The first two decades of the 20th century were a time of radical experimentation in European art music, and St Petersburg was by no means behind the times. Avant-garde music flourished during and for some time after the revolutions of 1905 and 1917. It wasn’t until the rise of Stalin that progressive modernism was actively stifled. We know the struggles faced by Shostakovich, but many of his compatriots abandoned their stylistic experiments (Popov), emigrated (Lourié), or mysteriously disappeared. Roger Woodward gives us a cross-section of miniatures written between 1905 (Scriabin’s first Feuillet d’album) and 1926 (Mosolov’s Two Nocturnes). Alexander Scriabin was the father of this school, literally so in the case of his son Julian, represented here by three preludes. Julian’s music was sophisticated and promising, but he died at the age of 11. Not all artworks that are stylistically groundbreaking or historically important are masterpieces. (How often do we listen to Schoenberg and Cage, compared to Sibelius and Copland?) Much of this music sounds tentative as a composer feels his way into new harmonic realms. This is certainly true of Obuhkov’s fragmentary Tableaux psychologiques of 1915. Yet when the new language is focussed, as in Stanchinsky’s Canon (1908), the result…

Joshua Bell’s first disc of sonatas with Sony is well worth the wait. At its centre is the ever-popular sonata by Franck, alongside works by Saint-Saëns and Ravel. Both Bell and his accompanist friend Jeremy Denk revel in the ever-changing impressionistic colours of harmony and timbre that this repertory evokes and demands. There is plenty of Gallic flair in the Franck, and the tension between stasis and forward movements is finely judged, resulting in some exhilarating climaxes. The interweaving of major and minor elements in the famous finale are beautifully pointed by the violin and expertly underpinned by the piano. Bell’s judicious but unashamed use of sweet tone and sweeping portamenti is entirely appropriate. Saint-Saëns’s sonata is immediately appealing, with an imposing opening movement full of fire and passion succeeded by some improvisatory languor and concluding with an elegant, high-spirited finale with a dash of gypsy fiddling thrown in. By contrast, the worldly sophistication of Ravel gives Bell a chance to display some other colours, especially in the Blues movement where the violin is by turns banjo strummer or jazz chanteuse. Bell and Denk face steep competition in the Franck; this splendid trio of sonatas makes a winning proposition. Continue…

Like me, you may have found yourself glued to the telly last April to watch the latest royal wedding. Like me, your ears may have been glued in particular to a short choral work that was sung during the ceremony. That piece was Ubi caritas by Paul Mealor, who has been described by the New York Times as “one of the most important composers to have emerged in Welsh choral music since William Mathias”. Your familiarity or otherwise with Mathias should not inform your opinion of Mealor, as his is an impressive talent. This CD features not only the little wedding gem but an entire collection of the composer’s work for choir and it’s mostly very strong. The opening quadrant of madrigals Now sleeps the crimson petal features gorgeously subtle twists of harmony and Salvator mundi tempers strident modal declamations with memorable ornamentations. However the disc dips a bit with the Stabat Mater, which tends to cycle through clichés to simplistic emotional effect (Mealor describes this as the “most personal work on the disc”, which may be revealing). Perhaps the reason Mealor has become the royals’ latest go-to composer is that he’s such a known quantity; each… Continue reading Get unlimited…

Richard Tognetti and the ACO are in sparkling form in this wonderfully enjoyable program of Grieg. The major work here is Tognetti’s skilful transcription of String Quartet No 1 in G minor, Op 27, the composer’s only extant complete work in the genre. Digging into the almost Piazzolla-like rhythms of the opening movement, the band delivers a zesty account of this colourful score. The contrasting episodes of the Romanze and the Intermezzo are handled deftly, while the concluding Saltarello has an almost manic intensity. By way of contrast we are then offered the Two Elegiac Melodies, Op 34. These popular but all too brief works are played superbly; their aching melancholy lit by beauty of tone and delicacy of ensemble. Erotikk from the Lyric Pieces is a scintillating miniature, more nostalgic than sensual, sensitively arranged by Tognetti for solo violin and orchestra. What better way to finish than with the Holberg Suite? At pains to preserve the dance-like quality of Grieg’s neo-Baroque masterpiece, the orchestra achieves a perfect blend of energy and lightness throughout. Admirable rhythmic acuity characterises the Praeludium, the courtly intimacy of the Sarabande contrasts well with the crisply accented Gavotte. The fervent Air, with its… Continue reading…

A saltarello is a medieval dance named for its leaping steps (“little hop” in Italian). One might wonder why this meditative, atmospheric album takes a lively dance form as its title when there is only one specimen on the program. In fact it’s the three players who do the jumping – across nine centuries of music, and between Garth Knox’s rustic medieval fiddle, seven-string viola d’amore and modern viola. He switches weapons seamlessly from one track to the next and demonstrates poetic phrasing and technical mastery with all three. Hildegard von Bingen’s Ave, generosa is the earliest music heard here, echoing through time in a vibrato-less, double-stopped fiddle version capturing both soaring chant and drone. A yearning vocal quality resonates throughout this inspired instrumental program, from lilting variations on the folksong Black is the Colour of my True Love’s Hair to Dowland’s Flow My Tears and Purcell’s Music for a While, unerringly matched in mood by Agnès Vesterman’s nuanced cello basslines. Hearing such timeless songs in Knox’s arrangements is to hear them as if they were always intended for these instruments. Curiously, the only work originally scored for viola d’amore, Vivaldi’s concerto RV393, is the least convincing for… Continue reading…

“Klaus Florian Vogt is Bayreuth’s leading tenor – he has a unique voice, perfect technique and last but not least the perfect look for a leading man in the works of Wagner.” Thus the marketing hype for the Sony debut of the latest heldentenor held up as the great white hope. Having enjoyed his performance as the Prince on a recent Rusalka DVD, I wish I could respond more positively to what is on offer here. Vogt kicks off with an aria from Der Freischütz – not a bad choice.  The voice is light but well suited to Weber (if occasionally phrases droop below the note). Mozart and Lortzing also sit comfortably in his clean, high, lyrical voice although here, as elsewhere, a shortage of engagement with the texts bedevil the performance.  The major problems lie with Wagner. His Lohengrin has been praised in some quarters, but the “detached quality” of the Grail-knight, that some have described as other-worldly, feels to me simply a “detached quality”. His Winterstürme is similarly passionless, while his prize song comes across as a pretty enough lied but it doesn’t really sound like the reward is worth the winning. The orchestral… Continue reading Get unlimited digital…

Bernard Herrmann’s reputation as a composer rests with his movie scores for Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock, but he also wrote several concert works. The dramatic cantata Moby Dick for two soloists, male chorus and large orchestra was composed between 1936 and 1938, before Herrmann’s film work began in earnest. Melville’s existential novel had long been the composer’s obsession, but today it is difficult to buy into the tale of Captain Ahab’s struggle with the great white whale. I confess my own opinion of whaling, namely that it is a barbaric and disgusting practice, colours my appreciation of the piece. (The novel is famously impenetrable.) Herrmann’s score is dramatic and skilfully orchestrated, befitting a born film composer, with tension deftly maintained throughout the work’s 46 minutes. On the downside there is a dearth of memorable thematic material, and the occasional use of Sprechstimme gives the work a dated radio-play quality.  Michael Schønwandt and his Danish forces could not make a better case for Moby Dick. The orchestra and chorus are distinguished by tightness of ensemble and commitment to the drama. The soloists show a similar level of involvement – Wilson-Johnson’s shout of “Death to Moby Dick!”… Continue reading Get unlimited…

Plenty of hype arrives with this release from young Polish pianist Rafal Blechacz, but little detail. My Internet trawling reveals that he was born in 1985, and at the age of 20 won all five sections of the Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw. He so impressed the judges that they awarded no second prize. Blechacz has recorded three previous discs for Deutsche Grammophon, of Chopin Preludes and concertos, and sonatas by Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven. Here he gives us a recital of early 20th-century French and Polish music. In the accompanying note Blechacz sites Michelangeli as his idol in Debussy, but his playing strikes me as less soft-edged than that of the mighty Italian. There is a crispness to the Toccata from Pour le piano, and a bell-like ping to the pentatonic peals of Pagodes from the Estampes suite, that bring to mind his older Polish compatriot Krystian Zimermann. High praise indeed. Blechacz’s fluidity and supreme dynamic control are astonishing, and he shows attention to fine detail. He can also produce a full tone, as in the radiant climax to L’Isle joyeuse, without it turning clangourous. He is equally fine in the Szymanowski pieces, but… Continue reading Get unlimited digital…

This year marks the 300th anniversary of the birth of that gifted flautist, composer and enlightened patron of the arts, King Frederick the Great of Prussia. To celebrate, Emmanuel Pahud presents a 2-CD set of works by the glittering circle of musicians that Frederick gathered about him in Berlin. He kicks off with what is probably the most impressive work on the disc, one of CPE Bach’s most magnificent concertos, which shows the forward-looking qualities that make him the most interesting composer of the period. We then have charming works by Benda, Quantz and a promising example by the royal master himself. All are delightful. The second CD is even better, its more intimate chamber works ranging from a Trio Sonata from JS Bach’s Musical Offering through to two compelling sonatas from Bach’s eldest son. Frederick’s contribution is complemented by that of his (more talented?) sister, Anna Amalia, Princess of Prussia. It goes without saying that Pahud, principal flautist with the Berlin Philharmonic, shines throughout and although he eschews a period instrument his style is perfectly tempered to the performance practice of the day. The Kammerakademie Potsdam provides spirited support, led by the excellent Trevor… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access…

Salvatore Licitra’s tragic death in a motorcycle accident last year hit the opera world hard. The tenor was one of his generation’s brightest stars, and at just 43 should have had a long and distinguished career ahead of him. Now Sony – with whom Licitra recorded a number of operas and solo albums – has released this 2-CD compilation in his honour. It’s a thrilling, poignant celebration of an artist in his prime, his voice bright, muscular and brimming with emotion. Most of the great Italian tenor repertoire is represented here – Verdi and Puccini dominate, along with various verismo favourites. From the bracing bravado of Di quella pira to a lovely Addio, fiorito asil, Licitra is in magnificent form. It’s repertoire he was born to sing: Cavaradossi, Canio, Manrico and all their brethren fit him ideally. The second disc shows Licitra’s lighter side, with selections from the album Duetto (with tenor Marcelo Álvarez) and previously unreleased recordings of Italian songs. Clearly aimed at the crossover market, the duets are on the syrupy side, but the quality of the singing is exceptional. Better yet are Licitra’s charming renditions of songs like Funiculi funiculà and O… Continue reading Get unlimited digital…

In 1960, Italian pianist Maurizio Pollini won the International Chopin Piano Competition. EMI instantly took him to the recording studio, where he made a famous recording of Chopin’s E-Minor Piano Concerto with conductor Paul Kletzki. It has never left the catalogue. As music lovers and recording executives began rubbing their hands in anticipation, Pollini recorded the two sets of Chopin Études – but the young artist was not ready to be drawn into this whirlwind. Further sessions produced personality clashes, and Pollini abandoned recording for ten years. Eventually he signed an exclusive contract with Deutsche Grammophon. At Pollini’s insistence the EMI Études were never released. Fifty years later the recording is in the public domain and makes its debut, newly remastered from Testament. The stress and the arguments are ancient history. What remains is the brilliance of a young virtuoso in pieces that are designed to show off keyboard prowess: not only speed and accuracy but also the pianist’s way with legato (a melting Étude Op 25 No 1). This is very good 1960 piano sound. The instrument is recorded in close-up, as opposed to the concert hall acoustic Pollini has favoured since. Close scrutiny is… Continue reading Get unlimited…

I dimly recall a Decca release in the early 1970s of Ashkenazy in the Rachmaninov Suite No 1 (Fantasie Tableau for two pianos, Op 5) with André Previn. I doubt whether it could have had more charm than this performance from Vladimir and his son Vovka. The rapport between the two pianists is seemingly effortless in drawing the listener into this magical music. I particularly responded to the gentle swirling effects of the introductory barcarolle and to the alternating intensity and ravishing lyricism of the central two movements, La Nuit, L’Amour (“Night…Love”) and Les larmes, (“Tears”). Night on the Bald Mountain doesn’t have quite the same spellbinding quality. I found the staccato passages a little relentless, although there’s clearly no other way to play them. Glinka’s Valse-Fantasie lends itself perfectly to duo piano treatment. It could have been penned by Tchaikovsky at his most melancholy.  Wonderful as they are, not even the spectacular virtuosity and chemistry of these two pianists can replicate the colour, glamour and visceral excitement of the orchestral version of Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor. The Scriabin Fantasy in A Minor is somewhat more structured and less amorphous than so much of his… Continue reading Get unlimited digital…