Holst: The Planets; Bax: Tintagel (Streaming Review)

by Ryan Ross

Antonio Pappano, conductor; London Symphony Orchestra. LSO Live 0904

The London Symphony Orchestra's commitment to British repertoire continues apace, with these two 2024 live Barbican performances led by chief conductor Antonio Pappano. They pair an established favorite (Holst's The Planets) with a work that deserves equal love (Bax's Tintagel). My provisional opinion of Pappano is that he is a fine if somewhat inconsistent conductor, so I was curious how he'd handle this duo. I’d say he comes just under my benchmark. Here's a good and not a great Planets, followed by a mediocre rather than good Tintagel.

 

The best things about this Planets are superb recorded sound and what it does for Pappano’s handling of the numinous passages. Delicate timbres in Mercury, Saturn, and Neptune, for instance, sparkle with radiant mystery. Here is an object lesson in what’s possible when technology, orchestral skill, and conductor sensitivity work together effectively. If there were nothing more to The Planets, this would rate among its top recordings. Unfortunately for Pappano, there is. The extravert sides of this masterpiece are both more iconic and exactly where he comes up short. The marches in Jupiter and Uranus feel sluggish, with the Thaxted tune missing that last bit of earnestness. Mars is bright enough, but its aggression is blunted by a slowish main pace and positively languid middle portions. Especially regrettable is a dimmed lyrical brass when the outer sections turn to major-mode affirmation. This should sound much more battle-lusty. “Mars the Bringer of Peace Talks” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

 

Before I go any further, I’ll confess to being a committed Baxian. This composer definitely got the short end of the historiographical stick. The same modernist snobbery that bit Vaughan Williams’s reception hard following his death doomed the once-prominent Arnold Bax to a marginality from which he’s never re-emerged. To the extent his name has been kept alive it’s thanks significantly to Tintagel, of which there are now well more than a dozen recordings. There should be even more. With perhaps 2-3 of Bax’s other tone poems, it’s some of the most compelling music to come out of Britain. If a revival of his oeuvre is still possible, it will build on these treasures.

 

Which is why I’m sad to report that Pappano’s Tintagel is a squandered opportunity. If you expect him to apply his best, RVW 4-style vigor you’ll be disappointed. This is a lethargic Tintagel that captures the seascape portion of Bax’s program remarks, but perhaps only on a cloudy day. It misses what he says of Arthur and Tristan, of knights and legends. Pappano and the LSO sink beneath the music’s luxurious harmonies like a leaky barge off the Cornish coast. They don’t seem comfortable with the composer’s thick textures. Compare this with David Lloyd-Jones’s definitive interpretation from over two decades ago (Naxos 8.557145), where there is a much stronger grasp of the idiom. Lloyd-Jones knew how to navigate those big blocks of sound, and to keep his orchestra from getting bogged down. His approach is bold and virile, while Pappano succumbs to flabbiness. In a world hungry for fantasy, Tintagel has the potential to capture audience imagination. Pappano’s LSO may sparkle in Holst’s cosmic mysteries, but when it comes to Bax’s immersive world of myth, the magic simply doesn’t take hold.

 

The nice thing about our streaming age is that I can resist recommendations on the basis of whole albums. About 4-5 tracks of this recording are well worth buying and putting into playlists. I wouldn’t mind if I never heard the others again. As someone who still loves the hard product, with its booklets and cover art, I’ll at least take the win of having piecemeal options here.

Butterworth & Holst Orchestral Works (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

George Butterworth: A Shropshire Lad; The Banks of the Green Willow; Two English Idylls. Holst: Egdon Heath, Op. 47; Two Songs without Words, Op. 22; A Fugal Concerto, Op. 40, No. 2; St. Paul’s Suite Op. 29, No. 2. Andrew Manze, conductor; Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. Onyx 4258 

George Butterworth (1885-1916) is one of music history’s great “What Ifs.” Before he was struck down during World War I’s Battle of the Somme at the age of 31, he had already produced a body of work showing rich personality and promise. For perspective, had Beethoven died at 31, we would have his First Period of compositions and no more. Had Rameau and Janáček perished at the same juncture, we would now see them as minor figures. Almost the same is true of Butterworth’s friend Ralph Vaughan Williams. Granted, luminaries like Mozart and Schubert established their mature greatness by this point, but they are outliers. Based on what Butterworth managed to produce, there is every reason to suspect continued quality and growth had he reached his elder years.

Then again, Butterworth’s small number of surviving works carry a cultural weight that might justifiably be the envy of many composers with lengthy careers behind them. For instance, in his excellent book English Diatonic Music 1887-1955 (OUP, 2025), which I just reviewed for Music & Letters, Matthew Riley shows how influential Butterworth’s Shropshire Lad songs were for a whole generation of English song composers. (He discusses how the “Cherry Tree” motive from Loveliest of Trees became particularly iconic for portraying the melancholy of impermanence.) That same powerful voice is present in the Butterworth orchestral compositions featured on this recording. Each of them receives excellent performances at the hands of the RLPO and Andrew Manze. If I had to differentiate them from other options in the catalogue, I might emphasize their clarity and sharp contrasts. Compare these to the rather more dreamy soundscapes of William Boughton and the English String Orchestra (Nimbus 5068), for example. I think I may slightly prefer the latter. But anyone should feel well served by both.

The Holst interpretations that follow are if anything even more superb. The Two Songs and the Fugal Concerto exude precision and polish, and I have little more to say about them here. It is the present Egdon Heath and St. Paul’s Suite that made me really sit up and take notice. Previously, my go-to recording for the former was David Lloyd-Jones and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra (Naxos 8.553696). And it’s still a great one. But Manze’s more deliberate tempo and his delicate treatment of sounds and textures just bring out this work’s special moods all the more. It’s a satisfyingly atmospheric, often creepy experience. Then there’s a wonderful St. Paul’s Suite. For my money, this is the best thing Holst composed after The Planets. He didn’t always demonstrate a strong musical personality, but the pieces in this set sure do. Manze wisely doesn’t tinker them to death, and instead lets their vivid tunes, rhythms, and colors sparkle appreciatingly. English music at its finest.

If I have a quibble here, it concerns the packaging. The CD cover art and production are beautiful. The liner notes by Lewis Foreman are terrific, as usual. But I shouldn’t have to rip through the plastic wrapping, open the CD case, pull the booklet out, and look inside of it, all just to see a track listing. This should be shown through the back of the case, like you find with most other companies’ recordings. Here instead we merely have the names of the performers and the works performed given there. I have no idea why this is so, and I’d rather not speculate. But Onyx would be well advised to show their customers goodwill by reverting to the norm. That aside, this release is a winner. Fans of British music will certainly want it, and I happily prescribe it to anyone else as well.

Recent Releases No. 49 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Franck and Vierne: First and Last. Franck: Grande Pièce Symphonique, op. 17; Vierne: Symphonie No. 6, op. 59. Christopher Houlihan, organ. Azica ACD-71356

The subtitle of this album is “French Romantic Organ Symphonies.” Judging from that subtitle, and as you might guess from the fact that the two compositions are sufficient to fill an entire CD, these are both substantial compositions. Sharing his inspiration behind the album, the American organist Christopher Houlihan (b. 1987) begins his liner note essay by observing “The era of French Romantic symphonic organ music is bookended by the work of two composers, César Franck (1822-1890) and Louis Vierne (1870-1937).  Among this oeuvre, there are probably no two pieces that better represent the trajectory of this style than Franck’s Grande pièce symphonique and Vierne’s Symphony No. 6 – essentially the first and the last French Romantic organ symphonies.” Music lovers may well be familiar with Franck from his work in other genres, such as his symphony, chamber music, or piano music; perhaps some might even recall that he was in fact an organist, so are not surprised that he also wrote music for that mighty instrument. For many music lovers, though, the music of Vierne is much less well-known, for he specialized in music for the organ, for which he composed six of these organ symphonies. Both pieces on the program truly are grand works, the Franck in six movements and the Vierne in five. Perhaps because Vierne was the true organ specialist, it is the Franck piece that will most likely sound the more “symphonic” to the majority of classical music listeners, while the Vierne will sound more like what they would expect organ music to sound like.  

 

First and Last was recorded on the Manton Memorial Organ “Pascal Quoirin” (2011) at the Church of the Ascension, the only French-built organ in New York. Houlihan explains the significance of playing this repertoire on the organ at Church of the Ascension: “Among organ music, the successful performance of French repertoire is especially dependent on the particular sonorities available on a given instrument. The Quoirin organ is a very good fit for the colorful demands of Franck and Vierne’s music, and it was an honor to return to Ascension Church for this recording.” I did a little research on this particular organ and found an article at the church’s website that offered some fascinating details about the history of this instrument:

 

For more than a half a century, Sir Edwin Alfred Grenville Manton and Lady Florence Manton were known to generations of Ascension clergy and parishioners as “Jim and Gretchen.” Next-door neighbors to the church in Greenwich Village, they were active in the parish throughout their lives in New York… Their volunteer efforts helped sustain the parish through the course of many rectors and their generosity during their lives and by bequest continues this day to support the daily life, worship, and programs of Ascension. A British subject his entire life and a great collector of British art, especially the paintings of Constable, Jim Manton was knighted and became Sir Edwin in 1994 in recognition of his charitable contributions to the Tate Gallery in London; in fact, he was, after Sir Henry Tate, the most generous benefactor in the gallery’s history. But before and after that event, Mr. and Mrs. Manton’s generosity toward the Church of the Ascension was unequaled in our parish history. In addition, they had a special love of great music and valued Ascension’s unique place in the history of sacred music in America. To honor their memory, The Manton Foundation chose a most appropriate gift to the parish by which to remember these two loyal parishioners: The Manton Memorial Organ by Pascal Quoirin of St. Didier, France, is the first French-built pipe organ ever installed in New York City. With its 6,183 pipes, 95 stops, 111 ranks, 2 consoles, and 7 keyboards, it is the largest French organ built anywhere in almost 50 years.

The sound quality of the CD is full, warm, and natural, giving a sense of the church but without the excessive reverberation or over-emphasis on deep bass that is sometimes encountered on organ recordings. This is not a recording for those looking to show off their audio systems, it is an recording for those who enjoy good music, well performed and well-recorded. Especially for those who would like to add some organ music to their collection and are looking for something other than the usual Bach recitals, First and Last would be well worth checking out.

            

Holst: The Planets. Daniel Harding, Chor und Symphonieorchester des Bayerische Rundfunks (Bavarian Radio Choir and Symphony Orchestra). BR Klassik 900208 

 

Gustav Holst’s The Planets, familiar to most music lovers through its many recordings over the years (we all have our favorites, many of us more than one) was composed between 1914 and 1916. Its seven movements comprise musical portraits of the seven known planets of Holst’s time, but based more on astrology and mysticism than astronomy and scientific fact. Each "planet" can be seen as a kind of tone poem. The unusually informative liner notes point out that Holst had originally given the suite the certainly less colorful title, Seven Pieces for Large Orchestra. (As splendid as the music is, it is hard to imagine that it would be as popular as it is today with that title.) According to the background press release information that accompanied this release, the work had not been performed by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra for almost three decades when British conductor Daniel Harding (who, fascinatingly enough, is also a commercial airline pilot) brought it back to Munich’s concert audience in February, 2022, when this live recording was made. 

I can’t help wonder whether the orchestra's long period of unfamiliarity with the piece might help to explain the measured pace that Harding adopts throughout all seven movements, for this is the slowest version of The Planets that I can recall auditioning. However, that is not necessarily a bad thing, for the sound quality is top-drawer and the deliberate pacing allows the listener to savor every little detail of the score. Compare Harding’s Mars to Dutoit’s, for example, and the latter seems to be just scurrying right through it. Still, the Dutoit recording remains a favorite of mine – I am just using it as a reference point. Other favorites of mine include Mehta, Previn, Steinberg, Slatkin, and Boult. This recording is at the opposite end of the spectrum from the classic Steinberg/BSO – Steinberg tears through it, Harding takes his time. Somewhere in the middle is the 1979 Boult/LPO. Although some folks might try to dismiss The Planets as "too popular" to be taken seriously, I think it is a simply magnificent piece of serious music, one of those compositions for which auditioning and perhaps even owning multiple versions is certainly nothing of which to be ashamed. For those with a keen interest in Holst’s extraordinary score, this new Harding version is well worth a listen, for it offers both sterling sonics and a unique perspective on the music.

This Sceptered Isle (CD review)

Music of Wood, Holst, Vaughan Williams, and Elgar. David Bernard, Park Avenue Chamber Symphony and Wind Ensemble. Recursive Classics RC5946217.

By John J. Puccio

“This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for her self
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in a silver sea
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England”

--William Shakespeare, Richard II

England had a musical renaissance in the late-nineteenth to mid-twentieth century with the so-called “English pastoral school.” Composers of this persuasion strove to create (or some would say revive) a singular style of music making based on recreation of seventeenth-century tunes and collected traditional songs. In general, the music celebrated the joys of the countryside, the life of shepherds or rural folk, usually peaceful, innocent, idyllic, and often programmatic music. The current album offers four composers representing this musical school of thought: Haydn Wood, Gustav Holst. Ralph Vaughan Williams, and Sir Edward Elgar.

David Bernard and his Park Avenue Chamber Symphony and Park Avenue Wind Ensemble present the selections. As you probably know by now, my having mentioned it often, the Park Avenue ensemble includes mainly players who do other things for a living (like hedge-fund managers, philanthropists, CEO's, UN officials, and so on). They're not exactly amateurs, but they're not full-time musicians, either. Fortunately, their playing dispels any skepticism about the quality of their work; everyone involved with the orchestra deserves praise. Nor is the Park Avenue Chamber Symphony a particularly small group. It's about the size of a full symphony orchestra but play with the transparency and intimacy of a chamber group.

Opening the program is Mannin Veen--”Dear Isle of Man”--A Manx Tone Poem by Haydn Wood (1882-1959). Basing the work on folk songs from the Isle of Man, Wood wrote it in 1933 for full orchestra and later arranged it (or had it arranged) for wind ensemble. Maestro Bernard offers it here in its arrangement for wind ensemble, which became the most-popular medium for the work. Personally, I had my doubts, thinking a wind ensemble was the last thing a peaceful, bucolic, “pastoral” piece of music needed. But the Park Avenue Wind Ensemble proved me wrong. There is nothing bombastic or overblown about the Suite’s six movements. The playing under Maestro Bernard is mostly gentle, sweet, and comforting, an ideal setting for the music.

Next, we get the Suite No. 1 in E-flat for Military Band by Gustav Holst (1874-1934), who, yes, really did write more than just The Planets. Holst wrote the Suite in 1909, a few years before The Planets, and while the tunes in the Suite might sound like folk songs, they were all original to the composer. It’s probably the least “pastoral” of all the selections on the album, but it shows a fine, spunky drive, with a military cadence and bearing throughout, culminating in a full-fledged march by the end. Again, the wind ensemble carry out their duties with an affectionate glee.

After that, we get the familiar Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis by Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958). Written in 1909, it is clearly derived from the composer’s interest in Tudor music, which itself was seeing a revival about this time. Here, we have the symphonic orchestra back, and they do a lovely job under the commanding leadership of Maestro Bernard. There’s nothing wishy-washy about this account. Bernard leads them boldly, with strong, firm, resolute direction. Thus, the music sheds much of the sentimentality from which it sometimes suffers.

The final and longest piece on the disc is Variations on an Original Theme (“Enigma”) by Sir Edward Elgar (1857-1934). He wrote it in 1888, but his publisher wasn’t so sure of its success so appended the subtitle “Enigma” to it in the hope that it would generate more interest. (Several years earlier, Tchaikovsky had declared that his own “Pathetique” Symphony had an underlining meaning, which had caused a good deal of intrigue over what that obscure meaning might be. Elgar’s publisher hoped the same buzz might come of an “Enigma” subtext.)

Whatever, the Elgar piece contains the theme itself and fourteen variations, the most famous probably being the ninth variation Adagio, “Nimrod.” The variations began life as improvisations that Elgar continued to toy with, bringing in all sorts of clever, hidden, and not-so-hidden meanings (thus, “Enigma”). Elgar dedicated the music “to my friends pictured within,” with each variation being a musical sketch of one of his close acquaintances. Anything else that listeners might want to bring to the music is up the them. The important thing is that Maestro Bernard and his orchestra play the music in a most forthright manner, making it more heartfelt in the process. The interpretations dance lightly when necessary, display a cheerful playfulness at other times, and exhibit the proper decorum where appropriate. It’s an altogether delightful and clearheaded rendering of the score.

Recording engineers Jennifer Nulsen, Isaiah Abolin, Thom Beemer, Gunnar Gillberg, and Lawrence Manchester recorded the music at the DiMenna Center for the Performing Arts, NYC in February and November 2021. The recording shows a healthy degree of hall resonance, making for a little less overall transparency but a good deal of realistic ambience. The sound is well balanced in most respects, with a soft, warm glow making it easy to listen to.

JJP

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

Holst: The Planets (SACD review)

Also, The Perfect Fool. Michael Stern, Kansas City Symphony. Reference Recordings RR-146SACD.

It is always a pleasure to welcome a new Reference Recordings album, especially one engineered by RR's cofounder Keith O. "Professor" Johnson. Since the founding, Professor Johnson has made over 130 recordings for the company, with one characteristic standing out: They all sound like real music in a real musical environment. You can be sure with Keith Johnson's Reference Recordings, for example, that an orchestra sounds the way a real orchestra would sound in a real concert hall. That's certainly the case with this recording of the Kansas City Symphony, under the direction of its longtime Music Director Michael Stern, and made in Helzberg Hall. You're pretty much there with the orchestra.

Now, about the content: Between 1914 and 1916, the early years of "The Great War," English composer Gustav Holst (1874-1934) began writing his most-famous piece of music, the seven-movement orchestral suite The Planets, premiering it in 1918. That might help to explain why the first two segments are about "War" and "Peace." He named the movements after the astrological signs of the known planets at the time, not counting Earth, although the music doesn't really describe either the zodiac signs or the planets so much as they express feelings about the various moods of the human spirit.

The music begins with "Mars, the Bringer of War" with its menacing delight. Holst gets us right into the theme of war by presenting us with the god of war. Maestro Stern starts things out quietly and builds the dynamic contrasts gradually from there, culminating in a strong finish.

The second movement, "Venus, the Bringer of Peace," is a lovely slow section, and for me it is one of the high points of the work. It is sweet and serene, a welcome relief from the rigors of war that precede it. We also hear echoes here of "The Lark Ascending," written by Holst's good friend Ralph Vaughan Williams a few years before. Maestro Stern takes the music more literally than I have heard it before, losing a bit of something in overall lyricism yet fitting in nicely with the surrounding movements.

Michael Stern

"Mercury, the Winged Messenger" is a "nimble scherzo," which provides a little excitement after the relative calm of "Venus." Under Stern's direction, it's an attractive and charming diversion.

"Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity" is essentially a big, boisterous Bacchanal, made all the bigger with Maestro Stern controlling the action. It's a rollicking piece, which Stern understands, yet he keeps it tightly wound, never letting it get out of hand. So, under Stern it's big but moderately paced, jolly but never exaggerated.

"Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age" was Holst's personal favorite section of the suite. I'm not sure why Holst liked it so much, though; maybe he felt a little sorry for it because of its relative ordinariness in the context of the rest of the music. In any case, it does have some lovely poetic revelations, which Maestro Stern is happy to point up.

After that comes "Uranus, the Magician," the segment that has everything in it an audiophile loves, from deep bass to highest treble, from softest notes to loudest fortes. It exhibits a full demonstration of an orchestra's capabilities, so it's a good test of one's stereo system capabilities. Although Stern takes it at a sprightly tempo, which robs it a mite of its mystery, he plays up its big dynamic contrasts, which enhances its excitement.

The suite ends with "Neptune, the Mystic," a wordless female chorus that fades off into silence at the end. As the music can sometimes run on too long and overstay its welcome, Stern paces it well enough that it doesn't happen. It all seems of a piece and ends naturally, not gimmicky.

Accompanying The Planets Maestro Stern gives us Holst's introductory ballet music from the composer's 1923 one-act opera The Perfect Fool. Holst intended for the opera to be a humorous fairy tale, and Maestro Stern plays it that way, light and airy, witty and delightful.

Producer David Frost and engineers Keith O. Johnson and Sean Royce Martin recorded the music at Helzberg Hall, Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts, Kansas City, Missouri in January 2015. They recorded it using 24-bit HDCD technology in hybrid Super Audio CD, so it will play back in 2-channel stereo and 5.1 multichannel from the SACD layer and 2-channel stereo from the regular CD layer. As usual, I listened in 2-channel SACD.

Reference Recordings have gotten us into audiophile territory again so expect an enormous dynamic range. There will be a temptation to turn up the volume as you begin. Don't. Things get very loud very quickly enough. There's good imaging involved, left to right and front to back, with sections of the orchestra clearly defined. Note, however, that unlike most live recordings that provide a clinical, close-up perspective, this studio production provides a vantage point that appears about eight or ten rows back from the orchestra. Transparency, therefore, is of the realistic kind, never soft but never glaring or glossy, either. In The Planets I would have preferred a little more upper bass warmth, stronger deep bass, and a tad less lower treble, but that's just me. It's quite good. In The Perfect Fool, everything seems perfect, up and down the spectrum.

JJP

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

Strauss, R.: Thus Spake Zarathustra (CD review)

Also Holst: The Planets. Andrew Litton, Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Delos DE 3225 (2-disc set).

This double album is titled "Dallas Space Spectacular," a designation based on a tenuous connection between Richard Strauss's Thus Spake Zarathustra and the film 2001: A Space Odyssey. Because director Stanley Kubrick used Strauss's "Sunrise" Introduction to Zarathustra several times in his 1968 film, I suppose the piece will forevermore be referred to by the general public as "space" music. So be it.

In any event, on the set under review I preferred Andrew Litton's interpretation of Zarathustra to his more hurried performance of Gustav Holst's The Planets. His Zarathustra has real weight and body to it, with the big dramatic climaxes resounding with emotion. Most of Litton's Planets, however, seem like they're spinning crazily out of orbit. Maybe they're rushing to face some unknown cosmic appointment that we don't know about, or maybe Litton himself was rushing to keep a dinner date.

Andrew Litton

Delos recorded the sound in what they called at the time (1998) "Virtual Reality," actually Dolby Pro Logic. It sounds just fine in normal two-channel stereo, but played over a surround-sound system with a center and rear speakers, it is supposed to exhibit enhanced spatial qualities. I tried it in both of my sound systems--in my main, living room system, which uses two, large bi-amplified speakers and in my home theater system located in an adjacent room, which uses seven smaller speakers, a bass woofer, and a Denon 7.1 receiver. The recording sounded best in two channel, not just because the living room speakers are better but because with 7.1 speakers the Dolby Pro Logic matrix fed too much information to the center and rear channels. Frankly, I wasn't about to readjust the levels of the center and rear speakers to accommodate the recording, as a matter of principle. I have yet to hear one of these surround-sound recordings that didn't need some sort of volume adjustment in one or more speakers, and even then I have never been fully satisfied with the sound. I know some people say that Pro Logic was meant only for movie soundtracks, not for the reproduction of music, and I see their point.

Anyway, in two-channel, as I say, it sounded fine. Compared to several other Zarathustra recordings (EMI, Newport Classic Auricle, Philips, DG, and JVC/RCA), however, the Delos sound had less depth, less transparency, and less deep bass. My reference Planets (Hi-Q/EMI), also sounded better than the Delos, with greater depth and clarity. My conclusion, therefore, is that the comparison recordings are better, even if a couple of them are costlier.

Still, you will find nothing to dislike about Delos's sound, either, and Litton's performance of The Planets may even grow on you. So if the set's combination of titles appeals you, there is no serious need to hesitate.

JJP

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

Britten & Holst: Orchestral Works (CD review)

Andre Previn, London Symphony Orchestra. EMI 7243 5 62616 2.

Fritz Reiner, Bruno Walter, Leonard Bernstein, Thomas Beecham, and Leopold Stokowski in the late Fifties and Sixties. Otto Klemperer, Herbert von Karajan, and Bernard Haitink in the Fifties, Sixties, Seventies, and beyond. And then, too, there was Andre Previn and in the late Sixties, Seventies, and Eighties. I’m not sure many of us realized at the time that we were experiencing some kind of golden age of recorded stereo music. I know I didn’t. Looking back, these men are now among my favorite conductors, and they produced some of my favorite recordings. Thank goodness for CD’s and our ability to preserve their legacy.

The selections on this EMI “Great Recordings of the Century” disc represent some of Previn and the London Symphony’s very best work. From English composer and pianist Benjamin Britten (1913-76) come his Sinfonia da Requiem, “Four Sea Interludes,” and “Passacaglia”; and from English composer Gustav Holst (1874-1934) come his Perfect Fool ballet and “Egdon Heath,” all of the music recorded between 1973 and ‘74.

Of the bunch, it’s the “Four Sea Interludes” from the opera Peter Grimes that stand out for me. Beautifully recorded and colorfully rendered, these short tone pictures were long a reference standard in the LP days. Although EMI had released them on CD before (at the time coupled with Britten’s Spring Symphony), the company (now Warner Classics) remastered them in 2003 using EMI’s “Abbey Road Technology,” and they sound smoother and more revealing than ever.

For anyone who likes, say, French composer Claude Debussy’s La Mer or English pastoral music in general, Britten’s “Four Sea Interludes” (“Dawn,” “Sunday Morning,” “Moonlight,” and “Storm”) are a must, a beautiful evocation of the sea, the sky, the mist, the coastline, and nature. Previn perfectly judges the pace for each section and creates vivid little symphonic pictures. The Sinfonia da Requiem may be quite a bit heavier, but it sounds so well recorded, it’s worth a listen. In contrast, the Holst ballet music from The Perfect Fool is light and festive, and Previn makes it a delight.

Then, the disc concludes with Holst’s somber tone poem “Egdon Heath,” a moody affair depicting a passage from Thomas Hardy’s The Return of the Native that describes the apparently desolate moor. Holst said this work was “his finest achievement.” Perhaps so, it’s certainly lyrical and poetic in Previn’s hands, but don’t be surprised if it achieves its aim and you find yourself a little depressed.

Again, I can’t say enough for the recorded sound. It is warm and detailed, polished and refined, rounded in all the right, natural ways, yet revealing, too, with a wonderful sense of depth and stereo imaging. Oddly, however, there appeared to my ears a volume imbalance between the Britten and Holst pieces that required I turn down the Holst slightly. Maybe it was just me.

JJP

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

Holst: The Planets (SACD review)

Walter Susskind, St. Louis Symphony Orchestra. Mobile Fidelity UDSACD 4005.

Mobile Fidelity began life as a producer of half-speed remastered vinyl discs. When CD’s came along, they kept pace in the audiophile arena by transferring music to gold discs. These days, having largely moved away from gold discs and on to Super Audio CDs, they have found some good source material in the performances of Walter Susskind, such as this one where he conducts Gustav Holst’s The Planets with the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra.

The first and only time other time I heard this recording was almost thirty years ago when it first appeared on a Vox/Turnabout LP in the mid Seventies. It was during the quadraphonic era, and Vox had intended for listeners to play it back in four channels. But I heard it at that time in ordinary two-channel stereo where the sound appeared a mite blurry and noisy to me. Not being too impressed by the sonics at that time, I quickly forgot about the performance. Unlike before, however, I was able to hear it in cleaner, clearer stereo on this Mobile Fidelity SACD, and I regret not having given the performance more credit back then.

Mo-Fi is producing hybrid two-channel/multi-channel discs, so a person can listen to The Planets with or without an SACD player or rear channels. I listened in two-channel stereo through a Sony SACD player, where the sound now appeared better focused, and Susskind’s interpretation of this colorfully descriptive score thoroughly delighted me.

“Mars” begins things with a zesty, saucy bravado. I’ve read that Holst wanted this “Bringer of War” to ridicule the stupidity of war, and surely Susskind’s zippy rendition conveys this thought. Nevertheless, it’s the slower movements that most impressed me, “Venus” and “Saturn” and, of course, the ethereal “Neptune,” with their grace and refinement. Still, it’s “Uranus” that always seems to me the centerpiece of the work, the movement that combines the strongest tensions, the biggest outbursts of emotion, and the softest moments of repose. Susskind handles it superbly, the pacing immaculate. This is quite a nice reading, actually.

The sound, as I’ve said, is a marked improvement over the old vinyl. But one must play it somewhat loudly to enjoy it to the full, in all its spacious grandeur. At a soft or even moderate playback level, there seems to be a degree of cloudiness to the proceedings. Yet at volume, the sound is reasonably firm and well delineated. On the minus side, there is a minor feeling of compartmentalization about it, an absence of ultimate depth, some minor softness about the dynamics, and a lack of truly deep bass, all of which could intrude upon one’s complete surrender to a willing suspension of disbelief. Be that as it may, I’m sure it sounds realistic enough, overall, to please most folks, probably close to the original master tape. It’s an enjoyable disc, and I’m nitpicking.

The only flaw is that since my writing this review, Mo-Fi seems to have discontinued the disc. Alas, if you’re interested in it, you may have to do a search.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:

JJP

Holst: The Planets (XRCD24/K2 review)

Andre Previn, London Symphony Orchestra. Hi-Q Records HIQXRCD3.

When EMI first released Andre Previn's recording of The Planets on LP back in 1973, it became an instant favorite of mine. Not only did I find the performance as good or better than anyone else’s, I thought the sound was of reference quality. As of this writing it’s around forty years later, and my opinion hasn’t changed. I still use the “Uranus” movement as an audio standard for judging other recordings and stereo equipment. I first owned the English EMI LP pressing, vastly preferring it to the American Angel pressing; then there was the EMI compact disc, which wasn’t quite as open or solid as the LP; and later the EMI Japan mastering, which improved upon the English product. Now, Hi-Q Records have made a good thing even better in an XRCD24/K2 audiophile remastering of distinction.

Let’s start, though, with the music. English composer Gustav Holst (1874-1934) began writing his most-famous piece of music, the seven-movement orchestral suite The Planets, during the years of “The Great War,” premiering it in 1918. That might explain why the first couple of segments are about “War” and “Peace.” He titled each movement after the astrological sign of a known planet at the time (not counting Earth), although the music doesn’t really describe zodiac signs or planets so much as it expresses feelings about the various moods of the human spirit. It was Sir Adrian Boult who conducted the first performance of the work and recorded it regularly thereafter. His final disc for EMI in 1979 remains one of my favorites; however, I still prefer this Previn recording to his.

The music begins with the theme of war in “Mars, the Bringer of War.” Under Previn, there’s a strong, menacing forward momentum, without the music sounding raucous or unyielding. Previn’s reading is warlike, to be sure, yet lyrical in its rhythmic beat.

In the second movement, “Venus, the Bringer of Peace,” Previn and the LSO handle the lovely adagio delicately, with a rising passion and Romanticism as goes along. The movement--tranquil and serene--provides a relief from the rigors of war that precede it. We also hear echoes in it of Vaughan Williams’s “The Lark Ascending,” written a few years earlier, and Previn was always a subtle and effective interpreter of Vaughan Williams.

“Mercury, the Winged Messenger” is a light-footed scherzo, which supplies a little excitement after the relative calm of “Venus.” Previn seems to delight in it, making it playful and fun.

“Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity” comes next, and it’s a natural successor to Mercury, being a big, jovial bacchanal. While Previn ensures it is properly festive and stately, he never lets the music become so rambunctious that it overstays its welcome.

“Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age” was Holst’s personal favorite segment of the suite, and Previn gives it appropriate weight. Why Holst liked it so much I’m not sure; I find it the least interesting part of the work. Nevertheless, Previn and the LSO play it as persuasively as anyone.

After that comes “Uranus, the Magician,” the section of the disc I often use as a demo piece for friends. It has everything an audiophile loves, from deep bass to highest treble, from the softest notes to the loudest fortes; it exhibits a full demonstration of an orchestra’s capabilities. What’s more, Previn’s interpretation is appropriately magical and not a little spooky.

The suite ends with “Neptune, the Mystic,” with a wordless female chorus (the Ambrosian Singers) fading off into silence at the end. Previn’s reading is sweet and gentle and not at all sentimental as the piece concludes in the most-distant reaches of space.

Producer Christopher Bishop and engineer Christopher Parker recorded The Planets for EMI at Kingsway Hall, London, in 1973. My job was to compare the sound of this 2012 remastered Hi-Q compact disc with the best previous CD I could find, the 2005 remastered EMI-Japan edition, carefully listening, comparing, and switching out the discs between two CD players on occasion.

Hi-Q remastered the sound using JVC’s XRCD24/K2 technology at JVC’s Mastering Center in Japan. I’ve explained the XRCD process before, so let me just remind you it is probably the most-precise, most-advanced method currently available of transferring material from a master tape to disc, and the results we find on the Hi-Q disc are extraordinarily good.

The Hi-Q sound exhibits excellent depth, air, space, dynamic range, and impact. Compared to the EMI-Japan disc, it displays slightly better transient attack, impact, and cutoff, with a degree better detail and a smoother, tauter, more cleanly and solidly defined body. The miking distance makes the orchestra seem a touch constricted left to right for a seat a bit farther back in the hall than one often hears in extremely close-up recordings. The sonics are also a touch dry at times yet still lightly resonant, with just enough warmth to add to the realism. There was no doubt in my mind about the superiority of the Hi-Q disc’s clarity and punch, its sparkling highs, its deep bass, and its overall transparency.

As always, the folks at Hi-Q provide a premium product with a premium package, a glossy, hard cardboard and plastic Digipak-type container, the booklet notes sewn book-like into the center, the disc fastened to the inside back cover.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:


JJP

Holst: The Planets (UltraHD CD review)

Andre Previn, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. LIM UHD 058.

Between 1914 and 1916, the years of “The Great War,” English composer Gustav Holst (1874-1934) began writing his most-famous piece of music, the seven-movement orchestral suite The Planets, premiering it in 1918. That might help to explain why the first two segments are about “War” and “Peace.” He named each movement after the astrological sign of a known planet at the time, not counting Earth, although the music doesn’t really describe either the zodiac signs or the planets so much as they express feelings about the various moods of the human spirit.

Sir Adrian Boult conducted the first performance and recorded the work regularly, his final disc for EMI in 1979 one of my favorites. However, I actually prefer Andre Previn’s 1974 EMI recording of it with the LSO even more than any of Boult’s, so personal preference is still a big part of the equation.

Which brings us, finally, to this 1986 Telarc recording by Previn and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Apparently, both Previn and Telarc thought so highly of the conductor’s EMI analogue performance, they agreed to do it again, this time digitally. The thing is, even though the sound is digital, it isn’t necessarily better, nor is the performance.

The music begins on an auspicious note as Previn and the RPO introduce us to “Mars, the Bringer of War” with much menacing delight. Holst gets us right into the theme of war by presenting us with the god of war. Is Previn’s rendition this time more compelling than what he gave us earlier? I don’t thing so; there is just that nth degree of tension missing. Yet it’s still better than most such readings.

In the second movement, “Venus, the Bringer of Peace,” the RPO’s playing is quite lovely, and for me it is the high point of Previn’s interpretation of the suite. It’s sweet and serene, a welcome relief from the rigors of war that precede it. We hear echoes here also of Vaughan Williams’s “The Lark Ascending,” written a few years before, and Previn was always a subtle and effective interpreter of Vaughan Williams.

“Mercury, the Winged Messenger” is a “nimble scherzo,” as the booklet note points out, which provides a little excitement after the relative calm of Venus. Be that as it may, Previn’s rendering does not seem as light or as fleet as in his EMI recording.

“Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity” follows, a big, boisterous Bacchanal, which is almost as much fun this second time around for Previn as it was the first time. Still, it seems to dance in a more carefree fashion in the earlier recording, this one a tad more rigid.

“Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age” was Holst’s personal favorite section of the suite, and Previn gives it appropriate weight. I’m not sure why Holst liked it so much, though; maybe he felt a little sorry for it. In any case, it does have some lovely lyrical contrasts that Previn is more than happy to emphasize.

After that comes “Uranus, the Magician,” the section of Previn’s ‘74 disc I often use as a demo piece for friends. It has everything an audiophile loves, from deep bass to highest treble, from softest notes to loudest fortes; it exhibits a full demonstration of an orchestra’s capabilities. As good as the LIM/Telarc disc is, I remain an admirer of the EMI presentation. Oddly, where Previn is slower in every other movement for Telarc, in this movement he’s faster and seems a little more matter-of-fact than before.

The suite ends with “Neptune, the Mystic,” its wordless female chorus (Women of the Brighton Festival Chorus) fading off into silence at the end. Previn is properly ethereal as the piece concludes in the most-distant reaches of space.

LIM’s remaster of Telarc’s Planets is quite good and an improvement over the standard Telarc product. However, that doesn’t mean it is “better” than Previn’s EMI analogue recording of a decade earlier. Telarc recorded the music in Watford Town Hall, London, in 1986; LIM remastered it in 2011 using their Ultra High Definition 32-bit mastering process, releasing the album in 2012. When I say the digital production isn’t inevitably better than the EMI analogue recording, I mean that different listeners will have different standards for judging the results. Since none of us can compare the sound of either recording to the actual experiences of 1974 and 1986, a person’s appreciation for one recording or the other becomes a matter of subjective judgment. Which one sounds more “real,” more “hi-fi,” or more “audiophile” can be very personal concerns.

The LIM/Telarc remastering is surely smoother and more dynamic than the EMI disc I own (itself a Japanese Toshiba-EMI remastering from 2005). Nevertheless, the EMI is more transparent, with marginally greater spatiality, dimensionality; the LIM/Telarc sonics are slightly thicker, fatter, heavier, warmer, and softer, the acoustic environment of each recording location no doubt the cause for the differences. Both discs exhibit excellent bass properties and quick transient response. One thing is certain: If you are already a fan of the Telarc recording, the engineers at LIM have improved it, so it won’t disappoint you. It’s not a huge, knock-your-socks-off improvement, but it’s noticeable. Meanwhile, perhaps someday LIM will approach EMI to remaster some of their classic material; I hope they do, and I hope they start with Previn’s ‘74 recording.

Anyway, LIM sweeten the deal with a handsome, high-gloss, hardcover package; a twenty-page bound booklet of notes; and a static-proof inner sleeve. It’s not cheap, but at least the company gives you your money’s worth. For a complete listing of FIM/LIM products, you can visit their Web site at http://www.firstimpressionmusic.com/.

JJP

Holst: The Planets (CD review)

Sir Adrian Boult, Vienna Academy Chorus, Vienna State Opera Orchestra. HDTT HDCD 130.

English composer Gustav Holst (1874-1934) began writing his most-famous piece of music, the seven-movement orchestral suite The Planets, between 1914 and 1916, the years of "The Great War," which may help to explain why the first two segments are about "War" and "Peace." He named each movement after the astrological sign of a known planet at the time, not counting Earth, although the music doesn't really describe the signs or the planets so much as they express feelings about the human spirit in its various moods.

In any case, the composer asked his friend Adrian Boult to conduct the premiere, which took place in 1918. For the next seventy years Sir Adrian would re-record the work regularly, his final disc for EMI in 1979 my own favorite. One could say, therefore, that Boult was the ultimate authority on the subject; however, I actually like Andre Previn's EMI recording of it even more than any of Boult's, so personal preference is still a big part of the equation.

What we have here is Sir Adrian's 1959 rendering of the music with the Vienna Academy Chorus and Vienna State Opera Orchestra. Of the several Boult recordings I've heard, this one would not be my first choice, but it does have some nice things going for it, not the least of which is its realistic sound, well remastered here by HDTT (High Definition Tape Transfers).

The music begins on an auspicious note as Boult and his Vienna players introduce us to "Mars, the Bringer of War" with an abundance of gusto and menace. Then, in "Venus, the Bringer of Peace," the playing is quite lovely, although I didn't feel as much of the music's passion as in Boult's later EMI account.

"Mercury, the Winged Messenger" finds Boult unaccountably slowing down, his reading surprisingly uninvolving. Maybe it was because the Vienna performers were not as familiar with the English music as Sir Adrian's own British orchestras were; maybe they weren't as in touch with it; or maybe it was Boult's fault for not inspiring them enough. It's anybody's guess.

"Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity" comes next, and for a "bringer of jollity" the god seems positively solemn, Boult taking a very deliberate, calculated approach to the score. It kind of sucks the life out of it to do it so seriously, and it seems uncharacteristic of Sir Adrian.

Fortunately, Boult returns to form with "Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age," a movement I love, with Sir Adrian bringing to it an aura of wisdom that could only come of someone with the conductor's experience of life.

After that, Boult begins "Uranus, the Magician" vividly and then falls into the same deliberate pattern as in "Jupiter," ultimately failing to convey as much mystery as the music contains. Finally, in an unusual move for the conductor, he actually seems to hurry the concluding, magical "Neptune," with its wordless chorus diminishing into silence. It's almost as though Boult knew this wasn't one of his best showings and just wanted to get it over with. Whatever the case, it's always fun listening to Holst's music, and if Boult varied his readings of it over the years, one certainly cannot fault him for doing so.

Westminster recorded the suite at Mozart Hall, Concert House, Vienna in March of 1958, and HDTT remastered it from a Westminster 4-track tape in 2011. The sound is quite good, as we would expect from HDTT's choice of subject matter and their subsequent reproduction of the material, with a wide stereo spread and plenty of smooth transparency. Bass is not especially deep but its taut transient impact is impressive, and its dynamics are more than ample. The sense of stage depth is sometimes uncannily real, the separation of instruments splendid, and the warm concert-hall resonance most natural and lifelike. In a few places, as in "Venus," one notices an odd background noise, perhaps the result of some hiss reduction, I don't know; it's not particularly objectionable, so it should not be a concern. Besides, it beats the alternative.

For information on HDTT discs and downloads, you can check out their Web site at http://www.highdeftapetransfers.com/storefront.php.

JJP

Holst: The Hymn of Jesus (HDCD review)

Also, The Perfect Fool, ballet music; Egdon Heath. Sir Adrian Boult, BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus; London Philharmonic Orchestra. HDTT HDCD215.

Sir Adrian Boult (1889-1983) was the distinguished conductor who did so much to promote British music in the first half of the twentieth century and beyond. Fortunately, he lived long enough into the stereo era to leave us plenty of fine recordings that testify to his importance as well. Arnold Bax, Arthur Bliss, Edward Elgar, Gustav Holst, and Ralph Vaughan Williams are but a few of the composers whose works Boult championed. Holst (1874-1934) thought so highly of him, the composer asked him to premiere his most-famous piece, The Planets. So it's always good to have one of Boult's recordings restored to its finery, like this album of three Holst compositions.

The program begins with The Hymn of Jesus, which Holst wrote around the same period he wrote The Planets, finishing it in 1917, both works the products of the First World War. The Hymn of Jesus is a little over seventeen minutes long, and in performing it Boult conducts the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, the orchestra a group he led for many years. One can immediately hear similarities between the Hymn and the Planets almost from the opening notes; the former starts very gently before the chorus enters, and then the flow of melodic ideas and the various harmonies remind one of The Planets suite. Although it never reaches the thrilling pitch or serene bliss of The Planets, Holst's Hymn, which the composer translated from the original Greek, is quite lovely in its gentle, spiritual manner.

Holst wrote the opera The Perfect Fool a few years later, in 1921, and Boult gives us the ballet music from it, this time the conductor leading another ensemble he headed up for years, the London Philharmonic. The often-aggressive, self-assured ballet music makes a splendid contrast to the greater serenity of The Hymn of Jesus, the ballet music big and brash and a workout for one's speakers. It's about ten minutes long and rather a showpiece even for Holst, going from hugely forward, almost bombastic passages to moments of gentle tranquility.

The program concludes with the thirteen-minute symphonic poem Egdon Heath from 1927, a dark, gloomy affair reflecting the nature of the landscape Holst was describing. There's a bleakness to the music, a starkness, that nonetheless never inhibits its vibrant tone. So we've got kind of depressing music that is never actually depressing. It's probably the best thing on the album in its descriptive beauty.

HDTT (High Definition Tape Transfers) have made this album available in several different formats, the one I listened to being an HDCD. Although HDTT usually transfer their recordings from tape, in this case they used a Decca vinyl LP, recorded in Kingsway Hall, London, in 1961. The sound exhibits a very wide dynamic range, with HDTT using enough noise reduction to keep ticks, pops, and hiss to the barest minimum without affecting the tonal balance or high end. There is the occasional odd background noise, to be sure, but it's nothing distracting. Voices in The Hymn of Jesus are a little bright in louder passages, and because of the wide dynamics they can sneak up and startle you. The Hymn also displays moderate depth and fairly good clarity, yet with a smooth orchestral response.

It's the two items with the LPO, however, that provide the most sonic splendor. The Perfect Fool ballet music and Egdon Heath appear even more dynamic than the Hymn, with greater transparency and a better sense of depth. They are more in the demonstration class than the Hymn, with a fine ambient bloom offering an added dimension of realism.

For further information on the various formats, configurations, and prices of HDTT products, you can visit their Web site at http://www.highdeftapetransfers.com/storefront.php.

JJP

Holst: The Planets (CD review)

Also, A Somerset Rhapsody; The Perfect Fool; Suite No. 2 for Military Band; St. Paul's Suite; Egdon Heath; Hymns from the Rig Veda; A Choral Fantasia. Sir Adrian Boult, London Philharmonic Orchestra; Norman Del Mar, Bournemouth Sinfonietta; Andre Previn, London Symphony Orchestra; Eric Banks, Central Band of the Royal Air Force; Sir Malcolm Sargent, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra; Sir Charles Groves, London Philharmonic Orchestra; Janet Baker, Ian Partridge, Imogen Holst, English Chamber Orchestra. EMI 50999 6 27898 2 (2-disc set).

For a lot of us, British composer Gustav Holst (1874-1934) may seem like a one-shot wonder. Beyond his orchestral suite The Planets (1914-16), our remembrance of his works may get a little fuzzy. The fact is, the man composed over 200 pieces of music. This current two-disc collection from EMI gives us a representative sample of the man's output, with, of course The Planets as the centerpiece.

Let's start with The Planets, done up in fine style by the man who premiered it so many years before, Sir Adrian Boult. Sir Adrian recorded the work a number of times, the one we get here being his final word on the subject, coming around his ninetieth year. Needless to say, he brings to the subject a lifetime of experience, and it shows in a relaxed, unhurried, yet thoroughly authoritative performance.

Holst's idea in The Planets was to characterize each of seven movements in the suite after planetary signs of the zodiac.  I think people like program music because the tunes allow their imagination to soar, and The Planets does just that. Under Sir Adrian, "Mars, the Bringer of War" is urgent, a little menacing, and certainly energetic. "Venus, the Bringer of Peace" is, indeed, serene and lyrical. "Mercury, the Winged Messenger" is properly jaunty and playful, a perfect lead-in to "Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity," which Sir Adrian never rushes but treats like a big, burly, loving uncle. Think of Dickens's Ghost of Christmas Present here. Then comes the otherworldly "Saturn, Bringer of Old Age," always Holst's favorite part of the suite; followed by "Uranus, the Magician," my own favorite part and well characterized by the conductor; concluding with "Neptune, the Mystic" and its wordless chorus slowly fading away uniquely into silence.

The accompanying works largely demonstrate Holst's facility using English folk music in his works, starting with A Somerset Rhapsody and the Brook Green Suite, pieces based almost entirely on folk tunes and beautifully realized by maestro Norman Del Mar and the Bournemouth Sinfonietta. Next are The Perfect Fool, music from Holst's opera arranged into a suite, and Egdon Heath, a tribute to the darkly austere moods of Thomas Hardy, both done by Andre Previn and the London Symphony. Then there are the changes of pace: the Suite No. 2, again folk songs but done up for military band and realized here by Wing Commander Eric Banks and the Central Band of the Royal Air Force; followed by the St. Paul's Suite, which Holst wrote for the orchestra of the school where he was Director of Music, played by Sir Malcolm Sargent and the Royal Philharmonic. The program ends with two choral pieces: hymns from the Rig Veda (Group 2), performed by Sir Charles Groves, the London Symphony Chorus, and the London Philharmonic Orchestra; and A Choral Fantasia, performed by Janet Baker, Ian Partridge, the Purcell Singers, and the English Chamber Orchestra lead by the composer's daughter, composer and conductor Imogen Holst.

EMI recorded the main item, The Planets, with the London Philharmonic in 1978, not long after Sir Adrian's previous stereo recording of it with the New Philharmonia, also for EMI. The sound is typical of what we came to know from Boult's LPO recordings: It's warm, a little soft most of the time, slightly harsh in the loudest passages, with a modest degree of low-end overhang veiling the midrange. Deepest bass is fine and dynamics are wide, but the recording as a whole is not quite in the demonstration class, the overall effect one seemingly designed for pleasant, easy listening rather than anything truly exceptional. The other items, which range in recording dates from 1964 to 1984, vary somewhat in sonic quality but mostly sound good, with the Previn/LSO recordings standing out for their clarity and impact.

JJP

Holst: The Planets (CD review)

Also, Asteroids.  Sir Simon Rattle, Berlin Philharmonic Orchestras.  EMI Classics 0946 3 69690 2 (2-disc set).

Gimmicks, gimmicks, gimmicks.  If you ain't got a gimmick these days, you ain't got a record. I mean, how often have record companies issued Gustav Holst's The Planets?  Maybe 800 times in stereo alone? So, the gimmick here is that EMI not only added Colin Matthews's "Pluto" to the Planets lineup, but they included a second disc called "Asteroids," additional space-related compositions, plus a "Making-of" video enhanced for computers. I wish I could say much of it works.

Sir Simon Rattle had already recorded The Planets digitally for EMI with the Philharmonia Orchestra, so why he thought he needed to do it again is anybody's guess. Certainly, the performance seems not much different than before. It's still a fairly conventional interpretation to my ears, with Matthews's "Pluto" having the unfortunate distinction of not being up to the quality of Holst's work and the celestial Pluto not even being a full-fledged planet anymore.

Then, on a second disc there are four brief, spacey works:  Kaija Saariaho's "Asteroid 4179"; Matthias Pintscher's "Towards Osiris"; Mark-Anthony Turnage's "Ceres"; and Brett Dean's "Komarov's Fall." They last from four-to-seven minutes each, and with the exception of Turnage's piece, which turns somewhat jazzy in the middle, they sound a little like sci-fi movie soundtracks.

Also, with Rattle in charge of one of the most gorgeous-sounding orchestras in the world, it continually mystifies why he or EMI seem to insist upon doing most of his new albums live. I suppose it's a cost-saving move, but still.... This album is described as having been "recorded in concert: March 15-18, 2006, Philhrmonie, Berlin." Unfortunately, the sound is ordinary at best, often clear and realistic in the upper midrange and treble but just as often vague and ineffectual, without much in the way of strong dynamics or deep-bass support. Just listen to Andre Previn's much older EMI recording (or Adrian Boult's EMI recording, for that matter) and check out how much better The Planets can really sound.

JJP

Holst: The Planets; Britten: Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra (CD Review)

Paavo Jarvi, Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra. Telarc CD-80743.

A lot of Holst's music seems raucous to me, but his masterpiece, The Planets, remains one of the mainstays of the classical catalogue for good reason. These little tone poems, based on both the planetary bodies and the Greek gods, show infinite variety and imagination. With endless opportunities for a bravura performance and showcase sound, it's no wonder so many conductors and record companies choose to put it on disc.

While Paavo Jarvi's reading of The Planets is perhaps not in the same league as Adrian Boult's performance (EMI) interpretively or Andre Previn's recording (EMI) sonically, it's serviceable and has the advantage of ultrasmooth sonics and the coupling of Britten's Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra. One could do worse.

Jarvi starts out well with "Mars, the Bringer of War," taking its somewhat goofy march at a fairly healthy clip, yet keeping in mind the martial energy it must convey. Jarvi builds up a good head of steam that should satisfy most listeners. The calm of "Venus, the Bringer of Peace" makes an apt contrast, and Jarvi manages the transition nicely. "Mercury, the Winged Messenger" and "Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity" could have used a touch more humor, but they're OK. "Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age" has always struck me as being the downer in the set, and nothing Jarvi does or doesn't do can change that. "Uranus, the Magician" is without a doubt the real barnburner among the segments of The Planets, and for the longest time I've used Previn's recording (EMI-Toshiba) as a demo piece. Unfortunately, Jarvi tends to rush the movement, substituting speed for excitement or intrigue. "Neptune, the Mystic" concludes on an appropriately tranquil note, disappearing quietly into the ether as it should.

Benjamin Britten wrote his Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra for a 1946 educational film that illustrated the sounds of various instruments in a symphony orchestra. Although Britten's own Decca recording has always been a personal favorite, Jarvi's makes a fine second choice. The conductor gives every instrument its proper due as well as making the Henry Purcell music on which it's based sound fresh and new.

As to the sonics, Telarc recorded the Holst in 2008 and the Britten in 2006, using essentially the same recording equipment, the same recording venue, and the same recording engineer, Michael Bishop. Yet they sound different. The Holst needs more bottom-end oomph, a more prominent bass than it gets here. The Britten, however, does have the needed bass; in fact, it reminds one of the kind of bass punch for which Telarc has always been famous. Both recordings maintain Telarc's well-known fullness and smoothness, although the Holst tends to get a little more congested than the Britten in its loudest passages. One can notice this most obviously in the first movement of the Holst. Otherwise, the sound of both works is quite easy on the ear, if a little less transparent than it could be.

JJP