An agile Helsinki Philharmonic under Storgårds perform convincingly on a sharp, high-quality recording.

Russian conductor Tugan Sokhiev’s recording of two Prokofiev symphonies and the Lieutenant Kijé Suite dates from his tenure as Music Director at the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin. Prokofiev composed the score for Lieutenant Kijé, an early Soviet ‘sound’ film in 1933, the satirical premise of which revolves around a non-existent lieutenant who nonetheless manages to achieve impressive life milestones. Lively, musically illustrative (military marches, sleigh rides) and totally accessible, it’s a perfect curtain-raiser for Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony, so called for its use of reconfigured Haydn-like forms. These indications also permeate Prokofiev’s Seventh and last symphony, presented here with its more usual reworked ending, which Prokofiev was persuaded by his friend Samuil Samosud (and substantial prize money) to amend from the sombre original (Gergiev’s 2004 recording with the LSO is an instructive comparison). The sophistication of Prokofiev’s orchestrations and Sokhiev’s deft touch are highlighted by this excellent recording, which is crisp and sharp, with a very full bottom end and full spectrum of percussive richness. The dynamic variation is sprightly and delicate but still loaded with drama, fairly leaping out of the speakers as a result. Sokhiev’s earlier Sony recording of Prokofiev’s Fifth Symphony was very well-received by critics; this companion set…

Storgårds and the BBC Phil do this never less than fascinating music proud.

Few works of classical music have been as momentous or as misunderstood as Liszt’s Faust Symphony. Premiered in Weimar in 1857 to inaugurate the Goethe–Schiller Monument, as if it wasn’t massive enough already, the composer revised his 75-minute musical monolith three years later, adding a Chorus Mysticus for male voices and tenor soloist to the finale ahead of a second performance. Hans von Bülow, who conducted it from memory on that occasion, later turned on the work. “I have given that nonsense a thorough going-over! It’s sheer rubbish, absolute non-music! I don’t know which was greater, my horror or my disgust!” he declared sourly, though by then Liszt’s daughter Cosima had abandoned him for the charms of Richard Wagner – nuff said. Though he pretended not to be, Wagner himself was hugely influenced by Liszt’s technique of thematic metamorphosis, a method reaches its apogee in this work. Cast in three movements – Faust, Gretchen and Mephistopheles – the opening motif representing Faust himself is the first known use of a whole 12 tone scale, half a decade before the doings of Schoenberg and his crew. But perhaps Liszt’s masterstroke is the way he invents no new themes for the devil, simply…

Jayson Gillham: Lion Tamer: The Aussie pianist takes on two fairly fearsome musical beasts and wins.

As with previous recordings by The Binchois Consort – such as Music for Henry V and the House of Lancaster – Music for the 100 Years’ War places a cappella sacred music in its historical context through a judicious mix of scholarship and speculation. The motivation in this case was to celebrate the 600th anniversary of the Battle of Agincourt on October 25, 1415. But as the consort’s director Andrew Kirkman and Philip Weller write in their detailed booklet note, “In doing so [the programme] also casts its net wider, embracing other aspects and events” of the war of which Agincourt “formed but one part – albeit a heroic and iconic part.” Here, therefore, are carols, motets and sections of masses which might have been performed during Henry V’s campaign by members of “an enormous retinue”, which included a fully functioning liturgical and musical chapel. Such is the quality of the music and the performances that one can be left in no doubt that the creativity which grew out of the greater culture of the time and nourished it in turn can be equally inspiring today. This is music that sounds as fresh as though it were written just yesterday…

S Bach composed his French Suites (or at least the first five) in 1722 for his second wife, Anna Magdalena, who used them for teaching. (They are in her “notebook”). These dance suites, showing all the composer’s contrapuntal skill, are less outgoing than the English Suites and Partitas, suggesting they were designed solely for domestic use and may in fact have been intended for the clavichord. Vladimir Ashkenazy, on this new recording, plays a concert grand. “I use few ornaments and don’t think of the sound of the harpsichord,” he writes. “What I try to do is play on what we have today, and make the combination of voices as clear as possible.” That he does, and produces some warm-toned pianism into the bargain. The Sarabandes, in particular those from Suites Nos 1 and 5, are sensitively caressed; the Gigue from Suite No 3 teeters excitingly on the edge. Ashkenazy turned 80 in July of this year, and has retired from public piano concertising due to arthritis, but this is barely hinted at in these 2016 recordings. The Courante from Suite No 5 would probably have been more fluent earlier in his career, but overall there is no doubting his…

If you’ve ever wondered why you’d never heard of Vaughan Williams’ keyboard music, you might find the answer in these well-performed examples by the excellent British pianist Mark Bebbington. It’s important to hear the full range of any great composer’s music, and Discoveries, recently reviewed in Limelight, brought us some of his unheard orchestral works. It’s wonderful music, hidden away for decades. But that is orchestral music, of which the composer was a master.The piano, being a percussion instrument simply cannot release the Vaughan Williams magic. It works a treat for Beethoven, but is relatively alien to the misty loveliness of Vaughan Williams. Two works for solo piano, A Little Piano Book and Suite of Six Short Pieces, are pleasant, but not much more. Of sterner stuff is the Introduction and Fugue for two pianos, a first recording; at 17 minutes it has some substance. The Lake in the Mountains is claimed to be a masterpiece, and is possibly the best piece on the disc. However, it descends into musical head-banging with a great deal of thumping, not a style I associate with the composer. The arrangements of his more famous pieces, such as the Tallis Fantasia and Greensleeves, and…

Schumann’s Humoreske and Davidsbündlertänze are hard nuts to crack. They both reveal Schumann at his most ruminative and discursive. The Humoreske is one of Schumann’s kaleidoscopic “mood” pieces – much more than the salonistic bagatelles of Grieg and Dvořák. Schumann lamented the absence of a French word for whimsy, which is what this piece is about, as much as anything. Buratto plays beautifully but at times a bit anonymously. Compare Horowitz’s recording (made when he was 76) where there’s more animation and imagination. The Davidsbündlertänze (David’s Club Dances) were another celebration of the inspiration of Schumann’s imaginary world and his bi-polar muses and the foundation members and twin pillars of the “club”: Florestan, active, adventurous, heroic, and Eusibius, contemplative and introverted. (David triumphed over the Philistines: i.e. the composer’s conservative critics.)The 18-section work, another love letter to Clara, presents challenges in terms of cohesion. There’s a subtle connective tissue but it would be missed by most listeners. Many of these “dances” are hardly terpsichoral but Buratto has, for the most part, their mutli-faceted measure, from the frenetic bursts of enery to the quintessential Schumann reverie. The centrepiece is the exquisite Blumenstück. Here, Buratto is equally exquisite, though not yet in…

Glass on the piano to the max rather than to the Minimalist.

Umberto Clerici uses Bach's Cello Suites as a kind of platform to explore the experience of a solo cello suite: its pacing, progression of tempi and mood, dance character, and dramatic flow.

German violin virtuosa Isabelle Faust and Russian pianist Alexander Melnikov have released an extensive list of recordings of chamber works by Beethoven, Brahms, Schubert, Schumann, Shostakovich and Weber. This, their most recent release, sees them dabbling in French repertoire, with two works by French romantics César Franck and Ernest Chausson. Franck and Chausson really are a perfect complement to each other. Both composers inject the same kind of lyricism and harmonic drama into their music, Chausson lying somewhere between Franck and Debussy in terms of style. This recent recording sees the pairing of Franck’s classic Violin Sonata with Chausson’s Concerto for Violin, Piano and String Quartet, Op. 21. The Chausson is less well known than the Franck, but is nonetheless a wonderful example of chamber music at its most intimate and dynamic, and sees Faust and Melnikov joined by the Salagon Quartet. Faust’s signature silky, gauze-like tone colour is on fine display throughout the recording, though particularly in the Franck’s fragile third movement, and Melnikov’s light touch on the c.1885 Érard piano lends a sense of period authenticity to the performance. The reading of the Franck Sonata captures all of its dreaminess and nonchalance, balanced nicely by more rugged displays…