Miscellaneous reviews of recordings involving Enescu as a composer or performer not included in the 2005 survey articles Evan Dickerson
George ENESCU (18811955) Cello Sonata in C major, op. 26 N° 2 (1935) [34.20] Nocturne and Saltarello for cello and piano (c.1897) [6.42] Cello Sonata in F minor, op. 26 N° 1 (1898) [28.45] Viviane Spanoghe (cello) André de Groote (pano) DDD. TALENT DOM 2910 79 [70.05]
http://www.musicwebinternational.com/classrev/2006/Nov06/Enescu_dom291079.htm#ixzz6MgutSy5j This CD has been in my collection for some time. The accounts it offers of Enescu’s two cello sonatas show commitment to and much enthusiasm for the music. If one were to go by opus numbers alone one might think the two sonatas had been composed in close proximity – not so. Enescu more than once paired works of the same type under the same opus number, even if their composition was separated by many years. Unusually, this disc presents the second sonata as the first to be heard. This release is notable for offering the world premiere recording of the Nocturne and Saltarello, a short work, known to have been performed during the first recital of Enescu’s compositions in Paris during 1897. The score was long thought lost, but it came to light again in 1994. Such was the energy of Enescu’s creative mind that his many shorter chamber compositions carry as much to engage both performer and listener alike that they are worthy of wider attention than they often receive. This Nocturne and Saltarello definitely belongs in that category, along with a clutch of other works featuring solo violin, a Concert Allegro for harp and Cantabile e Presto for flute and piano (both 1904), Légende for trumpet and piano (1905) and the Concert Piece for viola and piano (1906). Listening to the Nocturne you can hear some of Enescu’s mature musical approaches in the early stages of their development. Richly lyrical, this is music that has distinct influences left by the French compositional school – he studied under Massenet and knew Fauré, Ravel amongst others – yet a youthful love of Brahms also seems not too distant from his mind. The Saltarello is made to contrast well in the playing of de Groote and Spanoghe: they pick up the tempo and invest it with much bite and attack. Although folk elements may be evident in the writing, they are of Enescu’s making rather than from authentic sources, and he utilizes them with a deftly cultured touch.
The first sonata’s opening movement – marked allegro molto moderato – is a mixture of unison playing and closely argued chorale and fugal writing that betray yet again a combination of French and Brahmsian influences. The players bring out the drive behind the music - derived from a repeated three-note sequence (F-G-A flat) - to good effect, and further succeed in contrasting this with more introspective passages that also are founded on the same material. The allegretto scherzando second movement is full of inner musical flow between the instruments. Memories of a Viennese scherzo from Enescu’s years at the Conservatoire obviously pervade the music, and the major-minor harmonics are most delicately handled. Likewise Brahmsian in character, the feeling continues into the third movement. The ruminative quality of the music is evident in Spanoghe’s deep, rich cello tone; for the most part de Groote holds the piano part under a veil of restraint. The work’s presto finale is largely classical in form, with the instruments playing against each other in a manner that appropriately draws upon elements from the preceding movements and builds to a formidably energetic conclusion. A strength of this performance is that the music is performed at a genuine presto tempo whilst finding inner space for reflective elements as a seamless part of the whole. The second sonata, written 37 years after the first, works along a very different basis of structure and enquiry, as its concerns are less to do with form than with variation of tonal colour. Indeed, the structure only begins to come clear some way in, such is the inventiveness with which Enescu treats mood as a thematic device. The first movement’s internal contrasts are broadly painted with boldness of line and feeling for nuance; Spanoghe often observing the minute differences in tonal shading that Enescu requires. De Groote is hardly less subtle in his handling of the piano part. The second movement is suitably agitato, following the marked indication, but it evolves through long lines with emotion held in restraint to balance passages of more effusive character. The third and fourth movements come as close as Enescu’s third violin sonata to expressing his feeling for Romanian folk music, even though the melodies he employs are his own. The third movement clearly carries the atmosphere of a doina in it; a doina being a melancholic melody with roots in both speech and song. Enescu transforms this into a passage of high art. The final movement, marked à la roumaine – allegro sciolto, relies on both Lydian and pentatonic melodies. It incorporates glissandi and quarter-tones in the cello part, whilst the piano is asked to play ‘rustico’ to imitate the sound of a Romanian ţambal. As was noted with the earlier works Enescu’s romantic leanings are also on display, but here they are firmly within his own musical language. Spanoghe and de Groote might not approach the music with as much instinct as some – Ilea and Licoreţ on Olympia/Electrecord or Aneculaesei (see review link below) – but they are respectful of Enescu’s many demands and seek to get inside his idiom with some success. The sound is full and forward, though not too much so. The liner notes are generally informative, but Fauré is called a "younger musician", which is clearly inaccurate. This is a disc that contains persuasive accounts of all three works and shows much dedication to Enescu’s music. Were I after a single recording of the sonatas for my library any already mentioned would give pleasure. Cello sonatas these might be, but it is unwise to neglect the piano’s contribution to the whole. The sheer variety of tone that Donald Sulzen’s instrument brings to Arte Nova’s budget price release would make it my first choice, despite de Groote’s highly nuanced sense of touch on this Talent disc.
George ENESCU (1881-1955) Cello Sonata in F minor, op. 26 N°1 (1898) [40.43] Cello Sonata in C major, op. 26 N° 2 (1935) [35.27] Maria Aneculaesei (cello) Jan Michiels (piano) rec. November 2004,at Studio Steurbaut, Belguim. QUALUNQUE 5411499 09022 [76.11] http://www.musicwebinternational.com/classrev/2006/Jun06/Enescu_Cello_541149909022.htm#ixzz6MgvSoS9X For a composer whose worldly fame during his lifetime was as a violinist, Enescu’s two cello sonatas have proved popular on disc, this being the fourth pairing I know of – and it came to my attention via the MusicWeb Bulletin Board. The first factor that stands out is the relative playing time of the disc – it comes at anywhere between three and nine minutes longer than alternative versions. Ilea/Licereţ on Olympia/Electrecord and Zank/Sulzen on Arte Nova, I would class as the front-runners. I do not see much wrong with a more expansive and lyrical view of Enescu’s writing, which is what you get here, but in overall terms the drama of the works is not so much negated as painted on a smaller scale. For some, particularly if used to the more punchy interpretations listed above, this may take a little getting used to. However, this does not mean the works are entirely without dramatic contrast as played here. Take the opening of the first sonata, punchy piano chords announce a strong opening to which the cello responds, later proceeding to moments of inner repose before joining the piano again in an extended lyrical song of simplicity (in the cello line) accompanied by the piano with great feeling. The connecting passages are perhaps a little more tentative than with other performers, but Enescu’s writing can take it. The lighter of foot section that follows is given with tenderness, although here as before the piano tone seems prominently placed within the recording. When things pick up tempo and dynamic again a greater presence to the cello line would have been welcome, though this is not for lack of trying on the part of Maria Aneculaesei. Of the version on Arte Nova (74321 54461 2) featuring Gerhard Zank and Donald Sulzen, I wrote in June 2005: “Were it not for the music, and the lively interpretations and singing line of Zank’s cello, this recording would still find its way on to my list of treasured items. This must be one of the most perfectly voiced piano recordings ever made, making for a genuine partnership in response to the music: listen for example to the interaction in the last two movements of the second sonata. Gloriously uplifting music-making all round.”
Since then I have become better acquainted with the Ilea/Licereţ on Olympia/Electrecord, and although I find the pianism of Nicolae Licereţ more moving, I must confess Sulzen still has the finer instrument. All of which shows what Jan Michiels is up against here, but he copes gainfully, producing power and restraint,as the music demands, with ease. Restraint – the starting point of all crescendi – is felt and thrillingly delivered in the first sonata’s third movement. The second sonata stands out even amongst the works of Enescu as something of sophistication and individuality. It starts with extended soulful simplicity (at least on the outside) before proceeding to an allegro agitato that the composer spoke if in terms expressing “liberation, sincerity and courage”. As a bearer of these values for the Romanian people nowhere are these more felt in his cello writing than the powerfully evocative Final à la Roumaine, which holds a path parallel to that of his third violin sonata in inspiration. Following as it does the Andantino, scored to begin with for solo cello, the effect is truly one of emotional release, and many Romanians I know say how these passages touch on something almost indefinable in the national psyche. Befitting this moving music the performance it receives here shows honesty in tone, and a certain apt fragility too. That leads to growing confidence and feeling that underlines the powerful sentiments Enescu sought to capture in sound.
George ENESCU (1881–1955) Piano Music, Vol. 2 CD1: Prelude and Fugue in C major (1903) [15:10]; Nocturne in D flat major (1907) [20:27]; Scherzo (1896) [5:58]; Pièce sur le nom de Fauré (1922) [3:05] CD2: Piano Sonata No. 1 in F sharp minor Op. 24/1 (1924) [25:08]; Piano Sonata No. 3 in D major Op. 24/3 (1934) [23:30] Luiza Borac (piano) rec. 4-5, 7 July 2005, St. Dunstan’s Church, Mayfield, England AVIE AV2081
[44:50 + 48:53]
http://www.musicwebinternational.com/classrev/2006/Mar06/Enescu_AV2081.htm#ixzz6MgyNf64S
I echo many comments made by my colleague Göran Forsling about this set, but in some respects I can provide additional perspectives too. It follows Luiza Borac’s admirable first release of Enescu’s piano suites – a landmark recording and real ear-opener in many ways – as this one too proves to be. Arguably the major works in this set, in terms or artistic stature, are the two piano sonatas, though that is not to suggest the other pieces should be dismissed lightly. I seem to have written it many times before in articles and reviews, but the more I hear of Enescu’s piano writing, the more it impresses me. Cortot remarked with astonishment not only at Enescu’s compositional grasp but his facility in playing too: "Why is it that you, a violinist, should have a better technique at the piano than I do?" These, then, are far from straightforward pieces and even those springing from Enescu’s relative youth require an interpreter of vision, with sensitivity to line and gradation combined with passion all brought together under a brilliantly fearless technique. Luiza Borac matches these criteria to a remarkable degree. This is music one can senses means much to her, as it would be being Romanian, but the affection comes through in the total unity of her playing with idiom of Enescu’s writing. The early works here give us insights to the formative influences upon Enescu the entire musician, rather than solely as composer, pianist or violinist. The Scherzo contains Brahmsian touches, appropriate as the Hamburg master was one of Enescu’s early musical figureheads (Wagner and J.S. Bach were others). Enescu played violin in a Viennese orchestra under Brahms’s direction, and we have Enescu’s word for it that Brahms once heard him practise the violin concerto and offered him advice on the playing of suitable cadenzas. The Prelude and Fugue shows Enescu at work very much in the vein of J.S. Bach, though his approach is tempered by an already advanced assimilation of French compositional style. As a violinist Enescu performed practically the whole Bach canon from memory, and conducted the B-minor mass and concerti too – and at least we have some recordings of his labours for posterity. Whilst many talk, in my view often inaccurately, about the influence of Romanian folk music (or, worse, gypsy music which is entirely another thing) upon Enescu’s compositions, Bach as the bedrock to his musical being remains under-acknowledged. This Prelude and Fugue, along with the first and second piano suites (1897 and 1901/3 respectively), demonstrate the influence. Though his compositional voice became more individual as the years advanced what he never lost from his understanding of Bach was the importance of form within music. The homage to Fauré - one of several commissioned from the great man’s young composition pupils - takes the letters of Fauré’s name and using them as notes weaves a web of some intricacy, so that the many repetitions are hardly noticeable, but such subtlety Enescu already held firmly in his grasp. By contrast the Nocturne shows another facet of Enescu’s piano style – his love of dominating left hand chords. This is a feature that permeates many early works, though even the third violin sonata demonstrates an unwillingness to totally relinquish the effect these produce. Far from being a Nocturne of Gallic geniality, Enescu presents a vision of idiosyncrasy and great inventiveness – and not a little disturbed in its vision too. All of which comes as grist to the mill of Borac’s musical and imaginative realisation. The first piano sonata is the lesser known of the two that exist. Structurally it seems slightly odd, the slow movement coming last after two movements of varying dynamic impetuousness that suggest, but do not reply upon, improvisatory wilfulness. However the lasting impression is one of individuality and some contemplation on the part of the composer, who laid aside his magnum opus, the opera Oedipe, to write the sonata. Borac succeeds in capturing with great effectiveness not only the frenetic activity but also the spirit of what Romanians call dor (a mixture of longing, nostalgia, lovesickness and sadness) that she finds within these pages, and to an extent I do too in the controlled,
reflective ending. All we know of the second – fully formed and realised in Enescu’s head, but alas never made the journey to paper – is that ‘she’ was in B flat major. Perhaps this is the juncture to mention other available releases. Especially where Enescu is concerned I am of the opinion that there are no competitors, merely contributors to overall understanding, given that the world is still young in accepting this music. (How much further behind still lie some other Romanian composers whose works are all but unheard!) Cristian Petrescu on Accord (3 CDs: 4762397) has decent sound, though not comparable to Borac’s, and on the whole takes too many liberties with Enescu’s time and dynamic markings. This said, his was about the only available survey of Enescu’s piano works available until now. Had I to choose just one version the Borac would be my choice. However when it comes to the third sonata things are not quite so straight-forward: enter Dinu Lipatti with his own special view of the work (EMI 5 67566 2). Being Enescu’s God-son, Lipatti’s interpretation verges on being a family affair, and his affection for the music is apparent. As is so often the case with Lipatti’s meagre quantity of captured legacy the result is marred by the recording quality; it comes from Swiss Radio and was recorded on 18 October 1943. He is caught to winning lyrical effect in the middle Andantino, though the outer Vivace con brio and Allegro con spirito show him in sparkling temperament too. Nadia Boulanger’s co-operation is documented with this recording but EMI fails to state the nature or extent of her involvement. Borac enters the home strait of her set unafraid of Lipatti. She too displays much of the same fleetness, intuitive musicality and sureness of touch with her playing that Lipatti, one feels more than completely hears, brings to his. Listening to her recording I was struck by memories of hearing Enescu’s piano played two years ago in Bucharest by students of the music academy. What struck me then was the voicing of Enescu’s instrument – how it effectively had three voices: a deep and rich bass allowing his love of accords to come through, a willowy and pliant middle register, and a top register without hardness but bell-like in its clarity. Given that Borac has played Enescu’s baby grand (a booklet picture confirms this) it can be no coincidence that the piano used here brings forward similar qualities. Lipatti though still has much to offer, and I would not be without either version. Alright, so we are short on playing time for two discs, but given that they retail at a special price that’s no great pity – particularly as the artistic standard, recording quality and supporting notes are of high order. Greater advocacy for Enescu’s genius would be hard to dream of: bravo, Luiza Borac!
George ENESCU (1881-1955) Oedipe, Op. 23 - Tragédie lyrique en 4 actes et 6 tableaux (1936) Libretto in French by Edmond Fleg. Monte Pederson (bass-baritone) – Oedipe Egils Silins (bass) – Tirésias Davide Damiani (baritone) – Créon Michael Roider (tenor) - Le berger (The Shepherd) Goran Simić (bass) - Le grand prêtre (The High Priest) Peter Köves (bass) – Phorbas Walter Fink (bass) - Le veilleur (The Watchman) Yu Chen (baritone) – Thésée Josef Hopferwieser (tenor) – Laïos Marjana Lipovšek (mezzo) - Jocaste/La Sphinge (The Sphinx) Ruxandra Donose (soprano) – Antigone Mihaela Ungureanu (mezzo) - Mérope Chorus of the Vienna State Opera, Vienna Boys Choir, Orchestra of the Vienna State Opera, Stage Orchestra of the Austrian Federal Theatres/Michael Gielen rec. live, Vienna State Opera, 29 May 1997. DDD NAXOS 8.660163-64 [63:53 + 64:33] http://www.musicwebinternational.com/classrev/2006/May06/Enescu_Oedipe_8660163.htm#ixzz6MgzYfJvg I have recently been following parallel paths within Enescu’s music to those travelled by my colleague Göran Forsling: firstly in reviewing the piano sonatas played by Luiza Borac Avie), and now with Oedipe. It was interesting for me as someone who has lived with Oedipe for a few years to read Göran’s perceptive comments when coming to the work for the first time. I recommend them to you (see review). This review is, in essence, an extension of my previous comments on recordings of this great opera (see article on Enescu), but perhaps a little should be mentioned about my terms of reference when it comes to Oedipe. Although I previously knew the Electrecord recording, I first properly heard the work on 18 August 2002 in a concert performance at the Edinburgh International Festival. That night will forever remain with me, and it is impossible to describe to those who were not there the
impression made by the music, the conductor (Cristian Mandeal) or several of the singers. In April/May 2004 I travelled to Berlin for two staged performances (the same production as used in Vienna from which the Naxos recording derives), Mandeal again conducted. Mandeal also conducted for a run of seven performances in Cagliari during January 2005, and I attended the final performance of that run. To these must be added information gleaned from Enescu’s own conversations with Bernard Gavoty (pub. Flammarion, Paris 1955), Noel Malcolm’s book on Enescu (Toccata Press) and John Gritten’s book on Constantin Silvestri (Kitzinger). The Naxos release listed above faces only one viable commercial rival, featuring forces from MonteCarlo under the baton of Lawrence Foster (EMI CDS 7 54011 2, or CDCB 54011 in the USA). There is a Romanian language version on Electrecord and a number of off-air broadcasts that the motivated reader may discover through unofficial channels. I will discuss these at the end of my review of the Naxos set. Naxos and EMI Three years ago Klaus Heymann (CEO, Naxos) revealed to me via email his desire to release a recording of Enescu’s Oedipe, describing it very much as a “pet project” of his, and he is a man of his word. Given the prohibitive cost of a new studio recording, it is perhaps understandable therefore that Naxos have opted to issue one from the archives of the Vienna State Opera, where the work has received several outings in recent years. This recording is a monument also to the art to Monte Pederson, the American bass-baritone who notably assumed the title role a few times - in Vienna and Bucharest - prior to his death from cancer in 2001. He is an artist too little represented on disc, considering his innate musicality and dramatic sensibilities. This performance in general terms is very different from that conducted by Foster on EMI. Foster’s view is to an extent a labour of love and it manages to communicate much of the beauty within Enescu’s score, but following the experience of live performances I find it short on dramatic punch. However Gielen’s view concentrates on the extremities within the writing both in sonic terms and also in tempo. The latter contributes in part to the shorter playing time of his version when compared to Foster’s. Although the Viennese forces play and sing with commitment one can sense that perhaps the music was not yet totally coming naturally to them, and, as ever with live recordings, stage movements obscure details of orchestration that one sorely misses when one is aware of their presence from the score or Foster’s reading. I should add that I consulted my facsimile of Enescu’s original manuscript whilst listening and found key textures that Enescu was at pains to emphasise wanting. Comparing the renditions of the title role given by Pederson and van Dam one finds that if anything Pederson undersings the part. However, given the considerable demands of the role to produce singing at every conceivable dynamic marking, with quarter and three-quarter tones required at moments of absolute stress alongside vocalisations it is not surprising that Pederson is not alone in often husbanding his resources when it comes to a complete performance. Certainly Esa Ruuttunen did this during the first performance I saw in Berlin – he gave more freely to the drama in the second. Even in the studio, where retakes were possible, van Dam on occasion holds back more than I would like, but this perhaps was caused by Foster’s direction to an extent. Incidentally, Van Dam replaced the previously engaged Samuel Ramey, and only agreed to the recording after a two year period of study with the score. The Naxos recording is notable for some other roles too. Marjana Lipovšek reprises the role of the Sphinx, which she took for Foster, and here doubles it with that of Jocaste. That her voice has aged since Foster’s recording was made is audible, but so too is the appreciable depth of the performance she turns in. The freedom of the live performance allows enough room for her to invest the Sphinx’s
‘icy white’ shrieks with truly spine-chilling tone. Romanians Mihaela Ungureanu and Ruxandra Donose acquit themselves with honour, Donose especially handling her telling contribution to the final act magnificently. Many of the other roles are allotted to basses, and Walter Fink’s Watchman takes the laurels amongst the several present. Throughout the French diction of the cast is adequate, although at times indistinct when it compared with the clarity of EMI’s studio recording. So as far as commercial releases are concerned it’s a choice that might well be made on any number of grounds: according to budget; supporting material, completeness or sound quality. Naxos comes in at half EMI’s price but their synopsis cannot compete with EMI’s full notes and libretto – which will be needed if you come to the work for the first time. EMI includes the whole score whereas the Naxos version suffers several cuts and EMI wins hands down on sound quality. If it’s immediacy in drama you’re after rather than a kind of pseudo-Debussian orchestral gloss, Naxos is the choice. When all’s said and done Naxos provides a decent starting point. Given that both sets reward musically in their own ways, I would urge the interested to investigate the other over time also. Electrecord and off-air broadcasts Electrecord’s version is in Romanian, as opposed to the original French, and in translation certain textual changes were made - apparently at the request of Communist Party officials - that not only alter the nature of what is sung but the direction of the action itself. That said, anyone unaware of this is unlikely to be overly troubled. The Bucharest Opera forces are conducted by Brediceanu, with David Ohanesian in the title role. Why Brediceanu conducted the recording at all is still something of a mystery, given that Constantin Silvestri was originally to do so, and conducted painstaking rehearsals for some time prior to his replacement. Dedicated though Brediceanu is, there can be little doubt that the recording owes a fair measure of its glory to Silvestri’s input. I regret the fact that politics seemingly has cruelly robbed us of what would have almost certainly been a magnificent reading. The one we have though displays the quality of the Bucharest National Opera at that time (1964), with each role taken by a star soloist: Dan Iordachescu’s Creon stands out as worthy of particular note, as does Elena Cernai’s Jocaste. But vocally it is David Ohanesian in the title role that carries all before him here: a great bass-baritone caught in his absolute prime. Although I have not heard it, I have heard reports of a recording existing of a seemingly excellent live performance from the Lucerne Festival given in August 1981. Romanian forces were once again conducted by Brediceanu, with Ohanesian still in the title role, this time singing in French. The major drawback of the performance, I gather, was the cutting of Act 2, Scene 1. Nonetheless I hope to make the acquaintance of this recording some day, and would welcome information from any readers who know any more about it. Orchestre Radio-Symphonique de France/Charles Bruck – Radio France 1955 This may be in some respects the best recording of Oedipe to date. Conducted by Romanian born Charles Bruck – a much under-rated conductor - the reading is as secure technically as that achieved by Foster, but Bruck phrases with greater urgency at every turn. Bruck’s Oedipe is Xavier Depraz who is resplendent in the role. I prefer him to Foster’s van Dam, although Depraz does not have van Dam's tonal allure – and there are times in the opera I wish van Dam had less beauty and more punch in his voice. Other performances for Bruck worth mention include the blood-curdling Sphinx of Rita Gorr who also sang Jocaste at the Monnaie in Brussels. Bruck's performance features some singers from the 1936 premiere of the work, one in the role he created: Henri Medus as the Watchman. Others are in different roles: Louis Noguera was a Theban at the premiere but sings Phorbas for Bruck, Pierre Froumenty was Créon at the premiere but under Bruck sings the High Priest. Bruck's performance carries the advantage of an all-native French cast featuring principals from the Paris Opera at that time: Jean Giraudeau (the Shepherd), André
Vessières (Tiresias), to name but two. Alas, Bruck’s recording allows serious cuts and the playing of the Orchestre Radio-Symphonique is less than ideal, though it is committed. The sound is also a factor, but given the fact it emanates from radio sources, for its age it is remarkably full and clear. BBC Scottish SO / Mandeal – Edinburgh 2002 – broadcast by the BBC I mentioned above the indelible effect that this performance had on me, and being my first true encounter with the work it is in some ways the one that all others measure up against for me. Aside from the magnificent Mandeal, the chief protagonists to note are John Relyea’s assumption of the title role. There could hardly have been a vocal facet he left unexploited in bringing the music to life, and in his effort seemed to push himself to the very edge of his abilities, but was it ever worth it. Marius Brenciu’s telling rendition of the shepherd’s role was given with piquancy of tone in impeccable French, whilst Anna Burford and Janice Watson were memorable as Mérope and Antigone respectively. Teatro Lirico di Cagliari / Mandeal – Cagliari 2005 – broadcast by RAI Tre Listening to off-air broadcasts of the Edinburgh and Cagliari performances, what is most striking is precisely the quality I find most lacking in Foster’s studio recording: immediacy of impact. Mandeal draws this from orchestra, chorus and soloists and views all four acts as an arch of inevitability for Oedipe from birth to death. Within this he does not neglect detail, and is unafraid to move from the slightest subtlety of line to the unleashing of the tremendous power inherent in the score. Stefan Ignat shows that he is a bass-baritone growing into the title role, though lapses in linguistic fluency let him down at times. Another Romanian, Alexandru Agache, proves a rich and menacing Créon. When writing last year I commented that: “There could be no greater mark of respect for Enescu than to capture Mandeal’s view of this score”. Apparently a video DVD was made from the production in Cagliari – perhaps a sufficiently far-sighted company will seek to licence this from the opera house for public release. Given that Naxos have released the Vienna archive audio recording, this DVD seems the only way that Mandeal’s vision of this great work might at last become officially publicly available. Until then, do not resist any further live performances he may conduct.
George ENESCU (1881-1955) Oedipe, Op. 23 - Tragédie lyrique en 4 actes et 6 tableaux (1936) Libretto in French by Edmond Fleg. Stefan Ignat (bass-baritone) – Oedipe Ricardo Herrera (bass) – Tirésias Bradley Robinson (baritone) – Créon Harold Gray Meers (tenor) - Le berger (The Shepherd) Michael York (bass) - Le grand prêtre (The High Priest) Michael York (bass) – Phorbas Ricardo Herrera (bass) - Le veilleur (The Watchman) Ben Jones (baritone) – Thésée Darren T. Anderson (tenor) – Laïos Ashmani Jha (mezzo) – Jocaste Stephanie Chigas (mezzo) – La Sphinge (The Sphinx) Jan Patrice Helms (soprano) – Antigone Jennifer Proulx (mezzo) - Mérope University of Illinois Chamber Singers Sinfonia da Camera, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign/Ian Hobson rec. live, 15 October 2005, Foellinger Great Hall, Krannert Center for the Performing Arts, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, USA. DDD. ALBANY TROY861/62 [74.31 + 71.37] http://www.musicwebinternational.com/classrev/2006/Nov06/Enescu_Oedipe_TROY86162.htm#ixzz6Mh00eGHW
This set presents the North American premiere of Enescu’s great opera and is taken from a concert performance given at the University of Illinois in October 2005. Ian Hobson, the conductor, has some experience in Enescu’s work both on the podium and also at the keyboard. Hobson won First Prize at the 1981 Leeds International Piano Competition, and frequently plays Enescu’s own arrangement of the First Romanian Fantasy. Recently (2006) at Wigmore Hall, London he audaciously followed Liszt’s B minor sonata with it. The other experienced Enescu interpreter present in the pit with Hobson is violinist Sherban Lupu, here taking the role of
concertmaster. A Professor at the University of Illinois, Lupu founded the Enescu String Ensemble there. Together violinist and Ensemble recorded vital versions of some lesser-known Enescu works for Romanian Radio in 2005; so there is clearly some history of Enescu performance at the University of Illinois. Lesser-known chamber works are one thing, the challenge of Oedipe is entirely another. Those that are interested in my views on the other commercial and off-air recordings of live performances should visit the links given at the foot of the review. I will keep my comments from now on focused on the present recording. The orchestra and chorus are faithfully recorded. The Act I prelude announces a reading that is not totally possessed from the first with a feeling of the inevitable. If the orchestra and chorus had been of greater numbers then no doubt the weight of tone that Enescu’s writing calls for at mp dynamic could have been realised with greater certainty. Hobson, understandably given that this was the first performance by these forces, is cautious in pacing individual phrases, but when things take fire and gather momentum his reading is remarkably involving. To the best of my knowledge only one of the singers, Stefan Ignat, had previously sung the role assigned him in the opera. All the other singers are new to me. There are times when one feels Ignat’s involvement tellingly in proceedings – Act II, scene 1 during the brutal encounter with Laios, or scene 3 in the encounter with the Sphinx; later in Act III he is baleful and haughty by turns – but his downfall is the frequently indistinct pronunciation of text, a point I noted on hearing him in the role in Cagliari, Italy in January 2005. That said, there is no doubting his vocal commitment and he particularly seems to relish the moments of personal anguish within the role. The choice of an ideal singer for the title role is a hard one, given that it’s one of the toughest, most unrelenting of all bass-baritone parts ever written. Xavier Depraz (recorded under Charles Bruck), David Ohanesian (recorded under Brediceanu), Josè van Dam (recorded under Foster), or Esa Ruutennen and John Relyea (in performance under Mandeal) all gave their own individual vocal weights to it. To my ears Oedipe the role is more convincing with a singer who is stronger as a bass than a baritone – which does not map onto Ignat’s voice entirely – but whatever the strength of the singer he must be able to cope well with high baritonal reaches too. This Ignat does well, and better than Pederson who was recorded under Gielen on Naxos. There are some fine singers amongst the other cast members. Ricardo Herrera (Tirésias), Bradley Robinson (Créon), and Harold Gray Meers (Le berger) all cope well with the demands made upon them. Herrera doubles effectively as the Watchman in the Sphinx scene, and Michael York puts in a useful double appearance as The High Priest and Phorbas. In recent years it has been common – in performances featuring Marjana Lipovsek, at least – for the roles of Jocaste and The Sphinx to be taken by the same singer. I feel, however, that there is something to be had in having two quite different timbres in the music. The Sphinx is a role that any dramatic mezzo could revel in and Stephanie Chigas does just that. Imposing, cajoling, demanding – she does nearly all one could ask for. For all the scenes of outward drama and emotion in the first three Acts, I find Act IV unsurpassed in all opera to reveal more of the major protagonist through a journey to inner peace and selfreconciliation. A pity that in this performance Ignat does not quite capture the valedictory glow at the close which he found in Cagliari. Here he sounds tired, which is potentially positive given we see Oedipe as an old and weary man. However, his tiredness is more vocal than emotional, and as a consequence the resultant performance is not quite what one would ideally want. The second Oedipe to appear on disc this year, and the second that is not entirely satisfactory as a first choice. However, as I said at the beginning, the scale of the undertaking was vast. I nonetheless salute
the resolve of all concerned in bringing off an earnest attempt in performance. It has two advantages over the competitively priced release on Naxos: it gives the music uncut and provides a full libretto and translation. It is a shame that the track numbers are not given within the libretto to make following it easier, should one not know the work. Informative notes by Sever Tipei complete the booklet. First recommendations: for overall musicality and depth of insight I would suggest Brediceanu followed by Foster in the studio recording stakes, assuming one does not mind Brediceanu’s reading being in Romanian. If you are after a studio recording in French and without cuts, then Foster on EMI is still the one to go for. I would strongly urge however Charles Bruck’s 1955 Radio France off-air relay be tracked down as an essential piece of additional listening. In the theatre, do not neglect Mandeal. Inexplicably, recording companies have to date where Oedipe is concerned – much to their shame.
George ENESCU (1881-1955) Violin Sonata No. 3 "dans le caractère populaire Roumain", Op. 25 (1926) [28.15] Franz SCHUBERT (1797-1828) Sonata for violin and piano in A minor, D.385, op.posth. 137, No. 2 (1816) [23.18] Arnold SCHOENBERG (1874-1951) Phantasy for violin with piano accompaniment, op.47 (1949) [10.00] Hans Werner HENZE (b. 1926) Fünf nachtstücke für Violine und Klavier (1990) [9.20] Barbara Doll (violin) Cristina Marton (piano) rec. May 2005, Martinů Hall, Lichtenstein Palace, Prague. DDD. ARCODIVA UP 0083-2 131 [71.16] http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2005/Dec05/Doll_UP0083-2.htm#ixzz6MgwI9Jyx Thankfully George Enescu’s music is no longer as rarely performed or recorded as Barbara Doll’s accompanying programme note might make you believe. There are at least seven other recordings of the third violin sonata on my CD shelf, each with its own distinct claim to attention. From Enescu’s own with Lipatti – of historic interest – via Menuhin and Haendel (Enescu’s pupils) to current
Romanian violinists Martin, Sirbu and Lupu or the alternative view presented by Kavakos, one might think that most interpretive angles were covered. This current version by Doll and Marton proves how wrong that assumption can be. Little could have prepared me for it. The one outward clue is in the overall time taken. At 28’15" it is the most expansive view around, with the others coming in at anything between 22 and 25 minutes. The opening of the first movement (moderato malinconico) appears rather coolly conceived – in fact I’d go so far as to say detached from the music, its impetus and essence. The emphases of dynamic and bowing techniques that violinists usually fling themselves into with abandon are somewhat underplayed compared to the norm. But then there are times too when the music springs to life, and often this happens without the slightest warning. Hear the second movement again at around 5’18" where across the course of not more than two bow strokes all hell is seemingly unleashed in the two instruments. At times like that I wrote in my listening notes, "should I like this?" If I were honest to the spirit of Enescu, my reaction would be "probably not", but of itself this unique view has momentary things to commend it. It is well known that when Menuhin studied with Enescu in Romania he fell - by his own admission - perhaps too strongly under the influence of the gypsy fiddlers around Sinaia, which is why Enescu packed him off for the corrective influence of Adolf Busch. If anything is misplaced in this performance it is that it remains too artful rather than submitting to the true caractère populaire Roumain: the bowing and tone is at all times a little too studied and contemplated where it should be instinctual. I would have thought being a pianist of Romanian birth Cristina Marton might have brought stronger feelings to show against Barbara Doll’s approach. The third movement too left me with the feeling of a performance more aware of itself – little things: edgy tone produced too cleanly and the music at times taken too much in bite size chunks rather than a unified whole. When it comes alive (c. 6’21") the results can be gripping – and not for the first time though I wondered as to the amount of engineering manipulation taking place behind the scenes to give the piano bass presence that seemed a touch lacking moments before. However, it’s not only the Enescu that is individual here: the rest of the programme presents three other approaches to the violin and piano duet that amply reflect their composers’ concerns. The Schubert is altogether more natural and the performance shows qualities that were lacking at times in the Enescu. It is lithe and beautifully shaped and affords both players opportunities to show what they can produce when not under the pressure of having to realise effects for their own sake. The work has a flow all of its own and in this element of the performance Cristina Marton emerges as a rather sensitive accompanist. The Schoenberg is an altogether edgier affair, with the violin definitely taking the lead and exhibiting a palpable hardness of tone. But it’s not that the piano part - composed shortly after the violin one - is shy in coming forward either. Throughout their performance Doll and Marton allow Schoenberg’s Viennese side to show itself within his twelve-tone frame, with glimpses of the waltz and Schubert - perhaps less distinctly - but this is the only discernable link between the composers included here. Henze is in most senses worlds away from Enescu, but in one crucial sense their two works here share a kindred interest in the evocation of the night, albeit I sense Enescu’s is more fleeting. Henze’s self- professed aim is to "satisfy the human longing for peace, calm and harmony, or at least to understand it". This work, whilst not especially outwardly calming, does arrive at a moment that might be described as ‘resolution’. Here I don’t mean to imply the harmonic sense though this does have a bearing upon the work’s searching character. "Moods, atmospheres, conditions", Henze too quotes among his concerns and throughout the short span of the five movements he brings to bear his own journey through personal and political upheavals.
Unsurprisingly the work and performance end this disc with more of a question mark than any more definite punctuation. And the question is what’s the question? That’s for the listener to decide depending on their reaction, not only to Henze’s work, but the disc as a whole: a varied programme given through provocative playing. Recommended most strongly if provocation is what you’re after, though those seeking authentic Enescu as their first encounter should look at alternative versions.
In The Shade of Forests George ENESCU (1881-1955) Impressions d’enfance Op.28 (1940) [22.01] Maurice RAVEL (1875-1937) Tzigane – Rapsodie de concert for violin and luthéal (original version) (1924) [10.41] Sonata Op. posthumous (1897) [12.37] Claude DEBUSSY (1862-1918) Violin Sonata (1916-17) [13.14] Nocturne et Scherzo (1882) – re-adaptation by Phillipe Graffin [4.11] Il pleure dans mon Coeur – transcribed Arthur Hartmann in 1908 and 1943 [3.04] La fille aux cheveux de lin - transcribed Arthur Hartmann in 1910 [2.27] Minstrels - transcribed by Claude Debussy in 1914 [2.22] Beau Soir - transcribed Arthur Hartmann in 1941 [2.14] Philippe Graffin (violin) Claire Désert (piano and luthéal) Recorded at Doopsegezinde Kerk, Deventer and Musical Instrument Museum (Tzigane) September 2004 AVIE AV2059 [73.11] http://www.musicwebinternational.com/classrev/2005/June05/Enescu_AV2059.htm#ixzz6MgwyDALZ Given that two of my colleagues were fortunate enough to receive this release around a month before I did, there seems little that I could add to their perceptive reviews. Indeed, I could make short work of this and simply echo their recommendation of it, which I do.
Readers of Part 1 of my anniversary tribute to Enescu last month will be only too aware of my views on the competition faced by this recording of Impressions d’enfance, which perhaps explains why I jumped straight to the Ravel Tzigane. Another reason was my curiosity about the luthéal. The history of music is littered with instruments whose active lives have long since ceased and now find themselves consigned to museums – how wonderful therefore that this one emerges to make such a strong impression and fully justifying the reasoning for its use. True, a large part of the credit must be shared by Graffin and Désert, whose partnership and single vision of the work are immediately apparent. But the instrument itself makes just as instant a claim on the ear. Had I not read the excellent note on it, I would have been convinced that at least four keyboard instruments, though maybe not all pianos, of various ages and states of repair were used. Any other recording of the Tzigane will seem somewhat approximate next to this – it pulls you in to the gypsy-flavoured world so completely, and hauntingly afterwards lives on in the imagination. With Ravel’s posthumous sonata, and indeed the rest of the disc, we continue most definitely in the company of a true violin and piano partnership. Each reading is persuasive by turns of its merits, large or small. The Debussy tracks, his complete works for violin and piano, succeed in giving an amazingly broad picture within the space of a mere six works. There is the sense here that not a single one could be left out without missing an essential aspect of the composer. The placing of the sonata after four shorter pieces helps to ensure that these are not overshadowed by the sun-dappled impression it leaves. As with other Debussy tracks, ending with Hartmann’s transcription of Beau Soir is a gentle nod from one violinist to another, and one that is not out of place. So, what of the Enescu? Those that have invested in the Sherban Lupu (my personal favourite), Leonidas Kavakos, Menuhin or Mihaela Martin can still be happy with their choices. But such is Enescu’s strength that yet again in Graffin’s reading of the score I found new things to absorb me. He gainfully gets inside the idiomatic maze that Enescu lays before him, takes technical hurdles in his stride, and to a large degree succeeds in making these delightful reflections of an imaginary childhood deep in Romania spring to life. Désert gives her all it seems to the piano part and projects it assuredly, full of half colours and sonorities. If my final preference is still for Sherban Lupu and Valentin Gheorghiu on Electrecord, then it is by a slim margin. This version nonetheless does valiant service to Enescu’s cause and provides rich rewards indeed, as it does in respect of Ravel and Debussy. The Avie success story continues apace, and long may it continue.
Johann Sebastian BACH (1685-1750) Mass in B minor, BWV 232 [132.03]; St. Matthew Passion BWV 244 – Have mercy, Lord, on me a [7.38]; Cantata No. 11(Praise Our God) BWV 11 – Ah, Tarry Yet b [8.17] Suzanne Danco (soprano); Kathleen Ferrier (contralto); Peter Pears (tenor); Bruce Boyce (baritone); Norman Walker (bass); George Malcolm (harpsichord); Charles Spinks (organ); Douglas Moore (horn) BBC Chorus; Boyd Neel Orchestra/George Enescu. a Kathleen Ferrier; New Symphony Orchestra/Sir Malcolm Sargent. b Kathleen Ferrier; The Jacques Orchestra/Dr Reginald Jacques. rec. Concert Hall, Broadcasting House, London, 17 July 1951; a Kingsway Hall, London, 6 February 1946; b Kingsway Hall, London, 1 November 1949. ADD mono ARIADNE 5000 [68.21 + 79.38]
http://www.musicwebinternational.com/classrev/2006/Mar06/Bach_Bminor_ariadne5000.htm#ixzz6MsAp d3oO Alternative release of Enescu’s recording of the Mass in B minor: BBC Legends BBCL 4008-7 (2 CDs) If ever there was a recording of Bach’s great mass that moved more through vision and absolute commitment than sound quality, this is it. The performance has Enescu’s benign guiding presence within every bar and the sense of a constant heartbeat guiding the tempi is uniquely apparent. This heartbeat regularity was essential to Enescu’s vision of Bach. Although some may find it a bit four-square at times, it does give constancy to a work that in no small part delivers the feeling of something eternal. There are those I know that think this recording the nearest they will ever come to something spiritual in music. Of the BBC release listed above, I said last year (in my overview of Enescu’s recordings as a performer): "The recorded sound is muddy and, particularly in choral passages, textures can cloy and distort somewhat. All of this is strange given this comes [from] a BBC studio source at a time when recording technology was reasonably advanced."
This new release on the Ariadne label, a subsidiary of SOMM Recordings, is quite different. The re-mastering by Roger Beardsley based on a set of original BBC transcription tapes has significantly opened out the sound range, even though one must admit that the recording itself still shows signs of age. On Ariadne the orchestra appears slightly more forward than on BBC Legends. The "Christe eleison" also shows a marked improvement by distinguishing the string tone from that of the organ obbligato, with the organ taking on a definite character, rather than being an indistinct presence. It is in the work’s many choral passages that one appreciates most the improvements on offer. I liken the BBC Legends release to having cotton wool in ones ears as one hears it, whilst Ariadne presents the same performance with the cotton wool removed. Sopranos are brighter, mezzos are richer-toned, tenors are more distinct, and basses carry slightly more resonance. Enescu built his sonorities from the bass line upwards, so improvements in the lower vocal and orchestral areas have a particularly appreciable impact on the performance as a whole. The soloists all contribute keenly to the performance. Ferrier is moving with almost every word and Suzanne Danco is almost her equal in this respect. The Ariadne release gives Danco’s voice more varied colours and presence and this helps greatly to bring her contributions alive. But many will purchase this recording for Ferrier’s contributions, and this is a perfectly acceptable reason. Of the male soloists, Peter Pears shows the qualities of word-pointing that made him so great in Schubert and Britten. There might be some that find his individual vocal production somewhat out of place with the spirit of Bach’s music – personally I am not one of them. It is good that the Ariadne documentation credits Norman Walker as the bass soloist (BBC Legends fail to do so). His contribution contrasts well with that of Bruce Boyce’s baritone. Together they come across creditably. Of the two additional Bach arias - sung by Ferrier - Have mercy, Lord, on me is a valuable rarity in her discography, although Ah, Tarry Yet significantly formed part of Decca’s first issue of long-playing records in the UK. Both recordings carry the unique Ferrier stamp of saying so much with simplicity and absolute sureness of tone. The sound quality of both recordings is acceptable. Bonuses indeed after the feast that is the B minor mass. Ariadne’s accompanying notes are brief and factually accurate, although Bach did not live from 1865-1957 as the rear case liner claims! BBC Legends offers a recollection of Enescu penned by Yehudi Menuhin that takes effusion to its furthestmost point. There is a price difference too between the two releases – in Ariadne’s favour. The Ariadne release is obviously the preferable choice.
Tzigane: a treasury of Gypsy-inspired music Zoltán KODÁLY (1882-1967) arr. Anthony Goldstone: Dances of Galánta [16.07] * Joseph HAYDN (1732-1809) arr. Anthony Goldstone: ‘Gypsy rondo’ – Rondo all’ongarese (presto) from Trio in G major, Hob. XV:25, with a cadenza by Franz Schubert [3.30] * Franz LISZT (1811-1886): Hungarian Rhapsody no. 6 [7.15] Ferruccio BUSONI (1866-1924): Chamber Fantasy on Bizet’s Carmen [7.51] Johannes BRAHMS (1833-1897) arr. Anthony Goldstone: Hungarian Dance no. 11 [3.07] * Johannes BRAHMS (1833-1897): Hungarian Dance no. 2 [3.02] Ernst von DOHNÁNYI (1877-1960): Rhapsody in F sharp minor, op.11, no. 2 [6.54] Manuel de FALLA (1876-1946): Fantasia bætica (Andalusian Fantasy) [12.12] Augusta HOLMÈS (1847-1903): Rêverie tzigane [4.09] * George ENESCU (1881-1955): Romanian Rhapsody no. 1, in the composer’s concert transcription [12.23] Anthony Goldstone (piano) Recorded in St John the Baptist church, Alkborough, 2005. DDD. * = first recording DIVINE ART 25033 [77.30] http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2005/Dec05/Tzigane_25033.htm#ixzz6MgxZE0Vf Looking at this disc one might be forgiven for thinking that most gypsy-inspired art music emerged from Hungary and the surrounding territories. Certainly a lot has, but it is good having some Spanish material and French too in Augusta Holmès. Featuring eleven composers’ (counting Bizet and Schubert) individual takes on gypsy idioms is either likely to appeal a great deal or not much at all. In his lucid eight page accompanying note Goldstone makes the case for acknowledging more openly the Gypsy influence on western art music and draws out the threads between the works. His playing makes the case with equal eloquence and his instrument is recorded within a tightly focused frame. A strength of this disc is that it places cheek by jowl the familiar in unfamiliar form, a few works commonly known in their present form and some lesser known repertoire. Goldstone’s own arrangements show his affection for the works whilst affording him the opportunity to showcase his talent. Those of the other arrangers (Busoni and Enescu) set him similarly daunting fences to hurdle, but more on them later.
Goldstone opens with his own ‘translation’ of Kodály’s Dances of Galánta, a veritable rush of high- powered pianism that would challenge many a keyboard artist. The result though is a thoroughly enjoyable and faithful account of Kodály’s orchestral score made naturally at home on the piano. The Haydn finds Goldstone momentarily more relaxed and reflecting with ease upon the vague Hungarian influence that permeates the work – the purpose of which is a means to an end in colouring the piece. To my ears the Liszt and Brahms works were perhaps a little too similar in vein, undoubted showpieces though they are and delivered with all the sweep and verve that one could require for such late romantic repertoire. The sheer audaciousness of Busoni’s Chamber Fantasy on Bizet’s "Carmen" provided exactly the kind of change in terms of mood and material that was needed. Like much else here, it’s unashamedly virtuosic and played with sensitivity, passion and technique equal to the task. Some may pall at the thought of Busoni or Liszt’s opera paraphrases – but they form a rich stream of piano literature that could bear more frequent airings. Dohnányi returns us firmly to Hungarian soil in one of his most inventive rhapsodies – and here Goldstone captures a lilt and sway to the rhythms that I had not before picked up on, and in so doing effectively communicates the gypsy influence within the work. The fluid quality Dohnányi’s flowing writing calls for might not be as outwardly ambitious with regard to technique as the Busoni, but it is no less impressive for that. The works by de Falla and Holmès may not count amongst the disc’s first recordings, but they do effectively serve to diversify the musical diet at this point in the disc. The former provides authentic Spanish inflections to neatly counter those arranged by Busoni. If Arthur Rubinstein, its commissioner, found the work "too long and complicated" there are elements that interest; and also extend knowledge of de Falla’s piano writing beyond the oft-heard Fire Dance and Nights in the Gardens of Spain. Holmès would seem a composer, rather like Amy Beach, whose music has inner strength and worth but has never found an audience willing to regularly receive it seriously. Her idiom steers a course between Franck and devotion to Wagner yet captures a certain personal edge (indeed, one might understand why Saint-Saëns called her "untamed"!) For the finale we come to Enescu’s Romanian Rhapsody no. 1 – in his own concert arrangement. Goldstone describes it "well night unplayable". Over the past few years I have listened to all of Enescu’s output in great depth – one might expect a violinist to write strong string parts, but more and more for me it is his piano writing that impresses. Whilst Goldstone captures the quirky playfulness of the work, unlike many orchestral conductors he also pays careful attention to metronome markings with their fluctuating tempi that accompany unequal bar lengths. It ends in a thunderously resounding battery of chords. A pianistic tour de force without a doubt, and most warmly recommended.