title: Eberl vs Beethoven. History made its choice, and made no mistake

text:
Just imagine the bill. April 7, 1805, a grand concert at the Theater an der Wien, the opera house run by the famous Viennese impresario Emanuel Schickaneder (also known for writing the libretto to and staging Mozart's Magic Flute), with two important premieres: Anton Eberl's Symphony in E flat major op. 33, and Ludwig Van Beethoven's Third Symphony. They are arguably the two most famous composers of Vienna. Born in 1765 in the very city, Eberl was a protégé of Mozart - to the point that some of his compositions have been published under Mozart's name, even in Mozart's lifetime, without the latter protesting, until Eberl himself took action (after Mozart's death) and claimed due authorship, publishing the follwing note in a Viennese newspaper in 1798: ""However flattering it may be that even connoisseurs were capable of judging these works to be the products of Mozart, I can in no way allow the musical public to be left under this delusion." He spent a few years at the tsarist court of St Petersburg, giving there the Russian premiere of Haydn's Creation, returned to Vienna in 1803, and has been highly successful with the local audiences since.

The slightly younger German composer Ludwig van Beethoven, aged 33, is a Viennese by adoption, having been established in the city since he was 21, in 1792. He's already premiered at the same venue his second Symphony, two years ago, on April 5, 1803, in a program which also saw the premieres of his oratorio Christ on the Mount of Olives and his third Piano concerto, with himself as a soloist, and a new performance of the first Symphony; the latter had been premiered in 1800 at the K.K. Hoftheatre nächst der Burg (near the castle), along with the composer's Septet and second Piano Concerto, a concert that established the composer's fame in Vienna.

This is what a critic had to say about the two, in 1803:

"In writing for keyboard, Beethoven and Anton Eberl are certainly today the strongest. Both have originality, fire and power; both overflow with ideas, and the works of both are relatively difficult to execute, but are also certainly worth the effort. Beethoven, it seems to me, has much in common with the famous poet Jean Paul. Both are remarkable for their great genius, but also for those idiosyncracies and bizarre aspects that one must forgive with geniuses. Eberl's powers are concerned more with the whole than with the individual parts. With lively and fiery colors, as in the paintings of Klinger, with big strokes, he exposes powerful shapes before our soul, shapes that seize us with wonderful might, even when occasionally too much untamed force is visible."

A concert not to be missed.

Well, after the event, some critics were puzzled with Beethoven's new work. "Too much that is garish and bizarre, as a result of which the overall view is made extremely difficult and the unity goes almost lost". But they were raving about Eberl's Symphony: it contains "so much beauty and force and his handled with so much genius and art, that its effect will not be missed when one has studied it in-depth."

Does all this wet your appetite? It sure did mine. The historical significance of these symphonies of Eberl cannot be exaggerated, and Concerto Köln must be praised for unearthing those three compositions. The Symphony in C-major is a youthful work, from when Eberl was still studying with Mozart, and the manuscript even contains corrections in Mozart's hand. Symphony op. 33 is precisely the one that was played at that famous 1805 concert. Symphony op. 34 is not dated but cannot have been written much later, since Eberl suddenly died from blood poisoning in March 1807, after a highly successful concert tour of Germany.

But historical significance is one thing. What about musical value? Now comes the sobering view.

This is enjoyable music, very lively and carefree in a style derived from Mozart's last symphonies in the youthful C major symphony (its first movement evokes the opening theme of Mozart's Haffner symphony - no wonder it was long held to be by Mozart). The middle movements and the lyrical second themes of the opening allegros are charming and inconsequential, written in a "galant" style typical of the final days of the "ancient regime" (the middle movement from the youthful symphony bears its character indication well: "andante grazioso"). There is not much weight in the "andante sostenuto" introduction of op. 33 - more the sound world of Mozart's Magic Flute than anything written by Beethoven.

There is more "Sturm und Drang" agitation in the later symphonies, alongside with, again, episodes that smack of the "galant", but also a search for formal originality, already apparent in op. 33 with its quasi-funeral march second movement turning, after 3:45 minutes, into a menuetto of sorts (Schubert's more insouciant twists fleetingly come to mind), with the actual Menuetto being a brisk "allegro vivace" scherzo with two contrasting trios, the first irresistibly evoking Rossini. The search for formal originality goes still further in op. 34 (Eberl's own "bizarrerie"), with a merry and jaunty march interspersed between the first movement's introduction and its development. The liner notes give a good depiction of that march's atmosphere: "one can almost see the orders and medals glittering and flashing with Viennese charm and a certain pride". Bang on.

All this is appealing. But to attempt to put the symphonies in the same league with Beethoven's, or even Schubert's, is tantamount to overkill. Just compare the second movement of op. 33 with Beethoven's Funeral march. It is the amiable dabbler in composition against the immense and breathtaking genius.

Rather, Eberl can be compared with all those valuable but minor composers of the era that Concerto Köln has made a specialty of: Kraus ([[ASIN:B002JP9HOY Joseph Martin Kraus: Symphonies]], [[ASIN:B000001WPN Joseph Martin Kraus: Sinfonien, Vol. 2]]), Myslivecek ([[ASIN:B000JFZ9FC Il Divino Boemo: Josef Myslivecek Symphonies]]), Stamitz ([[ASIN:B000031WWG Mannheim: The Golden Age (Works by Christian Cannabich / Carl Stamitz / Anton Fils / Johann Stamitz / Ignaz Fränzl) - Concerto Köln]]), Rosetti ([[ASIN:B000000SR6 Rosetti: Symphonies (Volume 1) /Concerto Koln]], [[ASIN:B00000JHIG Antonio Rosetti: Symphonies, Volume 2 - Concerto Köln]]), Vanhal ([[ASIN:B0012GSKAI Vanhal: 5 Symphonies - d1, g1, C11, a2, e1]]). And that's good and enjoyable enough. That the critics of the day prefered Eberl's composition (and let's not over-simplify: some hailed Beethoven's new work as his and a masterpiece) only shows that it is always easier to recognize what you already know, and that true novelty is difficult to take in: a lesson still valid for today.

Besides their appeal (better enjoyed if you take them on their own merits and not as anything that could even remotely rival Beethoven), the symphonies are useful for establishing what it is that makes the incomparable genius of Beethoven: its tremendous power and energy (even in the first two symphonies), its breadth and scope, the fact that his "slow" movements, even in the first two symphonies, or his "second themes" in the first movements, may have much charm but are NEVER written in galant style; Beethoven wears no whig and silk stockings, and his nails aren't manicured. And, more fundamentally still, his whole compositional process, based on small, obsessive melodic/rhythmic cells that are obsessively developed.


title: Another entry

text: Another entry for [[ASIN:B00000E6AL Violin Concerto (Op 61), Piano Concerto No. 3 (Op 37)]]. See my detailed review thereunder. You'll find the same recordings also under RCA's next reissue, volume 41 of their Arturo Toscanini Collection, [[ASIN:B000003EWT Violin & Piano Concertos]]. These are brisk, muscular readings - expected of Heifetz, but not necessarily of Rubinstein -, but also very lyrical, if you know how to listen.


title: Einaudi's first CD - entertaining, if somewhat inconsequential. Will appeal to amateurs of cross-over

text:
Seeing the number of entries that show up on the present website when you type his name in the search box, Ludovico Einaudi seems to have made quite a career, at least on disc. Other than the present CD, he is unknown quantity for me, and I would probably never have approached him if it hadn't been for his inclusion in this interesting collection of Italian contemporary composers from Italy's main music publisher, Ricordi (see, so far, my reviews of [[ASIN:B002HIBLRO Luca Francesconi: Per Orchestra 1982-1991]], [[ASIN:B0002F7RYK Folk Songs: Olivero, Mascagni, Galante, Krauze, Savona, Sciarrino, Ambrosini, Petrov, Francesconi, Stuppner, Zimmermann (From Festival Musica '900 a Trento)]] and [[ASIN:B000WY0BSU Azio Corghi - Mazapegul - Balletto per Ottetto Vocale e Oboe (Dischi Ricordi)]]).

Judging from the music and before any research on the famous people's-processed Internet encyclopedia, Einaudi appears to be a cross-over composer in the manner of the German Heiner Goebbels, with grounding into classical-contemporary music (there is very sophisticated instrumental writing; witness the various flute techniques used in track 7) but an aesthetic inspired by contemporary rock, jazz and new music, and with some influences from Robert Ashley as well. The beginning is typical Ashley, a text (in genuine American) that, if it wasn't ascribed to an Andrea di Carlo, you'd think came from Paul Auster's City of Glass, spoken (not sung) by a chorus of four American actors, recorded from close-up, over a fast ticking of clocks and a few new-age keyboard chords (the spoken text returns in the penultimate track). What ensues is purely instrumental, mixing (apparently? But it isn't indicated in the booklet) samplers and acoustic instruments, straddling the border between contemporary, contemporary rock and jazz, new music. Tracks 2, 9, 10 and the two finales (tracks 14 and 16), very rhythmical and syncopated and, except in track 2, rock drums, draw their inspiration from progressive rock (integral with electric guitar in 10) and at times even both feet in; some sound like typical Goebbels. Track 3 may evoke the kind of dance music explored by the British minimalists like Steve Martland, and track 8 (various keyboards) may recall in some aspects the American minimalism of Riley and Reich, although it is not consistently repetitive. Track 5 is the kind of wistful improvisation for piano (with what seems to be sampler-produced resonance) an saxophone that you'll find in, say, Keith Jarrett or any contemporary jazz disc, and likewise in the dynamic track 6 (distant sax and various keyboards), or the end of track 8 (piano and punctuations from various acoustic instruments and samplers). AND track 11, a slow, brooding, almost ritualistic melisma played by bass clarinet over a hushed drone, sounds like contemporary music, the kind Pärt or Gorecki or Tavener might have written. Track 12 is an enigmatic concert of soft tintinnabulations with some violent outbursts, somewhat reminiscent of "musique concrete", and one of the most atmospheric tracks on the disc. Too bad in segues into one of those corny, sentimental jazzy piano impros (track 13) All this is entertaining but somewhat inconsequential. The composition, titled "Time Out" purports to be an exploration of "some of the infinite variations of time, following the rhythms of the universe", but it is not something you really hear, other than the fact that it unfolds in time with some strong rhythmic signatures - that's also the case of any Beeethoven symphony. The titles of the individual and contrasted movements (there are 16 in all) relate to pacing and tempo: the customary adagio, presto, lento, moderato, but also rapido, immobile, implacabilie, calmo - no need for a translation, I believe.

The disc was originally published in 1988. Ricordi confused things a lot when they reissued their collection in the late 1990s, with a different presentation. Apparently they chose NOT to reissue everything from the old series in the new one and let some lapse (or be reissued elsewhere), and this Einaudi was part of the casualties. But they stupidly reascribed its label number, CRMCD 1011, to a Francesconi disc (which apparently is listed neither here nor on the European sister companies).

Now I'll search on the encyclopedia.

Well, there you have it:

"Born in Turin, Italy, Einaudi's mother played to him on the piano as a child. He began his musical training at the Conservatorio Verdi in Milan, gaining a diploma in composition in 1982. That same year, he studied with Luciano Berio and gained a scholarship to the Tanglewood Music Festival.

After studying at the Conservatory in Milan, and subsequently with Berio, he spent several years composing in traditional forms. In the mid-1980s he began to search for a more personal expression in a series of works for dance and multimedia, and later for piano. His music is ambient, meditative and often introspective, drawing on minimalism, world music, and contemporary pop. He has made a significant impact in the film world, with four international awards to his name." Time Out is listed as his first CD, so this must be a collector's icon I have in my possession, but I personally don't feel any urge to explore the next ones. However, amateurs of that kind of cross-over ought to enjoy it (if they can find it).


title: A superb Eroica from 1959

text:
Lovro von Matacic's Eroica was recorded with the Czech Philharmonic in 1959 and, despite the conductor's relative obscurity (not very well represented on record, never championed by a major label despite a few notable stints with HMV/EMI; and I'm not even aware that he enjoys a cult status like some other relatively obscure conductors), it has always remained in the catalog in a form or another. I don't have this particular release but an earlier one, on a budget collection from Supraphon where it was paired with the Choral Fantasy ([[ASIN:B000VAJY8I Beethoven Symphony No. 3, Eroica/Choral Fantasia for Piano, Chorus, and Orchestra [Import]]]), so I can't comment on the sonics of the present disc nor on its filler - The Overture of Leonore 3 conducted by Karel Ancerl.

Anyway, Matacic's Eroica is indeed a very fine reading, not one that will jar you out of your listening habits perhaps, but one that realizes its given interpretive choices superbly. The choice of tempo in the first movement is unremarkable, very middle-of-the-road - neither extremely slow like Furtwängler (1952), Klemperer (1959), Barbirolli (1967) or even Walter (1958), nor extremely brisk like Scherchen (1958) or Norrington (1990) or simply brisk like Leibowitz (1961), Toscanini (1949) or Bernstein (1964), but more into the same playing field as Szell (1957). But what makes this version a very exciting one (and one that sounds faster than it really is) can be heard from the first two chords: its muscle and bite. Those two introductory chords explode with great power and incisiveness, and thereafter Matacic shows admirable care for Beethoven's myriad sf and fp accents and staccato marks: again, they are always biting and incisive. What further makes his reading an exciting and dynamic one is that, although Matacic relaxes as he should in the more lyrical moments, he never takes them as an excuse to linger: he moves on. The 1959 recording also lets you hear with admirable clarity (but without any gaudy spotlighting) many instrumental details that are usually covered, like the horns and timpani, adding to the overall impact and the power, violence even, of the climaxes. Despite the slower tempo, this is the kind of bite that you would expect of Toscanini, and whose absence ruins Szell's first movement. My only complaint then is that the first movement repeat is not taken. Matacis's Marcia Funebre is one of those slow ones, very funeral indeed in atmosphere, though not as extreme as Barbirolli's and not quite even as Furtwängler's, Klemperer's or Karajan's (1963). This is not a conception in which you will find the rage and anger of a Toscanini or Scherchen, but the minore section develops to gripping dramatic intensity (like Walter and Furtwängler, Matacic presses on significantly). The flutes throughout are covered by the strings more than I would have wanted to, even when they are not doubling them, but maybe that was a choice of Matacic rather than a failure of the sound engineering; it darkens and dulles the textures.

On the other hand, the Scherzo is one of those very brisk ones, spot on Beethoven's metronomic tempo - like Scherchen, Szell, Norrington, Karajan, Munch (1957), Barbirolli (Toscanini and Leibowtiz are slightly faster) and it is also crisp in its articulation and powerful in its outbursts. Matacic commendably maintains the brisk tempo in the the trio, and the "hunting" horns play with character, vigor and snap. He launches into the finale with superb drive, and the theme and first variations are sung briskly and muscularly, like (again) Toscanini, Leibowitz, Bernstein or Szell. The poco andante section is taken at the usual, deliberate tempo (Beethoven's metronome here is shockingly brisk) and the brass fanfare at 8:12 is suitably grandiose. It is all topped off by an uplifting coda.

Matacic's Eroica deserves to be heard. Not that it will teach you anything you haven't heard before, as my numerous references indicate, but it is a very exciting rendition nonetheless, and one I could very well live with if (God forbids!) I had to live with only one Eroica. Too bad Matacic wasn't asked by Supraphon to record a complete set of the symphonies. That was entrusted instead to Paul Kletzki ([[ASIN:B00004TQXZ Symphonies 1-3: Egmont: Incidental Music And]], [[ASIN:B00004TQY0 Symphonies 4-6: Coriolan Overture]] and [[ASIN:B00004TQY1 Symphonies 7-9 [Import]]]), and I'm not convinced we and Supraphon were better off.


title: a semi-trailer truck rather than an IndyCar: slow drive but massive power

text:
Klemperer's 5th and 8th are everything you expect of him: BIG, deliberate, grand, massive, short on the kind of explosive and raging drive that Toscanini ([[ASIN:B00000F1BQ Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 5-8]]) and even more Scherchen ([[ASIN:B002C8BR00 Beethoven: Complete Symphonies, Vol. 2, Symphonies Nos. 5-8]]) brought to it, but nonetheless powerful and impressive in its own right. The first movement of the 5th moves at a very pedestrian pace, but HMV's superb 1957 sonics, the sheer impact of the orchestral sound and Klemper's ability to keep the articulation snappy lends it great power. And mind you, Klemperer is not just about mass, he knows how to subtly shade the dynamics when needed, and never more cleverly than at 4:13 where he applies an (unprescribed) string diminuendo to let the woodwind figurations (here covered in most performances) come out very clearly. As is his wont, he turns the "andante con moto" into a real "slow" movement  - which in Beethoven's classically-inspired conception it isn't -, making some passages sound even processional (try at 7:34). While I don't find it as exciting as when played at Beethoven's tempo, it is also quite convincing in its own way, and again Klemperer plays the tutti with grandeur and majesty: it sounds like music for king Louis the 14th, or like Beecham's Haendel. Again the pedestrian tempo Klemperer adopts for the third movement is startlingly far removed from the one intended by Beethoven - circa 72 dotted half-notes/mn to the composer's 96 - and naturally it changes entirely the character of the music; but the character conveyed by Klemperer's tempo and orchestral balances is quite taking: power and majesty in the tutti,  gruff vigor in the central fugato, bonhomie in the woodwind figurations at 4:10 and after, and an atmosphere of pent-up menace in the pianissimo cellos and double-basses, heightened by the sense of stasis of the long-held (at that tempo!) string chord with tolling timps at 5:25 before the eruption of the finale. Finale which, at Klemperer's VERY deliberate tempo, is heavy, grand and majestic - and made even more so by the fact that Klemperer takes the repeat. Mass rather than drive. Impressive more than exciting.

The same kind of approach, deliberate, massive but full of energy, lends great drama to the first movement of the 8th - Klemperer makes it clearly the missing link between the 7th and 9th rather than a late offshoot of the 1st and 2nd . He may be expansive (this is playing in the same league with Szell, [[ASIN:B000002769 Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 3-'Eroica', & 8]] and Walter, [[ASIN:B000002A7P Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 3 "Eroica" & 8]]), although never AS deliberate as you might have expected from him; more important still (and unlike Furtwängler I'm afraid, at even slower tempos, [[ASIN:B000005GOH Beethoven: Symphonies 6 & 8]]), the energy and power dispell any impression of sluggishness. Despite the deliberate tempo, the piquant woodwind staccato conveys the humor of the second movement. Klemperer's Tempo di Menuetto sounds like the clumsy dance of a circus bear - it has character, although not the one I found best suited for this movement. But Szell and Walter (to say nothing, again, of Furtwängler) are here significantly slower. The finale again moves at a deliberate tempo, miles per hour away from Scherchen, Leibowitz ([[ASIN:B000003GDJ Beethoven: Symphonies 6 & 8]]) or Leinsdorf ([[ASIN:B00000E6KI Symphonies 1 & 8]]). Klemperer's approach (here only Walter is marginally slower) doesn't come near their bubbling and explosive exuberance, but again it isn't devoid of power and passion, and Klemperer keeps the articulation commendably snappy.

These are certainly not versions I'd want to have if I had only one in my collection, as they give a far too slanted and idiosyncratic view of Beethoven, and one that doesn't do justice to some aspects that to me are essential with this composer: the youthful ebullience, the explosive drive. But Klemperer definitely has a place in my collection as a superb realization (both sonically and interpretively) of an extremist, if not outlandish approach, balancing the scale, so to speak, with, say, Scherchen on the other pan (with the proviso that Scherchen's speeds may sound "extremist" to us but they are truer to Beethoven's tempo indications in his scores).

And not that I'd want many "middle-of-the-road", "no nosense" versions to complete this overview. If your Beethoven isn't going to be "extremist" in one way or another, what's the point?


title: Scherchen's Beethoven won't be most people's Beethoven - yet this is, in all likelihood, Beethoven's Beethoven

text:
Hermann Scherchen was the echt- and arch-radical. Based on these recordings of Beethoven's Symphonies 1, 3, 6 and 8, made between 1954 and 1958 and originally published on Westminster, he had a unique way with this composer as well. There had been Toscanini and others, but this is far more radical, and way ahead of its time - only with Norrington's "historically-informed performances" did I encounter such radical readings ([[ASIN:B000002RRB Symphonies 1-9]]), Leibowitz's pioneering cycle from 1961 included.

The reissues of Scherchen's Westminster cycle on CD are a tricky affair. He recorded the complete cycle between 1951 and 1954 with the Vienna State Opera Orchestra (1, 3, 6, 7, 9) and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (dubbed for contractual reasons the "Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra of London": 2, 4, 5, 8). He rerecorded 3 and 6 in stereo in 1958 with the VSOO, and, along with the 1954/RPO recordings of 1 & 8, it is those stereo remakes you get here, in this MCA release from 1988. It is the same that were reissued, in refurbished sound, by DG when they took over the Westminster catalog: [[ASIN:B00005OLDP Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 3 & 6]]. The complete Westminister cycle was reissued by Universal Japan under the Westminster label, but those discs were not circulated in the West (I have 4+5, 1+the 1953 Eroica, and 9). Recently, Tahra published a complete set with the earlier version of the 6th - but NOT the 1953 Eroica: they used instead a previous recording from 1951, made for the label Ultraphon with the Vienna Symphony Orchestra ([[ASIN:B002C8BQZQ Beethoven: Complete Symphonies Vol. 1; Symphonies Nos. 1- 4]], [[ASIN:B002C8BR00 Beethoven: Complete Symphonies, Vol. 2, Symphonies Nos. 5-8]], [[ASIN:B002C8BR0A Beethoven: Complete Symphonies, vol. 3 : Symphony No. 9]]). Note also that the MCA discs under review came in the enjoyable "twofer" collection (I need to do a listmania of that some day), which had two companion CDs not in a multi-CD jewel case but in two different, standard jewel cases, which made it easy to sever them from each other. Hence, many are sold on this website separated from their legimitate companion, which might be the case with this entry, so make sure to check with the seller before you commit. You will find the companion under [[ASIN:B00000DWBD Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 6 "Pastorale" & Symphony No. 8]], and there's also a listing for the complete set under [[ASIN:B000K6RTR6 Herman Scherchen. Beethoven Symphony 1 3 6 8 Vienna State Opera Orchestra]]. That said, with the Tahra reissues and the DG/Westminster 3 and 6 in much improved sound (the MCA is more than acceptable but suffers small, occasional drop outs, and the DG/Westminster reissue has done wonders in removing a lot of tape hiss and giving the orchestra a fine tonal bloom), these MCA discs aren't as indispensable as they were (if you can find the DG/Westminster at an affordable price!); but they were those I cherished for years.

It is good that MCA decided for the two stero remakes of the Eroica and Pastorale, and not just for sonic reasons. They are far more radical. These readings will shock. The first movement of the Eroica (with repeat) is the fastest I've encountered before Norrington. The first movement of the Pastorale is not an "awakening of happy feelings upon arrival in the country side", it's an explosion of joy, a bacchanal of joy, the suburban kids seeing the ocean for the first time in their lives. Scherchen's brook isn't the stagnant pond made out by many slower readings - it really flows, it's not a brook, it's a stream, maybe a small cascade.

All this will no doubt seem impossibly fast to those nurtured on another tradition, but in fact, Scherchen takes those movements exactly at (first movement of the Pastorale) or almost at Beethoven's controversial metronome marks (a little slower or a little faster) and - unlike Toscanini, but like Norrington - never relents. As hinted, in the first two movements of the Pastorale I find it jarring maybe, but ultimately uplifting. In the Eroica it is not entirely convincing, if only because Vienna State Opera Orchestra is obviously not a virtuoso ensemble, and THEY certainly feel hard-pressed, at times scrambling to keep together and at times lacking the lilt so typical of the rapid 3/4 time signature (Norrington is much more dance-like here), but there's no denying the high-octane energy and excitement Scherchen generates. His funeral march on the other hand I find an extraordinary experience. He sets off at a brisk tempo, that again will shock those raised on Furtwängler and old Klemperer, but still slower than Beethoven's metronome mark (circa 70 to Beethoven's 80 - for the metronomic tempo go to Norrington), although he does accelerate to Beethoven's tempo and faster in the climactic "Minore" section. The result of this faster tempo, added to Scherchen's sharp accenting and care for instrumental detail, is, I find, illuminating: you never get the sense that it is "fast", but it conveys gripping drama and also a real sense of a march. These days when our beloved ones are conveyed to their last repose in big limos, many conductors (or shall I say drivers?) seem to have forgotten what exactly is a funeral MARCH: they smoothen it out. Not Scherchen. For the first time I felt that the fugato in the "Minore" section at 6:23 (where Scherchen accelerates to a phenomenal 92 eighth-notes/mn) sounded just right, grippingly intense and angst-ridden, rather than like an overblown Bach arrangement by Stokowski. And for those who like their Beethoven to be turned to the future and not the past and a harbinger of things to come, never have the funeral bass triplets sounded to me more evocative of the march that opens Mahler's Fifth Symphony, and of Mahler's 2nd Symphony when they invade the full string section, underpinning ferocious brass utterances at 8:30.

Scherchen takes the scherzo (I'm still in the Eroica) at a slightly faster tempo than Beethoven's metronome (and the same as Szell) and invests it with great power (the first ff erupts at 0:46, brass with all bells up, to exhilarating effect) and instrumental pungency. It is in the finale that I find Scherchen's approach the most disputable. He hurls into the first bars with headlong fury, and it is very impressive, but from there he never relents: it takes him 5:27 to get through the first, "allegro molto" section, compared to Toscanini's 6:17, and Furtwängler's... 7:11. This is certainly a one-sided view of the music, hard-driven, suffocating even, with no time for breathing or supple dancing. If it were a dance it would be a dance of the elves on a bacchanale (another one!), but here the elves are gone berserk. But again there is no denying the high-strung excitement it generates. AND - Scherchen is still slower than Beethoven's metronome (circa 72 to Beethoven's 76 half-notes/mn, although he does reach and overpass the mark in the fugato section starting at 2:20). And kudos to all the performers. The blowers must have been on cocaine. By contrast the penultimate section, "poco andante", starting at 5:27 (and here Scherchen is very much a traditionalist, with a quarter-note at circa 80 instead of Beethoven's 108 - compare with Furtwängler's 66, Walter and Bernstein's 68-9 and Toscanini's 73), develops to a grandiose climax (mighty brass), and the "presto" coda should be played in hospitals: it would lift a paralytic out of his wheelchair.

Scherchen's 8th is one of the most incredible performances I've ever heard, especially in the outer movements, taken at breathtaking speeds and with furious, even raging energy, and filled with a sparkling, explosive exuberance. I've never heard quite anything like it, certainly not before 1954, and not since either, and it is uplifting. Toscanini (in his "official", 1952 recording) sounds civilized and mellow in comparison - contrary to his reputation his tempos are here in fact well within established tradition: just compare his 9:34 to Scherchen's 8:20 in the first movement (yes, Scherchen DOES take the repeat) and their respective 7:27 and 6:22 in the finale. Even Norrington here sounds more relaxed, taking these outer movements in 8:42 and 7:00. René Leibowitz's illuminating cycle from 1961 with modern orchestra (the superlative RPO) was always taken at brisk tempos and his are versions I always come back to as yardsticks ([[ASIN:B000003GDJ Beethoven: Symphonies 6 & 8]]). There is something of Scherchen's exuberance and explosiveness - but it is not quite as radical and furious.

Yes, I can associate this kind of headlong fury with Beethoven, much more than the mellower approaches favored by a certain tradition, whatever the latter's musical merits may be. And note that, however suffocating those tempos may seem, they remain significantly UNDER Beethoven's jawdropping metronome marks: Scherchen is at 56-57 (dotted half-notes/mn) in the first movement to Beethoven's 66, and at 80 to Beethoven's 84 in the finale - that's close enough. The allegretto scherzando marches at a brisk tempo - close enough again to Beethoven's metronome mark although slightly under - and with marvellous vigor. The Tempo di Menuetto has great sweep and robust accenting, although the trumpets don't have the infectious military glare that Bernstein (his first recording, with New York) or Norrington bring to it. The RPO is a winner throughout, playing with great beef.

Given Scherchen's very strict approach to Beethoven's metronome, one is surprised to find instances where he doesn't do so, and conspicuously strays from them. Although recorded at the same time as the Eighth, his First Symphony is very classical and middle-of-the-road. His tempos are unhurried, always slower than Beethoven's metronome marks, and hence I find that his reading lacks the element of dynamism and exuberance that makes the interpretations featured here so unique, illuminating and ultimately indispensable. It is just a good, middle-of-the-road First that doesn't stand out in any way and whose distant mono sound makes it a non runner. In fact I don't understand how the same recording sessions could have yielded such a unique 8th and such a bland 1st. Likewise in the scherzo from the 6th (the Merry Gathering). Scherchen's opening tempo is similar to Walter's, circa 88 dotted half-notes a minute, and a far cry from Beethoven's zipping 108, while his central allegro is a precipitous 147 quarter notes, to Beethoven's 132. Walter here is also faster (138) but he has the orchestra play with uplifting vigor; Scherchen's Vienna Opera Orchestra here sounds ragged and undisciplined, and this is the least satisfying movement in his Pastorale. Surprisingly, his ensuing storm is also disappointing: not so much a matter of tempo (he is sligthly faster than Beethoven's, which is fine in principle, as it lends it greater urgency) as of the lack of snap and explosiveness of his brass, and it comes nowhere near the terrifying violence of Leibowitz. But his finale flows nicely, bang at Beethoven's tempo (and, inexplicably, his brass truly ring again), lending it a great sense of exultant joy, and Scherchen never lets it sag into a gently lulling sway that the ternary rhythms can so easily and surrepticiously bring about.

Anyway, at Scherchen's most radical, everybody, and especially Beethoven-lovers raised on the traditions of Bruno Walter and Furtwängler, no doubt will be shocked, and might even resent it. But, like it or not (and believe it or not), this is not just Scherchen's Beethoven: it is Beethoven's Beethoven. I refer you to my review of Leibowitz' Pastorale and Symphony No. 8 (link above) where, based on Rudolf Kolisch's seminal essay on "tempo and character in the music of Beethoven" (itself based on Beethoven's own writings), I point out the importance that Beethoven ascribed to of a strict observance of his metronome tempos.

"I consider the invention of the metronome a welcome means of assuring that the performance of my compositions everywhere will be in the tempi that I conceived, which to my regret have so often been misunderstood."

Indeed they have, and it didn't stop with the invention of the metronome. Other approaches are perfectly valid and illuminating, and nobody would want to be without Furtwängler's or Klemperer's or Barbirolli's Beethoven. The composer's view is only the first view, not the last and not the ultimate. Still, any serious Beethovenian owes it to himself no listen to Scherchen - not just casually listen and contemptuously dismiss it: listen intently, return regularly to it, let it sink in and break through the patina of your old listening habits (patina: painting conservators call it "dirt"), and reach back to what is, arguably, Beethoven's Beethoven.


title: Brilliant Ferras - another entry

text:
This is another entry for the 2009 Brilliant 4-CD box reissuing DG-originated recordings of Christian Ferras. For details and track listings go to my review on this other entry, [[ASIN:B001VO7O1C Ferras, Christian: Brahms, Schumann, Franck]]. Three discs out of four collate the sonata recordings made by Ferras with his longstanding partner Pierre Barbizet, in 1965 and 1968: the three Brahms, the two Schumann plus the three Romances opus 94, Franck and Lekeu. These had been reissued by DG on their "DG Double" series, now increasingly difficult to find: [[ASIN:B00004UUGJ Ferras-Sonates Romantiques [Import]]], with Schumann's 2nd on the companion disc [[ASIN:B000001GJJ Great Violin Concertos]], which has the concertos of Beethoven, Brahms and Sibelius conducted by Karajan. To those the Brilliant set adds a Brahms Scherzo from the collaborative FAE Sonata, whose origins I don't know (and can't check, since I have the original DG publications and not the Brilliant reissue): it is not on the previous DG reissues, apparently it is a first-time release (a supposition confirmed by the online discography of the French Christian Ferras Association), presumably an unpublished take from DG's vaults.

CD 4 is a recital of encores made again for DG in 1968 with pianist Jean-Claude Ambrosini. See my review of the original DG CD-reissue for details on that one, [[ASIN:B00000E2UR Romantic Violin Music]].


title: An apotheosis of dance

text:
Is Leibowitz' Schubert 9th "radical"? Only to ears enslaved to a certain tradition.

Through his cult Beethoven Symphony cycle (reissued both by Chesky in the US and by the Swiss label Menuet in Europe), René Leibowitz has the reputation of having applied a radical approach to the romantic repertoire - and to a large extent, he did, at least on the background of the "teutonic" performing traditions that were prevalent in the sixties. He revisited all matters of tempo and character in Beethoven in the light of Rudolf Kolish's seminal essay on the matter. Not that this kind of "fast and fiery" approach to Beethoven was entirely novel: Scherchen had done the same, even more radically, ten years earlier, and Toscanini wasn't that far. But Leibowitz came in great stereo sound, and he was a trail-blazer for many of the period-instrument conductors of the early 1980s, first and foremost Roger Norrington.

With that kind approach now become the new established tradition, and embraced even by "traditional" but historically-informed conductors like Abbado, Mackerras (both remarkable in that they radically changed their view from their first to their second cycle of recordings), Rattle and Zinman, Leibowitz is much less "shocking" than he used to be. Likewise with his Schubert 9th. No "divine longueurs" here - helped also by the fact that Leibowitz plays no repeats in the outer movements - but a Mendelssohnian lightness of touch and an exhilarating forward drive throughout. Again Leibowitz may not be true to a certain teutonic tradition and will shock those accustomed to Schubert's 9th sounding like an anticipation of Bruckner's 9th, but he is true to the score's tempo indications - with the provision that, passed the "andante" introduction, his first movement sounds "allegro" indeed but not so much "non troppo". Still it is irresistible and feels (to me) entirely natural and organic. And look at the tempo indications in the other movements: Schubert's "slow" movement is inscribed "andante con moto" (from the Italian "andare", to go, "con moto", with motion); the notion that a second movement should be "slow" is a later one, artificially "retro-imposed" by romantic interpreters on composers that are on the cusp of classicism and romanticism, and particularly Beethoven and Schubert; witness the second movement of Beethoven's 1st Symphony, "andante cantabile con moto" with its mind-boggling metronome mark of 120 eighth-notes/mn: Furtwangler, Walter and even Szell take it anywhere between 80 and 90, even Scherchen and Leibowitz - no radicals here - move at circa 100, and Norrington bravely attempts a 116. I also mentioned the "andante" introduction to the first movement, which Leibowitz takes in a flowing tempo and with well-accented phrasings, true to the music's march-like character; hearing Walter's 1946 New York recording right after Leibowitz (I have it on a Lys reissue, LYS 509, paired with Walter's Philadelphia 1947 8th, [[ASIN:B00003E49Z Schubert: Symphonies Nos 8 & 9 (Import)]]) is startling: Walter sounds plangent and slumbering. As for Schubert's Scherzo and Finale, they are both marked "allegro vivace": how faster can you get? And brisk again is indeed what you get with Leibowitz.

We have (and I share) this notion of "late" Schubert (but how "late" are you at 30 years old!) sensing impending death and writing works that are cries of anger and revolt ("Death and the Maiden" quartet) and/or songs of despair and acceptance (15th Quartet, C-major quintet, Unfinished Symphony, Winterreise), and this view informs the way we approach and "interpret" the notes. There is none of that in Leibowitz' 9th. His 9th is the composition of a 30-year old youth, full of bubbling energy. I hadn't returned to Schubert's 9th in some years, so my ears aren't encumbered with any specific listening habits, and I find that Leibowitz's reading not only is entirely true and germane to what I see in the score, but furthermore elicits a constant and uplifting sense of dynamism and exuberance, all crowned by a finale that is veritably an irresistible apotheosis of dance.

Great sound, with clear and transparent textures. Common wisdom is that, in the Beethoven cycle, Chesky's reissues are sonically much better than Menuet's. I have both sets and I don't find that this is true. Anyway, there is no such choice here: Menuet's was the only CD reissue of this Schubert. The only drawbacks I see to this disc is the short TT of 44:43... and, with Menuet long-gone and its Leibowitz CDs probably ferociously hoarded by collectors like myself, the price now demanded for it by the Internet vultures.


title: Seraphs, Cherubs, Thrones, Dominations, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels and Angels singing in Catholic England

text:
In the upheavals wreaked by the English Reformation triggered by King Henry VIII's rejection of Roman Catholicism, most of the Latin liturgical and devotional music hitherto composed was violently destroyed, often with the institutions and buildings that harbored the manuscripts that contained it, and it is something of a miracle that any of it survived at all. What survived was passed on to us in a large part through the preservation of the Eton Choirbook, a richly illuminated manuscript collection kept at Eton College. Only 64 out of the original 93 compositions contained in the original manuscript remain, complete or in part. Harry Christophers and his vocal ensemble The Sixteen first tackled the Eton Choirbook in the early 1980s through a collection published by Meridian, still in print (see my review of [[ASIN:B0000C0FM2 Stabat Mater: Music from the Eton Choir Book]]). In the early to late 1990s, they returned to that source for Collins Classics, in a more thorough survey, which ultimately totaled 5 CDs. Collins is now gone, but fortunately those CDs and the rest of the recordings of The Sixteen have been reissued on the ensemble's label, Coro.

This music is sublime. I discovered it, by chance, more than a decade ago, through the Tallis Scholar's recording of the choral music of William Cornysh (about that see my review of [[ASIN:B00005ATD2 William Cornysh: Stabat Mater]]), but it is only now that I've come to explore more, through The Sixteen's Meridian CD and now this superb anthology.

I'm no specialist of English Renaissance music and I tend to bundle everything in a common category that goes from Dunstable to Byrd, although a century and a half separate them. But, already through Cornysh and now with all these selections from the Eton Choirbook, this music gives me a kick that I didn't recall having ever experienced with Byrd or Tallis. I pulled out my CDs those two composers, to see if my earlier impressions were confirmed, and if so, to try and understand why. In the Byrd masses I selected the Tallis Scholars, who had been such a revelation in Cornysh ([[ASIN:B000001I5D Byrd: 3 Masses by The Tallis Scholars]]), and in Tallis' Lamentations I took my ECM CD of the Hilliard Ensemble ([[ASIN:B0000031U5 Tallis: Lamentations of Jeremiah]]).

Impression confirmed, and part of my explanation is: sopranos. They fly and gambol in the stratosphere with heart-rending purity, and each of their leaps is an additional emotional stab in the heart. If angels have voices, I hope this is how they sound. But then, the vocal virtuosity, the sinuous and sensuous vocal lines, the huge compass are not reserved to the sopranos. In fact, this very virtuosity of writing it is a shared characteristic of all these composers (even when they write only for men's voice, as Cornysh in his Ave Maria or Wylkynson in his "Jesu Autem Transiens"), that seems to have been abandoned by their post-Reformation successors. As beautiful as it is, the music of Byrd and Tallis is simpler, melodically and harmonically, more serene and "un-eventful", conveying less of a sense of exultation (the composer Wilfrid Mellers, who wrote the illuminating liner notes of the Tallis/ECM CDs, has a brilliant if perhaps a bit contrived explanation for that simplification of the music, relating it to Protestantism's centering on the individual and on the social solidarities of the individuals, a consequence being the importance for words to be understood and for the rhythms to follow the inflexions of the spoken word, making "the human import [...] therefore more readily manifest than it is in the labyrinths of Catholic counterpoint". Se non è vero è ben trovato). Conclusion: Henry VIII and the Reformation chased the Angels from England. Their loss.

As was the case in the two previous volumes, some English songs are included that are by composers represented in the Eton Choirbook but not themselves actually part of the collection - here, two songs of Richard Davy (tracks 3 and 5), also represented by his Eton "O Domini Caeli Terraeque Creator" (track 1). They were included to give a notion of "appeal[s] for salvation through routes that the Protestant reformers would have preferred". And here, I must sing the praise of Harry Christophers. I don't think many people will pay any interest to this, but Christophers has his chorus sing with what I assume are carefully studied and reconstructed period accents; in particular, he has The Sixteen RIME - which, when you have a modicum of interest in the history of poetry, is one of the essential, even defining aspects of this literary form, but one rarely observed by modern singers. The principle of rime is that it was always meant for the ear, not for the eye: e.g. the final syllables of two riming verses should SOUND alike. It can be very tricky when singing texts from the Renaissance (English or continental), because pronunciation has changed to a degree that we hardly suspect. What poets of those times have used as riming words gives a good pointer to how these words were pronounced. So try pronouncing identically the final syllables of "lamentable" and "able", "cry" and "grievously", "well" and "deal", "this" and "wise". The Sixteen do, and I kneel to them in gratitude, for taking the pains to address such small details that will go unnoticed by most listeners, but that show the care lavished on these interpretations.

I can't really discriminate between the compositions contained on this volume 3. Richard Davy's opening `"O Domine Caeli Terraque Creator" and his song "Ah blessed Jesu" (track 5), are extraordinarily beautiful. And - bless Davy - the former has a long and beautiful passage only for interlacing female voices, from 6:45 to 9:30; as for the latter, it is sung by The Sixteen with reduced vocal forces, often one to a part, to wonderful effect. Wylkinskon's "Jesu Autem Transiens" (track 7) is a tour de force, a 13-part canon in which ultimately the 13 male voices overlap "in a harmonious chaos" (say the liner notes) evocative of the Christ surrounded by the 12 Apostles, and his Salve Regina (track 7), with its florid and stratospheric vocal lines, is on a par with the best of Cornysh.

The liner notes by John Milsom point out that in the manuscript of Wylkynson's Salve contained in the Eton Choirbook, the nine voice-parts of Wylkynson's Salve Regina "are labeled (in approximately descending order of range) according to their angelic rank: Seraphs, Cherubs, Thrones, Dominations, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels and Angels". No description could have been more fitting.

The other instalments in the series (in their original Collins guise) are:

[[ASIN:B000003VWT The Rose and the Ostrich Feather - Eton Choirbook Vol I]]
vol II : [[ASIN:B000003VWU The Crown of Thorns: Music from the Eton Choirbook, Vol. 2]], also under [[ASIN:B0000268IE The Crown of Thorns]].
[[ASIN:B000003VY1 The Flower of All Virginity - Music from the Eton Choirbook Vol 4]]
[[ASIN:B000003VZ5 The Voices of Angels: Music from the Eton Choirbook Volume V (Collins)]]

And the Coro reissue of this volume 4 is:
[[ASIN:B0001N9ZJ8 The Pillars of Eternity: Eton Choirbook Volume III]]


title: another entry for a great record of heavenly music

text:
In the upheavals wreaked by the English Reformation triggered by King Henry VIII's rejection of Roman Catholicism, most of the Latin liturgical music hitherto composed was violently destroyed, often with the institutions and buildings that harbored the manuscripts that contained it, and it is something of a miracle that any of it survived at all. What survived was passed on to us in a large part through the preservation of the Eton Choirbook, a richly illuminated manuscript collection kept at Eton College. Only 64 out of the original 93 compositions contained in the original manuscript remain, complete or in part. Harry Christophers and his vocal ensemble The Sixteen first tackled the Eton Choirbook in the early 1980s through a collection published by Meridian, still in print (see my review of [[ASIN:B0000C0FM2 Stabat Mater: Music from the Eton Choir Book]]). In the early-to-late 1990s, they returned to that source for Collins Classics, in a more thorough survey, which ultimately totaled 5 CDs. Collins is now gone, but fortunately those CDs and the rest of the recordings of The Sixteen have been reissued on the ensemble's label, Coro. However this volume 1 still sells for incredibly cheap, on both labels (for the Coro reissue, go to [[ASIN:B00067ZNOK The Rose & The Ostrich Feather - Eton Choirbook Volume I]], and you might want to look also on the other entry for this Collins release, [[ASIN:B000003VWT The Rose and the Ostrich Feather - Eton Choirbook Vol I]], where you might find it cheaper).

This music is sublime. I discovered it, by chance, more than a decade ago, through the Tallis Scholar's recording of the choral music of William Cornysh (about that see my review of [[ASIN:B00005ATD2 William Cornysh: Stabat Mater]]), but it is only now that I've come to explore more, through The Sixteen's Meridian CD and now this superb anthology (which I have in the Coro reissue).

I'm no specialist of English Renaissance music and I tend to bundle everything in a common category that goes from Dunstable to Byrd, although a century and a half separate them. But, already through Cornysh and now with all these selections from the Eton Choirbook, this music gives me a kick that I don't recall having ever experienced with Byrd or Tallis. I pulled out my CDs those two composers, to see if my earlier impressions were confirmed, and if so, to try and understand why. In the Byrd masses I selected the Tallis Scholars, who had been such a revelation in Cornysh ([[ASIN:B000001I5D Byrd: 3 Masses by The Tallis Scholars]]), and in Tallis' Lamentations I took my ECM CD of the Hilliard Ensemble ([[ASIN:B0000031U5 Tallis: Lamentations of Jeremiah]]).

Impression confirmed, and here is my explanation as to why: sopranos. They fly and gambol in the stratosphere with heart-rending purity, and each of their leaps is an additional emotional stab in the heart. If angels have voices, I hope this is how they sound. The vocal virtuosity, the sinuous and sensuous vocal lines, the huge compass are not reserved to the sopranos, of course. In fact, this very virtuosity of writing it is a shared characteristic of all these composers, that apparently was abandoned by their post-Reformation successors. As beautiful as it is, the music of Byrd and Tallis is simpler, melodically and harmonically, more serene and "un-eventful", conveying less of a sense of exultation (the composer Wilfrid Mellers, who wrote the illuminating liner notes of the Tallis/ECM CDs, has a brilliant if perhaps a bit contrived explanation for that simplification of the music, relating it to Protestantism's centering on the individual and on the social solidarities of the individuals, a consequence being the importance for words to be understood and for the rhythms to follow the inflexions of the spoken word, making "the human import [...] therefore more readily manifest than it is in the labyrinths of Catholic counterpoint". Se non è vero è ben trovato). Conclusion: Henry VIII and the Reformation chased the Angels from England. Their loss.

Among the pieces contained on this CD, volume 1 of the collection, I can't really discriminate, although given my effusive reaction to sopranos (the voices, I mean), it will come as no surprise that my favorites are the compositions in which they are most prominently featured: Fayrfax's Magnificat, Hygons' Salve Regina and, of course, Cornysh's Stabat Mater (which opened the Tallis Scholars CD and within its five first seconds sent me to heaven, back then). Browne's Stabat and the song of Turges' do without them. In Cornysh I marginally prefer the singing of the Tallis Scholars - although they sing at the same pitch the women sound more stratospheric because the sonics spotlight them more. The effect is more otherworldly with The Sixteen but has marginally less impact. With the Tallis I get the impression that I'm in the chapel, sitting very close to the singing nuns (woudln't Henry VIII have loved it!), with The Sixteen I'm in the church. Nonetheless it is a fine reading.

The two secular songs contained on this disc, Edmund Turges' "From stormy windis and grievous wethir" and the anonymous" This day day dawes" are actually not from the Eton Choirbook: The Turges - a song praying for the protection of the ostrich feather, emblem of Arthur, Prince of Wales, son of Henry VII and heir to the throne - was included because it is quoted in Browne's "Stabat iuxta Christi crucem", evidently an allegory on the death of Arthur in 1502, aged 15, opening the way to the throne to his younger brother, the future Henry VIII. I haven't understood the reason of the inclusion of the other song, other that it is copied adjacently in the manuscript where the Turges song is preserved. Anyway, its references to "the lily-whighte rose", emblem of Eliszabeth of York, Henry VII's queen and mother of Arthur and Henry, but also a metaphor of the Virgin Mary often used in the Eton choirbook, gives its title to the disc, along with Arthur's ostrich feather.

TT 62:34. The four other volumes, in their original Collins releases, are

[[ASIN:B000003VWU The Crown of Thorns: Music from the Eton Choirbook, Vol. 2]]
[[ASIN:B002VAIQBM The Pillars of Eternity: Eton Choirbook III]]
[[ASIN:B000003VY1 The Flower of All Virginity - Music from the Eton Choirbook Vol 4]]
[[ASIN:B000003VZ5 The Voices of Angels: Music from the Eton Choirbook Volume V (Collins)]]


title: Don't let yourself get robbed: you can find the angels cheaper than this

text: This is a marvelous disc of sublime music, and to know why, go to my review of its other entries on this website, where you will also find it (as I write) for considerably cheaper than here. See [[ASIN:B00067ZNOK The Rose & The Ostrich Feather - Eton Choirbook Volume I]] or [[ASIN:B000003VWT The Rose and the Ostrich Feather - Eton Choirbook Vol I]].


title: More Berio Folk Songs - not by Berio, but who cares?

text:
In the late 1980s to mid 1990s, the Italian music publisher Ricordi published a fine collection of Italian contemporary music, under the label Dischi Ricordi, which offered the opportunity to hear rare stuff by rarely encountered contemporary Italian composers, Luca Francesconi, Giacomo Manzoni, Bruno Bettinelli, Sylvano Bussotti, Azio Corghi, Sandro Gorli, Salvatore Sciarrino, Franco Donatoni, Aldo Clementi, Niccolo Castiglioni and many more (I'll have to do a listmania some day; but not all are listed on this website, I'm afraid; I was even surprised to find this one, which doesn't have a barcode). There were circa 40 releases, and then, in the late 1990s, the collection changed presentation (from gray rim/blue title as on the cover photo, to various with red spine); with that, some discs from the earlier collection were reissued but not all, and to make things even more confusing some of the new releases were published under the same label number as some of the unreissued recordings from the earlier series.

The present disc, CRMCD 1009, is one of the most original and appealing in the lot. It originated from the 1988 edition of the "Musica `900 a Trento" festival, which commissioned eleven composers to write adaptations of folk songs, similar to what Berio had done with his own, famous cycle ([[ASIN:B000003FOS Berio: Recital I for Cathy / Folk Songs / 3 Songs by Kurt Weill]]). The project was indeed an open homage to Berio, and even the choice of eleven composers refers to the eleven songs of Berio's collection.

Betty Olivero's Makamat, which opens the disc, after fragments of Yemeni, Bedouin and Egyptian poetry, is as good as Berio's Folksongs - the kind of thing you'd want never to end; the vocal delivery is genuine folk-Italian, all stops out, the kind of thing you could fancy hearing in the poor and run-down neighborhoods of Naples, and the instrumental accompaniment is fully contemporary. Andrea Macagni's Rosa Nel Giardino (after a Hungarian folk song) has the sweetness and melodic appeal of a Canteloube Song of Auverge; Carlo Galante's "Ai! Laurie Lambar", is, if I understand the liner notes, invented folklore sung in an invented language. It is delicately wistful and plangent, in the style of Berio's "Black is the colour of my true love's hair" or "I Wonder as I Wander". Beautiful. Same invented folklore for Zygmunt Krauze, Walter Zimmermann and Hubert Stuppner. Krauze's "Postcard from the mountains" starts vehemently, almost shouting, then continues in a terse mood, between lament and menace. Enigmatic and beautiful. Virgilio Savona's "Me Moro, Me Moro!" sounds like an Italian commercial song - it even starts with the words "Mamma Mia!". As ever, Salvatore Sciarrino is NOT where you expect him: his is the only arrangement which is not sung - it is a comical arrangement of a motif from "Brazil" - the Terry Gilliam film, I assume. Claudio Ambrosini claims that his "Il Segreto" is inspired by oriental traditions, but whatever its folk origins these are entirely concealed, and the piece sounds like fully-fledged contemporary music - wild, but quite beautiful, I find, and great imagination and subtlety of instrumental color; at 9:05, it is the longest piece on the disc. The liner notes rightly point that Andrej Petrov's  "Ballate, Ragazze, Ballatte!" sounds like Stravinsky (and more specifically, his wonderful Russian songcycle Pribaoutki). Francesconi's "La Voce" starts like a Stravinsky arrangement of a Sardinian Song, but ends in pure Francesconi - a great inventor of timbral colors in the manner of the radical Penderecki. Hubert Stuppner's "O Moj Babo, Sultan Sulejmane" sounds like Mozart's Turkish March gone wild, with great, colorful and clashing orchestration. Walter Zimmermann's  Die Postkarte is sung in German and the music is fascinating, in a repetitive-minimalist-obsessive manner. 1:15 of it is way too short.

All this is varied, inventive and entertaining. Three female vocalists share the proceedings. Esti Kenan, singing only Olivero's Maskamat, is entirely "Italian traditional" idiomatic, and she sounds great. Too bad she gets only one song. Johanna Knauf sings seven, she is a soprano singing with a classical technique and a pronounced vibrato, especially perceptible in Rosa Nel Giardino (track 2); it gets better after. Gabriela Munari is a mezzo with a touch of hard edge in her voice, and she is allotted three songs - she shares Savona's song with Knauf. Her dark hues and chest voice are great in Francesconi's La Voce.

Texts unfortunately not provided, good liner notes, TT a meager 46:36 - Berio's Folksongs could and should have been added, really. Too bad for the missed opportunity, I would have loved hearing Kenan sing them.


title: A Ravel curio - but you get more Corsican traditional chants (and uniformly plangent too) than genuine Ravel

text:
In 1895, aged 20, not yet entered the composition class of Gabriel Fauré at the Paris Conservatoire, Ravel orchestrated a collection of Corsican chants. The manuscript was never published and is kept at the Museum of Corsica, an anthropology museum located in the city of Corte, in Corsica. The liner notes refer to Austin de Croze, an ethnomusicologist before the word and concept were invented, who made a series of conferences in January and February 1896, after the publication of an erudite and well-researched book on "The folk song of Corsica". The relation to Ravel's orchestration isn't made very clear, but from what I understand Ravel's orchestrations were commissioned on the occasion of those conferences, and it is hinted that he used the book and its precise descriptions of the vocal techniques and melodies of traditional Corsican singing.

Since conductor Jean Michel Giannelli is credited for "rewriting the missing parts", it isn't clear exactly in what shape Ravel's orchestrations are, and what must be attributed to whom. And what did Ravel orchestrate in the two songs sung "a capella" (track 11, a lullaby, and track 13, a lament), is anybody's guess. The instrumental ensemble here is comprised of mandolin, guitar, string quartet, harp, piano, celesta and organ - the latter very present. It is not clear either in what form Ravel left the vocal line(s), if he "classicalized" them or not. Here, the performing ensemble is one specialized in traditional Corsican chant, and the liner note contains a staunch rejection by Giannelli of the usual (I don't want to use the word "traditional", here, it would be misleading) approach of classical composers when they orchestrate or harmonize folk music - by which I don't know if he's referring to Canteloube or Bartok... or Ravel, but anyway... . He contends that, often with the best intentions, these composers and approach betray the true nature of these folk songs, and that these should be sung with traditional vocal techniques and keeping their linguistic specificity. And that's what the ensemble does. They are sung as traditional chant with instrumental ensemble. The songs are shared between men, women and mixed chorus - we're talking here about a "traditional" chorus: homogeneity of voices isn't an objective.

I can't say that the result is very convincing. You get less the impression of hearing Ravel than of hearing Corsican folk song. And this selection of folk songs doesn't really capture one's attention, either. The main problem is that these songs lack diversity, they are all in a plangent, longing and nostalgic mood. No dance or romp to change mood and rhythm, and wake you up from your lull. In that context, and despite their commendable sparseness, I don't find that the arrangements of Ravel add very much either; on the contrary, many of them sound like the kind of bastardization you encounter on commercial arrangements of Italian folk songs - you know, "O sole mio" and the syrupy violins. It comes as no surprise that the two most enjoyable songs are the two sung "a capella".

Sorry Mr Giannelli, but this is no match for Canteloube's betrayal of the folk songs of Auvergne.

(For a great collection of contemporary arrangement of folk songs - other of course than Berio's famous Folksongs - give a try to [[ASIN:B0002F7RYK Folk Songs: Olivero, Mascagni, Galante, Krauze, Savona, Sciarrino, Ambrosini, Petrov, Francesconi, Stuppner, Zimmermann (From Festival Musica '900 a Trento)]])

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title: Il Giardino armonico's first recorded outing - and it's all already there

text:
Il Giardino Armonico later (in 1991 and 1992) rerecorded Vivaldi's complete Concerti da Camera (chamber concertos) for Teldec, in four instalments: [[ASIN:B000000SEM Antonio Vivaldi: Concerti da Camera, Vol. 1 (Concerti, Op. 10) - Giovanni Antonini / Il Giardino Armonico]], [[ASIN:B000000SEN Antonio Vivaldi: Concerti da Camera, Vol. 2 - Il Giardino Armonico]], [[ASIN:B000000SEO Concerti Da Camera 3]], [[ASIN:B000000SFS Antonio Vivaldi: Concerti da Camera, Vol. 4 - Il Giardino Armonio]]. That's the series that really established their stature as one of the most daring period instrument ensembles, specializing in the Italian baroque, beckoning (along with Fabio Biondi) the belated but resounding shift of Italian musicians to period instrument playing. Their Four Seasons came two years later, [[ASIN:B000024FWF Vivaldi: Four Seasons]]. Clever move of Teldec to have signed them away from Nuova Era.

Clever move of Nuova Era also to have signed them in the first place. This CD was recorded in 1988 and was their first. The group had been in existence for no more than three years. It is all already there: the glee, the exuberance, the pungent colors, the voluble virtuosity. These are marvelous, uplifting little works. These early Nuova Era and the later Teldec interpretations are nearly undistinguishable. On A-B comparison, when there is a slight difference, it is in favor of the remake, which has a marginal aded bite and dynamism in some movements.

If you have the Teldec set, no need to add this one then. If you don't want the complete Concerti da Camera (which can be only out of financial concerns, I should think, and not musical ones), it's probably better to go for any one of the Teldec foursome: their ordering is random and selection of each is as good as this. But this set also features a fine selection, in interpretations that remain excellent, even if they have been marginally superseded by the later set. But for Giardino Armonico fans, this is a must, as it documents the very first and already revelatory steps of a group that was rapidly to become a star of all period instrument groups: hats off.

This same disc can also be found under another entry, [[ASIN:B00005YOL1 Antonio Vivaldi: Chamber Concertos - RV103 / RV105 / RV107 / RV101 / RV98 "La Tempesta di Mare" / RV86 - Il Giardino Armonico]]. Note that Nuova Era has reissued this recording with another recital of Italian Sonatas by Corelli, Geminiani, Barsanti and Veracini made at the same time by Il Giardino Armonico: [[ASIN:B001CLG7DK Concerti Da Camera]] or [[ASIN:B002OM7QT0 Concerti Da Camara]].


title: Liszt from bombast to austerity

text:
I'm making room on my shelves...

This Hungaroton CD was published in 1991, part of a series documenting the most unfamiliar aspects of Liszt, and collates four obscure works for soloists and choir. Hungaria for soloists, male choir and orchestra(not to be confused with the tone poem) was composed in 1848 as a salute to the Hungarian revolution. The revolution was soon crushed and the manuscript remained in Liszt drawers; it got its first performance only in 1912 and was published (but only with piano accompaniment) as late as 1961. "An die Künstler", also for soloists, male choir and orchestra, dates from eight years later and sets to music thirty lines from a Schiller poem of 500 lines. It deals with the role of poetry as a guiding force for mankind. Now here's one that history sure proved wrong. The short "Magyar kiraly-dal" (Hungarian Royal Hymn) was commissioned for the opening of the Budapest opera in 1883, but was never played, as it was based on the famous Rakoczi tune to which all opposed to the monarchy rallied.

As befits their subject matter the three works are Liszt at his martial-bombastic worst. It was an ordeal to (out of pure conscientiousness) listen through. No choir could have been better chosen to sing them than the Male Chorus of the Hungarian Army, if you see what I mean. I don't know many composers who wrote patriotic music that was also good music - only Samuel Barber's Second Symphony comes to mind as I write, but I haven't specifically researched - and Liszt isn't among them. Add to that that some of the soloists sound disagreeably strained at various points - bear in mind that this is music where you have to sing really LOUD.

The 1848 uprising was crushed, of course, stirring Liszt to write his immortal Funérailles. He was obviously better at defeat and mourning than at chest-pounding. Here is matter for meditation: events that had tremendous and dramatic - and often fatal - impact on the lives of ten thousands of people, but that remain only as a small paragraph in history books, only to occasion a 10-minute composition of music that has profoundly moved generation after generation of music lovers and intepreters: God, is this just?

Maybe it is that kind of questioning that made Liszt renounce the pleasures of the world and turn into a Catholic abbot. His "Septem Sacramenta" (Seven Sacraments) for solo voices, chorus and organ, is one of the obscure products of that conversion, written in Rome (where else!) in 1878. Je conceived them both for taking part in the liturgy, and for church concert performance (form in which he himself occasionally conducted the composition. It is austere, typical late-Liszt, somewhere between a dry Fauré and a humorless Satie. It is more bearable than the heroic pieces, but still pretty grey, and not enough to justify keeping this disc in my collection.


title: shamanistic

text: Due to the vagaries of Soviet (or post-Soviet) licensing, this same disc was published under the Olympia label in 1993. This is how I have it and how I've reviewed it: [[ASIN:B0002IKVEK Invocations - V. Artyomov]]. There are various other entries, on Olympia ([[ASIN:B000003W9X Vyacheslav Artyomov: Invocations - Totem; A Sonata of Meditations; Invocations; Ave atque vale]]) or Melodiya ([[ASIN:B000B18MZS Vyacheslav Artyomov - Invocations - Mark Pekarskij]]). so look for the best price. Artyomov is an original voice and this disc, 69-minutes in length and featuring four compositions for percussion (with added voice in Invocations) is fascinating in its ritualistic, even shamanistic atmosphere. I refer you to my review for complete details.


title: shamanistic

text:
Artyomov is a name that came on my map only recently. I had for a number of years in my collection an early CD publication by Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab collecting three Soviet-originated recordings, [[ASIN:B00000DWQQ Artiomov:Way to Olympus]] (there was another one on the same label, [[ASIN:B00000DWQU Artiomov: Songs, Hymns & Dreams]], which I never got around to), which had failed to capture my attention of first hearing, but revealed itself to be quite fascinating and original, though unequal, when I recently pulled it out of my shelves to give it a second hearing. That prompted me to explore more, and more came in the form of an impressive requiem, [[ASIN:B0002G2YC4 Requiem - Vyacheslav Artyomov]], plus three CDs published in the early 1990s by the British label Olympia - and this is one of these. Due to the vagaries of Soviet licensing, each of the three recordings from this initial Mobile Fidelity CD was duplicated on each of these three Olympia instalments: see my reviews of the other two, [[ASIN:B000003W9Y Elegies]] and [[ASIN:B000003W9Z Way]]. The same material from these Mobile Fidelity and Olympia CDs was further tossed around and published on Melodiya CDs that are not always listed here.

Despite having been championed by Rostropovich, when the cellist was music director of the National SO of Washington, Vyacheslav Artyomov (b. 1940) remains one of the least recognized among the flock of composers to have emerged from the smoking ashes of both the Soviet Union and the overbearing rule of the twelve-tone system. Among his peers, Schnittke, Gubaidulina, Silvestrov, Denisov, Pärt, Kancheli and Vasks have had incomparably more exposure. Artyomov isn't a repetitive minimalist like Gorecki or Pärt or Tavener, but he partakes of the same trend that led these composers to reject, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the overbearing rule of the twelve-tone system in which they had been reared, and adopt a compositional stance deeply rooted in a kind of new age mysticism. Artyomov's attitude also found its sap in his ethno-musicological immersion into the traditions of Russian folk music.  In 1975, together with Sofia Gubaidulina and Viktor Suslin, he founded the ensemble "Astreya" for improvising with exotic instruments not found in standard ensembles, using his own collection of instruments.

I don't care at all for the new age or the mysticism, but in the case of Artyomov it does produce music that I find overall quite original and often fascinating.

The interest of this third Olympia instalment is that it features exclusively compositions for percussion, with an added soprano voice in "Invocations" (which was titled "Invocation", singular, on the Mobile Fidelity disc). They were composed in 1976 (Totem), 1978 (A Sonata of Meditations), 1979-81 (Invocations) and 1989 (Ave atque vale), but display no significant stylistic evolution that I can perceive. Artyomov plays on exotic color by using a great array of metal (including bells and cymbals), skin and wood percussion. The moods alternate between the hushed and enigmatic (with a pronounced taste for rattles, and the soft tintinnabulations of bells, especially in the first Sonata of Meditations "Morning Meditation") and the strongly and regularly pulsed, rock-and-roll like, with jazzy syncopations in the third Sonata, "Evening Meditation". There are also a few whistle effects, and a few wailing interjections that sound like blowing in a oboe or bassoon without a reed (at 13:10 into Sonata of Meditation and at the end of "Ave atque vale, 9:24). At 7:20 into totem the theme of the Dies Irae emerges played by vibraphone - explanation not given in the otherwise excellent and informative liner notes. At 28+ minutes, the Sonata of Meditations is the longest composition here, and according to your bent you will find it either tedious or entrancingly atmospheric. I like its mostly hushed and enigmatic quality. With its added shaman-like soprano voice uttering onematopoeia, sensuous wordless melismatas and phonemes (with the four percussionists taking part as well) over a hushed and subtle percussion accompaniment, Invocations is the most successful and fascinating composition on the disc. Memories of George Crumb come to mind. The music is ritualistic in atmosphere, if not shamanistic, and fascinating.

Indeed, the amusing thing about Artyomov's music for percussion is that, though it may be partly rooted in the traditions of Russian folk music, what it evokes is the kind of music you could fancy would have been played by a Mexican shaman smoked up on Peyotl as "reported" by Carlos Castaneda.

The music's apparent uniformity in the course of its 69:35 minutes might be a drawback for some listeners, but if you listen carefully it is subtly evocative. I've compared Invocations with the audiophile Mobile Fidelity and there is no sonic difference that I can perceive. The recordings were made at various dates between 1982 and 1990, but I hear no seams. So my only criticism is that the individual movements of Sonata of Meditation and Invocation aren't cued (the latter wasn't either on Mobile Fidelity), and the titles of the four movements of Invocations aren't given, even in the liner notes (they were on Mobile Fidelity, along with the names of the four percussionists). So here is how it goes (I'm playing by ear; the breaks are pretty obvious in Meditations, but one is not so clear in Invocations):

Track 2
Morning Meditation
Afternoon Meditation 8:03
Evening Meditation 13:10
Midnight Meditation 23:13

Track 3
Invocation of Fate - of Serpents
Invocation of Stars - of Birds 3:18
Invocation of Souls - of Wind 7:38
Invocation of Sounds - of Fire 12:33

The same disc can be found under [[ASIN:B000003W9X Vyacheslav Artyomov: Invocations - Totem; A Sonata of Meditations; Invocations; Ave atque vale]].


title: too uniformly plangent to saccharine to lachrymose

text:
Oh heck. Only after buying this CD, and before listening to it, did I realize that I had it already; only I had put it, some time ago, in the "to go" bin and completely forgotten about it. I guess that gave me the chance to double-check. I've enjoyed the recordings of the Balanescu Quartet, not only of other composers (among which my favorite is the String Quartets of Kevin Volans, [[ASIN:B000004CW3 String Quartets 2 & 3]]) but also of Alexander Balanescu's own "cross-over" compositions, especially the two first they did, [[ASIN:B000003Z5X Possessed]] and [[ASIN:B000003Z67 Luminitza]]. So I decided to complete my collection - forgetting that I already had!

Well, I've double-checked, and sorry, but now I have two tangoing in the "to go" bin. Sure, you have Balanescu's typical cross-over and easy-listening melodic invention, but the problem with this disc, for me, is that, having been composed to be the soundtrack of Philip Haas' movie "Angels & Insects", the mood is predominantly and uniformly plangent to saccharine to lachrymose. Each track is short but you have 22 of those. I'm not against the plangent to saccharine to lachrymose, but it needs to  be contrasted with other moods. Here the point of satiation is rapidly reached - like after a track or two. It is played, by the way, not only by the Balanescu Quartet but by the so-called Luminitza Chamber Orchestra. Maybe it would have been less saccharine if they had stuck to the leaner textures of the string quartet.

In the liner notes (or rather, the short blurb that serves as such), Balanescu says: "how easy it is to write music for film". Well - he might have worked a little harder. He does conclude by saying "how difficult it is to write music for film". Maybe that's why he composed only 49 minutes of it - thank God!

No, just kidding. Really, the disc might have an appeal to those grown on pop rather than contemporary Classical music. And at least I didn't pay a lot for my second copy.


title: historically significant but musically and sonically sub-par Bartok

text:
This recording of Bartok's Violin Concerto by Max Rostal and Sir Malcolm Sargent conducting the LSO has an unquestionable historical significance. Released in 1951 on Decca, it was the first version to be published on LP, and, if my information is correct, only the second recording ever, after the recording premiere of Menuhin and Dorati conducting the Dallas SO in 1946, now on [[ASIN:B00000E6PB Violin Concerto 2]] (the invaluable live recording of the premiere performance, in March 1939, by Zoltan Szekely and Willem Mengelberg, resurfaced publicly only in 1970, from Szekely's private archive, [[ASIN:B00008FJJ4 Bartok: Violin Concerto No. 2]]). Retrospective has their dates wrong, though: they give the recording date as October 1951, which is impossible, since the LP was reviewed in the Gramophone issue of June. There is somewhere on the net a stupendous discography in .pdf form of the London Symphony Orchestra which I've downloaded, and the info is there, plus more: producer Peter Olof, engineer Kenneth Wilkinson, recorded in Kingsway Hall  30-31 October 1950.

Unfortunately, the recording's interpretive and sonic values are not up to its historical significance. In fact, it must rank as the - shall I say "worst"? let's settle for "least recommendable" version I've ever heard. Sonically, one good point: these are not dubs from LPs, but officially licensed transfers from whatever tapes Decca provided: no surface noise, and no obtrusive tape hiss. It is, unfortunately, the original sonics that are badly flawed, with a close up violin (which is fine) and an orchestra that seems to be playing in the next room, or caught from an poor air-check from the early 1950s, or again pre-recorded and played-back on a poor loudspeaker in a rustic attempt at overdubbing. Some instruments are artificially spotlighted - the opening harps in the first movement, celesta in the second, triangle and snare drum in the finale - while the rest sounds, at best, ghostly distant, and at worst, inaudible - with no perceptible logic as to when one and when the other. This is the next worst thing after music minus one - only here it is solo minus an orchestra.

Interpretively, although Rostal was closely associated in those years with Bartok's Concerto, being its introducer to the UK and playing it numerous times, he has very much an "old-school" approach to it, a view that from day one was entirely out-of-situation in this work, as magnificently demonstrated by Szekely and Mengelberg, and even (though to a lesser extent) by Menuhin and Dorati. You can hear constant adumbrations of the old-fashioned portamento. You'd think you were hearing Misha Elman. But worst than that are the tempos in the outer movements, so deliberate, reined in and cautious as to sound impossibly sluggish. And that this is no mere subjective impression is shown by the timings: it takes Rostal 17:30 to get through the first movement, which turns the movement's lyricism into a mood that verges on the plangent. Bartok's VC, plangent? Now something surely is wrong here. Compare to Szekely's fiery 14:33 (and Gitlis in circa 1954 was as fiery, in 14:40, [[ASIN:B000001KC1 The Art of Ivry Gitlis]]) and Menuhin's more leisurely but still acceptable 15:34. On the positive side, this approach at least doesn't "sectionalize" the Concerto as Menuhin does with his large tempo variances; Rostal's slower sections don't register as abruptly slower than the faster ones. Still, this is Bartok for the old people in the retirement home. The finale? Szekely a hair-raising 10:21, Gitlis a hair-raising 10:49, Menuhin a comparatively more restrained but still energetic enough 11:33 - and Rostal a perfunctory 12:18, despite some fine expressive points in the "grazioso" passages. From what the sonics let you hear, Sargent whips the orchestra to fine snap sometimes - but not always either, and rarely enough to offset the impression of sluggishness born of those all-too cautious tempos. Some wrong entries were also left unedited in the finale (9:33). Rostal is tonally and technically OK, although he isn't a first-class virtuoso: his harmonics at 10:47 in the finale are off-pitch and his first-movement cadenza very fussy - whether it is by musical choice or just from trying to conceal some technical limitations behind exaggerated "expression" is hard to tell, and I would incline for the latter.

Rostal is best in the middle "andante", where Bartok's gossamer orchestration is less dis-served by Decca's sonics, and where the fiddler is relatively free of sentimental exaggerations. All this might have provided an interesting, if quite wrong-headed "alternative interpretive view" of the Concerto (interesting for the completists, that is), hadn't the orchestral sonics been so poor.

Beethoven's Kreutzer is much better, sonically (despite some stranges splices)and interpretively. My only qualm would be an excessively slow statement of the theme in the middle movement. Rostal made a series of recordings, with his partner Franz Osborn, of Beethoven's Violin and Piano Sonatas, for Decca, in the late-forties and -78rmp years and early fifties. I don't know if they recorded the complete ten. I am happy to have been able to hear Rostal's Bartok because of its historical significance and I am grateful to Retrospective (although nowhere indicated on the CD, it is a historical sub-label from the Dutch budget label Brilliant Classics) for making it available, although this is a highly specialized kind of gratitude that I doubt can extend to many other music lovers. In truth, Rostal's memory would have been better served if Retrospective had reissued more of the Beethoven, along with the Brahms Scherzo, an earlier recording from 1949, transferred from the 78rpm, with good instrumental definition and a fair amount of surface noise.


text:
As I write the disc can be found for much cheaper under its other entry on this website, [[ASIN:B00000DNUU Messiaen:Trois Petites Liturgies]], where I've published a detailed review, and it's also been reissued in a mid-priced Virgin twofer with choral works of Britten, [[ASIN:B00005A9NS Vocal Music]].

In capsule, while it is good in principle to have versions NOT made with the Loriod sisters and under the supervision of the composer, in order to give an alternative view which one hopes might be revelatory, this one doesn't meet these expectations, unfortunately. The sonics are distant and many details of Messiaen's scoring and timbral colors get lost both in Liturgies and in Rechants. In Rechants Edwards doesn't have the rhythmic bite and drive (nor the vivid sonic presence) of the composer's early champion Marcel Couraud in 1968 ([[ASIN:B000005EAH Quartet for End of Time]] or [[ASIN:B00004VKTK Messiaen: Quatuor pour la Fin du Temps; Cinq Rechants]]), and in Liturgies his conducting is very mundate and lacks the ecstatic and time-suspended quality that again the composer-supervised, Loriod-played recording of Couraud (in great 1964 sonics) has in loads ([[ASIN:B000005EAX Messiaen: Trois Petites Liturgies De La Presence Divine, etc. / Couraud, Loriod, et al]]), while his second movement is clean but a tad laid back, lacking Couraud's sense of exultant joy. Only in the third movement of Liturgies does it all coalesce. In the slower middle section Edwards still doesn't elicit the same ecstatic and time-suspended quality as Couraud, but it is something you hear only comparatively. The voices have a fine homogeneity. Also, the recording may not let the instruments jump at you, but all the balances are perfectly done (no overwhelming piano here, and the Ondes Martenot is exactly as it should, always audible but never garishly prominent), if you prick up your ears (score helping) you can hear everything, as Messiaen wrote it, celesta, vibraphone, maracas - and those moments where Messiaen instructs that the second violins and first violas should be heard over the first violins. This is not a version that flaunts its riches. O Sacrum Convivium, this short and mesmerizing A Capella chorus, is also fine.

There are CDs with Rechants and O Sacrum Convivium ([[ASIN:B00000I9AB Pupils Of Messiaen: A Cappella Works By Messiaen, Stockhausen And Xenakis / Jorgensen, Danish National Radio Choir]]), others with Liturgies and Rechants ([[ASIN:B000006LHH Trois Petites Liturgies De La Presence Divine, Cinq rechants]]), but the value of this one is that it is the only one, to the best of my knowledge, to pair all three choral works of Messiaen on a single disc (there is an early Mass from 1933 but I'm not sure it is even published and I don't know that it has been recorded). Unfortunately, despite some fine points, it is not entirely convincing interpretively and sonically.


title: Contemporary music from Québec - without Claude Vivier

text:
There is more to valuable Canadian contemporary music - and more precisely: from Québec - than  just Claude Vivier. Indeed, I first came across the three composers featured here - Denis Gougeon, John Rea and Michel Longtin - in collections which I had bought for the works of Vivier they included: Rea and Longtin on [[ASIN:B002PQCSKC Orchestre Metropolitain]], Gougeon and Longtin on [[ASIN:B000009L42 Montreal Postmoderne]]. The Vivier pieces were fine, but the discs also afforded nice discoveries, and the works by these other composers were equally excellent - as a matter of fact, they were sometimes quite close in style to Vivier's music. So I decided to explore more, and this new catch yields more excellent stuff.

Gougeon's "Heureux qui comme Ulysse..." again has many stylistic traits evocative of the unique (or not quite so unique?) personality of Vivier: the mixture of the joyous and dancing exuberance and the more introspective and questing moods, the love of the soprano voice (here singing an endless, word-less vocalise; and that it should be sung by the excellent Marie-Danielle Parent, who first-performed many a composition of Vivier, of course reinforces the kinship). It sounds like the minimalist music of Glass, Adams or the repetitive Dance music of Torke or Martland but - thank God ! - without the repetition.

John Rea wasn't born in Québec (in Toronto, in fact) but he has been closely associated with the contemporary music scene there, being one of the founding members of the Montreal new music society Les Evénements du Neuf and a member of the programming committee of the Societé de Musique Contemporaine du Québec. His "Offenes Lied" for two sopranos and clarinet is written after a poem by Heinrich Heine, text not provided, even its title is not given. The two singers' German is French-accented and not always comprehensible, and Rea reorganizes the text and sometimes doctors it, but, ah, suffice to pick up a few words, and Google search! It is the poem "Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen", used by Schumann as the twelfth Diechterliebe opus 48. The 9-minute composition is witty and theatrical (the high-soprano assumes many a diferent voice), but it took me the text to really enjoy. If I hear well, Rea has changed the word "Garden" into "Camp" to change it from the sorrowful songs of the flowers to the poet, into some song of despair and doom in the concentration camp. Also, the last line sung seems out of Berg's/Büchner's Wozzeck: "how red is the ascending moon". That wasn't really necessary, and arguably it needlessly puts too much weight on what Rea had to express.

Am leuchtenden Sommer[Winter]morgen
Geh' ich im Garten [Lager] herum.
Es flüstern und sprechen [singen] die Blumen,
Ich aber, wandle stumm.

Es flüstern und sprechen die Blumen,
Und schaun mitleidig mich an:
Sei unserer Schwester nicht böse,
Du trauriger blasser Mann.

[wie der Mond rot aufgeht]

In the bright summer [winter] morning,
I walk around the garden [camp].
The flowers are whispering and speaking [singing]
But I wander silently.

The flowers are whispering and speaking
and they look at me with pity.
Don't be mad at our sister,
You sad, bleak man.

Michel Longtin seems to have a fascination with Sibelius. Already his orchestral piece Aniola, featured on the first disc mentioned above, was something like the fantasy of Sibelius' unfinished and lost 8th Symphony. Likewise, Pohjatuuli is a homage to Sibelius, with direct quotations (in different instrumental attire) of symphonies n° 2, 4, 5, 6 and 7. It is atmospheric, full of arresting touches, its language rooted in the non-serial avant-garde of the 1970s (the Poles come to mind), but maybe too long for its elusive structure, more a display of orchestral colors that a tightly-knight symphonic structure per se. Enjoyable, but not truly memorable.

Varèse had nothing to do with Québec but, more than 80 years on, his Intégrales remain as modern and young as ever. Like Hamlet, ir could have been written yesterday.

TT 58:41, scanty liner notes, but valuable disc.


title: an interesting and original voice - although this otherwise fine CD doesn't present it at its most significant

text: This CD appears under three entries on this website, although it is offered under none as I write. Still, see my detailed review under [[ASIN:B000003W9Z Way]]. You can also find the same disc reissued by Melodiya, [[ASIN:B000B65FQW Artyomov - Way - Timur Mynbaev, Dmitri Kitaenko]].


text:
The same recordings were also released, in 1993, by the British label Olympia, and this is how I have them: [[ASIN:B000003W9Z Way]]. See my detailed review thereunder. Tristia is the most significant piece here, eg significant of Artyomov's mystical and slow-moving bent, and it is at times strikingly reminiscent of Ive's The Unanswered Question. "Way to Olympus" (1978-1984) is the longest piece on the disc (33+ minutes) and Artiomov's magnum opus from those years. It later developed into a tetralogy called "Symphony of the Way" (the sequels are "On the Threshold of a Bright World, 1990-2002; "Gentle Emanation", 1991-2004; and "The Morning Star Arises", 1993, none recorded). The music is often very atmospheric and coloristic, sometimes corny in its imitation of Scriabin and the exotic sound-world of Florent Schmitt and Charles Koechlin. In Memoriam is the earliest piece, a post-grad work from 1968 and a Violin Concerto in all but name, and the most rooted in the middle-of-the-road compositional styles of the modernists from the second half of the 20th Century - which doesn't mean it isn't enjoyable, although it is not quite as original, especially as Tristia.

Ultimately, except maybe for Tristia, the compositions are not as significant of Artymoov's mystical and "slow-motion" personality as those contained on [[ASIN:B000003W9Y Elegies]]. And don't miss Artymov's tremendous Requiem either, which you will find under three entries:[[ASIN:B000003JIB Requiem]], [[ASIN:B0002G2YC4 Requiem - Vyacheslav Artyomov]] or [[ASIN:B000EDWL6Y Requiem]]. TT 70+ minutes.


title: more elegance than visceral excitement

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Recordings made in 1981 in the LP era and completed in 1988 (by tracks 1-5 if my ears serve), to bring it to a CD-compatible TT of 62 minutes. A slight sonic difference can be heard over headphones: the more recent recording sounds fuller but a bit muffled, the earlier one slightly more distant but sharp. One adjusts. There aren't 16 Sonatas as announced but 17: why Calliope calls track 5 the "Toccata in D minor", I don't know. It probably appeared under that title in the old edition played by Södergren. It is L422 (K141), one of Scarlatti's most famous and exhilarating pieces.

The sonatas are given by their Longo numbering - not convenient these days, and Calliope could have updated the info. Here is the correspondence:

1. L382 K69
2. L314 L511
3. L22 K198
4. L423 K32
5. L422 K141
6. L118 K466
7. L282 K133
8. L23 L205
9. L108 K213
10. L266 K517
11. L58 K64
12. L33/K87
13. Ls15/K160 (I think. I haven't researched what "Ls" stands for - not a typo from me
14. L238/208
15. L132/K429
16. L187 K481
17. L349 K146

Inger Södergren is a Swedish pianist, born in 1946, a pupil of Carlo Zecchi in Vienna and Salzburg and of Nadia Boulanger and Yvonne Lefébure in Paris. She is now a partner of contralto Nathalie Stutzmann (in music, I mean, I don't know about the rest). She was picked up in the late 1970s by the French label Calliope and has recorded exclusively for them since. She made a small number of recordings which were hailed by the French critics for their elegance and tastefulness. Her selection of 17 Sonatas taps among both the famous (L33/K87, L118/K466, L187 K481, L238/K208, L266 K517, L349 K146, L423/K32) and the obscure (L15/K160, L58 K64, L108 K213, L132/K429, L282/K133, L314/K511, L432/K32 - L58 has been recorded by Marcelle Meyer and Aldo Ciccolini though, and L432 by the same Marcelle Meyer and Emil Gilels).

She's got the required digital fleetness for the most virtuosic and boisterous Sonatas, but (commendably in my opinion) never hammers them and always keeps her edges soft (try the "Toccata", or L349/K146). But overall her choice favors the more pensive and brooding moods (track 1, 4, 6, 8, 9, 12, 14, 16) over the really exuberant ones (5, 7, 10, 17). A handful fall in between (2, 3, 11, 13, 15), merry but gallant and elegant, the entertainments of Spanish nobility in the palaces rather than peasant romp. But overall, there is more elegance in this recital than visceral excitement.

The disc has been reissued budget and I've uploaded photos for both covers. If unavailable here you will find it on the French sister company under ASIN B0000263SF.