“Too much beer and bread,” said Paul Dukas about the music of Johannes Brahms, and certainly there have been some who have found the contrapuntal density of the Viennese master an inhibition. It would be a churlish listener, however, who could apply this prejudice to the violin sonatas, packed as they are with gentle lyricism,
 memorable melody and plenty 
of fresh air between the notes.
These three works, written over 
a ten-year period, show Brahms
 at his sunniest and have attracted distinguished interpreters. This 
latest CD features British violinist
 Anthony Marwood and his Serbian
 partner, pianist Aleksandar Madžar, recorded live at London’s Wigmore Hall. The duo recently delighted Australian audiences on their national tour for Musica Viva and so this CD is doubly welcome. The G Major Sonata here receives one of
 the loveliest readings I can recall, Marwood’s silvery tone spinning a continuous line with numerous inspired touches. A violinist with 
a lighter touch yields riches and offers greater flexibility than those who opt for melody at the expense of a more engaging conversational tone. The outer movements capture Brahms’s magical Viennese lilt and the poignant Adagio is especially memorable, its mellow song wistfully tugging at the heart. Madžar here……

Despite the academic narrative that suggests opposing aesthetics, the pairing of the Brahms and Berg Violin Concertos makes perfect historical sense, Berg’s anguished tribute In Memory of an Angel 
to Alma Mahler’s daughter, who died aged just 18, representing a logical extension of the late Romantic sensibility from which the Second Viennese School took its lead. But French violinist Renaud Capuçon’s performance of the two works, conducted by fellow 30-something Daniel Harding with the Vienna Philharmonic, almost makes Brahms sound postmodern compared with the merely “modern” Berg, courtesy of the vastly different characters that he brings to each of its three movements. Technically excellent throughout, the first movement of the Brahms faffs about interpretively for nearly its entire 22-minute duration, not really engaging the emotions, until the Kreisler cadenza (so much spikier and self-conscious than the usual
 Joachim one) suddenly resolves into the most sublime conclusion imaginable. The slow movement then continues in the same
 vein, making it a candidate for a standalone Swoon compilation. Then the finale sounds like it’s had its structure rearranged by Picasso in his cubist phase, passages of clashing genres and rhythmic gear shifts being emphasised (à la Boulez with Mahler) rather than reconciled. And……

In an industry said to be in more or less dire straits by various sources, I’m amazed that a small boutique label like Oehms can afford to issue two recordings of Mahler’s Resurrection symphony with different conductors and orchestras. Simone Young’s Hamburg recording followed
 hot on the heels of Markus Stenz’s Cologne effort. Now, here is another Markus Stenz live performance with the Melbourne Symphony, of which he was chief conductor. Stenz proved his credentials as a Mahler conductor during his slow-release cycle a few years ago. This performance dates from December 2004. I don’t know why it’s taken almost a decade to reach us. That said, I enjoyed this traversal. It’s quite different from Simone Young’s: more volatile, with a much greater range of tempos and moods. Occasionally, I felt he skated over details in the first movement and the phrasing risked sounding perfunctory. (Perhaps ironically, this version is overall about four minutes longer than Young’s.) The Minuet movement is commendably unsentimental
 but the Scherzo is taken too 
fast for it to register its sardonic and demonic quality. Both Stenz’s soloists, mezzo-soprano Bernadette Cullen and soprano Elizabeth Whitehouse, seem more comfortable than their Hamburg counterparts. Also, in the Urlicht…

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On the eve of her Decca solo album debut, the gifted Russian soprano talks Kiri, competitions and coloratura. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

What a journey is traversed in Schubert’s nine symphonies, from the adolescent pomposity of the opening flourish of the First, through the genuine drama of the Fifth and onto the pure, unadulterated inspiration of the final two. And along the way are the under-appreciated gems, the Third in particular that, please forgive me, beats hands- down anything that Mozart or Mendelssohn had written in the symphonic form by the same age of barely 20. No wonder so many of the great conductors have had a crack at the complete set, and let’s just list von Karajan, Böhm, Barenboim, Muti, Abbado and Harnoncourt for starters, not to mention the Peter Maag LP-era and the Jos van Immerseel sets. So Marc Minkoswki and Les Musiciens du Louvre Grenoble are mixing it with the big boys in this new boxed set recorded live in March 2012 in Vienna’s Konzerthaus. Good thing they know what they’re doing. Using the same technique they applied to Haydn’s London Symphonies, the 30-year-old French group performed the entire series in a week and recorded the lot, the upshot of the spontaneity being some really exciting performances, and the downside being the occasional ouch-moment when the period instruments… Continue…

A live, period-instrument Schubert cycle that takes risks. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Hopping from label to label, Alan Curtis and his ensemble Il Complesso Barocco have managed to notch up an arsenal of Handel opera recordings, alternating between the composer’s more familiar works – Ariodante, Alcina and Rodelinda – and lesser-known gems such as Floridante and Ezio. Now the group has tackled what is
arguably Handel’s greatest stage
work, Giulio Cesare in Egitto. The
 cast, even by Curtis’s luxurious
 standards, is remarkable. Marie-
Nicole Lemieux’s billowing, 
fruity contralto is gripping in the 
title role, whether she’s singing up
 a storm of coloratura (her Empio, diró
 is fabulously ferocious) or basking in
 the reverential stillness of Alma del gran Pompeo, delivered not only with exceptional breath control and tonal beauty, but with moving sincerity. Indeed, that sense of sincerity underpins every performance in this recording. Karina Gauvin’s Cleopatra – one of Handel’s most varied and challenging female roles – is also sensationally sung (Gauvin’s full-bodied, opalescent soprano is one of the finest of its type) and delicately characterised, from the flirtatiousness of Venere bella to a poignant Se pietà and a breathtaking Da tempeste. While this dynamic duo might on its own make a triumph of this set, they’re well matched by their colleagues. Romina Basso’s…

What is it about the key of D Minor? Think of the mighty Toccata and Fugue in that key we ascribe to Bach, or Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. There seems to be something monumental embedded in the DNA of this key that speaks to us of life and death, of the meaning of our existence. Enterprising programmers at the City of London Festival in 2011 used D Minor to forge an interesting musical link between Bach’s solo Violin Partita No 2 and the Fauré Requiem. Obviously the Requiem is
 concerned with death, but research presented with this disc suggests 
that the outsize Ciacona with which Bach concluded the Partita is a memorial for his first wife Maria Barbara, who died suddenly at Cöthen in 1720 while Bach was away with his patron, Prince Leopold in Karlsbad. Professor Helga Thoene further suggests that the whole partita is based on a series of chorales (inaudible to the listener) and has the secret theme of death and resurrection. To prove this theory, violinist Gordan Nikolitch performs the Partita interleaved with apposite chorales sung by Tenebrae.
 In the concluding Ciacona the forces join together to create an atmospheric, if not wholly convincing musical hybrid. The…

Those who are familiar with pianist Simon Tedeschi’s artistry will realise that Gershwin and the pianist go back a long way. (In fact, he made his debut with Graham Lyell in the concert band version of Rhapsody in Blue at the tender age of twelve.) Not only is it central to his performance schedules; he plays it in different guises, (he’s been heard in all of the arrangements of Rhapsody in Blue from solo
piano and piano with percussion
to jazz band and Ferde Grofé’s
familiar 1942 version for full
orchestra.) The major question
arising from all of this is why has
taken Tedeschi so long to record
this material, which he describes as
“the accompaniment to my life and musical career”? Given the uniform mastery of these performances, it must be agreed that this project has been worth the wait. As early as the second selection on the disc, the gorgeous trilogy of blues-inflected Preludes, it is apparent that this is a Gershwin interpreter who can hold his own against anyone in the catalogue. Tedeschi has the full measure of these short but often elusive pieces and, as elsewhere in this remarkable recital, goes a long way towards proving
that it is no longer considered necessary to be……

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On the eve of his latest Australian performances we catch up with the globe-trotting gambist. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in