Joshua Bell’s first disc of sonatas with Sony is well worth the wait. At its centre is the ever-popular sonata by Franck, alongside works by Saint-Saëns and Ravel. Both Bell and his accompanist friend Jeremy Denk revel in the ever-changing impressionistic colours of harmony and timbre that this repertory evokes and demands. There is plenty of Gallic flair in the Franck, and the tension between stasis and forward movements is finely judged, resulting in some exhilarating climaxes. The interweaving of major and minor elements in the famous finale are beautifully pointed by the violin and expertly underpinned by the piano. Bell’s judicious but unashamed use of sweet tone and sweeping portamenti is entirely appropriate. Saint-Saëns’s sonata is immediately appealing, with an imposing opening movement full of fire and passion succeeded by some improvisatory languor and concluding with an elegant, high-spirited finale with a dash of gypsy fiddling thrown in. By contrast, the worldly sophistication of Ravel gives Bell a chance to display some other colours, especially in the Blues movement where the violin is by turns banjo strummer or jazz chanteuse. Bell and Denk face steep competition in the Franck; this splendid trio of sonatas makes a winning proposition. Continue…

Like me, you may have found yourself glued to the telly last April to watch the latest royal wedding. Like me, your ears may have been glued in particular to a short choral work that was sung during the ceremony. That piece was Ubi caritas by Paul Mealor, who has been described by the New York Times as “one of the most important composers to have emerged in Welsh choral music since William Mathias”. Your familiarity or otherwise with Mathias should not inform your opinion of Mealor, as his is an impressive talent. This CD features not only the little wedding gem but an entire collection of the composer’s work for choir and it’s mostly very strong. The opening quadrant of madrigals Now sleeps the crimson petal features gorgeously subtle twists of harmony and Salvator mundi tempers strident modal declamations with memorable ornamentations. However the disc dips a bit with the Stabat Mater, which tends to cycle through clichés to simplistic emotional effect (Mealor describes this as the “most personal work on the disc”, which may be revealing). Perhaps the reason Mealor has become the royals’ latest go-to composer is that he’s such a known quantity; each… Continue reading Get unlimited…

Richard Tognetti and the ACO are in sparkling form in this wonderfully enjoyable program of Grieg. The major work here is Tognetti’s skilful transcription of String Quartet No 1 in G minor, Op 27, the composer’s only extant complete work in the genre. Digging into the almost Piazzolla-like rhythms of the opening movement, the band delivers a zesty account of this colourful score. The contrasting episodes of the Romanze and the Intermezzo are handled deftly, while the concluding Saltarello has an almost manic intensity. By way of contrast we are then offered the Two Elegiac Melodies, Op 34. These popular but all too brief works are played superbly; their aching melancholy lit by beauty of tone and delicacy of ensemble. Erotikk from the Lyric Pieces is a scintillating miniature, more nostalgic than sensual, sensitively arranged by Tognetti for solo violin and orchestra. What better way to finish than with the Holberg Suite? At pains to preserve the dance-like quality of Grieg’s neo-Baroque masterpiece, the orchestra achieves a perfect blend of energy and lightness throughout. Admirable rhythmic acuity characterises the Praeludium, the courtly intimacy of the Sarabande contrasts well with the crisply accented Gavotte. The fervent Air, with its… Continue reading…

A saltarello is a medieval dance named for its leaping steps (“little hop” in Italian). One might wonder why this meditative, atmospheric album takes a lively dance form as its title when there is only one specimen on the program. In fact it’s the three players who do the jumping – across nine centuries of music, and between Garth Knox’s rustic medieval fiddle, seven-string viola d’amore and modern viola. He switches weapons seamlessly from one track to the next and demonstrates poetic phrasing and technical mastery with all three. Hildegard von Bingen’s Ave, generosa is the earliest music heard here, echoing through time in a vibrato-less, double-stopped fiddle version capturing both soaring chant and drone. A yearning vocal quality resonates throughout this inspired instrumental program, from lilting variations on the folksong Black is the Colour of my True Love’s Hair to Dowland’s Flow My Tears and Purcell’s Music for a While, unerringly matched in mood by Agnès Vesterman’s nuanced cello basslines. Hearing such timeless songs in Knox’s arrangements is to hear them as if they were always intended for these instruments. Curiously, the only work originally scored for viola d’amore, Vivaldi’s concerto RV393, is the least convincing for… Continue reading…

Bernard Herrmann’s reputation as a composer rests with his movie scores for Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock, but he also wrote several concert works. The dramatic cantata Moby Dick for two soloists, male chorus and large orchestra was composed between 1936 and 1938, before Herrmann’s film work began in earnest. Melville’s existential novel had long been the composer’s obsession, but today it is difficult to buy into the tale of Captain Ahab’s struggle with the great white whale. I confess my own opinion of whaling, namely that it is a barbaric and disgusting practice, colours my appreciation of the piece. (The novel is famously impenetrable.) Herrmann’s score is dramatic and skilfully orchestrated, befitting a born film composer, with tension deftly maintained throughout the work’s 46 minutes. On the downside there is a dearth of memorable thematic material, and the occasional use of Sprechstimme gives the work a dated radio-play quality.  Michael Schønwandt and his Danish forces could not make a better case for Moby Dick. The orchestra and chorus are distinguished by tightness of ensemble and commitment to the drama. The soloists show a similar level of involvement – Wilson-Johnson’s shout of “Death to Moby Dick!”… Continue reading Get unlimited…

Plenty of hype arrives with this release from young Polish pianist Rafal Blechacz, but little detail. My Internet trawling reveals that he was born in 1985, and at the age of 20 won all five sections of the Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw. He so impressed the judges that they awarded no second prize. Blechacz has recorded three previous discs for Deutsche Grammophon, of Chopin Preludes and concertos, and sonatas by Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven. Here he gives us a recital of early 20th-century French and Polish music. In the accompanying note Blechacz sites Michelangeli as his idol in Debussy, but his playing strikes me as less soft-edged than that of the mighty Italian. There is a crispness to the Toccata from Pour le piano, and a bell-like ping to the pentatonic peals of Pagodes from the Estampes suite, that bring to mind his older Polish compatriot Krystian Zimermann. High praise indeed. Blechacz’s fluidity and supreme dynamic control are astonishing, and he shows attention to fine detail. He can also produce a full tone, as in the radiant climax to L’Isle joyeuse, without it turning clangourous. He is equally fine in the Szymanowski pieces, but… Continue reading Get unlimited digital…

This year marks the 300th anniversary of the birth of that gifted flautist, composer and enlightened patron of the arts, King Frederick the Great of Prussia. To celebrate, Emmanuel Pahud presents a 2-CD set of works by the glittering circle of musicians that Frederick gathered about him in Berlin. He kicks off with what is probably the most impressive work on the disc, one of CPE Bach’s most magnificent concertos, which shows the forward-looking qualities that make him the most interesting composer of the period. We then have charming works by Benda, Quantz and a promising example by the royal master himself. All are delightful. The second CD is even better, its more intimate chamber works ranging from a Trio Sonata from JS Bach’s Musical Offering through to two compelling sonatas from Bach’s eldest son. Frederick’s contribution is complemented by that of his (more talented?) sister, Anna Amalia, Princess of Prussia. It goes without saying that Pahud, principal flautist with the Berlin Philharmonic, shines throughout and although he eschews a period instrument his style is perfectly tempered to the performance practice of the day. The Kammerakademie Potsdam provides spirited support, led by the excellent Trevor… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access…

In 1960, Italian pianist Maurizio Pollini won the International Chopin Piano Competition. EMI instantly took him to the recording studio, where he made a famous recording of Chopin’s E-Minor Piano Concerto with conductor Paul Kletzki. It has never left the catalogue. As music lovers and recording executives began rubbing their hands in anticipation, Pollini recorded the two sets of Chopin Études – but the young artist was not ready to be drawn into this whirlwind. Further sessions produced personality clashes, and Pollini abandoned recording for ten years. Eventually he signed an exclusive contract with Deutsche Grammophon. At Pollini’s insistence the EMI Études were never released. Fifty years later the recording is in the public domain and makes its debut, newly remastered from Testament. The stress and the arguments are ancient history. What remains is the brilliance of a young virtuoso in pieces that are designed to show off keyboard prowess: not only speed and accuracy but also the pianist’s way with legato (a melting Étude Op 25 No 1). This is very good 1960 piano sound. The instrument is recorded in close-up, as opposed to the concert hall acoustic Pollini has favoured since. Close scrutiny is… Continue reading Get unlimited…

I dimly recall a Decca release in the early 1970s of Ashkenazy in the Rachmaninov Suite No 1 (Fantasie Tableau for two pianos, Op 5) with André Previn. I doubt whether it could have had more charm than this performance from Vladimir and his son Vovka. The rapport between the two pianists is seemingly effortless in drawing the listener into this magical music. I particularly responded to the gentle swirling effects of the introductory barcarolle and to the alternating intensity and ravishing lyricism of the central two movements, La Nuit, L’Amour (“Night…Love”) and Les larmes, (“Tears”). Night on the Bald Mountain doesn’t have quite the same spellbinding quality. I found the staccato passages a little relentless, although there’s clearly no other way to play them. Glinka’s Valse-Fantasie lends itself perfectly to duo piano treatment. It could have been penned by Tchaikovsky at his most melancholy.  Wonderful as they are, not even the spectacular virtuosity and chemistry of these two pianists can replicate the colour, glamour and visceral excitement of the orchestral version of Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor. The Scriabin Fantasy in A Minor is somewhat more structured and less amorphous than so much of his… Continue reading Get unlimited digital…

It was only a matter of time before Stephen Hough, already the soloist of highly acclaimed Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky concerto cycles, added his name to the list of those who have recorded three of the most popular piano concertos of all time. Can any new insights be garnered here? With Hough, nothing is ever formulaic. His most successful offering is the Second Concerto of Liszt. Andrew Litton constantly propels the music forward, while allowing for plenty of poetry to emerge in the slow movement. Put next to Richter’s mercurial 1961 accounts of the Liszt concertos with the London Symphony under Kirill Kondrashin, Hough seems rather earthbound at the start of the First Concerto. Things improve as the work progresses though, with his beautifully limpid slow movement and a strong finale. Grieg’s hometown orchestra serves him well in his concerto, with some spirited brass playing and refined string work. Hough is quite attentive to detail, but never loses sight of the bigger Romantic picture. This is an account free of gimmicks that gives a wonderful balance of introversion and extroversion. In an overcrowded field, this disc may not be quite at the top of the… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access…

What a delightful disc. Or should I not use that adjective? It is, after all, a fallback response to the hideous tie you get from your auntie at Christmas. How about: relaxing? Or invigorating? All these epithets apply to the two early concertante works that Abbado and his handpicked Orchestra Mozart give us here. The performances seem to have been recorded during a tour (along with others in the same Mozart series): two venues are given for the Sinfonia Concertante, although whether the recordings are live is unclear. It doesn’t matter; the playing is exemplary and there is no discernible audience noise. Notable contributions are made by all the soloists. In the Sinfonia Concertante I was most taken with the clarinet of Alessandro Carbonare and the oboe of Lucas Macías Navarro, both musicians characterful and wonderfully accurate. In the Concerto for Flute and Harp the two soloists play as one, and flautist Jacques Zoon’s silvery tone is beautifully caught in the airy acoustic of the Haydn Auditorium in Bolzano. It is a tone we know well: Zoon was first flute of the Concertgebouw Orchestra under Chailly, the Berlin Philharmonic under Abbado, then the Boston Symphony. Abbado sets perfect… Continue reading Get…

Recent years have seen a renaissance of interest in the solo trumpet with a good handful of players reaching out beyond the Haydn and Hummel to explore more challenging contemporary repertoire. Philippe Shartz ensured a limited market for his brave foray by including Birtwistle’s demanding Endless Parade on his excellent Chandos album, but here Alison Balsom plays a safer hand with equal success in a program of edgy yet approachable “modern” works. The appetiser and title work is James MacMillan’s Seraph, a piece dedicated to Balsom, which wittily misquotes the opening of the Haydn concerto before taking us on an involving neo-classical journey. The main course, however, is a pair of tangy, postwar works from either side of the iron curtain. The Arutiunian concerto with its attractive Armenian inflections has had several outings on CD and here proves as engaging as ever. The discovery for me was the 15-minute rhapsody by the German composer Bernd Alois Zimmermann. Like Tippett in A Child Of Our Time, Zimmermann uses a spiritual, in this case Nobody Knows De Trouble I See as a metaphor for the need for racial understanding. It’s a beautiful work, as finely calculated as a Hopper painting and like……