Debussy-Rameau (CD Review)

Vikingur Olafsson, piano. Deutsche Grammophon 479 7701.

Program by track: 1) Debussy: La damoiselle élue – Prélude; 2) Rameau: Piéces de Clavecin (1724), Le Rappel des oiseaux; 3) Rigaudons 1, 2 & Double; 4) Musette en rondeau; 5) Tambourin; 6) La Villageoise; 7) Gigues en rondeau 1 & 2; 8) Debussy: Estampes, 3. Jardins sous la pluie; 9) Children's Corner, 3. Serenade for the Doll; 10) 4. The Snow Is Dancing; 11) Rameau: Piéces de Clavecin (1724), Les Tendres Plaintes; 12) Les Tourbillons, 13) L'entretien des Muses; 14) Debussy: Préludes, Book 1, Des pas sur la neige 15) Rameau: Piéces de Clavecin (1724), La joyeuse; 16) Les Cyclopes; 17) Rameau/Vikingur Ólafsson: The Arts and the Hours; 18) Debussy: Préludes Book 1, 8. La fille aux cheveux de lin; 19) Préludes Book 2, 8. Ondine; 20) Rameau: Cinquième concert, 2. La Cupis 21) Quatrième concert, 2. L'indiscrète; 22) 3. La Rameau; 23) Nouvelle Suites de Piéces de Clavecin, La Poule; 24) L'Enharmonique; 25) Menuets 1 & 2; 26) Les Sauvages; 27) L'Égyptienne; 28) Debussy: Images Book 1, Hommage à Rameau

By Karl W. Nehring

Having previously enjoyed and reviewed recordings by Icelandic pianist Vikingur Olafsson featuring the music of Bach and Philip Glass, I have been most eager to audition his latest release, which features music from two French composers who were separated temporally by a century and a half, the well-known and hugely influential Claude Debussy (1862-1918) and the much less well-known (at least in our modern era) Jean-Philippe Rameau (1683-1764). Vikingur ("Olafsson" is a patronymic, so it is appropriate to refer to the pianist in what might appear to be an overly familiar manner) is a remarkable pianist who carefully considers the program for his recordings. As he explains in his liner notes, he was familiar with Debussy's keyboard music for as long as he can remember, but did not encounter the music of Rameau until his student days in New York, where he heard a 1951 recording by the late Russian pianist Emil Gilels of a Rameau composition and was impressed by how well it seemed to lend itself to being played on a modern piano.

However, as he goes on to say, "it wasn't until the spring of 2019 as I waited (and waited and waited and waited) for the birth of my first child that I finally had the chance, having cleared some weeks in my concert schedule, to sit down with all of Rameau's published keyboard works and read through every one of them. A world of wonder revealed itself. Ingenious works of remarkable diversity, rarely programmed or recorded on the modern instrument. Incidentally, what I experienced in the music of Rameau had been aptly put into words in 1903 by a certain Claude Debussy, who had been swept away by a performance of the first two acts of Rameau's opera Castor et Pollux…  In his superlative review, he described the nusic as 'so personal in tone, so new in construction, that space and tine are defeated and Rameau seems to be [our] contemporary.'"

Vikingur goes on to recount that "curiously, the more time I spent with Rameau's keyboard music, the more my mind wandered to Debussy and the seemingly unlikely affinity of that revolutionary, who openly disregarded tradition and denounced all musical rules except the law of pleasure, to the founding father of French music theory and pedagogy… Side by side, their keyboard works allow us to revel in the delightful paradoxes of great music: the wild progressiveness of Rameau is illuminated by Debussy's historically informed sense of detail and proportion – and vice versa… Another shared element of these two giants of French music is what could be called a synaesthetic streak. In my view, a certain blending of sensory experience seems natural to how the two approached music."

Vikingur Olafsson

As is my usual practice, I did not read the liner notes until after I had done some listening, but my first impression of this recording was along the lines that Vikingur has described. More precisely, my impression was to my mind the result of the sensitive, expressive touch that Vikingur brings to the keyboard. From the opening measures of the opening Debussy Etude, I found myself enthralled by the sound; so colorful, so rich in texture, so nuanced in volume and tempo. The music is dreamy, languid, the notes lingering in the air as the music lingers in the ear while yet moving forward.

Then on to Rameau, some selections from his 1724 set of keyboard pieces. The music is brisk and bright, featuring dance rhythms, with Vikingur's fingers dancing on the keyboard in delight, then shifting to a slower, more dreamlike mood that shifts to a more energetic approach as Vikingur returns to Debussy for three cuts.

The first of these, "Jardins sous la pluie," returns to a more rapid tempo. In light of the Rameau that he has just played, Vikingur leads us to feel that this music by Debussy is similar to what we have just heard from Rameau, but with a different harmonic structure, painting a similar picture but with different colors and textures of musical paint. Moving on to the two familiar sections from Children's Corner, Vikingur brings fresh light and life to music that many of us have heard many times before (Debussy fans of a certain age might have vivid memories – favorable or unfavorable – of Tomita's Snowflakes are Dancing, for example). And yes, Vikingur's interpretation reminds is that yes, the snow is dancing, perhaps having fallen while listening to some Rameau…

The program then shifts back to three more short pieces by Rameau from the 1724 set. Although Vikingur is playing a modern piano, his lively touch on these pieces ranges from tender to brisk, at times evoking the feeling of the harpsichord, particularly in his lively rendition of "Les Tourbillons."

The transition between the next two pieces, "L'entretien des Muses" by Rameau and "Des pas sur la neige" by Debussy, highlights Vikingur's way of seeing these two temporally disparate composers as musically intertwined in some significant ways. The wistful spell cast by the reflective Rameau is maintained in the Debussy. Truly, the Debussy sounds as if it is a continuation of the Rameau, not a copy or imitation, but a musical soul mate. Interestingly, both pieces have similar peaceful endings. Vikingur plays both these pieces with a loving, reflective touch. The concluding measures of the Debussy evoke feelings of blissful episodes from your life that your heart longs to keep securely stored in your mind so that they can be recalled in moments of pleasant introspection.

Following a couple more Rameau pieces from the 1724 set that return to a lighter, more lively style, we come to the track that fully embodies Vikingur's study of and appreciation for the music of the French master, The Arts and the Hours. Vikingur based this composition on an music from Rameau's final opera, Les Boreades, which he wrote in 1763 at the age of 80. The pianist explains in his liner notes that he "transcribed it for the modern piano because its colorful resonance allows for new and interesting textural possibilities in a piece that seems so ahead of its time; its rich harmonies of suspended 9ths and 11ths one could almost imagine Mahler writing in the late 19th century. In the original opera, based on a Greek legend, the interlude bears a somewhat lengthy title: "The Arrival of the Muses, Zephyrs, Seasons, Hours and the Arts." As all of these mythical beings summoned to the stage have something to do with the arts and with time's passing, I allowed myself to call my transcription simply The Arts and the Hours, with a nod to the Greek aphorism best known in its Latin version as 'Ars Longa, vita brevis.'"

After a simple but emotionally and sonically resonant opening, the music adopts a songlike quality: an aria from the keyboard. My scribbled listening notes read, "lovely tunes expressively performed, Vikingur pouring heart & soul into it." (By the way, there is a lovely video of Vikingur performing The Arts and the Hours available on YouTube.) 

Then comes another remarkable transition, as the next cut takes us back to Debussy, this time the magical "Girl with the Flaxen Hair," featuring a haunting melody that will no doubt be both familiar to and beloved by many music lovers. In this setting, the piece seems to fit in so naturally following the previous track, with Vikingur once again subtly varying tempo and touch. So too with the next Debussy piece, "Ondine," which is again wistful and imaginative, with a lingering passage about two minutes in that is just so beautiful, so beautiful... 
     
That same reflective tone and sensitive touch at the keyboard carries the listener through the transition back to the music of Rameau, beginning with three selections from his Pieces de clavecin en concerts from 1741. Vikingur performs the first piece, "La Cupis," with much the same subtle expressiveness he had exhibited in the preceding Debussy. To my ears at least, "La Cupis," feels like a "farewell" piece, music that could be used in a movie soundtrack for a scene depicting the parting of a pair of lovers. The next few tracks featuring music of Rameau ore more energetic, playfully culminating in a musical depiction of a barnyard in "La Poule," but then the chickens seem to have become philosophers as depicted by Vikingur's more thoughtful tone for "L'Enharmonic." The final three Rameau compositions on the program find Vikingur's playing returning to the dance-like, playful style of some of the earlier cuts, with his fleet fingers sometimes seeming to dance merrily up and down the keyboard with joyful exuberance. . 

For the final composition included in this release, Vikingur returns to Debussy for the fittingly titled "Hommage a Rameau." With smoothly managed tempo and volume changes, Vikingur shows his deep affection for the music and the legacies of both composers. Especially touching is the quiet ending, with the final soft note being held for several seconds as it fades into final silence. Vikingur's comments about this piece also serve as evidence for his interest in and regard for these two French masters: "[Debussy] was always forward-thinking, even when looking back in time – just as he was meticulous in his craft even when actively reflecting tradition. Much has been written about Debussy's firm roots in the French Baroque and the complicated way in which Rameau influenced not just his music, but also his identity as a French composer. To me, however, this piece epitomizes in simpler terms his relationship with Rameau. As a gesture, it is a nod, not a bow – from one great artist to another, signalling the recognition of spiritual relatedness, rather than a disciple's gratitude to a teacher."

The engineering on this CD is very good. The piano sound is full-bodied. There are no extraneous noises – grunting, clicking fingernails, and other such distractions do not make any unwelcome appearances. I was rather shocked, ion fact, to see on an Amazon Germany site I somehow stumbled across that someone had posted a review slamming this release for its "poor sound quality." I cannot begin to fathom any rational justification for such a judgment. This is a well-engineered production. (As another aside, I recently spoke with an audiophile friend who commented that he did not understand how anyone with a strong regard for audio quality could bear to listen to piano music from a vinyl LP in this day and age.) Moreover, Vikingur once again provides an extensive liner note essay on the music and his approach to it that is fascinating and enlightening. The artwork and layout of the included booklet are attractive and readable, even to "mature" eyes such as mine, and the CD is packed with nearly 80 minutes of music. Vikingur Olafsson and DG have hit another home run (oh, how I miss baseball in this year of COVID-19!) with this release and I look forward eagerly to the next one. Perhaps some piano music by Valentin Silvestrov, John Cage, Maurice Ravel, Jean Sibelius, Isaac Albéniz, or dare I even hope, Bill Evans?   

KWN

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

B2C: Bach to Choir (CD review)

Suites for Solo Cello Nos. 1 & 3, with choir. Sophie Webber, cello; Members of the Choir of the Ascension, Chicago. Sheringham Records.

Sophie Webber is a British cellist now residing in San Diego, California. She recorded her debut album of the Bach Cello Suites in 2018 and titled it "Escape." Now, for something slightly different, Ms. Webber presents an unusual view of the suites, this time for cello and accompanying choir. On the present disc, she plays Suites 1 and 3 with choral arrangements of her own design. Given that every cellist who has ever lived during the age of recordings has already made an album of the Bach suites, including Ms. Webber herself, the novelty (and beauty) of offering them with vocal augmentation seems inspired. The results are lovely.

The exact dates Bach wrote the suites is unclear, but it was probably somewhere between 1717-23. One thing that is certain, though, is that the suites are extraordinary, and they might well be familiar even to listeners not acquainted with much of the composer's music. After all, most of us have heard this material, especially the first suite, used in films and television commercials; I mean, even Bach reused some of the tunes for other instrumental works.

Anyhow, the suites each contain six dance movements, and one of the remarkable things about them is the composer's ability to make the single cello sound like several instruments, with melody and accompaniment. Only this time out, Ms. Webber's cello really IS accompanied by other instruments, namely human voices in the persons of eight members of the Choir of the Ascension, Chicago. Together, they "make a joyful noise" (Psalm 100).

As Ms. Webber puts it, "The vision of this album is to offer an interpretation of the Suites which highlights the implied harmonies and rhythmic characters of Bach's solo string works and potentially invites new listeners into the world of Bach and classical music."

Sophie Webber

First up is the familiar Suite No. 1 in G, BWV 1007. At first the wordless choral accompaniment seems obvious to the ear, pleasant and pronounced. After a few moments, however, one becomes used to it, perhaps even finding it normal. Ms. Webber was keen enough not to make the voices too obtrusive, and they aren't. They complement the cello well and project a tranquil, spirited, soothing, or exuberant enhancement to Bach's music as the case may be.

Ms. Webber's playing is gentle, fluid, and expressive, nicely integrating with the choir. Her performances are happy and invigorating and bring out all the joy in the music. She has no doubt been playing these suites for some time and knows them backwards. The fact that she has devoted her first two albums to the suites attests to this fact. The chorus adds to Bach's many moods, and Ms. Webber's performance brings out the nuances in the various movements.

Then we have the slightly less familiar but still popular Suite No. 3 in C, BWV 1009. While purists may look down upon messing with Bach's creations, it seems to me entirely felicitous that Ms. Webber should provide us with yet another fine set of accompaniments to Bach's solo suites. It's not like it hasn't been done any number of times before, with piano, viola, etc., and with transcriptions for violin, guitar, trumpet, organ, and practically every other instrument in the band. Bach himself frequently borrowed his own material and reworked it for other instruments in later compositions. Besides which, Bach often alternated writing secular and sacred music, and since the suites are quite worldly in nature, the choral background invests them with an almost religious tone despite their lively presentation. It's kind of the best of two worlds.

My one quibble may seem petty and is maybe a backhanded compliment: The disc contains only about forty-two minutes of music, with plenty of space left over for another of the suites. The fact is, though, this album is so entertaining, you may find it over before you know it.

Producers Paul French and James Kallembach and engineer Christopher Willis recorded the music at Guarneri Hall & Bon Chapel, Chicago, Illinois in September and November 2019. The sound places the cello squarely in the middle of the ensemble. Although the singers don't always seem entirely of a piece with the soloist, they do evoke an appropriately resonant, ethereal presence. Clarity, articulation, and detailing are well presented, too, so the whole makes pleasant listening.

JJP

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

British Music for Viola and Orchestra (CD review)

by Karl Nehring

Vaughan Williams: Suite for Viola and Orchestra (Group 1); Howells: Elegy; Walton: Viola Concerto; Bowen: Viola Concerto. Helen Callus, viola; string quartet comprising Mesa-Matti Leppanen and David Gilling, violin; Vyvyan Yendoll, viola; David Chickering, cello (principal players of NZSO); Marc Taddei, New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. Naxos 8.573876

Viola players sometimes lament not having available to them nearly the noteworthy repertoire that composers have heaped upon their colleagues who play the violin or cello. British-born violist Helen Callus, currently a Professor of Viola at Northwestern University, is a virtuosa of that instrument whose playing on this CD should go far to enhance the reputation of the viola and demonstrate that there is some excellent if underappreciated viola repertoire that deserves wider hearing. This is a gorgeous disc from start to its finish more than 78 minutes later.

The program opens with music by Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958), who wrote some truly memorable music spotlighting the viola, such as Flos Campi (well worth seeking out if you have not yet heard it). The music on this disc consists of the first three movements of his eight-movement Suite for Viola and Orchestra (1934). The opening Prelude features a fairly simple tune with the viola leading out, accompanied mainly by strings, with some nice writing for flute as the music wends it way though just over three minutes. The second movement, Carol, is slower and more pensive in temperament. The winds make an appearance to accompany the viola early on, with the flute stepping up toward the end to intertwine melodically with Callus's viola before the brief two minutes wind down to a quiet ending. The final Christmas Dance is even shorter, but features a boisterous dance tune that makes for a jolly, upbeat ending to the brief but entertaining set. 

Next up is a piece by Herbert Howells (1892-1983) that probably few music lovers have ever encountered, his Elegy (1917) for viola, string quartet, and string orchestra. Callus opens the music with a solo, mournful in mood – as you would expect for an elegy – and is then joined by the orchestral strings. She takes another wistful solo later, and then there is some more mournful music from the quartet before being rejoined by the fuller complement of strings. Some restless churning passages underpinned by the lower strings are then joined by the viola, with the quartet then following. The orchestra comes in very softly, Callus's viola sounds floating over them, as Elegy winds down to a thoughtful, quiet ending. Such a wonderful discovery it is to encounter music of such serene sublimity!

Helen Callus

Following Howells in order of birth is William Walton (1902-1983), a prolific British composer whose Viola Concerto was first composed in 1928-1929, revised in 1936-37, then revised yet again in 1961. Walton targeted the piece for viola virtuoso Lionel Tertis, who declined to play it because it sounded "too modern" for his sensibilities. None other than the composer Paul Hindemith (also a violist) then took up the score and gave the premier performance in 1929. Incidentally, Hindemith's own composition Der Schwanendreher (1935) for viola and orchestra stands today as one of the staples of the repertoire for violists. As played so persuasively by Callus and the NZSO under the direction of Maestro Taddei, it is hard to imagine this music being too modern for the sensibilities of all but the most hidebound listener today. As the slow opening unfolds, the sound of Callus's viola floats above the accompaniment of the orchestra. Continuing on, moments of energy are counterbalanced by moments of quiet introspection, with the sound of the viola at times being augmented by the woodwinds. Toward the end, the viola is joined by a violin, then a flute, until the movement ends with the sound of the viola. The second movement is more spirited and energetic, with more input from the brass section of the orchestra. Callus plays in the higher registers at first, later shifting downward and projecting a restless feeling, the music being punctuated by brass and drums. The third movement begins with something of a marchlike sound and cadence, morphing into more a dance-like feeling. As the movement continues, the musical energy ebbs and flows. Enthusiasm and reflection have their turns, ultimately winding down though some passages of deep tenderness, the piece ending in peaceful repose.

Some time ago I received a Tweet from noted Chicago-area violist Michael Hall suggesting that I might want to give a listen to the Viola Concerto of York Bowen (1884-1961), a composer who was entirely unknown to me. I did a quick search on my phone and found a version that I did a cursory listen to (it was one of those evenings when I had three or four things going on at once so I was not able to focus on the music). Because I had never heard of York Bowen, I assumed that he must be some contemporary composer, and for whatever reason got the idea he was from Australia. I decided I would like to listen to his concerto more seriously sometime but never quite got around to it. When I recently discovered a bag containing a few CDs I had purchased a long while back, you can imagine my pleasant surprise when I found that included, of all things, the Bowen piece. A further surprise was my discovery that rather than being a contemporary Australian composer, he was a British composer who was born in the 19th century (missed it by THAAT much)! 

At any rate, his Viola Concerto, which he completed in 1907, was also written for Lionel Tertis, who apparently found it more to his liking than the Walton, for he gave the piece its premier performance in 1908. A century later, Ms. Callus has given us a stirring performance that has been expertly recorded so that we can enjoy this beautiful, melodic music at our leisure. The first movement opens briskly, with the viola spinning rhapsodic strings of sound that are supplemented by other section of the orchestra as the movement unfolds. The opening theme is echoed later in the movement, which comes to an end with a lively flourish. The middle movement opens with the strings, then the winds, and then the viola makes its presence known. The mood is more serious and resolute, but melody still prevails, the movement ending with Callus playing most tenderly and tranquilly. The third and final movement is more swift and rhythmic. After an exuberant orchestral section that comes to a big climax, Callus spins out an extended solo that feels like a cadenza. The orchestra then returns, the viola picks up the energy, and the concerto comes to an end with a big, exuberant chord. Bravo and Brava!

The sound quality is excellent throughout, with a good sense of depth, no sense of harshness or glare, and a neutral tonal balance. There is not much low bass, but that is a function of the music, not the engineering. At more than 78 minutes in length, this CD offers wonderful value and I recommend it highly to those who love that beautiful British sound. Helen Callus is certainly not a violist who did not practice hard enough – she is a top-tier virtuosa of a wondrous instrument. All hail the mighty viola!