Mikyung Sung: The Colburn Sessions

by Bill Heck

Bottesini: Tarantella, Capriccio di Bravura, Elegy No. 1 in D Major; Massenet: Meditation from Thaïs; Hindemith: Sonata for Double Bass and Piano; Montag: Sonata in E Minor for Double Bass and Piano; Mendelssohn: Cello Sonata No. 2 in D Major; Rachmaninoff: Sonata in G minor for Cello and Piano, Op. 19 (third movement); Franck: Sonata in A major for Violin and Piano. Jaemin Shin, Mikyung Sung. Modus Vivendi Media MVM2301

When I first happened upon this album, I was dumbfounded. So far as I can tell, it should be physically impossible to play a double bass in the manner that Ms. Sung does. Flying through endless quick series of notes with on the nose intonation along the extended neck with thick strings of this instrument: how in the world does she do that?

But, of course, there is more to this two-CD set than mere technical brilliance, so let’s explore. 

Giovanni Bottesini

The first disc opens with three works by Giovanni Bottesini (1821 – 1899), considered in his time as the “Paganini of the Double Bass”, and who moved from virtuoso command of that instrument to conducting and composing. The first piece, Tarantella, certainly is a showpiece for the double bass, with shifting tempi and virtuoso runs: If you do think of Paganini on the bass instead of the violin, you’ll have the general idea. The next, Capricio di bravura, begins as a soulful singing piece that moves across the entire range of the instrument. It breaks into a lively dance, and back and forth we go, ending it all with a flourish; the overall feel is reminiscent of a dance scene from an opera. Finally, we have the Elegy, several minutes of quite lovely playing. Showpieces all, the music is interesting and enjoyable, and in any case bravura playing is enough to carry the day.

Massenet’s Meditation from Thais is one of those works that you’ve heard somewhere, even if you didn’t know what it was. Originally composed for violin and orchestra, in the wrong hands it can degenerate into a rather saccharine tearjerker, but the transposition of the work to double bass with piano accompaniment gives it a whole new sound, perhaps more straightforward than the original. In any case, Sung’s playing is moving without turning into treacle.

Next up are two more recent works also originally composed for the double bass, namely Paul Hindemith’s Sonata for Double Bass and Piano, followed by Vilmas Montag’s work of the same name.

The Hindemith Sonata is in much the same vein as some of his better know and more popular works, such as the Mathis der Maler or the Metamorphosis (on Themes by Weber). Although there are moments of dissonance, the composition still is tonal, with a mood best described as mysterious, and developed mostly in minor keys. Personally, I found it quite engaging and I’m glad to have made its acquaintance.

I’m less certain of the Montag composition but can say with confidence that Sung makes the best possible case for it. Her playing, especially in the lower register of the instrument, is lovely and powerful at the same time.

This is a good time to mention that the contributions from pianist Jaemin Shin are beyond mere accompaniment: there’s no doubt that the album is about Sung, but she and Shin are very much partners in music making.

The second disc contains works originally composed for other instruments and redone for the double bass. There are three: Mendelssohn‘s Cello Sonata No. 2, Rachmaninoff’s Sonata in G minor for Cello and Piano (third movement), and Franck’s Sonata in A for Violin and Piano. You may be familiar with these works in their original versions, so I won’t go into a lot of description here. What I will say is that all of them sound absolutely natural when played on the double bass; indeed, if you didn’t know that they were originally composed for different instruments, you could easily presume that they were composed for the bass. (That’s not too surprising in the first two works, as the move from cello to bass at least seems like a plausible idea. But it really is amazing that the third piece loses nothing in the translation.) In all three, what could have sounded just gimmicky are instead propelled by Sung’s musical sensitivity as well as her virtuosity and come across simply as wonderful music. Yes, the bass gives the pieces more sonic weight, but it never weighs them down.

The sound on both discs is clean and natural, although that on the second is just a touch more distant that on the first. (The recording venues were different.) I listened to the album on my streaming service; sadly, the CD booklet was not available there. (I wish I knew why booklets are or are not available on streaming service that support them; they are for some newer works but not for all.) The CD is generally available, but you also can purchase a digital download of the entire thing at Mikyung Sung’s website.

Recent Releases No. 57 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Chen Gang and He Zhanhao: Butterfly Lovers Violin Concerto (arr. Yan Huichang and Ku Lap-Man); Saint-Saëns: Introduction et Ronde Capriccioso in A minor, op. 28; Massenet: “Méditation” from Thaïs; Sarasate: Zigeunerweisen. Joshua Bell, violin; Singapore Chinese Orchestra conducted by Tsung Yeh

 

Those looking for something different  but not too far “out there” might well find themselves fascinated by this recording, one that mixes East and West in an unusual way. The Butterfly Lovers Violin Concerto, which was inspired by a romantic Chinese legend, was written in 1959 by the Chinese composers Chen Gang (b. 1935) and He Zhanhao (b. 1933). Their original version, which they richly scored for a full Western symphonic orchestra, has achieved global popularity. For this recording, however, violinist Joshua Bell has chosen to perform an adaptation of the work by Yang Hui Chang and Ku Lap-Man for an orchestra of mostly traditional Chinese instruments. As the liner notes explain, “the sound world of the concerto becomes more vivid , arresting, and visceral in this arrangement. For instance, instead of violin and viola sections echoing the sounds of the gaohu, the erhu, and the zhonghu – the Chinese bowed string instruments in various ranges – the Singapore Chinese Orchestra employs whole sections of skilled players of these as well as other traditional Chinese instruments. To anchor the ensemble sound, the orchestra includes Western cellos and double-basses. Aside from these, the percussion section and a guest harpist, however, all the other instruments are traditionally Chinese. The concerto is in seven short movements, with the solo violin, so expressively played here by Bell, weaving a tale of great passion throughout. The Chinese orchestra does not sound as exotic as the notes might lead the listener to expect; just not as full and soaring as a Western orchestra. It’s an interesting sound, to be sure, which carries over into the more familiar chestnuts that fill out this interesting-sounding album. 

 

Mozart Recital. Mozart: Gigue in G minor, K 574 “Eine kleine Gigue”; 12 Contredanses for Count Czernin, K 269b - Nos. 1, 2, 3, 12; Sonata No. 9 in D major, K 311; Allegro in G minor, K 512; Adagio in B minor, K 540; Variation on “Unser dummer Pöbel meint”, K 455; Sonata No. 12 in F major, K 332; Ave verum corpus, K 518 (arr. Franz Liszt). Su Yeon Kim, piano. Steinway & Sons 30211 

 

This all-Mozart recital is the first recording by the Korean pianist Su Yeon Kim (b. 1994), 2021 Grand Laureate of the Concours musical international de Montréal. The young artist has spent much of her career delving deep into Mozart’s music, having studied at the Mozarteum University in Salzburg and competed successfully at the Mozart International Competition. Although this background gave her a good foundation, to record an album of Mozart’s music still presented a formidable challenge to the young pianist: “Even after 10 years of diligent studies, I still felt like there were a few steps left before I fully understood Mozart’s music and the spirit behind it,” she explains. “His music is full of life and power, encompassing the full spectrum of human emotions and transcending all eras and cultural boundaries. I feel that I also learned, through Mozart's music, how to face myself in unfiltered way, how to accept and express from painful sadness to sheer joy.” On the album, she presents a variety of music of different styles, from the quirky opening Gigue, the rollicking Contredanses, and of course a couple of more substantial pieces, the Sonatas Nos. 9 & 12. Of course, even within the sonatas, Mozart gives us a variety of emotions, and Su Yeon Kim brings a deft touch to the keyboard that brings balance to the proceedings. Between the two sonatas are three standalone pieces – an Allegro, a heartfelt Adagio, and the energetic and playful Variations on “Unser dummer Pöbel meint.” She then closes her recital with the meltingly beautiful Franz Liszt arrangement of Mozart’s  Ave verum corpus. As usual, Steinway & Sons has done an excellent job of capturing the sound of the piano. 

 

Per Nørgård: Three Nocturnal Movements; Symphony No. 8; Lysning. Peter Herresthal, violin; Jakob Kullberg, cello; Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra; John Storgårds, conductor BIS-2502 SACD

 

Per Nørgård (b. 1932, pronounced “Per Ner-Gore”) is generally regarded to be one of the most the most important Danish composers since Nielsen. Long ago I had heard some orchestral music of his that I had found intriguing; this memory led me last year to acquire a boxed set of his symphonies, eight in number, which had been released on BIS. I found the set challenging but fascinating and even included it in a supplemental post of some more of my favorite releases of 2022, which you can read here. In that set, Symphony No. 8 was by the Vienna Philharmonic conducted by Finnish conductor Sakari Oramu (b. 1965). There is also a YouTube video of Finnish conductor John Storgårds (b. 1965) conducting the Helsinki Philharmonic in 2012, in what was I believe was the work’s premier (you can find that video here). At the end of the performance, Nørgård comes forward to acknowledge the applause of the concertgoers along with conductor Storgårds, to whom the work was dedicated. (For those who might be interested, there is also a video made at about the same time in which Nørgård and Storgårds discuss the symphony (and Sibelius), which you can watch here. 

 

Fast-forward a decade, and Storgårds is now the conductor for this 2023 release (the symphony was actually recorded in 2022, the other works in 2019), this time with the Bergen Philharmonic. The program opens with Three Nocturnal Movements for violin, cello, and orchestra. Violinist Peter Herresthal and cellist Jakob Kullberg are two of Nørgård’s long-term collaborators; Kullberg in particular had significant input into the creation of the work, which is three movements that evoke confusion and calm, mystery in the darkness, random points of light. Nocturnal, yes… The symphony is also in three movements, with the first, marked Tempo giusto, being significantly longer than the other two (11:28 in this performance, compared to the nearly identical 6:50 Andante molto and 6:49 for the final movement, which is marked simply as ♩ = 90. The work is bold, busy (lots of notes), and although probably not to everyone’s taste (what is?), intriguing. It is one of those works that seems to get better as it goes along, until by the last few minutes you realize that you are enthralled – the final movement has won you over – and you want to listen to it again. But before you do, you can spend a little relaxing time (4:43) in the glade, which is the term Nørgård uses to characterize Lysning, a soothing piece for string orchestra. As we have come to expect from BIS, the sonics are first-rate. For the record, I did my listening to the CD layer of this hybrid SACD, which also includes stereo SACD and 5.0 surround layers.

Recent Releases, No. 20 (CD Reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KWN

Massenet: Ballet Music (XRCD24/K2 review)

Le Cid. Also, Scenes Pittoresques; The Last Sleep of the Virgin; Offenbach: La Belle Helene; Berlioz: Dance of the Sylphs; Minuet of the Will-O’-the-Wisps. Louis Fremaux, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. Klavier/JVC VICJ-035-1107.

By John J. Puccio

To be honest, I don’t think audio recording has improved all that much since the introduction of home stereo almost seventy years ago. Sure, there have been some big changes, like Dolby noise reduction and digital engineering, but they haven’t always resulted in actual improvements. The real improvements have come in mastering techniques, transferring original recordings to LP, CD, SACD, or download. Here is where a number of companies over the years came up with unique strategies to perfect the art. In the old vinyl days, Sheffield Labs, for instance, had their direct to disc masters, and Mobile Fidelity had their half-speed remasters. Then came the digital age, and audiophile companies had to come up with other ploys to justify their existence. One tactic that Sheffield, Mo-Fi, and other companies employed was using the gold disc. The companies claimed that gold was better than silver for producing more precise, uniform pits for a CD laser to read, thus generating a more precise audio image. I almost always found that the gold products I reviewed did, indeed, sound better than their silver counterparts, usually appearing smoother and better detailed. Still, I always concluded my reviews of gold discs with the caution that I could never actually tell if the audio upgrade was the result of the disc’s gold plating or the result of better, more-careful remastering. So, now, with this Massenet disc, I had the chance to compare a well-made gold disc with a JVC XRCD24 remastering on silver, both made from the same master tapes.

My conclusions on the audio issue come at the end of the review, but first I’ll add a little something about the disc’s contents. The original EMI LP of Massenet’s Le Cid ballet music found its way to my attention quite by accident a couple of years after EMI made it back in 1971. You see, in the mid Seventies I was compiling a list of favorite audiophile records for a magazine article, and I had asked every music and audio lover I knew for their recommendations. Everybody contributed, from high-end audio dealers, audio engineers, and record and equipment reviewers to various friends professing “golden ears,” about thirty people in all. As you may have already guessed, this recording of Le Cid figured high in the final tally. It not only contained a great performance of the music, it sounded state-of-the-art.

As luck would have it, though, by the time I tried to buy the recording, EMI had already withdrawn their Studio Two vinyl disc that everybody loved so well and replaced it with a lower-priced issue in their Greensleeves line. Fortunately, it was still plenty good, with a tremendous dynamic range and a whopping big bass. The next time it showed up on LP in America was on the Klavier label. Then came the CD age, and it appeared both in EMI’s mid-priced Studio line and on a Klavier silver disc. The EMI release retained the vinyl’s warmth, but the slightly leaner-sounding Klavier disc seemed a bit more transparent. Then Klavier issued the recording on a 24-karat gold-plated disc that I eagerly sought out and still own. Unfortunately, Klavier didn’t keep it around for long, and today it’s rather hard to find and costly if you do find it. Ditto for their later XRCD24 silver disc.

The music on the album comprises bits and pieces of the orchestral score in Massenet’s opera, namely the second-act ballet, and conductor Fremaux and his Birmingham orchestra provide a vigorous, zesty rendition of the Spanish-flavored tunes. The story of the opera, of course, is based on Spain’s legendary hero, Rodrigo de Bivar, or “El Cid” (from the Arabic “Al Sid” or “Lord”) who in the eleventh century reclaimed the city of Valencia from the Moors and became the hero of one of Spain’s most significant medieval epic poems. Massenet’s music, which premiered in 1885, is tuneful, exciting, and highly Romantic by turns, and Maestro Fremaux provides it with exactly the zesty and exciting performance it needs. The disc’s accompanying music by Berlioz and Offenbach is equally well presented.

Producers David Mottley and Brian Culverhouse and engineers Stuart Eltham and Neville Boyling recorded the music for EMI Studio Two (the Le Cid music in 1971, as I said), and EMI originally released the vinyl LP in both two-channel stereo and four-channel Quadraphonic. Not long after, Klavier released the recording on LP and then later on silver disc. In 1994 engineer Bruce Leek remastered the original tapes for a Klavier gold disc, and some years after that JVC (Victor Company of Japan) remastered it once more, again for Klavier, this time using their meticulous XRCD24/K2 mastering and manufacturing processes, using JVC’s original analog mastering console, 24-bit K2 A/D converter, digital K2 interface, K2 rubidium master clock, and K2 laser cutter.

So, getting back to that question we started with: Which sounds better, the gold disc or the XRCD24 silver disc? Now, here’s the thing: I love the gold disc. It retained all the warmth of the LP that I remembered and with greater impact and definition than the ordinary compact disc. Consequently, I was eager to compare the gold disc to JVC’s XRCD24 silver transfer. Putting them into separate CD players and adjusting for a slight volume imbalance (the JVC plays about two decibels louder), I started switching back and forth. My findings were rather what I had expected. JVC’s silver disc was slightly more dynamic and exhibited slightly more transparency. By comparison, the gold disc sounded marginally smoother but softer. This is not, however, to say that the JVC transfer was brighter or edgier than the gold. Indeed, without the direct comparison, one would not even have considered such a thing. What was clear to me more than anything, though, was that the XRCD24/K2 silver disc seemed to have greater impact than the gold disc, something the original LP had in abundance.

Which still leaves me wondering whether it is gold plating that makes a difference in better sound or simply better remastering techniques. After this experience, though, I’m leaning more than ever on the idea of better mastering.

And what would the difference be between this XRCD24 on silver and the same XRCD24 on gold? I suspect no difference at all, but I doubt that we’ll ever find out.

JJP

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

Escales: French Orchestral Works (SACD review)

Music of Chabrier, Durufle, Saint-Saens, Debussy, Ibert, Massenet, and Ravel. John Wilson, Sinfonia of London. Chandos CHSA 5252.

The last few times I reviewed albums from conductor John Wilson, he was conducting the BBC Philharmonic in music of Aaron Copland; and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic in the music of John Ireland; and his own John Wilson Orchestra in the music of Cole Porter and Rodgers and Hammerstein. Now he's back, this time at the helm of the reconstituted Sinfonia of London, an on-and-off-and-on-again session ensemble originally formed in 1955. Whatever, Escales is an ebullient romp from Maestro Wilson and his players through several well-known (and some less well-known) French light pieces.

The program begins with the ever-popular Espana by Emmanuel Chabrier (1841-1894), the composer's French take on all things Spanish. Wilson gives us a sparkling presentation of Chabrier's colorful music, yet with few surprises. It's a well-crafted performance without offering much we haven't heard before.

The next two items are not quite as famous: Trois Danses by Maurice Durufle (1902-1986) and Le Rouet d'Omphale by Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921). The Durufle piece comes through quite well, perhaps helped by the fact that there aren't too many previous recordings with which to compare it. Wilson handles the dynamic contrasts and tonal shadings smoothly, the second, slow dance standing out. "The Spinning Wheel of Omphale" is a piece Saint-Saens based on a Greek legend, and Wilson does a good job helping it come alive for us in highly descriptive fashion.

Following them is the perennial hit Prelude a L'apres-midi d'un faune by Claude Debussy (1862-1918). "The Prelude to an Afternoon of the Fawn" is probably as renowned as the composer's La Mer. It is the most atmospheric work on the disc, and the listener probably already has multiple versions of it. Still, its sinuous moods can be captivating, even if Wilson's interpretation brings little that's new to the table.

John Wilson

Then there's the album's title music, Escales ("Ports of Call"), by Jacques Ibert (1890-1962). Each of its three sections evokes the sounds and flavor of a different location: Sicily, Tunisia, and Valencia. These were my favorite pieces, with Wilson recreating the sensations of the three locales vividly

The program wraps up with two prominent numbers, the "Meditation" from Thais by Jules Massenet (1842-1912) and Rapsodie espagnole by Maurice Ravel (1875-1937). The beauty of the "Meditation" never grows old, and while Wilson's rendering may not be as delicately wrought as some others, it effectively communicates the composer's expression of serenity and sensuality. The Ravel piece seems appropriate as it bookends the agenda with another French composer's idea of Spain. Wilson gives it fair due.

In sum, although John Wilson's take on this celebrated music breaks no new ground, everything is enthusiastically presented and meticulously performed. There is also enough variety in the selections to please most listeners and perhaps even to uncover a hidden gem or two the listener had not heard before. Fair enough.

Producer Brian Pidgeon and engineer Ralph Couzens recorded the music at the Church of St. Augustine, Kilburn, London in January and September, 2019. They recorded it for playback via hybrid SACD 2-channel and multichannel or regular CD 2-channel. As usual, I listened in SACD 2-channel via a Sony SACD player.

A mild hall resonance tells us where we are, and it's not unpleasant. Dynamics are good, with adequate impact for the big numbers like the Chabrier. Orchestral depth, too, is sufficient, though not entirely audiophile. While ultimate transparency is merely OK, the sound does project a reasonably lifelike presence. In other words, it's good, modern digital sound with a fairly well balanced frequency response, the kind of sound we're used to getting from Chandos.

JJP

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

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:

Saint-Saens, Ravel, Gershwin: Piano Concertos (CD review)

Andrew von Oeyen, piano; Emmanuel Villaume, PKF-Prague Philharmonia. Warner Classics 01 90295 90848 5.

The first question you might ask about this album is why it contains such seemingly disparate composers as Saint-Saens, Ravel, and Gershwin on the same program. The answer, of course, is that the agenda is not so unusual as you might think. Not only did all three men write piano concertos, but they all in some way or another influenced each another. In particular, Saint-Saens influenced Ravel, and Ravel and Gershwin influenced the other. Besides, the soloist for the album, Andrew von Oeyen, is an American now living in Paris, who says he has fallen in love with French music. Fair enough.

The second question you might ask is, Who is Andrew von Oeyen? He's an American concert pianist, born in 1979, who here makes his piano-and-orchestra debut recording after releasing several solo discs. He began playing the piano at age five and made his first stage appearance at age ten. By age sixteen he was playing with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and after further studies at Juilliard and Columbia University and wins in several important piano competitions, his career was well on its way. The present disc marks his first release for Warner Classics, with accompaniment by Emmanuel Villaume and the PKF-Prague Philharmonia.

The opening piece on the program is the Piano Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 22, by the French composer Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921). He wrote it in 1868, and it remains among the most-popular of his five piano concertos. Oddly for a modern concerto, Saint-Saens begins his work with a relatively slow movement, followed by a faster second movement that resembles a scherzo, and finishes with a very quick Presto. These mercurial tempo changes prompted the Polish pianist and composer Zygmunt Stojowski to joke that the piece "begins with Bach and ends with Offenbach."

There is no doubting von Oeyen's intensity from the start as he gives every indication that he wants to get our attention. He varies the contrasts about as much as I've ever heard, making the opening movement more balky than ever. Which is neither here nor there; just more emphatic. The second movement is cheerful and bouncy enough, and if anything the orchestra carries it though as much as Mr. von Oeyen. Then in the finale, von Oeyen goes full bore with an all-out assault on the score, sounding exciting enough if a bit too studied for my taste.

Andrew von Oeyen

Next, we hear the Piano Concerto in G Major by French composer Maurice Ravel (1875-1937). He wrote it between 1929 and 1931 after a concert tour of the United States. Its most notable feature is the use of American jazz idioms, which Ravel probably picked up from Gershwin, whose Rhapsody in Blue appeared several years earlier.

I rather enjoyed von Oeyen's Ravel more than his Saint-Saens, which tended toward a want of charm. Maybe it's the combination of American and French expressive styles that suits the pianist. Still, when one has spent years as I have listening to Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli (EMI/Warner) play the piece, it's hard to find comfort in anyone else's interpretation. By comparison, von Oeyen never quite displays the imagination or creates the atmosphere that Michelangeli does. Nevertheless, my own quibbles should not distract the listener from enjoying von Oeyen's approach, which is more straightforward yet still jazzy enough to satisfy almost anyone. Additionally, von Oeyen offers us a particularly sensitive slow movement that in itself may be enough to sell the disc.

After that we find the Second Rhapsody by American composer George Gershwin (1898-1937). Here, some folks might quibble about whether the piece is a real piano concerto at all, but I would remind them that by definition a modern concerto is "a composition for orchestra and a solo instrument" (Harvard Concise Dictionary of Music). Gershwin's Second Rhapsody fits the bill. He wrote it for the 1931 Hollywood movie Delicious, on which both he and his brother Ira worked. Initially, Gershwin (and/or the studio) called this particular musical sequence Manhattan Rhapsody, New York Rhapsody, and Rhapsody in Rivets. Shortly afterwards, Gershwin more fully orchestrated it for concert use, titling it the Second Rhapsody. Although other people later reorchestrated the music (most notably Robert McBride some fourteen years after the composer's death), Mr. von Oeyen here plays the original 1931 version.

Following the pattern of getting better as we go along on the disc, Von Oeyen does a splendid job conveying the hustle and bustle of Gershwin's big city. His virtuosity seems always at the service of the music rather than simply drawing attention to itself. What's more, Maestro's Villaume's orchestral accompaniment keeps the rhythms on track and the musical impulses moving forward in suitable agreement. There are no awkward convolutions here, just a polished and stimulating tone picture.

The program concludes with a "bonus track": the Meditation from Jules Massenet's Thais, transcribed for solo piano by Mr. von Oeyen and bringing the total recorded music on the disc to over sixty-six minutes. For me, this was the highlight of the album, a hushed and heartfelt rendition that never lapses into teary-eyed mawkishness.

Producer and editor Christopher Alder and engineer Jakub Hadraba recorded the album at Studio 1, Czech Radio, Prague, Czech Republic in August 2015. The piano sounds solid and well placed from the start, if a mite wide, and the tone rings true. When the orchestra enters in the first movement of the Saint-Saens, it appears dynamic, full, and resonant, if not particularly deep or transparent. While strings sound a touch shrill and fuzzy at times, the overall effect is one of soft warmth rather than forward  brightness (or ultimate clarity).

JJP

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