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.

Weinberg: Complete Music for Cello and Orchestra (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Nikolay Shugaev, cellist; Yuri Medianik, conductor; Tyumen Philharmonic Orchestra. Naxos 8.574679

Now this is what I’m talking about! When Mieczysław Weinberg was at his best, as with each of the three works on this recording, his music is a pleasure to listen to. It’s not that he was the most original composer who ever lived, and certainly not one of the greatest. Yes, yes: Shostakovich haunts these proceedings to varying degrees. But never mind all of that; Weinberg had enough moxie of his own to provide a thoroughly satisfying, even memorable listening experience when he wanted to. Usually this happened more toward the beginning of his career, before he adopted an austere style poorly suited to his gifts. As I suggested in my last Weinberg CD review, when he was direct, the results could be wonderful. And here we have three slices of wonderful directness.

 

At first glance this disc would seem to be something of a rip-off. The Concertino for Cello and String Orchestra is actually an early version of the bigger Concerto for Cello and Orchestra. But these two works, while clearly sharing much material, are yet different enough from one another that they can be considered separate compositions. In fact, I find listening to and comparing them to be an enjoyable venture. To be honest I very much like both and am not sure I actually prefer the more developed concerto. It’s almost twice as long, due to more “worked out” passages that share ideas with its predecessor mostly across roughly the first three movements of each. But the concertino (note its ensemble scoring for strings rather than full orchestra), while a slighter score, is also somehow cozier and more intimate. I think it’s that the concerto adds almost an entire whole movement’s worth of material toward the end that wasn’t there before. This finale, while ending on a calmer profile (as in the concertino), begins with what is essentially another quick section after the scherzo-like material in each version. While I find the added section’s themes compelling, it might be a little too much of a good thing after the preceding bars – gilding the lily, as it were. But then again maybe not. I’ve heard enough tedious Weinberg not to be too ungrateful when he’s consistently good across a single work, not to mention two iterations of the same one. They are enjoyable all the way through, and full of wit and affecting beauty.

The remaining piece is the Fantasia for Cello and Orchestra, completed in 1953. Cast in one movement, it clocks in at just under the length of the concertino. And it is very nearly as eventful. Things start off with one of Weinberg’s signature slow, moody themes that’s just a bit quirky. Before it wears out it's welcome we come to a jaunty, rondo-like section that is great fun and also oddly touching. There’s a cadenza toward the end, near where the first theme returns. The latter then appears in tandem with a new theme in a coda-like passage. Like the other works here, the Fantasia ends quietly. I had not heard it before listening to this recording, and was unexpectedly captivated all the way through.

 

Yuri Medianik, Nikolay Shugaev, and the Tyumen Philharmonic make a great case for this repertoire. Their playing is sharp and energetic, even in the calmer stretches. This is music of emotional intensity, and everyone rises to the occasion admirably. The recording’s sound also deserves mention: everything is especially crisp and clear. I doubt whether Weinberg’s cello-and-orchestra music needed this level of excellence merely in order to make a positive impression, but it certainly doesn’t hurt. If you’re new to the composer and want somewhere to start, here is a very good place.

Weinberg String Quartets Nos. 3, 9, and 14 (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

String Quartet No. 3 in D Minor, Op. 14; Improvisation and Romance for String Quartet; String Quartet No. 9 in F-Sharp Minor, Op. 80; String Quartet No. 14, Op. 122. Arcadia Quartet. Chandos CHAN 20328

 

I have long considered Mieczyslaw Weinberg to be a hit-and-miss composer. But I must say: the more of his music I get to know, the more the misses outpace the hits. Now, not everything I would call a “miss” is necessarily bad; some stuff is even mildly engaging while I listen to it. But little attains much memorability. Most releases in this Chandos string quartet series tell the tale in microcosm: an arresting movement here and there (or an entire work if you’re lucky) alongside vast stretches of miss. The Fifth Volume comes in a bit below this average: lots of okay (or worse) surrounding small islands of special.

We’ll start with what I consider to be the most compelling item: the Improvisation and Romance for String Quartet. David Fanning’s liner notes explain that this work is in a “comprehensible,” “anti-formalist” style favored by Soviet authorities during the Stalin era. I’ll be honest: I abhor the Soviet government’s censorship methods, but I like it when Weinberg composed in this style, to which his Third Symphony (an absolutely wonderful piece) also belongs. When his tendency toward doodling took a back seat to directness, he was at his best. And so it goes in this pair of miniatures. The Improvisation is the less memorable of the two but still pleasant and easy to follow. However, the Romance is the gem of the whole disc – sporting a beautifully wistful melody that shows what Weinberg could do when he felt like it.

 

Sometimes Weinberg successfully balanced being clever with being direct, as he did in the Fourth and Sixth Quartets. The Third Quartet of 1944 is very much in this vein, if somewhat less inspired. It begins with one of his signature “driving-rhythm” movements, this being one with clear thematic ideas and a satisfying formal trajectory. The second movement is about the same length, similarly well crafted, and full of feeling. The trouble here is that for all the sincerity of expression, there is not a truly memorable moment to take with you after the music stops playing. The third movement almost solves this problem with its mysterious opening theme, but the rest never lives up to that initial promise. And the theme itself kind of fizzles by the end. It’s all respectable, but you’re left wanting more.

With the Ninth Quartet of 1963 we get closer to Weinberg’s late style, of which I am mostly not a fan. But while this work still doesn’t descend quite to the dreariness of the last quartets, it’s hardly distinguished. We have another driving opening movement with quick repeated motives and decent drama. The delicate scherzo that follows is likewise a solid listening experience with some simple ideas that shine through the gloom. Next is a 10-minute Andante – a finely-wrought slow movement that I struggle to describe in further useful terms. A rather nondescript Allegro moderato closes things out. Truthfully, I am listening to the music as I write this paragraph because I have trouble remembering much when it’s not directly in my ears. It more or less holds the attention. But beyond that? There’s nothing here I’m champing at the bit to revisit soon.

I don’t actually have much to say about the Fourteenth Quartet that I haven’t already said about the Thirteenth, Fifteenth, and Sixteenth Quartets in other reviews here. Think second-rate late Shostakovich. If that sounds like your idea of a good time, dive right in. Anyone else who reads this should carefully consider how they want to spend its 25 or so minutes.

Maybe I’m complaining too much. To be sure, I’d gladly take every work on this disc (Fourteenth Quartet included) over anything by Weinberg’s younger contemporaries Schnittke and Gubaidulina. So I guess my definition of “miss” is highly variable after all. And my mild displeasure (as it turns out) has absolutely nothing to do with the excellent performances given here by the Arcadia Quartet. The liner notes make clear that its members really believe in this music. Well, I’m glad for them. If you’re going to perform and record something, you might as well do so with conviction. I’m just not sure that those of us who aren’t Weinberg-o-holics will be able to muster comparable enthusiasm.

Weinberg String Quartets, Volume 4 (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

String Quartet No. 6 in E Minor, Op. 35; String Quartet No. 13, Op. 118; String Quartet No. 15, Op. 124. Arcadia Quartet. Chandos CHAN 20281

It’s been over a year since I reviewed the previous installment of this series. On that occasion I suggested something of a dichotomy in Weinberg’s music between works that show an appealing personality, and works lacking it. The quartets on this recording only deepen the impression, with a further divide between early and later styles becoming all the more apparent. They include the Sixth, Thirteenth, and Fifteenth Quartets, which means you’re going to get one fairly tuneful work and two mostly forgettable stretches of dull noodling. I wish he had stuck with his romantic, folk-affiliated phase. 

The Sixth Quartet (1946) is the last that Weinberg completed for approximately a decade. It comprises the same number of movements as its designation, and is the first in the cycle to stretch to as many. I mention this because it curiously foreshadows the Fifteenth Quartet in that its second and third movements are extremely short, spanning just 2-3 minutes each. These quick, punchy movements briefly explore a scherzo-like aesthetic, but we will see with the Fifteenth that nearly every one of its nine movements do so. The lengthier first movement of No. 6 strongly reminds me of Shostakovich, with its mysterious dance-like theme and everything that follows. The same could be said for its fifth and sixth movements, which delve into fugal textures. The finale is ripped straight from DDS, especially its tunes and dramatic accompaniments. I would say that there is less in the Sixth Quartet of what makes Weinberg special than there is in the Fourth. And you know what? That’s fine… because the music is engaging, melodious, and speaks directly to the emotions. 

Your mileage may vary, but I am mostly bored by the Thirteenth (1977) and Fifteenth (1979) Quartets which, truthfully, are the products of a dispiriting decade. The Thirteenth is in one continuous movement that lasts for approximately 15 minutes. You hear the same things here as you do in much other late Weinberg: dour themes of angular profile, dissonant harmonies interspersed with occasional triadic relief, and meandering forms. None of this music is terribly arresting. At least with the Fifteenth Quartet we have short enough movements that uninteresting (or sometimes vaguely interesting) materials do not wear out their welcome. A variety of character states in each movement (yes, a poor variety…but a variety nonetheless) aids listener concentration better than in the Thirteenth. The Shostakovich influence is keen in the Fifteenth Quartet. But as in the Sixteenth, I find the music to be a pale reflection of the mannerisms it borrows from the great Soviet composer’s own late style. 

Not every reader will like this, but as I get older I get increasingly impatient with music I consider to be stuffy. And I find two-thirds of this recording’s compositions to be stuffy, notwithstanding more excellent playing by the Arcadia Quartet. Again, I can handle Shostakovich imitation if the results are engaging. But Shostakovich imitation in combination with unrelenting dreariness quickly diminishes my reasons to stick around any longer than I must. I’ve gradually shaped up to be an Early Weinberg Fan. If this makes me anti-intellectual or anti-modernist, I can live with that.

Weinberg String Quartets (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Weinberg: String Quartet No. 4 in E-Flat Major, Op. 20; String Quartet No. 16 in A-Flat Minor, Op. 130. Arcadia Quartet. Chandos CHAN 20180

 

I admit it: I don’t know what to make of Mieczysław Weinberg’s music on the whole. And the more I listen to it, the more my bemusement deepens. Often I’ll be strongly reminded of Shostakovich, with more than a few works striking me as interesting, competent, and yet ultimately inferior to the more famous composer’s finest. But sometimes I’m completely won over by what I hear. When this happens, any Shostakovich influence that may be present recedes to irrelevance. Maybe Weinberg had more individuality than I give him credit for, maybe his inspiration was of an intermittent kind (his inconsistency can run from movement to movement, and not just work to work), or maybe there’s some other “IT” factor at play. I can’t tell. In any case, I remain willing to listen to more nice but scarcely memorable music by him in search of the occasional stretch to which I’ll eagerly keep returning. (I still play the first movement of his Third Symphony on repeat, years after my first hearing.) 

            

The third volume of Weinberg string quartets by the Arcadia Quartet on Chandos encapsulates my dilemma. It features his Fourth Quartet (1945) and his Sixteenth Quartet (1981). The Fourth Quartet is an absolutely stunning piece of music; it’s a new favorite that for me holds its own in any (yes, any) company from a crowded literature. The first movement is of a somewhat pastoral character, with a gently lilting theme and scalar figure that give it a bittersweet flavor. A punchy, flavorful scherzo follows. David Fanning’s terrific liner notes rightly identify Prokofiev, and not just Shostakovich, as an influence here. But there’s definitely an added “something” that provides a special kick, perhaps helped by extended string techniques contributing to a feeling of artful garishness. Something like a dirge occupies the slow movement slot, beginning with an earworm main theme that recurs in different contexts throughout. But perhaps the most powerfully emotional juncture is the rondo-ish finale. It opens with a portentous figure featuring chords in the bass and rising arpeggios in the treble. Such a description cannot do justice to how affecting I find this idea. Other descriptions of the Fourth Quartet identify its childlike qualities, and nowhere would I agree more than here. As a child might, I didn’t know whether to be allured or disturbed. I’m going to use an overly-used label and call this entire, thoroughly consistent work a masterpiece. 

            

From the get-go, we hear that the Sixteenth Quartet is a rather more austere work. An expertly crafted opening proceeds from a forceful theme on the first violin that gets taken up in the other instruments. The next movement seems to be a kind of scherzo, the outer sections of which make use of a rapid and dissonant motive that also gets passed from instrument to instrument. (This movement reminds me a bit of the conclusion to Britten’s Second Quartet.) The inner section here features an angular, mournful melody over shifting chords. While the whole work smells of late Shostakovich, the slow movement in particular sounds like it could have been taken from an undiscovered quartet by DSCH. It has craft, even feeling, but to my ears lacks both strong thematic interest and character of its own. The dance-like rondo finale comes across very similarly: it not so much stands on the shoulders of a giant as it is carried by them. I was rooting for this Sixteenth Quartet to be at least as compelling as the Fourth, especially given the former’s dedication to the composer’s sister, a victim of World War II. It’s certainly well composed and interesting. But I am going to have to place this work in the “scarcely memorable” category. When I want Swan Song Shostakovich, I’ll go for the real McCoy. Still, the Arcadia Quartet provides fervent advocacy, not to mention a special message from the performers to that effect in the liner notes. Other listeners’ mileage may vary from mine. I hope that it does. 

This pairing of the Fourth and Sixteenth Quartets directly competes with performances by the Quatuor Daniel (CPO 777313-2). Having heard both recordings, as well as the same works done by the Silesian Quartet on the Accord label (ACD 291 and ACD 284), I recommend this Chandos recording on account of its sound quality and the Arcadia Quartet’s expressivity. But Weinberg enthusiasts are now fortunate to have several good options. Will they ever have more, including in the concert hall? I look forward to seeing whether and when this quartet cycle ever achieves a status that the best music in it deserves. Maybe by then I’ll have changed my mind about some of the rest of the cycle.

Weinberg: Symphonies Nos. 3 & 7; Flute Concerto No. 1 (CD Review)

By Karl Nehring

Symphonies Nos. 3 & 7; Flute Concerto No. 1. Kirill Gerstein, harpsichord; Marie-Christine Zupancic, flute; Mirga Gražinytè-Tyla, City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, The Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Berlin (Symphony No. 7). Deutsche Grammophon DG 486 2402 (CD review)

 

Long-time followers of Classical Candor might possibly recall our previous encounter with symphonies penned by the composer Mieczyslaw Weinberg (1919-1996), a Polish Jew who fled Warsaw in 1939 and in the 1940s found himself living in Moscow and becoming friends with Shostakovich (see review here). Like Shostakovich, Weinberg and his music became targets of Stalin’s ire. Of the Symphony No. 3 included on this release, for example, the liner notes relate that “it appears from the manuscript score that the original version of the Third Symphony was submitted to the censor and accepted for performance and publication. And yet it seems that critical voices in the Union of Soviet Composers protested against its release since Weinberg declared after a run-through that the work contained “errors” that required his attention. The implication is that the symphony had been heavily criticized. But it was only much later that Weinberg made these alterations. It required the changed political climate of the Kruschev Thaw for Weinberg to resume work on his Third Symphony and finally to complete it in 1959.” 

 

We shall return to Symphony No. 3 below, but first let us consider Symphony No. 7 (1964), for that is the work with which the disc opens. The work is specified as being for string orchestra and harpsichord; unusually enough, the opening measures are played by then harpsichord alone. It is in five movements, which alternate between slow and more sprightly in tempo. Although the mood is never quite tragic, neither is it what most listeners would find to be happy or optimistic. Instead, the music sounds guarded, nervous, perhaps even frightened at times. Despite that – or possibly because of it – it is captivating, drawing the listener in. The sound of the harpsichord provides moments of musical punctuation and seasoning. The overall impression is of a large work for small forces.

 

Sandwiched between the two symphonies is the Flute Concerto No. 1. Composed in 1961, it icast in the traditional three movements, fast-slow-fast. The opening movement, marked Allegro molto, gallops right along, sounding like something Shostakovich could have written. That is not meant as a putdown, but as praise; the movement has an infectious, almost nervous energy that demands attention. The following Largo movement slows things down, but does not really calm things down. There is a nervous undercurrent lurking beneath the calm surface that breaks through in the third movement, marked Allegro commodo, which whirls and swirls with nervous energy.

 

Closing this generously filled disc is Symphony No. 3, which is scored for large orchestra. Hearing it now, even in its revised version, listeners can still get an inkling of why the original version may have rankled the Soviet thought police back in the 1940s. It’s a big, bold work, opening with some compelling sounds from woodwinds in the opening, to be joined later by the brass as the music grows more and more agitated. My guess is that the original version had more agitation, perhaps abetted by some dissonance here and there that was smoothed out in Weinberg’s revision of the score. Of special note is the third movement, marked Adagio, which is searchingly, sorrowfully sublime. You can feel Weinberg’s soul striving for something it knows it cannot quite reach, yet the quest must continue, even with head bowed. It is a magnificent nine minutes of music. The finale, as you might expect, is energetic – Allegro vivace – but as with the finale of the Shostakovich Fifth, there is some ambiguity as to whether the ending should be understood as signifying triumph or something more troubling. In the final few bars, the Lithuanian conductor Mirga Gražinytè-Tyla (b. 1986) seems to hold back just enough to suggest that in the case of this symphony by Weinberg, she leans toward the latter interpretation. It is a convincing performance of a remarkable symphony, a work that surely deserves wider exposure.

 

Captured in convincing stereo sound quality, this program builds from the quiet notes of a harpsichord at the opening to the full blast of a large orchestra in the final minutes. The soloists, conductor, and musicians of both orchestras all combine to present the music of this still largely overlooked composer in the best possible light. Let’s hope that there are more recordings of Weinberg symphonies forthcoming from these forces in the future.  

 

 

Recent Releases, No. 29 (CD Reviews)

By Karl W. Nehring

Bach | Sei Solo | Kavakos. Bach: Sonatas & Partitas for Solo Violin Nos. 1-3. Leonidas Kavakos, violin. Sony Classics 19439983132.

This is one of those recordings that is pretty much self-recommending. When you have one of the premier violin virtuosos of our time playing the timeless music of Johann Sebastian Bach, you expect excellence, and excellence is what this recording delivers. From his remarks on the back cover of the CD case, it is apparent that the Greek violinist Leonidas Kavakos (b. 1967) believes that there is a deeply spiritual dimension to this composition: “Harmony’s rhythm and rhythms’s harmony are decisive assistants in each incarnation’s personal journey towards achieving catharsis through the expression of life and thus opening the gate to theosis, the divine aspect of existence. Wir danken dir, Gott (We thank you, God) is the title of Bach’s Cantata No. 29, the opening Sinfonia of which is a transcription for organ and orchestra of the Preludio from Partita No. 3. It could equally well serve as the title or all six sonatas and partitas, an opus consisting of two triads which, through the peerless swirling of the great Thomascantor’s compositions, enlighten the individual responsibility of existence (“Sei Solo”), a vital component of collective space-time!” Kavakos plays with a nimble touch, never seeming to be trying to flaunt his virtuosity or add any heavy-handed dramatic exaggerations to the music. Everything just seems to flow naturally along from one phrase to the next; indeed, you find yourself admiring the music, not just marveling at the playing, which is as it should be. Perhaps in light of his comments as quoted above, Kavakos leads off not with Sonata No. 1, as you might expect, but rather with Partita No. 3, followed by Sonata No. 3. Sonata No. 2 then closes CD1; however, CD2 does not start with Partita No. 2, as you might expect, but rather with Sonata No. 1, followed by Partita No. 1, and then the program comes to a close with Partita No. 2. Apparently, Kavakos intended to underline his idea that the theme of the entire composition centers on the Preludio from Partita No. 3. As to the sonics, the violin is recorded a bit close, with sounds occasionally jumping from speaker to speaker, but to be fair, this is not an uncommon problem with two-channel stereo. Still, the sound is quite clean, there is some sense of the space in which the violin was recorded, and overall, I have no real complaints. Long-time Bach fans may already own several favorite recordings of this music; however, they still might want to give this new version a hearing. Those music lovers new to the piece would certainly find this Sony release an excellent introduction to this magical music, for Kavakos’s version is without eccentricity and is a more than worthy addition to the Bach catalog.

Beethoven for Three. Beethoven: Symphony No 2 in D major, op. 36 (arrangement for piano trio attributed to Ferdinand Ries, under the supervision of the composer); Symphony No. 5 in C minor, op. 67 (arrangement for piano trio by Colin Matthews). Emanuel Ax, piano; Leonidas Kavakos, violin; Yo-Yo Ma, cello. Sony Classical 19439940142.

Yes, you read that correctly. What we have here are two Beethoven symphonies arranged for piano trio and performed by an all-star lineup of Ax, Kavakos, and Ma. I feel obliged to point out at the outset that I find it disappointing – pretty much inexcusable, really – that Sony did not go to the bother to provide any sort of liner notes that might have provided some insights about the motivation for these arrangements, about the arrangers, how these performers came together to do this, why it was recorded at Tanglewood, etc. Alas, there are no real liner notes, just a brief note dedicating the release to conductor Michael Tilson Thomas, which in light of his recent public disclosure of his struggle with brain cancer is certainly a kind gesture. But my goodness, it certainly would have been nice to have some more background information. For what it’s worth, Ferdinand Ries, given credit for this arrangement of the Symphony No. 2, was one of Beethoven’s students, while Colin Matthews (b.1946), who arranged the Symphony No. 5,  is a contemporary English composer. Although each listener will of course have his or her own personal reactions to and opinions about hearing these symphonies performed as piano trios, I believe that my general observations about this recording would strike a resonant chord with the majority of music lovers who might venture to give it a listen. First of all, it is well worth an audition. This is great music played by great musicians. It is well played and well recorded. Reducing symphonies to trios was one practiced so that people could hear the music in their homes or other small settings. Today, we have stereos, headphones, earbuds, etc. But hey, we can now listen to recordings of a Beetthoven symphony played by a large orchestra on modern instruments, a small orchestra on period instruments, or a piano trio. What goes around comes around. But for many of us today, hearing the Symphony No. 2 played by Ax, Kavakos, and Ma will strike us as though we are hearing a pleasant piano trio in the style of Beethoven. Some nice melody, some good drama, excellent chamber music that makes us glad that we decided to listen to this recording. But when we suddenly hear then opening notes of the Symphony No. 5 played by these same three musicians, we suddenly find ourselves jolted into wondering what in the heck is going on – why is there a piano? Where is the rest of the orchestra? It takes a while to adjust to the fact that this is music with which we are so familiar being played in such an unfamiliar way. I’ve now listened many times, and am still not quite fully adjusted. Their performance of Symphony No. 2 still strikes me as a really pleasant piano trio (and I do like the symphony itself, especially as conducted by Jordi Savall), but although I am not quite as jolted by the opening of Symphony No. 5 as I was the first several times I heard them play it, I still can’t quite simply relax and enjoy their pr[performance simply as chamber music. Still, though, I find this an intriguing release that I do not hesitate to recommend to Beethoven fans, although I do want to close with  parting shot at Sony Classical for their pathetically uninformative (nonexistent) liner notes. They can and should do better.

Weinberg: Sonatas for Violin Solo. Gidon Kremer, violin. ECM New Series 2705. 

Mieczysław Weinberg (1919-1996) was a Jewish composer from Poland who resided in the USSR and became a close musical associate of Shostakovich. A bit more about the composer can be found in a previous review of his music, which can be found here: https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2020/10/weinberg-clarinet-music-cd-review.html. Unlike the music on that Naxos disc, however, the music on this ECM New Series release is not as immediately appealing to the ear. Unlike the 19th-century violin music of Beethoven, this is 20th-century music that does not have a primary aim of delighting  listeners with memorable melodies. This is more complex music, more challenging music, as listening to the first few bars of the Sonata No. 3 that opens the disc will quickly make evident. However, as you listen more closely, you can hear that a lot of thought went into the composition of this sonata, which is quite expressive, Weinberg dedicated to the memory of his father, himself a violinist, who was killed in a Nazi concentration camp. Although there are some moments of great lyrical tenderness, there are also passages of almost savage fury and occasional dissonance. The sonata is in one movement, clocking in at more than 22 minutes. No, it is not a piece for the faint of heart, but for those who appreciate the expressive power of the violin, to hear Gidon Kremer put his all into this remarkable work will be a truly rewarding experience. For whatever reason, the program is presented in reverse chronological order,  so next up is Sonata No. 2, which stands in contrast to Sonata No. 3 by comprising seven brief movements rather than a single long one. The liner note offers this concise description: “With ts reduced sonority and quasi-independent movements (headed ‘Monody,’ ‘Rests,’ ‘Intervals,’ Replicas,’ ‘Accompaniment,’ ‘Invocation,’ and ‘Syncopations), it almost seems like a set of late-romantic character pieces coarsened by modern modes of execution, but also imbued with a distinct sense of resignation.” Once again, Kremer displays both his technical skill and his artistic touch as he brings out the varying moods portrayed in these brief musical sketches, some of which last under two minutes. Sonata No. 1, which closes the CD, is the closest of the three to traditional violin sonata form, consisting of five movements: I. Adagio – Allegro, II Andante, III. Allegretto, IV. Lento, V. Presto. The outer movements are the most virtuosic, with Kremer providing some really dazzling playing, while the second movement shows great tenderness and the third, a playful spirit. I’m hard-pressed to come up with the right adjective for the fourth movement; I guess I’ll just write that it is intense and leave it at that. As for the sound quality, there is a good amount of reverb, as we have come to expect from ECM, but not so much as to be a distraction. Although this may not be music that will appeal to a wide audience, for those with a serious interest in 20th-century violin music, this is certainly a milestone release.

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 7. Gianandrea Noseda, London Symphony Orchestra. LSO Live LSO0859.

This new SACD release on the LSO Live label (note, however, that I auditioned the CD layer for this review) is the latest in an ongoing Shostakovich cycle from Italian conductor Gianandrea Noseda (b. 1964) and the London Symphony Orchestra. We reviewed an earlier release in this series here: https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2021/08/recent-releases-no-15-cd-reviews.html. Most music lovers are probably familiar with the story of the Symphony No. 7, popularly known as the “Leningrad,” written by the young composer as the city was under siege by Russian and Finnish forces in WWII, a copy of the completed score smuggled out of Russia that made its way to New York, where it was played by the NY Philharmonic under Toscanini in 1942 in a broadcast performance and even played in Leningrad itself while the city was still under siege. For a time, the work was quite the rage, but is not so well-regarded today. Still, it is a powerful piece of music, as this new recording amply demonstrates. Both the recording quality and the performance itself come across as committed and straightforward, without unnecessary embellishment or exaggeration. This is probably as fine a one-disc account of this work as you are likely to encounter. My personal favorite version remains the Bernstein/Chicago on DG (also a live recording), which is coupled with an unusually slow version of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 1; however, this Noseda 7th is truly excellent and I can recommend it without reservation.

KWN

Recent Releases, No. 8 (CD Mini-reviews)

By Karl W. Nehriing

Concertos for Mallet Instruments. Alexis Alrich: Marimba Concerto; Karl Jenkins: La Folia; Ned Rorem: Mallet Concerto. Evelyn Glennie, percussion; Jean Thorel, City Chamber Orchestra of Hong Kong. NAXOS 8.574218.

Although this recording was only recently released, it was recorded back in 2013. I have no idea why it took so long to get released, but I am certainly glad that it did, for it is a delight. I would think that by now, most classical music lovers are familiar with the featured soloist. As the liner notes boldly assert, “Dame Evelyn Glennie is the first person in musical history to successfully create and sustain a career as a full-time solo percussionist. As an eclectic and innovative musician and composer, she is constantly redefining the goals and expectations of percussion.” Her influence can be seen here, as she gave the world premiere of the Alexis Aldrich (b. 1955) Marimba Concerto (as explained in a brief overview of the work by the composer herself), an energetic, extroverted work in three movements that is quite entertaining. She was the dedicatee of La Folia by Karl Jenkins (b. 1944), a more stately dance-rooted composition for  marimba and strings that builds in energy as it moves along. The final piece on the program, the Mallet Concerto by Ned Rorem (b. 1923), features Ms. Glennie on vibraphone and xylophone in addition to marimba. It is quite a colorful work with an ending movement titled “An Ending” that is aptly named for reasons beyond the obvious.

David Gompper: Cello Concerto; Double Bass Concerto; Moonburst. Timothy Gill, cello; Volkan Orhon, double bass; Emmanuel Siffert, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. NAXOS 8.559855.

Reading the booklet notes included in this release made me pause for a few moments to reflect on the truly international nature of today’s classical music landscape. American composer David Gompper (b. 1954) studied music in London, taught music in Nigeria, received his doctorate at the University of Michigan, taught for a year at the Moscow Conservatory as a Fulbright Scholar, and now serves as a professor at the University of Iowa, while Emmanuel Siffert is a Swiss conductor leading a British orchestra. The program includes three recent Gompper compositions, leading off with his two-movement Cello Concerto (2019), the first moment of which is intense - and nervous sounding, with some vigorous playing by Gill. The second movement is much different in mood, unsettled and skittish, seemingly directed more inward than the more extroverted first movement. Not a lyrical piece, but not without some appeal, at least for those with an interest in contemporary music. The concluding Double Bass Concerto (2018) is less successful, at least to these ears. Orhon is clearly a master of his instrument, but he seems to be fighting against chaos. Perhaps that was what Gompper intended, but it does not make for an appealing musical experience. The final piece on this CD, Moonburst (2018), is more successful, evoking as it does a sense of darkness and apprehension. At times, the sound seemed to more than a hint of an edge in the upper midrange; as it turned out, a quick check of the back cover credits revealed an engineering team whose names I did not recognize. I shall be wary should I encounter them again.  

Occurrence: Daniel Bjarnason: Violin Concerto; Veronique Vaka: Lendh; Haukur Tómasson: in Seventh Heaven; Puriòur Jónsdóttir: Flutter; Magnús Blöndal Jóhansson: Adagio. Sono Luminus DSL-92243. Pekka Kuusisto, violin; Mario Caroli, flute; Daniel Bjarnason, Iceland Symphony Orchestra. SONO Luminus DSL-92243.

This is not just a mini-review, it is a mixed review, for I believe that I would not stand alone in finding the five compositions on this release to be quite a mixed bag in terms of their appeal, even as I respectfully acknowledge that your musical tastes may – and most likely are – different from mine. As Sly & The Family Stone sang, “different strokes for different folks.” In any event, Occurrence is the third in a series of recordings on the SONO Luminus label by the Iceland Symphony Orchestra that have been dedicated to highlighting the work of contemporary Icelandic composers, the first two being Recurrence and Concurrence (no, I have no idea why Occurrence was not the first title in the series, and I hope I am not turning into too much of an old pedant).

Of the five compositions on the disc (actually, discs – the library version I am reviewing incudes not only a standard CD but also a Blu-ray surround sound audio disc), I find two quite appealing, one amazingly appealing, one difficult and thorny but not without some appeal, and one that I have tried several times to “get” but find utterly unappealing. Unfortunately, the three appealing compositions are the short ones on the disc, combining for less than half the total 70:42 playing time. Leading off the program is composer/conductor Daniel Bjarnason’s Violin Concerto (23:41), an intense, tightly wound piece that is not immediately appealing but after several listens I came to at least respect for its concentrated energy. Next is Veronique Vaka’s  Lendh (11:36), a tone poem of great energy, its bass notes evoking the elemental geological forces underlying the fantastic Icelandic landscape and giving your woofers some cardio. Haukur Tómasson’s in Seventh Heaven (7:13) evokes a different realm, the sounds seeming to play and shimmer, continually changing while holding our attention. Next comes Puriòur Jónsdóttir’s Flutter (20:49), a concerto for flute that try as I might, I never could come to embrace. I will say this much for it, it contains some truly interesting sounds. Perhaps others will like it better than I; it is surely an interesting composition.

The program concludes with Magnús Blöndal Jóhansson’s Adagio (7:19), which brings about a complete change of mood. It is reflective, elegiac, and emotionally resonant. As this is such an amazingly appealing piece, please allow me a few more sentences (thus stretching the concept of “mini-review” until it snaps, thus sayeth the pedant). According to the liner notes, Jóhansson (1925-2005) was one of the first modernists of Icelandic music, composing in 1950 the first Icelandic 12-tone work. “By the 1970s, Jóhansson’s career was in decline. After the death of his wife , he fought a long and demeaning battle with alcoholism and composed nothing between 1972 and 1980. He returned with the stunningly simple Adagio for strings, celeste, and percussion in 1980.” Stunningly simple, but also stunningly beautiful. The engineering (I will admit to getting a kick out of seeing that it was mixed and mastered using Legacy Audio speakers – see my brief bio below) is excellent, as are the liner notes. Recommended to those with a curiosity about or appreciation for contemporary music.

Reich: Music for Two or More Pianos; Eight Lines (for ensemble); Vermont Counterpoint (for flutes and tape); New York Counterpoint (for clarinets and tape); City Life (for ensemble). Jörg Schweinbenz, piano; Anne Parisot, Delphine Roche, flutes; Andrea Nagy, clarinets; Klaus Simon, piano, conductor, Holst-Sinfonietta. NAXOS 8.559682.

American composer Steve Reich (b. 1936) is classified as a “minimalist” composer. His best-known composition, Music for 18 Musicians, is probably the best-known of the minimalist genre, and if you have never heard it, I would strongly advise seeking it out. There are several recordings to choose from; from among them, I would suggest you start with the one on ECM, which was originally released as an LP (now available on CD and streaming formats) in 1978 and caused quite a ripple of excitement. This generously filled (73:24) new release from Naxos includes compositions from a wide swath of Reich’s career, from Music for Two or More Pianos from 1964 to City Life from 1995. All of the selections are clearly minimalist in that they employ simple chord structures, rhythmic patterns that revolve around a discernible driving pulse, and an abundance of energy. The earliest piece, for pianos, is the most abstract-sounding, but after something of a slow start, it picks up energy as it as it moves along. Reich’s compositions and these spirited performers project an undeniable feeling of life-affirming joy, a sense of sheer exuberance, and an expression of gratitude for the ability to create, perform, and enjoy the sounds of music and integrate them with the with the rhythms of life. This is a disc well worth an audition even if you have listened to a Philip Glass recording or two in the past and concluded that minimalism was not for you…

Respighi: Concerto all’antica; Ancient Airs and Dances for Lute. Davide Alogna, violin; Salvatore di Vittorio, Chamber Orchestra of New York. NAXOS 8.573901.

This recording incudes both the unfamiliar and the familiar. In fact, the Concerto all’antica, originally composed way back in 1908, receives here its world premiere recording; by way of contrast, except for the Roman trilogy (Pines, Fountains, and Festivals), the Ancient Airs and Dances are probably Respighi’s most oft-recorded compositions. According to the liner notes, “the concerto was first referred to as a “Concerto in an Ancient Style by an anonymous composer, revised and orchestrated by Ottorino Respighi, [and] was probably performed in its reduction for violin and piano. Of course, the anonymous composer was Respighi himself and he admitted later that he composed the concerto as a joke for German critics.” As it turns out, the score languished for many decades, finally being published as Concerto all’antica in 1990, and being performed here in its first printed critical edition published in 2019 by conductor Salvatore Di Vittorio. At just over a half-hour in duration, it is a substantial composition, one that falls easily upon the ears and is quite enjoyable. Also quite enjoyable – but fans of Respighi already know this – are the Ancient Airs and Dances, which are presented here in quite enjoyable performances, bringing the total timing on this disc to more than 80 minutes. No skimping here! Although when I want to hear the Dances I would more likely pull out either the venerable Dorati recording on Mercury Living Presence or the López Cobos on Telarc, the inclusion of the charming Concerto all’antica on this new NAXOS release makes it well worth recommending to dedicated Respighi fans. (See also John’s review: https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/search?q=Respighi+Ancient)

Schnittke: Works for Violin and Piano. Includes Suite in the Old Style; Polka; Tango; Sonata for Violin and Piano No. 1; Madrigal in memoriam Oleg Kagan; Congratulatory Rondo; Silent Night. Daniel Hope, violin; Alexey Botvinov, piano. Deutsche Grammophon 483 9234.

In his liner note essay, violinist Daniel Hope tells how he first encountered and fell in love with the music of Russian composer Alfred Schnittke (1934-1998) back in 1989 when as a teenager he heard a fellow student play Schnittke’s Violin Sonata No. 1. As he recalls, “from the moment I heard it, I wanted more than anything to play this music. The violinist was playing from a hand-copied score, barely legible, and I remember approaching him after the concert and pleading with him to let me copy the parts. That evening began my ‘love affair’ with Alfred Schnittke’s music.” The now-mature Hope’s performance of the Sonata is the centerpiece of this collection, and it shows that his love has not dimmed over the years. From the lighter feeling of the various dance pieces to the searing intensity of the solo violin performance of the Madrigal in memoriam Oleg Kagan, Hope brings an expressive, communicative touch to this music that may well cause you to fall in love with it, too. Schnittke’s arrangement of Silent Night, which closes the program, is haunting, beautiful, and thought-provoking. Throughout the album, Hope is well supported by pianist Alexey Botvinov, who sadly enough becomes a forgotten figure in the otherwise splendid liner notes – no photo, no mention. If you enjoy violin music, this is a recording you really ought to audition, for it is a treasure. 

Weinberg: String Quartets, Vol. 1 Nos. 2, 5, and 6. Arcadia Quartet. Chandos CHAN 20158.

This will be more of a true mini-review, not at all as a reflection on the quality of the music; in fact, this Chandos release is so excellent that I want to cut right to the chase and point out just how excellent it is. Having favorably reviewed (here and here) some previous music by Weinberg (1919-1996) and having enjoyed other recordings of his music in the past, I looked forward to auditioning this new Chandos recording of some of his string quartets. For one thing, I knew that the Polish Weinberg and the Russian Shostakovich became close friends and shared musical ideas with one another, so as an ardent admirer of the l Shostakovich’s quartets I was especially eager to hear Weinberg’s. From the first few notes of Weinberg’s Quartet No. 2, I was sold. (I should point out that he wrote this before meeting Shostakovich; in fact, the liner notes speculate that he showed the music to the Shostakovich, who then used some of the ideas in his own Quartet No. 2). All three string quartets included in this release are impressive examples of the genre. They are on the serious side, at times brooding, but never mawkish or sentimental. When they sing, it is a serious song; when they reflect, it is deep reflection. Still, this is not forbidding music, nor standoffish music; rather, it is music that draws the listener in, both emotionally and intellectually. It is music that both encourages and rewards repeat listening. The sound quality is also warm and inviting, without edge up high or boom down low. Informative liner notes that include some engaging historical photos complete this highly recommendable package. I look forward to future volumes with eager anticipation.   

Bonus Recommendations:

The Musical Human: Michael Spitzer. Bloomsbury Publishing, ISBN 978-1-63557-624-5.

This is a big (400 pp.), ambitious book that might be a bit much for many classical music fans, but it offers a fascinating take on music and life that is well worth taking a look at. Spitzer divides the book into three parts; if nothing else, I would suggest that classical music lovers would do well to take a dive into Part One (Life), a manageable and focused 132 pages offering some keen insights into our current musical universe. On page 41, for example, we learn that “a preference for consonances gets locked in at age nine, while non-Western children develop a taste for (to our ears) irregular tunings and greater dissonance. A centrepiece of Western harmony is octave equivalence, as when children and adult men sing the same melody an octave apart (that is, singing eight notes up the scale brings you back to the same note, but an octave higher). Playing an octave slightly out of tune creates acoustic interference beats that sound hideous to Western ears, but quite palatable to people in Bali. In Bulgaria, it is common for choruses to sing in parallel minor seconds (a semitone apart): one culture’s noise is another culture’s spice.” In Part One, Spitzer goes on to discuss topics as the roles that music plays in our lives, the myth of the “musical genius,” the state of music education, the role of the conductor, and how music is akin to religion. And what of the rest of the book – Parts Two (History), with sections titled “Ice, Sand, Savannah and Forest,” “The Tuning of the West,” Superpowers,” and “Endgames,” and Three (Evolution), with sections titled “Animal,” Human,” “Machine,” and “Eleven Lessons on Music’s Nature?” I will leave you with this little teaser from near the end of Part One: “Music’s oceanic quality allies it with religion. Indeed a key strand of Parts 2 and 3 of this book is that music and religion sprang to life at the same time.” 

Finally, for another take on the universality of music, you might want to take a look at this recent article on the subject from Nautilus magazine.

KWN

Weinberg: Clarinet Music (CD Review)

Clarinet Concerto, Op. 104 (1970); Clarinet Sonata, Op. 28 (1945); Chamber Symphony No. 4, Op. 153 for clarinet, triangle, and string orchestra (1992). Robert Oberaigner, clarinet; Michael Schöch, piano; Michail Jurowski, Dresden Chamber Soloists. Naxos 8.574192.

By Karl W. Nehring

Polish-born Soviet composer Mieczysław Weinberg (1939-1996) was also known as Moisey or Moishe Vainberg, Moisey Samuilovich Vaynberg, and you will occasionally run across older recordings with one of the alternative names, although for more recent recordings, “Mieczysław Weinberg” is now the standard spelling. Weinberg fled Europe for the Soviet Union at the outbreak of World War II. There he met Shostakovich, with whom he became a close friend, and who urged him to move to Moscow in 1943. He eventually lived close to Shostakovich, and the two shared musical ideas. Thanks to recordings and concerts by musicians such as Gidon Kremer, his music is becoming more widely known internationally. If you have not yet auditioned any of Weinberg’s music, this new Naxos release would be a fine place to start.

The opening movement of the Clarinet Concerto, marked Allegro, opens whimsically as the clarinet plays in its lower register, soon to be joined by the strumming sounds of the lower strings, and then the upper strings join in. The playful mood dissipates at about the 3:30 point, when the music becomes brooding, quickly followed by a shift toward the dramatic. After a minute or so of that, the pace becomes more driven, bursting into a gallop before turning quieter and moodier, the tension building as the movement ends. The Andante that follows begins in the strings, the clarinet not entering for 90 seconds or so. When it does join in, the melody it plays is wistful. The mood established is not quite tragic, but certainly serious. At the nine-minute mark, the mood becomes very serious indeed, the music lower in volume, ending in a chord that is followed immediately by a perky melody from the clarinet. The Allegretto closing movement begins without pause, with a five-note theme that gets repeated in various guises as the movement continues. But then once again Weinberg shifts moods, the perkiness going away at around the 4:30 mark. A couple of minutes later clarinetist Robert Oberaigner performs a remarkable cadenza that is followed by an exuberant dash to the finish line by the orchestra, with the five-note theme reappearing as the movement and the piece come to an end. 

Next on the program is Weinberg’s Clarinet Sonata, for which Oberaigner is joined by pianist Michael Schöch. The opening Allegro begins with solo clarinet, but the piano quickly joins in as their melodies commence to intertwine playfully. After a couple of minutes, the duo decelerates, the music becoming more serious-sounding. From there, things get more boisterous, almost martial in tone, shifting once again to take on an even more serious, probing tone, slowing and easing down to the end of the movement. Naturally enough, the following Allegretto movement starts off with a jaunty melody from the clarinet, with the piano quickly joining in, both instruments generating a feeling of forward motion. The mood soon becomes even more demonstrative, with both instruments taking solo turns, but then the tempo slows down significantly, the music becoming quiet and introspective, ultimately fading into silence. Although it seemed perfectly natural for Weinberg to have followed the sober ending of the first movement with the playful opening of the second movement, he has a surprise up his sleeve for us now, choosing to conclude the piece with an Adagio final movement. For the first couple of minutes we hear nothing from the clarinet, the piano soloing until the clarinet eventually enters. The music feels restless and unsettled, seemingly wanting to go into a dance but just not being able to muster sufficient energy. After some funereal chords from the piano, the clarinet enters with a yearning melody. The piece ends with a slow melody on the clarinet followed by more chords from the piano.

The cover illustration for this CD is from a painting by Gustav Klimt titled Birch Forest I. The opening Lento movement of the Chamber Symphony No. 4  can evoke the feeling of walking in such woods, alone, contemplating some or another matter, or perhaps trying to ascertain just where you are and where you are going. Are you lost? Beginning softly on the strings, the simple melody is haunting and ruminative. The clarinet comes in after three minutes have gone by, taking up the restless, unsettled mood for a while until dropping out and letting the strings take back over. Before the ending, the mood and tone change once again, almost as if the wanderer in the woods has shifted concerns to another issue before the movement fades out at its end. The second movement, marked Allegro molto – Moderato, adopts a more outgoing feeling, evoking a sense of motion, of being in a hurry. Not necessarily frantic, but certainly determined. A four-note theme emerges in the strings, until a clarinet solo, followed by a violin solo, wand then finally a cello taking the lead until the end of the movement. The third and longest movement, marked Adagio — Mosso, darts quietly, led by clarinet and cello, the music featuring a brooding melody as the strings take over. Toward the end, of the movement, the music becomes softer, almost ethereal, leading without pause into the final Andantino — Adagissimo movement as the clarinet changes the mood once again, playing above the strings, At about the five-minute mark, tension builds, than the clarinet takes a solo in its lower register, shifting the tone to become very brooding and inward-looking, the piece ending in the bass strings. Although the clarinet plays a significant role in proceedings, this truly is a chamber symphony, not a concerto by any means, but a  truly moving and remarkable work.

Despite their sometimes serious, even brooding moods, all three pieces are tonal, melodic, and entertaining. The recorded sound is excellent, with the clarinet not given undue prominence in the mix in the orchestral works (recorded in Dresden) and the piano and clarinet blending well in the sonata (recorded in Innsbruck), neither instrument being captured too closely by the microphones. The liner notes are informative, although printed in teeny-tiny font. However, thank goodness that Naxos had the decency and common sense to use black font on a white background. Especially if you are a fan of the clarinet, and even more so should you happen to enjoy the music of Shostakovich (or, of course, if you are already familiar with and a fan of Weinberg), you should find this relatively unknown music by a somewhat overlooked composer to be a pleasurable discovery indeed.

Bonus Recommendation: So many recordings, so little time… As I state in my brief Classical Candor bio, I am a music lover who enjoys getting and giving recommendations of recordings. Because our focus is generally on newer releases, I thought it might be fun (at least for me) and interesting (perhaps, at least occasionally, for you) to pass along brief recommendations of CDs that are older, occasionally even out of print, but well worth a listen. These will not be full reviews, just recommendations with a snip of description and a snatch of commentary. I hope you find them to be useful, or entertaining, or at least not an utter waste of time. Here goes…

My first bonus recommendation is for a compilation of music by the remarkable Ukrainian composer Valentin Silvestrov (b. 1937) titled Moments of Memory II (Naxos 8.573598). By the way, the album title is actually the title of one of the compositions, so don’t bother trying to find a CD titled Moments of Memory I.  The performers include pianist Iryna Starodub and the Kiev Virtuosi under the direction of Dmitry Yablosnky. The half-dozen compositions are essentially gentle, soothing, almost dreamlike in character. At the same time, there is enough going on to intrigue the intellect and stimulate the imagination. In these troubled, turbulent times, this is music that can be a significant source of sonic succor.

KWN

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