Ryan Ross’s Favorites of 2025

Until now I’ve resisted making such a list for Classical Candor. One gets so busy at the end of the year, and I’m always so painfully aware of how many new things I haven’t heard during the previous 12 months. But then I read Karl’s and Bill’s 2025 retrospectives and decided I would no longer let the perfect be the enemy of the fun. So here goes, holes and all!

John Field: Complete Nocturnes. Alice Sara Ott, pianist. Deutsche Grammophon 486 623-8

 

If you’d told me a year ago that a disc of Field nocturnes would top my favorites of 2025 I’d have been skeptical. But like Bill, I came away mightily impressed with the sound and artistry exhibited in this Alice Sara Ott release. As I said on my own blog, she plays these nocturnes with a conviction that makes them punch above their weight. She sets a great example in taking music that is still too under-appreciated and showing what’s possible for it in sympathetic, capable hands. This is healthy for the classical music tradition. I salute her and invite other performers to take notice.

 

Lepo Sumera: Symphonies Nos. 1 and 6. Olari Elts, conductor; Estonian National Symphony Orchestra. Ondine ODE 1449-2

 

Whenever I don’t know a composer’s music well before reviewing a disc of it, I always do a lot of homework prior to beginning my write-up. In this way I became acquainted with a fair number of Lepo Sumera’s works over several weeks this past spring. Discovering his sound world has been a joy, and I’ll repeat what I said in June: this First Symphony in particular is a late-20th-century masterpiece and proof that the symphonic tradition was evolving instead of dying. This recording is a sharp testament to the merits of both symphonies included and was a highlight of my reviewing year.

 

Domenico Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonatas (selection); Kurtág: Selections from Játékok. András Schiff, pianist. Lucerne Festival Historic Performances. Audite 97.838

 

Confession time: I don’t really care for the music of Gyӧrgy Kurtág and consciously left out any mention of his pieces in my November review of this recording. But Schiff’s live performances of these Scarlatti sonatas are (with one slight transgression of my taste) so superlative that they alone propel the whole venture to my 2025 favorites list. To be candid (see what I did there?), more pianists of the first rank need to be recording Scarlatti’s sonatas…and not just the well-trodden ones like K. 380. This release is a major brick laid in what I hope will be a long and storied road in years to come.

 

Domenico Scarlatti: Selected Keyboard Sonatas. Javier Perianes, pianist. Harmonia Mundi HMM902768

 

Speaking of Scarlatti, here’s another beauty that appeared in 2025. It took me a while to become accustomed to Javier Perianes’s vision for these pieces. But once I did I was hooked. This is a full-blooded, lively pianism exhibited across a nice selection of sonatas. Perianes shows just how much interpretive territory is left to stake in even the pieces we think we know so well, let alone the less heard. A case in point is his K. 466; rarely will you hear it so sumptuously presented. It’s now one of my favorite performances. His K. 492 positively brims with color and life. More of this, please!

 

Mieczysław Weinberg: Complete Music for Cello and Orchestra. Nikolay Shugaev, cellist; Yuri Medianik, conductor; Tyumen Philharmonic Orchestra. Naxos 8.574679

 

After writing my review of this release in June, I checked out what other reviewers said about it in Gramophone and elsewhere. Some didn’t seem to be as impressed with the performances. I stand by what I said in admiring their crispness. But to be honest, I was as much reviewing the repertoire and its selection as I was the performances themselves. I’ll restate a recurring theme in my remarks here: Weinberg tends to test my patience with his inconsistency. After wading through long stretches of dreary or middling music, I’m always excited when I can give something of his full-throated praise. Maybe these performances won’t impress everyone, but for the Naxos price they’ll be fine for most listeners. And again, this Cello Concerto and Cello Concertino (two versions of similar material) are ideally presented together. Whichever version you prefer is a winner in an oeuvre of hit-and-miss.

 

Franz Liszt: Complete Piano Music, Volume 67: March Transcriptions. Paul Williamson, pianist. Naxos 8.574717

 

I caught this only at the very end of the year. Assuming the pianist is competent (and Paul Williamson is more than that), I always know I’m going to have a good time listening to Liszt transcriptions…especially ones I didn’t know (or don’t remember having heard) beforehand. I probably did hear most or all of these in Leslie Howard’s impressive cycle for Hyperion. But if so it was a while ago, and I don’t remember the transcription of the Széchényi march that occupies the first track. It is one of several numbers here that I liked so much I listened to them multiple times in a row. Serendipity is one of the great joys of classical music. One other thing: we’re now at Vol. 67 in Naxos’s complete Liszt piano music project. If I remember correctly from years ago in the 90s, they talked about it spanning 70+ (or maybe 75+) discs. If that’s still true, I’m a little wistful about the end approaching.

 

Bonus Pick: Études Mélodiques. Marie Awadis, pianist and composer. Deutsche Grammophon 486-599-2

 

Technically this came out in 2024. But I did not review it here, and missed the chance to include it in an End-of-Year Favorites List last time. So I’ll tack it onto this list with a few short remarks. Simply put, this is among my favorite new music of the decade. It’s fresh, individual, and ACCESSIBLE contemporary fare that has a real chance to catch on with performers and audiences. Awadis has a pleasing personal voice, and I can see a few of these numbers filling program spaces in concerts that tend to go to Glass or Kapustin etudes. At least, they deserve to. Several are on my favorites playlists, but La Forêt Oubliée (No. 6) in particular transfixed me from the very first listen. It is absolutely magical. We should have the courage not only to try new things, but especially to try new things in styles exhibiting a popular touch. I can’t wait to hear more music by this composer.

Domenico Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonatas (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Domenico Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonatas (selection); Kurtág: Selections from Játékok. András Schiff, pianist. Lucerne Festival Historic Performances. Audite 97.838

These recorded live performances date from 1998 and 1999, when András Schiff was still in his prime and before he was beguiled by that dubious distraction of modern pianists: the period instrument. (If I never again hear a new recording of Beethoven or Schubert on the fortepiano, it will be too soon!) What it amounts to are a group of Scarlatti performances we didn’t know we needed but should be thrilled to have. Partially excepting a single one that I find slightly misjudged, these are all winners informed by the interpretive richness and precision of Schiff at his distinguished best.

We’ll start with my fly in the ointment: Sonata in D, K. 96, which occupies the very first track. Schiff infuses this with the wonderful colors and accentuation of inner voices that are his custom, but he overshoots with expressive rubato. Perhaps I am too influenced by Vladimir Horowitz’s iconic performance (on Sony SK 53460), but this piece calls more for exhilarating brilliance than it does for expressive probing. Schiff’s dramatic pauses, and extra time taken in the repeated-notes and passage-work sections, dilute that sense of brilliance a bit. For me this music needs consistency and drive for it to come off best. Despite lacking the tonal richness of Schiff’s take, Horowitz outdoes him here.

 

But putting this minor disappointment aside, I will admit that virtually the remainder of the Scarlatti renditions here are going right onto my Spotify favorites playlists. Much of Schiff’s success in these pieces comes down to shrewd repertoire selection. Nearly to a sonata do they play to his strengths mentioned above. While most of Scarlatti’s sonatas bear the stamp of his delightfully quirky musical voice, the ones on this recording plumb special depths. Moreover, most of them are not ones you hear too often. The result almost feels like a release of new repertoire, and certainly one that ought to feature prominently in the Scarlatti discography.

 

Some examples are in order. Schiff’s K. 518 in F replicates his K. 96’s gently halting pace, but the former’s aesthetic complexion is more relaxed and better suits such an approach. Moreover, the sudden shifts to chordal “strumming” (and other passages) allow the performer to accentuate the guitar-like flavor with which Scarlatti is often associated. It all works beautifully. Schiff’s K. 519 in F Minor shows him adopting a steadier motion that I wish his K. 96 had; it cruises along with a restrained breeziness. At least as good are the sonatas where Schiff can showcase his signature thoughtfulness. K. 513 in C and K. 426 in G Minor come readily to mind. Both performances illustrate why I prefer Scarlatti on the piano: their subtleties and deep wells of feeling are only enhanced by the capabilities of the modern instrument. Schiff exploits them to the fullest in these two numbers.

But my two favorite performances here are probably K. 394 in E Minor and K. 395 in E, one pairing among several that Schiff highlights. I often tell my students that Scarlatti’s sonata output is like the ocean: big stretches of it are seldom traversed. These two examples aren’t often chosen for star performer compilations (think the wonderful but ubiquitous K. 380 in E), nor even for the many one-off Scarlatti albums out there. But if you skip them, you’re missing out on unexpected glories. What of that sudden explosion of arpeggios (featuring chromatic-mediant harmonic juxtaposition) to head the second section of K. 394? It’s one of those instances where a simple gesture has more expressive power than it has any right to. In K. 395, the beginning of the second section again proves to be the linchpin for the entire work, with its brief sotto voce passage that prompts the listener to experience the surrounding material in new hues.

 

By way of concluding, I’ll admit to recently making a playlist of all 555 Scarlatti sonatas. The exercise took a long time because I wanted the best performances possible for each selection, and I was forced (if that’s the word) into a ton of listening just to achieve an approximation. The reason I mention this is that the exercise taught me a great deal, including the reality that even after all this time we are still living in the Wild West of Scarlatti recordings. There is a great deal of interpretive territory yet to be staked in repertoire that is endlessly explorable. Anybody who is even casually keeping track should buy this disc right away.

Miloš Baroque (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Scarlatti: Sonata in D Minor, K. 32 (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin); Vivaldi: Concerto No. 2 in G Minor, RV 439 “La Notte”: VI. Allegro (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*; Rameau: The Arts and the Hours (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin); Handel: Suite in B‐Flat Major, HWV 434: IV. Menuet (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin); Vivaldi: Concerto in B Minor, RV 580: I. Allegro (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*; Silvius Leopold Weiss: Passacaglia; Scarlatti: Sonata in F Minor, K. 466 (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin); Vivaldi: Concerto in B Minor, RV 580: III. Allegro (arr. for Guitar by Michael Lewin)*; Bach: Partita No. 2 in D Major, BWV 1004: Chaconne (arr. for Guitar); Alessandro Marcello: Concerto in D Minor: II. Adagio (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*; Boccherini: Quintet No. 4 in D Major, G 448: IV. Fandango (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*; Weiss: Fantasie; Couperin: Les Barricades mystérieuses (arr. for Guitar); Vivaldi: Trio Sonata in C Major, RV 82: II. Larghetto (arr. for Guitar & Baroque Ensemble by Michael Lewin)*. Miloš Karadaglić, guitar; *Arcangelo, directed by Jonathan Cohen. Sony Classical 19658822942

Classical guitarist Miloš Karadaglić (b. 1983), known professionally by his first name, Miloš, (sorry, but I can’t help but think of the inept tennis pro from Seinfeld) was born in Montenegro but now lives in England. He has released a number of albums, several of which have been reviewed here at Classical Candor. Back in 2011, John Puccio reviewed his album Mediterraneo, which, as you might guess from the title, included music by Mediterranean composers such as Albeniz, Tarrega, and Granados, along with some lesser-known names (you can find that review here). A year later, John reviewed the young guitarist’s next album, Pasio, which featured music from Latin America by tango master Astor Piazzolla and others (that review can be seen here). In 2014, John gave a listen to Miloš’s recording of Rodrigo’s touchstone guitar concerto, a piece that has been recorded by nearly every classical guitarist of note (Concierto de Aranjuez review here). Then in 2021, I reviewed a release titled The Moon and the Forest, wherein Miloš performs guitar concertos by contemporary composers Jody Talbot and Howard Shore (see that review here), concertos that he believes young listeners who have heard and enjoyed the Rodrigo will also find enjoyable.

On his newest album on the Sony Classics label, Miloš turns his attention to the Baroque period, bringing us music from Bach, Boccherini, Vivaldi, and others, some on solo guitar, some accompanied by the Arcangelo chamber orchestra. Miloš opines in the liner notes that “the Baroque age is a wonderful, mysterious, and exceptionally exciting period. At the same time the Baroque is the starting point for the way in which musical history went on to develop… I find it extraordinarily exciting to carry over into my music making the contrasts between light and shade that left their mark on Baroque art. This aspect emerges, for example, from the often abrupt shifts and the sudden interplay between solo instrument and orchestra. For me as a guitarist, there is something special about immersing myself in this music because it represents a completely different world from the one with which my instrument is traditionally associated.”

 

Once again we find a recording that has been shaped in some measure by the COVID-19 pandemic. Although Miloš had begun his preparations for this album before the advent of the virus, its emergence and resultant cancellation of touring and other normal activities allowed him to increase his efforts. “While the rest of the world was holding its breath and came to a standstill, I found that for me it was a time when I felt even more inspired than usual,” he recounts.  The album is generally arranged in a way that highlights the dynamic shadings that Miloš mentions. For example, the program opens with the restrained Scarlatti sonata, which Miloš plays on his solo guitar, but then the next selection, a movement from a Vivaldi concerto, ramps up the energy as Miloš’s guitar is joined by the strings of the chamber ensemble Arcangelo (which is, by the way, based in the UK), and then we are back to a more reflective solo guitar piece, an arrangement of Rameau’s The Arts and the Hours. It was hearing Icelandic pianist Vikingur Olafsson’s arrangement (you can see him playing it here) on his Debussy-Rameau album (see my review here) that introduced me to this music, which I found enchanting; hearing it again in a different arrangement on a different instrument has been another charming experience. 

The whole album is wonderfully entertaining, full of nothing less than refined music making. Two more cuts that really captured my fancy were the Weiss Fantasie, from a composer previously unknown to me and the Couperin Les Barricades mystérieuses, a piece with which I was previously familiar from hearing it played on piano recordings by Simone Dinnerstein (see review here) and Khatia Buniatushvili (see review here). Once again, Miloš makes both these pieces come to life from the strings of his guitar. Truth be told, the whole album is full of life; it is truly one of those releases that should appeal to a broad spectrum of music lovers. 

Recent Releases No. 56 (CD Reviews)

by Karl Nehring

Zygmunt Noskowski: Symphony No. 1 in A major; Symphony No. 2 in C minor, “Elegiac.” Deutsche Staatsphilharmonie Rheinland-Pfalz; Antoni Wit, conductor. Capriccio C5509.

Once again we have the exquisite pleasure of discovering worthwhile music by a composer whose name had been completely unknown to us (and probably many other music lovers) until now. It turns out that the relatively unknown Polish composer Zygmunt Noskowski (1846-1909) was a teacher of Szymanowski and student of Moniuszko, and for much of the 19th century was the primary exponent of contemporary symphonic music in Poland. In fact, Noskowski is considered to be one of the most significant Polish composers of the nineteenth century, one who produced successful output in nearly all musical genres: ballet, opera, sacred works, symphonies, symphonic poems, and smaller works (including works for children), especially for piano. As if that was not enough to occupy his time, he also pursued a parallel career as a music critic and journalist. 

 

As a conductor and concert organizer, Noskowski (left) championed the causes of forgotten Polish composers. Today, in a fitting turn of events, conductor Antoni Wit (with a distinguished recorded legacy of his own), who in fact  succeeded Noskowski at the helm of the Warsaw Philharmonic 94 years after Noskowski’s retirement, raises the profile of his late-Romantic colleague with this recording of his first two symphonies. So what do they sound like? Actually, they are quite enjoyable; in my own clumsy, inadequate way, I would describe them as sounding something like Schumann, but better orchestrated, richer in texture, and more satisfying both musically and emotionally.  Listening to them, I found myself surprised that I had never heard them before – and I am hardly a young man. This is music that deserves to be heard by a composer who certainly deserves to be heard. To that end, I give this new release my most enthusiastic recommendation.

 

The Blue Album. Satie: Gymnopédie No. 1; Couperin: Les baricades mistérieuses (from Pièces de clavecin II: Ordre 6ème in B flat); Glass: Orphée's Bedroom; Brouwer: Canción de Cuna; Debussy: Suite bergamasque - Clair de lune (arr. for guitar by Eduardo Sáinz de la Maza); Weiss: Passacaille; Satie: Gnossienne No. 1 (arr. for Guitar by Pedro Henriques da Silva); Scarlatti: Keyboard Sonata K32 in D minor (transcr. for guitar); Sor: Etude for guitar, Op. 6, No. 11 in E minor; Max Richter: A Catalogue of Afternoons; Debussy: La fille aux cheveux de lin (from Préludes - Book 1: No. 8); Yradier: La Paloma (arr. for guitar by Francisco Tárrega); Myers: Cavatina (from The Deerhunter, arr. for guitar by John Williams); Sakamoto: Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence. Pablo Sainz-Villegas, guitar. Sony Classical 19658779092

 

The Spanish classical guitarist Pablo Sainz-Villegas (b. 1977) writes in the liner notes for The Blue Album that it “brings together some of the most beautiful and most heartfelt melodies that have ever been written. All these pieces create a magical atmosphere, their colours create a mood, a mystery. The guitar whispers an invitation to the listener to explore and go to the most intimate part of your soul. It creates a moment to look inside and have a conversation with the essence of yourself.” Now, that might strike some music lovers as a bit over the top, at least in terms of the feel-good pop psychology flavor of the prose, but all I can say is that Sainz-Villegas has pulled together a remarkable program of music by composers from different eras and countries, music that is soothing but not saccharine. From music by composers you might expect to find given the guitarist’s description, such as the pieces by French composers Debussy and Satie (you can watch a video of him playing Satie here), there is also music ranging from long-ago composers such as Couperin and Scarlatti to contemporary composers such as Philp Glass and Max Richter. As Sainz-Villegas puts it, “The Blue Album is a collection of musical works from different periods, composers and aesthetics that coexist and talk to each other in a space of calm and peace.” Listening to the album does indeed bring to the listener a sense of calm and peace. But there is real musical substance here, not New Age strumming. This is serious music: seriously performed and seriously recommended.  

Art of the Mandolin (CD review)

Music of Vivaldi, Beethoven, Bruce, Sollima, Scarlatti, Ben-Haim, and Henze. Avi Avital, mandolin; Alon Sariel, mandolin; Sean Shibe, guitar; Anneleen Lenaerts, harp; Ophira Zakai, theorbo; Patrick Sepec, cello; Yizhar Karshon, harpsichord; Venice Baroque Orchestra. DG 00289 483 8534.

By John J. Puccio

Israeli mandolinist Avi Avital (b. 1978) made his debut album some years ago on the Naxos label and has since followed it up with several more albums for DG, including this one, called simply Art of the Mandolin, and featuring music by Vivaldi, Beethoven, Bruce, Sollima, Scarlatti, Ben-Haim, and Henze. Although Avital’s speciality may be music of the Baroque period, the selections on the present album span everything from the Baroque era to the present.

As I said of Avital in an earlier review, he “is unquestionably a fine mandolin player, his tone sweet and fluid, his tempos well judged, neither too breakneck fast nor too maddeningly slack, and his natural affinity for the instrument always in evidence in his intonation and flexibility.” Certainly, the same can be said about his playing this time around as well.

The mandolin, if you’re not quite sure about it, is a stringed musical instrument in the lute family, usually plucked with a small piece of plastic, metal, or ivory. It commonly has four adjacent rows of doubled metal strings tuned in unison (8 strings), although five (10 strings) and six (12 strings) versions are also popular. Mandolins developed from the lute family of instruments in Europe, and some their predecessors include the gittern and mandola in Italy during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. There are a number of regional variants but two of the most common ones are the Neapolitan mandolin and the Lombardic mandolin, the Neapolitan style probably most well known (and thank you, Wikipedia).

Anyway, the album begins with the Concerto for 2 Mandolins, Strings and Basso continuo in G major by Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741). Here, Avital is accompanied by Alan Sariel, mandolin, and the Venice Baroque Orchestra. They take the outer Allegros with a graceful panache, not too fast but quick enough to give them a lively spirit. These sections also give the soloists a chance to show off their considerable skills, and the final movement is particularly robust. The central Andante is delicately handled, light as a feather, sweet as a flower in May. Quite lovely all the way around, actually.

Next, we hear the Adagio ma non troppo in E flat major for Mandolin and Harp by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827). Avital is accompanied by Anneleen Lenaerts on harp, and together they provide a beautifully lyrical reading of Beethoven’s music. It is a love song, really, and the pair do well by it.

After that is Death Is a Friend of Ours by British composer David Bruce (b. 1970), with Avital, mandolin; Sean Shibe, guitar; Anneleen Lenaerts, harp; Ophira Zakai, theorbo; and Yizhar Karshon, harpsichord. Here we get a surprising throwback for a modern work, combining the best of the nineteenth century with a distinctly contemporary sensibility. It’s vibrant and rhythmic with a charming middle section. It’s all quite festive, in fact, despite the rather gloomy titles the composer gave to the movements: “Inside the Wave,” “The Death of Despair,” and “Death Is a Friend of Ours.”

Things continue with the Prelude for Solo Mandolin by Italian composer and cellist Giovanni Sollima (b. 1962), in which Avital obviously takes it alone. It’s the most-recent composition on the program, yet it references older styles and dances. It’s also probably the most fascinating and imaginative piece on the agenda. Avital’s playing is a revelation.

Following that is the Sonata in D minor for Mandolin and Basso continuo by Domenico Scarlatti (1685-1757). Here, Avital is accompanied Ophira Zakai, theorbo; Patrick Sepec, cello; and Yizhar Karshon, harpsichord. Scarlatti’s work is stately and dignified, The fact that the composer may not have been written the piece specifically for the mandolin is beside the point. Surviving manuscripts do not indicate what solo instrument Scarlatti had in mind, but the music seems well suited to the mandolin, and Avital appears to enjoy it.

Then there is the Sonata a tre for Mandolin, Guitar and Harpsichord by Israeli composer Paul Ben-Haim (1897-1984), where Avital is accompanied by Sean Shibe, guitar, and Yizhar Karshon, harpsichord. Here, the music references Middle-Eastern sounds, and it makes a nice contrast with the rest of the lineup.

The program concludes with the Carillon, Recitatif, and Masque for Mandolin, Guitar and Harp by German composer Hans Werner Henze (1926-2012). Avital is accompanied by Sean Shibe, guitar, and Anneleen Lenaerts, harp. The three movements well describe the sounds therein, and Avital and company do a good job delineating them. Avital says he likes to think of the opening section as “a walk through an imaginary toyshop.” The sounds are creative in themselves and creatively explored by the soloists, whose three instruments blend into one.

Producer Andreas Neubronner and engineers Sebastian Nattkemper and Rainer Maillard recorded the music at Stadttheater, Furth; Teldex Studio, Berlin; and Meistersaal, Berlin. As we might expect from DG, the sound is clear and rich, with a hint of hall resonance to complement the realism of each track.

JJP

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

Doug Wendt: Classical Guitar (CD review)

Doug Wendt, guitar. Wendt Recordings.

Classical guitarist, jazz guitarist, pop guitarist, bluegrass guitarist, folk guitarist, blues guitarist, teacher, and experienced chef to boot, Doug Wendt is pretty much an all-around performer. According to his bio, he earned a B.A. in Guitar Performance from California State University of the East Bay (CSUEB). Also an experienced chef, including over ten years as sous-chef at a top-class Italian Restaurant, Doug decided to make his part-time music activities into a full-time career about fifteen years ago.

As a classical guitarist, Doug has worked and performed extensively with Gordon Rowland of www.guitarwork.com. What's more, Doug has maintained a longtime collaboration with vocalist Tré Taylor including their current jazz quintet "Dangerous Martini." Earlier bands with Tré included "Soul Attraction," a 10-piece R&B soul band, and "Earl Slide Ride," featuring Motown and Blues.

Doug's wife, Deborah Kuhl, (singer, songwriter, and pianist), who regularly performs a repertoire of French music, borrows Doug on occasion and featured both Doug and Gordon Rowland on her CD "Carte Postale."

On the present disc, Wendt plays classical guitar, the program running high to his favorite composer, J.S. Bach. The selections include Bach's "Prelude" from the Cello Suite No. 1, "Gavotte," "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring," "Little Prelude," "Double," and "Bouree." In addition, we get Alessandro Scarlatti's "Gavotte"; Domenico Scarlatti's "Sonata in A" and "Sonata in Em"; Antonio Lauro's "Preludio Venesolano," "Andreina," and "Natalia"; and two anonymous tunes, "Romance" and "Greensleeves."

Doug Wendt

Doug brings to all of this material the same warmth and affection I've heard from him live: low-key presentations that never call attention to the performer but always showcase the music. In other words, you'll find more flamboyant guitarists around, ones who revel in the dexterity of their finger work and virtuosity of their playing; but one can hardly find anyone more committed to bringing to life the spirit of the composers and their music than Doug Wendt.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting Wendt is another Angel or Pepe Romero, John Williams, Andres Segovia, Julian Bream, David Russell, Narciso Yepes, or the like. But he is good, and he projects an agreeable sweetness in his music. So, onward....

Among my favorites on the disc is Wendt's playing of Domenico Scarlatti's "Sonata in A," an item I've heard any number of times performed on solo harpsichord, piano, and guitar. Some musicians seem intent on attacking it full throttle, while others appear content with providing cozy, almost sentimental interpretations. Doug does neither; he comes at the score gently but firmly, caressing each note without unduly emphasizing each one. The result is a performance that sounds neither sensational nor lackluster but just right.

Wendt chooses fairly modest tempos throughout the program, so, again, he's not trying to impress the listener with wild flights of fancy or gushy, maudlin outbursts. The familiar "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" and "Greensleeves," for example, come across charmingly and effortlessly, with the guitar producing a warm, rich sound that well complements the compositions. As my wife remarked, the chords are so simple, but they're soft and beautiful. Indeed, they are. It's a lovely album.

Thomas Martin and Jamie Bridges recorded the music in 2010. The sound appears fairly close but very well detailed and realistic. There's a modest amount of resonance involved, too, which helps to gives the guitar a lifelike sense of presence. Fortunately, the close miking is not so severe as to spread the instrument across the entire soundstage but keeps the guitar nicely focused between the speakers.

To learn more about Doug Wendt and his work, visit http://www.dougwendtguitar.com/.

JJP

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

Through the Years (CD review)

Dmitry Paperno, piano. Cedille Records CDR 90000 074.

Soviet-born (Ukraine), American émigré concert pianist Dmitry Paperno (b. 1929) turned seventy-five in the year of this recording's release, 2004, and he showed he still knew his stuff. Through the Years remains one of the most-satisfying piano recitals you can find.

Although Dmitry Paperno is probably still not a household name in America, his talent is evident in every note of this confident, relaxing, inspired album. The material he chose for inclusion on the disc is thankfully not quite of the tried-and-true warhorse variety but a mixture of popular with lesser-known, slightly melancholy pieces that fit the mood set by the small, lonely figure in the golden autumn pictured on the CD booklet cover.

Dmitry Paperno

Among the eighteen works in the collection include Bach's Sinfonia No 2, Scarlatti's Sonata in C minor, Schumann's Intermezzo in D minor, Liszt's Sonetto del Petrarca, Debussy's "Hommage a Rameau," Borodin's "In a Monastery," and so on. But my two favorites are Beethoven's lovely "Andante favori" and Albeniz's heartbreaking "Tango." Each of the works on the disc is a tiny gem, played and polished by an artist with a feeling for the music. Paperno provides all the nuance and sensitivity the pieces demand.

Cedille's recording characteristics always sound first rate, and this effort is no different. The piano tone is quite natural, Mr. Paperno's Steinway appearing well defined without being bright, forward, hard, or edgy. There is a nice bloom to the musical ambience as well, lending a most realistic if not always transparent quality to the sonics. In other words, the sound matches the mood of the music: easy, casual, cultivated, and perfectly charming.

JJP

To hear an excerpt from this album, click on the forward arrow:

James Brawn in Recital, Volume 2 (CD review)

"The Time Traveller and His Muse." James Brawn, piano. MSR Classics MS 1502 (2-disc set).

This is by my count British concert pianist James Brawn's sixth album for MSR Classics, and in that time he has become one of my favorite classical performers. His work never fails to impress and delight me, the present collection no exception.

As I said about Mr. Brawn the first time I heard him, "He's been winning awards since he was a child, teaching, and performing (mainly in New Zealand, Australia, and England) to great acclaim, and this new recording makes one understand his appeal. He is a consummate artist."

Mr. Brawn has subtitled the album "The Time Traveller and His Muse," which is also the title of many of his concert recitals. Certainly, with this collection he is a time traveller, indeed, as the selections on the program span some four centuries, from Domenico Scarlatti to George Gershwin. Brawn has arranged the tracks chronologically as follows.

Disc One:
  1. Domenico Scarlatti: Sonata in E major, K.380
  2. Domenico Scarlatti: Sonata in C major, K.159 La Caccia
  3. Johann Sebastian Bach: Well-Tempered Clavier, Bk I - Prelude in C major, BWV 846
  4. Johann Sebastian Bach: Well-Tempered Clavier, Bk I - Prelude in C minor, BWV 847
  5. Johann Sebastian Bach: Well-Tempered Clavier, Bk I - Prelude in D major, BWV 850
  6. Johann Sebastian Bach: Well-Tempered Clavier, Bk I - Prelude in E-flat minor, BWV 853
  7. Johann Sebastian Bach: Well-Tempered Clavier, Bk I - Prelude in E major, BWV 854
  8. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Sonata No.11 in A major, K.331 Rondo alla Turca
  9. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Fantasia in D minor, K.397
10. Ludwig van Beethoven: Für Elise (Bagatelle in A minor)
11. Franz Schubert: Moment Musicale No. 3 in F minor, D.780
12. Franz Schubert: Impromptu No. 3 in G-flat major, D.899
13. Frederic Chopin: Prelude No. 4 in E minor, Op. 28
14. Frederic Chopin: Étude No. 12 in C minor, Op. 25 Ocean
15. Frederic Chopin: Étude No. 3 in E major, Op. 10 La Tristesse
16. Frederic Chopin: Étude No. 1 in A-flat major, Op. 25 Aeolian Harp
17. Frederic Chopin: Étude No. 5 in G-flat major, Op. 10 Black Key

Disc Two:
  1. Frederic Chopin: Prelude No. 15 in D-flat major, Op. 28 Raindrop
  2. Frederic Chopin: Prelude in C-sharp minor, Op. 45
  3. Franz Liszt: Consolation No. 3 in D-flat major, S.172
  4. Johannes Brahms: Waltz in A-flat major, Op. 39, No. 15
  5. Johannes Brahms: Intermezzo in A major, Op. 118, No. 2
  6. Edvard Grieg: Arietta in E-flat major, Op. 12, No. 1
  7. Alexander Scriabin: Étude in C-sharp minor, Op. 2, No. 1
  8. Sergei Rachmaninoff: Prelude in C-sharp minor, Op. 3, No. 2
  9. Sergei Rachmaninoff: Prelude in G-sharp minor, Op. 32, No. 12
10. Sergei Rachmaninoff: Prelude in B minor, Op. 32, No. 10
11. Sergei Rachmaninoff: Prelude in D major, Op. 23, No. 4
12. Sergei Rachmaninoff: Prelude in G major, Op. 32, No. 5
13. Sergei Prokofiev: Toccata in D minor, Op. 11
14. George Gershwin: I Got Rhythm

I continue to marvel that everything Brawn touches turns to magic. I have yet to hear him play anything I didn't like, that didn't sound just the way I imagine the composer intended yet with the added merit of Brawn's personal touch. Brawn never distorts the music and never uses it to call attention to himself and his virtuosic skills, yet he is also able to make all of it his own, reveling in every nuance of phrasing, contrast, tempo, and dynamics.

Of course, that doesn't mean listeners won't have their favorites among the selections. Mine are probably just favorite pieces of music that I took pleasure in hearing anew and so well played. For instance, while I am not the biggest fan of the Scarlattis, the father Allessandro or the son Domenico recorded here, I have to admit the two pieces he plays make a good, dashing opening for the album, with Brawn providing a healthy splash of élan.

James Brawn

Then we get five of Bach preludes, which Brawn calls "the Old Testament of keyboard repertoire." Never mind that Bach wrote them for harpsichord or clavichord because under Brawn's ever-watchful control they make beautiful pieces for the piano. The ones Brawn has chosen to play alternate between fast and slow, the juxtaposition quite flattering.

Of course, it's always fun to hear Mozart's "Rondo alla Turca," yet Brawn doesn't overplay it to show off his skills. It's just as exciting played with care for the music rather than care for the thrills alone. Brawn's sensitive handling of the Fantasia that follows is exquisite in its subtle detail.

The only piece we get from Beethoven is the little bagatelle "Fur Elise." Along with the opening movement of the "Moonlight Sonata" it may be the composer's most familiar piece of solo piano music. I doubt that anyone hasn't heard it and wouldn't recognize it, so it isn't easy to bring anything to it that pianists before Brawn haven't already done. Nevertheless, it comes off as perfectly as one could imagine, filled with nostalgic remembrances and an ever-sweet charm.

And speaking of charm, whose music was ever more charming than Schubert's? Brawn approaches it with refinement, wit, and grace.

Then disc one ends (and disc two begins) with what I found the highlights of the album: the music of Chopin: preludes and études. Brawn seems to have a natural affinity for Chopin, and the snippets he provides only whetted my appetite for more of the same. If you find the playing of Rubinstein a tad too cold or distant or Pollini a bit too quick or calculated and other noted pianists a touch too sentimental or matter-of-fact or romanticized or whatever, you might find Brawn exactly what you want. His Chopin is big when it needs to be big, extrovert when necessary, gentle, passionate, delicate, brilliant, you name it as the occasion requires. One listen to the Etude No. 3, Op. 10 or the Prelude No. 15, Op. 28, and you may find them as meltingly beautiful and as perfectly executed as I did.

And so it goes. The Liszt is heavenly; the Brahms has a genuine lilt and lyricism without appearing excessively sad or melancholy for its own sake; the Grieg and Scriabin are flowing and melodic.

Which brings us to Rachmaninoff, the great twentieth-century pianist-composer who never quite left the nineteenth century behind. Brawn shows us that despite Rachmaninoff's reputation, he incorporated any number of modern elements in his style, particularly in the five preludes presented here. In fact, they never sound overtly "Romantic," except, perhaps, in their sometimes melodramatic underpinnings. In any case, Brawn pulls them off as well as anybody, with little or no exaggeration.

The program ends with Prokofiev and Gershwin, both of them providing the kind of zingers the album needs to close strong. The Gershwin, incidentally, Brawn plays in a transcription he first heard played by Jon Kimura Parker, another of my favorite pianists.

Now, Mr. Brawn: How about an entire album of Chopin? The nocturnes would be wonderful.

Producer Jeremy Hayes and engineer Ben Connellan recorded Mr. Brawn at Potton Hall, Suffolk, United Kingdom in August and November 2014. The piano sound, as before, is clean, clear, rich, and resonant. The venue provides just enough ambient bloom to make the instrument come alive and appear lifelike. The natural warmth provides a realistic-sounding response, as though the listener were actually in the room with the piano, albeit at a moderate distance. Transient response, dynamics, and frequency balance are exemplary as well, nothing too hard, too soft, too bright, or too edgy. In other words, excellent sound.

JJP

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