world was holding its breath and came to a standstill, I found that for me it was a time when I felt even more inspired than usual,” he recounts.  The album is generally arranged in a way that highlights the dynamic shadings that Miloš mentions. For example, the program opens with the restrained Scarlatti sonata, which Miloš plays on his solo guitar, but then the next selection, a movement from a Vivaldi concerto, ramps up the energy as Miloš’s guitar is joined by the strings of the chamber ensemble Arcangelo (which is, by the way, based in the UK), and then we are back to a more reflective solo guitar piece, an arrangement of Rameau’s The Arts and the Hours. It was hearing Icelandic pianist Vikingur Olafsson’s arrangement (you can see him playing it here) on his Debussy-Rameau album (see my review here) that introduced me to this music, which I found enchanting; hearing it again in a different arrangement on a different instrument has been another charming experience. 

The whole album is wonderfully entertaining, full of nothing less than refined music making. Two more cuts that really captured my fancy were the Weiss Fantasie, from a composer previously unknown to me and the Couperin Les Barricades mystérieuses, a piece with which I was previously familiar from hearing it played on piano recordings by Simone Dinnerstein (see review here) and Khatia Buniatushvili (see review here). Once again, Miloš makes both these pieces come to life from the strings of his guitar. Truth be told, the whole album is full of life; it is truly one of those releases that should appeal to a broad spectrum of music lovers. 

Recent Releases No. 56 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Zygmunt Noskowski: Symphony No. 1 in A major; Symphony No. 2 in C minor, “Elegiac.” Deutsche Staatsphilharmonie Rheinland-Pfalz; Antoni Wit, conductor. Capriccio C5509.

Once again we have the exquisite pleasure of discovering worthwhile music by a composer whose name had been completely unknown to us (and probably many other music lovers) until now. It turns out that the relatively unknown Polish composer Zygmunt Noskowski (1846-1909) was a teacher of Szymanowski and student of Moniuszko, and for much of the 19th century was the primary exponent of contemporary symphonic music in Poland. In fact, Noskowski is considered to be one of the most significant Polish composers of the nineteenth century, one who produced successful output in nearly all musical genres: ballet, opera, sacred works, symphonies, symphonic poems, and smaller works (including works for children), especially for piano. As if that was not enough to occupy his time, he also pursued a parallel career as a music critic and journalist. 

 

As a conductor and concert organizer, Noskowski (left) championed the causes of forgotten Polish composers. Today, in a fitting turn of events, conductor Antoni Wit (with a distinguished recorded legacy of his own), who in fact  succeeded Noskowski at the helm of the Warsaw Philharmonic 94 years after Noskowski’s retirement, raises the profile of his late-Romantic colleague with this recording of his first two symphonies. So what do they sound like? Actually, they are quite enjoyable; in my own clumsy, inadequate way, I would describe them as sounding something like Schumann, but better orchestrated, richer in texture, and more satisfying both musically and emotionally.  Listening to them, I found myself surprised that I had never heard them before – and I am hardly a young man. This is music that deserves to be heard by a composer who certainly deserves to be heard. To that end, I give this new release my most enthusiastic recommendation.

 

The Blue Album. Satie: Gymnopédie No. 1; Couperin: Les baricades mistérieuses (from Pièces de clavecin II: Ordre 6ème in B flat); Glass: Orphée's Bedroom; Brouwer: Canción de Cuna; Debussy: Suite bergamasque - Clair de lune (arr. for guitar by Eduardo Sáinz de la Maza); Weiss: Passacaille; Satie: Gnossienne No. 1 (arr. for Guitar by Pedro Henriques da Silva); Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonata K32 in D minor (transcr. for guitar); Sor: Etude for guitar, Op. 6, No. 11 in E minor; Max Richter: A Catalogue of Afternoons; Debussy: La fille aux cheveux de lin (from Préludes - Book 1: No. 8); Yradier: La Paloma (arr. for guitar by Francisco Tárrega); Myers: Cavatina (from The Deerhunter, arr. for guitar by John Williams); Sakamoto: Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence. Pablo Sainz-Villegas, guitar. Sony Classical 19658779092

 

The Spanish classical guitarist Pablo Sainz-Villegas (b. 1977) writes in the liner notes for The Blue Album that it “brings together some of the most beautiful and most heartfelt melodies that have ever been written. All these pieces create a magical atmosphere, their colours create a mood, a mystery. The guitar whispers an invitation to the listener to explore and go to the most intimate part of your soul. It creates a moment to look inside and have a conversation with the essence of yourself.” Now, that might strike some music lovers as a bit over the top, at least in terms of the feel-good pop psychology flavor of the prose, but all I can say is that Sainz-Villegas has pulled together a remarkable program of music by composers from different eras and countries, music that is soothing but not saccharine. From music by composers you might expect to find given the guitarist’s description, such as the pieces by French composers Debussy and Satie (you can watch a video of him playing Satie here), there is also music ranging from long-ago composers such as Couperin and Scarlatti to contemporary composers such as Philp Glass and Max Richter. As Sainz-Villegas puts it, “The Blue Album is a collection of musical works from different periods, composers and aesthetics that coexist and talk to each other in a space of calm and peace.” Listening to the album does indeed bring to the listener a sense of calm and peace. But there is real musical substance here, not New Age strumming. This is serious music: seriously performed and seriously recommended.  

Simone Dinnerstein: Undersong (CD review)

Piano music by Couperin, Schumann, Glass, and Satie. Simone Dinnerstein, piano. Orange Mountain Music 0156.

By John J. Puccio and Karl W. Nehring

The music according to John:

As you probably know, American classical pianist Simone Dinnerstein loves to do theme albums. The titles alone give you the idea: An American Mosaic, A Character of Quiet, Bach: Strange Beauty, Mozart in Havana, Something Almost Being Said, Night, Bach Re-Invented, Broadway - Lafayette, and now Undersong. Of course, she has done more traditional albums as well, like Bach’s Goldberg Variations and Inventions and Sinfonias, and Beethoven’s Complete Works for Piano and Cello (with cellist Zuill Bailey). But lately, as her name and fame have grown, she has increasingly pursued theme albums.

Undersong is a term I was unfamiliar with, so I looked it up. The Free Dictionary calls it “an accompanying secondary melody”; or “a nuanced meaning.” Merriam-Webster says it’s “a subordinate melody or part; especially, a droning accompaniment or undertone. A refrain.” Ms. Dinnerstein apparently goes with “refrain.” As she says, “Couperin, Schumann, Glass, and Satie constantly revisit the same material, worrying at, shifting it to different harmonies and into different rhythmic shapes. Working with this music in the fall of 2020 was a constant reminder that in my afternoon walk in the Green-wood Cemetery, I was quite literally treading a familiar path every day, a path that nonetheless had changed almost imperceptibly every time I left the house.” Thus, we have the shifting, sometimes hidden texts of these musical pieces with refrains. The whole idea may seem a bit morose (starting with Ms. Dinnerstein’s black-and-white cover photo surrounded by tombstones and looking for all the world like Morticia Addams), but, then, the whole pandemic has been a pretty morose experience.

Nevertheless, whether or not you buy into the slightly murky spirit of the “undersong” business, you can’t deny that Ms. Dinnerstein’s handling of the material is thoughtful, emotional yet restrained, and unfailingly sensitive. Thus informed, we begin with Les Barricades Mysterieuses (“The Mysterious Barricades”) that the French Baroque composer Francois Couperin wrote in 1717. Like its title, the music is evocative, and Ms. Dinnerstein makes the most of it.

Next is an equally famous piece, Arabesque, Op. 18, written by Robert Schumann in 1839. The composer wrote it during a particularly stormy period of his life during which his future wife Clara’s father wanted no part of him as a son-in-law. The music reflects these turbulent yet tender times, and Ms. Dinnerstein adds her own affectionate touch and occasional barb.

Philip Glass comes after that with his solo piano work, Mad Rush (1979). Ms. Dinnerstein describes the music of the disc as the kind to get lost in, and that’s no better expressed than in the Glass piece. It’s kind of looking-glass music (pun intended) with ripples and reflections of all sorts. Ms. Dinnerstein’s gentle yet firm approach has us drifting through a kaleidoscope of musical colors.

Then we get more from Couperin, Tic Toc Choc, a whimsical representation of the rhythms of a clock. Given its eighteenth-century origins, the piece sounds surprisingly modern in Ms. Dinnerstein’s hands.

Then, there’s Gnossienne No. 3 by French composer Erik Satie (1888). “Gnossienne” was a word Satie invented, probably to remind listeners of “gnostic” or spiritual knowledge or maybe of “gnossus” from ancient Crete. Whatever, it is intensely mystical and contemplative.

The program’s penultimate work is the longest, Schumann’s Kreisleriana, a selection of eight movements for solo piano (1838). Schumann regarded it as his favorite work. Here, Ms. Dinnerstein lets her hair down, so to speak, pursuing the sometimes tempestuous, sometimes tranquil segments with equally warmhearted vigor.

Ms. Dinnerstein concludes the disc, appropriately, with a refrain: Couperin’s Les Barricades Redux.

Adam Abeshouse produced and engineered the album, which he recorded in Ms. Dinnerstein’s home in Brooklyn, NY in November 2020. The piano, recorded somewhat closely, sounds honeyed and mellow, with a warm, rich quality that greatly complements the music. Then, too, a mildly resonant acoustic also contributes to the disc’s pleasures.

JJP

The music according to Karl:

American pianist Simone Dinnerstein (b. 1972) first came to my attention and to the attention of many, many others, as it would soon turn out back in 2007 when her recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations was released on the Telarc label. It was a splendid recording for which I wrote an enthusiastic review in The $ensible Sound. The album shot to the top of Billboard’s classical CD best-sellers list. I’d love to say that its success was in part attributable to my review, but I have every confidence that the good readers of Classical Candor are nowhere near so gullible as to believe such blatant blather. Fast-forward 15 years and I find myself once again reviewing a recording by Ms. Dinnerstein, who has been busy during the pandemic, as Undersong is her third made during this trying time. Isolation can have some compensations for those prepared to make the best of their particular talents and opportunities, and Ms. Dinnerstein has certainly used her talents and opportunities to produce another splendid recording. In her brief liner note, she writes that “all of the music on this album consists of musical forms that have a refrain. Glass, Schumann, Couperin, and Satie constantly revisit the same material in these pieces, shifting it to different harmonies and into different rhythmic shapes. Undersong is an archaic term for a song with a refrain, and to me it also suggests a hidden text. Glass, Schumann, Couperin and Satie all seem to be attempting to find what they want to say through repetition, as though their constant change and recycling will focus the ear and the mind. This is music to get lost in.” She goes on to compare that repetition to her daily afternoon walk through Green-wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, where she treads the same path day after day (the B&W cover photo features her posing there on the cemetery path).

Despite that talk of solitary cemetery strolls, the music she has chosen is not morose. The piece by Francois Couperin that opens and closes the album is ruminative, though. Indeed, it would seem that framing the album this way is evidence of a deft artistic touch, the pianist’s way of communicating that she intending her program to be understood as a framed musical composition that she has put together purposefully, beginning and ending a musical journey with something on her mind. Besides, Les Barricades Mysterieuses is an entrancing composition, well worth hearing played twice, ever so slightly slowly to finish the program. Between those opening and closing tunes, there is a varied program that spans the centuries. Following the opening Couperin, Schumann’s Arabesque seems somehow to sustain a  similar feeling despite being dissimilar in style. The pace then picks up as Dinnerstein leans into the pulsing rhythms of Philip Glass’s Mad Rush. I know there are some who are wary of anything by Glass, but to my ears at least, his piano music represents some of the best of his output, and Mad Rush is an excellent piece that sounds perfectly placed in this program. After a brief bon-bon from Couperin, we then come to the longest composition, taking up more than half the time on the CD, Schumann’s Kreisleriana, which consists of eight sections. The music and the mood here are certainly different from the Glass, the Satie, or even the other Schumann, but I quibble. Others may find it more perfectly blended in than did I. My only other quibble is with the liner notes, which are quite brief. It would have been rewarding to have some more insight from Ms. Dinnerstein as to how she came to choose the particular composers and compositions and why she presented them in the order she chose for her program. Still, when you come down to it, this is a really nice release, with a well-played, well-recorded, and thoughtfully chosen program -- music to get lost in.

KWN

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

Recent Releases, No. 20 (CD Reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

Americascapes: Loeffler: La Mort de Tintagiles, Op. 6; Ruggles: Evocations (Orchestral version, 1943); Hanson: Before the Dawn, Op. 17; Cowell: Variations for Orchestra. Delphine Dupuy, viola d’amore; Robert Trevino, Basque National Orchestra. Ondine ODE 1396-2.

It is always exciting to come across a new release that features a program of unfamiliar music by composers you have heard of although you have heard very little of their music. It is even more exciting when it turns out to be as delightful a disc as this new Ondine release of American music played by a Spanish orchestra led by American conductor Robert Trevino (b. 1984). The program opens with the longest composition (25:48) on the CD, La Mort de Tintagiles by Charles Martin Loeffler (1861-1935). The piece is subtitled Poeme dramatique, d’apres le drame de M. Maeterlinck (“dramatic poem after the drama by M. Maeterlinck”). Loeffler, by the way, was actually born in Berlin, but settled in the United States in 1982, joining the recently formed Boston Symphony Orchestra as a violinist and becoming an American citizen in 1887. According to the liner notes by noted music critic Tim Page, “Loeffler seems to have had a fondness for near-concertos… In The Death of Tintagiles (1897), presented here, the viola d’amore takes center stage. Tintagiles is a discursive tone poem, inspired by a very strange play for marionettes by Maurice Maeterlinck about a wicked queen who murders an entire family, one by one. It is orchestrated in a manner that is both brilliant and subdued -- imagine Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherezade as it might have been rewritten by Gabriel Faure and you’ll have the general idea.” I must admit that it is hard to imagine that this charming music has anything to do with a family being murdered. Although there are some dramatic moments punctuated by some whacks on the bass drum, for the most part the music is lovely and flowing. And for me, although the lovely sound of the viola d’amore (a stringed instrument about the size of a viola, but with six bowed strings plus additional sympathetic strings arrayed below them) does take the lead from time to time, to describe this piece as a “near-concerto” seems to be quite a stretch. In any event, it is an attractive piece that gets the program off to an engaging start.

Next up is the orchestral version (a solo piano version also exists, which Ruggles continued to revise from 1934 to 1953) of Evocations by Carl Ruggles (1876-1971), whom Page characterizes as “notoriously salty.” Classical music fans of a certain age probably best remember Ruggles – at least by name – from an old DG recording featuring a young Michael Tilson Thomas leading the Boston Symphony Orchestra in a program that included Ruggles’s intriguingly titled composition Sun Treader along with Three Places in New England by Charles Ives. I can’t imagine that LP was ever a big seller, but for a time I could swear I seemed to see it everywhere I went. Perhaps the striking cover prompted record stores (remember them?) to display it prominently. At any rate, Evocations is a short piece (10:13) in four brief movements, sounding more modern than the Loeffler – chunky, assertive, enigmatic perhaps (particularly the ambiguous, atonal ending) but no, not salty. Mildly challenging though it might be, Evocations remains quite listenable and ultimately enjoyable, fully worthy of its place in the program.

Then comes the world premiere recording of a brief (6:44) symphonic poem by a young Howard Hanson (1896-1981) titled Before the Dawn, which he composed in 1921. Following the atonal, ambiguous-sounding ending of the Ruggles piece, the opening measures of Before the Dawn offer a striking a change of mood, immediately giving off that lush, sweeping, romantic, what strikes these ears anyway as “movie soundtrack vibe” that characterizes much of Hanson’s orchestral output. I do not mean that as snarky criticism; in fact, I find much of his music –including Before the Dawn – highly enjoyable, but Hanson has a signature sound that reminds me of film music – quality film music, that is. I find Page’s summation quite apt: “It seems that Hanson may have considered Before the Dawn juvenilia, for he could certainly have performed and recorded the work had he wanted to. Yet it is engaging from the start, filled with rich melodies, and sumptuously orchestrated in the style that Hanson would make his own over a career that would span six decades.” Amen to that! It is an engaging, sumptuously orchestrated little composition.

As good as the disc has been so far, with three unfamiliar but rewarding pieces expertly performed and recorded, the folks who put this program together have saved the best for last. Variations for Orchestra by Henry Cowell (1897-1965) is a delight from start to finish. The orchestra gets put through its paces, with passages of tender beauty from the strings followed at times by outbursts from the percussion. The music is sometimes exuberant and playful, at other times giving off a hint of mystery. Seemingly everyone in the orchestra gets a chance to shine over the 19:23 duration of the piece, and the Basque forces do themselves proud. It seems hard to believe that in all my years of listening, I have never before encountered a recording of this composition, which can hold its own right up there alongside, for example, Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra. (It has in fact been recorded before, but never by a major ensemble on a major label, and certainly nowhere remotely near the frequency accorded recordings of the Bartok.) This, folks, is a composition to which you really ought to give an audition. Where has it been hiding?

Besides the booklet notes from Tim Page, there are also notes by conductor Robert Trevino. The engineering is first-class, the orchestra plays with finesse, the program is imaginative and rewarding – what’s not to like? Hats off to a Finnish label for recording a Mexican-American conductor leading a Spanish orchestra in a revealing program of rarely-heard American music deserving much wider recognition. Bravo!

Last Song. Louis Couperin (1626-1661): Unmeasured Prelude (arr. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir & Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir);Atli Heimir Sveinsson (1938-2019): Three Marian Prayers (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714-1787): Melodie (arr. Fritz Kreisler); Jórunn Viðar (1918-2017): Icelandic Suite; Ole Bull (1810-1880) Ensomme Stunde (arr. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir);  Jules Massenet (1842-1912): Meditation; Karólína Eiríksdóttir (b. 1951): Winter; Magnús Blöndal Jóhannsson (1925-2005): In a Dream; Lullaby; Couperin: Aubade Provencale (arr. Fritz Kreisler);  Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643): Ave Maria; Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179): Anima Processional; Una Sveinbjarnardóttir (b. 1975): Last Song before the News. Una Sveinbjarnardóttir, violin; Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir, piano, prepared piano, toy piano. Sono Luminus DSL-92248.

Well, I see no need to beat around the bush on this one. I could easily make this review shorter than the listing of compositions above by simply stating that Last Song is the finest, most entertaining, thoughtfully assembled, artfully performed, and skillfully engineered recording of music for violin and piano that I have heard in many years. But because I get paid by the word, I will continue.

I received this CD a few months ago but somehow absentmindedly placed it atop a stack of older CDs that have been just sitting there unplayed for quite some time off to the side of my listening room. It was pretty much dumb luck that caused me to notice it sitting there, but as soon as I realized what it was, I felt so guilty and guilty that I immediately stuck it in my CD player without so much as a glance at the program. All I knew is that it was by a couple of Icelandic women, which I could infer from the names on the cover. But as I started listening, I knew this was, despite its rather drab cover, a truly special recording, and I soon dove into the liner notes to see what light they might be able to shed on the players and the program. There are some one-page biographical sketches of both musicians, plus some brief commentary on the composers and music by violinist and composer Una Sveinbjarnardóttir. As you can easily see from the header above, the music spans the centuries and includes compositions both familiar and unfamiliar. Yet from these two skilled musicians, the program feels like an organic, inevitable whole. The occasional use of the prepared and toy piano in place of the normal piano adds variety to the sound, but never sounds as though it is being used as some sort of special effect.

Violinist Sveinbjarnardóttir explains the program in her brief introductory essay: “ Last Song before the News. The project is inspired by the moment before the realization of something that drastically changes your life, the moment of just being, existing in the moment. That moment in time is free and full, mindfulness-ish and unaffected by misery, sorrow, regret, shame, anxiety and depression. In my mind it is bright and has a sense of nostalgia. The title also refers to a daily tradition on Icelandic radio Rás 1, where a song, “last song before the news” would be played just before the news hour at noon. The song would typically be an Icelandic one, sometimes a lullaby, a love song or an ode to scary and gorgeous nature. Or an Icelandic traditional, sometimes an Italian canzone or a Scandinavian sorrow. Jórunn Viðar’s piece Icelandic Suite sums up all these elements, a piece written for the 2000 years anniversary of inhabitation in Iceland in 1974. The lightness and the longing are with us throughout the program except in the title piece of mine, Last Song before the News, where apocalyptic visions are awfully obvious and take over early on.”

Just to be clear, no, I don’t actually get paid by the word. I was just being silly. In fact, I don’t get paid at all. But when I say this is a remarkable recording, well, you can take that to the bank.

The News: Andrew Cyrille Quartet (Andrew Cyrille, drums; Bill Frisell, guitar; David Virelles, piano, synthesizer; Ben Street, double bass). ECM 2681.

Veteran drummer Andrew Cyrille plays with a delicate touch that sets the tone for this talented quartet, who make a strong case on this recording for the idea of jazz as a form of chamber music. Guitarist Frisell brings a similarly light touch to his guitar stylings, playing with his usual loopy lines but with a lighter, softer tone than usual. All four musicians seem to be listening closely to each other, striving to play harmoniously together. Those looking for solo fireworks will not find them here; rather, they will find creative interplay. One piece that stands out as different from the rest is the title cut, “The News,” which sounds restless, unsettled, and aggressive – and then a few brief spoken words by Cyrille put everything in context. I won’t spoil the surprise; you’ll have to listen for yourself to see what I mean. The title of another cut seems to describe perfectly the vibe of the album as a whole: “Dance of the Nuances.”

KWN

Couperin: Concerts Royaux (CD review)

Christophe Rousset, Les Talens Lyriques. Aparte Music AP196.

I'm only guessing here, but if you're a typical classical-music fan, you probably recognize the name Francois Couperin (1668-1733), the French Baroque composer, organist, harpsichordist, and probably most famous member of the musically talented Couperin family. What you may not be able to do, however, is name a few of his compositions or whistle a couple of tunes he wrote. Which is why a recording like this one, "Concerts Royaux," from Christophe Rousset and members of his Les Talens ensemble comes in handy.

Yes, the composer is mainly known today for his keyboard works, but he wrote a number of pieces for chamber groups and various combinations of instruments. Couperin, being worried about so many inaccurate copies of his works that were circulating, decided to publish them himself, which he did between 1722-1728. He published "Concerts Royaux," the first of five volumes, in 1722, and they included the music on the current disc.

The title, "Royal Concerts," derives from their being written for King Louis XIV and comprise four harpsichord suites originally composed in 1714-1715 and played at the royal court. Couperin also left notes indicating that the instrumentation could be left to the musicians' discretion. Nor did the composer intend these pieces as true suites, but rather as collections of individual works put together according to his mood at the time. So, these days there is plenty of room for experimentation regarding the instruments in play.

Christophe Rousset

Les Talens Lyriques employ the talents of Stephanie-Marie Degand, violin; Georges Barthel, flute; Patrick Beaugiraud, oboes; Atsushi Sakai,viola de gamba; and Christophe Rousset, founder and leader of the group, which often utilizes up to several dozen players, on harpsichord. Couperin gives us the names of the musicians who performed with him, and they were among the best in the field at that time. So today's musicians have a lot to live up to, and Rousset's players are up to the task.

Couperin assembled the four suites from preludes, airs, and mainly dances, allemandes, sarabandes, gavottes, gigues, minuets, courantes, chaconnes, forlanes, and the like. What's more, most of the dances were of the slow, stately type, so the music is largely comfortable and relaxing, if not a tad melancholy. This might, though, be a relief from the many hurried, sometimes helter-skelter baroque compositions we often encounter. Rousset and his crew present each suite with a healthy dose of grace, polish, and restraint.

Of the four suites, the booklet writer, Erik Kocevar, says the fourth is "without a doubt the finest of the four, and the most consistent in the quality of its parts." I would agree. The fourth suite displays the greatest variety, imagination, and refinement of the four. Nonetheless, for that matter, I doubt I could remember one suite from the other if I listened to them again a few minutes apart. While they are pleasantly attractive, there is a sameness about them that probably only makes them distinguishable to Couperin or Baroque connoisseurs. Kind of like what all of our grandparents said about pop music.

Be aware that despite the disc containing four separate suites of music of five to seven movements each, the movements themselves are quite short, the longest being about four minutes, the others two or three minutes. Thus, the entire running time of the album is less than an hour. Not that I would pose any objection. To have packed it out with miscellaneous Couperin items simply for the sake of filling out the disc space might have been distracting.

Producer Clement Rousset and engineers Clement Rousset and Thimothee Langlois with the studio Little Tribeca recorded the music at Eglise Evangelique Lutherienne Saint-Pierre, Paris in December 2015. The sound appears a bit close, yet it's warm and round, too. Individual instruments show good detail and the ensemble a modicum of depth, although there being so few instruments it really doesn't much matter. Definition is, as I say, good and projects a clean presence. Low notes are a little on the woolly side but highs sparkle, so overall definition is fine. Nor is the harpsichord always noticeable, but, then, I've never heard this group in a concert performance, so what do I know? Certainly, the music is easy on the ears.

JJP

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

Bach's Circle (CD review)

Music of J.S. & J.C.F. Bach, Telemann, and Couperin. Allan Vogel, oboe; Janice Tipton, flute; Patricia Mabee, harpsichord, Mark Chatfield, viola da gamba; Nancy Sartain, continuo harpsichord. Delos DE 3214.

Oboist Allan Vogel reminds us in his booklet essay that, "In his mature years, Johann Sebastian Bach's circle of family, friends, students and colleagues was a large one. Bach was known to be a hospitable man who would often have concerts for this extended family in his home. Such a concert is the inspiration for this recording."

Of course, Bach may not have had Couperin in his own house, but his influence on Bach's work would have been considerable. Telemann, on the other hand, was the godfather to one of Bach's sons, so his impact was both personal and musical.

Anyway, the present disc begins with Telemann's Trio Sonata in E-flat Major and then goes on to Bach's Sonata in G Minor, BWV 1020, and Sonata in G Minor, BWV 1030b, the former much simpler and shorter than the more elaborate later work. The centerpiece of the program is Couperin's Concert Royal No. 4 in E Minor, an elegant set of dances; and the concluding work is son J.C.F. Bach's Sonata in C Major, the blithest and merriest of the sonatas, which makes a fitting conclusion to the agenda.

Allan Vogel

Allan Vogel is among the country's leading oboe players (and former Principal Oboe of the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra). Here, he amply demonstrates his skills with delicate and graceful solo passages, particularly charming in the C Major Sonata where he plays a lighter, sweeter-sounding oboe d'amore. The small ensemble--Vogel, oboe; Janice Tipton, flute; Patricia Mabee, harpsichord, Mark Chatfield, viola da gamba; and Nancy Sartain, continuo harpsichord--play with ease and precision, always displaying a charming interaction and an effortless control.

I had not heard a Delos recording of chamber music before this one, released in 1998, and I was impressed by the clarity and definition the engineers brought to the sound, without sacrificing much in the way of natural room acoustics. They recorded the group a bit close for my taste, it's true, and the imaging does not allow for much front-to-back perspective (not that that matters so much with so few players), but other than that it is fairly realistic.

This is the kind of album that makes for either undivided primary listening or relaxing background music. Seems almost a shame, though, to waste it on background alone.

JJP

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