A riveting release featuring five leading Australian composers.

Naming your ensemble after a composer creates high expectations when it comes to performing their music, but the London Haydn Quartet certainly don’t disappoint. Brought together through their shared love of Franz Joseph’s string quartets, the group is distinguished from similar ensembles by its period approach to ‘Papa’ Haydn. They’ve spent the last 20 years devoted to the composer’s extensive canon. And having recorded Haydn’s five previous sets of quartets on the Hyperion label, the LHQ is releasing its sixth disc, featuring the Opp. 54 and 55 sets, known, along with the Op. 64 set, as the ‘Tost’ Quartets. The LHQ approaches these performances with detailed consideration for every stroke of the bow. Haydn’s ensemble textures are treated like shapely, rounded surfaces brimming with character, the quartet balancing the most delicate moments with passages of real athleticism. Haydn delights in every quartet, particularly during the gypsy-inflected Op. 54/2 second movement, where first violinist Catherine Manson’s rich yet playful reading shines. More treats lie in store in the sparkling presto finale of the Op. 54/3 quartet, and the minor to major journey of the Razor Quartet, Op. 55/2. Haydn’s quartets were celebrated for not just spotlighting the first violin, but for…

Music and pianos of historical interest in gutsy performances.

FS (“Sep”) Kelly, an Australian who was killed just over 100 years ago in the last days of the Somme Campaign, was a great sportsman (the pre-eminent sculler of his time and a Gold Medallist at the 1908 Olympics), an outstanding concert-pianist and – as this splendid anthology declares – an accomplished composer. In fact, the Elegy for string orchestra, written as a tribute to his friend, poet Rupert Brooke, is a true masterpiece: Australian music-lovers should be proud of it. In this, its second commercial recording, the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra under Johannes Fritzsch plays with such technical finesse and emotional intensity, that the radiant quality of the music should be obvious to every listener. Brooke, like Kelly an officer of the Royal Naval Division, had died on April 23, 1915 soon after that force reached Gallipoli: Kelly survived the entire campaign and, as if to keep the sound of war from his ears, composed constantly, producing two major works in that year. The other was a striking Violin Sonata for Jelly d’Arányi, the brilliant young Hungarian violinist and great-niece of Joseph Joachim: she premiered it in London in 1919 during a memorial concert for Kelly, but after… Continue reading…

Any good new recording of The Four Seasons should always be welcomed. This one by Daniel Hope and the Zurich Chamber Orchestra is more than good: it’s outstanding. Listening to these dramatic, historically-informed performances, one is immediately struck by how Vivaldi’s prefatory sonnets and musical sound-painting can become not mere evocations of natural phenomena but starting points for deliberate, and far more exciting, abstractions which find their loci in pure emotion. Especially to be welcomed is Hope’s fluent, abundant decoration of the melodic line, particularly in the slower movements, which is echoed by the marvellously imaginative continuo section’s own elaborations. Offering a bracing new take on a classic is one thing; providing a new context for it is something else. And that something else may well be what ultimately attracts you. There have been myriad responses from various composers to Vivaldi’s original, such as Kalman Cseki’s Alpha, Apocalypse and Armageddon and Oliver Davis’ settings of Vivaldi’s sonnets, Anno and Anno Epilogue. Here we have something different: a pre-existing or newly-composed work assigned to each month of the year, with accompanying artwork – paintings or drawings – that is beautifully reproduced in the recording’s booklet along with copious notes by Hope….

Perhaps undervalued outside the UK, Colin Matthews holds an important position as a composer and pedagogue at home and this excellent disc on NMC, the label devoted to British composition that he launched, provides a triptych of beautifully constructed works composed between 1998 and 2010. A musical amenuensis of sorts to the Britten estate, Matthews has continued to create within a modernist framework works of a grave yet touching beauty which bring togeher French harmonies with a soundworld somewhat similar to that of the late Hans Werner Henze. And such is the depth of ideas encountered here, that with these three works, we have a perfect introduction to this composer as well as a means of celebrating his 70th birthday. All three works are commissions for important musicians and orchestras  – the Cello Concerto for Rostropovich, the Violin Concerto is heard in a BBC broadcast from the Proms, whilst Cortege is taken up by the Concertgebouw and Riccardo Chailly. Of the three works encountered here, it is the two movement Violin Concerto, which is also the finest and the most most virtuosic. Cortege is similarly of darkened textures and colours though not necessarily funereal in nature. Whilst it would be…

I must confess to being “conflicted“ about this admittedly fine CD from Chandos – conflicted because, while marketing is not essentially part of my remit, I can’t help but wonder who actually buys this sort of repertoire. Like virtually everything Chandos produces, the sound, content, playing, conducting, presentation and liner notes are excellent but, nevertheless, is there a limit to how many CDs of mainly music by relatively obscure composers the market can absorb? It’s certainly not meant to belittle Rumon Gamba and his fine band. That said, this release could be called Ecstatic Solitude or Fifty Shades of Home Counties Pastoral Reveries. All the scores are lovely, tonal and mostly gentle and come into the highest category of 20th-century music for people who think they don’t like 20th-century music. All the more admirable as some was composed long after Schoenberg’s launch into atonality and The Rite of Spring. My favourite moments were, in no particular order, Frederic Austin’s Spring in its entirety, the Elgarian nobilmente march in the tragic Ivor Gurney’s A Gloucester Rhapsody (yes, I know Gloucestershire isn’t, strictly speaking, in the Home Counties) and the dramatic passages in the splendidly named Sir Granville Bantock’s The Witch of…

I was bemused to read, when perusing the publicity, that the three works here had been “curated”. I thought “curate” described an exhibition of objects (usually art works) which had been lent or borrowed from various sources. It’s stretching things to say three mainstream works performed in rapid succession in a loosely structured series have been curated! That said, these two CDs showcase the level David Robertson has brought the Sydney Symphony to during his tenure as Chief Conductor. The only problem with the complete Firebird ballet is that the first half, with its shimmering (and the SSO certainly knows how to shimmer – beautifully) textures seems to last forever: I found myself longing for something to happen amid all the colour and movement of the more familiar suites, which, when they finally arrived, were worth waiting for. Petrushka is probably the best prospect for “tunes”. Here, Robertson went for loud primary Kandinsky-like colours and textures, but also captured the sinister overtones of the sadistic Moor. The Rite of Spring was a real savage, not a “pet” one, to coin Stravinsky’s own rebarbative description of Karajan’s version of the work. (He also described his Dance of the Adolescents as tempo…

It’s unusual to find an A-list conductor like Riccardo Chailly recording such (generally)  obscure music on an equally A-list label. Good for him! A few years ago he recorded a CD of some of Verdi’s non-operatic obscurities and this release co-incides with his arrival at La Scala, where 11 of these works were premiered. I didn’t find any neglected gems, but there are no duds either and the La Scala orchestra is wonderfully idiomatic in this fare. The programme is well arranged, with plenty of contrast between succeeding tracks and serves to demonstrate the development of the overture throughout the 19th century and on into the 20th. The earliest work here is Rossini’s Overture to La Pietra del Paragone (1812) (aka the overture to Tancredi) which illustrates the then typical slow introduction followed by a rowdy allegro, which was succeeded by examples like Verdi’s Overture to Il Finto Stanislao (1840) – still a real romp – and Bellini’s more famous Norma (1831), both of which could be termed  typical “medley” overtures, offering snatches of themes from the operas ahead. Chailly and his orchestra are especially impressive in the Norma. (They’re also alive to every nuance in the Madama Butterfly Act…

How do you take your Poulenc? I only ask because, conveniently, The Sixteen have recorded a lot of the repertoire on their latest disc before, and their thinking has changed dramatically in the 30-year gap. The contrast between the 1990 Figure Humaine (Virgin Classics, now Erato 5624312) and the newly released Francis Poulenc: Choral Music (CORO) is striking – neither an improvement nor the reverse, simply two very different approaches to the composer’s sacred music. Poulenc’s journey to faith was a swift and dramatic one. The turning point is usually placed in 1936, when two separate events together propelled the composer into a new state of mind. The sudden and violent death of his friend, composer Pierre-Octave Ferroud, in a car accident prompted a visit to the small chapel at Rocamadour, where a mystical experience restored the Catholicism of his childhood. He immediately began work on a sacred piece – the Litanies à la Vierge Noir – taking his first steps in a genre that would become a constant throughout his life. The sound-world of Figure Humaine is one of gauzy, glossy beauty – a Mannerist vision of a heaven that’s all soft-focus loveliness and elegance. These are performances that…

It was the soundtrack to 1994 film Farinelli that put Les Talens Lyriques on the musical map over two decades ago. Now Christophe Rousset and his musicians mark their 25th anniversary by coming full circle, with an album of arias associated once again with the 18th century’s star castrato. But Farinelli is now well-trodden ground. Vivica Genaux, David Hansen and Philippe Jaroussky are just the most recent singers to lay claim to this repertoire on disc, so is there really a need for another homage? There are two strong arguments in this disc’s favour. In Ann Hallenberg, Rousset has a collaborator whose agility, power, and range of vocal colour is singular – capable of inhabiting both of Farinelli’s contrasting musical personalities. The project is also particularly canny in its repertoire choices, rejecting the usual single-composer route in favour of a broad selection of musical highlights from, not only Handel and Porpora, but also Leo, Hasse, Giacomelli and even Farinelli’s own composer brother. The result is a disc full of musical drama, heightened by a live recording originally made in 2011 at the Bergen International Festival. After a slightly slow start in Riccardo Broschi’s handsome, but pedestrian Son qual nave and…

French mezzo Marianne Crebassa’s debut disc makes a stylish calling card that should raise the stock of this fine artist. Her characteristic French tang, tight vibrato and tasteful use of portamento harks back to an earlier style but her precise intonation and control in passage work is very much of our time. There is a true mezzo quality to her timbre but she doesn’t bellow in chest voice. Her plangent manner recalls a young Frederica von Stade. The programme alternates 19th-century French arias with Mozart’s seria plums for castrati but, while it may be a celebration of trouser roles, she sounds resolutely feminine. From the impish cover shot, I suspect she is convincingly boyish on stage, so thankfully she doesn’t resort to arch guying; the inevitable Cherubino numbers are refreshingly straight. Flashy numbers show off her immaculate legato fiorature with no nasty aspirants: Il tenero momento from Lucio Silla is a showstopper. The bravura aria from Gluck’s Berliozed Orphée with its cadenza padded out by Saint-Saëns might horrify purists but Crebassa’s elegant poise channels the spirit of Pauline Viadot. The number from Chabrier’s L’Étoile is a sensuous delight as is Sommeil, ami des dieux from Thomas’ Psyché. Marc Minkowski directs…