Saturday, 8.30.08, 6:00 am
Classical Performances
The Cleveland Orchestra Impressive in Salzburg
The chill of the surrounding rock in the refreshingly cool and coolly lit Felsenreitschule necessitated a fastening of shawls and pashminas. With a few pieces of the Romeo & Juliet set dangling, Damocles sword-like, above the Cleveland Orchestra’s double bass section (it would be such a pity), Franz Welser-Möst got to show the international audience at the Salzburg Festival what he can do with his “other”, American orchestra in direct comparison to the Vienna Philharmonic’s performances. Judging from their second of three programs on August 24th and their performance a week before when they were on opera-duty for Rusalka, America’s youngest of the “Great Five” orchestras can teach their Old Europe counterparts lessons in nuance, luminosity, subtlety, transparency, and delicacy. At least this is true compared to the Vienna Philharmonic’s operatic guise as the Vienna State Opera Orchestra which I last heard under Thielemann (Parsifal: brilliant, though sloppy) and Segerstam (Tristan: very modest).
The Cleveland Orchestra, at least under Welser-Möst, is not a terribly exciting orchestra and it won’t likely be caught probing the emotional extremes of any given score. But boy, do they sound splendid in what they do. The music they play is made to sound its very best, whether the Andante of the 10th Symphony of Franz Schubert (performing version by Brian Newbould), Bela Bartók’s Miraculous Mandarin, Bartók’s Viola Concerto, or Johann Strauss’ Emperor Waltz.
In that repetitively delightful Schubert Andante, the ears indulged in the playing’s great elegance, especially of individual voices (with the oboe as primus inter pares), the strings’ civilized sound, and homogenous brass delicacy. With how many other orchestras would especially the latter claim be an oxymoron?!
Bartók’s Mandarin is an orchestral showpiece with the possibility to earn honors in precision and color. It should also be more than that: When premiered with the pantomime that goes with it, the subject so disturbed the audience (a hooker clamoring for business, an overly excited man, and a bloody end on top), that Cologne’s mayor and chancellor-to-be Konrad Adenauer had subsequent performances canceled. Ideally, the Miraculous Mandarin is not just a test for orchestral splendor, it is musical porno. The Cleveland Orchestra performed superbly but PG13. Full marks on all technical aspects, but deductions for less than lurid story-telling. With Welser-Möst it was a spectacular orchestral show, but absolute music. In the end, one left seduced, but there was no need to wipe blood (et al.) off the floor.
There was coherence even in chaos – to an effect as if every audience member had been given a set of Pierre Boulez’ ears. Amid supreme clarinets (though the first with too much extraneous air in the most aggressive parts), every part of the orchestra had ample opportunity to shine – and did.
Kim Kashkashian, the ARD-prize winning violist* from Detroit, presented the rarely performed Viola Concerto (like the Schubert, it had to be reconstructed from sketches) impeccably; even that out-of-control hearing aid (or some other electro-acoustical nuisance) could not detract from those long cadenza-like passages that echo in the orchestra, trading fragments with the soloist. The brass, once again showing its superiority over more famous, crassly blaring such sections in other orchestras, was touchingly distant, as if played from far, far away. The many very lyrical sections – not unlike in Bartók’s Third Piano Concerto – turned this into yet another showpiece, this time for the viola. Spectacular all around and sure to have won new converts to Bartók.
The Emperor Waltz begins with that most waltzing 4/4 imaginable before a little transformational scene gets the actual ¾ under way. The arch-Austrian Welser-Möst (born in Linz, capital of Upper Austria) made for a smooth sounding, strangely Prussian execution of the waltz – as if 90 musicians were filmed in the act of exactitudinal skating on an ice rink. Ears and mind were moved and swayed, but one’s heart, feet, and buttocks remained firmly put.
* The Quatuor Ébène, which I reviewed the week before, is also an ARD prize winner. And coincidentally both categories, String Quartet and Viola are part of the upcoming 2008 ARD Music Competition which gets under way in September.
Friday, 8.29.08, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
Krenek Beyond Jonny
"New Releases" posts are regular columns that feature reviews of new CDs that are, for one reason or another, truly outstanding among the many I come across every month.
If the Salzburg Hagen Quartet excels in fastidious precision and extraordinary detail, the Petersen Quartet(t) might broadly be considered their Berlin analogue for grit and drive. Once you have heard them in concert or on one of their CDs it is difficult not to be enthralled by them.
Had the Petersen Quartet a bigger, more international record company behind them, they would be better known outside Germany – although two tours in the US in 2005 (including a stop in Washington) have spread the word about their mix of technical excellence, emotional commitment, and challenging, stimulating programming.
Most unfortunately their label of 16 years, Capriccio, has just been dragged into bankruptcy by its parent company Delta Music. One can only hope that the unofficial successor label to Capriccio, Phoenix Edition (apt name), will continue to record them*, make available back catalog**, and perhaps even finish their Beethoven cycle-in-progress.
The second-to-last recording the Petersen Quartet issued on Capriccio is indicative of their strengths: It’s the second part of an unofficial Ernst Krenek String Quartet cycle containing Quartets Nos. 3 and 5. And although the music takes getting used to for all but those ears deeply steeped in the harsher examples of 20th century string quartet writing, it whets the appetite for the other 4 Quartets of Krenek they have not yet been recorded.
Krenek is a composer who has achieved a permanent place in the pantheon of music through historic importance, more so than awareness of his work. His opera “Jonny Spielt Auf” defined a musical schism in Europe and rang in a new era of music when it shocked and fascinated audiences in 1927. “Jonny” was pitched against Korngold’s sumptuous, romantic opera “Das Wunder der Heliane”, a cigarette (still available) was named after it, and it plays a prominent role in the chapter on Berlin in the 20s of Alex Ross’ “The Rest is Noise”. All that makes seem Krenek a far-away composer, part of the pre-World War II past in the way Korngold or Joseph Marx or Franz Mittler are thought of – not a composer who lived until 1991 and who covers about as many musical styles as the 20th century offered (including experiments with electronic music), and who retraced the musical development of pre-War Europe in a post-Schubertian sort of Winterreise (Reisebuch, op.62, 1929).
On the Petersen Quartet’s recording we are faced with Krenek the youthful composer of string quartets, starting with his Third Quartet from 1921, written in a time when he was (briefly) married to Anna Mahler and moving away from the “mercilessly dissonant style of [his] youth” (Krenek). It Superficially resembles the Bartók quartets, but without the whipping, driving rhythms of his Hungarian colleague. There is not much that would remind of his teacher Schreker or his mentor Zemlinsky, who was fascinated when he heard this work premiered by the dedicatee Hindemith’s Amor Quartet.
For ears less attuned to structural and compositional qualities in ‘difficult’ music than Zemlinsky’s, it will take repeat listening to unlock the severe beauty and the wealth of ideas that the Peterson Quartet so arduously advocates. Perhaps better turn to the Fifth Quartet first: “The highpoint of Krenek’s use of the Schubertian aesthetic” is a common description of his op.65, but not terribly meaningful to these ears. What I do hear is a highly chromatic lament and farewell to tonality. It’s a bear of a quartet, about 40 minutes long, opening with a sonata-form Allegro, meandering through 10 thematic variations for its second movement and closing with a 12 minute Phantasie. This is wistful, intense stuff and sounds more than three years apart from Krenek’s first dodecaphonic opera Karl V that would follow in 1933 (preceding Lulu by one year). Jarring and sweet, lyrical and wondrously twisted, these 40 minutes are like a last panoply of a dying musical style. A beached whale of tonality, strange and out of place and continually fascinating: another example that Krenek cannot be pinned down to any style or even stylistic trajectory.
The first Krenek disc of Conrad Muck & Daniel Bell (violin), Friedemann Weigle (viola), and Henry-David Varema (cello) – was a prize winning effort. This one should be, too.
* Apparently they do: A disc with Schoenberg’s 2nd String Quartet, Webern’s incredibly beautiful Langsamer Satz, and Berg’s Lyric Suite (with none less than Christine Schäfer taking the soprano parts) has just been issued. And more good news: Since Phoenix is distributed by NAXOS, their discs should be widely available in the US, which was not the case with Capriccio.
** The fate of Capriccio’s catalog has yet to be decided by the liquidators.
Tuesday, 8.26.08, 6:00 am
Propaganda from the Podium
The bizarre South-Ossetian war between Georgia and Russia has, apart from the regular bullets and tanks, brought forth some queer methods of alternative warfare. First there were amateur cyber-attacks on Georgian websites pre-shadowing the military activities. Echoing it now are the harshly-harmonious sounds of Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony.
It was a surprisingly blunt parade of cultural diplomacy when Valery Gergiev – maestro par excellence with the London Symphony Orchestra, at the Metropolitan Opera, Rotterdam Philharmonic, and the Kirov Orchestra and an ethnic Ossetian – thus propagandized the Russian “liberation” of South Ossetians from the cruel hands of their Georgian oppressors.
Conducting from the destroyed center of South Ossetia’s capital Tskhinvali last week, Gergiev’s starkly black and white view of the casus belli (or casus foederis, if you wish) would have been obvious enough by his choice of that Seventh Symphony, a triumphant and dark defiance of the Wehrmacht’s siege on Leningrad-cum-St.Petersburg: South Ossetians are innocent victims, the Russian army their knight in shining armor, and Georgian President Mikhail Saakashvili has a metaphorical toothbrush mustache.
Although it is far from certain that Georgia is as innocent a victim as its President wishes to have the West believe, the ongoing Russian propaganda and disinformation campaign is even cruder and less credible. To hear Russian politicians and civilians parrot that propaganda is not surprising. But so blatant a use of art in the service of partisan (and military) politics as the appearance of the famed Kirov Orchestra in Ossetia, coupled with Valery Gergiev’s less than nuanced rhetoric (“It was a huge act of aggression on the part of the Georgian Army… I am very grateful as an Ossetian to my country, Great Russia, for this help”), must startle the West where this sort of cultural diplomacy is directed to more discreet, ambiguous ends.
Cross-cultural harmony, for example, as in Daniel Barenboim, the Jewish Maestro from Berlin, conducting the Israeli-Palestinian “West East Divan” Youth Orchestra in the name of peace and dialogue. Or Lorin Maazel conducting, albeit naively, his New York Philharmonic in Pyongyang to foster communication with an ‘enemy’ country.
Those are the kind of messages we like our art tied to. How to respond to Gergiev, deeply beholden and linked to the Russian political and economic elite (Putin and he are Godfathers to each others’ children), celebrating vigorously a long-planned military action that the West more likely compares to the annexation of the Sudetenland than to a peace-keeping mission in Kosovo?
Boycotting Gergiev won’t do. For one, the idea of punishing the commingling of art and politics by punishing the artist Gergiev for his crass politics is inherently silly. Most people accept that artistic value and nobility of character are two perfectly separate entities. Wagner directed unpalatable words towards Jews in his diatribes, Richard Strauss was connected with the Nazis for some time, Shostakovich himself alternated between Soviet tool and semi-quavering freedom fighter . Conductors Herbert von Karajan (ambitiously) and Wilhelm Furtwängler (naively) stayed with the Third Reich. Their music and interpretations, however, are among the best there ever was, and cannot and should not be defined by their politics. Their flaws should be remembered, but not be the only lens through which we view their work.
Ignoring the Russian Maestro would not mean as great an artistic sacrifice, but in Russian repertoire there isn’t a conductor who can match Gergiev on a good day. And for many bored and flaccid Western orchestras, his dark, fitful energy is just the thing to kick them into a style of performance that can dazzle with force and enthusiasm. If you have heard the NSO suddenly play their hearts out when they played the staple “Pictures at an Exhibition” under him, you will have witnessed the effect most vividly. Gergiev will continue to delight occasionally and thoroughly if we focus on the music he makes. For his expressing political views contrary to ours, we need not deprive ourselves of the qualities he brings to his ensembles in London, Rotterdam and New York.
New York, though, where he is principle guest conductor at the Metropolitan Opera, might the toughest case. Gergiev showed the appalling judgment to mimic the tasteless Russian propaganda of comparing Georgia to the perpetrators of 9/11. This sort of revisionism of New York’s most tragic hour might not sit well even with Prokofiev-fans among Manhattanites. Perhaps they will demand – and get – an apology? In turn New Yorkers might muster enough tolerance of idiocy or, in this case, predictable patriotic toadying to his motherlands’ bosses, to let him be.
Anyone familiar with the overt mixing of arts and politics in Russia (reminiscent of Soviet times), will not be surprised by the displays from Ossetia. Yet the more interesting question remains: whence comes the intense yet natural sway Russia has over like-minded patriots in all strata of society, and how will the culture business be affected by it. A question worthy for political OpEds, and more essential to our geopolitical future than the question of how to treat a talented, misguided conductor. Meanwhile, happily listen to Rimsky-Korsakoff’s gorgeous The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh. A story about a legendary city with inhabitants of innocence and beauty, saved from Tartar assault only through intervention of a Russian mystery. No one conducts it better than Gergiev.
Saturday, 8.23.08, 6:00 am
The Quatuor Ébène Between Salzburg and Washington
The Quatuor Ébène impressed audiences around the world, not the least since their winning the ARD Competition in 2004. In Washington Pierre Colombet (first violin), Gabriel Le Magadure (second violin), Mathieu Herzog (viola), and Raphaël Merlin (cello) last played in 2006 where they offered repertoire staples (Bartók, Haydn, Ravel) at the Corcoran and examples of their other passion – Jazz – at the Library of Congress. On March 6th, they will embark on their first big North American tour, starting in Boston, criss-crossing the country by hitting Oklahoma, Gainsville, Portland, Seattle, New York’s Carnegie Hall, and – fortunately – Washington DC at the Library of Congress on March 13th. Even for a town spoiled with great chamber music, this recital of Debussy, Fauré, and Ravel should be circled in all music enthusiasts’ calendards.
Meanwhile, on August 18th this year, they gave their Salzburg Festival debut at the gorgeous Large Concert Hall of the Mozarteum. Their last concert before a months worth of vacation, it was at first a nervous, then free-wheeling, and on the whole triumphant debut.
That they played a program of those works they are the most familiar with did not that they were playing it safe. The opening Debussy showed the ambient acoustic of the hall, blending the strings’ sound nicely – and, though on first impression only – perhaps even a little too much. In the French quartet’s hands the 1893 op.10 in g-minor was a modern, torn affair, played with the greatest urgency and vehemence. The pizzicato-happy Assez vif et bein rythmé cannot fail to thrill in any case, but the playful and nuance-rich way of the Ébène showed their great familiarity and equally great joy of performing the Debussy. The gentleness and rich glow of the Andantino was milked for dreamy loveliness and the Très modéré finale equal parts delirium and exuberance, but somehow the inner tension had slacked and the music lost a bit of its compelling cohesion.
The searching first movement Lento of Bartók’s First String Quartet op.7 (1908, Szöllözy 40) doesn’t make it particularly easy to find one’s way into, but the ardor especially of the lower strings had the interested, if lamentably sparse audience engaged from beginning to end – when the quartet has reached the riveting Allegro vivace by way of (Allegro) Introduzione. From the very audibly cosseted Beethoven reminiscences right through the middle movement to the finale where Bartók’s freewheeling sprit and the “Peacock” folk-tune fly about and around our ears: This was an assault on all the senses in the most invigorating, stimulating way. If a quartet can’t let it rip during Bartók, then when?
During intermission a few people fled from Anton Webern’s name staring at them from the program. This might have been more understandable – though still lamentable – had the Quatuor Ébène programmed his String Quartet op.28 or Six Bagatelles op.9 which are admittedly ‘difficult’ listening. But on the menu was Webern’s Langsamer Satz (Slow Movement for String Quartet) M78. The filigreed, high-romantic chromaticism is one of the most searing pieces of music ‘per square inch’ there is. It’s Tristan & Isolde condensed into 9 minutes. Magnificent the Ébène’s lush reading: a better case for Webern could scarcely have been made. Easily the highlight of this excellent recital, this was one of those examples where words fail and only music can continue to speak. The atmosphere of a whole hall collectively holding its breath during the most exquisite pianissimo passages alone elevated the recital to one of those rarest of moments that can instill, further, or restore one’s faith in music. Quiet ecstasy!
Back to earth for Ravel: a more gritty type of fun and joy – and the official twin of the Debussy Quartet. Not the elation of Webern or the exhaustive bursts of energy of the Bartók, but just the thing to deliver a kick and quicken one’s step on the way from the Mozarteum out into the awaiting Salzburg night. The first two movements were a display of the most nimble delicacy and wit, putting smiles on faces all around. The third movement was surprisingly dark and hovering, though lacking a little tension again. No matter: the Vif et agité finale ripped forth from their instruments like a bat out of hell. Instrument abuse in the service of music. This was music as entertainment – which is precisely what music is and what it should be. Three unconventional encores – Chick Corea’s “Spain”, Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue”, and a Piazzola-esque rendition of the Pulp Fiction soundtrack underlined the aspect of brilliant entertainment.
Early October the Quatuor Ébène will issue their first recording on their new label, Virgin, with Fauré, Debussy, and Ravel.
Thursday, 8.21.08, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
Jacques Offenbach’s Grand Concerto for Cello & Orchestra
"New Releases" posts are regular columns that feature reviews of new CDs that are, for one reason or another, truly outstanding among the many I come across every month.
Marc Minkowski is not a conductor known for conventionalism, whether it be his interpretations or the repertoire itself. While he made a name for himself with French Baroque as the founder of Les Musiciens du Louvre, he has since shown his wide-ranging taste and ability by giving us much Handel, superb Gluck, and all the operas of his countryman, Jacques Offenbach. Last February he issued a disc – his last for DG’s Archiv label? – that went by me, unnoticed. Unnoticed not the least because it was simply titled: “Offenbach Romantique”. Who knew it would include the whacky, topsy-turvy, oversized cello concerto of Offenbach?
Yes – Jacques Offenbach wrote a cello concerto, and it’s not just the one-movement Concerto Militaire, seldom enough played in its own right and actually the first movement of the Grand Concerto. I only took note when Minkowski, guest-conducting the Bavarian State Orchestra, programmed this barnstormer concerto in its Fifth Akademiekonzert of the 2007/2008 season.
The cello concerto has been reconstructed from fragments that have floated about since the 1940s, but the completion could not take place until 2006 when Jean-Christophe Keck, the publisher of the critical, complete Offenbach edition, found Offenbach’s handwritten score in the Library of Congress and an archive in Cologne. Now we know that the Concerto rondo is the finale of this Grand Concerto, and its nickname “militaire” makes more sense as it did when it was applied to the rather un-martial stand-alone first movement.
That first movement opens gently, softly with timpani touches. It quickly swells, hitting a sporting and gay stride until the cello enters – solo – with a double-stop studded opening statement and then giving way to something altogether more hysterical.
The sounds emitted convey one thing before all: Someone wrote this, who knew the cello, its abilities and possible abuses intimately – and did so to have all the fun imaginable with the instrument. Jérôme Pernoo, the young French cellist that Minkowski plays this with on disc and on tour, succeeds in conveying this impression not only about the composer (said to have been the Franz Liszt of the cello), but also about himself.
Given the sometimes ridiculous challenges that this work presents – high register double stop-sequences especially – a live performance isn’t likely to achieve technical perfection. Not necessary: Pernoo succeeds in concert through sheer buoyant joy, verve, and plenty spunk. Listening to him play this concerto, one can not help but expect it to take cellists’ repertoires and concert halls by storm,despite its considerable length (~45 minutes) and the downright silly technical demands it places on the soloist. The recording, also made at a concert, doesn’t trade any of that energy for the added technical polish which may, in any case, have come by diligent patching.
There is very little military attitude in the highly lyrical, flute-twittering and cheery second movement Andante – the only entirely new music in this work. How good to have found that part, though: the duo between cello and first violin must surely be among the most immediately and widely pleasing moments in cello concerto history.
Between the artillery and infantry shots from the third movement’s percussion ranks, the cello and the strings put down an infectious romp that evoked a sort of Beer-hall joviality in the dignified surroundings of the Munich opera house. Imagine what it can do to you in your arm-, or better yet, rocking-chair at home – especially while having a beer! The back and forth between those percussion batteries and the soloist has moments of absolute hilarity, concluding with a particularly harsh salvo that leaves the cello limping off stage.
Chock full of lust for composing and playing the cello, unbridled fantasy, like an excited puppy blissfully running about the orchestral stage: this concerto cares not about convention, only entertainment. Had a composer of lesser stature than Offenbach attempted this, the result might have been an embarrassing disaster. As it is, there are more moments in this work that made me smile broadly than I can count. A feat not possible had it not been for the willing and sympathetic support from the Staatsorchester in Munich or said Musiciens du Louvre who played at the occasion of the recording at the MC2 in Grenoble.
Pernoo clearly found a – very thankful – vehicle here, though I suspect that for all its entertainment value also one vulnerable to overexposure. So far, however, repeat listening on disc has only recalled an equally broad smile. Minkowski stuffs the disc with more romantic and rare Offenbach: The overture to Orphée aux enfers, Overture, Ballet & Grand Valse of Lees Fées du Rhin (Offenbach’s take on the Rhinemaidens), and the Ballet des Flocons de neige from “Le Voyage dans la lune”. Entertainment of the highest quality – which is also true for his latest release, and the first as an exclusive artist for Naïve records.
Presented in a packaging upon with the greatest attention and care have been lavished, this little hard-cover 115-page book with pictures, re-prints of Gaugin, van Gogh, Joan Mitchell, original essays and relevant short stories (in English, French, and German) contains a marvelous new recording of Bizet’s L’Arlésienne. A twist to this is that Minkowski doesn’t just record the Bizet Suite, or the Guiraud-arranged Second Suite. He takes both, the revised Bizet version and Guiraud’s 1897 orchestration, and bookends excerpts from the original musique de scéne which includes the “Chorus of Kings”, the first version of the Farandole, the melodrama for string quartet and the Sicilienne for two flutes, two violins and viola.
Preceded is all by the Prélude and the three Entractes of Carmen – which Minkowski prefers over the usually played Suite No.1 (neither Suites were arranged by Bizet). The players and recording location are the same as for the Offenbach. A gem of a CD on many levels, offering familiar music in a new guise, if not the explosive nutsiness of the Offenbach.
Monday, 8.18.08, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
Koopman’s Kaffee Kantate
"New Releases" posts are regular columns that feature reviews of new CDs that are, for one reason or another, truly outstanding among the many I come across every month.
Imbuing the text of Bach’s secular cantatas with character can create many a delight that further distinguishes them from the sacred cantatas’ more somber tone. The disadvantage of successfully groaning lines like “…er brummt ja wie ein Zeidelbär” (“…he groans like a honey bear”) with a genuinely ugly tone is that they sound, well… ugly. Paul Agnew, in the opening recitative of the famous “Coffee Cantata” (Schweigt stille, plaudert nicht” BWV 211) goes for some sort of expressive realism and comes up with authentic unpleasantness. A very limited success, indeed – but fortunately passed by quickly enough to ignore.
Klaus Mertens and Anne Grimm meanwhile act the rest of this domestic ‘coffee vs. future husband’ drama out very nicely – and they remind me why I so loved this recording when first came out in the mid-90s as part of Ton Koopman’s complete Cantata series. Now re-issued at high mid-price, several famous couplings are available on single discs – including the Coffee- and Peasant Cantatas, the Marian Feast Cantatas , and four out of five Wedding Cantatas.
BWV 211, charming though it is and despite my early listener’s allegiance to it, cannot compete with Helmut Rilling’s version for the singing alone. Christine Schäfer and Thomas Quasthoff are simply easier on the ears. And if it need be an original instrument recording, Masaaki Suzuki has equally fast tempos to offer and, though Mertens is preferable to Stephan Schreckenberger, an impeccably delightful soprano in the stupendous Carolyn Sampson.
BWV 212 – “Mer hahn en neue Oberkeet” – with Els Bongers and Mertens does not call better versions to mind: Mme. Bongers’ soprano is stylish and the playing fleet. Fleeter, indeed, than one might expect from a Peasant Cantata. Koopman’s harpsichord and Jaap ter Linden’s cello provide the expert support for Mertens in the short, three-movement “Amore traditore” BWV 203 that fills this disc out to a reasonably generous 65 minutes. Less generous – especially at that price – is the absence of a libretto, the on-line availability of which not being an adequate substitute.
A much better example of the great virtues of the Koopman Cantata Cycle (formerly Erato, now Challenge Classics) is the disc with the Wedding Cantatas. The Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra & Chorus get to shine and Johannette Zomer, Sandrine Piau, Annette Markert, James Gilchrist and, again, Mertens are a line-up that leaves nothing to desire in “Dem Gerechten muss das Licht” BWV 195. Like “Gott ist unsre Zuversicht” BWV 197, this cantata is split in Pre- and Post-Copulationem. Since the liner notes are trimmed versions from Koopman’s and Christoph Wolff’s originals and don’t bother to explain, this might give rise to humorous confusion: a Bach chorale, instead of a cigarette? Alas, “pre-” and “post-copulationem” is merely indicative of which part is sung before and after the actual marriage pronunciation (and that kiss I imagine having been no less part of tradition then, than it is now).
Barbara Schlick and Guy de Mey (“Der Herr denket an uns” BWV 196 – its chorus appropriately one-voice-per-part), Bogna Bartosz (BWV 197) and Lisa Larsson (in the solo cantata “Weichet nur, betrübte Schatten” BWV 202) continue along the same high level with performances that only make me think of Bach, not alternative recordings. There is plenty heft and oomph in the choruses while all the drive expected from HIP recordings retained. Or try listen to Marcel Ponseele’s oboe part in BWV 202 without closing your eyes enraptured. For a disc of Wedding Canatas (only BWV 210 is not included among the complete extant Wedding Canatas), this makes a very fine choice. As an introduction to Koopman’s Bach it would be even more recommendable with more generous liner notes or at a lower price.
The disc with Canatas for Marian Feasts contains “Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern” BWV 1, “Mit Fried und Freud ich fahr dahin” BWV 125, and “Komm, du süße Todesstunde” BWV 161. Soprano Deborah York (1), altos Bogna Bartosz (125) and Elisabeth von Magnus (161), tenors Jörg Dürmüller (125) and Paul Agnew (1, 161), and of course Klaus Mertens (1, 125) offer singing at a high, if not exalted, level throughout. In BWV 1 Masaaki Suzuki (volume 34 of the Canata Cycle on BIS) brings a greater sense of crispness and bloom and cleaner horns to the grand opening than does Koopman. I love Carolyn Sampson’s aria for Suzuki, but Mme. York’s voice, a more pointed instrument, has a very nice ring to it, too.
The tempos of both conductors are more or less similar, but wherever Suzuki takes a few seconds longer, I find his choice more convincing and Koopman ever so slightly rushed. Only notable in direct comparison, but notable all the same – not the least in the concluding chorale “Wie bin ich doch so herzlich froh”, where the orchestra and continuo harpsichord is weighed equally on the BIS recording but recessed and dominated by the Amsterdam Baroque Choir in Challenge Classics recording.
Suzuki’s volume 32 allows for comparison between his and Koopman’s BWV 125. The biggest difference here is the alto aria “Ich will auch mit gebroch’nen Augen” in which Koopman leaves mezzo/alto Bogna Bartosz much more time than the quicker Suzuki allows his counter-tenor Robin Blaze. Even if I liked Blaze’s voice more than I do, my choice would still be Bartosz here, just as I prefer the more nimble tenor-bass duet “Ein unbegreiflich Licht erfüllt” under Koopman.
Similar reasons might make Elisabeth von Magnus’ opening aria “Komm, süße Todesstunde” in BWV 161 more attractive than Michael Chance’s with the otherwise splendid Purcell Quartet recording (Chandos), while the large tenor aria (“Mein Verlangen is den Heilan zu umfangen”) is in good hands with either Michael Chance (Purcell) or Agnew (Koopman). Because this cantata is sparsely orchestrated, there is much less difference between the two contrasting HIP styles of the radical one-voice-per-part (”OVPP”) Purcell Quartet (with minimal orchestral forces; four strings, two recorders and obbligato organ here) and Koopman’s, who is among the least dogmatic original instrument Bach conductors.
The difference is obvious again with the chorus and concluding chorale. Four voices for a chorus are not much to begin with – but for a chorale they are downright skimpy. As well as the voices of the singers on the Chandos recording blend, at least the chorale could have used a bit more heft. Koopman uses his small choir, seemingly unchanged, for both chorus and chorale and takes them at a much quicker clip. A satisfying disc for anyone who hasn’t yet added these cantatas to their collection.
Friday, 8.15.08, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
The Cellos Suites, Bach – Post Scriptum
"New Releases" posts are regular columns that feature reviews of new CDs that are, for one reason or another, truly outstanding among the many I come across every month.
Bach’s music – specifically his Cello Suites – excites and enthuses necessarily. And the extraordinary recordings of Jean-Guihen Queyras (Harmonia Mundi) and – brand new – Sebastian Klinger (Oehms) further contribute to making over two hours of non-stop solo cello unusually entertaining. Both sway the ears with impeccable technique and a wonderfully caught, natural tone. Klinger (on a 1736 Camillus Camilli) more by means of dynamism and flexing his well oiled muscles – Queyras (on a 1696 Gioffredo Cappa) with beautifully controlled ardor.
Queyras, the former cellist of the Ensemble Intercontemporain, has already made a name for himself outside of France with performances and wonderful recordings – including Schubert’s Arpeggione with Alexandre Tharaud and the Dvořák Cello Concerto, where he put one of the most moving slow movements on record down. Klinger, a student of Heinrich Schiff’s and Boris Pergamenschikow’s, became the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra’s first solo cellist at 27 and is of yet unknown to most American concert going audiences. Judging from this recording, that will soon change… if his orchestral duties permit the occasional tour as soloist.
Both recordings are similar in many ways – superior technical quality, rich tone, generous acoustic (both were recorded in a church), tempos – but Klinger uses a six-stringed cello for the last Suite, which makes for a slightly calmer, more fragile impression and at 420 hertz Klinger also uses a slightly lower than usual tuning for a less edgy and, well, ‘high-strung’, sound. That points to Klinger having absorbed many lessons from the ‘Historically Informed’ school, even if his interpretation is decidedly not “HIP”. (Peter Wispelwey would be the choice for that.)
Anyone who wants to place a modern recording next to their Pierre Fournier in their collection but shies away from the wilful individualism of Gavriel Lipkind will be exceedingly well served by either of these interpretations.
The Bach Cello Suites – Part I
The Bach Cello Suites – Part II
Thursday, 8.7.08, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
iPod with a Bach-addiction
"New Releases" posts are regular columns that feature reviews of new CDs that are, for one reason or another, truly outstanding among the many I come across every month.
In listening to music, there is a time for acoustic indulgence in hi-fi sound and there is a time for mobility and convenience. A good stereo system – perhaps including a Super Audio CD player – by Accuphase, NAD, Marantz, or even T+A is terrific, given the space, budget, and time to house, afford, and enjoy it. But when traveling something small and light is necessary; and because even a couple dozen CDs take up valuable space and weight, digital media players are the way to go.
Among those, the iPod reigns supreme – and for its ease of use and sleek looks, rightly so. At reasonable compression rates (min. 192kbps, better 320kbps) or by transferring music “losslessly”, the difference between CDs and their digital copy becomes negligible for most ears, assuming you have good headphones. (Keep your hands off any equalizer or bass-boost functions, which only have a detrimental effect on the sound.) Since headphones can make all the difference between a fatiguing listening experience of ‘soggy’ music and a crisp sound with a decent bass-extension, the headphone choice is much more important for sound quality than the choice of digital media player. If you invest in good music, you may as well invest a little extra to hear it well, too.
The best headphones for portable devices are “in the ear” or “ear canal” phones. They don’t sit on the ear like regular headphones or ear-buds, they have to be pushed into the ear, sealing your ear canal. (The fit is easier to get used to than it sounds, but it may not be for everyone.) One notable advantage is passive noise cancellation, (the blocking out of environmental noises) – particularly convenient when traveling. Because they use the ear canal for resonance, in-the-ear phones also have a much stronger bass response, making plucked double basses and brass actually audible. And because these headphones tend to be at the upper end of the quality scale, there are no problems with distortion (< 0.1%) and the level of detail is higher than most good speakers can offer.
(As listeners catch on to the advantages of in-the-ear headphones and the demand for them rises, more and more companies offer more and more choices. I favor the Etymotic ER6i which works extremely well even with the weakest portable players because of their extremely low impedance (16 Ohms). Another industry veteran is Shure, with a wide range of different models. Sennheiser, one of the best makers of regular headphones, has entered the fray with the CX300 model and now offers the IE 8 (also 16 ohms impedance) as their top of the line model.)
But what if you’re not really interested in getting an iPod to begin with? What if the allure of convenience is outweighed by the certainly cumbersome, possibly overwhelming task of transferring your music to an mp3 player? You wouldn’t be the first hold-out to resist mobile music convenience, especially among classical music lovers. Now what if there was something better than just an empty iPod? What if there was a BachPod*?!
Well, that’s just what hänssler CLASSIC has issued in collaboration with Apple: a black (anthracite, actually) 80 GB iPod**, with the complete works of Bach already on it, and an additional 40,000 minutes to fill.
Hänssler’s “Edition Bachakademie” was, along with Teldec’s “Bach 2000” set, the first complete recording of Bach’s known works. There is more competition now – especially via Brilliant’s inexpensive box – but of complete sets, hänssler’s is still the most even, the one with the most highlights. Helmut Rilling’s complete cantatas – the center of the set – are not historically informed performances (HIP), but the singers are excellent (they include Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, Christoph Prégardien, Thomas Quasthoff, and Christine Schäfer) and the playing – occasionally meaty – is so good that only hardened purists wouldn’t find great enjoyment in them. Rilling’s great sacred works (Mass in B-minor, the Passions, and the Christmas Oratorio) are among the best non-HIP recordings there are, and the orchestral works – including the restored oboe concertos – warm and impassioned. The violin concertos with Isabelle Faust and Christoph Poppen are a special delight.
The instrumental works don’t follow any particular ideology. Keyboard works are played on the piano (Evegeni Koroliov – whose Goldberg Variations are among my favorite recordings on piano; Robert Levin in the English Suites; and Edward Aldwell) as well as the harpsichord (Robert Hill – a great Art of the Fugue!; Peter Watchorn – wonderful Toccatas; and Trevor Pinnock). Dmitry Sitkovtesky, Boris Pergamenschikov and Hille Perl take the solo violin, cello, and lute works – very attractive recordings all, even as second, third, or fourth versions.
All that has now been shrunk to four by two inches and less than five ounces. And, in case a technical glitch damages or erases any of the music, hänssler includes the complete works for upload on three backup DVDs. If this most convenient method of all-Bach, all-the-time doesn’t win classical converts to the iPod, what will?
* Since Apple objects to the use of pretty much any word in combination with “pod”, the official name is now “Digital Bachedition with 3 DVDs, preloaded on an Apple iPod CLASSIC”.
**The digital Bach Edition is compressed at 128 kbs aac (Apple Standard); not ideal but an acceptable compromise.