Lincoln Center’s 2015 production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s 1951 musical The King and I was well reviewed. Ben Brantley in the New York Times called it “a colonialist-minded musical that… should probably embarrass us in the age of political correctness.” His contention was that it did not. I’m less certain. On disc the Overture reminds you immediately that this is Rodgers’ show. His ability to craft a memorably turned melody with unexpected harmonic underpinnings is superb. I Have Dreamed and Hello Young Lovers are masterpieces. Yet, as the songs progress, you can’t help feeling that Hammerstein’s work remains stubbornly of its time.  Kelli O’Hara sings Anna perfectly, although her English vowels are too studied. Ken Watanabe was strong as The King onstage, but makes little impression vocally. Ashley Park’s Tuptim has all the notes, but it’s a squally voice with a fast, wide vibrato; by contrast, Conrad Ricamora as her lover Lun Tha sounds very 21st-century Broadway. Ruthie Ann Mills performs Lady Thiang’s song Something Wonderful beautifully, and it’s good to hear Robert Russell Bennett’s original orchestrations. The Small House of Uncle Thomas is included, which is long and musically arid without visuals. But mainly, you can’t help feeling that…

Decca and Erato revisit the works and early recordings of the recently departed French nonagenarian. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Antony Gray’s set of the complete piano music of Francis Poulenc is, to paraphrase Orwell, more complete than others. Besides the many pieces written expressly for solo piano it contains Poulenc’s music accompanying the story of Barbar the Elephant (sans narration) and several transcriptions of other works including the Sonata for Two Clarinets, the Sonata for Horn, Trumpet and Trombone, and the ballet Les Animeaux Modèles. The latter was arranged by the composer, so it is more than a mere piano reduction for rehearsal purposes. There is also an arrangement of Mozart’s Musical Joke. Hence, five CDs as opposed to Pascal Rogé’s three. Gray has previously given us welcome surveys of piano music by Eugene Goossens and Malcolm Williamson, but here he enters a highly competitive field. Beginning with the composer himself (who recorded the Mouvements Perpétuels, the Two Novelettes and a selection of Nocturnes and Improvisations in the 1920s and 30s), many extensive selections of Poulenc’s piano music have appeared. Among French pianists are the composer’s friend and duo-piano partner Jacques Février, Gabriel Tacchino, Rogé, and more recently Éric Le Sage. Poulenc’s light touch is compelling; he plays his music as though he were improvising it. English pianist Paul…

Media recluse he may be, but Sokolov in Salzburg is a definite must-have for all piano aficionados. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Hans Gál (1890-1987) was one of those composers of Jewish heritage who fled Nazi Germany. While many headed to the USA, Gál went to England, where he was interred as an enemy alien and imprisoned alongside actual Nazis. His sister perished during The Holocaust and later he lost his 18-year-old son to suicide. After the war, Gál taught at Edinburgh University and was instrumental in setting up the Edinburgh Festival. He continued to compose, though like other refugee composers he did so in a vacuum. He regarded himself as a craftsman: when forced to spend time in hospital in his 80s, he committed himself to writing a fugue every day. Gál enjoyed a burgeoning reputation before life’s vicissitudes intervened. His four symphonies span his entire creative career: the First was written in 1927 and the Fourth in 1974. Nevertheless, his style and language remained consistent. The turmoil of the times is not reflected in his music. Evidently he turned to composition for escape and solace. His symphonic music is redolent of the English pastoral school – even the First, written before he came to England. That work is probably closest to modernism, with its cheeky Scherzo and buoyant, extrovert finale,……

Music lovers over 50 will recall the Ace of Clubs label: a series of reissues of mono recordings from the 1950s. They sold in Australia for $2.95, enticingly cheaper than full price stereo LPs at $5.95. The latest in a series of Decca Sound boxes, delving into the old Decca catalogue, brings back many of those recordings, encased in reproductions of the original sleeves and with bonus tracks to take each CD beyond 70 minutes.  Decca’s Full Frequency Range sound quality was always a feature and is enhanced in the digital remastering, although violin sections are occasionally toppy. For instance, you have to listen through the harsh string sound of Elgar’s Introduction and Allegro to appreciate the bracing vitality of Anthony Collins’s performance. His Falstaff has no such caveat: it sounds great and is enthralling from beginning to end. Sadly there is too much here to cover in a short review. Conductors include stalwarts like Ansermet, Argenta, Boult, Martinon, Fistoulari, Erich Kleiber (beautifully unaffected in Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony), Van Beinum, and the earliest discs by Solti: a riveting Bartók Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta and a lively Haydn Symphony No 100. Unique and celebrated recordings abound: Britten’s Diversions with…

A beautifully produced tribute celebrates the great violinist’s 70th birthday.

How can a miniaturist have delusions of grandeur? The Russian composer Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915) showed the way. Overwhelmingly a writer for the piano, Scriabin modeled his early works on Chopin, and adopted the Polish master’s forms: etudes, preludes, nocturnes, scherzos, waltzes and mazurkas. He also wrote ten piano sonatas, along with three symphonies and a few other orchestral works, but no opera and very little vocal or chamber music.  As he matured, Scriabin stretched the boundaries of chromatic harmony. His late miniatures such as the ‘poème’ Vers la Flamme of 1914 are practically atonal. In his final years he assumed a messianic self-regard, conceiving of a vast musical event complete with light shows and massed choirs. For a short time Scriabin was thought to represent the future of serious music. He certainly thought so, but did not live long enough to see the post-war abandonment of Romanticism. A hundred years after his death we are in a position to revisit his work without the mystical-philosophical baggage, and to appreciate its exquisite craftsmanship. These 18 discs cover everything: all the piano music from a Waltz Op. 1 to Five Preludes Op. 74, and many works without opus numbers. Vladimir Ashkenazy, who…

With LP nostalgia now playing a major role in classical music purchases, we open our ears to a blast from the past.

★★★★★ Compelling programme proves the Finn is, as promised, a “triple threat”.

Throughout his long pianistic career, Vladimir Ashkenazy has made celebrated recordings of the music of Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915). Most notable are those of the Piano Concerto and Prometheus (with Maazel), plus his recording of the Piano Sonatas. All date from the 1980s or earlier. This new recital, made up of sets of etudes, mazurkas, poémes and various other groups of short pieces, was recorded as recently as December 2014. The works span the short-lived composer’s entire career. Although Ashkenazy is still in good shape, I find him too heavy-handed in this repertoire. The early works are modelled on Chopin and require polish, while the harmonically diffuse and mysterious late works need delicacy, which they certainly get from Horowitz or Sofronitsky. Ashkenazy shines when Scriabin comes closest to his contemporary Rachmaninov, as in the Eight Etudes, Opus 42. Barnstorming does not seem out of place here. The pianist is clearly engaged in the few miniatures that are specifically pictorial, such as the depiction of birds in the second of the Three Pieces, Opus 45. The late Vers la Flamme, in its harmonic restlessness and improvisatory form, sounds uncannily like modern jazz (no surprise that Bill Evans played Scriabin for practice). Ashkenazy…

Ravel's Trio the crowning glory of a thrilling and memorable French concert.