Limelight Editor’s Choice – Orchestra – September 2014 Deutsche Grammophon’s reboot of period performance imprint Archiv has definitely got off to a flying start, with stylish Spanish conductor Pablo Heras-Casado and acclaimed period instrument band Concerto Köln serving up fiery musical tapas from Baroque rock star Farinelli’s Spanish sojourn. In 1737 King Philip V invites Carlo Broschi aka Farinelli, the greatest castrato of all time, to Madrid to sing solely for him. He accepts. After Philip’s death, Ferdinand VI appoints Farinelli artistic director of the palace theatres in Madrid’s Buen Retiro and Aranjuez. In his new role as impresario, Farinelli collaborates closely with librettist Pietro Metastasio and uses his extensive Neapolitan contacts to secure the services of some of the finest composers and musicians of the day. The results are game-changing. “Farinelli secured the services of the finest composers and musicians of the day” In his 12 years in the job, Farinelli succeeded, as Michael Church writes in his program notes, in raising the profile of Spanish music from “a kind of provinciality to being a major presence in the European mainstream”. Heras-Casado, whose own Aranjuez-based group La Compania Teatro del Principe specializes in music from the court of Ferdinand VI, has…

Simon Tedeschi has become something of a household name here in Australia. Known for thinking outside the classical box, he’s shown himself to be an artist of expert ability with some impressively diverse tastes. He collaborated with Australian jazz great James Morrison on his previous album with ABC Classics, Gershwin: Take Two, and this, his most recent release on the label continues his foray into the world of jazz. This compilation of local piano music has been chosen specially by Tedeschi, in what he calls a musical “self-portrait”. There’s something refreshing about the collection – it’s the perfect soundtrack for a lazy afternoon. You’ll find it has a soothing warmness, and at times an irresistible groove that instills it with a playful energy. Tedeschi’s performance is nuanced and sensitive, and perfectly suits the demands of the piano writing. The disc opens with a Barcarolle by pianist-composer Mark Isaacs, whose music adds a calming touch to the album. He has five miniatures peppered throughout the collection, including the title track, Tender Earth – a stunningly gentle soliloquy brought to life through Tedeschi’s thoughtful approach and delicate touch. Mike Nock’s music offers some welcome contrasts. The cutely named… Continue reading Get unlimited digital…

John Casken’s orchestral music is monumental in breadth and vision, and makes for enjoyable listening. 

I must admit I wasn’t familiar with the composers on this disc, but they’re both discoveries that I’m happy to have made. Performing here on two magnificent Ruckers keyboards from the early 17th century, Karen Flint plays these French Baroque works with an exquisitely light touch, presenting Lebègue and Hardel’s dances in the best possible way.  The complete harpsichord works of Lebègue consist of his 1677 Les Pièces de Clavessin, and the 1687 Second Livre de Clavessin. Notably, it’s in the earlier collection that the very first unmeasured preludes (a form of prelude where each note’s duration is at the performer’s discretion) are contained. Most of the three discs are devoted to Lebègue’s music, but the potential dullness of a standardised sound is allayed through clever use of the two harpsichords. Although it’s not stated which one is used where, the benefit is clear in the pleasantly twangy Suitte en F ut fa, a very different sound from the richer instrument used elsewhere. Poor Jacques Hardel left only about 20 minutes of music, but it is extraordinarily beautiful. The noble Courante d’Ardelle, transcribed from a lute original, is particularly affecting. The liner notes are extraordinarily detailed in their descriptions of…

Switzerland is not a country that we associate with composers. Other than than Raff, we must wait until the 20th century and composers like Othmar Schoeck, Les Six’s Honegger and Frank Martin in order to find familiar names. So it was with interest to discover this fourth disc in an ongoing series devoted to the symphonic repertoire of Fritz Brun – a Lucerne-raised musician who may be Switzerland’s finest twentieth-century symphonist, writing between 1902 and his death in 1959 ten well constructed if conservatively Romantic symphonies in the style of Brahms.  The English label Guild has finally taken the opportunity to record a complete traversal of his major works with six of his ten symphonies already released. Symphony No 1 – a prize winning student work – whilst bringing up suggestions of Brahms also  hints at Tchaikovsky, Wagner and Bruckner with the large forces of the Moscow Symphony relishing the attractive qualities of this large-scale tonal work.  The Swiss conductor – simply known as Adriano – certainly knows the full worth of this symphony as with the others by this composer already recorded. By contrasting the early symphony with the much later Overture (from 1950), it is obvious that Brun…

The advantage a recording has over a live performance is the same as that of a printed score: freed from the shackles of time and place, one can feed as much or as little as, hunger dictates. This is often crucial with collections of works that weren’t intended to be listened to at one sitting. Yet there’s an assumption that people will listen through from beginning to end. So how to ensure the variety necessary to maintain interest? The wonderful Gywn Roberts takes her cue from historical uncertainty: for much of the Baroque period, the word “flute” could have meant either a recorder or the transverse flute proper. Thus, in this selection of works from Neapolitan composer Francesco Mancini’s 1724 collection “Solos for a flute with a Thorough Bass for the Harpsichord or for the Bass Violin” she uses a variety of instruments: two alto recorders, a voice flute (slightly lower in pitch than a treble recorder) and a transverse flute. Not only that: the continuo section continually, if you’ll excuse the pun, changes in colour and texture as Richard Stone and Adam Pearl, accompanied for the most part by Lisa Terry on cello, employ various combinations of harpsichord, organ,…

Last year’s celebration of Australia’s musical elite diaspora, the Australian World Orchestra, (plus a few resident players) featured Zubin Mehta on the podium. I’ve always regarded Mehta as a superb “technician” but, apart from a wunderkind debut Bruckner Ninth, while still in his twenties with the Vienna Philharmonic, I’ve never found his interpretations particularly engaging.   However, my reactions to this two CD set of the occasion has somewhat changed my thinking. Their performance of Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, in its centenary year, is very fine- without challenging Doráti’s, Bernstein’s first New York version or Igor Markevich’s old Philharmonia (stereo) version where the orchestral shriek at the opening of the second section is truly blood curdling. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the treacherous opening bassoon passage so beautifully shaped. The woodwind is also beautifully captured throughout.  Mehta’s tempi are steady rather than headlong. The performance of  Mahler’s First Symphony was a treat. Mehta included the discarded Blumine (“Flowers’) movement ( as he did in his Israel Philharmonic recording in the late eighties) although Mahler was probably right to remove it, as it sounds genuinely, as distinct from faux, naïve. The string playing was of a caliber we seldom…

This is the third in the Beethoven sonata series, played by English-born, sometime Australian resident, James Brawn. I enjoyed a recent recital (which included a thoughtful Pictures at an Exhibition).  Brawn shows every sign of thinking beyond the mere technical aspects of these works. In the early (1797) Sonata Op. 2 No 2, he keeps the music in proportion – this was still the Classical era – but also understands that the young Beethoven had a rough edge (bracingly evident in Brawn’s accented bass notes) and a sharp sense of humour. The latter imbues the scherzo with a quicksilver, throwaway quality. Brawn rightly brings more romantic ardour to the sturm und drang of the middle-period sonatas. His urgency in the tempestuous allegro of No 17 does not undermine the necessary Classical poise, while contrasting moments of calm are presented with sensitivity and clarity. Beethoven had a reputation as an improviser at the piano, and there is a real sense of this in Brawn’s playing. Sonata No 26, Les Adieux, can sometimes elude even the greatest Beethoven pianists. Its course is highly varied, both musically and dramatically. Brawn shapes every fleeting change of emphasis in the first movement, and even more…

In its previous two recordings, the Melbourne Guitar Quartet chose rather unusual material, including an arrangement of Nigel Westlake’s hypnotic percussion work, Omphalo Centric Lecture, and a reimagining of William Walton’s Five Bagatelles, originally for solo guitar. Here, the repertoire is far less adventurous. Reworkings of Albéniz’s Cordoba and Granados’s various Danzas Españolas have been played on guitar since the early 20th century, so the material here isn’t as fresh and unexpected. The arrangement of Debussy’s Suite Bergamasque has a curiously earthbound feel to it – this won’t replace any of the great pianists for favoured recordings of the work, though the famous Clair de Lune is appropriately dreamy. Furthermore, I feel that the extracts from both Debussy and Ravel’s string quartets (in both cases the second movement) are flat-out unsuitable for guitar quartet format. For example, the trill in the Ravel that introduces the soaring theme that should sound effortless, sounds laboured. Were these pieces chosen simply because they feature pizzicatos in the original string quartet versions? In both cases, tempos are on the slow side, exacerbating the issue. The Granados and Albéniz, on the other hand, are played well, benefitting from the extended range provided by the quartet’s…

You certainly couldn’t wish for a better send-off. Though sadly passing away earlier this year, Peter Sculthorpe is celebrated in a wonderful way on this recording. Over the course of his entire career, Sculthorpe always returned to the piano, his own instrument. Before his death, he closely supervised the recording of this superb two-disc set, and specifically chose pianist Tamara-Anna Cislowska as the ideal proponent of his works. The program is organised chronologically, beginning with a set of short works written at the age of just 15. For the first half of the first disc or thereabouts, we’re comfortably in a sort of Debussy-esque territory that many wouldn’t quickly associate with Sculthorpe. These early works have rather delightfully evocative titles such as Falling Leaves, Prelude to a Puppet Show, and a slumbering Siesta. However, while these pieces (mostly written before he turned 20) are very beautiful, his unique compositional voice was yet to emerge. “Koto Music includes a sound that resembles nothing so much as a blues-style slide guitar” By the time we’ve arrived at the mid-1950s with the Sonatina, his familiar stylistic approaches have begun to make an appearance, and with the fully-fledged Sonata of 1963, we’ve come to…

Chandos’s second collection of Beethoven Sonatas from Bavouzet contains the two Op. 27 Sonatas (the second of which is the Moonlight), the three Op. 31 Sonatas (the second of which is the Tempest), Sonatas Op. 28 (Pastoral), Op. 53 (Waldstein), and the unnamed Sonatas Op. 22, 26 and 49. Written between 1795 and 1805, they represent the composer’s middle period. The earlier works retain a classical elegance, but this disappears in the Op. 31 set. By the time of the Waldstein (and its rejected slow movement, recycled separately as the Andante Favori), the composer has decided to use the piano sonata as a platform for making some big statements. Unlike some pianists, Bavouzet recognises that a different approach, even a different touch, is required from one work to the next. The accents in Op. 22 for example are sharp and briskly classical, whereas the accents in the finale of the Moonlight Sonata and the first movement of the Tempest are fuller, more in keeping with sturm und drang. His pedaling in the first movement of the Moonlight (the trickiest aspect of that music) is perfectly judged, and he finds a tender quality in a slower than usual rendition of the Allegretto. Overall,…

“Steel yourself for his mallets of musical mastery”. So runs the spruik in the liner notes of Nick Parnell’s self-published album Vibes Virtuoso. This is no idle boast. Adelaide percussionist Parnell knows his way round the three octaves of metal keys and sustain pedal and his mission is to put this instrument centre stage. Born in the Flinders Ranges town of Orroroo, Parnell taught himself drums in his parents’ sheep shearing shed before studying at Elder Conservatorium. This is his third album, the previous two were under the ABC Classics label, and it covers some familiar classics mixed up with George Gershwin and bravura pieces like Josef Suk’s Burleska No 4 and Vittorio Monti’s Csardas. Parnell’s spectacular playing is matched by his excellent accompanist, Amir Farid. The duo have great musical understanding and chemistry, and while they never quite reach the heights of those two great jazz improvisors Gary Burton and Chick Corea, they are impressive nevertheless. The instrument’s limited expressive range works better for some works. Two of Erik Satie’s Gymnopedies, Handel’s Arrival of the Queen of Sheba and excerpts from Gershwin’s American in Paris all transpose well. Ravel’s Alborada del gracioso and Debussy’s Reverie fall short. This won’t…