Collated book, CD and DVD reviews 2007

Collected Book, CD and DVD recording reviews for Musicweb International 2007

Evan Dickerson

Alphabetical by composer Vincenzo BELLINI (1801-1835) Norma (1831) Pollione, the Roman Proconsul: Hugh Smith (tenor) Oroveso, the High Priest of the Druids: Giorgio Giuseppini (bass) Norma, High Priestess: Hasmik Papian (soprano) Adalgisa, young novice priestess: Irini Tsirakidis (mezzo) Flavio, friend of Pollione: Carlo Bosi (tenor) Chorus of De Nederlandse Opera Netherland Chamber Orchestra/Julian Reynolds Guy Joosten (stage director) Jorge Jara (costume designer) Johannes Leiacker (set designer) Davy Cunningham (lighting designer) Luc Joosten (dramaturgy) rec. live, Het Musiektheater, Amsterdam, 2005.

DVD Region 0.

Sung in Italian with subtitles in English, French, German, Spanish, Italian and Dutch.

OPUS ARTE OA 0959 D

[2 DVDs: 188.00]

I would not always recommend watching the background feature before the full opera to everyone, but in respect of the present production of Norma it is some help in orientating you to what is going on. English conductor Julian Reynolds, who is sensitive to Bellini’s demands in performance, opines that an opera house needs a special reason to mount the work, given its demands upon soloists. That Romanian-born soprano Nelly Miricioiu agreed to sing the title role proved reason enough for De Nederlandse Opera, where she has established a loyal following for her portrayals of the core bel canto roles.

There are several key points to be made about this Norma that set it apart from others one might have encountered. First, Reynolds employs a chamber orchestra of the size Bellini asked for at the work’s La Scala Milan premiere. Second, he restores passages of the score that are commonly cut – to the average listener some may be obvious, some less so. These factors also impact upon the singing heard in the production itself. Reynolds encourages a move away from the statuesque style of bel canto delivery employed by the likes of Joan Sutherland, Maria Callas or Montserrat Caballé to something that betrays more of the human emotion behind the words and action.

The staging concept employed by Guy Joosten and his team is likely to be a major departure from what many viewers will have experienced in the past. The opera is treated almost as a work within a work, the staging is built on the concept of mounting an opera: Norma is the prima donna assoluta, Adalgisa cast as the seconda donna, Pollione as the impresario, etc. Some may choose to read further into this and identify Norma with Callas, for example. Though the production might encourage this, it is a temptation I felt happy to resist as it adds nothing to ones understanding of the opera that is hinted at in libretto or music.

We are not really told in the background feature why Nelly Miricioiu withdrew from the production or why Lucia Aliberti, who was “in the wings” ready to cover the role did not end up taking it on either. The fact is though that Armenian soprano Hasmik Papian stepped into the breach, much to her credit. Her delivery of the part might not be as vocally individual as Miricioiu’s or Callas’; it tends to be more of the kind of stand and deliver type that the production tried to move away from, but faced with a third Norma no doubt the production team felt fortunate to have one at all. The role has become a core part of Papian’s repertoire, and she does have many of the attributes a singer needs to carry it off respectably: vocal flexibility, a good sense of bel canto line, evenness of tone throughout the range and the staying power to survive the demanding length of the opera.

Irini Tsirakidis, a Greek soprano with a lowish mezzo extension to her voice, takes on the role of Adagisa in more than competent fashion. She complements Papian well vocally and is an accomplished stage actress, though occasionally you may get the feeling she is restrained somewhat by the production itself. The duet “Mira, O Norma”, rather like “Casta Diva”, affect yet do not bring a tingle to my spine as other performances continue to do after years in their company.

Hugh Smith is a seasoned Pollione; and veers towards the throaty, stand and deliver type of bel canto delivery.

Despite wanting to make more of the part than purely being the Roman Proconsul, Joosten is thwarted somewhat

by Jorge Jara’s traditional armour costumes. Oroveso and Flavio are solidly sung roles.

For all the attempts to inject something new and different into the work, the totality does not quite come together convincingly enough. Maybe it’s a result of the production going through two Normas too many. Equally, maybe it take more than a single production to convince me that a credible alternative to traditional bel canto style performances can hold its own in direct comparison. For me, the ghost of Callas is hard to shift – be it in her EMI studio recordings from 1954 and 1960 or her live performances of the role.

On DVD though, Montserrat Caballé is the High Priestess above them all. Her performance alongside Jon Vickers and Josephine Veasey on the Hardy Classic Video label is breath-taking for its assurance and insight into the heart of the role. Such nights of greatness do not often happen, so one is all the more grateful for its preservation on DVD. Benjamin BRITTEN (1913-1976) The Complete Purcell Realizations CD 1: Songs from Orpheus Britannicus The knotting song (1939, publ. 1994) [2:04] JB Seven songs (1947): Fairest Isle [2:20] FL; If music be the food of love [4:10] JMA; Turn then thine eyes [1:34] JMA; Music for a while [3:14] SW; Pious Celinda [1:25] IB; I:ll sail upon the Dog-star [1:23] RJ; On the brow of Richmond Hill [1:50] ARJ Six songs (1948): Mad Bess [5:23] SW; If music be the food of love [2:08] FL; There:s not a swain of the plain [0:52] IB; Not all my torments [2:41] JB; Man is for the Woman made [1:07] ARJ; Sweeter than roses [3:42] FL O Solitude (1955) [6:28] JMA Five songs (1960): I attempt from Love:s sickness to fly [2:12] SG; I take no pleasure [1:44] IB; Hark the ech:ing air! [2:28] FL; Take not a woman:s anger ill [1:28] JMA; How blest are Shepherds [3:29] JMA Celemene (1946, publ. 1994) [3:52] SG, IB Six duets (1961): Sound the Trumpet [2:24] ARJ, JMA; I spy Celia [4:05] IB, RJ; Lost is my quiet [3:18] SG, SW; What can we poor females do? [1:12] SG, SW; No, Resistance is but vain [5:35] SW, RJ; Shepherd, leave decoying [1:17] SG, SW CD 2: Songs from Harmonia Sacra The Queen's Epicedium (1946) [7:24] IB The Blessed Virgin:s Expostulation (1947) [7:25] FL Saul and the witch at Endor (1947) [11:46] SW, JMA, SK Three divine hymns (1947): Lord, what is man? [6:09] FL; We sing to him [1:54] JB; Evening hymn [4:35] FL Job's Curse (1950) [5:08] SK Two divine hymns and Alleluia (1960) [9:41] ARJ Dulcibella (1971, publ. 1994) [2:09] IB, RJ When Myra sings (1971, publ. 1994) [2:45] IB, RJ

Let the dreadful engines of eternal will (1971) [7:57] SK Felicity Lott, Susan Gritton (sopranos); Sarah Walker (mezzo); James Bowman (counter-tenor); John Mark Ainsley, Ian Bostridge, Anthony Rolfe Johnson (tenors); Richard Jackson, Simon Keenlyside (baritone); Graham Johnson (piano) rec. Rosslyn Hill Unitarian Chapel, London, 5–10 January 1995. DDD. HYPERION DYAD CDD22058 [70:17 + 73:20] Over quite a period of time now I have been listening to these two generously filled discs, searching for reasons not to buy this release. What a pleasure it is to say that I have not thought of a single one. If Britten’s only legacy was that he brought Purcell’s music once again into wider circulation, he would have earned my gratitude. What we have is not just a playing of Purcell’s music. After all, Purcell only wrote the bass part as an indication of the intended harmony with the voice. Britten’s role is to fill out the harmony of the continuo part, which he does with sensitivity and respect for Purcell, but also allowing some of his own personality to shine through. To my ears though, Purcell remains the dominant composer. It should be noted also that Britten viewed these realizations not as dry, academic exercises, but pieces intended for active performance, which he sought to do in partnership with Peter Pears.

Twelve years ago, when this release was recorded, the nine singers included in this set were either at the start or height of their careers. It is typical of Hyperion and Graham Johnson’s approach to recording that specific singers are paired with the songs they are so that the voice type can bring out some inference from the text. Of the individual performances here, there is only one song that sounds less than ideal, and it is The Knotting Song, which opens the first CD. James Bowman’s tone is a touch forced, as his voice seems lacking in the suppleness that it had in former years. His diction though is perfectly acceptable. He sounds put under less pressure by much of the other material he sings, and overall – as with other singers included – it is good to have his involvement given his long association with Britten’s music.

The three sets of realizations dating from 1947, 1948 and 1960 that occupy the majority of CD 1 show the singers in solo repertoire, occasionally giving the possibility to hear the same text under different settings and voices.

Felicity Lott’s reading of “If music be the food of love” from the second set beguiles more directly than John Mark Ainsley’s reading of the first set’s treatment. He does use the text with intelligence though. Many of the songs were made famous by Alfred Deller – though he employed other realizations – such as “Music for a while”. Sarah Walker manages to convey enough ethereal spirit to still the passage of time for a moment as Johnson delights in Britten’s accompaniment.

Walker’s talents are also usefully employed in some of the Six Duets, realized in 1961. Vocally she finds sympathetic partners in Susan Gritton, with her bright, agile soprano, and Richard Jackson’s richly-hued baritone.

Ian Bostridge and Anthony Rolfe Johnson bring the qualities of word pointing that have made them such admirable interpreters of Britten’s own music to Purcell. Indeed, they draw out much of the drama that is inherent in the settings – the point that first caused Britten to promote Purcell’s cause.

CD 2 sees the nature of the repertoire change to more sacred ends with the Divine Hymns, which Rolfe Johnson and Lott sing with sensitivity between them. Of greater musical interest, it seems to me, are the longer solo songs and the trio “Saul and the Witch at Endor”, most of which Simon Keenlyside contributes to with certainty of purpose and a finely shaped sense of line. Little more proof should be needed of the dramatic attraction of Purcell’s music that the reading he gives of “Let the dreadful engines of eternal will”, which closes both disc and set. In it, all manner of passions and powers are stated and suggested in a manner infinitely suggestive of something beyond any one man’s grasp.

The recording throughout is clear and atmospheric.The release is supported by excellent yet concise notes by David Trendell. The full song texts are given also, though in most cases their inclusion is something of a luxury given the excellent diction of all the singers. Most strongly recommended, particularly at bargain price!

Ferruccio BUSONI (1866-1924) Violin Sonata No. 1 in E minor Op. 29 (1890) [26:38] Violin Sonata No. 2 in E minor Op. 36a (1898-1900) [32:56] Four Bagatelles Op. 28 (1888) [6:53] Joseph Lin (violin); Benjamin Loeb (piano) rec. The Country Day School, King City, Ontario, Canada, 1-4 August 2005. DDD. NAXOS 8.557848 [66:27]

In my review of the Naxos disc featuring Busoni’s songs (see below), I highlighted the label’s ongoing commitment to exploring this performer-composer’s output. I also questioned what we should accept as Busoni’s most representative compositions. Ultimately, I found the songs unsatisfying fare. This led me to suggest that Busoni’s virtuoso piano transcriptions or operas might be where his compositional heart lay. The latest Naxos release concentrates on his writing for violin and piano duet. Perhaps this will offer further insights into a singularly complex yet inexplicably ignored compositional voice.

The performances on this disc sound to be of somewhat higher quality than those on the song disc. Joseph Lin is a committed violinist and Benjamin Loeb has his work cut out with the equally demanding piano part.

The First Sonata clearly demonstrates the influence of Austro-German Romantic composition upon Busoni throughout its three movements. Richard Whitehouse, in his accompanying notes, says the work is “untypical” of its composer, but comments that “its musical attractions are yet considerable”. Major aspects of Lin and Loeb’s performance draw the listener into the work. The momentum of movement 1 indicates just the right balance of mood between determination and cheerful agreement. The second movement is more withdrawn in character but a richly lyrical vein of writing is not sidelined by either composer or performers. The closing movement reverts towards the sound world of the first, but proves slightly more driven in overall terms. Throughout the work, the natural recorded balance captures both performers faithfully. The piano might appear at a slight distance momentarily, but together the two artists present a strong reading of this imposing music, fully aware of the influences that bear upon it.

The Second Sonata, which Busoni considered his “real op. 1”, can sound to an extent like an inverted version of the first, having lengthy slow outer movements framing a brief yet unabashedly virtuosic presto middle movement. The first movement finds Lin’s sinuous delivery of the violin line often heard against a dappled piano backdrop, from which both parts grow in intensity without ever becoming over-forced. The tarantella second movement is a brilliant flash in the pan, calling for playing of technical command from both players. This is achieved with flow and care in shaping both parts, so that not only major episodes of grandeur register but the half-light seconds of wit also do. Without a break, it’s straight into the third movement – a near twenty-minute theme and variations. The theme is drawn from Busoni’s beloved Bach: “Wie wohl ist mir”, a chorale found in the Anna Magdalena notebook. The variations explore a great contrast of moods and form, from the ruminative to the more demonstrative forms of march, moto perpetuo and fugue. The closing coda might be somewhat subdued compared to all that has gone before but it achieves a sense of suggestive integration with the opening movements to fully complete the work.

The Naxos disc does not present the first release of Busoni’s violin sonatas on CD. Rob Barnett favourably reviewed a 2004 release on the Finlandia label which included a youthful sonata from the ten year old composer alongside the more mature works. Naxos could have accommodated this early work on their disc too had they wished to, in addition to the Bagatelles they have provided. Slight they might be in length, but not in

terms of the technical skill required. Stylistically they form a diverse set of character pieces which underline once again Busoni’s skill in adapting the material of others to suit his own ends. Across time and place one is taken on a dizzying tour of fleeting impressions that are confidently realized in the playing of Lin and Loeb.

A disc full of enjoyable material executed with style. A true Naxos bargain.

Ferruccio BUSONI (1866-1924) Zwei Lieder (1879-90) [6:43] Album Vocale (1880-4) [14:42] Zwei altdeutsche Lieder (1884) [3:45] Hebräische Lieder (1884) [7:47] Zwei Lieder (1885) [6:34] Der Sängers Fluch (1878) [17:34] Goethe-Lieder (1918-1924) [10:19] Reminiscenza Rossiniana (1924) [1:39] Martin Bruns (baritone); Ulrich Eisenlohr (piano) rec. Munich, September 2004. DDD NAXOS 8.557245 [69:03]

In his time he was more famous as a performer and the only one of his compositions to have reached some level of general public awareness is his piano concerto. To judge Busoni’s skill as composer purely on that, though, would be similar to making a judgement about Beethoven based solely on the ninth symphony. Of course the two works have a chorus and outsized proportions in common, but as compositions they are hardly representative of their authors. So what, you could ask, is representative of Busoni the composer? Do his songs qualify in any way?

In all my years attending vocal recitals, I cannot recall ever having heard a song by Busoni. This recording, unfortunately, gives me a good reason why that could be the case. Put simply, they are, in the majority, juvenilia. That said, this selection of eighteen from over forty completed songs is enough to give one an idea of Busoni’s compositional diversity in the genre.

Whilst some of them show a little precociousness in handling text, the vocal line often remains in the shadows of the piano part when it comes to complexity and assurance. The early songs show the dominating influence of other composers as one might reasonably expect, and Brahms figures fairly highly on the list.

Although the language changes to Italian on occasion, the idiom remains absolutely German in spirit.

It seems that in the end the pianist within Busoni always wins out. If his songs are not representative of the composer then, are we left with his virtuoso piano opera paraphrases as the only ‘true’ Busoni works? Other Naxos releases suggest not, with violin and cello sonatas, the suites from his operas Turandot and Doktor Faust also available to explore. The operas, though, are better when heard in their full format. Of the piano works themselves, I would recommend the Fantasia Contrappuntistica as the most involved and involving, being in effect a lengthy meditation on Bach across a variety of means. With passable but hardly worldbeating performances this release is only for those fully intent on exploring a by-way of lieder repertoire.

Joseph HAYDN (1732–1809) Piano sonatas (1760-1780): Nr. 37 in D, Hob.XVI [10.22]; Nr. 43 in A flat-major, Hob.XVI [15.52]; Nr. 35 in C, Hob.XVI [11.37]; Nr. 31 in E, Hob.XVI [9.47]; Nr. 10 in C, Hob.XVI [9.01] Fazil Say (piano) rec. Théâtre des Quatre Saisons, Gradignan, France, July 2006. DDD. NAÏVE V5070 [58.34]

Fazil Say’s middle name must be “controversial”.

His Beethoven sonatas disc for Naïve divided critical opinion upon release. Some – including me – valued it for giving voice to the angst and tumult inside much of the composer’s writing. Others found the emotions evident in the playing to be too strong and misplaced: “A wild young man of the keyboard with really very little to say,” one eminent critic wrote. My colleague Kevin Sutton found Say’s “moaning and groaning” at the keyboard a distraction from the playing also.

The composer might have changed with this new recording, but the results make one sit up and take notice for better or worse from the very first notes of the D major sonata. Clearly Fazil Say has not lost any ability to shock with his playing, for this is no run-of-the-mill Haydn sonatas disc. The outer movements of his selected sonatas are wont to trip along sprightly enough, but it is the details of accents and chordal sonorities that after a short while begin to keep ones eyebrows firmly raised at what is going on.

The Rondo-Presto which closes sonata no. 43 is the most extreme example of impulsive contrast to be heard on this recording. For the most part it is phrased with some care, but at times the ends of phrases are reduced to humourless, disjointed single notes. Was this really what Haydn had in mind? Say, a composer himself, would like us to think so, but I am not wholly convinced. It seems to run so counter to the spirit of the movement thus far.

The feeling that wit has been sidelined in favour of pianistic effect seems almost inescapable in the sonatas that follow and on subsequent auditions of the disc as a whole. More is the pity, as Haydn’s sonatas are fine things and can always do with sterling advocacy. Whilst there is no doubting Say’s technical abilities, it’s a shame that he seems so reticent to let the music have its natural shape and voice. That said, when heard in careful isolation there are observations in individual movements that can delight, which a pianist of lesser facility might fail to bring out: the menuet of the sonata no. 10 carries cleanliness of articulation and definition of body as integral to the whole, for example. Here though, as so often throughout the recording, the result is tempered by Say’s obvious vocalisation. Putting up with such things in the concert hall is bad enough, but some self control in the recording studio might have been exercised.

Some mercifully brief thoughts from Fazil Say and more extensive notes on Haydn’s sonatas by Andreas Friesenhagen adequately set the scene in the booklet.

For all its points of contention this recording is hard to ignore and is certainly a Haydn recital like you’ve never heard before.

Richard HOWARD (b. 1946) Prairie Visions - a suite for piano.

Richard Howard (piano) rec. Zenph Studios, Raleigh, North Carolina, July 2006.

DDD. MSR CLASSICS MS1178 [62.51]

The information to support this release is rather cursory, but it is evident that composer/pianist Richard Howard is something of a polymath: a college biology professor and fencing coach in addition to being a semi-professional musician.

He is quoted as saying, "The seven pieces that make up the Prairie Visions suite are the result of 30 years of composition and refinement. The music is my homage to the Texas Great Plains, which I have called home all my life." Having never seen the Texas Great Plains myself, I can only assume that his aim in the compositions is to create sound vistas that evoke aspects of the landscape and its atmosphere. The movements have titles such as "Prairie Tempest", "Sunrise", "Haunted Mesa", "Galaxies of the Night", "Love Song of the Western Wind", "Dance of Fate" and "Sunset Refrain and Reverie". Taken as a whole the various movements could create a montage across a series of moods and times. The movements work when heard individually too, as there is next to no material that links them together.

The introductory note about Richard Howard also states that his "free nature ‌ led him to work in the Romantic Russian and French Impressionistic traditions". Indeed, the music does seem very improvised, relying more on repetition and slight variation within each movement than real thematic development. Any Russian or French influences are somewhat general and indirectly felt in this extended Texan sound landscape; certainly no specific composers are identifiable as having any meaningful impact. That could be something of a pity, as direct influences might have given Howard the composer a more individual voice. What we have though is a mixture of large gestures calculated to arrest and impact momentarily, but without long term significance, played off against dappled repeated sequences lending an air of space over a firmly fixed musical-landscape ground.

As a player Howard captures the grand sweep of his writing with ease and manages nuance adequately also. As with the composition, what I miss in his playing is the authority of his voice: that which makes you sit up and take notice. It could be the slight indistinctness that his fingering has at times, which can make forte passages a little overpowered especially given his tendency to use the sustain pedal as captured by the full bodied recording.

It is a pleasant enough disc, which Richard Howard sinks his heart into. For me, however, it is not especially memorable in terms of composition or playing, though others might feel differently.

Leos JANÁČEK (1854-1928) Sinfonietta (1926) [22.57] Taras Bulba, rhapsody for orchestra (1915-1918) [21.55] The Cunning Little Vixen: suite (1921-1923) [16.30] Bamberg Symphony Orchestra/Jonathan Nott rec. Joseph-Keilberth-Saal, Bamberg, Germany; 25-28 October 2004. DDD. Co-production with Bavarian Radio, Munich TUDOR

7135 [61.42]

I have found Jonathan Nott’s Schubert recordings with the Bamberg Symphony rather lacklustre and have often been puzzled by the positive critical opinion lauded upon them. Few such feelings exist with this disc, however.

When heard on a standard CD player, the brass in the opening Fanfare of Janáček’s Sinfonietta are fulsome in their creation of the right atmosphere. Nott does not blast the listener with the brass as other conductors, notably Sir Charles Mackerras, have done in the past. To my way of thinking that makes Nott’s recording all the stronger. The ensuing Andante/Allegro is tensely argued yet the orchestral lines remain clear and with body throughout. The third movement Moderato starts with a suitably airy ambience being created, capturing the delicacy of much that is contained in Janáček’s writing, though a near-military feel is present in some contributions made by the brass. The fourth movement Allegretto is a sequence of carefully graded dynamics, which prove somewhat effective. The closing Andante con moto/Allegretto sees a gradual build-up of tension and an eventual return to the opening fanfares of the work.

Overall, as a reading I find that something just does not add up to the sum achieved by Mackerras on Decca or Kubelik on DG. Kubelik’s recording of Taras Bulba also holds its own against the more brilliantly recorded version that Nott conducts. The tension in Kubelik’s recording is arguably heightened by the relative age of his recording, though the sound was good for its time and is still respectable. Tudor’s engineering for Nott seems too literal whereas Kubelik achieves more through suggestion in this death-filled orchestral rhapsody.

The comparative rarity here is The Cunning Little Vixen suite, as arranged by Frantisek Jilek, rather than the later suite arranged by Talich, taking material from the middle of Act I, Act II including the Vixen’s entrance, and Act III’s first “transformation”. It makes for a sequence that fuses the feeling for nature with rather grander overtones, and it is this last aspect in which the Bamberg players excel to bring both the suite and the disc to an involving conclusion. The music is well supported by informative notes from Walter Labhart.

Wolfgang Amadeus MOZART (1756-1791) Piano Concerto No. 19 in F major K459 (1784) [27:48] Piano Concerto No. 24 in C minor K491 (1785-86) [28:18] Clara Haskil (piano) Lausanne Chamber Orchestra/Victor Desarzens rec. Théâtre de Beaulieu, Lausanne, October 1957 (K459) and June 1956 (K491) CLAVES 50-2617 [56:13]

For much of her career Clara Haskil remained a ‘pianist’s pianist’, an artist that relatively few took much notice of until the final decade of her life. Then, suddenly, she was in demand and famous. Although the fame was fully deserved it was something she refused to take seriously. Partnerships with Enescu, Fricsay, Grumiaux and Hindemith amongst many others yielded fruit in terms of concerts and – in most cases – recordings. As Jérôme Spycket’s passionately heartfelt accompanying programme note makes clear, Clara’s recorded legacy is as precious as it is infuriating, due to the fact that several versions of some works exist whilst whole tranches of her early repertoire are lost to us. Whilst I find her as brilliant in Beethoven as de Falla I am no less grateful that uniquely Haskil succeeded in taking dryness out of Hindemith’s "The Four Temperaments". I have to admit though that above all Mozart was her special preserve. Mozart’s piano concerto 19 in F major exists in five other versions with Haskil as soloist, and concerto 24 exists in six others. So it’s reasonable to ask if a release featuring yet another version of both works is needed. Haskil addicts will, I dare say, claim that it is; and might already have rushed to purchase the disc.

If one needs other reasons to investigate the release there are several that can be pointed to. Firstly, these are radio recordings of live performances. Comparing Haskil’s studio recordings against live performances I feel that she lost her inhibitions in front of an audience and thus tended to give freer performances as a result. This recording was made using a microphone set-up that caught the details of orchestral sonority as well as the soloist, if not always favourably. For the most part, the ensemble does not overwhelm the soloist as so often happens in amateurishly recorded live performances. Allied to this there’s little reason to curse the audience’s presence. Yes, they applaud wildly at the end of each concerto, but are largely silent during the music itself.

Secondly, the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra is an ideal-sized orchestra for Mozart; it is large enough so that each section has some body to its tone but small enough to retain a transparent lightness when the textural layers thin out in piano passages.Third is the conductor, Victor Desarzens. A conductor new to me, his early career was as a violinist in the Orchestra de la Suisse Romande, before conducting the LCO from 1942 to 1972. He also taught conducting at the Lausanne Conservatoire. A quick browse on the web reveals a steadily growing output of archive performances that featured him. From these concertos it is obvious that he was a Mozartian with taste and flair. I would rather that than a star name who injects precious little other than a mighty maestro’s ego into proceedings.

But in the end it comes down, inevitably, to Clara Haskil; not as a factor by herself but how her playing and interpretation work with the other points I mentioned above. Nowhere do all the factors come together better than in the Andante movement of the C minor concerto. The sound is spacious, with a near ideal balance between soloist and orchestra. If the rest of the concerto comes across with not quite the same refinement, then the recording itself is relatively to blame. In tutti passages it can harden somewhat, and this is a major affliction throughout the F major concerto. As heard on this disc, Haskil’s playing sounds uncharacteristically lumpy and at odds with Mozart’s intentions. Should you want Haskil in this concerto, a better recommendation is her studio recording from 1957 with the Bavarian State Orchestra under Ferenc Fricsay on DG 449 722-2. The couplings are the concerto in B flat major, K. 595, and the F major sonata, K 280. The Claves disc, however, will have its niche appeal for Haskil enthusiasts.

Francis POULENC (1899-1963) The Carmelites - Opera in three acts (1953-56) Libretto by the composer after Georges Bernanos' play Dialogue des Carmélites, revised English version

by Joseph Machlis Ashley Holland (baritone) - Marquis de la Force Catrin Wyn-Davies (soprano) - Blanche de la Force Peter Wedd (tenor) - Chevalier de la Force Gary Coward (baritone) - Thierry Natalie Herman (soprano) - Off-stage voice Felicity Palmer (mezzo) - Madame de Croissy Josephine Barstow (soprano) - Mother Marie Orla Boylan (soprano) - Madame Lidoine Sarah Tynan (soprano) - Sister Constance Jane Powell (mezzo) - Mother Jeanne Anne Marie Gibbons (mezzo) - Sister Mathilde Ryland Davies (tenor) - The Chaplain William Berger (baritone) - Monsieur Javelinot James Edwards (tenor) - First Commissioner Roland Wood (baritone) - Second Commissioner Toby Stafford-Allen (baritone) - First Officer David Stephenson (baritone) - Gaoler English National Opera Orchestra and Chorus/Paul Daniel rec. Blackheath Halls, London, 20-26 October 2005.

DDD. CHANDOS CHAN 3134(2) [79.50 + 64.25] It was my distinct pleasure to review for Seen and Heard ENO’s production of The Carmelites when it was last staged in October 2005. What struck me most then was the power inherent in Phyllida Lloyd’s staging, although the particularly strong lead quartet of Catrin Wyn-Davies, Felicity Palmer, Josephine Barstow and Sarah Tynan left their mark with indelible contributions too.

This recording, made at much the same time as that run of performances, highlights several aspects of Poulenc’s musical personality that are intertwined within the piece. The Carmelites is Poulenc’s most complex statement on the personal nature of religious belief and the sacrifice that it can often require those most devoted to it to make.

Being closer in spirit to the world of the Gloria than the seemingly carefree Parisian ambiance that imbues the piano concerto, for example, it is a work that must be performed with reverence but without becoming oversanctified in the process. The stories of Blanche de la Force, Madame de Croissy, Sister Constance and the other nuns are first and foremost human stories, then religious ones. Personal terror is played out against state terror, and as such the consuming mood is one of fear that never dissipates throughout the entire duration of the piece.

Inevitably this recording raises the issue of language and performance. I found Joseph Machlis’ English translation to be sympathetic to the spirit of Poulenc’s own libretto. If any are troubled by the idea of hearing The Carmelites in translation, I would merely point out that the work was commissioned for La Scala, Milan, and was first given there in Italian during the 1957 season. A reasonable recording from that production exists, featuring Romanian soprano Virginia Zeani as a very fine Blanche de la Force, should anyone wish to seek it out. A pity that another Romanian, Leontina Vaduva, was not heard often enough in the role when she took it into her repertoire. Inevitably though any newcomer has to stand its ground against Dervaux’s classic account for EMI, recorded under the supervision of the composer (Great Recordings of the Century 562 751-2).

I have to say I think Paul Daniel’s recording holds its own pretty well in terms of the dynamic pacing and sense of energy he draws from the ENO orchestra. Indeed, hearing playing of this calibre makes you wonder why the two parted company as they did. Daniel manages to capture an edge in the distinctly Poulencian orchestral timbres that stick firmly in the mind and register over a long period the inevitability of the drama’s final outcome.

The cast is understandably dominated by the women in it, though the male roles play a crucial role also. I still feel that vocally at least Felicity Palmer steals the show as Madame de Croissy, such is the power of her

characterisation. It is given with absolute commitment, but no less might be said of Catrin Wyn-Davies, who sings Blanche de la Force with unimpeachable musicality and awareness of tone, line and nuance, but overall Denise Duval for Dervaux has the edge as Blanche. Sarah Tynan’s Sister Constance continues to be a considerable highlight in an already distinguished career. Perhaps one day there may be a Blanche to set amongst the best to come from her? The other sisters are a well-matched group vocally, giving their parts with passion and feeling to reinforce the point that they are no mere extras in this terrifying drama. Ashley Holland and Ryland Davies stand out for their contributions amongst the men. David Stephenson’s gaoler exerts his malevolent authority with ease.

Much recommended then, whether you’re after a version in English or an alternative to sit alongside EMI’s recording with Dervaux. There is much to enjoy and move you in this recording.

Franz SCHUBERT (1797-1828) String Quartet No. 14 in D minor D.810 Death and the Maiden (1824) [33:06]; String Quartet No. 15 in G major D.887 (1826) [39:58] Busch Quartet (Adolf Busch; Gösta Andreasson (violins); Karl Doktor (viola); Hermann Busch, (cello)) rec. 16 October 1936 (D.810); 22, 30 November 1938, Studio 3, Abbey Road, London (D.887). ADD MONO. EMI CLASSICS GREAT RECORDINGS OF THE CENTURY 3615882 [73.33]

Quite what I can add to the comments that have been lavished on these recordings over the years, I do not really know. I can merely affirm that these are readings worthy of their “Great Recordings” labelling. Anyone seriously interested in Schubert string quartets should have this disc in their collection.

Of course, not all old recordings are worth listening. Their inferior sound quality, of course, counts against them.

But then again some modern recordings are compromised by the exactness of their sound, which fails to capture the ambience along with the musical notes.

These vintage EMI recordings offer plenty of atmosphere, and I am grateful that Andrew Walter’s remastering has preserved a touch of hiss from the originals that can be heard if one turns up the volume.

In the D.810 quartet, the sound balance is near ideal in capturing the group’s rich and sonorous bass line, mellow alto and variously soft and incisively sharp violin parts. The opening Allegro has a natural rhythmic flow with the work’s dramatic façade established from the first. As Tully Potter comments in his excellent accompanying notes this is music of “heroic scale and […] anger” that was “largely overlooked by a public fed on the image of the composer as a happy-go-lucky Biedermeier figure”. Listen, for example, how the Busch quartet bring out the Allegro’s crucial point of angst at around ten minutes into the movement. It not only seems rightly called for, but a consequence of all that has gone before.

The long-breathed Andante con moto benefits immeasurably from the unforced dynamics and interplay of the four players. There may be tiny moments of suspect intonation that creep into the performance. Given that these recordings come from an era that regarded such things as negligible it is rather our problem if we cannot adjust to and accept this aspect as part of the whole experience. Only when playing at a real forte do the instruments sound crowded, otherwise their tone is delicately preserved. This is a testament to the wide range of dynamics brought to the work under Adolf Busch’s guidance.

The scherzo and trio is unusually brief, given that most repeats were omitted. These would have required a fifth side of a 78rpm record when originally released. What there is of it is finely played, and forms an effective

contrast to the closing presto tarantella, which receives a performance of real strength with self-propelling drive.

The drama contained within the D.887 quartet is evident from the rhythmic angularity of the Allegro molto moderato’s opening pages, and much of the hesitancy that can be felt thereafter. The Busch quartet live and convey the range of emotions in this music like no other quartet I have ever encountered or am ever likely to experience. On one level it could be tempting to read into their nervous and lacerating energy much about the mood of the late 1930s, when the work was recorded by a quartet at its artistic peak. That said this factor does not deepen one’s knowledge of Schubert much, if at all. There is little doubt though that Schubert’s music benefits from the tension with which the Busch quartet invest it. More so than the finale of D.810, this quartet is one that must be driven in approach – even in supposedly more relaxed passages – but always with an ear for structure and sonority. Tragedy and agony are two qualities Tully Potter identifies in the second movement particularly, but I would add humanity also. There is nothing brash or barbaric about either the quartet’s conception or playing here. Indeed, if one needed a single movement to pinpoint the group’s quality, I would choose this one. The cello line is a full and firm foundation; the alto builds naturally upon it whilst the violins do not over-dominate proceedings.

The Scherzo, as the Busch quartet plays it, is a model of Viennese style. It’s welcome to hear more of the movement, particularly the immensely lyrical trio section, taken at a real Allegretto tempo – not always an easy one to judge. The closing Allegro assai is full of instrumental exchanges that show just how fine the Busch quartet were at responding to their own playing within the group. Many a quartet today could learn from their example.

Their feeling for the music is unsurpassed nearly seventy years after it was recorded.

Robert SCHUMANN (1810-1856) Kinderszenen, op. 15 (1838) [20.00]; Etudes Symphoniques, op. 13 (1837) [37.47] Luiza Borac (piano) rec. St Dunstan’s Church, Mayfield, 25-28 April 2001.

DDD. AVIE GBELZ0200011-40 [57.47]

That Luiza Borac has established a reputation as one of the finest interpreters of Enescu’s piano music today is beyond doubt. Two impressive releases attest to that; but it would be a mistake to categorise her as ‘just’ an Enescu player. This disc shows why.

Kinderszenen opens with a delicately nuanced account of "About foreign lands and peoples", which does not overstretch the slight moments of hesitancy within the writing, as some pianists are tempted to do. The second scene’s "curious story" is perhaps told in a little strait-laced a manner, as if to signify that actually the teller Schumann, rather than Borac – finds it all a bit boring. The "catch me if you can" moment runs away with itself nicely, showing just how deftly Borac can alter the mood. The upbeat mood continues through vignettes such as "Happiness" and "Knight of the Rocking Horse". The "important event" of the sixth movement conveys much through its relative grandeur of statement, just as the following scene, "Dreaming" relies on pianistic introspection for its effectiveness. Borac does us the favour of not overplaying the music, rather she leaves it with a slight fragility.

The mood of the moment dictates, almost by force, a pause before proceeding to the homely and distinctly German fireside scene. "Almost too serious" and "Frightening" initially seem cut from much the same compositional cloth, as in them both you can hear a child’s wide-eyed sense of wonder at the world around him.

The child falls asleep in the penultimate scene through tiredness and "the child’s eyes cannot be closed in a nicer way", according to Clara Wieck in a letter to Schumann. She commented too on the simplicity of the set and the growth of her delight as she played them. Much of their surface simplicity is evident in Borac’s playing, as is delight in the music. A distinct strength is that she integrates the more famous scenes into the whole, rather than separating them out as focal points for attention. Above all though Borac is mindful of the underlying mood of seriousness that lurks within these short pieces. Just listen to the lofty thoughts expressed in the final scene, "The Poet Speaks".

Alternative versions of Kinderszenen are legion, most inferior by a mile when placed in comparison with that recorded by Clara Haskil (Philips). Haskil’s own physical frailty seems to register all too readily through her playing, which achieves much through not distorting the work’s structure. Lang Lang, in his recent recording for DG, proves less effective in my view because he seeks to make too much out of music that should just be played, and not subjected to over-conscious interpretation.

The Etudes Symphoniques comprises a set of sixteen studies and a finale, although their existence in this form took some time to transpire. Originally, twelve studies were written and published in various editions – of which the 1834 is most commonly adhered to – before Brahms and Clara Wieck released four further variations and the finale for posthumous publication. A major problem for any pianist is one of structure and overall shape of the piece in performance. However, given that even Schumann admitted much of the music was "pathos-laden" and that he tried "to break up whatever pathos there may be in them by using various colours […] a different colour each time", the performer must also consider the subtleties of a nuanced palette too.

Borac, going by her recording, favours a sober balance of hues in the first half of the work, painted within a broad tempo range too. Yet the second half is more upbeat, starting with the sixth variation, which leads to a clearly articulated account of the seventh. Faster tempi continue to dominate much of the rest, even though the clarity could be helped by more distinct pedalling at times. Tonal balance is also important, and Borac’s Steinway model D grand has a soft, rich lower register which is usefully employed against the crystalline quality of the top range in appendix variation 5. Of much stronger stuff are the three remaining sections, with the finale proving notable for its grand sweep and sense of lyrical declamation.

Should one be interested in comparative readings, I would suggest Ragna Schirmer’s no less insightful recording for Berlin Classics. It is recorded with a different ordering of the variations in marginally more helpful sound quality. The liner-notes on Schirmer’s set are more in depth than those for Borac, with alternative playing orders suggested should you wish to programme your CD player to explore them. Schumann’s Beethoven Etudes, WoO 31, - a work closely connected with the Symphonic Etudes - form Schirmer’s companion piece.

Those new to Schumann wanting Kinderszenen or those keen to discover the comparatively lesser known Etudes Symphoniques will not go far wrong with Luiza Borac as their guide. Given this disc’s special offer price as an added incentive, it is worth serious consideration, even to sit alongside other versions of choice you might own.

Georg TINTNER (1917-1999) Violin Sonata (c1941-1944) [23.03] * Variations on a Theme of Chopin (1934) [11:29] Prelude, "Sehnsucht" (Longing) (c1938) [2:54] Auf den tod eines Freundes (On the death of a Friend) (c1932-33) [3:17] Piano Sonata in F minor (c1932-33) [10:13] 2 Fugues (1939): Fugue in G major [2:16]; Fugue in C minor [1:28] Trauermusik (Musica Tragica) (1941) [6:23] Helen Huang (piano); * Cho-Liang Lin (violin) rec. Glenn Gould Studio, CBC, Toronto, Canada, 8-10 June 2005. DDD. NAXOS 8.570258 [63:04]

Like other musicians active around his time such as Furtwängler, Klemperer, Victor de Sabata, Artur Schnabel or Wilhelm Kempff, Georg Tintner viewed composition as his major musical activity, whilst seeking sanctuary in performance as a means of earning a steady income. Thankfully over recent years the compositions of artists such as these have become more widely known thanks in large part to several recordings becoming available.

Budget labels including Arte Nova and Timpani have played a large part, Naxos/Marco Polo too, but also others such as Orfeo and Wergo, often championing a particular composer. This disc of world premiere recordings presents the case for Georg Tintner’s output, or at least a representative sample of it. Leaving his uncompleted late opera aside, he did write choral music – his Steht auf! was adopted by the Vienna Boys Choir when he was one of their members in the 1930s – and also a number of songs for female voice.

Just as he was a prodigious conductor from an early age – becoming assistant conductor at the Vienna State Opera at the age of 19 – many of the compositions here stem from the early to mid-period of his life. Even a cursory glance at the titles for many of the works tells you much about the man and his outlook. There is a marked belief in the supremacy of form. As in Furtwängler’s writing, Tintner’s belief in the sonata and the fugue reigns supreme, almost to the extent that form becomes an end inextricably linked with the survival of musical culture beyond the politically turbulent times they lived through. Klemperer, in his string quartets at least, does not project this feeling so strongly, whilst Schnabel and Kempff utilise form for lighter, though still well intentioned ends, on the whole. More so than with any of the others though one picks up on the thread of personal tragedy that accompanies Tintner’s life from his childhood as a Jew to his choice to take his own life when no longer able to express himself through music, either as composer or conductor, weakened by cancer.

So this is not joyous music per se, but in its tersely argued pages there is material of undeniable substance. The major works, in terms of length at least, would naturally make the most immediate impact on the listener. The violin sonata presents writing so assured for the violin that given Cho-Liang Lin’s undoubted commitment to it, it is almost a shame not to hear him in other works. Still, with its four movements taking turns at portraying the emotions such as love, defiance, sorrow and triumph, one is taken on quite an intense roller-coaster ride across a course of considerable highs and lows.

Helen Huang accompanies with much need confidence of voicing and fingering, which she brings to the other items on the disc too. Other highlights for me are the single movement piano sonata, which treats concision as a laudable compositional end in itself. Late Romantic in mould though its heady youthful mix of influences from Brahms via Chopin and Scriabin is noteworthy in one so young. The Chopin variations perhaps indicate something of the young composer’s own pianistic prowess. The Prelude, Auf den tod eines Freundes and Trauermusik are the most poignant, underlining the nature of personal loss that affected Tintner so much. To my ears, the two Fugues remind of the importance of Bach as a bedrock of musical values above all else, and the loss that music suffers when it abandons quality of humanity and constancy at its core. Tintner saw serialism as the embodiment of this abandonment, and recognised that the twelve-tone experiment would be short lived. Supported by brief but informative notes the excellent performances present Tintner as a serious and principled composer.

Paul WRANITZKY (1756-1808) Grande sinfonie caractéristique pour la paix avec la Republique française, in C minor Op. 31 (1797) [32.34] Symphony in D major, Op. 52 (1804-5) [24.35] NDR Radiophilharmonie Hannover/Howard Griffiths (conductor) rec. Grosser Sendesaal, NDR, Hannover, April 2004.

SACD/CD DDD. CPO 777 054-2

[57.11]

The Belgian violinist and musicologist François Joseph Fétis (1784–1871) once commented: “The music of [Paul] Wranitzky was in fashion when it was new because of his natural melodies and brilliant style. He treats the orchestra well, especially in symphonies. I recall that, in my youth, his works held up very well in comparison with those of Haydn. Their premature abandonment of today has been for me a source of astonishment.”

Being an exact contemporary of Mozart, 2006 was also the 250th anniversary of his birth, and 2008 will mark the 200th anniversary of his death. He was all but overlooked in the past year given the dominance of Mozart upon the musical scene. However it is to be hoped that he will grab some more attention in the future. Some indication that this might happen is indicated by two recent written accounts of his work becoming available.

This disc contains two of Paul Wranitzky’s most involving symphonies. Bohemian in origin, Wranitzky moved to Vienna where, along with his brother Anton, he quickly established a reputation as a competent and colourful composer. He writes in the high Viennese style, and his melodies have a certain brio and swagger about them.

Only occasionally does his writing seem a touch formulaic compared with the inventiveness of Mozart. Although it is tempting to linger on the comparison given that the two men knew and respected each other, it is fruitless to do so. If one is searching for comparisons far better are the models of Haydn and Dittersdorf. The latter’s “Symphony of five nations” might in some respects be a kind of blueprint for the Grande sinfonie, op. 31. The programme is one of war, tumult, attack and defence, all of which are clearly articulated in Wranitzky’s score as it charts the path from C minor to blazing C major.

The performance given by the NDR Radiophilharmonie Hannover under conductor Howard Griffiths convinces of the symphony’s power and mastery of structure. True, there is some reliance upon the march, but given the subject matter this might hardly have been avoided. Griffiths injects plenty of punch and passion into the work.

Listening on a stereo CD player and not SACD, much of Wranitzky’s care with orchestral balance still comes across as having been attentively observed, as has his fondness for interweaving string and wind lines. There are moments of genuinely arresting originality that surpass anything found in Beethoven’s rather lame-duck “Wellington’s Victory”, for a start. Take the bass drum and timpani cannon fire in the third movement as but one example, all of which is captured with ample atmosphere in this no-nonsense recording.

The D major symphony, op. 52, by comparison should be counted as one of Wranitzky’s more ordinary works in the genre, having no grand programme to fulfil. It is upbeat and festive in mood from the first. The third movement shows an affinity to Haydn’s London symphonies, though contrasts of material and a certain rustic character find their way into the music also. Exactly how memorable you’ll find this music in long run I can’t say, but there is no doubting its ability to draw you in and involve one fully as it is being played.

Wranitzky proves a momentarily interesting composer whose symphonies form a useful link between those of Haydn, Mozart and the young Beethoven. They are given committed advocacy here, and supported by usefully detailed notes from Bert Hagels. Those keen to know or hear more are directed to the links and literature below.

Further listening: Symphonies Opp. 11, 31 and 36: London Mozart Players/Matthias Bamert (Chandos CD 9916) Further reading: The Wranitzky Project website David Wyn Jones: The Symphony in Beethoven’s Vienna. Cambridge UP, 2006. 231pp. Hardback. ISBN: 0-52186261-2

Multi-composer recordings Libre comme un oiseau Aurelian-Octav POPA (b.1937) Perpetuum mobile [10.05] Henry PURCELL (1659-1695) Prélude from The Fairy Queen [1.33] Martian NEGREA (1893-1973) Le mois de Mars [2.40] Henry PURCELL Prélude from The Fairy Queen [1.46] Igor STRAVINSKY (1882-1971) Three Pieces for solo clarinet [5.13] Henry PURCELL Hornpipe from The Fairy Queen [0.56] Tiberiu OLAH (1928-2002) Sonata for solo clarinet [6.40] Johann Sebastian BACH (1685-1750) Partita [2.37] Olivier MESSIAEN (1908-1992) Abîme des Oiseaux [6.31] François COUPERIN (1668-1733) Les petits moulins à vent [1.21] John CAGE (1912-1992) Sonata [4.36] Hans-Ulrich LEHMANN (1937-) Mosaïk [7.05] Carl Philippe Emanuel BACH (1714-1788) Solfegietto [1.32] Aaron COPLAND (1900-1990) Cadenza [3.35] Corneliu CEZAR (1937-1998) Théâtrale [1.28] Olivier MESSIAEN Subtilité des Corps Glorieux [3.34] Mihnea BRUMARIU (b.1958) Musique pour Aurelian [5.10] Olivier MESSIAEN Hymne des passereaux au lever du jour [1.13] Aurelian-Octav Popa (clarinet) rec. IRCAM, Espace de Projection, December 2004.

DDD. CALLIOPE CAL 9354 [69.30] Here is a disc that guarantees the listener something out of the ordinary. Although the cover emphasises the inclusion of Messiaen, Stravinsky and Purcell the range is much greater. With effortless ease Aurelian-Octav Popa, solo clarinettist of the ‘George Enescu’ Philharmonic Orchestra in Bucharest, puts the old cheek-by-jowl with the new and the known alongside the unknown.

Popa’s own composition, the longest on the disc, forms the first track. In it he announces the versatility of both his instrument and a formidable playing technique. The playing of a solo line is superimposed on six simultaneously played recordings of other clarinet parts to weave a web of sound that is conservative of name but daring in expression. He takes the clarinet to its limits in terms of range but succeeds in demonstrating that even in individual parts he is always aware of “the notion of symphony (sounding together)”, as he says in the accompanying notes.

A brief Purcell Prelude follows to throw a stark contrast on Popa’s multi-voiced composition. A variant repeat of the same Prelude appears two tracks later. Taken from a prelude for string orchestra, Popa’s first version presents

a rather easy-going yet straight laced view, the second version explores the clarinet’s range to a greater extent in a free and easy manner. Purcell’s brief Hornpipe (track 6) makes a characterful interlude between the diverse sound worlds of Stravinsky and Tiberiu Olah. Couperin and two Bachs complete the selection of “charming early compositions”, as Popa calls them in his brief yet incisive notes. The Couperin is presented with a subtly nuanced yet fluid line, its quasi-cyclical nature proves strangely haunting too. JS Bach’s Partita is given a sonorous performance of sensitivity, long-breathed and full toned. Through careful phrasing and voicing the piece seems entirely natural on the clarinet – no small tribute to Popa’s gifts as a performer. C.P.E. Bach’s Solfegietto contains no small measure of poignancy in its writing. Popa intentionally plays the piece as a brief yet emotional acknowledgment of a great father’s influence by his scarcely less gifted son.

The rest of the disc is given over to modern miniatures for the instrument. Martian Negrea’s Le mois de Mars incorporates subtle colourings from Debussy and Enescu and emphasises the fact that Romanian composers often established and maintained western links in their writing, rather than working in an isolated environment.

Olah’s single movement sonata draws its inspiration from Brâncuşi’s series of sculptures “Maiastra” which encapsulate the spirit of a Romanian folkloric bird that flies at the edge of the known universe, singing out into the abyss. The work attends various elements of the bird – soaring flight to begin with; its lonely and haunting song; the isolation of its existence. In contrast to Brâncuşi’s sculptures which are fames for their sensuality of curve and line, Olah treats the subject with stark angularity of rhythm at times. Popa willingly exploits this in his playing and makes purposeful contrast between the earlier soaring line and later more insistent ones that tell of an endless abyss. An alternative take on the work is given by Karin Dornbusch on a Caprice Records CD (CAP 21551), but she is not recorded so atmospherically and in adopting a faster overall tempo smoothes over much angularity to give a less characterful performance than Popa offers.

Corneliu Cezar’s brief Théâtrale, used as radio signature tune in Romania, is notable for its dotted rhythms and repeated intentionally sparse line across the clarinet’s range. Richness of tone and timbre are evident in Popa’s playing. Mihnea Brumariu’s composition - written for Popa - is more reflective in character initially, before asking the soloist to articulate the boundaries of notes, glissandi and soft rhythms in quick succession. The closing section carries something of a clown’s humour about it, with surface laughs hiding more serious thoughts.

Stravinsky’s Three pieces is a work that Popa admits to having strong emotions for. A sense of repose is caught in the intentional piano playing of the first piece, contrasting with the more exuberant rhythmic intricacies that follow. More than other works on the disc the work allows Popa the freedom to express the most subtle sustained dynamics that the clarinet is capable of. John Cage’s sonata is surprising for the relative conformity of its material. By stating that the dynamics and phrasing for performance are not indicated in the score he gives the player a free hand to push boundaries. Admittedly, Popa plays things a little on the safe side for the recording, but he does succeed in communicating much of the spirit of liberation that is central to Cage’s persona. Hans-Ulrich Lehmann’s Mosaïk, appropriately, is built out of small shards of notes grouped together with the appearance of randomness. The work also betrays a kinship to Webern’s music in that at first it can yield little to the listener, but in course of repeated listening patterns can gradually emerge. Copland’s Cadenza is rather easier in its discretely flowing melody to take on board during a first listening.

Three works by Messiaen complete the recorded repertoire. Popa worked with Messiaen both as a composer and performer from the 1970s onwards and their professional relationship was evidentially a close one. Abîme des Oiseaux is imbued with restraint across its intentionally long lines before chattering to life amidst the subdued atmosphere that the solo line leaves hanging in the air. Subtilité des Corps Glorieux and Hymne des passereaux au lever du jour spring with distinctiveness from the same pen. Uplifting, they hint both individually and together of thoughts beyond the earthly realm. Popa’s playing is fully involved and refined in letting the composer’s beloved birdsong motifs sing out with ease.

Aurelian-Octav Popa’s own brief yet insightful annotations on the works set the seal on this most engaging recital.

The recorded sound is natural and atmospheric. But the real joy of it is that the playing order provides but one possibility for listening; programming your CD player to reorder the tracks allows for others to be explored – and I have enjoyed making my own associations in this way several times now and look forward to making new ones in the future. Let your imagination take flight!

Vocal recitals Julia Varady: Song of Passion [56.26] A film by Bruno Monsaingeon Julia Varady in recital [28.45] Richard WAGNER (1813-1883) Wesendonck Lieder (1857) * Peter Ilyich TCHAIKOVSKY (1840-1893) Kaby znala ia * Bonus rehearsal [8.35] Franz Peter SCHUBERT (1797-1828) Der Tod und das Mädchen, D531 ** Julia Varady (soprano) *Viktoria Postnikova (piano) ** Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (piano) Film and recital recorded in Paris, 1998; rehearsal filmed in Berlin, 1998.

DVD Region 0.

EMI CLASSICS DVB 3884589

[93.49]

I heard Julia Varady sing live only once: in London as Tove in Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder some ten years ago. The BBC Symphony Orchestra under Andrew Davis gave a committed performance. Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau took the role of the Speaker – the second I experienced, between Hans Hotter and Ernst Haefliger. As for Varady herself, my concert diary notes that she “lacked nothing in ardour of expression, creating more impact with her careful use of words than the size of her voice, but still able to cope well with the demands of Schoenberg’s lateRomantic beast. Should hear more of her …” Alas, I never did.

This DVD gives one the opportunity to get a full picture of Varady’s background, her art and distinguished career, and her prime motivations for singing. Indeed, Bruno Monsaingeon, director of the three films included here, “hopes that the viewer could enter Varady’s intense world … it might also provide a belated revelation of one of the most fascinating vocal and musical personalities of our time.” About that I have no complaint, but until reading the full text of Monsaingeon’s essay on Varady included on the DVD, I did slightly doubt his assessment of her Varady as “a mystery” and the embodiment of an unlikely fusion of vocal art: Maria Callas and Elisabeth Schwarzkopf. To be frank, such a statement made me want to watch the DVD even more.

What emerges in the first of the films, “Song of Passion”, is an in-depth biographical portrait of Varady. From her childhood in Oradea, Romanian Transylvania, the daughter of ethnic Hungarians, she moved to Cluj to pursue what sounds like a monastic musical education. Then came her first operatic appearances as a contralto, closely followed by an assumption of soprano roles. Filmed in Portugal, she gives a lucid account of the claustrophobic atmosphere in Ceauçescu’s Romania, which led her to flee to the West in the early 1970s in search of a wider career. That she succeeded was the result of hard work, effort and sacrifice for her art. Speaking in German and French, she recalls the main opportunities that came her way and the high points of a career which spanned more than thirty years. Key moments are illustrated with archive film footage, recordings and photographs. If Varady is not the household name that the quality of her singing should have made her, she remains very much a musician’s musician. She talks at length about finding the right tone, timbre and quality for each composer and sees herself as a servant of music. Rightly, the score and the composer come first for her.

Even though illustrations of her in performance take in segments of Verdi, Richard Strauss, Mozart and Wagner amongst others, it is the opportunity to see her at work with other artists that can give the most insight. The film includes a rehearsal sequence with Viktoria Postnikova for the Wesendonck-lieder recital included later on the DVD. Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, Varady’s husband, features prominently as pianist and conductor. His wise counsel on the choice of repertoire throughout her career is acknowledged, and they often memorably shared the stage together. The ‘bonus’ film of Varady rehearsing Schubert’s Der Tod und das Mädchen to his accompaniment

shows the exacting results that she is willingly pushed towards. It’s quite an interpretive masterclass, given by one who knows the music better than most, but Varady meets most challenges of linguistic inflection, dramatic timing and distinctive tone with individuality of insight along the way. The richness of her lower register is impressive, as is the fluidity of her middle, whilst in the upper reaches it gains a slight vulnerability. When heard with orchestra, as on several releases from the Orfeo label conducted by Fischer-Dieskau, what impresses most is the integrity of her tone. Although it can be projected with strength, it hardly ever loses focus or wavers from the note. If there is any possible weakness, it is a slight indistinctness of diction in favour of an emotional involvement that carries you along with the conviction of her performance.

So to Wagner’s Wesendonck-lieder. The recital, given before an invited audience, was the first professional collaboration between Varady and Postnikova. Monsaingeon’s decision to deliberately bring together these two formidable, yet under-acknowledged performers was surely a gamble. But it paid off. Postnikova’s sense of balance within the piano part underlines the point that the two must be treated as equals – Wagner’s cultured accompaniment to Wesendonck’s amateurish, yet endearingly clumsy verses. In combination, he raises her to a higher plane of sophistication. For her part, Varady gives the words nobility and for moments an ethereal quality.

Given that this piece continues to elude a ‘definitive’ performance in my opinion, Julia Varady’s has much to say that seems to identify with that elusiveness. She is no less searching in the Tchaikovsky encore, finding, to my ear at least, nuances of sound and emphasis with assurance.

Monsaingeon’s films leave me in no doubt that Julia Varady was an artist who never received the level of recognition she truly deserved. This DVD should help to rectify that to a large extent, and then leave you wanting belatedly to hunt out her recordings.

More on Julia Varady: YouTube: Strauss’s Four Last Songs, Wagner and a superb extract from Verdi’s Nabucco

Book reviews Szymanowski on Music: Selected Writings of Karol Szymanowski.

Edited and translated by Alistair Wightman.

Pub.: Toccata Press, London, 1999.

ISBN: 0907689 38 8. 390pp. Hardback £35.00 RRP

One of the composers who has occupied increasing prominence in my general listening over recent years is Karol Szymanowski. That his music is more widely known and played is much to be welcomed; he has been revealed as the most significant Polish composer since Chopin. His compositions carry the imprint of many influences and speak of a musical mind that was deeply and roundly cultured. The entry on Szymanowski in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians makes tantalising reference to his writings, listing several in the sources, and not having any available in English until now has been a source of frustration to this investigative listener.

The volume is cast in sections, with Wrightman's useful and authoritative introduction to Szymanowski's life and thought forming a much-needed context for what follows. Here Wightman draws to good effect upon the writings of others, particularly a volume edited by Jerzy Maria Smoter, to give a well-crafted portrait of Szymanowski's background and early years. As this contextual piece continues brief quotations from Szymanowski himself introduce many of the threads of composition, performance, musicology, philosophy, literature and sense of place that occupy the rest of the book. This section will be particularly useful for those with patchy or no prior knowledge of Szymanowski, or indeed those, like myself, who refer back to the mini-biography in tandem with reading the main texts. Some might wonder why this book includes only 'selected writings' and Wightman points out that this is due largely to the repetitive nature of Szymanowski's output. The volume presents approximately two-thirds of his writings.

Part one - On Critics and Criticism - consists of three texts that are should be seminal reading for anyone at all interested in the practice and social role of music criticism. I would however choose to dispute Szymanowski’s point that critics should seek to cover that which is currently fashionable over that which is not. Nevertheless he usefully analyses the position of Polish music in relation to what were then the more mainstream concerns of European composition. In doing so he staunchly defends the position of both his writings and compositions.

Part two – On Folk Music and Nationalism – explores these issues in some depth. From short interviews to more lengthy discursive pieces a picture quickly emerges of a composer opposed to the direct quotation of folk melodies, but one who placed emphasis on the "memory" of such tunes. In this respect Szymanowski was similar to Enescu in terms of approach. It is tempting also to read many of his writings in a quasi-ethnomusicological light, given that he concentrates at length in providing a response to Bartók’s own writings and providing in-depth analysis of Polish highland music.

Even Chopin is commented upon in terms of his Polishness, which Szymanowski claims, is misunderstood by most non-Poles. This point is again taken up in a lengthy piece about Chopin in Part three – On Nineteenth-century music. The section sees Szymanowski adopt the guise of a widely read musical historian. A solidly constructed argument regarding Romanticism in Music is advanced and the matter of its influence. He might start from the point of a provincial Pole, but in wide sweeps he includes Goethe, Shakespeare, Bach, Spohr, Mozart, Beethoven, Berlioz, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Chopin, Wagner, Bruckner, Schopenhauer, religious devotion and Nietzsche along the way. In fact, should one want an orientation of the topic from the viewpoint of a cultured man in 1928/9, this text would be hard to better.

Part four – On Twentieth-century music – sees Szymanowki extend his analysis towards his contemporaries. In doing so, one learns much of what he thinks about those on the wider musical scene - much of his thought is positive, being an open-minded individual - and the relative isolation of Poland in understanding many ‘outside’ composers. Russian composers – particularly Mussorgsky, Prokofiev, and Stravinsky – alongside Debussy, Ravel, Richard Strauss, Reger, and the "extremely radical" Arthur Bliss are singled out for attention. Wagner, Strauss and Schoenberg are the subject of an essay, as are Stravinsky, Les Six, Stravinsky, Ravel, Dukas and the Future of Culture in their own individual tracts. The last mentioned, given as a conference paper in Madrid in 1933, displays the timeliness of his thought and concerns over politically influenced nationalism as the stock-in-trade of music rather than its own freely determined ends and objectives.

Szymanowski was director of the State Conservatory in Warsaw from 1926 until retiring in 1930. Part five reflects his thoughts on the purpose, aims and value of music education. He defends the need for a world-aware conservatoire, reflecting his own outlook, and sets out the social benefits of education and music in combination for the Polish people. In this respect his writing was then not only ground-breaking for a Pole – a point he was aware of – but even today still carries strong resonances. One only has to think of how widely known and integrated Poland and its culture has become across Europe in recent years. The part music and its performers have played in that process is inestimable, and indeed, forms a model for other emergent countries to follow should they so wish.

The final part – On the Composer’s Life – is the most personal and autobiographical. Included is an introduction to planned memoirs (never completed) and a somewhat hostile interview about his work as a composer and his background. His touching memorial to Paweł Kochański, the violinist upon whom Szymanowski relied for technical advice and inspiration in his sting writing, completes the section and the volume. A pity perhaps that even a few pages were not found for some of his poems, stories or opera libretti on Benvenuto Cellini or Don Juan. One wonders – only briefly, mind – if he thought that Berlioz did a slap-dash job on the Florentine sculptor or that Mozart left a facet of the womaniser un-scored. Surely not, for he was far too knowledgeable and respectful a man, but to see his thoughts might have further rounded out his own creative ambitions in the operatic field.

Absorbing, enlightening about its author and intellectually rewarding this book is unreservedly recommended for those wanting to know more of this fascinating man and his world view.

Antonio Pappano, Con Passione Lucrèce Maeckelbergh Pub. Uitgeverij Snoeck, 2006. 224pp. Hardback.

Includes a cover mounted CD of Pappano in performance.

ISBN: 90-5349-527-4 (English edition)

This book presents the story so far about Antonio Pappano, the man and his career.

Lucrèce Maeckelbergh, has followed Pappano’s career over many years: throughout his highly successful tenure at Die Munt in Brussels and at Covent Garden, in addition to his symphonic conductor and pianist guises. That the book may have started as a series of radio interviews between artist and author in Brussels is undeniable, but the breadth and depth of the final publication give a rounder picture than any series of interviews could convey.

Pappano’s involvement was, Maeckelbergh says, "warm hearted, […] yet critical", as well it might have been on the part of any artist who is serious about how their art is understood.

The book is cast in five subdivided sections. Part one examines Pappano’s life and the role of music within it. It begins with what I imagine was a monologue delivered by the man himself. The monologue moves at break-neck speed through his early life, key influences, career highlights and select professional partnerships. If, when

reading it, one wishes the pace might relent so even the slightest elaboration could be made, it has to be acknowledged that much of Pappano’s own energy and enthusiasm is felt. Thus, in one sentence, when discussing early repertoire, Massenet sits alongside Carlisle Floyd, Bernstein and Sondheim. The reader is then taken through Pappano’s London childhood haunts in the company of director, friend and longstanding collaborator Keith Warner.

The biographical sketch continues with the family move from London to Bridgeport, Connecticut, where his skills as an accompanist were in much demand. Eventually, in the States opportunities arose at the New York City Opera, but the influence of his late father, Pasquale, himself a notable tenor, runs like a leitmotif through Pappano’s early development and even today his understanding of voices. Europe beckoned though through experience at Bayreuth and successive posts in Barcelona (repetiteur at the Liceo) music director of the Oslo opera and La monnaie in Brussels.

The culmination, in many senses of Pappano’s musical apprenticeship is best told across the end of Part I by Daniel Barenboim: all credit to him for suggesting Pappano maintain his piano playing and interest in chamber music. In Part II others who have worked closely with Pappano over a number of years contribute: Peter Wiggins, his manager; Bernard Foccroulle, intendant of La monnaie; Sir Colin Southgate, Royal Opera House Covent Garden; and Willy Decker, director. Amiability, is the main characteristic that comes across, as is obvious professional respect. However, if only some note of criticism, or even mild questioning on occasion, was present too. If the tone verges on the reverential, Pappano’s own contributions counter this and hint at his own ambition in the field of symphonic repertoire with his Rome-based Santa Cecilia orchestra. Along the way we get a clear picture also of Pappano’s love affair with the recording studio.

Pappano’s real love though, we learn, is with the theatre, and it was through working with Inga Nielsen and Robert Hale that he became a conductor. Rarely, probably, have singers encouraged a young repetiteur to conduct, but they obviously identified something in his musical sensibilities that made him right for the opera pit.

Again, energy and ruthlessness are qualities that come out, but never – we are told – at the expense of music or drama. Musicians that play under Pappano try to unravel the mystery of what makes a great conductor, yet in my estimation I feel that no one will ever be able to do this. But they do succeed in saying what makes Pappano an interesting ringmaster for their professional lives.

I suspect, however, that the compliments Pappano might set most store by are those in Part IV: from singers.

From José van Dam, who reigned as La Monnaie’s baritone in chief during Pappano’s tenure, to Domingo, via Thomas Hampson, Dale Duesing, Roberto Alagna, Barbara Bonney and Susan Chilcott. All attest that he is a singer’s conductor or pianist. As a listener, however, I find it hard to agree with the universal praise his conducting of Wagner in particular receives, but then such things are largely a question of taste.

The final part turns the direction of the volume around as Pappano imparts to Maeckelbergh his thoughts on some of his favourite operas: Ariadne auf Naxos, Wozzeck, Falstaff, Don Giovanni, La Boheme, Lohengrin and Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk among them. Interweaved amongst Pappano’s thoughts are those of many of his leading singers for particular productions. Susan Chilcott remains a singer he misses greatly, and her inclusion is touching.

The CD inserted in the back cover has a generous playing time of 77 minutes and provides a fairly rounded musical portrait to accompany Maeckelbergh’s book. Its 21 tracks offer samples from his EMI studio recordings of Massenet’s Werther and Manon, Puccini’s La rondine, La Boheme, Tosca, Suor Angelica and Messa di Gloria, Verdi’s Don Carlos and Il trovatore, Wagner’s Tristan, Boesmans’ Wintermärchen and Wolf’s Ganymed with Bostridge.

The volume is generously illustrated, allowing it to grace the coffee tables of any Covent Garden habitué with ease. That the prose style is laid back and concisely constructed by Maeckelbergh makes it a most untaxing read which can easily be dipped into at will. Overall, the book can be recommended as a solid introduction to a conductor who ultimately engages and sustains one’s interest by the strength of his personality.