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… Continue reading…

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… Continue reading Get unlimited…

Musikproduktion Dabringhaus und Grimm makes a big deal on their website about the ideals behind high-end audio production, and this recording certainly sounds superb. The tone is warm and naturally resonant, and the instruments are reproduced in a beautifully natural-sounding fashion. If you have a serious audio system at home, this is the sort of recording that you can use to show off just how good a CD can sound. It’s a disappointment, then, that the playing on this disc is merely adequate, rather than good or great. When you can hear every note with crystal clarity, it’s distressing to realise that what should be breathtakingly virtuosic runs at the end of the famous Carmen Fantasy are, in this recording, rather messy. The more reflective passages come off well, with the duo working well together, but in these pieces the spotlight is clearly on the violin. In turn, this means that the flaws come through rather obviously. The other issue is merely a matter of programming. I will admit to a soft spot for the late 19th century’s more flamboyantly virtuosic works, but isn’t an hour and a quarter of operatic paraphrases really a bit much? Yes, they’re rendered in lovingly……

The Triumph of Time and Truth might not be a masterpiece; but it’s the work of a genius, and so cannot be ignored.

Lately Stephen Hough has become more interested in compiling themed programs from various sources than producing single-composer discs. Fortunately his standing as a musician allows him to do so, and the results are always illuminating and satisfying. This new recital of nocturnally inclined works proves no exception. While French pieces are left out altogether (such as perhaps Ravel’s Gaspard de la Nuit or Fauré’s Nocturnes), what is here is well chosen. Schumann provides the major part of the program, which opens with In der Nacht from his Fantasiestücke Op. 12. This turbulent nightscape is perfectly rendered. As ever, Hough’s technical assurance allows him to focus on conveying the meaning of the music, both in its pictorial aspect (a stormy night wind over the ocean) and concomitant emotional state. Both go hand in hand so closely in Schumann. Balancing this piece is the suite Carnaval, where Schumann presents a series of character studies as though seen at a masked ball (which would take place at night, of course). The 21 fleeting studies cover a variety of moods, but the overall impression is one of unbridled passion. Markings such as Vivo, Passionato, Anime and Presto abound. The challenges are many: specific character has…

I first made the acquaintance of Handel’s harpsichord music through the medium of guitar duet. “Just listen to this,” a friend said, handing me a record of the G Major Chaconne as arranged and performed by legendary husband and wife duo Alexandre Lagoya and Ida Presti. It was a revelation. Since then I’ve heard Handel’s so-called Eight Great Suites (1720), to which Danny Driver has added for this recording the aforementioned Chaconne as well as two additional suites in C Minor and E Minor, played on harpsichord and piano by such luminaries as Sviatoslav Richter and Andrei Gavrilov, Laurence Cummings and Richard Egarr. Those of a less completist bent included Murray Perahia and Keith Jarrett. All, I felt, had something individual to say. But the question remained: did Handel’s music benefit more from the overtone-laden sonority of the plucked harpsichord or the pedaled richness and dynamically-shaded clarity of the hammered piano? Frankly it depends on who’s driving (pardon the pun), and with Danny Driver at the wheel you’d swear they had been composed for the piano. Handel’s suites show enormous variety, boasting variations on the French dance suite, the four-movement sonata da chiesa, improvisatory preludes, rigorous fugues and sets of…

After the more serious material of the first two volumes, James Ehnes finishes his survey of Bartók’s chamber music for violin on an entertaining note. Here’s the Hungarian master in unbuttoned mood, tapping into the rich folk traditions of his native lands alongside his move to America and his flirtation with jazz. Contrasts was written for Benny Goodman and violinist Joseph Szigeti in 1938. It was one of the first pieces Bartók wrote in America. The music includes complex Bulgarian dance rhythms as well as recognising Goodman’s jazz heritage. The piece features top clarinetist, Michael Collins and pianist Andrew Armstrong. The charming Sonatina, based on Transylvanian folk themes, was originally composed for solo piano until 10 years later a student, Endre Gertler, brought Bartók a solo violin transcription. Bartók told Gertler that he’d wished he written it for fiddle in the first place. For the Forty-Four Duos – bite-sized colourful slices of folk music from the Balkans – Ehnes is joined by Amy Schwartz Moretti. Few of these pieces last a minute, except for the lovely prelude and canon. Some tunes will be familiar in other settings but played by two duelling violins they make for a spicy and entertaining…

Riccardo Chailly’s way with Mahler is a known quantity thanks to his superb CD cycle with the Royal Concertgebouw, probably the most recommendable complete set with magnificent orchestral playing and stunning sound. He occupies a pragmatic middle ground between the two schools of Mahler style; the classically restrained, if sometimes dull, with the emphasis on structural logic versus the wildly emotive, if self-indulgent, with live-for the-moment thrills and spills. His acute ear for sonority reflects his progressive tendencies but his old school operatic training is evident with his projection of a singing line and careful dramatic pacing. Since moving to Leipzig he seems to have refined his approach to suit the different character of his orchestra with its dark hued strings, mittel-Europa wind timbres and gleaming brass.  The mark of a great orchestra is the quality and focus of playing at the lowest dynamic levels – listen to the closing moments of the Adagietto; the strings fading to the merest whisper yet still perfectly blended together like a delicate silken thread. Chailly’s ability to clarify telling details is typified by the empty rattle of hard-stick timpani strokes in the opening funeral march that are so often lost in… Continue reading…

Henri Dutilleux (1916-2013) had a long and productive life but worked in a slow, meticulous manner, which explains why this almost complete edition of his music only runs to six CDs. Missing is an immature ballet score Le Loup (The Wolf). Georges Prêtre recorded excerpts from it in the 1960s for EMI but evidently Universal was unable to license them, even though this set contains recordings from several diverse sources. The bulk of Dutilleux’s oeuvre is represented here – from his early Symphony No 1 and Piano Sonata of 1947/48 to his final orchestral work The Shadows of Time and Le Temps l’Horloge, an orchestral song cycle completed in 2009 and dedicated to soprano Renée Fleming (who sings it here). Because of Dutilleux’s magnificent sonic imagination and perfectionist attitude, every piece in this set is significant. The major large-scale works are his two symphonies – the Second (Le double), is more of a concerto grosso – and his concertos for violin and cello. The First Symphony (1951) emerges from the world of Roussel and Honegger, yet the composer’s fastidiousness is evident in the carefully balanced textures and succinct musical argument. (These traits would become even more pronounced.) Martinon conducts the…

The Swedish conductor Herbert Blomstedt came to San Francisco in 1985, following a decade with the Dresden Staatskapelle. Although Blomstedt lacked a marketable outgoing personality, he was in the right place at the right time. A contract was signed with Decca, and here are many of the memorable results, recorded between 1988 and 1995. Blomstedt brought the central European repertoire back to the orchestra, and the set includes Beethoven, Bruckner, Mahler and Brahms. These discs reveal a clear, lithe orchestral sound. SFS was light on its feet compared to its rival in Chicago, and in many ways better suited to recording. Blomstedt’s performances are not eccentric, but neither are they dull. Lively versions of Mendelssohn’s Scotch and Italian symphonies are here, and a terrific selection of Hindemith. He excelled in Scandinavian repertoire, so we have the complete Peer Gynt, Symphonies 2 and 3 from his excellent Nielsen set, and two delightful symphonies by the under-appreciated Berwald. From his Sibelius survey we get the First and Seventh Symphonies, plus Tapiola. (Many of these well-filled discs last over 80 minutes.) Rarities include works by Brahms for choir and orchestra, coupled with the Alto Rhapsody meltingly sung by Jard van Nes. Sound quality…