The hour was late, my day had been hellish, the decanter beckoned. Perhaps just a wee dram and the first movement. A few moments in and the Glenfiddich was forgotten. This is one of the greatest Mahler recordings and performances I’ve ever heard. The illustrious producer Walter Legge once opined that a conductor should build like a Moghul emperor and finish like a jeweller, and this is one of the elements which create the magic here: Jansons never loses sight of the gigantic scale of this symphony, while acknowledging and refining every detail. Tempos are generally slow and the overall timing makes this one of the slowest Mahler Thirds available. No matter! The playing of the Concertgebouw is not just beyond reproach – it’s beyond belief. The wilder sections of the first movement may lack the manic abandon of Bernstein, but the interchanges between the brass and woodwind are just one instance of the sensitivity and imagination that suffuse this account. Jansons’ rubato in the dreamy second movement is just as impressive and the offstage post horn solo in the third is equally magical. Bernarda Fink is beautifully poised in the fourth and fifth movements. The finale is often problematic, and a misreading often…

It’s seven years since Joseph Calleja made his solo recording debut, and he’s still only 33 years old. The hype which attended the arrival of this wunderkind in opera’s top tier has settled somewhat now, but he has maintained his place at the top of his profession and avoided the burnout which too often strikes such early and feverishly promoted bloomers. The Maltese Tenor, Calleja’s third collection of mostly popular, mostly Italian arias, finds him in bright and healthy voice. Once greeted by some as the second coming of Pavarotti, it’s clear now that Calleja is not quite – or at least not yet – as exceptional as that, but his honeyed, Italianate tone is swoonworthy just the same, and his delivery is underpinned by a solid technique which bodes well for a long future. Gorgeous legato, rather than textual detail, is Calleja’s specialty. He spins ardent favourites like E lucevan le stelle and Donna non vidi mai out with impeccable lyricism and audible sincerity, but there’s still a degree of characterisation missing. Still, there’s burnished colour aplenty in Calleja’s ardent Quando le sere al placido, and infectious energy in Offenbach’s jaunty Légende de Kleinzach, and Massenet’s Des Grieux also brings out…

From Mozart to Tchaikovsky to Britten, with a smattering of Wagner and Rossini along the way, Mattei dashes from one Greatest Hit to another with a versatility that’s almost galling. Comparisons are inevitable but for once, not odious; Mattei is a worthy heir to his illustrious predecessors, and the vocal and theatrical charisma which have made him such an audience favourite transfer remarkably well to disc. His honeyed baritone is as beguiling in Don Giovanni’s Serenade as it is devastating in Billy Budd’s Look! Through the port…, and he manages both Wagnerian legato and Rossinian coloratura with ease. Mattei’s madcap Largo al factotum must be one of the laugh-out-loud funniest on disc, and when it comes on the heels of a soaring, dignified account of Yeletsky’s Ya vas lyublyu (The Queen of Spades), it’s hard to believe that the same singer produced both performances. Or rather, it would be, were they – and indeed, every selection on this disc is – not unified by his sterling musicianship, vivid characterisation and seriously beautiful voice, all of which make Mattei such a distinctive artist. The Royal Stockholm Philharmonic, under Lawrence Renes, is an excellent partner in crime, particularly in the disc’s vibrant…

This live recording of Beethoven’s sole opera Fidelio is from the 2010 Lucerne Festival, under the baton of Claudio Abbado. Together with the Mahler Chamber Orchestra/Lucerne Festival Orchestra the succeeds in contrasting dramatic impetus with lyrical subtlety throughout the performance. Few tenors are able to convey the conflicting suffering, near-dementia and inextinguishable hope in Florestan’s character, but Jonas Kaufmann produces a sound that is both heroic and nuanced. Meanwhile, Nina Stemme’s Leonore is rich and expressive, delivering a heartfelt aria but falling short of joyous brilliance in her duet with Florestan. Falk Struckmann sings a powerful Pizarro, perhaps lacking a bit of snarl at times but successfully portraying an insecure despot who is about to snap. The supporting roles are sung well, but not outstandingly so; they all lack a degree of dramatic involvement. Beethoven’s sublime chorus writing provides the Arnold Schoenberg Choir with plenty of opportunity to shine, especially in the affecting Prisoners’ Chorus. The only major weakness here is the spoken dialogue, which in some cases has been abbreviated into monologue, the content of which is dramatically incoherent and delivered unconvincingly by the principals. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber?…

York Bowen was renowned during his lifetime (1884-1961) as a virtuoso pianist while as a composer he was dubbed, rightly or wrongly, “the English Rachmaninov”. Saint-Saëns, no less, was an admirer.  The bulk of Bowen’s First Symphony was composed when he was 18. If it were a person, I imagine it would be a genial, ruddy-cheeked countryman eager to buy you a pint. The orchestration is delightful and full of subtle colouring and themes with convincing development. The entire three-movement work has a charming alfresco quality. I was bemused to read one contemporary review which condescendingly described it as full of “frolicsome innocence”. How such precocious talent could be described as innocent is beyond me. The Second Symphony of 1909 is more ambitious and substantial. Bowen’s inventiveness never falters over the entire duration of almost 45 minutes. The first two movements are long-spanned but impressively cohesive, completely avoiding the episodic structure of so many 20th century English symphonies. The scherzo is an absolute charmer: a cross between Tchaikovsky and Mendelssohn, begging to be described as “gossamer”. Bowen clearly had no truck with the finale-itis (the qualitative fault line between the first three movements and the last, which often descends to…

This is some of the most wonderful piano playing I’ve ever heard. Hamelin’s dazzling bravura and technical mastery can almost be taken for granted, but not the discreet nonchalance with which he dispatches even the most challenging passages. The Bénédiction de Dieu dans la solitude from the Harmonies poétiques et religieuses is spellbindingly beautiful. Hamelin makes this extended piece sound arrestingly modern and radiantly dramatises the bewildering duality of Liszt’s life between the spiritual and the sensual, providing a serene resolution. Or does he? In Venezia e Napoli, the contrast in the two gondoliers’ songs could not be greater. In the first, Hamelin produces exquisitely pellucid effects and in the second, based on a theme from Rossini’s Otello, a much darker sonority. The B-minor Sonata is magnificent, from the first menacing gesture to the pauses (or foreboding silences) in the descending scale, which seem like question marks. In terms of mood, Hamelin never puts a foot wrong. If ever there were a musical autobiography made in sound, this is it. In intellectual, emotional and technical terms, this is a CD to cherish.

Mixing opera and pop tracks on disc is a fraught business, so Australia’s Ten Tenors have cut the Gordian Knot. Disc one contains covers of songs such as Wind of Change, Hallelujah and Bohemian Rhapsody, while the opera is relegated to disc two – Fauré’s Pie Jesu, the Anvil Chorus and the inevitable Nessun Dorma arranged for ten tenors and a busload of strings. Ignoring the cheese factor, the ten singers give a powerhouse, pitch-perfect performance on this disc, mustering far more passion and verve than you might expect. Popera fans rejoice.

Bach’s 30 variations on an original theme, BWV 988, constitute a challenging monument of the keyboard literature. This work bookended the recording career of Glenn Gould. The eccentric Canadian taped a youthful, dazzling performance in 1955, and a more deeply contemplative one in 1981, just prior to his untimely death. The variety of contemporary styles Bach drew on allows performers differing but equally legitimate approaches. Into this mix, we must add the piano-versus-harpsichord question (personally, I love Bach on the piano).  This disc by American pianist Nicholas Angelich is a winner. As there is no biography with it, let me fill in the gaps: born in 1970, Angelich studied in Paris with Loriod, Béroff and Ciccolini, and has previously recorded Brahms for this label. He uses every expressive device at his disposal. He decorates the theme heavily, and also the French variations in compound time, yet he varies his touch to make an Italian epidosde like the rapid No 5 less relentless. He is subtle in the canonic variations, allowing the slower ones to sing like Chopin. In this way his performance recalls the wonderful Telarc recording by Simone Dinnerstein.  Some pianists (like Gould in 1981) play the main theme slower and softer on…

Steve Reich’s highly anticipated September 11 lament comes ten years after the terrorist attacks and the release itself was not without controversy (note the revised album artwork). His account is everything we have come to expect from America’s greatest minimalist, and therein lies the problem. WTC 9/11 serves as a bookend to the Kronos Quartet’s 1988 collaboration with the composer, Different Trains: a profound work in which the strings echo the sampled speech of Holocaust survivors. Reich has rehashed the technique, this time with the voices of air traffic controllers and firemen who were among the first to grasp the magnitude of the American tragedy. What fails to move me is the mimicry, so poignant in Different Trains but cumbersome and almost tasteless here. Redeeming melodic interest comes in a reflective section of Hebrew Psalms, sung by Jews who prayed for the dead on the scene. Just shy of 16 minutes long, WTC 9/11 is as immediately terse and engaging as, say, Penderecki’s Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima. Reich’s structure and economy of means are masterful, but with the entire disc running to only 36 minutes I feel short-changed, despite the inclusion… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from…

The Latitude 37 trio has added its refined voice to Australia’s small but vibrant early music community, with a debut release that adheres to much the same winning formula as the Australian Brandenburg Orchestra’s Baroque Tapas, also featuring Laura Vaughan. One senses the ensemble’s inventiveness as a whole as well as the personalities of the players and their guests. Their rapport is most rewarding in Salaverde’s Canzon a due, where Julia Fredersdorff’s sweet-toned Baroque violin interlaces with the drier gamba passages, sensitively underscored by Donald Nicolson on chamber organ. The overall selection is perhaps more solemn than that of Tapas, as in the opening regal procession of Diego Ortiz’s Passamezzo antico and two pieces by Caccini and Palestrina, with Siobhán Stagg’s light soprano beaming through clouds. Some tracks replace gamba with the lirone, an Italian continuo instrument with a unique, gossamer sheen to its plaintive chords.  There’s plenty to liven up proceedings: Guy du Blêt’s varied percussion is essential to the success of the album in exuberant spagnoletta dance rhythms and a rustic Kapsberger passacaglia. Improvised, virtuosic flourishes over ground bass are executed by all players with flair. A small world, but one full of discovery. Continue reading Get unlimited digital…

A hugely satisfying release from a musician with talent and technique to burn.

This fascinating opera has had an uneven reputation from day one. Although Boito is better known as the brilliant librettist to Verdi’s last two masterpieces, Falstaff and Otello, he was also a composer of some standing, and Mefistofele was his magnum opus. It is the Faust legend, but done more flamboyantly and with a different dramatic emphasis than Gounod’s. Boito’s opera is a series of vignettes, with gaps between some scenes that do not always add up to a dramatic whole. In this opera, the character of Margherita is almost a sideshow. The main drama takes place between Mefistofele, Faust and God – as represented by a heavenly host, the chorus. By the final act and epilogue Margherita is long gone, leaving the stage to the three protagonists. It all works up to a wonderfully bombastic and exciting finale. Having seen a fine production of this opera in Vienna, I can attest to the work’s power on stage. Flawed it might be, but it is much more fun than Gounod’s Faust, and more dramatic. This live recording comes from the opera house in Palermo and is an effective enough performance from a good provincial opera house. The cast is uniformly…