French Cello Concertos (CD review)

Saint-Saens, Lalo, Milhaud, Offenbach, Massenet. Hee-Young Lim, cello; Scott Yoo, London Symphony Orchestra. Sony Classical S80425C.

Her current recording, "French Cello Concertos," is the debut album for Korean cellist Hee-Young Lim, who has made quite a name for herself in the past few years. Not only has she won major international competitions, she is Principal Solo Cellist of the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra and the first Korean cello professor at the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing. She tours as a soloist and recitalist and performs with the world's leading orchestras. It's no wonder, then, that so big and prestigious a record label as Sony Classical wanted to promote her first release.

Supported by conductor Scott Yoo and the London Symphony Orchestra, Ms. Lim performs five well-known cello pieces by French composers: Saint-Saens, Lalo, Milhaud, Offenbach, and Massenet. Not that there is exactly a surplus of cello concertos to play, though. The poor cello, a descendent of the bass violin, didn't find a serious place for itself until well into the Baroque period, and even then it held a limited position. Bach wrote his six cello suites, of course; later Haydn wrote a couple of cello concertos and Beethoven a few cello sonatas. Yet it wasn't until the later Romantic period that the cello began to flourish, with Schumann, Dvorak, and Brahms writing concertos for it. Then, the twentieth century saw a greater blossoming of material for the instrument. Anyway, the major attraction here, Saint-Saens's cello concerto, came somewhat late in the Romantic era, 1872, by which time the cello had firmly established itself as a commonly accepted part of the orchestral picture.

So, the first thing up is the Concerto for Violin and Orchestra No. 1 in A by Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921). Written in one continuous movement split into three separate sections with interrelated ideas, Saint-Saens's concerto was unconventional for its time. Nevertheless, it became a favorite of cellists and composers everywhere, some of them like Rachmaninov and Shostakovich declaring it the greatest of all cello concertos.

Hee-Young Lim

The concerto keeps the solo instrument in the foreground almost the whole time, and Ms. Lim takes advantage of this situation with playing of steadfast command. Yet unlike so many other soloists, she never tries to dominate the music with the force of her personality. The musical lines are always clean and direct, the passion expressed through the score itself, not her own virtuosity. This is not to say she isn't a marvel to listen to; she is an accomplished musician and the concerto's finale is an amazing whirlwind of notes. But she is also a delicate, introspective musician, and much of her talent is in the nuances of her playing. In other words, while there are more bravura performances you can find, there are none more sensitively committed.

Next, and maybe equally famous, is the Concerto for Cello and Orchestra in d minor by Edouard Lalo (1823-92), which he wrote in 1876. He arranged it in a more traditional style than Saint-Saens did his concerto a few years earlier, and perhaps because of its strong hints of Spanish flamenco music, it gets its fair share of performances and recordings. Ms. Lim takes the first two movements at a slightly more leisurely pace than one often hears, and it adds a sweet tone that complements the nature of this Spanish-influenced French music. It's an elegant reading, full of operatic color and character in its first two movements and a whole lot of zest in its final moments.

After that we find the Cello Concerto No. 1 by Darius Milhaud (1892-1974). Written in 1934, its more modern and jazz-inflected disposition is notably different from that of the more Romantic Saint-Saens and Lalo pieces. Milhaud's work relies less on pure melody and more on displays of seemingly indiscriminate mood swings from lyrical tenderness to somber reflection to a nearly cheerful giddiness. The oddness of the music continues despite a lovely opening stretch that Ms. Lim makes the most of before Milhaud starts going in all directions at once. Give Ms. Lim credit for holding the work together so well and having it come through so engagingly.

Following the three concertos, we get two shorter pieces: Les larmes de Jacqueline ("The Tears of Jacqueline") by Jacques Offenbach (1819-80) and the familiar "Meditation" from the opera Thais by Jules Massenet (1842-1912). They are the icing on the cake and bring the program to a satisfying end.

Producer Michael Fine and engineer Jin Choi recorded the music at Abbey Road Studios, London in July 2018. And what a pleasure it is to hear the London Symphony back recording at Abbey Road, the scene of so many of their previous successes. As I said earlier, the cello is in the forefront of the musical activity, which is, I suppose, the way it ought to be. In any case, the sound is precise, well defined, solid, and robust. The cello carries plenty of weight and makes a firm impression on the ear. The orchestra is almost secondary, but it, too, sounds splendid, with clean detailing, strong dynamics, and a realistic sense of presence. In fact, the sound of the LSO reminded me a lot of the sound of their EMI recordings of the late Sixties and Seventies, and that is high praise, indeed.

JJP

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

Dvorak: Cello Concerto (SACD review)

Also, Lalo: Cello Concerto. Johannes Moser, cello; Jukub Hrusa, PKF - Prague Philharmonia. Pentatone PTC 5186 488.

The relatively young German-Canadian cellist Johannes Moser (b. 1979) had by the time of this album already recorded the cello concertos of Saint-Saens, Britten, Shostakovich, Martinu, Honegger, and Hindemith. Now, let's face it: for a cellist, the concerto repertoire is not all that large (in fact, for many years, composers sort of shunned the cello as a solo concerto instrument, with J.S. Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, and the like pretty much ignoring it except in chamber works). So it's no wonder Moser turned next to what is probably the most-famous cello of them all, the Dvorak. With fine accompaniment from Maestro Jukub Hrusa and the PKF-Prague Philharmonia, an apt coupling of the Lalo cello concerto, and fine Pentatone SACD sonics, this package makes a welcome appearance.

Czech composer Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904) wrote his Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104 rather late in his career (1895), the work since becoming one of the most-popular cello concertos of all time. So popular that you'll find some excellent recordings of it by any number of artists, like those of Mstislav Rostropovich (DG), Yo-Yo Ma (Sony), Pierre Fournier (DG), Jacqueline du Pre (EMI), Leonard Rose (Sony), Gregor Piatigorsky (RCA), Lynn Harrell (RCA), Pablo Casals (EMI and Dutton Labs), Paul Tortelier (EMI), Rafael Wallfisch (Chandos), Truls Mork (EMI), Maurice Gendron (Philips or HDTT), and my own favorite, Janos Starker (Mercury), among others.

Here, we add Moser. As the Cello Concerto contains an abundance of attractive melodies, it gives Moser and company ample opportunity for displaying nuance, sensitivity, and a little sentimentality. For instance, Dvorak wrote the slow, second-movement Adagio while his much-beloved sister-in-law lay dying, and he used one of her favorite pieces of music as a central theme. In it, he creates a lovely, explosively gentle, faintly melancholic mood, which Moser exploits with appropriate passion and tenderness.

Whatever, Moser's tempos seem well within the ballpark for most other interpretations I've heard, yet his playing seems more relaxed than many others. For some listeners, this will be a good sign. For other listeners, he may appear somewhat lax, maybe too slack. Certainly, it would play up the differences in emphases and contrasts in the work if Moser had put more energy into the more vigorous sections. This isn't much of a criticism, though, as the overall impression of the work under Moser is one of big, warm, sweet, solitary contemplation, even in the more-explosive bits.

Johannes Moser

In the Finale, we get more fire and heroics from both the soloist and the orchestra than we heard previously from them. Nevertheless, even here Moser and his team seem a little reticent to let completely loose. In other words, the performance seems maybe a touch too sedate for its own good.

So, the final question is whether this recording from Moser and company is any better than the several recordings I mentioned above. The answer is, probably not. There is an ardent, honeyed glow about Moser's rendition, to be sure, that will no doubt appeal to many listeners. However, for me there wasn't quite enough there to justify the price of yet another competitor in an already crowded field of contenders.

The accompanying Cello Concerto in D minor by French composer Edouard Lalo (1823-1892) may not be as well-known as the Dvorak, but it is close, and the French work is almost as ambitious and communicative. With the Lalo, Moser's easygoing style works better than it did in the Dvorak. It's a charming and engaging interpretation, even if the orchestra's contributions appeared to me a mite too staid to do justice to Moser's amiable, stress-free manner.

Producer Job Maarse and engineers Erdo Groot and Roger de Schot recorded the music for Polyhymnia International V.V. at the Forum Karlin, Prague, Czech Republic in January 2015. They made it for playback via hybrid SACD: multichannel or two-channel from the SACD layer and two-channel only from the regular CD layer. I listened in two-channel SACD.

The sound provides a glowing, natural, very slightly soft ambience that makes everything appear fairly lifelike. You won't perhaps get an ultimate transparency here, just realistic reproduction. There is a reasonably good stereo spread, with a fine sense of depth to the orchestra. There is also a very slight bit of background noise, barely audible but present. The dynamic range seems more than adequate, although I didn't hear as much impact as I expected. The cello is slightly bigger than life, maybe recorded a little too close. Still, it, too, sounds most truthful on its own. It's a handsome production, sounding much like the Philips recordings of old, which I count a good thing.

JJP

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

Tchaikovsky: Variations on a Rococo Theme (CD review)

Also, Faure: Elegie; Saint-Saens and Lalo: Cello Concertos. Paul Tortelier, cello; Herbert Menges, Philharmonia Orchestra; Louis Fremaux, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. EMI Classics 7243 4 76868-2.

As you no doubt know, before Warner Classics acquired EMI's catalogue of music, EMI had repackaged a lot of their older material into mid-priced sets under the banners "Great Recordings of the Century" and "Great Artists of the Century." It's was as good a way as any of getting people's attention. In the case of this disc, the "Great Artist" is cellist Paul Tortelier (1914-1990), and he certainly seems worthy of the praise.

EMI made most of Tortelier's recordings from the 1950's onward, so the company had a good back catalogue of things to choose from. On this album, the cellist plays Tchaikovsky's Variations on a Rococo Theme; Faure's Elegie in C minor; Saint-Saens's Cello Concerto and Allegro appassionato; and Lalo's Cello Concerto. The performances are, as we would expect, uniformly excellent, displaying the musician's ability to produce strong, sleek, outgoing passages as well as quiet, introspective ones. Moreover, Maestros Herbert Menges and Louis Fremaux admirably accompany him with the Philharmonia and City of Birmingham Orchestras respectively.

Paul Tortelier

The controversial part of the disc, however, may be its sound. Understandably, there are going to be some differences from track to track, given that the recordings range in date from 1955 to 1975. The earliest ones, with the Philharmonia, are in both in mono (the Saint-Saens Concerto and the Faure) and stereo (the Saint-Saens Allegro and the Tchaikovsky). The most-recent recording, with the City of Birmingham Symphony, naturally is in stereo (the Lalo).

Yet it appears that the EMI engineers made a conscious effort to ensure that they all sounded as much alike as possible. Namely, they all seem a touch bright and lean. Now, understand, this is how most of EMI's Fifties' stereo sounded, but it is not necessarily how the Birmingham Symphony recordings sounded. Here's the interesting part: I have the same Lalo Concerto as here on an early EMI Studio CD, and comparing the older mastering to this new remaster, the old disc sounds slightly warmer, richer, and less bright. Did EMI intentionally brighten up the Lalo to make it fit in with the sound of the rest of selections this time out? I don't know. The other minor problem is that the early stereo in the Tchaikovsky piece tends slightly to favor the left side of the sound stage.

In any case, the sonics are never a distraction, and with playing of such distinction, I doubt anyone will care if they are. Even the mono sounds pretty good, fuller and better tonally balanced than most of the stereo on the disc; so, as I say, I can't imagine too many listeners complaining, especially if said listeners are already Tortelier fans.

JJP

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

Lalo: Symphonie espagnole (CD review)

Also, Ravel: Tzigane; Saint-Saens: Havanaise; Sarasate: Carmen Fantasy. Howard Zhang, violin; Takuo Yuasa, Nicolaus Esterhazy Sinfonia. Naxos 8.555093.

The composers are French and Spanish. The violinist was born in China. The conductor is Japanese. The orchestra is Hungarian. Naxos pressed the disc in Canada. And Naxos originated as a German-based operation, pressing most of its discs in Germany. They don't call Naxos an international company for nothing.

Anyway, you could do a lot worse than spending what Naxos or a secondhand vendor asks for this splendid reissued disc of French and Spanish music. The young violinist, Howard Zhang, was born in Shanghai in 1984, and moved to the U.S. in 1989. He is dynamic and virtuosic; the accompaniment from the Nicolaus Esterhazy Sinfonia under the direction of Tajuo Yuasa appears fairly refined and accommodating; and, best of all, the sound is among the best Naxos has done.

The Symphonie espagnole is especially engrossing, not only because it doesn't get recorded nearly as often as it should but because Mr. Zhang plays it so enthusiastically. Despite its title, the so-called "symphonie" is actually a concerto for violin, and as such it amply displays the violinist's prowess with his instrument. Zhang is quite brilliant, and if his fervor sometimes overrides his subtlety, well, it's the spirit that counts. The performance is full of energy and verve, directly and simply communicated.

The Ravel, Saint-Saens, and Sarasate pieces show Zhang's less passionate side as well, yet still display a good deal of showmanship. While there are already many fine recordings of the Tzigane, Havanaise, and Carmen Fantasy in the catalogue, Zhang's interpretations are at least as persuasive as most of them.

Naxos's sound is wide ranging and reasonably natural. It was only when I put on an old disc of the Symphonie with Tortelier, Fremaux, and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (EMI, 1976) that I noticed the extra clarity, definition, and bite in the older recording. But given that the older disc, issued on EMI's Studio label, no longer seems available and is probably hard to find, I have no hesitation recommending this Naxos issue at an affordable price.

JJP

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

Lalo: Symphonie espagnole (CD review)

Also, Saint-Saens: Violin Concerto No. 3; Ravel:  Tzigane. Maxim Vengerov, violin; Antonio Pappano, Philharmonia Orchestra. Warner Classics.

Maybe at the time I wrote this review it was French composer Edouard Lalo's (1832–92) turn in the sun. I had no sooner reviewed a Naxos disc of the Symphonie espagnole, saying it didn't get recorded nearly as often as it should, than this 2003 release of the Symphonie arrived from EMI with Maxim Vengerov playing the violin, Antonio Pappano directing, and Philharmonia Orchestra in support. If I had some minor qualifications about the Naxos issue, I had no such reservations about the EMI and can continue to recommend it heartily, reissued under its new label, Warner Classics.

The Symphonie espagnole, which despite its title is actually a concerto for violin, is  fine, of course, and Vengerov plays it with appropriate sparkle, polish, and élan. But it's really the accompanying piece, the Third Violin Concerto by French composer and pianist Camille Saint-Saens (1835–1921), that knocked me over, especially the work's slow middle movement, the Andantino. I've seldom heard it sound so ravishingly beautiful and expressive. It's probably the one piece by Saint-Saens that comes closest to the serene loveliness of his "Swan" from the Carnival of the Animals, and Vengerov makes the most of it.

Anyway, Vengerov produces a ravishing tone with his violin, and Pappano and the Philharmonia Orchestra provide sympathetic support in both works. Along with a brilliant performance of Maurice Ravel's Tzigane, Rhapsody de concert the program makes a most-attractive hour or so of music making.

Like the Naxos disc I had listened to previously, the EMI disc sounds wide ranging and natural, but with the added benefit of greater clarity. For this review, I compared the 2003 EMI to an older, 1976 EMI disc of the Symphonie with violinist Yan Pascal Tortelier, Maestro Louis Fremaux, and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, plus a newer, 2013 Warner Classics disc with violinist Alexandre Da Costa, Maestro Carlos Kalmar, and the Orquesta Sinfonica de Ratio Television Espanola. Here, it was the Vengerov disc that sounded slightly more open and more transparent to me. I still have no hesitation recommending the Naxos, the earlier EMI, the later Warner Classics disc, or even some real oldies including Heifetz and Stern, among others, but if one wants to sample all of the best, the Vengerov disc (as I say, now available from Warner Classics, who took over the EMI label) is well worth one's investment of time and money.

JJP

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

Lalo: Symphonie Espagnole (CD review)

Also, Namouna, Suites 1 and 2; Scherzo in D minor. Alexandre Da Costa, violin; Carlos Kalmar, Orquesta Sinfonica de Ratio Television Espanola. Warner Classics 2564 65711-4.

Is it just me, or does it appear as though certain composers go in and out of vogue every few years? It seems like twenty or thirty years ago, everybody was recording Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole. Then, either I didn’t notice or nobody appeared interested in the man or his music. OK, you’re right; it’s probably just me. In any case, this new Warner Classics disc from Canadian violinist Alexandre Da Costa pleased me and brought back a ton of old memories.

The French composer Édouard-Victoire-Antoine Lalo (1823-1892) wrote a number of works, but people today probably know him best for his Symphonie Espagnole in D minor, Op. 21, for violin and orchestra (1874). Interestingly, Tchaikovsky also liked the piece, and when he heard it and played it through himself, it so influenced him that he dropped everything and wrote his own violin concerto. But that’s another story. The one here is about Da Costa’s performance of the work, and how he and Maestro Carlos Kalmar view it.

The accompanying booklet note advises that a listener first hear a few other recordings of the work before trying Da Costa’s interpretation, suggesting that the listener will find Da Costa’s version much less hurried, much less fierce. So I did just that: I put on Yan Pascal Tortelier’s EMI recording with Louis Fremaux and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and listened to the opening Allegro non troppo. Tortelier was, indeed, faster and more overtly exciting. However, I also noticed that Da Costa was remarkably versatile, both in the lyrical as well as the more bravura passages. He takes his time developing the music, providing plenty of color as well as a deep sense of melancholy. You’ll find little that is in the light French tradition here, even though Lalo was French. Da Costa’s rendition is thoroughly Spanish inflected, filled with strong emotions and high drama.

Da Costa says, again in the booklet note, that “a conductor once told me, ‘If you play fast and you accelerate, it just shows fear. If you play slower and hold your tempo, it shows strength.’ That’s the key for me when I play Spanish music.” This style is particularly evident in the second-movement Scherzando, which comes off beautifully and is probably the most Spanish-sounding music on the disc.

Lalo’s Intermezzo, a kind of habanera, is full of power and passion. The composer said he wanted the work to be foremost a violin solo soaring above a conventional symphony, and that’s the way Da Costa and Kalmar play it.

The Andante begins gravely but soon gives way to a lovely, flowing melody on the violin, which Da Costa appears to take great joy in playing. Lastly, the performers provide a thrilling Rondo finale in grand fashion where they demonstrate their mastery of Spanish romanticism.

As a coupling, Maestro Kalmar and his orchestra offer two suites (of five movements each) from Lalo’s oft-neglected ballet Namouna. Its lighter moments are its best ones, and Kalmar brings out what must be the best in the score. While neither the suites nor the concluding Scherzo in D minor are among the most-memorable music you can find, it is all pleasant enough, with a ton of atmosphere and theatrics.

Producer and engineer Phil Rowlands recorded the music in 2012 at the Teatro Monumental, Madrid, Spain. The results he obtained sound excellent, very clean and very clear, with a quick, well-focused transient impact, a wide dynamic range, good midrange transparency, and well-extended highs. The stereo spread is also impressive, as is the overall clarity, if it also sounds a trifle hard. The orchestra is a tad close, but the violin sounds especially natural, with good bite and resonance. Compared to the aforementioned EMI-Tortelier recording, however, the Warner sonics could use more depth and greater warmth. Still, without the side-by-side comparison (which the Warner booklet invites, understand), the sound of the Warner Classics is quite fine.

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

JJP