Sibelius’s Fourth is, for me, the most enigmatic symphony ever written. Both the second movement scherzo and finale trail off elliptically. Inkinen and his New Zealanders capture the intense bleakness of the first movement (described by one commentator as “groping in utter darkness in order to avoid the abyss, aided only by the occasional shaft of weak sunlight”). In the slow movement, the temperature drops to absolute zero – the subatomic particles simply stop vibrating – and here, these forces are up with the best. In the finale, perhaps the strangest movement of all, Inkinen cleaves to the glockenspiel (instead of chimes), whose silvery sonority is, on the face of it, the most incongruous instrument Sibelius could have chosen: it can sometimes remind you of The Nutcracker, or even worse, Der Rosenkavalier. Not here, thank heavens! I’m not quite as taken with the Fifth, although it has many… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Just as I’d begun to wonder if Ashkenazy has anything interesting to say about Mahler, this perfomance completely restored my confidence. It’s long been almost a truism to opine that no one will ever dislodge the Klemperer/Ludwig/Wunderlich recording, but this one yields to no one in its beauty and honesty. Both soloists are excellent. Stuart Skelton negotiates the orchestral tuttis of the first song (The Drinking Song of the Earth’s Sorrow) like a true heldentenor, seething with bitterness and contempt while never being swamped by the huge climaxes nor resorting to bluster or rant. In the second song, The Lonely One in Autumn, Lilli Paasikivi is perfect, conveying the sense of unhappy solitude while the orchestral accompaniment conveys a real autumnal chill. In Of Beauty her articulation and breath control during the manic so-called ‘horseback’ interlude are miraculous. In the wrong hands this passage… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Georgian violinist Lisa Batiashvili has joined the ranks of Znaider, Ehnes, Hahn, Benedetti et al with this magnificent rendition of Shostakovich’s First Violin Concerto – now virtually a calling card for every violin wizard. While any of David Oistrakh’s various versions of this work remain sans pareil (at least in interpretative terms) she’s still up against formidable competition. The kaleidoscopic combination of moods – ranging from the dark solemnity and emotional bleakness of the introduction to the exquisitely haunted lyricism of the passacaglia movement, to the manic, sardonic scherzo and final burlesque – clearly hold no terrors for her and her tempi, seemingly slower than usual, enhance the reading. Throughout, her playing radiates profound emotion. This is musicianship of a very high order. The other music on the CD is Giya Kancheli’s V and V for violin and taped voice with string orchestra, Shostakovich’s Lyrical Waltz from The Seven Dolls Suite arranged by her father, Arvo Pärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel (“Mirror in the Mirror”) and Rachmaninov’s Vocalise, all played with… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Despite the received wisdom that his music is dry and academic, much of the material is energetic and convivial – even witty. The viola was his instrument and he composed seven sonatas for it, in addition to these pieces. The two neo-classical works, Konzertmusik Op 48 and Kammermusik No 5, are 20th-century takes on Handel’s Concerti Grossi and Bach’s Brandenburg Concerti respectively and feature masterful orchestration – especially in the superlative woodwind writing and bustling outer movements – while affording ample scope for the viola’s exquisitely soulful qualities. His only fully fledged concerto for the viola was Der Schwanendreher (“The Swan Turner”). This is based on old German folksongs, played by an iterant fiddler (the viola soloist), in an attempt to evoke the spirit of a more innocent age; understandable, considering Germany’s increasingly bleak political climate (Hindemith was resolutely anti-Nazi). This is the… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

I was somewhat baffled by this CD. It’s clearly a promotional tool for Stuart & Sons Pianos on the new Leatham Music label, produced by Gregory Lewis and engineered by Trevor Doddridge in All Saints Anglican Church, Albury. Fair enough, but the title, Beauties and Beasts, becomes rather confusing. The inclusion of the four-handed arrangement of Ravel’s Mother Goose Suite is fine, especially since one movement is called Beauty and the Beast. The next piece, Part 1 of Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, is understandable, although the abrupt, unresolved ending makes it more like a “bleeding chunk”. I was also reminded of Stravinsky’s remark that Karajan’s first interpretation of his Rite of Spring was a “pet savage, not a real one!” The second two works on the CD hardly reinforce the theme: Schubert’s Waltzes, Op 18A, radiate Biedemeier charm and Gemütlichkeit but are hardly… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

This distinguished performance of a much maligned work, more a symphonic cantata than a real symphony, will no doubt form another step in its rehabilitation, although it’s doubtful that Lobgesang “Hymn of Praise” will ever occupy the same exalted rank as the Scottish or Italian Symphonies. It was composed in 1840 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of printing with moveable type – it’s always intrigued me that the powers that be apparently saw fit to celebrate in religious terms the invention of what, in its time, must have caused as great an explosion of knowledge and information as the Internet and Google have done in ours. With at least one Anglican clergyman among my own ancestors, I’ve no wish to denigrate the Protestant religion, which was in itself a major liberating force in Western Europe, but with Mendelssohn everything often ends up sounding Lutheran. That said, this is an absolute cracker, as a performance, recording and interpretation. Märkl invests the opening movement with admirable vigour, as if determined to sweep away portentousness; the Adagio is also purged of etiolated Victorian piety (just!) The unusual combination of singers (two sopranos and a… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per…

It’s also impossible to do justice to it (the playing of the São Paulo Orchestra is excellent) or the range of its content. Generally, the Choros, originally street music or serenades for any particular combination of instruments but expanded by Villa-Lobos sometimes to include voices, fare better in inverse proportion to their length and scoring, The shorter ones for a smaller combination of instruments are charming and inventive, although there’s not much “jungle” music. The longest, No. 11, composed for Artur Rubinstein of all people, seems, at more than an hour, interminable, and like many of the other longer pieces, sounds like the score to a third-rate film where Yma Sumac is dragged to a volcano as a human sacrifice, amid a few eight octave leaps. The Bachianas Brasileiras generally fare better. No. 5 for soprano and cellos and the toccata from No 2 The Little Train of the Caipira are the only pieces of this vast oeuvre at all known. The Bachianas really do reveal a high level of inspiration throughout and I most enjoyed the samba/bossa nova touches. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Allegedly his favourite, it’s the only one not subjected to disfiguring (often disastrous) cuts and revisions by others, or the composer himself. The stately introduction to the First Movement, revisited at the start of both the Second and Fourth, the strange stop/start scherzo with its aborted waltz which never seems to get going properly, the strangely jaunty, almost ironic, Till Eulenspiegel-like clarinet theme before the titanic fugue of the Finale are all wonderful. All Bruckner Symphonies are, to an extent, architectural, but the Fifth is, like the Eighth, the symphonic equivalent of a gothic cathedral. What amazes me about this recording and performance is the heft and richness of the sound achieved with only 67 musicians. Interpretively, this is one of Bruckner’s trickiest symphonies in terms of tempo fluctuations which threaten the overarching structure. Herreweghe negotiates these successfully without them sounding like awkward gear changes, especially in the complex First Movement, where the slower, quieter passages assume an intensely introverted quality which suits the music admirably. That only four horn players in final brass chorale can achieve such an apotheosis is miraculous. This is a wonderful alternative to the Karajan’s one and Jochum’s three versions. Continue reading Get unlimited digital…

Paavo Järvi’s glowering stare from the cover of this CD reminded me unnervingly of Vladimir Putin, perhaps not at all inappropriately in this, Shostakovich’s “Stalin” Symphony, arguably his greatest. At almost 56 minutes, Järvi’s reading is one of the longest, yet there are no longueurs. In a work fraught with challenges – the 25-minute opening movement can easily drag without maintaining tension through its kaleidoscopic moods – Järvi is utterly convincing.  It’s clear he has consolidated the legacy of Jesús López-Cobos in transforming the Cincinnati players into a virtuoso ensemble. Does any other symphony, even Shostakovich’s, have such extremes between the sinister brooding and the euphoric? The manic passages in Järvi’s scherzo are truly and virtuosically vicious, but for me the most interesting movement was the andante third, where the sinister mechanical strutting and brooding is interrupted periodically by horn calls (cries for help or reminders that humanity still exists?) and Järvi handles both the end and the transition to the opening of the finale with woodwind playing of exquisite delicacy and phrasing. In the final climax, the orchestral textures and clarity are exemplary. The Overture No. 2 by the Estonian Veljo Tormis (b, 1930) belies its mundane title as a…

Even the Adagio in Klemperer’s legendary account sounds resolutely dry-eyed and casual. Klaus Tennstedt had an Indian summer of justified adulation from both audiences and orchestras in Britain, Europe and the US after a life in former communist Germany, but his career was nobbled by inner demons and crippling self-doubt. This performance is partly a disappointment. The first movement is played straight with little light and shade and a distinct lack of involvement. The big cataclysmic moments simply aren’t big or cataclysmic enough. Similarly, the scherzo, shorn of every repeat, lacks the demonic quality with which Klemperer, superb here – with virtually every repeat – imbues it. However, in the adagio, Tennstedt is superb. At almost 19 minutes, he’s as slow as Furtwängler and just as profoundly moving, especially in the way he floats the sublime second subject. The finale is similarly fine at the other extreme, with one of the most energised readings I’ve heard despite not sounding at all rushed. The London Philharmonic Orchestra and Chorus are in good form and the soloists are all fine. The sound, despite being recorded in the Royal Festival Hall, is also bright. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per…

It was interesting, that despite his considerable discography, none of his recordings was considered good enough for the recent ABC Classic FM Symphony Countdown, confirming my theory that Rattle’s never recorded anything that hasn’t been done better by at least several other conductors. This Brahms cycle, virtually a rite of passage for Chief Conductors of the Berlin Philharmonic, doesn’t have any startling revelations, but is unlikely to disappoint either and improves as it progresses. To describe the playing as wonderful is hardly revelatory either. Rattle certainly unleashes the incomparable firepower in the finale of the First and, somewhat inappropriately, in the first movement of the Second Symphony – no pastoral idyll here. The Third Symphony receives a glowing performance with steady tempos and the intermezzo-like third movement has a particularly autumnal radiance. The visionary Fourth is sublime from start to finish, with the tango-like rhythm of the opening especially seductive in Rattle’s hands and the passacaglia finale (Brahms’s greatest symphonic movement?) sublimely phrased. My two quibbles are that Rattle does not observe the first movement repeats in the First and Second Symphonies, yet does in the third. The other is the atrociously niggardly playing… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access…

Most people who want the much-recorded music by Elgar and Co will already have it, and mostly in better performances. Those who only want the contemporary works by Nicolas Maw et al will likely not want Holst’s Planets or the Walton works. Doubtless there is a droll side to packaging the Dream of Gerontius with Three Screaming Popes (surely a CD first!) but I don’t imagine that was the aim. So the collection has to be for the Rattle fan club. Setting aside my usual reservations about the conductor (had he been on the scene in the 1950s he would simply have been one of a large number of excellent conductors), these are all perfectly good performances. In the case of the more contemporary music, better than that. Rattle is excellent in this repertoire, making a case for even the most unrewarding scores. For me, the musical utterances of composers such as Turnage often leave a great deal to be desired. Whereas Thomas Adès’s marvellous Asyla, has altogether more colour and variety. The bag of Elgar is mixed. Falstaff is appropriately brisk. The Enigma is excellent. The Gerontius indulgent; with Janet Baker a shadow of her former self, and Nigel…