Recent Releases No. 79 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

 Fred Hersch, Drew Gress, Joey Baron

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

Bartok: Concerto for Orchestra (SACD review)

Also, Kodaly: Concerto for Orchestra. Jakub Hrusa, Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin. Pentatone PTC 5186 626.

The last time I heard a recording by Czech conductor Jakub Hrusa, he was doing Dvorak tone poems. I said at the time that I thought he was a little conservative for my taste. This time out, he is doing two concertos for orchestra by the Hungarian composers Bela Bartok and Zoltan Kodaly, both pieces requiring a red-blooded approach. While Maestro Hrusa still seems to favor a fairly cautious reading of the scores, his interpretations are undoubtedly appealing in their own way.

Bela Bartok (1881-1945) wrote his five-movement Concerto for Orchestra in 1943, during the height of the Second World War. The composer was near the end of his career, and the work has since become one of his most-popular and most-accessible compositions, so he went out in style. However, the title of the piece is something of a misnomer because the music's form doesn't really resemble a traditional concerto. Bartok's Concerto is in five movements instead of the conventional three, and it involves no solo instruments. He said he called it a "concerto" because of the way the score treats each section of instruments in "a soloistic and virtuosic way." Fair enough.

Bartok's concerto begins with some soft, light "night music," giving way to more robust themes as things move along. The second movement, titled "Game of Pairs," has a different pair of instruments playing together in five sections. The middle movement is a slow elegy, also of the "night music" variety, a sorrowful lament. The fourth movement is an Allegretto, a smoothly flowing affair, which includes much folk music as well as a reference to Lehar's Merry Widow (although the composer claimed never to have heard the operetta, only Shostakovich's play on it). The work concludes with another big movement, labeled Finale - Pisante (heavy or ponderous), which most conductors nevertheless take at a moderately quick, high-spirited pace.

Jakub Hrusa

I like the way Hrusa opens the concerto; it's appropriately mysterious, even eerie. Then he takes an almost lyrical approach to the big melodies, which is pleasantly refreshing if slightly unexpected. Tempos throughout are leisurely, relaxed, though not sluggish. I was hoping for more bite, but it never materialized. There is an agreeably sedate playfulness about Hrusa's "Pairs" that seems in tune with the occasion. Next, Hrusa's third-movement elegy is in part haunting and in part dragging. It's actually a hard act to pull off, so I'd give him credit for trying. I liked Hrusa's treatment of the fourth movement; perhaps it's the conductor's own love of folk music that carries the day. The orchestra, too, responds splendidly to the light rhythms. In the finale, Hrusa lets go a bit more, even if he's still somewhat tame compared to some other conductors.

I know that a lot of readers would prefer that I not compare recordings to one another at all, that I should judge each new disc on its own merits alone. But I've never been able to do that. Other, favored recordings always come to mind as I'm listening to something new. So, for me the question arises, Is Hrusa's performance (and Pentatone's sound) any better or worse than my old standbys in the Bartok: Fritz Reiner's interpretation (RCA or JVC remasters) or either of Georg Solti's renditions (Decca)? I'd say Hrusa's reading is smoother, softer, gentler than either of my comparisons. Reiner is more acute, more incisive, and Solti is bolder and more brusque. I suppose it's just a matter of how you like your Bartok; personally, I still prefer the older recordings.

Zoltan Kodaly (1882-1967), a friend, contemporary, and fellow countryman of Bartok, wrote his own Concerto for Orchestra in 1939-40, a few years earlier than Bartok's concerto. Kodaly's work has never attained the level of popularity that Bartok's has, and it is much shorter, a single movement divided into five brief segments. That said, it does have its charms. As Jorg Peter Urbach writes in a booklet note, it's "a captivating combination of Baroque 'architecture' and Hungarian folk music." Hrusa gives it his full attention, and like his realization of the fourth movement of the Bartok, the performance displays a brisk bounce and sensitivity.

Producer Job Maarse and engineers Jean-Marie Geijsen and Erdo Groot recorded the concertos at Haus des Rundfunks, Berlin in June 2017. They produced it for playback via hybrid SACD, so one can play it in multichannel or two-channel SACD on an SACD player or in two-channel stereo on a regular CD player. As usual, I listened in two-channel SACD, using a Sony SACD player.

The sound is typical of Pentatone in that it's warm and luxuriant, with a nice sense of ambient bloom that doesn't overshadow all of the music's detail. Orchestral perspective and depth of field are reasonably good, as are the dynamic range and frequency response. In other words, the sound may not be entirely what audiophiles expect, but it is acceptably realistic and easy on the ear.

JJP

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

Antal Dorati Conducts Albeniz, Kodaly & Prokofiev (CD review)

Antal Dorati, Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra, London Symphony Orchestra. HDTT remastered.

If you're an audiophile, I don't need to tell you that a lot of folks have prized the mid 1950's to early 1960's recordings from RCA "Living Stereo" and Mercury "Living Presence" as collector's items. So it's always a pleasure to hear another of the latter recordings from this era remastered by HDTT (High Definition Tape Transfers), this time with Antal Dorati and the Minneapolis Symphony from 1956-57 and the London Symphony from 1957.

First up are five of the twelve piano "impressions" from Iberia by Spanish composer and pianist Isaac Albeniz (1860–1909), orchestrated by E. Fernandez Arbos. Color and atmosphere fill the music, and those are things Hungarian-born conductor Dorati (1906-1988) did exceptionally well. This is important because Arbos's orchestration is lush and varied, and Dorati does it justice throughout all the sections.

Next is the Hary Janos Suite by Hungarian composer Zoltan Kodaly (1882–1967). Kodaly extracted the orchestral suite from his comic opera of the same name, which he prefaced saying, "Hary is a peasant, a veteran soldier who day after day sits at the tavern spinning yarns about his heroic exploits. The stories released by his imagination are an inextricable mixture of realism and naivety, of comic humour and pathos." The music begins with an orchestral "sneeze," and from there it gets even more picturesque as it goes along. Dorati gives the piece a fine combination of vigor and excitement, and the Minneapolis players provide him all the zip and polish the work needs.

Antal Dorati

The final item on the program is the six-movement concert suite from the comic opera The Love of Three Oranges by Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev (1891–1953). If anything, this work is more outwardly exciting than the others, and again Dorati is up the challenge. What's more, the LSO play with all the zeal the music needs, so we get another triumph from the conductor and orchestra.

If I had to find any fault in the album (which I don't have to but will anyway, because, you know, it's what critics do), it's that the there are only three track points, one for each major item. I would have liked track points for each selection within each suite. Oh, well, a minor quibble.

Producer Wilma Cozart (Fine), editor Harold Lawrence, and engineer C. R. Fine recorded the Kodaly at the Northrop Memorial Auditorium, Minneapolis, Minnesota in November 1956; the Albeniz in April 1957; and the Prokofiev at Watford Town Hall, London, England in July 1957. HDTT transferred the recordings from Mercury two-track tapes.

The recordings from Minneapolis are as vivid as they can be. Highs seem a trifle hard and sharp at times, but, otherwise, the sound is as spectacular as a listener could want. I remember owning these recordings on vinyl many years ago, but I don't remember them sounding as good as they do here. The frequency and dynamic ranges are very wide, with strong impact all through the spectrum and as quick a transient response as you'll find. The midrange sounds beautifully balanced and transparent. The stereo spread is wide without being too close up. The London recording is similarly clear and dynamic, but it adds a touch more roundness and resonance from Watford Town Hall, making it even more lifelike. Really fine listening.

For further information on HDTT products, prices, discs, and downloads in a variety of formats, you can visit their Web site at http://www.highdeftapetransfers.com/.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click on the forward arrow:

Bartok: Music for strings, percussion and celeste (CD review)

Also, Divertimento for String Orchestra; Kodaly: Dances of Galanta. Sir Charles Mackerras, Scottish Chamber Orchestra. Linn Records Echo BKD 234.

For me at least, the name of Australian conductor Sir Charles Mackerras (1925-2010) doesn't usually conjure up thoughts of Hungarian music (Czech, maybe, but not Hungarian), yet in 2004 this album of Mackerras conducting Hungarian composers Bartok and Kodaly appears to have been such a hit with the public that Linn Records decided to rerelease it in 2015. It is understandable why they did so: The album is quite appealing for both its performances and its sound.

Mackerras begins the program with Dances of Galanta by Zoltan Kodaly (1882-1967), which the composer wrote in 1933 for the 80th anniversary of the Budapest Philharmonic Society. He based the piece on the folk music of a small town called Galanta, where he had lived for a few years. Maestro Mackerras brings out the gypsy inflections in lively enough fashion, yet he adds a note of grace to the proceedings as well. These are not just helter-skelter interpretations by a conductor trying to impress upon his listeners the bustle and excitement of the music; Mackerras genuinely sees this material as having serious worth, and he provides a finely accentuated, fluidly rhythmic rendering of the dances.

Next up is the centerpiece of the album, the Music for strings, percussion and celeste by Bela Bartok (1881-1945), which he wrote in 1936 to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the chamber orchestra Basler Kammerorchester. It has since become one of the composers most well-known pieces of music. It is, of course, somewhat odd and eerie, with several of my favorite recordings of it coming from fairly different approaches: Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra (EMI) is most eloquent; Georg Solti and the Chicago Symphony (Decca) is more brazen and robust; and Fritz Reiner and the Chicago Symphony (RCA) is probably the best all-around. But then we have Mackerras, who adds a greater element of lyricism to the mix.

Mackerras's way with the music is very atmospheric, very imaginative, and poetic, too. The string arrangement is such that the piece takes on an added quality of three-dimensionality, which sounds quite effective here in Linn's recording, even if the Scottish Chamber Orchestra is smaller than Bartok probably envisioned. Mackerras maintains the rhythmic thrust of the piece without sacrificing any balance or poise. Although he never rushes things, the tempos appear well judged, with none of the movements too frenetic or too slack.

Sir Charles Mackerras

Mackerras closes the show with Bartok's Divertimento for String Orchestra, written in 1939 on commission from the founder of the Basler Kammerorchester. The conductor continues here his policy of musical refinement, keeping its diverse mood swings fully compatible with one another. The transitions are so smooth, we no longer have any fear that the three movements are going to come from entirely different places. Mackerras apparently sees the piece as an organic whole and treats it as such. All the thrills and passion are here, along with the anguish and compassion.

Additionally, I'd like to add a shout-out to the Scottish Chamber Orchestra. They seem to me as good as any chamber orchestra in the world, with a crisp attack, a warm articulation, and a rich overall tone. They sound at least as refined as the English Chamber Orchestra, and that's high praise, indeed.

Producer Tim Oldham and engineers Philip Hobbs and Calum Malcolm recorded the music at Usher Hall, Edinburgh, UK in February and March 2004, Linn Records issuing it the same year. Linn rereleased the disc in 2015 under their "Echo" label. The sound is spacious without being hollow or cavernous, full and natural without being bright or dull. It sounds perfectly natural and appropriately dimensional, pretty much the live sound of a chamber orchestra I chanced to hear the night before I listened to this disc. The midrange is not super-analytical but provides a good deal of inner detail; the frequency extremes are about where they should be, with good extension, especially in the highs; and the dynamics are wide, strong, and solid. This is impressively lifelike sound, the kind we have come to expect from Linn.

JJP

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

A Folk Song Runs Through It (CD review)

Piano music of Bartok, Janacek, and Kodaly. Andrew Rangell, piano. Steinway & Sons 30018.

Certainly, the folk music of the United States is rich and varied, but the folk music of central Europe is just as rich and varied, maybe more so, and has the distinction of being older. The Hungarian composers Bela Bartok (1881-1945) and Zoltan Kodaly (1882-1967) and the Czech composer Leos Janacek (1854-1928) drew upon the vast folk melodies handed down in their countries for generations, and on the present disc American pianist Andrew Rangell (b. 1948) plays several of these composers’ best folk-inspired piano works.

Rangell practices a light, often delicate touch on the piano, an approach that serves him well in the slower, airier scores. Nevertheless, he maintains a good deal of power in reserve, making his technique not only dramatically virtuosic but uncommonly sensitive and diverse as well. A short biography of Mr. Rangell indicates that he holds a doctorate in piano and has just recently recovered from a severe hand injury that sidelined his career for some seven years. I wonder if sometimes tragedy can’t be a blessing in disguise if you use it to your advantage, in this case forcing the pianist into a style he might not have adopted earlier. I would love to hear him return to recording Chopin (he released the Mazurkas for the Dorian label in 2003; now perhaps Steinway can persuade him to do the Etudes, Preludes, Waltzes, and such).

Anyway, the album begins with Janacek’s In the Mists, a four-part piano work that nicely complements the more-ethereal side of Rangell’s playing. Janacek wrote In the Mists in 1912, a few years after the death of his daughter and while Prague opera houses were still rejecting his compositions. Rangell concentrates on the music’s impressionistic atmosphere and comfortably conveys its sweet, melancholy flavor. It’s the second-movement, marked Molto adagio, that actually sounds the most folk inflected, and Rangell gives it an appropriately rustic, Romantic flair, while keeping the other parts lilting and flowing.

Next up are Bartok’s Improvisations on Hungarian Peasant Songs (1920), followed by six Romanian Folk Dances (1915). The Improvisations are a collection of eight interconnected segments and range from poignant lullabies to bawdy tavern songs. Rangell takes it from a hushed whisper to a full thrust. I can’t say I enjoyed all of the sections equally--some are too raucous and blustery for my taste--but when Rangell is playing the softer stuff, he’s pitching a shutout. In any case, the Folk Dances are more to my ear, and Rangell appears to have the full measure of their country fiddle origins in Transylvania. Bartok made clever arrangements of the tunes he found, and Rangell does them justice.

Kodaly wrote Seven Pieces for Piano (1918) after falling under the spell of Debussy, so expect more wispy, mystical, brooding impressionism. The music seems to fit Rangell’s manner perfectly, making them an ideal pairing. Again, while for me it was all a bit too darkly low-key and dour, that doesn’t mean Rangell isn’t affording it all the feeling he can muster.

Rangell then closes the program with Bartok’s Sonata for Piano (1926), which except for the finale is probably the least folk sounding of the music on the disc. Most of it sounds like a dirge, a lament, and here Rangell is at his best conveying various kinds of grief throughout. Still, the music ends in a burst of good cheer with at least one clearly recognizable tune interjected here and there into the melody.  It’s all rather fun and concludes Rangell’s fascinating look at Central European folk-art music just after the turn of the twentieth century.

Producer and soloist Rangell and engineer Tom Stephenson recorded the music for Steinway & Sons at the Shalin Liu Performance Center, Rockport, Massachusetts in May, 2012. The piano sound they obtained appears entirely focused, with a good perspective if miked a tad more distantly than one usually hears. The venue provides a full, resonant acoustic, a mild hall reverberation giving it a realistic presence. Because there is a wide dynamic range involved, the overall volume level is a touch low.

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

JJP

Kodaly: Hary Janos Suite (HQCD review)

Also, Dances of Galanta; arias from Hary Janos. Olga Szonyi, soprano; John Leach, cymbalom; Istvan Kertesz, London Symphony Orchestra. HDTT HQCD257.

Hungarian conductor Istvan Kertesz (1929-1973) produced a remarkable string of successful recordings in his brief career, mainly during the period between 1962 and his untimely death by drowning a decade later. His performances of Bartok, Brahms, Kodaly, Mozart, Schubert, and in particular the nine Dvorak symphonies, most of which he made with the Vienna Philharmonic and as Principal Conductor of the London Symphony, remain among the best in the catalogue. Here we have an example of his work with the music of fellow Hungarian Zoltan Kodaly, a recording remastered by HDTT (High Definition Tape Transfers).

Kodaly (1882-1967) was still alive when Kertesz recorded the Hary Janos Suite and Dances of Galanta in 1964 for Decca Records, and the composer apparently enjoyed the conductor's performances of both pieces, especially the complete Hary Janos opera and the suite we have here. The folk opera Hary Janos (1926) tells of an old peasant soldier who returns to his village to spin yarns about his heroic exploits and fabulous adventures. Kodaly said he intended it to be a "mixture of realism and naivety, of comic humour and pathos." The public so enjoyed it that within the year Kodaly extracted a six-movement orchestral suite from it, which has become more popular today than the opera itself.

The six movements of the Suite bear the titles "Prelude: The Fairy Tale Begins," "Viennese Musical Clock," "Song," "The Battle and Defeat of Napoleon," "Intermezzo," and "Entrance of the Emperor and His Court." The titles are fairly self-explanatory, and Kertesz handles them with a deft touch, catching all of their whimsy and sweet sentiment. Moreover, the London Symphony Orchestra plays extraordinarily well, marking every turn of phrase with a radiant delight.

Under Kertesz, the "Prelude" begins with a sneeze (no, really) and progresses with vigor. The "Clock" displays an abundance of creative verve. The "Song," a lovely piece featuring key roles for various instruments including a cymbalom, is at first leisurely, wistful, gaining momentum in a dreamlike reverie.

"The Battle" segment was always the most demo-worthy part of the recording, largely because of Kertesz's enthusiasm for the subject matter and because of Decca's spectacular sonics. This one won't disappoint. In the "Intermezzo" that follows, Kertesz offers up a tensely effective dramatic contrast. It is also among the more easily recognizable music in the suite. Finally, Kertesz makes the "Emperor and his Court" as joyous and celebratory as any I've heard. It's a wonderfully infectious production.

The accompanying Dances of Galanta (1933) prove equally rewarding--glittering, incisive, lilting, sinewy, and resplendent by turns. Two final arias from the Hary Janos opera--"Poor am I still" and "Once I had a brood of chicks"--bring the album to a close.

This recording, which Decca made at Kingsway Hall in 1964, has always been something of a demonstration piece, and newly remastered by HDTT on an HQCD, it sounds better than ever. The stage is very wide and the sonics very dynamic. The range is enormous, with excellent air and depth to the acoustic. The midrange is impressively clear, if a tad forward and only on occasion a touch congested; the bass is more than adequate; the treble is well extended when necessary; and the separation of instruments is most lifelike. While the sound appears somewhat close up in the manner of much of Decca's work in the Sixties, it is not so close as to detract from the recording's overall realism.

As usual, the folks at HDTT make the music available in a variety of formats for a variety of pocketbooks, from Redbook CD's, 24/96 DVD's, and HQCD's to 24/96 and 24/192 (on select titles) Flac downloads for playback on high-end computer audio systems. For details, visit http://www.highdeftapetransfers.com/storefront.php.

JJP