Wednesday, 8.26.09, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
Mieczysław Karłowicz’ Tone Poems
"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.
For his op.9 tone poem, Powracająe fale (“Recurring Waves”), Mieczysław Karłowicz (born in 1876) sipped generously from the Wagner goblet. Tannhäuser, specifically, and a few segments are so reminiscent of that overture—others of music from Das Rheingold—as to border the comical. That said, it’s also all very lush and beautiful, as it should be, with those kinds of models. My friend and colleague Bob McQuiston, who first brought Karłowicz to my attention, called Recurring Waves a “gorgeously melancholic work, reportedly the product of Karlowicz’s preoccupation with suicide. “ The same could be said of Smutna opowieść (“A Sorrowful Tale”), op.13, and the Odwieczne pieśni (“Eternal Songs”), op.10.
Influenced by the neo-romantic school and especially works of Wagner and Richard Strauss during his studies in Berlin from 1895 to 1901, Karłowicz created his violin concerto (Tasmin Little and Nigel Kennedy have recorded it for Hyperion and EMI, respectively), several opera of songs, a string serenade, and six of these symphonic poems. The last had to be finished by Grzegorz Fitelberg after Karłowicz died in an avalanche, skiing in the Tatra Mountains, 100 years ago on February 8th. (What a fittingly ironic end for a fatalistic pantheist.)
Ears intoned to the type of music Karłowicz wrote will find that the music is much, much better than it is original—which is to say: well worth hearing even if it reminds of better known names that lurk behind every fourth bar. Especially the works that came after op.9 are superior in that they integrate their outside influences (Richard Strauss is all over “Stanisław and Anna Oświecim”) much more organically. The Lithuanian Rhapsody might represent a dip in inventiveness along that upward trajectory, but its billowing, vaguely Scandinavian romanticism is a soothing contrast to the red-meat sound world of Wagner ÷ (Brahms + Scriabin) found elsewhere.
These DUX recordings that contain all six tone poems are (anniversary?) re-releases, but they are no less welcome for bringing them together on one two-CD set. They have also been recorded for Naxos, but the direct competition comes from Yan Pascal Tortelier and Gianandrea Noseda with the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra, whose Chandos recordings were largely responsible for making Karłowicz’ name better known in the West. Not having heard the 1981/83 radio recordings of the Silesian Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra under Jerzy Salwarowski before, I had considered the Chandos recordings a natural front runner, not the least for their very present sound. Alas, these forces perform with the unalloyed enthusiasm of playing original, truly meaningful music (even where it isn’t), the playing is scarcely inferior to the BBC band (remarkable, given that they are live performances), and the sound is good.
There are moments that warrant enthusiastic recommendation, others that wish to caution against too-high expectations. If you get excited about Marx, Madetoja, or Alfvén, this should be up your alley. 
Monday, 8.24.09, 6:00 am
CD Pick of the Week: Bach’s Orchestral Suites Reconstructed
Monica Hugget is one of the baroque music scene’s most cherished pioneer-veterans. Co-founder of the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra with Ton Koopman and founding member of the Academy of Ancient Music, she also worked with Trevor Pinnock and his English Concert and she has led Toronto-based Tafelmusik. She is currently the head of the Portland Baroque Orchestra, the Ireland Baroque Orchestra and of course the Ensemble Sonnerie which she founded, then still a Trio, in 1982.
When someone like Monica Huggett brings out a recording of Bach’s Orchestral Suites it’s a notable event, not the least because new and exciting recordings of the Suites—or Concert-Ouvertures—are rather more scarce than new recordings of the Brandenburg- or Keyboard Concertos. It’s also notable because Mme. Huggett goes her own ways in reconstructing those three suites that we only have in transcriptions from now-lost-originals. The b-minor Suite is transposed back into its original key of a-minor and the solo flute replaced by an oboe—a version for which Huggett argues persuasively in her liner notes, and much more persuasively still through the performance. The Third and Fourth Suite don’t receive their Trumpet’n’Drums treatment, which are later adaptations. At least that’s according to Joshua Rifkin, whose argumentation Huggett follows where it makes not just theoretical, but also musical sense.
So many new aspects to these Suites then—but their gorgeous familiarity is overwhelming to the point where we scarcely notice the differences, except in direct comparison. (And who listens to music like that?) But even just for the music itself—Bach’s most easily enjoyable, this disc is a little gem. With three violins per section, the HIP crew of Ensemble Sonnerie (performing on period instruments and at standard baroque pitch of 415 Hz), doesn’t fall into the skinny-extreme trend-trap, but listens to what makes for the best balance among instruments. A sound decision, as it were. And Gonzalo Ruiz’ gorgeous oboe tone alone, given unique prominence in the reconstruction of BWV 1067—might justify adding this Bach disc to one’s collection, even if it already contains the equally fine Boston Baroque, English Baroque Soloists, or Musica Antiqua Cologne versions.
The recording, conveniently on one disc, was released on Avie last month and is this week’s Classical WETA CD Pick (Week of August 24, 2009).
Monday, 8.17.09, 5:00 am
The Women of Vivaldi
The Turin Vivaldi Edition is now operating for ten years and the beautiful women that look at us from its 36 (of 41) covers are a testament to the virility of the classical music recording industry. I’ve written about the edition and its allure before, and it’s been a while since I’ve last heard frowny complaints about the covers from high-minded classical lovers who thought that the lasses had nothing to do with Vivaldi and were therefore a cheap marketing gimmick. Apart from the fact there is probably nothing cheap or inexpensive about these very carefully and imaginatively prepared Denis Rouvre photographs, I’ve always found that pure visual beauty* very much had a place on the cover of a CD that offered such aural beauty. That beauty—and the instant association of extraordinary quality with the series’ distinctive look—probably has won all baroque lovers, including the sceptical ones, over.
The National University Library of Turin contains Vivaldi’s own archive; more than 450 works. (Safely preserved on microfiche, they are casually allowed to erode away.) More scores, copies, and fragements are found every year all around Europe. The Vivaldi Edition, which started on the op111 label that has since been folded into the naïve label, has been most noted for its opera recordings (Vivaldi boasted of 94, of some four dozen the libretti have been preserved, and of 16 we have the scores), but the edition also records Vivaldi’s oratorios, sacred works, chamber- and instrumental music. The performers are among the new Italian (though also French and German) baroque ensemble elite that has put Italy back on the map as a country of performing groups worth listening to. Concerto Italiano and Il Giardino Armonico are among the most established of this new generation, but the Modo Antiquo- and Zefiro Ensembles, and Accademia Bizantina, too, are miles away from what Philips et al. passed off as “Italian Baroque” in the 70s.
Add to that the French Ensemble Matheus , Jordi Savall’s Le Concert des Nations, and the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra and you have a very fine roster, indeed. Individual reactions to the different conductors—Alfredo Bernardini , Rinaldo Alessandrini, Federico Sarelli, Jean-Chrstophe Spinosi, Givoanni Antonini, and Ottavio Dantone among them—differ, naturally, but the attained average is incredibly high. So it comes as no surprise that Diego Fasolis and I Barrocchisti, who perform a third tranche of violin concertos on volume 40 of the Vivaldi Edition, live up to that standard. Not at all incidentally, “Concerti per violin III – ‘Il Ballo’” is Classical WETA’s CD Pick of this week [Week of August 17, 2009]. For your Vivaldi-violin-concerto-fill beyond the Four Seasons—whether via radio, CD, or download—violinist Duilio M. Galfetti’s virtuosic sparkle makes for a most entertaining choice. And, if you’ve so far resisted the beguiling ladies from Turin, it makes a fine introduction to this series.
* Incidentally, Rouvre’s working title for this particular series of photographs is “Beauty”.
Thursday, 8.13.09, 6:00 am
No Composer Left Behind
Left-handed people have it difficult. They have an International Lefthanders Day—today—but they still can’t buy a can opener that will work for them. The discrimination, admittedly, has receded significantly from the days when left handed kids were forcefully ‘converted’, no matter the consequences. But remaining lefties were still in the 70s thought of as somehow inferior. All that’s rather surprising, given the enormous talent and political clout this roughly 8+ percent strong minority has brought forth. (All but two of the last seven Presidents were left handed—and still never an executive order on the availability of left-handed butter knifes?)
But the declaration of the anomaly of left-handedness as something inferior must go back very far, as it is ingrained in almost every language (even those that aren’t written from left to right, which would perhaps have been a telling detail). In a lovely essay in Die Welt, Theo Semmler collects some of these etymological roots of “right=good” and “left=evil”. The word “right” apparently comes from the Indo-European root “reg-“ from which can be derived words like “reign” and “straight”. Eastern languages have the common root “provo”, where ‘rightness’ (pravyi) is related to truth (pravda) and “pravo”, which can mean a host of positive adjectives (title, freedom, liberty, power, right, law, faculty…). The Romanesque languages take their cue from the Latin “directum/dirigire” (to make straight). “Droit” for the French, “derecho” for the Spanish.
The roots for left-handedness, meanwhile, are all pejorative. The British boast the classy colloquial “cack-handed”, the etymology of which I prefer to skip. The Latin root is “sinistra”, but that didn’t keep the Spanish from adopting the foreign—Basque—“izquierda”. “Half-handed”. And the left handed person is a “zurdo” – a “southpaw”; not too far from “ruffian”. And Heinrich Himmler—had it not been so real this would have a touch of comically absurd evil to it—stipulated research into the link of left-handedness and the “mental deficiency” of homosexuals.
Lists of “famous left-handed people” can be googled with ease, and they make for good trivia. The purpose of this little International Lefthanders Day tribute is to showcase my favorite left-handed music. Not music for, but by the left hand. (If you are looking for Paganini in vain, it’s because I wanted to include only composers that made left-handed people proud.)
There is Mozart, of course. Allegedly left-handed, possibly ambidextrous (= “two right hands”). I’ve not found evidence that he was, in fact, left-handed (he would very likely have been converted, anyway), but he is so often mentioned among the famous left-handed that I might as well include him. It would be particularly poignant to highlight a recording with left-handed Glenn Gould (the Stockholm performance of Concerto no.24!), but my favorite Mozart recording—judging from what instantly came to mind—is Rene Jacob’s Così fan tutte.
And there is Beethoven, and with him we know from Anton Schindler, his reasonably reliable biographer and “unpaid secretary”, that he was left-handed. Maurizio Pollini’s recording of the last five Piano Sonatas is Beethoven to me, in all his left-handed glory.
My favorite Robert Schumann is a very recent recording: Carolin Widmann’s and Dénes Várjon’s Violin Sonatas get us in touch with the two personalities of Schumann: from glorious vitality to darkly teetering on the edge. I can take or leave (especially leave) a good amount of the left-handed composer Rachmaninoff’s output, but I can’t be without Martha Argerich’s recording of the Third Piano concerto and—more importantly—Boris Berezovsky’s Préludes. Rachmaninoff-as-Chopin: who would have thought it could work so marvelously? It’s the recording that has ended my previously troubled relationship with opp.23 and 32.
Ravel is counted among the left-handed composers, too, and what fine coincidence that my favorite Ravel recording consists of his concerto for… left hand. It comes with the more famous concerto for both, and Krystian Zimerman provides all three (hands), accompanied by Pierre Boulez and the Cleveland (ambidextrous) and London (left) Symphony Orchestras. Sergei Prokofiev, not a great fan of Pravda, and left-handed: I love his Ninth Piano Sonata from 1913. Smoothly powerful, like a Turkish wrestler with oiled muscles (quite different from Richter), it is Alexei Lubimov who provides the Prokofiev moment I enjoy most on his superb disc titled “Messe Noire”.
In light of all this magnificence, one is left wondering.
Wednesday, 8.12.09, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
Ton Koopman and Bach’s Missae Breves
"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.
I’ve been sitting on these recordings for quite a while now, unsure quite how to justify the praise I was ready to heap upon Ton Koopman’s recording of Bach’s Latin Masses. I dabbled in the scores, glanced over their history, and finally (re-)acquainted with alternative recordings that I had not heard or not heard in a while. These works, which go by several names (Missae Breves, Lutheran Masses, or, as here on Ton Koopman’s two-CD set, lumped together under the category “Latin Church Music”), have not enjoyed as much attention as the Cantatas or the B-minor Mass because they are almost entirely parodies of other Bach works. Unjustly so, for they are, if anything, further refinements of existing masterpieces. A “Best of Bach” compilation by the master himself, if you will.
We know four of six parts from the Mass in F (BWV 233) from Cantatas BWV 102 and BWV 40. (The other two are probably from one or more lost cantatas, rather than being original—but are de facto original to our ears.) All six parts of the Masses in A (BWV 234), g (BWV 235) and G (BWV 236) occur elsewhere, namely in the Cantatas BWV 67, 72, 79 (twice), 102, 136, 138, 179 (also twice), and 187. Koopman also throws in the chorus from the Sanctus of BWV 232 III (from what would later become the Mass in B-minor), the Gloria BWV 191, and the Magnificat BWV 243.
Like the Missa (BWV 232a), the short masses are, well, cut short. Short masses in the Lutheran context means just going for the Kyrie and Gloria, skipping the Credo, Sanctus/Benedictus, and Agnus Dei. (In the Catholic setting it usually just means skipping the Credo which, even where it is composed, is rarely performed as part of the service; being instead replaced by a Gregorian chant.) The four short masses are different from the ‘Dresden job-application’ “Missa” in that they are of more modest size, comparable to the cantatas, not the passions. Christoph Wolff, in the abbreviated liner notes (alas, no texts) that made it from volume 22 of his complete cycle into this convenient extraction, points out that the masses gave Bach “the opportunity to broaden his audience by including the Catholic court. But perhaps most importantly it let him extract from his large cantata repertoire some exemplary movements that, placed in a new context, would showcase his art of composition in a different, indeed enhanced way.”
The more widely recorded and performed Magnificat was Bach’s first large scale work after his move from Köthen to Leipzig (1723), written for the Marian Feast and later revised to modernize the scoring. The Sanctus (1724) predates even the Missa (1733) and is the oldest part of what would be the Mass in B-minor. And the Gloria, written between 1743 and 1746, was intended for a Christmas Day performance, the exact circumstances of which are not yet known. Wolff suggests the peace treaty between Saxony and Prussia on that day in 1745. In it, Bach leans on the Missa for three movements. They are all performed as well as the short masses—and those are top drawer.
The performances kindled in me an instant love for these works. Comparison to two of my favorite Bach conductors—Philippe Herreweghe (Virgin) and Konrad Junghänel (Harmonia Mundi) confirmed their excellence. I might not prefer Jörg Dürmüller over Christoph Pregardien (Herreweghe) in the G-major Mass, but Koopman’s other soloists (Deborah York, Johannette Zomer, Bogna Bartosz, Klause Mertens) leave nothing to be desired and his choir excels at all times. I also prefer Koopman’s usually swifter tempos compared to both, Herreweghe and Junghänel. And I prefer—marginally—the sound of the Challenge Classics recording (direct, but with a glow) over the slightly recessed resonance of Herreweghe and Harmonia Mundi’s captured sound (also direct, but minus that glow). One should not forget the marvelous Purcell Quartet’s recording (Chandos); one of their earlier forays into Bach and at the time still radical for being One-Voice-per-Part. But even if I could somehow replace the Purcell’s counter tenor Robin Blaze with alto Bogna Bartosz, Koopman would remain my favorite account of these splendid works.
Sunday, 8.9.09, 6:00 am
New Releases: CDs
Sigiswald Kuijken and Bach Cantatas
"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.
Over the last years of listening to the various Bach Cantata cycles, whether ongoing, complete, or partial, my reactions to them is beginning to fit a pattern: Suzuki—curious disappointment despite highlights. John Elliot Gardiner—highest expectations not quite met. Philippe Herreweghe—uncommon delight. Ton Koopman—modest recollection far exceeded. The Purcell Quartet—lightweight enchantment. And now there’s the One-Voice-per-Part, 1-year Bach Cantata cycle by Sigiswald Kuijken on Accent SACDs which has just reached volume 8. I love it.
That surprises even me, actually. While my enjoyment of Bach is not ideologically bound to any performance theory—I like my Mass in B-Minor as much with Karl Richter as I do with Jos van Veldhoven, for example—I do agree with the likes of Koopman and Gustav Leonhardt that OVPP is at best occasionally, ‘accidentally’ correct. (OVPP also has, as Leonhardt points out, economic advantages, as tempting now as they might have been in Bach’s time. Which reminds me of what Rosalyn Tureck once quipped to a colleague. Asked about the same subject the squinted and replied: “Josh [Rifkin]? Ah, he just wants to save money.”)
In any case, performances driven primarily by ideology, not musical sense, might not sound as good as music-making that comes from the heart, even if it flies in the face of current conventions. That’s where Duke Ellington’s dictum—a sort of musical Ockam’s razor—comes in: “If it sounds good, it is good.” And Kuijken’s Bach is very good, indeed.
I came to the series at volume 5 (“Geist und Seele wird verwirret” with cantatas 179, 35, 164, and 17), which remains a favorite. Tellingly, I now have all volumes that came before and those that have come since, too. Stylistically there is fairly little that Kuijken has in common with Koopman. What reminds me of Koopman, though, is how these productions are so much more than any individual performance might indicate. Not that his soloists Gerlinde Samann (soprano), Petra Noskaiová (alto), and Jan Van der Crabben (bass) are not very good. They are; they have no notable weaknesses, the bass arias are stupendous. And Christoph Ganz is a tenor who could grace any Bach Cantata recording and likely improve it. But it’s never a particular performance—either among the singers or of an instrumentalist (like the flutist in BWV 13)—who carries the performance. It’s the spirit of the whole affair that carries you along, putting to rest any desire for comparative listening. (The latter being the tool of choice when having to say negative-or sometimes positive-things about a disc that leaves no particular or a bland impression.)
How about the chorales and choruses? Nothing ever sounds weak or trimmed down. Suzuki, who uses greater forces, often leaves me with the curious dissatisfaction of something not being quite sufficiently present. The audiophile-worthy, very close recording on these Accent discs does its part to ensure that. And because of the aforementioned quality of the voices, none of the soloists stick out—either below or above the very high average. Bach-lovers who don’t take into consideration how many versions they already have of any given piece will put this very high on their wish lists. Anyone being introduced to Bach—especially with hi-fi ambitions—can safely be guided to this particular recording, or indeed any in this series. And those looking for individual cantatas might want to stop by and see if Kuijken doesn’t just provide for them what they had been yearning for all along.
Monday, 8.3.09, 6:00 am
August in Music
If June means a cultural drought for Washington, August spells famine. Those who haven’t fled to the cultural silos of Salzburg or Santa Fe or any of the other numerous summer festivals of the near and far abroad, will have few options—a highlights among which is for example Gabriela Montero’s appearance with the Youth Orchestra of the Americas at the Music Center at Strathmore on Friday, August 7th (8PM). The craze for youth orchestras caused in good part by the Venezuelan “Youth” Orchestra helps marketing the conveniently inexpensive youngster bands. That’s all good, since a spirited youth Orchestra (whether the National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain, the Mahler Jugendorchester, or the Juilliard Symphony Orchstra) is much more fun proposition to hear than when a professional orchestra performs dutifully, with bored faces and no more zest than an accountant yearning for a career change. (All of which is said to happen from time to time with otherwise very fine orchestras. Especially in mainstay repertoire and around or during holiday season.) Benjamin Zander, who knows a thing or two about Youth Orchestras, will lead the performances which include Bernstein’s Candide Overture, Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, and Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto to plow through for Mlle. Montero.
La Bohème at Wolf Trap is something very, err, special and certainly memorable. I had the (dubious) pleasure in 2004 and haven’t forgotten much about it. Musically, I find it the equivalent of one of those prank gifts you can buy at a dollar store. But then there’s a time and place (and a market) for ice cubes with bees inside, and sweltering summers at Wolf Trap are just it. The summer version of the NSO and the Wolf Trap Opera Company, conducted by Stephen Lord, are performing at the Filene Center on Friday, August 7th (8.15PM)
Alessio Bax is a very promising young pianist (winner of the 2000 Leeds Intl. Piano Competition) who has played a few times in the region. I last heard him at the Phillips Collection as part of a piano duo. He will play a program of Brahms and Rachmaninoff at Ward Recital Hall, Catholic University. The recital is part of the Washington International Piano Festival. Saturday, August 15th (4PM).
When fewer things go on, worthy performances otherwise easily overlooked get their due. Like the free organ recitals at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. Two look particularly intriguing, the first being on Sunday, August 16th (6PM), when Max Kenworthy and Nicholas Grigby play the organ with altogether eight limbs in a jumble of bound-to-be-entertaining transcriptions that span 300 years and go from Handel and Bach to 20th century marches via Wagner, Finzi, and Fauré.
This isn’t technically a musical event as much as it is a cinematic one, but since it’s good to see (and hear) live music even when its role is strictly an accompanying one, it makes sense to mention that there will be a HD screening of the second part of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, “The Two Towers”. The music will be provided “by symphony orchestra” (a.k.a. “pick-up band”), and the film projected on “huge screens” in-house and on the lawn of the Wolf Trap’s Filene Center. There will be a free pre-performance discussion with WETA’s own Deb Lamberton an hour before both shows. Friday, August 28th and Saturday August 29th (7:30PM).
The other organ recital at the Basilica is one with the very fine organist Jeremy Filsell who puts an improvised organ symphony (which Filsell transcribed and which now goes by “Symphonie Improvisée”) by 20th century French organ-romantic Pierre Cocherau at the center of his (equally free) concert. Sunday, August 30th (6PM).