Mozart: Gran Partita (CD review)

Serenades Nos. 10 “Gran Partita” and 11. Soloists from the Akademie fur Alte Musik Berlin. Harmonia Mundi HMM 902627.

By John J. Puccio

By definition a serenade was originally a vocal or instrumental piece performed outdoors in the evening (and usually outside the house of a woman). Today, it usually applies to light, multi-movement works for winds or scorings intended for orchestral performance. Mozart was so taken by the serenade that he wrote thirteen of them, the last one, “Eine kleine Nachtmusik,” being the most popular of the bunch. On the present recording we get two of his other popular serenades, Nos. 10 and 11, performed on period instruments by soloists from the Akademie fur Alte Musik and employing the number of musicians the composer indicated in the scores. The two works probably sound about as close to what Mozart intended as one can get.

Opening the program is the Serenade No. 11 in E-flat major, K. 375, written in 1781. It has five movements, and the Akademie play the revised version, which uses two oboes in addition to two clarinets, two bassoons, and two horns. The Akademie players are very precise in their coordination and articulation, so it’s a pleasure listening to their immaculate group effort. However, they do not seem to produce an abundance of joy, gusto, or cheer. Although they are not a somber ensemble--far from it with their brisk tempos--they are not a particularly exciting or jubilant one, either. They appear more businesslike, placing their emphasis on efficiency rather than exultation or merriment. Still, they produce such a soothing, pleasing sound, it’s hard not to like and admire their presentation.

The star of the show is the Serenade No. 10 in E-flat major, K. 361, subtitled “Gran Partita.” Mozart wrote it around 1781 or ‘82, although he probably didn’t subtitle it himself. Whatever, it’s a “grand suite” in seven movements, scored for two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two basset horns, four horns, and a double bass. You might recognize the third movement Adagio from the 1984 movie Amadeus. It’s near the beginning of the film when Salieri tells us he can’t understand why God chose so coarse a fellow as Mozart to write such heavenly music.

Again, the Akademie play the serenade in a noble and assured manner with little room for playfulness. They are a purposeful group intent on performing the music as accurately as possible. As such, No. 10 comes off with a regal splendor, in which you may or may not hear a divine voice. It’s more earthbound than that, while nevertheless remaining a delight.

Artistic Director Martin Sauer and engineer Rene Moller recorded the music at Teldex Studio Berlin, Germany in January 2020. Miked a bit closely, the sound is extremely well detailed, transparent, and dynamic. Having as few players as there are involved ensures textural clarity but not a lot of air around the instruments or depth to the stage. No matter; the recording’s cleanness and lucidity win the day.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from Serenade No. 10, click below:

Snétberger: Hallgató (CD review)

Ferenc Snétberger: Hallgató: Concerto for Guitar and Orchestra “In Memory of My People” (version for guitar and string quintet); Shostakovich: String Quartet No. 8; John Dowland: I saw my lady weep (for guitar and string quartet); Flow, my tears (for guitar and cello); Barber: Adagio for Strings; Snétberger: Your Smile (for solo guitar); Rhapsody No. 1 for Guitar and Orchestra (version for guitar and string quintet). Ferenc Snétberger, guitar; Keller Quartet (András Keller and Zsófia Környei, violin; Gábor Homoki, viola; Lászlo Fenyö, cello); Gyula Lázár, double bass. ECM New Series 2653 351 9395.

By Karl W. Nehring

Ferenc Snétberger (b. 1957) is a Hungarian guitarist who is primarily known as a jazz guitarist, but among other things, he has studied both classical and gypsy music. He does not sound like what most music fans would probably think a jazz guitarist would sound like, even on his jazz releases. However, this is a classical recording, and he is featured here not only as a performer but also as a composer.

To better understand this release, it might be best to begin with some considerations of context and presentation before moving on to the music itself. First, as it is noted in bold font on the back cover, this is a concert recording (from a performance or possibly performances at the Liszt Academy in Budapest in December, 2018). Now, JJP has often pointed out that many recordings these days are made during concert performances rather than under more “studio-like” conditions that might also be made in a concert hall but without the presence of an audience, meaning that the engineers would in the latter case would have more freedom in terms of microphone placement and even more importantly, the inevitable background noises resulting from a live audience would not be an issue. Through warning audiences that a recording is going to be made, careful microphone placement, and judicious editing, there have been some live recordings that exhibit very good sound, without any extraneous audience noises; however, be forewarned that this is not one of them. This truly does sound like a concert recording. There is applause, there is coughing, there is murmuring – the more revealing your audio system, the more you will experience the feeling of being present at a concert venue. Some listeners will find that engaging, while others may find it enraging. Personally, I found it surprising at first, but although I would have preferred the producer to at least have edited out the applause, I did not find the audience noises all that distracting once I heard them and directed my attention back to the sound of the instruments.

The idea of attention also informs another key consideration to understanding the context of the musical program included on this release, which is titled “Hallgató.” The liner notes point out that Hallgató is also the title of the opening movement of the composition that begins the program, Snétberger’s own Concerto for Guitar and Orchestra, further noting that the meaning óof Hallgató is ambiguous. In Hungarian, it means a listener, but also a student, “and thus a listener in a university seminar. In Roma culture, a ‘hallgató’ is also a relatively recent type of song, preceded by the ‘magyar nota’ of the 19th century – a slow, sustained song capable of expressing all the themes from the history and everyday life of this ancient people. Yet the Hungarian meaning can be readily combined with its Roma counterpart: the listener must be attentive when these typical folk songs are sung. They also preserve their character in instrumental garb.” Seen in this context, the title of the album is inviting us to be not just listeners, but attentive listeners, to the music performed in this concert, which apparently is meant to be heard not merely for diversion or entertainment, but for some more meaningful purpose.

The program opens with that concerto, which Snétberger composed and first played for the 50th anniversary of the end of the Holocaust and to which he ascribed the dedication, “In Memory of My People.” As you might expect, the piece is serious and somber. The opening movement, Hallgató, features a melancholy melody strummed on the guitar that is briefly interrupted by a frantic attempt at dance by the strings, but the guitar prevails. The second movement, Emlékek (“Memories”) finds the guitar and quintet working not so much at cross-purposes as in the previous movement, here producing music that sounds wistful and resigned. The final movement, Tánc (“Dance”) ups the energy and tempo, the strings at times playing with a gypsy feel, but the piece ends with a brief burst of energy that sounds like a desperate last gasp, as if the dance has been suddenly interrupted. The effect is disconcerting.

Next on the program is a piece that will be familiar to many classical music lovers, the String Quartet No. 8 by Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich, a work that has been recorded many times by many ensembles, which Shostakovich wrote “to commemorate the victims of fascism and war.” As played here by the Keller Quartet, the piece seems a bit softer-edged than usual. They seem not to dig into their instruments quite as vigorously as the Fitzwilliam or Emerson Quartets, to name two versions I play often (the Shostakovich quarters are a favorite of mine – I currently own three complete sets plus several individual discs). However, that softer approach fits in well with the overall thrust of the program on this recording, which is more reflective than angry, more melancholy than vengeful. Still, the emotional message is plainly evident. I would not want this for my only version of this powerful quartet, but it works well in this context. The Keller Quarter have clearly given plenty of thought to this music and come up with an approach that gets to the heart of the music. It is a performance well worth seeking out by those who treasure this jewel of the string quartet repertoire.

Following the emotional intensity of the Shostakovich, the two relatively brief and more straightforward Dowland laments from the 16th century come as something of a relief. They maintain a subdued sound, melancholy but not morose, serving in the program as a bridge to the another widely recorded 20th-century piece so familiar to classical music fans -- indeed, even to the general public -- Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, performed here in its original scoring for string quartet (it was a movement from his String Quartet op.11, but we have become so accustomed to hearing the work scored for string orchestra that many have forgotten the origin of the work). Given the Adagio’s association with grief and mourning, it certainly fits right into the emotional arc of the musical program.

A glance at the title of the penultimate piece on the program, Snétberger’s solo guitar piece Your Smile, might lead the listener to think that the clouds are suddenly going to part and a ray of sunshine is going to burst through so that all will suddenly be sweetness and light, but that is not the case. The smile in question appears to be a smile remembered, a sweet but fading memory of a love long lost. The music is beautiful, but it is a sad, wistful beauty that feels like an attempt to escape from the pain of loss. The program then closes with the quintet arrangement of Snétberger’s Rhapsody No. 1 for Guitar and Orchestra, which continues in the same emotional vein: wistful, somehow hopeful and resigned at the same time, finally trailing off into an ambiguous ending that just, well, ends, resolving nothing.

Thus ends an engaging program of music that is both soothing and unsettling. Ultimately, it is a testament  to the power of music’s ability to allow us to reflect upon the tragedies of life both large and small, from the unfathomable evil of the Holocaust to the personal tragedy of a lost loved one or perhaps merely the temporary pain of a would-be lover’s rejection. Music somehow affords us an abstract, distanced way to work through these all-too-present issues in our lives, whether it be by composing, performing, or, for most of us, listening. Not just hearing music, but really listening; and not just to it, but into it.

Bonus Recommendation:

Titok: Ferenc Snétberger, guitar; Anders Jormin, double bass; Joey Baron, drums. ECM 2017.

I have maintained in these pages before that I consider jazz, at least in some of its configurations, to be a form of chamber music, and thus I occasionally recommend jazz recordings in a space that of course focuses on classical music. In the case of Titok, this is music that can be heard as blending elements of jazz and folk. The instruments are all acoustic, which is unusual for a jazz guitar album. The sound is easy on the ears, but the music itself is far from simple-minded. This is not easy-listening music, but it is easy to listen to, delightfully imaginative, with Snétberger’s guitar being ably supported by Jormin’s nimble bass lines and Baron’s deft work behind the drumkit. The recording quality has that usual ECM rich sound. Titok is an album that folks who have been hesitant to listen to jazz might want to give an audition.

KWN

Stravinsky: The Rite of Spring (CD review)

Also, Eotvos: Alhambra (Violin Concerto no. 31). Isabelle Faust, violin; Pablo Heras-Casado, Orchestre de Paris. Harmonia Mundi HMM 902655.

By John J. Puccio

When Sergei Diaghilev's Ballets Russes company premiered Russian composer Igor Stravinsky’s ballet Le Sacre de Printemps (“The Rite of Spring”) at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in 1913, it caused a huge sensation. It was later called a “near riot” as the audience jeered and laughed, some of them walking out. Today, music historians see “The Rite” as a kind of turning point in classical music, a revolutionary work that formally introduced the world to the modern classical era.

By now, people have pretty much begun to take the avant-garde nature of Stravinsky’s early music for granted, but it was groundbreaking in its day. Of course, a lot of the stir at the time came about because of choreography by Vaslav Nijinsky, but still.... The work’s subtitle, “Pictures of Pagan Russia in Two Parts,” pretty much says it all. The story involves various primitive rituals celebrating the approach of spring (“Adoration of the Earth”), after which a young girl is chosen as a sacrificial victim and dances herself to death (“The Sacrifice”). Grim and heady stuff, and certainly not the kind of music for the weak of heart, either on the part of the audience or the conductor. My own favorite recording of the piece remains Leonard Bernstein’s 1958 rendering with the New York Philharmonic, now on Sony. So Maestro Pablo Heras-Casado has a challenge to come up with as electrifying a presentation. Yet, with a French orchestra in the country of the premiere, he comes close.

Heras-Casado carries out the duties of the score with a minimum of fuss. His interpretation is a good, vigorous, highly colorful one, filled with all the energy you would expect from the music. He builds the excitement of the opening movements with a quietly careful attention. What’s more important, this attentiveness extends from the gentlest passages to the most boisterous ones. Then, when things heat up, he isn’t afraid to let loose and give us a truly exhilarating experience. Of course, the sonics, help as well, and they are quite good. By the time we reach the middle of Part II, “The Glorification of the Chosen One,” things are in full thrust. Yet Maestro Heras-Casados keeps a tight rein on the histrionics, never letting the music out of his control. For this reason alone, I prefer Bernstein because with his account you’re never quite sure how out of hand things are going to get (they never do get out of control, but it’s that sense of uncertainty that makes it so fascinating). Still, Heras-Casado’s vision is as thrilling as almost anyone’s and makes for a rewarding listen.

Accompanying The Rite is the world premiere recording of Alhambra (Violin Concerto no. 31) by Peter Eotvos (b. 1944), with Isabelle Faust, violin. Eotvos dedicated the piece to Ms. Faust and Maestro Heras-Casado. A booklet note tells us that Eotvos wrote the work as “a free form, with repeated sections. The violin, followed by a double in the guise of a mandolin with scordatura tuning (an alternate way of tuning a stringed instrument that varies from standard tuning), leads this dreamlike itinerary through the various parts of a palace (the Alhambra) full of mystery and ghosts.” Like much modern music, Eotvos’s Alhambra is kind of all over the place rhythmically and melodically, but when it ventures into purely atmospheric territory, it has an appropriately haunting quality that is hard to deny.

Artistic Director Martin Sauer and engineer Rene Moller recorded the music at the Grande salle Pierre Boulez, Philharmonie de Paris, France in September 2019. It’s nicely done, with the addition of a little hall ambience to heighten the realism. A moderate sense of depth helps, too, as does a wide frequency range and some pretty decent dynamics (with hefty bass wallops). It makes for a very smooth, detailed, and welcome recording.

JJP

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