Schubert’s final collection of songs, compiled posthumously under the title Schwanengesang, may not trace a narrative journey as unified as those mapped out in Winterreise or Die schöne Müllerin, but the most perceptive interpreters create a dramatic arc all of their own. The final disc in Mark Padmore and Paul Lewis’s triptych of the great Schubert song cycles finds them as emotionally attuned to the music and to one another as in previous volumes. Few tenors can give such potent voice to the bitterness Schubert poured into the lieder of his final year, but Padmore’s engagement with the text (well-rounded diction with plenty of “ch” in the “ach”!) and variety of tone place him among the best. His is a light instrument, but never lightweight – just listen to him bemoan carrying a world of sorrow on his shoulders in Atlas. Although he has developed a wide, almost braying vibrato in recent years, this actually works in his favour here, adding searing stabs of melodic intensity. And he can still rein it in for a warm, pure line, as he does when gently enfolding us in the Serenade.  He could not have asked for a more steadfast, sensitive… Continue reading…

If this release was intended as a snapshot or showcase for the current state of the Sydney Symphony, it would zoom into the five-star category. The playing is some of the best I’ve ever heard from them. The felicities are too numerous to mention here, but I’ll cite the quadruple flute passage in the first movement development; the horns cover themselves with glory in the slow movement and Emma Matthews is fine in the finale, sounding innocent and then appropriately dreamy. Alas, a clear recommendation is not that simple – the playing and engineering are outstanding, but I’m still not convinced that Ashkenazy has anything especially interesting to say about Mahler. The first movement hums along well enough but lacks any lyrical intensity. I’m not suggesting Mengelbergian rubato pulling the music out of shape, but a slightly more varied pulse and more inflection would be welcome. The second movement effectively blends rustic awkwardness with a dark undercurrent (as with the equivalent movement in the Sixth Symphony, where it’s hard to tell whether the music depicts children at play or a sinister troupe of marionettes). The “Heaven’s Gate” climax in the adagio (relatively swift, like Klemperer’s) is well… Continue reading Get unlimited…

With highly regarded complete editions of Schubert’s and Schumann’s songs to their name, Hyperion has embarked on another such venture, this time recording all the lieder of Brahms. Angelika Kirchschlager and Graham Johnson inaugurated the series last year, and now soprano Christine Schäfer, also accompanied by Johnson, has made her contribution. More appealing, if hardly less cheerful, than its miserable cover photo, this recital shows Schäfer on top form, combining artistry with a crystal-clear voice. Her rather delicate soprano is at its loveliest in the ethereal Ophelia-Lieder and in the six folksongs which end the recital, but when expansiveness is required – as in the Mädchenfluch – she’s quite compelling. Schäfer’s bright, compact soprano is not one in which to luxuriate: her word painting is excellent, but her palette is inherently limited, and there’s a certain whiteness to the voice which occasionally grows wearying, particularly in such a stylistically similar program. But her sweetness of timbre and her textual acuity usually win out in the end, and she has a gift for capturing the emotional vicissitudes of this often turbulent poetry – the intense, sometimes erotic Mädchenlieder (not written as a cycle, but evidently envisaged by the… Continue reading Get unlimited…

No one can yearn like a Russian. Rachmaninov’s Third Symphony has yearning aplenty. Beneath the suave, almost louche, art deco glamour – clearly influenced by his years in the United States – there lies an undercurrent of nostalgia for Mother Russia. I believe it was Jascha Heifetz who once described Rachmaninov’s Piano Trio as “silk underwear music”. It was probably one of those you-had-to-be-there moments but in listening to this gorgeous score, I think I know what he meant. My favourite moment is the first movement’s second subject, which sidles in with cellos wafting above woodwind melismas. Gianandrea Noseda’s finesse in letting the music unfold naturally and seductively enhances its beauty. It’s hard not to fall back on that overworked adjective “elusive” to describe the kaleidoscopic, mercurial moods of this symphony. The central movement, with its plangent horn calls and swooning harp and then its strange sudden lurch into a scherzo is just as haunting. The finale is a 20th-century take on a Russian dance. The BBC Philharmonic is in top form in all departments and Noseda allows every strand of melody to shine through in what can only be described as a luminous recording.  The two… Continue reading Get unlimited digital…

Palestrina’s name was synonymous with musical perfection even before his death in 1594, and his reputation as one of the great masters of late-Renaissance, post-Tridentine church polyphony is still as great as it ever was. The Sixteen’s name could equally be said to be synonymous with musical perfection, and the UK choir’s recordings of English, Spanish and Italian Renaissance masterpieces are prized for their combination of passion and precision. This first volume in a projected series dedicated to a selection of Palestrina’s 104 masses and great motet cycle of the biblical Song of Songs takes as its theme the Assumption of the Virgin Mary into heaven. The centrepiece is the Missa Assumpta Est Maria; also included are a selection of shorter works such as the motet on which the mass is based and three of the Song of Songs most closely associated with Marian devotion. The performances are, as one would expect, first-rate, and an antidote to the sometimes bloodless approach to this music by The Tallis Scholars. Palestrina’s music moves swiftly and seamlessly between densely woven yet sharply delineated polyphony and rich homophony; furthermore, each part hovers or trembles, drops in or out, plunges or soars according… Continue reading…

An outstanding debut for spirited young guitarist, Zane Banks.

Were it not for those vastly entertaining orchestral works which form the composer’s Roman Triptych, we might know little more about him than we do about his less illustrious contemporaries Malipiero, Casella and Pizetti. Colourful explosions of orchestral brilliance such as The Fountains of Rome are what propelled the composer to public notice. What is most striking about the pieces on this CD is how unlike those famous works they are, in sound and style. In fact, apart from Rossiniana, which is reasonably well known, the other items on this album don’t sound like Respighi at all; nor do they sound particularly Italian. A good percentage of this music has been rescued by conductor Salvatore Di Vittorio, who is credited with completing some of the orchestrations. How much is down to him is difficult to ascertain from the notes. Clearly, he has reinvigorated works such as the Aria and Violin Concerto, completing the latter’s last movement – which the composer had barely begun. It is quite beautiful and well worth our attention, but don’t go expecting The Pines of Rome with violin obbligato. It is far more subdued and ruminative, and none the worse for that. The orchestral… Continue reading…

Christine Brewer is best known for her towering assumptions of Wagner and Richard Strauss’s most dramatic heroines. This charming new release by Hyperion finds the American soprano in a more intimate mode, however, paying tribute to the art of the recital encore as perfected by some of Brewer’s grandest predecessors – Kirsten Flagstad, Eileen Farrell, Helen Traubel and Eleanor Steber. Inspired by her teacher, who had heard all these ladies in recital and collected their encores, Brewer brings warmth and affection to this varied selection of final flourishes. These songs, with their sentimental lyrics and often predictable musical forms (you’ll see the crescendi coming a mile off), might be an acquired taste for some, but for others they’ll be heartwarmingly familiar, and Brewer’s golden soprano and good humour should be difficult for even hardened cynics to resist. A program like this risks being too much of a good thing – there’s a reason, after all, that these songs were used as encores and not core repertoire – but the innate heft of Brewer’s voice more or less counterbalances the repertoire’s most sugary excesses, and the selection strikes a balance between showpieces and simple ballads. Roger Vignoles… Continue reading Get unlimited…

Circumstances financial and personal forced Herbert Howells to turn from his early career as a well-regarded rival of Vaughan Williams and Holst to dedicate himself almost exclusively to church music. Here he could create without being exposed to the public gaze of the concert hall, which he found unbearable. His early orchestral compositions are splendid but rarely heard; on the other hand his contribution to the Anglican liturgy is one of the most significant in post-WWII Britain. The content of this attractive CD attests to this. From the 1940s when he was organist at St John’s College Oxford, he began a course of composition for the church in a style that endures to this day. The Winchester Service exemplifies this perfectly, the Magnificat moving quietly to exalted heights; the setting of the Nunc dimittis more darkly hued than usual. Two of his organ works are placed between the choral offerings. I find them less distinguished but they work well within the program. This selection is from the latter part of the composer’s life. It includes settings of Jubilate Deo, Te Deum, and Exultate Deo. The performances are sensitive and robust, in the best English tradition. To hear… Continue reading Get…

Ingrid Fliter is an impressive Argentinian pianist who recently toured Australia. Following two acclaimed Chopin discs, her new recital of three of Beethoven’s Sturm und Drang sonatas is also something of a winner. Fliter plays Beethoven with an appropriately Classical demeanour. She limits the dynamic extremes and does not overdo the rubato, but within that spectrum she points detail and gets the balance right. The opening of her Pathétique is slow without being solemn, then bracingly fleet once the Allegro begins. The lovely slow movement is meltingly played. Fliter transforms the stop/start passages of the Tempest sonata’s first movement into episodes of genuine urgency and repose. This is a gripping performance. The Appassionata poses a greater challenge, both emotionally and technically. In spite of her easy flowing pianism, which takes every technical hurdle in its stride, I fear Fliter often settles for a generalised sound here – big and loud, or slow and soft as the case may be –  whereas Paul Lewis, whose Appassionata is one the best recordings in his Beethoven survey, maps the emotional contours of this forward-looking work with unwavering focus, making something unique and specific of every moment. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per…

I’ve always found Richard Strauss’s character a real mystery: a smug, rather banal bourgeois with a narcissistic streak, he wrote sublime music which itself often teeters on the edge of banality. I enjoyed this Heldenleben but, at 47 minutes, the hero, while not exactly an arthritic Colonel Blimp, isn’t a young buck full of rising sap, either. This is surprising, considering Yannick Nézet-Séguin is one of the most athletic conductors around today. The opening lacks the self-confident swagger that Beecham brought to it for EMI (at the age of 80). In the second movement, the “battle” rages effectively enough, although I can never escape the feeling that Mahler depicts his critics far more bitingly in the Rondo burlesque of his Ninth Symphony. Strauss’s wife Pauline, a granite-jawed termagant in real life, comes across relatively sympathetically in the extended (and ravishingly played) violin solo of the third movement. The ending, depicting the hero’s retrospective contemplation, is simply too slow, although the Rotterdam Philharmonic’s horns are glorious. The orchestra, which plays well throughout, also sounds very distant and was recorded at a curiously low level. I’d prefer any of Karajan’s readings, or Fritz Reiner’s legendary RCA one. The… Continue reading Get unlimited…

Argentinean cellist Sol Gabetta was named Gramophone Young Artist of the Year in 2010, but she had turned heads internationally as one to watch even before the release of the Vivaldi Project album in 2007, her first foray into Baroque music played on gut strings. On that recording she opted for the Italian group Sonatori de la Gioiosa Marca but for this second instalment she has formed her own Cappella Gabetta. Ensemble playing in the opening Cello Concerto RV423 is crisp and clean bordering on dispassionate, but the Cappella perks up for the taut unison introduction to the G minor RV416, and in the final Allegro Gabetta dashes off rapid virtuosic passages with brio and finesse. She is equally at ease with the gold-spun cantabile lines of the RV420 Andante. The bold Allegro doesn’t have the cracking pace of Han-Na Chang and the London Chamber Orchestra for EMI – as a result Gabetta’s intonation is more precise, her phrasing more subtle and expansive. The Sonata for Cello and Continuo RV42 breaks from the homogenous string orchestra sound for a sombre, more intimate setting, stylish and warm enough to leave me hoping for Gabetta’s Bach Cello Suites on… Continue reading Get…