Beethoven: Piano Concertos 4 & 5 "Emperor" (CD review)

Nicholas Angelich, piano; Laurence Equilbey, Insula Orchestra. Erato 0190295634179.

I don't know how the rest of you keep up. American pianist Nicholas Angelich (b. 1970) has made some two dozen albums already, but the only things I could remember were his Brahms piano concertos, maybe because I reviewed them. In any case, he's been playing piano since the age of five and done concerts throughout the world, so all that practice apparently pays off. He's very good. Here, he presents Beethoven's last two piano concertos, Numbers 4 and 5.

When Beethoven was writing his nine symphonies, they seemed to become monumental in size and scope very fast with his third. But with his five piano concertos, they sort of built up incrementally, with No. 4 being impressively large and No. 5 being monumentally impressive. The album begins with No. 4 in G major, Op. 58, completed in 1806 (around time the composer wrote the Fourth Symphony and parts of the Fifth Symphony). Beethoven made the opening movement melodic, with the piano part often sounding improvisational. He then scored the slow movement for piano and strings, keeping it fairly poetic, with a slightly agitated orchestral accompaniment, leading quietly into the concluding Rondo: Vivace. With that, we get a passionate, tempestuous, rhythmic, stormy, yet graceful final movement; you name it, Beethoven threw it in.

Angelich's dexterity at the keyboard is on full display in the Fourth's opening movement. He nimbly glides through the music, making it all seem effortless. He uses a Pleyel piano from 1892, a good compromise between what Beethoven might have heard in his own lifetime and what we have today, and the orchestra tries to remain true to the spirit of Beethoven. The piano resonates clearly and richly, if perhaps not quite as smoothly as a modern instrument. Anyway, Angelich makes the whole concerto sound full of strength and élan, meaning he makes the work appear both extemporaneous and elegant at the same time. His playing is filled with a vigorous energy and a lyrical polish, with maybe a greater emphasis on the former, especially in the fleet-footed finale.

Nicholas Angelich

Beethoven wrote his Piano Concerto No. 5 in E Flat, Op. 73, "Emperor," in 1809, premiering it in 1811 and dedicating it to the Archduke Rudolf, his patron and student at the time. The piece begins with a big, bravura Allegro, the piano entering immediately. In the central Adagio we get one of the Beethoven's loveliest melodies, a brief duet between piano and orchestra. Then there is a hushed transition into the final Rondo: Allegro, which takes the concerto to a glowing conclusion. Beethoven intended No. 5 to sound monumental, as I've said, although the smallish size of the Insula Orchestra (about forty-six players) under conductor Laurence Equilbey tends to make it more transparent than plush or weighty. Still, it holds its own.

Angelich's high-octane delivery is well suited to the first movement of the Fifth Concerto, even if it tends to dominate the orchestra more so than usual. Conductor and pianist keep the tempos on the urgent but not strident side, making for some exciting moments in the first and third movements. As for the beautifully meditative middle movement, it's fine, even if it's not as beautiful as Wilhelm Kempf's (DG) or as meditative as Stephen Kovacevich's (Philips). Angelich seems a little too matter of fact by comparison.

Producer Laure Casenave-Pere and engineer Thomas Dappelo recorded the concertos at La Seine Musicale, Boulogne-Billancourt, Paris, France in March 2018. The sound of the piano and orchestra is generally refined and well balanced, if both appear a touch close. The highs are slightly rough, perhaps due to the closeness of the miking. Nevertheless, I particularly liked the realistic reproduction of the piano, which recreates a lifelike illusion. While the stereo width is more than adequate, the perception of depth is somewhat limited, making things not only a tad close but one-dimensional as well.

JJP

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

Milhaud: Symphonies Nos. 1 and 4 (CD review)

Alun Francis, Radio-Sinfonieorchester Basel. CPO 999 539-2.

The French composer and conductor Darius Milhaud (1892-1974) wrote his Symphony No. 1, Op. 210 in 1939, at the beginning of the Second World War. He was nearly fifty years old at the time and had never written a complete symphony before. While he did not give the symphony a set program, the listener can infer freely from its varied material a possible scenario. The opening movement is light, pastoral, free, and easygoing. It calls to mind the lull before the storm, the peace before the War. The second movement opens boisterously, perhaps representing the War itself. The third movement is slow and serious but with little sense of danger; maybe wishful thinking. Then the finale brings us back to the martial music of the second movement and returns to a relaxed conclusion, possibly Milhaud anticipating a speedy resolution and end to hostilities. Or not. Certainly, he couldn't have anticipated the horrors to come.

Alun Francis

In the next twenty years, Milhaud would go on to write a dozen more symphonies. The Fourth Symphony, Op. 281 is decidedly programmatic, the composer having been commissioned by the French Minister of Education to write a piece based on the one-hundredth anniversary of the Revolution of 1848. Each movement represents a phase in the Revolution, bringing contrasting styles and tempi to a sound picture of vivid contrasts.

Both symphonies are pleasing to the ear, much different from the composer's earlier, more experimental works. Maestro Alun Francis and the Basel Radio Symphony Orchestra bring both joy and despair to the pieces as they require and generally sets up a stately presence throughout. Neither work is particularly striking, yet Francis does a pretty good job bringing out their more imaginative and pictorial qualities. The orchestra likewise sounds good, although the sound it produces appears a tad undernourished compared to, say, the Berlin Philharmonic or Concertgebouw orchestras. Nevertheless, the ensemble displays a fine athleticism and flies through the musical scores with a fair degree of poise.

Miked at a moderate distance, the CPO album, recorded in 1995 and released in 1998, offers the listener a reasonably accurate facsimile of a real symphony orchestra. There is a realistic hall ambiance, a good stage depth, a modest frequency and dynamic range, and as much orchestral detail as we might expect from perhaps a fifteenth row seat or thereabouts. It is a not a recording to wow an audiophile or knock the socks off a neophyte; it just sounds like a large ensemble of players performing in your living room. I say good enough.

JJP

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

Kawarsky: Spoon Hanging from My Nose (CD review)

The Music of J.A. Kawarsky. Various orchestras and conductors. Navona Records NV6194.

If you are like me, you may not be familiar with the name of American composer, conductor, and music professor Jay A. Kawarsky (b. 1959). However, the title and cover art for this first album devoted entirely to his compositions and arrangements, "Spoon Hanging from My Nose," was too hard to resist.

Perhaps Kawarsky's most famous composition, Prayers for Bobby, premiered in 1996 with actress Marlo Thomas narrating and has been performed many times since. Unfortunately, it is not among the pieces on the present album. Nevertheless, it was a fortuitous decision on my part to take a chance and listen to the disc; the music it presents is pleasing, creative, and diverting.

The program consists of four major Kawarsky selections. The first is called Fastidious Notes for solo alto saxophone and chamber orchestra, here performed by Jonathan Helton, alto sax, and the Chicago Arts Orchestra led by Javier Mendoza. As Kawarsky wrote the piece for saxophonist Helton, we have to imagine Helton's interpretation being definitive. It's certainly authoritative and immaculately played. In fact, the whole work is easily accessible, and, as Kawarsky notes, if there are any hints of other composers in the music, well, imitation is the highest form of flattery.

The second item is the longest, a series of eighteen selections: the Brahms Liebeslieder Waltzes, originally written in 1868-69 for vocal quartet and piano four hands and here orchestrated by Kawarsky for multiple voices (the Arizona Choir) and ten instruments. These pieces are really quite beautiful, quite lyrical and lilting renditions, and Brahms is, after all, Brahms. It's charming.

J.A. Kawarsky

The third item on the agenda is called And We All Waited, written for orchestra alone. Kawarsky calls it a reaction to the lack of any new legislation or regulation after the Sandy Hook Elementary School shootings. The Moravian Philharmonic Orchestra performs the work under the direction of Maestro Petr Vronsky. Again Kawarsky provides hints of other composers, in this case he says Nielsen, Shostakovich, and Reicha, but I also hear Sibelius in there. In any case. the music is not unexpectedly the most somber and earnest on the program. Still, it is easy to listen to because the composer eschews most of the modern conventions that drive audiences to distraction, even Kawarsky's work does get a tad raucous at times.

The final item Kawarsky titled Episodes for piano and orchestra, and it celebrates the 75th anniversary of Westminster Choir College of Rider University, New Jersey. It is performed by the Saint Petersburg State Symphony Orchestra, with Vladimir Lande, conductor, and Peter Laul. piano. It has kind of a jazzy beat, all up-tempo and rhythmic in the opening section and alternating with a more-serene landscape as the piece goes on. The most obvious borrowing the composer incorporates here is from Mussorgsky, and it works nicely. The soloist and orchestra afford the whole work a dignified presentation.

Producers John Page, Brad Michel, Vit Muzik, Alexei Barashkin, and Bob Lord, with engineers John McCartney, Brad Michel, Ales Dvorak, Jan Kosulic, and Alexei Barashkin recorded the music at Nichols Concert Hall, Chicago; Tucson Symphony Center, Tucson, AZ; Reduta Hall, Olomouc, Czech Republic; and Studio 1, House of Radio, St. Petersburg, Russia in 2016-2018.

The various producers and engineers recorded each of the selections in different venues with differing ensembles, so there are some small, inevitable differences in sound. Overall, though, the sonics are smooth and fairly dynamic, with good depth and width qualities. While the opening solo piano is a bit too close for ultimate realism, it helps the performance by emphasizing the instrument. (The closing piano is better balanced.) The choir in the waltzes sounds particularly appealing, since so often choir recordings can be overly bright or edgy. This one is very lifelike. Detailing is a tad on the soft side yet pleasing on the ear, especially as the high end is so well extended. Perhaps not absolute audiophile, but close enough.

Besides, as I say, the album title is hard to resist.

JJP

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