Overtures & Intermezzi (CD review)

Anne-Sophie Mutter, violin; Herbert von Karajan, Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. EMI 7243 5 74764 2 3.

While many other classical record companies had cut back severely on their output or curtailed production altogether in the early 2000's, it was reassuring to see EMI maintaining a healthy monthly release schedule of new and reissued material. Of course, the company would finally turn over its catalogue to Warner Classics, but in this case, their reissued stuff was among the best there was. Now, Warner Classics have made this 2003 reissue available on their own label, although you can still get it new on the older EMI label if you look around for it.

Anyway, the album in question is all about Maestro Herbert von Karajan, who did most of his recording during the Sixties, Seventies, and Eighties with DG but always keep his ties open with EMI, having signed a contract with them all the way back in the Forties. He continued working with EMI almost exclusively through the Fifties and sporadically thereafter. While the earliest overtures and intermezzi contained on this album derive from 1960 and 1976, most of it is from the early 80's.

Herbert von Karajan

The items include Johann Strauss's Gypsy Baron Overture, Massenet's "Meditation" from Thais, Cherubini's Anacreon Overture, Weber's Der Freischutz Overture, Schmidt's Notre Dame Intermezzo, Puccini's Suor Angelica and Manon Lescaut Intermezzi, Mascagni's L'amico Fritz Intermezzo, Humperdink's Hansel und Gretel Overture, and Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture.

As usual, Karajan played them with his somewhat Romantic, glamorous, grandiose touch, the thematic qualities of the music sometimes playing second fiddle to the sheer beauty of the sound. It's what Karajan did best and why he was one of the most-popular conductors of his time. With bits like Anne-Sophie Mutter playing the violin in Thais, the old magic returning in Hansel und Gretel, and the Berlin Philharmonic at their peak, the collection remains a surefire crowd-pleaser.

EMI's sound for Karajan and the BPO is less warm, less padded, and less congested than what we often heard from the same ensemble on DG. Instead, the EMI sound is slightly bright, fairly open, and reasonably transparent. Surprisingly, perhaps, I found the oldest recording on the disc sounding the best, the 1960 rendering of Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture. To my ears it is the most realistically ambient, with its stereo spread the widest, its depth of image the most noticeable, and its resonant hall sonics the most clearly captured. And as with almost all newer remasterings, there is virtually no background noise to contend with and no appreciable loss of high end. In all, then, this is a pleasant collection.

JJP

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

Dances for Piano and Orchestra (HDCD review)

Joel Fan, piano; Christophe Chagnard, Northwest Sinfonietta. Reference Recordings RR-134. 

Sometimes I wonder how classical music fans manage to keep all the performers straight. I mean, I see monthly release sheets from every distributor of classical discs in the country, and I listen to five or six new recordings a week. Yet even I can't keep track of who is recording what or who the stars are. For example, when I received the present album from Reference Recording, I saw the name "Joel Fan" in big letters at the top. I had no idea if he was the composer or the soloist for the disc. I had to read the booklet to figure out that he is a talented young American pianist who has worked with Yo-Yo Ma and the Silk Road Project as well as debuting a few years ago on another Reference Recordings album.

Anyway, on the current disc, Mr. Fan joins Maestro Christophe Chagnard and the Northwest Sinfonietta in a series of seven short dance numbers for piano and orchestra by composers Pierne, Herrera, Chopin, Saint-Saens, Weber, Gottschalk, and Cadman. Fan plays with considerable precision, the Northwest Sinfonietta lend him excellent support, and Reference Recordings produces its usual outstanding sound.

According to Mr. Fan's Web site, he "is a graduate of Harvard College, received a Masters degree from Peabody Conservatory as a student of Leon Fleisher, and is now a Steinway artist. He is one of the most dynamic and accomplished musicians performing before the public today. He is consistently acclaimed for his recitals, recordings, and appearances with orchestras throughout the world. His concerts attract a wide range of audiences, as he has eagerly embraced traditional piano literature as well as an eclectic range of repertoire, including new music commissioned especially for him, world music, and his own transcriptions. Mr. Fan's engaging personality, technical assurance, lyricism, and sheer musicality win over audiences wherever he performs. As a recording artist, Mr. Fan scored two consecutive Billboard Top 10 Debuts with his solo CDs, World Keys and West of the Sun." Well, so much for my not recognizing his name.

First up on the program is the Fantaisie-Ballet by French composer, conductor, and organist Gabriel Pierne (1863-1937). This work came early in Pierne's career, when he was only twenty-one, and Fan and company well demonstrate its youthful vigor and Romantic flair. The soloist captures its light, elegant moments nicely and then fills it out with a grand and exciting virtuosity.

Next is Vals Capricho by Mexican concert pianist and composer Ricardo Castro Herrera (1864-1907). The "Caprice Waltz" is another virtuosic piece, and Fan again demonstrates his dexterity in playing with seemingly ten fingers on each hand. Yet it is also a surprisingly delicate piece of music, with a wonderfully lilting rhythm that Fan and the Sinfonietta express as perfectly as one could imagine.

After that is Krakowiak in F Major by Polish composer and virtuoso pianist Frederic Chopin (1810-1849). This "Grand Concerto Rondo" Chopin based on the style of a familiar dance in the Krakow area, and Fan and company handle it with a charming grace and refinement, with just a touch of twinkle.

Joel Fan

The fourth item is Valse-Caprice in A-flat Major "Wedding Cake" by French composer, organist, conductor, and pianist Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921). The work is quite popular so you'll find a lot of pianists have recorded it, but Fan does it up as well as anybody, smoothly articulate and cheerfully pulsating.

The fifth selection is Polonaise Brillante, a solo piano piece by German composer, conductor, pianist, and critic Carl Maria von Weber (1786-1826) and later orchestrated by Franz Liszt. Typical of Liszt, the piece is full of bravura showmanship and heroic landscapes, which Fan executes with an unerring command.

The penultimate number is the Grand Tarantelle by American composer and pianist Louis Moreau Gottschalk (1829-1869), reconstructed by Hershy Kay. Critics often credit Gottschalk as a precursor of ragtime, itself a precursor of jazz. This work, however, is energetically rhythmic in the manner of an Italian tarantella. It's dance tune swirls and whirls, with Fan hardly stopping to catch his breath. It's quite a lot of fun.

Finally, we get Dark Dancers of the Mardi Gras, a "Fantasy for Orchestra with Piano," by American composer Charles Wakefield Cadman (1881-1946). His music is probably the most unique on the album, partly Romantic, partly modern, partly Joplin, partly Gershwin, and mostly descriptive, it is melodious, ambitious, and vivid. Fan, Chagnard, and the Northwest players appear to be having a great time with it, and the piece ends the program on a splendidly grand, celebratory note.

Producers Marina A. Ledin, Victor Ledin, and Marcia Gordon Martin and engineer Keith O. Johnson made the recording at Lagerquist Concert Hall, Pacific Lutheran University, Tacoma, Washington in August 2013. As always with an album engineered by "Professor" Johnson, we get above all a realistic presentation. We don't always get the most transparent recording in terms of ultimate or absolute clarity, but we do get a lifelike ambiance, a truthful sense of orchestral depth and dimensionality, a pleasant hall resonance, a quick transient response, a broad frequency range (lows through the floor, highs shimmering endlessly), wide dynamics, strong impact, and plenty of air and space around the instruments. The piano itself appears well placed in regard to the orchestra, neither too far out front nor too hidden away but part and parcel of the overall sonic picture. The recording sounds most natural all the way around.

JJP

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

Weber: Symphonies Nos. 1 and 2 (CD review)

Also, Invitation to the Dance; Bassoon Concerto. Karen Geoghegan, bassoon; Juanjo Mena, BBC Philharmonic. Chandos CHAN 10748.

Think of German pianist, guitarist, conductor, critic, and composer Baron Carl Maria Friedrich Ernst von Weber (1786-1826) as one of the early pioneers of the Romantic movement in classical music. Anyone with a name that long deserves a reputation for something. His operas Euryanthe, Oberon, and Der Freischütz were especially influential in establishing the use of the leitmotif (a short, constantly recurring musical phrase); Berlioz, Wagner, and others would soon follow suit in their music. Anyway, on this Chandos album with the BBC Philharmonic and their Chief Conductor Juanjo Mena we get one of Weber’s most-famous works, the Invitation to the Dance, along with his two Symphonies and the Bassoon Concerto. It’s a fair lot.

Mena begins with the Invitation to the Dance, perhaps to remind listeners of just where in the history of music Weber belongs. It is something folks would be most sure to recognize, as opposed to the other works on the disc. Weber originally composed the Invitation to the Dance for solo piano in 1819, and here we find it in the form we know it by most familiarly today, the orchestration Hector Berlioz made of it 1841 for ballet purposes. Mena begins the piece at a sweet, leisurely pace and then moves briskly into the main theme. The whole affair under Mena assumes a light, pleasant mood, punctuated by intervals of appropriate commotion. Weber composed the waltz for his wife, so you would expect an affectionate performance, which is what Mena gives us, along with a dance-like ballet feeling, which it later became.

Weber wrote his two symphonies when he was only twenty years old, publishing them shortly after Beethoven premiered his Eroica Symphony. Needless to say, Weber’s early work paled by comparison and sort of faded into obscurity. Still, the two pieces have a few interesting features, and Mena infuses the episodic score with a Rossini-like flair. Both symphonies are quite dramatic and betray a youthful desire to cover all things at once. So expect a lot of impetuous zeal in the music, which, again, Mena is happy to exploit. Like his First Symphony, Weber’s Second contains a little of everything; look for elements of opera, symphony, and ballet in here. It’s sort of fun, actually, if notably forgettable.

Unlike the two symphonies that flank it on both sides of the program, the Concerto for Bassoon and Orchestra involves some serious atmosphere, color, and flavor. Mena takes a no-nonsense approach to it, and it comes off as a mellow yet fairly cheerful work. Soloist Karen Geoghegan’s playing is lyrical, melancholy, dynamic, exhilarating, and playful as the opportunities arise. The Concerto is a highlight of the album.

Chandos made this 24-bit/96 kHz recording in 2012 at MediaCity UK, Salford, England. The sound is just transparent enough to provide some excellent detailing, even if it doesn’t quite reach audiophile standards because it’s a tad lean and forward. The sound always remains well spread out between the two front speakers, with a precise placement of instruments that doesn’t appear too compartmentalized. Ralph Couzens produced the disc, and he’s always pretty particular about making good, natural-sounding recordings. There is also a pleasing sense of air and space around the instruments, a mild concert-hall resonance, and a modest degree of depth involved.

To hear a brief excerpt from this album, click here:


JJP

Weber: Clarinet Concertos (CD review)

Clarinet Concertos Nos. 1 and 2; Concertino for Clarinet and Orchestra; Concertino for Horn and Orchestra. Michael Collins, clarinet and conductor; Stephen Stirling, horn; City of London Sinfonia. Chandos CHAN 10702.

Although the big draws here are the two clarinet concertos, British clarinetist Michael Collins begins the program with the little Concertino for Clarinet and Orchestra, Op. 26, J 109, which German pianist, conductor, and composer Carl Maria von Weber (1786-1826) wrote in 1811. It's a brief but varied piece of music, starting out rather darkly and then opening up to an agreeably light and lyrical set of melodies. Collins has a good time with its differing moods and gets a chance to demonstrate his virtuosity early on. The piece makes a nice curtain raiser.

Next, we get Weber's Concerto No. 1 for Clarinet and Orchestra, Op. 73, J 114, also from 1811. Of the two clarinet concertos Weber wrote that year, this one is the more dramatic (or melodramatic, depending on your point of view). Collins in a booklet note calls it "operatic." Whatever the case, it is decidedly heavy, at least until the clarinet enters and lifts one's spirits. Collins provides a sparkling touch, his clarinet sounding both rich and refined, the City of London Sinfonia lending a splendidly intimate, small-scale support. The second-movement Adagio is especially lovely, and the finale bubbles over with a zippy enthusiasm.

After that, we get a change-up: the Concertino for Horn and Orchestra, Op. 45, J 188, with Stephen Stirling, horn. Weber was only nineteen when he wrote it, a remarkable accomplishment, even if he did revise it extensively about nine years later. Stirling offers meltingly mellifluent sounds and an equally honeyed interpretation through the four-movement piece.

The program ends with what is surely one of Weber's most-popular works, the Concerto No. 2 for Clarinet and Orchestra, Op. 74, J 118. Like most of the world, I love this music, so it's hard for any clarinetist to go wrong. Collins doesn't disappoint. In fact, he is quite dazzling from the moment he enters. A tone of mystery and grief pervades the second-movement Andante, to which Collins adds a note of melancholy. Then the whole show closes in a sparkling display of pyrotechnic fireworks from Weber, Collins, and the orchestra. It's all scintillating and delightful, and while I may have other favorite recordings of both concertos, this new one from Collins and company must stand serious consideration.

Chandos recorded the album at St. Jude-on-the-Hill, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London, in April of 2011. They obtained a big, well-integrated sound, the clarinet never too close or too distant, with the orchestra realistically spread out behind. The sonics are smooth and slightly warm, making for easy, comfortable listening, if not always allowing for ultimate transparency or dynamic contrasts. There is good stage depth, too, and a pleasantly resonant air further contributing to the illusion of hearing the music in a mildly reverberant concert hall.

JJP