Four Views of the Holy (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Each of the four recordings reviewed below is of music expressing religious faith. Although the music on all four recordings seeks to express religious faith rooted in the Judeo-Christian tradition, the means of musical expression take decidedly different forms, from quiet contemplation to joyous jubilation. 

 

Arvo Pärt: And I Heard a Voice... Pärt: Nunc dimittis; O Holy Father Nicholas; Sieben Magnificat-Antiphonen; *Für Jan van Eyck; Kleine Litanei; And I heard a voice… Vox Clamantis; Jaan-Eik Tulve, conductor; *Ene Salumäe, organ. ECM New Series 2780 

 

Those readers who follow Classical Candor on a regular basis (thank you!) may recall that we recently reviewed a DG release from the young Latvian pianist Georgjis Osokins of piano music by the Estonian composer Arvo Pärt, who celebrated his 90^th birthday on September 11, 2025 (you can find that review here). But Pärt is more celebrated for his choral compositions, the majority of which center on religious themes and have a sound which evokes feelings of reverence and spirituality. We have also reviewed several choral recordings of Pärt’s music in the past, including a Harmonia Mundi release from 2020 (you can find that review here), a BR Klassik release from 2021 (you can find that review here), and a 2023 ECM release that also includes some works for orchestra (which you can find here). As you can no doubt infer from the titles listed above, this latest release on ECM is suffused with a sense of the holy from start to finish. Founded by conductor Jaan-Eik Tulve in 1996, the Estonian vocal ensemble Vox Clamantis is composed of twelve singers who share a passion for early polyphony and contemporary music, and here they sound just right giving voice to Pärt’s compositions – small enough to bring clarity, but large enough to bring weight. Recorded in Haapsula Cathedral in Estonia, the transparent sound quality allows the listener to get lost in the music. The liner notes discuss the works and include the texts, plus several photographs. It’s a beautiful release.

Radiant Dawn. Alec Roth (b. 1948): *Night Prayer; Thomas Tallis (c1505-1585): O nata lux de lumine; Eleanor Daley (b. 1955): Grandmother Moon; Deborah Pritchard (b. 1977): *The Light Thereof; Sir James MacMillan (b.1959): O Radiant Dawn; Tallis: *Dum transisset Sabbatum; Saint Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179): O gloriosissimi; Roxanna Panufnik: (b.1968): Hearken; Robert White (1538-1574): *Christe, qui lux es dies II; Richard Barnard (b.1977): *Aura; Judith Bingham (b. 1952): Enter Ghost; Owain Park (b.1993): Sommernacht; Joseph Rheinberger 1839-1901): Abenlied; MacMillan: *In splendoribus sanctorum; Geoffrey Burgon (1931-2010): *Nunc dimittis. The Gesualdo Six (Guy James, Alasdair Austin, countertenor; Joseph Wicks, Josh Cooter, tenor; Michael Craddock, baritone; Owain Park, bass); Owain Park, conductor; with *Matilda Lloyd, trumpet. Hyperion CDA68665

 

When I received this album for review, my immediate assumption was that it was a 21^st-century version of an ECM release titled Officium (ECM 1525) from 1994 that featured the vocal quartet The Hilliard Ensemble (David James, countertenor; Rogers Covey-Crump, tenor; John Potter, tenor; Gordon Jones, baritone) accompanied by famed jazz saxophonist Jan Garbarek improvising on his horn as the ensemble sang sacred texts in a monastery, a recording that caught the attention of the general public through radio play and went on to become an unlikely best seller. However, beyond the obvious difference of trumpet rather than saxophone, Radiant Dawn also differs from Officium in that Matilda Lloyd plays a less prominent role than did Jan Garbarek, appearing as she does on fewer than half the tracks; moreover, when she does appear, her trumpet is sometimes not as prominent a part of the musical tapestry as was Garbarek’s saxophone. On the tracks Enter Ghost by Judith Bingham and In splendoribus sanctorum by James MacMillan, however, her trumpet stands front and center. The variety of composers included means that there is no single musical style or textual message to be found here; however, the majority of the tracks are rooted in religion and ritual, and as the liner notes proclaim, “plainchant threads this programme together – sometimes finely woven into the structural framework, and at other times as a fragment of the composer’s imagination.” As usual with with Hyperion, the liner notes are excellent and include texts. Warmly recommended for fans of vocal music.

Joel Ross: Gospel Music. Ross: Wisdom Is Eternal (For Barry Harris); Trinity (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit); Protoevangelium (The First Gospel); Hostile; The Shadowlands; Nevertheless; Word for Word; Repentance; The Sacred Place; A Little Love Goes a Long Way; Frank Schoen: *Praise to You, Lord Jesus Christ; Betty King Jackson: **Calvary; Ross: ***The Giver; To the Throne (The Mercy Seat); Be Patient; The New Man; ****Now and Forevermore.  Joel Ross, vibraphone, celeste, glockenspiel, drums; mellotron; Josh Johnson, alto saxophone; Maria Grand, tenor saxophone; Jeremy Corren, piano; Kanoa Mendenhall, bass; Jeremy Dutton, bass; with *Laura Bibbs, vocals; *Geoff Gallante, piano; **Ehep Nkwelle, vocals; ***Andy Lewis, vocals, guitar; ****Brandee Younger, Harp; ****Laura Bibbs, flugelhorn; ****Austin White, synthesizers. Blue Note 006022488058292

 

This past spring I was fortunate enough to catch Joel Ross’s Good Vibes in concert. The band – the same sextet that form the nucleus here – played nonstop for more than an hour in one continuous stream, musical phrases appearing, getting passed around among the group, disappearing, perhaps to reappear later in a subtly different form or tempo (you can read more about their performance here). The title of the album and the titles of its tracks might well lead many potential listeners to expect Gospel Music to be a collection of church music – hymns, spirituals, and such. Rest assured, friends, this album is a jazz album, not a collection of jazzified instrumental covers of hymn tunes. But that’s not to say it’s not spiritually oriented. According to Ross in the March 2026 issue of the jazz magazine Downbeat, “the album represents nothing less than a musical trip through the Holy Bible.” Ross’s liner notes present a spiritual thought for each of the 17 tracks, along with references to specific Bible verses. But the spirit I hear in the opening track, Wisdom Is Eternal (For Barry Harris), is the spirit of Johann Sebastian Bach, who seems to be hovering invisibly over Ross’s shoulder as he plays (you can watch a video of the group performing "Wisdom Is Eternal” here). While Wisdom has a fairly measured, Bach-like feel, Ross and his fellow players are also capable of a more frenetic – although still disciplined – groove, as on the energetic track Hostile (you can watch the band perform "Hostile" here). There are a few tracks with vocals that lean more toward a genuine gospel music feeling, but the underlying jazz element is still there. All in all, Gospel Music is a compelling witness to the power of music to express human striving for something beyond human imperfection. 

Ron Carter and Ricky Dillard: Sweet, Sweet Spirit. Clara H. Scott: Open My Eyes (1895); F.M. Bartlett: Everybody Will Be Happy (1921); Francis Jane Crosby: Pass Me Not (1868); W.R. Stevens: Farther Along (1927); Traditional: Just a Closer Walk with Thee; Charles Austin Miles; In the Garden (1912); Cleavant Derricks: Just a Litte Talk with Jesus (1937); Will I. Thompson: Softly and Tenderly (1880); Robert S. Arnold: No Tears in Heaven (1935); Doris Akers: Sweet, Sweet Spirit (1962) [all songs arranged by Ronald L. Carter, Sr., and Ricky Dillard]. Motown Gospel/Capitol/Blue Note 603488384759

 

Ron Carter (b. 1937) is a legend in the world of jazz. Perhaps best known for being the anchor of the legendary Miles Davis Quintet (Miles Davis, trumpet; Wayne Shorter, tenor saxophone; Herbie Hancock, piano; Ron Carter, double bass; Tony Wiiliams, drums), he has appeared on more than 2,200(!) recordings throughout his career – jazz, folk, rock, R&B, hip-hop, big band, soundtracks, crooners, poets – and is still actively touring today with his Foursight jazz quartet at the age of 88. Ricky Dillard (b. 1965) is an American gospel songwriter, singer, and choir director. The album is intended as a tribute to Ron Carter’s mother, the late Mrs. Willie O. Carter. Her favorite hymns were often sung in the Carter household, and late in her life, when she was in an assisted living facility, Ron recorded arrangements of ten of her favorite hymns he had made for his upright bass so that she could enjoy them during her final days. To give those beloved hymns a new dimension and share them with a wider audience, Carter turned to Dillard; together, the pair crafted arrangements combining the voices of the choir with Carter’s bass lines. The end result is highly energetic praise music sung with sincerity and devotion. You can see a video of Carter, Dillard, and choir performing the hymn Pass Me Not (by following this link). If you’ve never encountered gospel music before, you’re in for quite a treat. My only quibble about this release is the way the liner notes are printed – teeny-tiny font, low-contrast, virtually unreadable. Other than that, Sweet, Sweet Spirit is sweet indeed.

Brahms: Symphony No. 4 (SACD review)

Also, MacMillan: Larghetto for Orchestra. Manfred Honeck, Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. Reference Recordings FR-744SACD.

By Karl W. Nehring and Bill Heck

The album according to Karl:

This will be a review of this new release from two perspectives. My good friend and colleague Bill Heck and I were excited to see this new recording of the Brahms Fourth, a work we both hold in high regard, by the esteemed Pittsburgh Symphony under Manfred Honeck on Reference Recordings, a label we also hold in high regard. After a brief telephone conversation about the recording based on our first quick listens (mine only in my car), we decided that we would speak no more of it to each other and instead write independent reviews that we would not reveal to each other until they were posted. So here we go…

This recording made two immediate impressions on me. I loved its energy and drive, but I thought it sounded different from any other version with which I was familiar. My mental image of this work is of a sound that is led by the strings, especially the violins; however, on this version, the winds and brass seemed to carry pretty much equal weight. My immediate impression was that Honeck was fussing with things, perhaps trying to make his version stand out from the rest of the pack by bringing background parts to the forefront. However, my first impressions were admittedly based on listening in the car, and then my mono Bluetooth speaker (circumstances kept me away at first from my big system but I really wanted to hear the performance so I started listening right away on whatever gear was close at hand). On my car system, though, I was able to do a quick comparison to the Carlos Kleiber/Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra version, and from that DG recording I heard much more of the string-driven sound I had remembered.

When I finally got the chance to listen to the CD layer of the Honeck disc on my home system, I found myself becoming conflicted about just what to think, at least in terms of its sound quality. On the one hand, the sound is dynamic, rich, and full. On the other hand, the stereo imaging is a bit strange, a curious blend of a distant, reverberant hall sound (this is a live recording taken from concert performances) combined with what seems to be spotlighting of different sections of the orchestra, resulting in a sound something like a combination of the Telarc and London Phase 4 approaches. The liner notes from Soundmirror (the engineering firm Reference Recordings employs in Pittsburgh) offer a hint as to what might be going on: “While an important goal is to truthfully represent the acoustical event in the hall, another is to capture the composer's intention reflected in the score and its realization by the performer. To achieve these goals, extensive collaboration and communication between the artists and the recording team are of utmost importance. Based on our long experience of recording the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in Heinz Hall, we chose five omnidirectional DPA 4006 microphones as our main microphones as our main  microphone array. Supplementing those with ‘spot mics’ to clarify the detail of the orchestration, we worked towards realizing the above goals. Extensive listening sessions with Maestro Honeck and orchestra musicians were crucial in refining the final balance.”

I must say, though, that the more I listened to this recording, the less I fussed over nuances of the stereo imaging, and the more I enjoyed the performance, which I found compelling, and yes, the sound, which as I indicated above, is dynamic, rich, and full. Still, although I enjoyed the dynamism of the performance, I found myself wondering how it would compare to some other versions I had on hand, so I spent a good amount of time listening to several other recordings for the sake of comparing both sound and performance. I will now offer some capsule commentaries on those before concluding with my final thoughts on this new Reference Recordings release.

Carlos Kleiber, Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. Deutsche Grammophon D 103114 (1981). This has long been a favorite version of many classical music lovers (crazily enough, while combing through boxes of CDs this past spring, I discovered that I had somehow acquired three copies of it). Kleiber’s version favors the strings, which have a rich, luxuriant sound. The engineering is not bad, but is nothing special. There is some sense of depth, but not to the extent of the other recordings. Overall, Kleiber brings some excitement and energy to the score, but at least to these ears, his recording no longer leads the field.

Leopold Stokowski, New Philharmonia Orchestra. RCA Victor Gold Seal 09026-62606-2 (1974). First, a quick caveat. The disc I auditioned is CD1 of a 2-CD set that also includes an excellent version of the Mahler Symphony No. 2. It purports to be digitally remastered to be optimized for Dolby Surround, although compatible for stereo. I’m not sure whether some of the sonic anomalies I noticed might be attributable to that remix. Those anomalies include some edginess to the treble and a tendency for the sound of the strings to bunch toward the middle of the image. The bass is not as full as would be ideal, but overall, the sound quality is not bad; it is just not as good as it seems it should have been, and I can’t help but wonder what a good remastering for stereo might sound like. That said, this is a dynamite performance, lively, colorful, and energetic. The ending of the first movement is rousing, the third movement has a marvelous transparency, and the finale builds to a passionate climax.

Fritz Reiner, The Royal Philharmonic. Chesky CD6 (1962). This performance was originally released on a Reader’s Digest LP in the 1960s, then later by RCA in several LP incarnations (I once owned and loved their Quintessence LP version back in my vinyl days)., In 1987, Chesky Records  released both LP and CD remasterings; sadly, though, they are now out of print (Bill and I auditioned a library copy). However, JJP reviewed an HDTT remastering of this recording, you can read that review here. Both the sound and the performance are top-drawer, Although the sound is not quite as dynamic or full-range as the Reference Recordings disc, the imaging and overall balance are more natural. Reiner, like Stokowski, takes things at a lively clip, and the end result is quite exhilarating.

John Axelrod, Orchestra Sinfonica di Milano Giuseppe Verdi. Telarc TEL-34658-02 9 (2013). Who? Conducting whom? On Telarc? John Axelrod (b. 1966) is an American conductor who recorded a unique cycle of Brahms symphonies for in Italy for Telarc. The cycle comprised two 2-CD sets, each CD featuring a Brahms symphony recorded live in concert plus several Lieder by Clara Schumann featuring a soprano accompanied by Axelrod on piano. In general, Axelrod’s interpretation of Symphony No. 4 is more lyrical and less driven than those above, with more of a flowing, relaxed, singing quality. The sonics were a bit strange, however. Although the tonal balance was just fine, rich and full, the sound strings emanated from the middle of the stage and the rest of the orchestra often seemed to come from the left or right. I’m just not sure what the engineers were thinking on this one. It’s far from unlistenable, just a bit quirky sounding, with a smooth performance of the Brahms and an interesting, engagingly entertaining coupling.

Charles Mackerras, Scottish Chamber Orchestra. Telarc CD-80450 (1997). Partially to clear my ears of the big, brash sounds of the above recordings, and partially just to gain another perspective on the music itself, I decided to pull out the venerable chamber orchestra recording led by the esteemed Sir Charles Mackerras. This is a Telarc recording that sounds like a Telarc recording (unlike the Axelrod), with excellent imaging. Although the smaller forces result in an overall sound that lacks weight in comparison to the larger orchestras, they play with energy and drive. The sound of the horns stands out, giving off a more blatty than burnished sound; it made me smile, although I suppose others might react differently. And oh, that second movement… My goodness, Mackerras really nails it!

If the Stokowski were engineered a bit better (a little less brightness, a better stereo mix), it would be my first choice, and it is coupled with some truly outstanding Mahler. The Reiner is also terrific, and sounds amazingly good, but is hard to come by. The Kleiber has a more mainstream kind of sound, and the recording is not bad, just not in the same class as Honeck, Reiner, or Mackerras. Still, it is a safe choice, especially for those coming to the symphony for the first time. The Mackerras is a wonderful performance and recording, but (a) is a chamber orchestra performance that offers an interesting perspective but might prove unsatisfying to those looking for a “big” sound and (b) is part of a boxed set of the complete symphonies that is sadly out of print although not as hard to find as the Reiner. But for those who love the work and perhaps own several recordings of the Brahms symphonies, the Mackerras set on Telarc would be well worth seeking out. For those looking for a more lyrical take on Brahms, Axelrod is an interesting alternative, although the availability of his recordings is a bit dodgy. For those interested in such things, I have included a comparative table of movement timings for these recordings below.

	Honeck	Kleiber	Stokowski	Reiner	Axelrod	Mackerras
I	12:38	12:45	10:48	11:11	13:16	12:02
II	11:06	11:19	11:54	12:40	12:33	10:38
III	5:54	6:04	6:00	6:28	6:26	6:05
IV	9:26	9:12	8:56	9:44	10:05	10:06

Although my focus has been on the Brahms, this release also includes the Larghetto for Orchestra by the Scottish composer James MacMillan (b. 1959). At just under 15 minutes, it is an arrangement of a composition that the composer explains was originally a choral piece, “imbued with the singing quality of the original piece, but is also shaped by its sad and lamenting character.” It is somber in mood, quite a contrast to the rousing finale of the Brahms. Pleasant enough to listen to, but to be honest, I’m not quite sure why it was included on this release. No harm, no foul….

Okay, then, back to the Brahms, the primary focus of this review. Having considered several alternative recordings, where does this Honeck version fit in? What kind of recommendation does it earn? The short answers are: near the top; and yes, it is recommended. The long answers are a bit more complicated, so allow me to offer a bit more explanation. The Honeck is a powerful performance that really brings the score to life, and the engineering, although a mite puzzling, as described above, is still very impressive and certainly revealing of the score. As I listened to this recording, I found myself getting more and more excited about the Brahms Fourth. What a rousing symphony! The way it was conducted, performed, and recorded made me feel as though I was hearing it in a way I had never heard it before, the aural equivalent of wearing X-ray specs. However, I never could quite shake the feeling that this was not quite the way it was really supposed to sound. The brass and woodwinds really were not meant to have quite that much prominence. I would also point out the liner notes, in which Maestro Honeck goes into a great amount of detail about the work and his approach to conducting it. In the end, then, I would recommend this recording as one that a person who likes the Brahms Fourth really ought to hear, but I would not recommend it as the first recording for someone just discovering classical music.

KWN

The album according to Bill:

I must admit that it has been difficult to figure out what to say about this recording. I’ve seen a lot of buzz about it; even though I’ve avoided reading other reviews before writing mine, the headlines have been obvious. Indeed, there is much to love: the interpretation is better than solid; the liner notes written by Maestro Honeck are insightful, an education unto themselves; the playing is exemplary; and Reference Recordings is a label that has produced scores of excellent recordings. And yet, and yet….

Honeck’s notes refer to his desire to bring out the inner details, details which often are difficult to hear. He’s certainly right about the potential difficulty, and it is a tough balancing act to play this work in a way that allows the listener, without benefit of a score, to hear everything that’s going on without losing the thread of the work as a whole. But to make a long story somewhat shorter, and to severely strain a metaphor, I fear that this recording goes too far in the direction of pulling out the individual threads and loses wholeness of the cloth.

This issue – and it may be idiosyncratic – is most noticeable in the first movement. It's one thing to bring out the inner voices of, say, the woodwinds or the lower strings. It's another when the violins sink into inaudibility, which happens around the 6-minute mark. (There are multiple measures of rests in there; I’m referring to the parts in which the violins are indeed playing.) Another instance is around the 7-minute mark: yes, the string parts are marked pp, but the horns and brass also are pp and the latter simply dominate. Again, as we approach the final sustained notes at the end of the movement, the brasses are prominent enough to mask the upper strings almost completely.

In a similar vein, the low end where the double basses reside is a little too “audiophile.” Some so-called audiophile recordings display what seems like an elevated low end, the better to show off the bass capabilities of the audiophile’s system; think humungous bass drums on a few Telarc discs. (Of course, the more enthusiastic audiophiles rarely admit that maybe there can be too much of a good thing.) To my ears, some of the notes in the lower registers of the double basses bloom out too forcefully, exhibiting what sounds remarkably like a resonance at certain frequencies, something that I've never heard in a concert hall and do not hear in other recordings of this work. Not only does all this make the basses sound just too up-front, but they also feel detached from the rest of the orchestra.

More generally, there are times when the parts don't seem to quite coalesce. The brass, the strings, the woodwinds: all well-defined and yet somehow they all seem to be in separate places, not quite blending into one orchestra. Are those woodwinds and brasses staying back where they belong, or are they occasionally sneaking up to the front of the stage, the better to be heard? Of course, that’s an exaggeration to convey the impression, but you get the idea.

Should we attribute these issues to the conducting and playing or instead to the recording? Frankly, I can’t tell, although surely the latter is not helping matters.

Having taken on the role of skunk at the picnic (we’ll leave still more graphic images for another time), I’ll turn to more positive thoughts. And as I’ve been writing about sound, I’ll start with the positives there. The overall sound in the usual hi-fi terms is exemplary: smooth highs, the lows anything but missing, wonderful detail.

Moving on to other positives, the interpretation sounds well thought out and the results are mostly both lovely and powerful. The first movement truly is well-played, managing to sound fresh without crossing over to completely uncharted territory. Sometimes efforts to illuminate well-known works with fresh insights end up sounding just wacky; not so here. The little details that Honeck describes are within the mainstream of interpretation, but still add up to a version offering new perspectives.

Honeck’s notes speak of the vocal nature of the second movement, and that seems absolutely correct. Oh, I could quibble about the opening four measures featuring the horns, which to me seem a bit brusque. But that is one of the very few missteps that I noticed, and things improve quickly, with the orchestra truly singing. To take just one small example, the “exchanges” between the instrumental groups around 4:30 and onward are particularly well executed, allowing the music to flow so smoothly. Yet once in a while, the sonic issues that I worried about pop up again, mostly in more benign form, but present nonetheless. Just how did those woodwinds get into the front row – I thought they were behind the strings? And about those basses….

Speaking of the second movement, revisiting the Szell / Cleveland recording, preferably the sonically improved remastering from 2018, provides an interesting contrast. Not that it’s “better” than the Honeck / Pittsburgh one, but it is heartrendingly wistful, another take on some wonderful music.

The third movement takes off quickly and dramatically, but with never a hint of strain: it truly is rousing, by turns joyful, determined, and yes, even humorous. The occasional clouds of a minor key never really disturb the bright day filled with vitality. Interestingly, the sound that I found problematic earlier serves the music better here: the thrumming drums a little over four minutes in are particularly effective and don’t seem at all out of place.

In the fourth movement, the variations that make up the movement are particularly well-defined: again, the sound that seemed problematic earlier may help to clarify what’s going on – although, still, in a few spots, I felt that lack of coherence mentioned earlier. At any rate, the playing certainly is beyond reproach. For example, there is some particularly lovely flute and woodwind work starting around the four-minute mark, and the horns that follow immediately after do a very nice job indeed; these are just a few instances in which the technical ability of the Pittsburgh forces is fully on display. Moreover, there’s no shortage of drama, with sudden outbursts and huge dynamic contrasts. The quick tempi may bother some: for me, the movement seems on the border of sounding rushed, while some might find that it crosses that border. Still, Honeck is hardly off the beaten path in this regard: although he takes a brisk 9:34 for the entire movement; the widely acclaimed Kleiber / Vienna version beats that at 9:14. (However, I should note that Kleiber starts off at what seems a slightly slower pace, making up the time as things move along; subjectively, this seems not quite so brisk as the version under review.) In contrast, Klemperer takes a full minute more at 10:24, while my beloved Szell is even more leisurely at 10:34. The faster versions convey more straight-ahead drama; the slower ones perhaps deliver a more Hitchcockian sense of slowly approaching fate or disaster, even spookiness. If you haven’t heard both approaches, you should.

So where does all this leave us? The recording has grown on me since my first hearing: as I mentioned earlier, there is much to like. But for myself, I fear that the concerns about the sound and balances are deal breakers for a long-lasting relationship.

BH

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

Two Contemporary Choral Recordings (CD reviews)

Works by Pärt, Vasks, MacMillan, and Runestad

By Karl W. Nehring

Presented for your musical enjoyment are two recent releases of choral music, the first comprising works by three composers whose names should be familiar to most music lovers, the second by a composer whose name is less likely to be known. The first features music traditionally religious in nature, while the second is more literary in orientation but not exclusively secular. Indeed, both releases are quite capable of lifting listeners’ spirits. To look at them both together is to see a kind of quick candid snapshot of current approaches to contemporary choral composition, performance, and engineering.

Stabat: Includes works by Arvo Pärt, (Da Pacem, Domine; The Woman with the Alabaster Box; Magnificat; Nunc Dimittis; Stabat Mater); Peteris Vasks (Plainscapes); James MacMillan (Miserere). Graham Ross, Choir of Clare College, Cambridge; The Dmitri Ensemble. Harmonia Mundi HMM 905323.

Estonian composer Arvo Pärt, (b. 1935) is the featured composer on Stabat, which includes five of his compositions. By now, most classical music lovers should be familiar with his music, as his compositions have been recorded by myriad performers on a variety of labels. For those of us of a certain age, though, Pärt, was a newcomer who suddenly appeared on the scene with music unlike anything we had ever heard before. I can still vividly recall the first time I heard his music. While I was in graduate school, I had a weekend job as a security guard for Liebert Corporation, a manufacturer of computer support equipment that at that time basked in having recently been named one of the “100 Best Companies to Work for in America.” One of my late-night duties was to drive from my post at the main plant to check on their training center, which was a couple of miles or so away. On one of those late nights as I got into my car I found that the classical FM radio station was playing something completely engrossing, music such as I had never experienced before. I was spellbound! I sat and listened to the end of the piece, eager to find out what this music could possibly be. It turned out to be the landmark ECM release Tabula Rasa, featuring the music of Arvo Pärt as played by the then-young violinist Gidon Kremer and of all pianists, the jazz icon Keith Jarrett (who, sadly enough, has suffered a couple of strokes over the past couple of years and is  no longer able to play the piano). Since then, I have been an avid Pärt fan (as well as a fan of Kremer and Jarrett) and have auditioned and owned many of his numerous compositions over the past several decades.

All of the Pärt, compositions in this collection have been recorded before, typically several times, but that does not diminish the quality or appeal of the performances on this CD by the Choir of Clare College, Cambridge. As a bonus, the inclusion of striking compositions of a similar musical and emotional appeal by the Latvian composer Peteris Vasks (b. 1946) and the Scottish composer James MacMillan (b. 1959) makes for a coherent, vibrant, and entertaining program.

The program kicks off with two Pärt compositions for choir alone. Da pacem, Domine was commissioned by the Catalonian conductor Jordi Savall (whose recent set of Beethoven Symphonies Nos. 1-5 figures prominently in my “get those reviews finished, darn it!” pile). Pärt started writing it two days after the Madrid bombings in March 2004, and it has been performed commemoratively in Spain every year since. The stirring chords playing off against each other are like tolling bells, moving and memorable. The next piece, The Woman with the Alabaster Box, features more of a traditional choir sonority, rich in reverberation as captured by the engineers. Pärt has an admirable ability to employ stillness as an expressive tool  The soft descent into silence at the end of the piece is a marvel to behold.

Plainscapes by Vasks augments the sound of the choir with expressive support from violin and cello. The opening finds the choir joined by a high note from the violin, the violin then sliding into a haunting, almost spooky sound. At times, the two string instruments take the lead, spinning searching sounds that the choir supports and sustains with soft, tender accompaniment. There are no words, as the choir does not sing a text but rather employs vocalise throughout. Even without any sort of liturgical text, the net effect is nonetheless reverential.

Following the Vasks are two more pieces by Pärt, the choir once again singing a cappella. His setting of the Magnificat features rich harmonies weaving between male and female voices to create a reverential atmosphere capable of providing consolation and hope in these turbulent times for believers and nonbelievers alike. Oh, the healing power of great music! Nunc dimittis starts softly and slowly. As it proceeds, however, it builds in volume and intensity.

MacMillan’s Miserere seems to have a sound especially adapted to the acoustics and resonances of its physical setting. Simple vocal lines flow over each other, but are woven together in a more complex constitution than in the previous pieces in this program. The overall sound is larger, more complex—it is easy to imagine this as a work for orchestra. The ending is especially noteworthy for the way it winds down so skillfully and effectively.

The program closes with this recording’s longest (27:27) and most complex composition, Part's setting of the Stabat Mater. It opens with the strings alone, the choir not joining in for more than two minutes. And so the composition moves along, choir and chamber orchestra weaving in and out, intermingled with that silence so appropriate for his musical setting of a text that depicts the grief of Mary at Calvary.

All in all, this fine Harmonia Mundi CD, although with music rooted firmly in Christian liturgy, possesses musical and sonic excellence that can surely be appreciated by even the most secular of music lovers. Even if you already own recordings of some or even all of the Part compositions featured in this collection, the inclusion of the Vasks and MacMillan pieces, both of which are truly impressive, makes this release well worth seeking out. The engineering is excellent and the liner notes are useful. A first-class release in all respects.

Jake Runestad: Sing, Wearing the Sky. Includes The Secret of the Sea; Alleluia; Let My Love Be Heard; Sing, Wearing the Sky; Live the Questions; We Can Mend the Sky; Fear Not, Dear Friend; Proud Music of the Storm; I Will Lift Mine Eyes; Ner Ner. Joel Risema, Kantorei. Naxos 8.559892.

The Secret of the Sea is the opening selection of this collection of choral music by Jake Runestad (b. 1986), a young American composer who was born in Illinois and now resides in Minnesota. It is an ambitious work that incorporates texts from Whitman, Longfellow, Doolittle, and Uvavnuk. It is hard to listen to the opening measures without thinking of Vaughan Williams’s Symphony No. 1 (A Sea Symphony), not because Runestad is imitating RVW, but because the lyrics by Whitman and the exuberance of the music are similar in both pieces. The musical mood shifts as Runestad moves from text to text, but is always engaging and colorful, with the sound of the choir being accompanied by strings, percussion, and piano. The text for the next selection is much simpler, consisting entirely of one word, the tile of the piece, Alleluia. The performance by the unaccompanied singers is bursting with energy, culminating in a big finish. Also sung a cappella is the third selection on the program, Let My Love Be Heard, which the liner notes point out “became a powerful expression of collective grief and solidarity following terrorist attacks in Paris and Beirut.” The choir director at Cal State Long Beach led a performance of the work as part of a memorial to a student of the college who had been killed in the Paris attacks, a performance that was posted online and has become music sung to provide solace and comfort for subsequent tragedies. It is a tender piece in which Runestad has framed the poem “A Prayer” by Alfred Noyes in rich harmonies that truly do provide balm for the soul.

The mood shifts once again for the title number, Sing, Wearing the Sky, with lyrics by Lalla, a 14th-century Sufi poet/mystic from India. From the cover art on the CD I had a kind of metaphorical, abstract preconception of what the title meant, but then I encountered the lines, “My teacher told me, live in the soul. When that was so, I began to go naked, and dance. Dance, Lalla, with nothing on but air. Sing, Lalla, wearing the sky.” That put a different spin on things… As the piece proceeds, a violin adds a distinctly Indian vibe to the sonority, with a mezzo-soprano voice telling the story accompanied by the choir as well as the violin, piano, and percussion. The net effect is dramatic, the listener really feeling the spirit of the dance. The next selection, Live the Questions, offers life advice of a different sort, with lyrics taken from a letter that Rilke wrote to a young cadet in the Austrian army who had sought Rilke’s advice on some life decisions he was facing. The musical setting has turned to the more serious side once again, with some tender harmonies culminating in a memorable final chord.

The next cut, We Can Mend the Sky, starts with a bang as drums accompany the chorus. As the lyrics (written by a 14-year-old Somali girl in response to violent riots she had witnessed in her homeland) unfold, a solo soprano sings the story with the choir accompanying her. There are some dramatic moments, but the earnest repetition  of the line, “if we come together, we can mend the sky” seems to be a bit over the top, a few too many overly earnest repetitions, at least for my taste. I hope I am not being too cynical (hey, 2020 has been a hard year for us all). In any event, the next selection, Fear Not, Dear Friend, from a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson, features rich harmonies that underscore the imploring loving tenderness of Stevenson’s touching words of support. The ending repeats the opening line, effectively bringing about a feeling of emotional resolution. The next selection, Proud Music of the Storm,  with lyrics by Walt Whitman, also seems to a kind of repetition, the overall sound and sense echoing the CD’s opening cut, The Secret of the Sea, the opening section of which also featured lyrics by that exuberant American poet. The opening notes are from the piano, and as the chorus joins in, there are shifting moods, breathing sounds, and the unfolding of the vison of an unfettered mind. The overall effect is grandiose, yet on a personal scale.

The penultimate composition, I Will Lift Mine Eyes, is Runestad’s setting of Psalm 121. Runestad explains that “I came across Psalm 121 from the Bible and found great beauty in the admiration for natural creation linked with a promise of guidance and support from a higher power. I find such peace in the splendor of the natural world and I wanted to capture that serenity with this work.” As you might expect, the music is reverential and stately, sung with depth and conviction by Kantorei. That serious mood disappears as the final selection begins, Ner Ner being a highly energetic and rhythmically resplendent rendition of nonsense syllables. A strange way to end the album, perhaps, but certainly a fun way.

Overall, Sing, Wearing the Sky is entertaining and enjoyable. The recording quality is certainly good, maybe not audiophile quality but never off-putting. There are times when I found myself wishing for less reverberation, but on the other hand, it does add to the sense of hearing singers in a public space rather than a studio setting. The liner notes are useful, with lyrics included,  This Naxos release is well worth an audition by fans of choral music.

Bonus Recommendation: Bruckner: Mass No. 3 in F minor. Margaret Price, soprano; Doris Soffel, alto; Peter Straka, tenor; Matthias Holle, bass; Philharmonischer Chor Munchen; Sergiu Celibidache, Munchner Philharmoniker (EMI 7243 5 56702 2 9)  In the category of choral music, here is something special. Music lovers whose familiarity with the music of Anton Bruckner is based solely upon hearing his symphonies may already have sensed a spirit of religiosity in his music. His symphonies have been described as “cathedrals in sound,” and movements such as the Adagio from his Symphony No. 8 are certainly capable of stimulating transcendent thoughts and feelings in listeners’ minds and hearts. But Bruckner was not just a symphonist, he also wrote music in other genres, including three Masses, of which this is the third. Conductor Sergiu Celibidache did not believe music should be recorded, so he did not leave a recorded legacy like so many other conductors. This EMI release is of a live concert, part of a series of live recordings that have been given special care to make his music more available to the public. It is music of great depth and beauty; oi deed, the structure of the Mass and its text meant that Bruckner did not write the repetitious melodies with the abrupt endings he employed in his symphonies. It is as if the very limitations  involved in setting the text to music are what freed him to compose some of his most beautiful music. This is an utterly wondrous release, well worth seeking out.

KWN

More New Releases (CD/SACD Mini-reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

Alas, my favorite public library has been forced to close its doors again because of the coronavirus pandemic. Sadly, it was only open for a couple more days after I had finally been able to enter it at last and check out the new music releases that I commented on previously for Classical Candor. (https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2020/11/some-new-releases-cd-mini-reviews.html) Not to worry, though, because although its doors have been closed to the public except for that one brief interlude (or was that whole episode merely a dream?), the library has been functioning quite efficiently on a drive-through basis. Buoyed by my experience with discovering new releases on that one brief but magical venture through the library door, I decided to do some searching on their website to see what other new classical releases they might have obtained recently. I there found some interesting items, some of which I am still in the process of auditioning and digesting, others for which I am pleased to offer some brief but, let’s hope, helpful commentary on below. Enjoy and stay safe, my friends...

Johann Johannsson and Yair Elasar Glotman: Last and First Men. (Deutsche Grammophon 4837410)
The late Johann Johannsson composed some truly remarkable music during his relatively brief career. Among his notable achievements were several movie soundtracks that are enjoyable to hear even divorced from their films (e.g., his soundtrack to the film Arrival, a stimulating sci-fi film based on an ingenious short story by author Ted Chiang titled “The Story of Your Life”). The copy I obtained from the library includes both the CD of the soundtrack and a Blu-ray disc of the movie, which I have not yet watched but plan to presently. The music is haunting, moody, sometimes spooky, with acoustic instruments, voices, and synthesized sounds blended together to great effect. If you are already a fan of Johannsson, you’ll want to give this new release a listen. 

MacMillan: Symphony No. 5 “Le grand Inconnu”; The Sun Danced. Mary Bevan, soprano; Harry Christophers, The Sixteen and the Genesis Sixteen, Britten Sinfonia. (CORO COR16179)
Sir James MacMillan (b. 1959) has given us here two large-scale works for chorus and orchestra that are based on religious themes. The Sun Danced (2016) was commissioned by the Shrine of Fatima in Portugal to mark the centennial of a religious miracle, while his Symphony No. 5, le grand Inconnu” (2019) is said by the composer to evoke the mystery of the Holy Spirit. MacMillan explains in the liner notes that the French phrase “Le grand Inconnu” refers to the mystery of the Holy Spirit in a way he cannot find in the English spiritual tradition. Musically, both pieces are expressive and colorful, showing the composer’s skill and imagination in powerful measure. A particularly gripping effect is the quiet breathing of the choir that opens the Symphony, a musical effect that brings to mind the idea of “the whisperings of the Spirit.” The soprano Mary Bevan really shines in The Sun Danced, with orchestra and chorus providing many moments of power and light. Both pieces have an exuberance that sweeps the listener away; indeed, one need not be religious to appreciate the power of MacMillan’s musical vision and the glory of the musicians who bring that vision gloriously to life.  

Mahler: Symphony No. 7. Osmo Vänskä, Minnesota Orchestra. (BIS 2386)
One of the highlights of my musical life was attending a concert performance of the Mahler Symphony No. 7 by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Claudio Abbado. Given that JJP has already posted a fine in-depth review of this BIS release (https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2020/08/mahler-symphony-no-7-sacd-review.html), I will simply second his opinion that this is a very fine recording indeed. It is an excellent performance featuring an especially adept interpretation of the final movement. In addition, the sound of the orchestra has been captured with superb engineering, making this release worthy of an enthusiastic recommendation to all Mahler fans.    

Prokofiev: Suites from The Gambler and The Tale of the Stone Flower. Dima Slobodeniouk, Lahti Symphony Orchestra. (BIS 2301)
This SACD of orchestral music by Prokofiev contains just what you would expect from orchestral suites by the Russian master: music that is colorful, expressive, energetic, and entertaining. Many music lovers are no doubt familiar with the colorful orchestral suites from his ballet, Romeo and Juliet. The first suite on this disc, Four Portraits and Denouement from “The Gambler” is derived from an opera rather than a ballet, but the other suite is based upon his ballet The Tale of the Stone Flower. Interestingly enough, I noted in my listening sessions that there was some music that seemed quite parallel to some music from Prokofiev’s ballet score for the star-crossed lovers, but it is certainly no scandal to hear a great composer stealing from his or her own catalog, especially when the end product is so rewardingly entertaining, as it is here. Sandwiched between these two suites is an earlier composition by Prokofiev, his brief but soberly expressive Autumnal Sketch. The engineering is first-rate, which is what we have come to expect from BIS, one of the few labels that still lists the equipment used in the production, a fun touch that brings to mind those heady audiophile days of the 70s and 80s.

Shostakovich: Symphonies Nos. 5 & 1. Gianandrea Noseda, London Symphony Orchestra (LSO Live LSO0802)
I thought it seemed a bit surprising to see the reverse numerical order of the symphonies in the title of this release. Perhaps the producers figured that the 5th is the more popular Shostakovich symphony of the two so they needed to list it first? Not a big deal, just a bit odd, so perhaps that was the point: christen it a bit oddly to draw some extra attention in a crowded marketplace. Whatever. A bigger surprise awaited me when I got home, opened the cover, and realized that there were two shiny toruses in the package, one for Symphony No. 5, the other for -- you guessed it -- Symphony No. 1. I had assumed both works would have fit on one SACD, but that might have been stretching it. There are no fillers included on either disc, but given that the package sells for a relatively modest price, value is not really an issue. Both symphonies are well done, recorded in live performance but engineered superbly. Symphony No. 1 is played with just a bit less playfulness than I would like to hear, but is still a delight. Similarly delightful is Noseda’s version of No. 5, an interpretation that seems to strike a balance between hope and despair. For the price, this 2-SACD set would be a great way for someone new to Shostakovich to be introduced to his symphonies.

Voice of Hope: Camille Thomas, cello; Stephane Deneve (tracks 4-6), Mathieu Herzog (tracks 1-3, 7-13). Brussels Philharmonic. (Deutsche Grammophon 4838564)
What looks to be at first glance just another collection of arrangements for cello of some traditional favorites turns out to be something more complex, more focused, and more satisfying than that. The centerpiece of this collection is not a traditional favorite; rather, it is a new composition  by Turkish composer Fazil Say (b. 1970) titled Concerto for Cello and Orchestra “Never Give Up,” a quite listenable and rewarding piece of contemporary music that fits right in with the other selections in this release, which include impassioned performances of notable compositions such as Ravel’s Kaddish (if you ever get the opportunity, check out the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra’s “Tree of Life: A Concert for Peace and Unity,” a moving memorial concert for the victims of the tragic 2918 Pittsburgh synagogue shooting, which among other heartfelt performances included a version of Kaddish with a clarinet taking the lead), Bruch’s Kol Nidrei, and John Williams’s Theme from Schindler’s List. Voice of Hope is a truly remarkable release, much more than a random collection of arrangements for cello. Brava, Ms. Thomas!

Vasks: Viola Concerto; String Symphony “Voices.” Maxim Rysanov, viola and conductor, Sinfonietta Riga. (BIS 2443)
Music lovers who have not yet discovered the entrancing music of Latvian composer Peteris Vasks (b. 1946) will find this new BIS release an excellent gateway into his musical universe. The CD opens with the more recent of the two works on the program, his Concerto for Viola and String Orchestra (2014-2015). Those fearful of contemporary music need not be afraid, this is music to delight rather than assault the ear. The opening movement in particular is breathtakingly beautiful, so listeners are likely to be hooked from the outset (shades of the old strategy of starting off a rock or pop album with a hit song sure to draw listeners in). Rest assured, though, the rest of the music on the disc is up to the same high standard of quality. The second composition is one of the first pieces by Vasks that got me interested in his music back in the early 1990s. His Symphony for Strings, “Voices” (1991) is more inward-focused than the Concerto, more allusive than effusive. Again, it is a good place to start with the music of Vasks, as it employs many of the musical devices that he will use in subsequent works. It truly draws the listener in, giving the mind something to turn over while enjoying the compelling sonorities. It is one of those pieces that upon hearing, you will immediately want to hear again. All in all, this is an excellent release, highly recommended.

Avishai Cohen: Big Vicious. Avishai Cohen, trumpet/effects/synthesizer; Uri Ramirez, guitar; Yonatan Albalak, guitar/bass; Aviv Cohen, drums; Ziv Ravitz, drums/live sampling. (ECM 2680)
It is certainly not an original thought to say that jazz is America’s classical music, but I’ll throw it out there quickly along with another thought that certainly did not originate with me, that jazz musicians in general tend to have a deeper understanding of and ability to implement music theory than do classical musicians. And if you read biographies of and interviews with prominent jazz musicians, you might well be surprised to find out how many are fans of classical music. In any event, Big Vicious is a delight: tuneful, imaginative, and bold in both conception and execution. “Big Vicious” is the name of both Cohen’s band and the album, which contains 11 compositions: nine originals credited to Cohen or the band plus two covers, one an arrangement of the song “Teardrop” by Massive Attack, the other an arrangement of a movement of Beethoven’s “Moonlight” Sonata. (“Hey hey, my my, clas-sic-al will never die...”)

Bonus Recommendation: Self-Portrait with Russian Piano. Wolf Wondratscheck, author; Marshall Yarbrough, translator. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, First American Edition, 2020. ISBN 978-0-374-28049-1. It turns out that the library not only carries CDs, but they also carry books that they are more than happy to have their patrons check out to read. How cool is that?! Music lovers with a literary bent might enjoy this somewhat dreamlike novel by the German author, Wolf Wondratscheck. It tells the tale of a writer who encounters an aging Russian pianist, Suvorin, although as the novel moves along, it can become hard to separate the fictional author from the fictional pianist as their stories intertwine. Along the way, we are regaled with anecdotes and observations about actual musicians such as Clara Haskil (“Did she speak Russian? Did she speak at all?  Did her hands get cold before every appearance, too cold for Mozart, who would then warm them for her?”), Sviatislov Richter (“Any interest in success, in seeking admiration for his capabilities as a pianist, was completely alien to Richter. Success was fining the trail of a discovery, the hope of finding it. Richter would probably most preferred it if his name didn’t appear next to the composer’s on the playbill at all.”). Glenn Gould (“Gould was right to quit early. The guy was just thirty-two! But he had had enough and he threw in the towel. Good kid, and he had a sense of humor, too. That he did, you have to hand it to him.”), and Heinrich Schiff (“The worst ones, says Schiff, are the conqueror types, who turn each game into a tournament, each concert into a struggle—the killjoys at the conductor’s stand who wave the queue around like a baton. How little feeling, how little sensitivity they have.”). This novel is not the easiest to read, but it does tend to suck the reader in, weaving quite a psychological spell throughout its relatively brief 204 pages.  

Finally, allow me to be so bold as to recommend another jazz recording, this one also by trumpeter Avishai Cohen. His quintet recording Into the Silence (ECM 2482) is much different in sound and mood from Big Vicious. It is acoustic, moody, Cohen at times muting his trumpet and exploring some deeply introspective spaces both musically and emotionally. It is a simmeringly powerful release that is beautifully recorded and produced.

KWN

Alison Balsom: Seraph (CD review)

Trumpet works by MacMillan, Takemitsu, Arutiunian, and Zimmermann. Alison Balsom, trumpet; Jonathan Morton, Scottish Ensemble; Lawrence Renes, BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. EMI 50999 6 78590 2 3.

I confess I'm not really up on the latest, greatest trumpet players, so this new album from British trumpet soloist Alison Balsom helped bring me up to date on one of the instrument's leading exponents. Ms. Balsom is a multiple award winner with over half a dozen records to her credit, the former principal trumpet of the London Chamber Orchestra, and a Visiting Professor of Trumpet at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. More important, she's a darn fine trumpet player. On the present album, she performs three modern trumpet concertos and several shorter solo pieces. It's an entertaining program, although for me not entirely repeatable.

The program begins with Seraph for trumpet and string orchestra by Scottish composer and conductor James MacMillan (b. 1959), who wrote it in 2010 and dedicated it to Ms. Balsom. She describes the music as both playful and meditative, which is true. If only it had a little more that a listener could hang onto, it might yet catch the public's fancy. As it is, it is quite rhythmic, and Ms. Balsom gets to demonstrate her virtuosity with it. The central Adagio has a mysterious and plaintive quality about it, sounding rather mournful and bluesy at times. The finale appears to be a series of fanfares, intentionally "ungainly" in the composer's words. While filled with several fascinating ideas, it is also a typically contemporary piece of classical music that did not exactly nudge me toward a second listening.

The Trumpet Concerto in A flat by Armenian composer Alexander Arutiunian (b. 1920), written in 1950, is more conventional than the MacMillan work that precedes it and, therefore, is more accessible to people like me. The composer infuses the music with plenty of melody and an abundance of Armenian folk tunes. Ms. Balsom's playing is sweet and sympathetic, encouraging our attention with her warm, vibrant tone. I found the piece a highlight of the set, framed as it is in a Romantic, old-fashioned sort of way.

The program concludes with the single-movement Trumpet Concerto "Nobody Knows de Trouble I See" by German composer Bernd Alois Zimmermann (1918-1970) and premiered in 1955. He wrote it as an underscoring of German racism at the time and as a "plea for brotherly unity." It develops the theme of the old Negro spiritual in variations that continue in assorted imaginative and compelling styles for about a quarter of an hour. Ms. Balsom appears to be as adept a jazz artist as she is an accomplished classical musician, floating effortlessly from one mood to another. It's a fascinating work that might appeal to a wide assortment of tastes.

Between the concertos, Ms. Balsom plays a few solos, equally affecting. The trumpet is not the easiest instrument for people to enjoy, but Ms. Balsom certainly makes a good case in its defense.

EMI afford the music three different venues, although with similar results. They got the MacMillan Seraph from a live recording broadcast by BBC Radio 3 from Wigmore Hall, London, in February, 2011, during the work's première. In it, we find the trumpet fairly close up, yet with good depth to the orchestra and a reasonably natural-sounding acoustic setting. EMI spare us the closing applause. The Arutiumian and Zimmerman concertos they recorded at City Halls, Glasgow, in June of 2011. The sound is slightly warmer and more distant in these pieces than in Seraph, better integrated, with good range, although a bit veiled through the midrange. The trumpet solos, recorded in Potton Hall, Suffolk, in October, 2011, sound the cleanest and most transparent of all, perhaps because the engineers had the least to deal with.

JJP