Walton’s First is one of the most outstanding symphonies of the 20th century, the turbulent energies of which are apparently the result of the composer’s failing relationship with one Imma von Doernberg. The exultant final movement burst out after a fresh encounter with one Alice Wimborne. Whatever the inspiration, it stands with the Elgar symphonies at the peak of English orchestral composition. A pity such passion had not fired the Second Symphony; compare the ravishing slow movement of the First with that of the Second… The latter seems almost an afterthought.  Premiered in 1957, the Second Symphony fell afoul of the “toot, whistle, plunk and boom” school of music that held contemporary classical music to ransom for the following 40 years. We now know better and the symphony can be seen for what it is: an excellent if minor work. It is drier and less moving than the First, stylistically at one with many great 20th-century composers such as William Schuman, Sibelius and Roy Harris. Never at fault is Walton’s brilliant orchestration. These are excellent performances and good value for money. The finest Walton First is still the 1967 recording with the LSO under André Previn on RCA. (Sargent’s better-played…

It seems hard to countenance today but in 1941 it was possible for a man to pass into legend who was not only a composer and the highest-paid musician of his day but also the Prime Minister of his country. The country in question was Poland; the man: Ignacy Jan Paderewski. As a tribute to his charismatic genius, boosey and Hawkes commissioned an anthology from 17 of the leading contemporary composers, which forms the starting point for this fascinating CD. The line-up of the great and the good forms a curious state-of-the-nation snapshot of music in the midst of WWII, for all of the composers were resident in North America at the time – some unable to return to their homelands. Represented here with distinction we find Bartók (cheating with the rehashed Three Hungarian Folk-Tunes), Milhaud, Castelnuovo-Tedesco (a charming mazurka), Goossens (a clever Homage based on Chopin’s C-minor Prelude), Martinu (another tangy mazurka) and even Britten, although the latter misunderstood the commission and composed a melancholy piece for two pianos. It’s good to see Australian-born Arthur Benjamin contributing an impressive, wistful Elegiac Mazurka. My personal favourite among many unknown gems was Stojowski’s delicate Cradle Song. The excellent british pianist Jonathan…

With highly regarded complete editions of Schubert’s and Schumann’s songs to their name, Hyperion has embarked on another such venture, this time recording all the lieder of Brahms. Angelika Kirchschlager and Graham Johnson inaugurated the series last year, and now soprano Christine Schäfer, also accompanied by Johnson, has made her contribution. More appealing, if hardly less cheerful, than its miserable cover photo, this recital shows Schäfer on top form, combining artistry with a crystal-clear voice. Her rather delicate soprano is at its loveliest in the ethereal Ophelia-Lieder and in the six folksongs which end the recital, but when expansiveness is required – as in the Mädchenfluch – she’s quite compelling. Schäfer’s bright, compact soprano is not one in which to luxuriate: her word painting is excellent, but her palette is inherently limited, and there’s a certain whiteness to the voice which occasionally grows wearying, particularly in such a stylistically similar program. But her sweetness of timbre and her textual acuity usually win out in the end, and she has a gift for capturing the emotional vicissitudes of this often turbulent poetry – the intense, sometimes erotic Mädchenlieder (not written as a cycle, but evidently envisaged by the composer as a group)…

Christine Brewer is best known for her towering assumptions of Wagner and Richard Strauss’s most dramatic heroines. This charming new release by Hyperion finds the American soprano in a more intimate mode, however, paying tribute to the art of the recital encore as perfected by some of Brewer’s grandest predecessors – Kirsten Flagstad, Eileen Farrell, Helen Traubel and Eleanor Steber. Inspired by her teacher, who had heard all these ladies in recital and collected their encores, Brewer brings warmth and affection to this varied selection of final flourishes. These songs, with their sentimental lyrics and often predictable musical forms (you’ll see the crescendi coming a mile off), might be an acquired taste for some, but for others they’ll be heartwarmingly familiar, and Brewer’s golden soprano and good humour should be difficult for even hardened cynics to resist. A program like this risks being too much of a good thing – there’s a reason, after all, that these songs were used as encores and not core repertoire – but the innate heft of Brewer’s voice more or less counterbalances the repertoire’s most sugary excesses, and the selection strikes a balance between showpieces and simple ballads. Roger Vignoles enters wonderfully into the…

On Liszt’s 200th birthday, Leslie Howard proves the composer-pianist was no empty showman. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Anyone familiar with Schubert’s murderous Die Nonne (The Nun) or Mendelssohn’s frenzied Hexenlied will know the extremes to which a 19th-century composer might go in order to send shivers up the collective spines of his audience with a ghoulish musical yarn. But if an hour of such fare fills you with trepidation, fear not, for with Canadian baritone Gerald Finley and pianist Julius Drake you will be in very safe hands.   This is a brilliantly constructed program of tales told through poetry and music, ranging from blockbusters like Erlkönig, a most deeply felt Lost Chord and ending with a razor-sharp Cole Porter ballad about a social-climbing oyster who goes down the wrong way with inevitable results. Finley is clearly a singer at the very top of his game – the voice always used with intelligence; full, resonant and flexible. I would be hard pressed to think of a rival today who could finesse these songs with such grace, nuance and sheer vocal acting. Drake is in his element as well, breathing fire or exuding pathos in turn.  Standouts include a hypnotic rendition of Edward, Loewe’s tale of patricide revealed, as well as a chilling Der Feuerreiter – Wolf’s ballad of the legendary, mad…

The British pianist talks politics, blogs, bowler hats and trying his hand at composition. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

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.

Chopin's waltzes may be mere soufflés, but they are very tasty ones, says the British pianist.

What comes across most vividly in the Scottish pianist’s recordings, particularly in Impressionist repertoire, is a deep and joyous engagement with the sonorities of his instrument. Here he offers up some of the most fluid and vibrant Ravel I’ve ever heard, superior to Louis Lortie’s and to the earlier Hyperion survey by Angela Hewitt. Gaspard de la nuit is the true test of technique for any Ravelian. While Osborne doesn’t quite attain the mirage-like perfection of Martha Argerich’s reading, his Gaspard is impeccably played, bringing darkness and mystery to the fore. Le tombeau de Couperin is faster and livelier than that of Anne Queffélec (whose interpretation he acknowledges as an influence) but loses none of the delicate refinement or lilting dance character. As for the other famous works on the disc: in Pavane for a dead princess, Osborne shows just the right amount of restraint and eschews the tendency – much lamented by Ravel – to play too slowly in the manner of a dirge. The solo piano version of La Valse was intended as a rehearsal score for the work famously rejected by Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes. As the pianist explains in his thoughtful liner note, it is not always included in Ravel piano collections but Osborne himself fleshed out…

The Australian pianist’s 99-CD traversal of the complete Liszt piano music is a staggering achievement. Now it’s available as a download. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

We gathered a panel of Limelight reviewers, ABC Classic FM producers and industry experts to choose the finest recordings of the 21st century so far. Listen to them here!