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 hear…

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… 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…