The Renaissance Players do folk and pop from Medieval times to the 1970s, in ‘British Birds, Beasts and Bards’. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Legendary Romanian pop singer Maria Tanase brought to life in a groundbreaking multimedia performance. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

How the countertenor, who started out as an actor, found his voice singing baroque opera’s shadier characters. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

A week after her passing at 110, a documentary on the Holocaust survivor wins Hollywood’s top award. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Leading soprano withdraws at a month’s notice claiming that Margueritte is “not right” for her. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Listeners needn’t worry, the publicity assures us: Baroque specialist Simone Kermes might be singing bel canto but she hasn’t changed voice type. Nor would she need to. There’s no reason why Kermes’ high flying soprano shouldn’t negotiate the trills and roulades of Bellini and Rossini just as skilfully as those of Handel. In terms of clarity and accuracy, she’s in excellent form here, and those who’ve seen her wacky live performances on YouTube will be either relieved or disappointed (according to taste) to discover her in more straight-laced mode. Curiously she sings these arias utterly without vibrato. This might be effective in short doses but applied across the board, it drains much of the life from this spirited music. Make no mistake, Kermes makes a beautiful sound; it just doesn’t ring true to the repertoire, and while she succeeds to an extent in illustrating the stylistic links between Baroque and bel canto, singing Rossini’s Giusto ciel like a piece of lost Pergolesi doesn’t really prove anything. Still, there’s some spectacular vocal showmanship here, including an electrifying Mercadante rarity and two icily precise Queen of the Night arias, and when Monteverdi finally arrives, so does an audible sense of homecoming. Concerto…

Harry Christophers’ current series of Palestrina recordings is very welcome. Given the esteem the composer is accorded not only by the Catholic church but by choristers the world over, it is very odd that there has been little sustained exploration of his output. Perhaps the sheer volume is daunting; with no fewer than 104 masses, let alone a vast corpus of other music besides. The latest instalment in The Sixteen’s cycle presents a Mass, a Magnificat and various other motets associated with the seasons of Advent and Christmas. In the middle of the program we are also given three of Palestrina’s settings from the Song of Songs. This generous selection is delivered with the group’s customary clarity and commitment, mirroring the counter-reformation ideals with which Palestrina is associated. Based on the motet of the same name, the Missa O magnum mysterium is an attractive five-voice work that shows great respect for the liturgical text, presenting sonorous and quietly fervent treatments of the Kyrie and Agnus Dei, while allowing Christmas joy to permeate the upbeat Osanna sections of the Sanctus and Benedictus. The Song of Songs has long had the notoriety of being the bible’s “naughty book”. Palestrina treated these erotic texts in a madrigalian…

When Heifetz told Schoenberg that he could not possibly perform the latter’s Violin Concerto unless his own left hand were to acquire a sixth finger, the composer allegedly replied: “I can wait.” Perhaps a similar sentiment governs the harpsichordist confronted with Handel’s decidedly tricky solo pieces. On paper they might not look overpoweringly difficult; but often they fall awkwardly under the hands, in a manner which Richard Egarr’s impressive booklet essay compares to Brahms’ pianistic style. At least the piano has a sustaining pedal to help out with polyphonic interplay (Glenn Gould, Sviatoslav Richter and Andrei Gavrilov all tackled these works). No such luck with the harpsichord. Besides, stylistic problems – greater than anything in Bach’s English Suites or French Suites – also bedevil the player. How Handelian should they seem, given that their free-and-easy preludes echo the French clavecinistes, and their intricate counterpoint passages do not resemble much in the oratorios or concerti grossi? Altogether it is unsurprising, if regrettable, that (except for everybody’s favourite movement, The Harmonious Blacksmith concluding Suite No 5) this music has been traditionally underestimated. Egarr’s curiously frivolous interpretations seem to me unlikely to win converts. The man has technical brilliance to burn, but he rarely…

Benjamin Britten’s three string quartets are not the only works he wrote for this medium but they are certainly the most important, forming cornerstones of his compositional career. The First, composed in America in 1941, comes from the period when the young composer was still showing off his extraordinary technical prowess. The Second, which concludes with a 15-minute chaconne of Beethovenian depth, was written in the wake of Peter Grimes, while the Third, at the end of his life, quotes from his final opera Death in Venice. Thanks to the recent Britten centenary, several new recordings of his quartets are now on the market, including one by the Endellion Quartet (Warner Classics), and a two-disc set from the Emperor Quartet on the BIS label. The latter boasts detailed and polished performances, but the Takács players trump them in verve and emotional commitment. How well the Takács capture the intensity of the Second Quartet’s Vivace movement, or the power and grandeur of the Chacony’s closing bars. They miss a degree of introversion and nostalgia in the Third Quartet, where Britten – like his friend Shostakovich – uses the medium to make a highly personal statement, in this case one of farewell….

Such a coupling is unusual on CD these days. However, bearing in mind that Beethoven was influenced by the Mozart concerto, the juxtaposition is appropriate. Yevgeny Sudbin is talked of as one of the top pianists of the new century. I ran comparisons of his Beethoven with one of the benchmarks, the old Emil Gilels recording from 1954. I also chose a contemporary recording with François-Frédéric Guy on Naïve. In every way this new recording matches the Gilels. Sudbin’s evenly measured runs, with just enough lift in the middle of each phrase to keep the performances from sounding too academic, evinces a superb technique. Similarly his elegant and stylishly executed turns are almost cheeky as he exhibits the balance required between power and delicacy demanded from the best Beethoven performers. Guy is gentlemanly by comparison. The Mozart is notable for the balance between soloist and orchestra. If you think you can hear Beethoven coming through the Mozart at times, then so do I. The orchestra is on superb form. Vänskä is not simply an attentive accompanist, but a partner in these adventures. One can see why the Critics’ Circle gave Sudbin the 2013 Exceptional Young Talent award. It is sad…

Adam Fischer gave us a superb set of Haydn symphonies back in the 1990s and more recently some fine early Mozart operas recorded in Denmark where he has recorded these symphonies over the last seven years – now economically released as box set. His approach applies “historically informed performance practice” and he does his best to make his modern orchestra sound like a period band. I must admit that 20 years ago I would have happily embraced this approach but nowadays I miss the singing phrase and emotional gravitas of the much maligned old-school manner – George Szell proved that the 19th-century orchestra could play this music with clarity, bite AND romantic expression so it can be done! Here vibrato is eschewed and textures are lean and mean; I appreciate the delicate wisps of string sound and well projected wind playing but the period hard-stick timpani and braying horns grate on repetition. The brisk tempi and crisp accents generate a breathless excitement with details blurred instead of clearly enunciated. While the approach works in the early symphonies, rooted in their 18th century context, the later symphonies that look forward to the early romantic sound world are seriously short-changed. But then,…

Kasper Holten’s take on Tchaikovsky’s 'road not taken' romance hits home in a Royal Opera co-pro.