At the centre of this engaging disc is a fresh and vibrant account of Janáček’s famous Glagolitic Mass, so named because the old church Slavonic text is written in Glagolitic characters, a precursor of Cyrillic script. This new recording enhances all the reasons why this work has remained a firm favourite with audiences since its premiere in 1927. The broad and colourful orchestral canvas (including a major part for organ) is vividly conveyed by the super audio engineering. Edward Gardner and his Bergen forces convincingly project the red-blooded and often emotional response to the text with well drilled orchestral playing and evocative singing by the chorus.  Another major contribution is made by Australian Heldentenor Stuart Skelton who delivers the challenging tenor solos with unflinching confidence and surety. Skelton is well complemented by the attractive voice of American soprano, Sara Jakubiak. Mezzo Susan Bickley and bass Gábor Bretz acquit themselves in the smaller roles with distinction. Thomas Trotter deploys the Rieger organ of Bergen cathedral with finesse, especially in his quasi-Bacchanalian seventh-movement solo. Filling out the programme are the orchestral Adagio (c.1890), the Zdrávas Maria (Ave Maria) from 1904 and Otče náš (Our Father) from 1901, revised five years later. These…

This release is consistent with Hyperion’s reputation for creating warm, engaging records matched with exceptional sound. On this fourth volume, Howard Shelley tackles the Opus 35 set of Preludes and Fugues, Mendelssohn’s most substantial opus for solo piano, and pairs it with the popular fifth book of Songs Without Words. Shelley makes a strong case for these Bach-influenced studies. One listen leaves you in no doubt of his musicianship in an album executed with pristine attention to detail – his dexterity is especially on trial in the faster movements. Of particular note is the Prelude in B Minor, while the unpublished  Andante Cantabile and Presto Agitato are something else. Shelley plays with quicksilver speed and agility, but never seems to over-pump the gas. He maintains a reserved, agile, darting sound that dances up and down the keyboard with ease. In the exquisite fifth book of Songs without Words, a lesser pianist might milk phrases or revel in their sentimentality, a tendency that Shelley avoids perfectly. Instead, he marries an understanding of these wonderful Romantic phrases with the clarity that one would expect in Bach. The closing Spring Song is elegant and full of colour. This fine new recording demonstrates why…

If the prospect of a whole disc of wind quintets by Antoine Reicha – whose biggest claim to fame was his friendship with Beethoven – hardly sets pulses racing then the actuality proves more enchanting. The Thalia Ensemble performs on period instruments – no valves on Hylke Rozema’s gamey natural horn – which lifts the soundworld of Reicha’s music out from that rather antiseptic sheen I associate  (unfairly perhaps) with modern instrument wind quintets. Each of Reicha’s 24 wind quintets conforms to the standard four-movement mould as handed down from Haydn and Mozart, and revolutionised by his friend Ludvig van B. Of the two quintets on offer here, the earlier G Major Quintet, Op. 88 embeds the sound of surprise into its form most effectively. Harmonic tricks of the light and rarefied timbres are deployed to spice up the formula. Reicha’s Lento prologue stumbles into existence: a questioning opening chord catches the clarinettist mid-phrase before the music slithers chromatically towards the Allegro main event. Reicha was a flautist and his flute writing is correspondingly athletic, defined by “here’s me”. But my ear was as captivated by his bassoon parts, which dramatically break free from the ensemble, gurgling and turning like water…

Bohuslav Martinů is surely one of the most underrated composers of the 20th century. His unique brand of neoclassicism is addictive: a vivid celebration of folk dance and classical tradition, spiced with pungent harmonies and rhythmic verve. It’s a wonder his music is not performed more. Kudos then to the Estonian National Symphony Orchestra, whose recent release of the composer’s two suites from his ballet Špalíček bursts onto the scene with breathtaking élan. A testament to Martinů’s innovative approach to genre, Špalíček was conceived as a hybrid work: a ballet with operatic elements. Translated as ‘Chapbook’, a collection of literary subjects in pamphlet form, Špalíček is a charming conglomeration of fairytales. Familiar characters like Puss in Boots cavort with lions, mice and sparrow hawks, while a princess is rescued (with the aid of a butterfly) by a cobbler from the grips of a terrible giant. There are magicians and mysterious shadows, enchanted castles and even a catchy waltz at Cinderella’s palace ball. And the music is just as imaginative as the stories. The vibrant orchestration shows an early 20th-century predilection for woodwind and brass, with plenty of percussion and piano punctuating the bubbly score. Martinů’s musical subjects are mostly of Bohemian…

This recording of Tchaikovsky’s incidental music for Alexander Ostrovsky’s The Snow Maiden is a pure delight. Written in 1873, after the composer’s first two versions of the Romeo and Juliet fantasy overture (1869-70) and just before his first ballet, Swan Lake (1875-77), the work falls into a period when Tchaikovsky often found recourse to love stories that end badly. In Ostrovsky’s tale the immortal child of Spring and Ded Moroz – a sort of Russian Santa Claus – covets the companionship of mortals but is unable to know love. After her mother takes pity and grants her the power to love, growing fond of a shepherd, the emotion warms not only her heart but her entire being, to the point at which she melts. Estonian mezzo-soprano Annely Peebo sings the ill-fated maiden, her mellifluous tone and warm vibrato a pleasure to listen to – try any of Lehl’s Songs; they’re all superb (the principal clarinettist here and in the first two Entr’Actes deserves special mention for sympathetic phrasings and solo work). As her shepherd, Vsevolod Grinov’s tenor is powerful and clarion with a nice weight at the bottom and a ringing top that comes across well in Brusilla’s Song. Kristjan Järvi conducts the exceptional MDR Sinfonieorchester and Chorus…

Autograph is a career-spanning seven-disc set personally selected by English tenor Ian Bostridge in celebration of his 50th birthday. Organised thematically, discs 1 and 2 cover the Lieder for which Bostridge is justly famous – Wolf, Schumann and Schubert, including Winterreise in its entirety. Discs 3 and 4 are devoted to early music, with a lengthy selection of excerpts from Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo, and including briefer coverage of Dido and Aeneas, Mozart’s Idomeneo and Die Entführung aus dem Serail, plus a sprinkling of Handel.  Then it’s on to substantial excerpts from Britten’s The Rape of Lucretia, Billy Budd, and The Turn of the Screw, before returning to two complete Lieder cycles. In an usual pairing, Schumann’s Dichterliebe and Janácˇek’s The Diary of One Who Disappeared are bracketed together under ‘Allegories of Love,’ the rationale for which you can hear Bostridge discuss on the final disc, a lengthy (80 minutes!) interview.  It’s extraordinary for a singer to have such command of the differing vocal demands of repertoire covering four centuries, and if your early music preferences are with period performances, Bostridge’s readings may not quite be for you. He is especially good with Britten, and, not surprisingly, at his transcendental best with the…

There are few more tantalising torsos to be found in the history of opera than that of Donizetti’s abandoned Le Duc d’Albe. Commissioned to write two works for the Paris Opéra in 1839, the Italian composer, newly resident in the French capital, duly set out to adapt his Poliuto as the more Gallically apposite Les Martyrs, while simultaneously beginning work on the opera whose remains we have here. It is unclear why that second project never came to fruition. Two acts were composed and the remainder planned out when problems arose. Firstly, Donizetti was in a queue behind Halévy and Meyerbeer, neither of whom seemed in any hurry to deliver their commissions. Then there were rumours of a change of prima donna in the offing, potentially rendering his plans for writing a radical spitfire heroine obsolete.  Years dragged by. In 1845, one of the librettists, Eugène Scribe, sued the management to free up his text. Donizetti considered doing the same, but a year later he was a spent force, confined to an asylum suffering the final stages of tertiary syphilis. In the end, Scribe tactfully changed the location to medieval Sicily under the Normans and flogged his idea to Verdi,…

The Doric Quartet, operating out of London, challenge all our assumptions about Papa Joe’s string quartets, telling us, “We know Haydn can sound like this, but have you ever considered it could sound like that too?” Haydn’s Opus 76 was the last extended set of string quartets he wrote, contemporary in his output with The Creation and the London Symphonies, music that would distil an entire lifetime of creative discovery into structures where the genuinely sublime felt at ease with the authentically bawdy. If you prefer your Haydn performed within carefully delineated ‘Classical’ limits, then the Doric’s re-examination of the DNA of these late-period scores might represent too much of a walk on the wild side. The quartet splash around wideband dynamics and proto-expressionistic timbres with such obvious abandon we are reminded that Haydn would not only provide a seedbed of ideas for Mozart and Beethoven, but that stirrings of Schubert, Bruckner and Second Viennese School thinking, too, are to be found within the thrusting loins of this music. Op. 76, No 1 gives notice of how every detail will be up for renegotiation. Notice cellist John Myerscough’s free-spirited phrasing during the first movement’s opening theme; but also how the…

The Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin (affectionately portmanteaued to ‘Akamus’) gives a blistering re-enactement here of George I’s 1717 noisy barge journey down the Thames. Dance tunes in the French outdoor tradition and a processional, military colour dominate. The three suites each use different instrumentation, a fact that points to their separate origins, and poaching from earlier output. Grammy-winning Baroque specialists Akamus began in East Berlin in 1982. For this recording they are 27 players (to Handel’s 50; probably a good thing) and are operating sans conductor, under concertmaster Georg Kallweit. They bring a perfect blend of ensemble unity and soloistic flair. Oboist Xenia Löffler embellishes the Adagio e Staccato (Suite 1) with supreme artistry. Supersonic tempi transform the horn-centric movements into Olympic feats. Water Music is the first time a pair of horns was heard in an English orchestra; imagine the virtuosic trills of the Allegro (Suite 1) blasting peasant ears near and far. Typical for excellent period ensembles, the rhythmic vigour required of baroque music is really apparent here. In the Bourrée (Suite 3), timpanist Friedhelm May is a standout soloist. The central suite is more intimate than the outer two. Flautist Christoph Huntgeburth and Lutenist Björn Colell bring…

The further removed we are from the era of the American iconoclast Charles Ives (1874-1954), the stranger his music sounds.

Australia’s Seraphim Trio contrasts early Beethoven – the genial G Major Trio – with the later Ghost Sonata (No 5), so named because of the eerily troubled scene conjured up in its central movement. No 4, is sometimes known as Gassenhauer after the popular tune by Joseph Weigl that forms the basis of Beethoven’s variations in the finale. The Seraphim captures the light-heartedness of the early trio with style. Goldsworthy’s delicate piano figuration in the final movement is delightful, and all three musicians display subtle shading throughout, not least in the darker slow movement. In the Op. 70, Nankervis’s cello is eloquent in bringing out a strain of melancholy in the ‘ghostly’ movement, but it is pointless to single out individual performers because unanimity of vision is the Seraphim’s strength. How well they judge the arpeggio passage just before this movement’s close. The robust variations in Op. 11 are lots of fun, and I hear the subtlest sense of ‘heart on sleeve’ in the preceding lyrical Adagio movement. These musicians are clearly enjoying themselves in this lighter side of Beethoven. By comparison, Trio Wanderer on Harmonia Mundi takes a more straightforward approach. Their performances do not remind us (as the…

Sea Eagle is a survey of seven pieces from the British horn repertoire, recorded by venerable hornist Richard Watkins. Released by NMC Recordings, its name comes from the Peter Maxwell Davies work with which this album begins. This is the oldest work on the disc, composed for the hornist in 1982, and is the only featured solo work. Watkins approaches Maxwell Davies’ challenge with an intense conviction; his sharp-sighted tone and innate ability to convey such contoured phrasings make him a true rhetorician of the instrument. This is especially apparent in the Adagio, in which Watkins soars freely between registers as if slipping between a series of up and downdraughts. The turbulence of his trills and flutter-tongued notes in the outer movements are always well measured and add a marked contrast to the surrounding legato sections. Gerald Barry’s trio for voice, horn and piano (Jabberwocky) is entirely raucous in the best sense of the word and is a perfect marriage to Lewis Caroll’s nonsensical text. Here the hornist possesses an electric cuivré that penetrates the ears, matching Mark Padmore’s fierce and guttural German pronunciation and Huw Watkins’ jaunty and well-judged piano. My only qualm with this album is that the remaining works of this…