Dvorak: Tone Poems (CD review)

Sir Simon Rattle, Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. EMI 7243 5 58019-2 (2-disc set).

There hasn't been a really good set in quite some time of Dvorak's four tone poems of 1896. The best ones appeared ages ago from Kertesz and the LSO (Decca), Kubelik the Bavarian RSO (DG), and Harnoncout and the Concertgebouw O. (Warner Classics). So it's good to have so refined and polished as set as this one from Sir Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic from 2005.

The tone poems I'm referring to are The Golden Spinning Wheel, The Wood Dove, The Noonday Witch, and The Water Goblin. Dvorak wrote them toward the end of his career, after he'd made his mark with the nine symphonies and the Cello Concerto and what have you. He wanted to do something uniquely Czech, returning to Prague to compose these orchestral ballads based on folk songs collected by Prague archivist Karel Jaromir Erben. They are typical folk stories, very lurid and grisly as so many folk stories are. They mostly have to do with monsters eating people--young heroines and children--or in the case of The Wood Dove, a bird driving a woman to suicide. Yes, they're rather merciless, but think even of a child's fairy tale like "Hansel and Gretel" and you get the idea. No need for political correctness here nor any apologies.

Rattle and his players handle the pieces in exemplary fashion, with plenty of color and atmosphere. If anything, though, his treatments may be a too sophisticated, too cultured, to capture fully the horrifying aspects of these tales. A quick listen to Kertesz, for example, reveals interpretations less subtle, less delicate, but more boisterous and more robust. This is to take nothing away from Rattle; his just seems to take a more urbane approach to such folky tunes.

The real advantage of the new EMI set is the sound. What a pleasure it is to listen to the Berlin Philharmonic without an audience coughing, wheezing, and shuffling in the background. For most of the tenures of Claudio Abbado and Rattle they and their record companies have insisted upon recording almost everything with the BPO live, perhaps providing more spontaneous performances but compromising the sound. This time out, the orchestra was less distant and a whole lot fuller sounding. By comparison, the old Kertesz-Decca recordings, while still good, are brighter, harder, and more forward, with less mid bass response. The Rattle-EMI recordings are smoother overall, perhaps a touch too soft, and much better balanced tonally, with a sturdy if sometimes overly prominent mid bass.

The only serious complaint I would make is that the two discs in the Rattle set contain a total of about eighty-three minutes of music: forty-eight minutes on disc one and about thirty-five minutes on disc two. It is short measure, hardly more than one finds on a single disc these days.  Oh, well....

JJP

Mozart: Piano Concertos Nos. 19 and 23 (CD review)

Also, aria from Idomeneo. Helene Grimaud, piano; Mojca Erdmann, soprano; Radoslaw Szulc, leader, Bavarian Radio Chamber Orchestra and Symphony. DG B0016204-02.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) was a musical prodigy on the piano, a child genius whose father dragged him all over Europe to play before kings and courts. It's no wonder, then, that Mozart would produce some twenty-seven piano concertos during his relatively short life. He seems to have been born to the genre.

French pianist Helene Grimaud, who began playing the piano at the age of seven, also seems to have been born to the instrument. In the few recordings I've heard from her, she appears not only sensitive and virtuosic but more than willing to be herself as well, to reinterpret old favorites with new shadings of her own. Although I've not always agreed with her vision of things, I can certainly appreciate her desire not to be another sheep following every other pianist before her. If there wasn't room for a multitude of interpretations in musical performances, there would be no need for hearing more than one of anything.

Ms. Grimaud begins the program with the Piano Concerto No. 19 in F major, K. 459, where she takes the opening Allegro vivace at its word with a vivacious tempo and characteristically imaginative phrasing. Then she makes the slow center movement all the more lovely for its straightforward simplicity and delicacy, wrapping things up with a snappy finale that seems only fitting.

Between the album's two concertos, Ms. Grimaud chose to ask soprano Mojca Erdmann to sing "Ch'io mi scordi di te?" - "Non temer, amato bene" from Mozart's opera Idomeneo. The music makes a charming and wholly appropriate interlude in the proceedings.

In the disc's final work, the Piano Concerto No. 23 in A major, K. 488, Ms. Grimaud tends to race through the Allegro, even if the orchestra wants clearly to take their time. Perhaps she wanted to get to the ravishing central Adagio all the more quickly. Certainly, there is no questioning the radiance of her playing here, the tenderness in every note. No doubt, too, her extra-slow pace in the Adagio contributes to a small diminution of lilt and lift; alas, it's all a trade-off, a compromise. In the closing movement Ms. Grimaud is fleet, polished, and technically remarkable, if not quite so much fun as several of her colleagues, particularly Ashkenazy (Decca), Tan (Virgin), Curzon (Decca), Perahia (Sony), and Barenboim (EMI and BR Klassik).

DG recorded the two concertos live at the Prinzregententheater, Munich, May, 2011 and the aria in the Residenz, Herkulessaal, July, 2011. The concertos are miked close enough to reduce most audience noise, but the sonics are still rather soft and a little hollow, with a good number of extraneous sounds from Ms. Grimaud's footwork perhaps or hall resonance, I don't know. It's a distraction in any case and just one of the drawbacks of recording live. Otherwise, the piano is well out in front of the orchestra and fairly well delineated, the orchestral accompaniment smooth though not especially impressive. The vocal pieces, not done live, sound significantly cleaner and more natural, the voice sweet and clear. Not unexpectedly, the two concertos come complete with a disfiguring outburst of applause at the end of each.

Incidentally, there's one oddity about DG's labeling of the album: Neither the booklet cover nor the jewel-box spine mention the music involved. They only name the composer and the artist, Ms. Grimaud. I guess you are supposed to know instinctively (or simply remember) what Ms. Grimaud is playing on the disc once you've set it on your shelf. Or maybe the folks at DG figure people don't really care what Ms. Grimaud is playing, only that she's doing it.

JJP

Schubert: Trout Quintet (CD review)

Also, "Arpeggione" Sonata; "Notturno" Adagio. Jos van Immerseel, fortepiano; L'Archibudelli: Vera Beths, violin; Jurgen Kussmaul, viola; Anner Bylsma, cello; Marji Danilow, double bass. Newton Classics 8802087.

I'm sure there are as many "Trout" in the music catalogue as there are fish in the sea. Sometimes we wonder why record companies keep releasing the same warhorses over and over, but in the case Schubert's Piano Quintet in A, D667, one can understand the justification for so many releases. The work continues to sparkle with a freshness that that never fails to enthrall listeners. Regarding the present "Trout," Jos van Immerseel and company recorded it on period instruments some years ago for Sony Classics, and the folks at Newton Classics are now reissuing it in their own transfer. It's a worthy re-release in a crowded and highly competitive field.

Austrian composer Franz Schubert (1797-1828) in his short life wrote some of the happiest, most-felicitous, and most-moving music the world has ever known, with his "Trout" Quintet (written in 1819 but not published until a year after his death) among the most cheerful, and most challenging, of the lot. People called it "The Trout" early on because Schubert based the final movement on a series of songs, lieder, he had written some years earlier, variations known as "Die Forelle" or "The Trout."

Immerseel on fortepiano and the period-instruments ensemble L'Archibudelli provide a lively interpretation of the work, even if one is immune to the charms of period-instruments bands. Note, however, that one would never know this was a period-instruments recording from just reading the jewel box if one didn't notice the word "fortepiano" next to Immerseel's name or already know that Immerseel and L'Archibudelli play on period instruments. Newton Classics say nothing of the matter on the disc, the booklet, or the booklet insert. Of course, you might notice once you started listening to the music: a fortepiano sounds slightly less resonant than a modern piano, and gut strings, period tuning, and older performing practices sound different from modern ones.

Anyway, Immerseel and company take this "Trout" in a more vigorous fashion than most other performers do, with energetic rhythms and sprightly accents well punctuated. While it is hardly the leisurely, charming "Trout" we hear from musicians like Alfred Brendel et al (Philips) or the augmented Beaux Arts Trio (Philips or PentaTone), two of my favorites, Immerseel's reading has its own delights, at least if you like fast speeds. Personally, I prefer the more leisurely approach.

So, just how quick is this reading? The only other period-instruments version I had on hand was from members of the Academy of Ancient Music on L'Oiseau-Lyre, and in every movement Immerseel and his companions are faster. Needless to say, compared to modern accounts, such as those from the aforementioned Brendel and Beaux Arts, Immerseel is practically a speed demon.

Under Immerseel's direction, the first movement, an Allegro vivace, shows much life and animation, while at the same time a sensitive flow of melodies. The next movement, the slow Andante, may not be as graceful as we hear it in many other renderings, but it is still quite lovely and lyrical.

The Scherzo: Presto is particularly forceful, although the actual dynamics--the range between the softest and loudest passages--is not particularly wide, which may be one of the disc's only failings. The performers tend to play almost everything at the same level, without as much contrast as in others' hands. Nevertheless, it is fetching in its way.

The central Variations are as delightful as ever, despite their brisk tempos, and I might say the same for the finale. Schubert's indication for the last movement is Allegro giusto (cheerful, joyful, usually fast, and fitting or just right), which is a pretty general tempo marking, allowing for a lot of interpretative leeway. At least we know Schubert wanted something a little fast and lively, and he gets it here, the performers playing with more-than-enough gusto.

The next of the program's couplings is the Sonata in A minor, D821, for piano and cello, also called the "Arpeggione Sonata" because Schubert wrote it for an instrument called the arpeggione. Unfortunately, shortly after he wrote it the instrument went out of style, and today performers usually play it on the cello. Anner Bylsma plays it on a violincello piccolo. The piece is largely grave in nature, with occasional lighter moments.

The Adagio in E flat, D897, "Notturno," for piano trio that closes the show is sweetly melancholic and regal at the same time. It's a neat combination.

Where this release scores over many of its competitors is its recording, made in July, 1997, in Lutherse Church, Haarlem, the Netherlands. It captures a genuine sense of air and space around the instruments without ever sounding bright, forward, or edgy. Indeed, if it errs at all, it's on the side of being a tad too smooth and warm. The stereo spread is broad enough to indicate a modest distance, yet the clarity and impact of the music never appear too compromised.

I'm not sure how well received this recording of the "Trout" was when Sony first released it, but it certainly deserves this second chance on Newton Classics. It strikes a generally happy chord and brings a smile to the lips.

JJP