Recording Review #77: Bertrand Chamayou Performs the Complete Mendelssohn Songs Without Words (Erato)

 

Mendelssohn: Songs Without Words (complete cycle). Bertrand Chamayou, pianist. Erato 2756801961.

The press release for this recording features the following remarks from Bertrand Chamayou: “Mendelssohn’s Songs without Words are very well known, yet little known at the same time. There are 48 of them in all, but fewer than ten of them feature regularly in concert programmes.” He's onto something. There are not as many recorded cycles of the Songs as you might think. More pointedly, I can recommend none without at least a couple of reservations. Individual selections? I have favorites galore. But the entire traversal remains a tricky venture full of unexpected challenges.

If I had to put my finger on it, the main difficulty is that the Songs Without Words reward restraint and punish impulsivity. Their best qualities emerge under careful stewardship. This can be very difficult for the contemporary pianist to pull off. It's not over-simplifying things to say that every piece here requires grace and elegance...even the ostensibly stormy numbers. These qualities can be counterintuitive for Romantic repertoire, which is why you hear so many performances that better suit Liszt or Schumann. I fear we live in a world inhospitable to Mendelssohn's refinement. Bombast and pathology are much more our wavelengths. 

Ideally, then, the performer would demonstrate an "able and willing" dynamic: are they able to supply sufficient warmth and elegance of tone, and willing to submit to interpretive self-discipline? Bertrand Chamayou is certainly able, but it's that last inch of "willing" which for me ever so slightly tarnishes an otherwise excellent venture. Simply put, he occasionally overplays some of the quicker selections. There is sometimes a Schumannesque freneticism that, even in small amounts, quickly begins to burden these pieces. Perhaps the clearest example is the first time it happens: Op. 30/4. Here Mendelssohn sets a cruel trap for the pianist. Whereas Op. 30/2 is likewise on the virtuosic side, it only comes with the tempo indication Allegro di molto while starting quietly. But Op. 30/4 is also quick and starts quietly, yet additionally sports an Agitato e con fuoco direction. To many pianists this direction, combined with the piece's sf and con fuoco indications, is irresistible temptation to "let 'er rip!" But notice the slurring; Mendelssohn still wants the pianist to craft smooth phrases. Moreover, most of the sf indications deliberately come with initial or other strong beats. These subtleties are in place precisely to prevent the spasming into which Chamayou sometimes slips. Comparing Mendelssohn's rhythmic and articulative patterns to Schumann's much more idiosyncratic ones is to experience night and day. (For a good alternative, behold how well Daniel Adni walks the Op. 30/4 tightrope. EMI 724356935228.)

Actually, Chamayou doesn't always need a con fuoco marking to let 'er rip. The famous Op. 67/2, for example, doesn't have one...just a modest Allegro leggiero. To hear his interpretation, it might as well say Agitato. Again, the conception is a bit too frenetic. Similar things could be said for Op. 38/1-2, Op. 67/4, and Op. 85/3, to varying degrees. None of this (not even Op. 30/4) sinks the entire cycle, not by a long shot. But it's the kind of frustrating caveat that prevents full-throated enthusiasm - a common refrain when evaluating available Songs Without Words recordings.

But make no mistake: this is one of the best ones. Chamayou's greatest assets include not only the warmth of tone I was asking for earlier, but also pristine dynamic and articulative command. When he applies them well, he's as good as anyone. The entireties of Op. 19b and Op. 102 are smoothly satisfying, as are highlights like Op. 30/1 and Op. 53/1; I don't think I've heard better. And most interestingly, with pieces like Op. 53/2 and Op. 62/5 Chamayou proves that he can exercise the kind of restraint I find compromised in Op. 30/4 etc. One other misstep bears mentioning, however: the famous "Spring Song" (Op. 62/6). The frilly accompaniment here sounds oddly crimped, and out of keeping with Chamayou's finest instincts. Just another execution foible in repertoire that peculiarly elicits them. 

I can't overly fault Chamayou for succumbing to pitfalls that encumber nearly everyone else. Indeed, he does so considerably less. The more interpretations one samples, the taller his stand. Clunky, overplayed offerings abound. Which naturally begs the difficult question of a gold standard. Probably the one most often touted as such is Daniel Barenboim on DG (453 061-2). I understand why - he seems to best balance performer personality with baseline elegance. But given what I've argued above, I'm still throwing in with Daniel Gortler on Roméo Records (7273/4). It's not a perfect cycle, but it most consistently preserves the music's precious qualities, which are especially vulnerable to misjudgment. That said, it's nice to have a new option that I can mention in the very next breath. 

Verdict: Highly Recommended 

Quick Takes: Batch #6 (Hough/Various, Sibelius, Women and the Piano, Prokofiev)

Stephen Hough's Piano Postcards. Hyperion CDA68469. 

I first listened to this back in July, and I'm STILL humming some of its music to myself in October. Clearly it made an impression on me. Indeed, I think it's absolutely delightful. Hough has essentially said that he wants to bring back the piano transcription as a respected art form. What a breath of fresh air in a classical world that can still feel stuffy! As Charles Rosen wrote in The Romantic Generation, the transcription genre enables special creativity, even genius, in the hands of a great proponent like Liszt. Hough definitely demonstrates some of this, with an uncanny ability to discover unsuspected expressive possibilities in simple, even unassuming tunes. Certain classical listeners might disdain choosing melodies from Mary Poppins or Frozen for such treatment. But Hough's gentle elaborations on them exude a special pathos that keeps me hitting "repeat." Add to his own scores some excellent performances of miniatures from around the map, and you have a real winner. One of my favorite releases of the year! Verdict: Highly Recommended

Sibelius: The 7 Symphonies. Jukka-Pekka Saraste, conductor; Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra. Ondine ODE15252T. 

I had intended to do a longer write-up of this set either here or at Classical Candor. But I finally decided to offer more cursory impressions. Much is impressive about Saraste's third recorded Sibelius symphony cycle. The expressive highs can be excellent, as with the climactic points of the First and Second Symphonies, and the "Swan Theme" at the end of the Fifth. Parts of the Fourth are stunningly luminous. These performances are together Saraste's most interesting ones committed to disc. But they're also the fussiest. Too many passages, especially in the Sixth and Seventh, are labored. His first cycle's Third Symphony on RCA (Red Seal – 194397048124) is in my view the best ever. But this new one lacks its brisk suppleness; it begins to plod. I think overall Saraste is trying a bit too hard to make a statement with this set, like he knows it's a last hurrah or something. Sibelio-holics won't want to be without it, but I'll keep pushing the RCA mainstay for meat-and-potatoes listening. Verdict: Mildly Recommended

Women and the Piano. Susan Tomes, pianist. Hyperion CDA68489. 

I almost wish I hadn't read the press release for this recording. "During my whole pianistic education," Susan Tomes tells us, "no teacher ever suggested I learn a piece by a female composer." Then: "Their extraordinary individual stories are revealed in Tomes’s thoughtful and deeply researched notes, allowing us to glimpse—often for the first time—their profound talents." So there it is. More special pleading. More hyperbole and inspirational stories padding offerings of modest intrinsic interest. Another motley assemblage of pieces whose collective claim to attention lies with shared biology. Listening to this repertoire without the propaganda is a nice thought. But deep down both 'The Advocates' and I know it wouldn't make a huge difference. They try to convince themselves that the same sexism which denied these women opportunities while they lived is preventing their canonization today. But the harsh reality is that all of these works (by the usual suspects and others) are competent yet undistinguished. There was no Jane Austen of classical music, and contemporary over-claiming won't suddenly make it so. The zealots will gobble this recording up regardless of what I say. To the non-zealots I say the following: by all means partake of its pleasant, well-played fare. But I for one won't lie to you by saying it is something more. Verdict: Soberly Recommended

Prokofiev: Symphony No. 1 in D, Op. 25 ("Classical"); Chout, Op. 21. Stanislav Kochanovsky, conductor; NDR Radiophilharmonie. Harmonia Mundi HMM905406. 

Chout ("Buffoon") is Prokofiev's first completed ballet score. Perhaps surprisingly, this recording is only the fourth of the entire thing. Usually we encounter the 12-section suite, which I guess isn't that much of a step down from the 19 numbers included here. This work was a resume of sorts, one of the scores with which Prokofiev signaled engagement with trendier styles of the West. Still, it doesn't completely muzzle his personality. The signature driving rhythms, sardonic wit, and even glimpses of his incomparable tunefulness are all present and serve a rather twisted story. Its coupling with the much more familiar Classical Symphony is to my knowledge a first. The symphony, given a sparkling performance, rounds out the disc quite well. Both compositions date from approximately the same period in Prokofiev's career and show contrasting sides of his art. I enjoyed this very much. Verdict: Highly Recommended

Recording Review #76: Praiseworthy Pappano

Vaughan Williams: A Sea Symphony; Maconchy: Nocturne for Orchestra. Masabane Cecilia Rangwanasha, soprano; Will Liverman, tenor; Antonio Pappano, conductor; London Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. LSO Live LSO0910. 

Confession time: I don't get very excited about Vaughan Williams's Sea Symphony. It's too big and bloated for its material. Then there is the secular utopian Mumbo Jumbo by Walt Whitman, to which Vaughan Williams was excessively attracted. (To be fair, he once admitted that the American poet was "too fond of the smell of his own armpits.") But the Sea might be his most performed symphony, at least in the States. Reasons are not hard to find: it's manageable enough for amateur orchestras and choral societies, and it's a big non-sacred work in English. However, the reactions I witnessed (from both musicians and audience) after a local performance I oversaw echoed my own: nice enough, but probably not quite worth all of the effort. Next to absolute bangers like the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Symphonies, it just isn't especially compelling. 

Which means that when I call this Antonio Pappano performance with the LSO their best RVW symphony yet, I'm probably damning them with faint praise. If you trust my opinion as a Sea Symphony agnostic, I can tell you that this option is superbly balanced, exuberant, and (most importantly) keeps things moving along. This last point is absolutely crucial for the gangly outer movements. Nothing feels like Purgatory so much as sitting through a draggy "Explorers," which comes at the end of an already lengthy work and is starved for interest. But a sheeny homogeneity graces this performance, as if Pappano knows the middle two movements are the best but puts on a good face for the others. Vocal soloists Masabane Cecilia Rangwanasha and Will Liverman are also highly effective. They're two more bright spots in a maritime journey flecked with its fair share of doldrums.

The pairing with Elizabeth Maconchy's Nocturne for Orchestra continues a trend for the LSO Live label: presenting a better-known major work with a smaller, lesser-known one. They last did this with Copland's Third Symphony and the shorter Sinfonia No. 5 by George Walker. And rather dubiously, since the Walker piece has all the charm of a Moray Eel. I didn't know Maconchy's Nocturne beforehand, but I knew some of her other works and therefore braced myself. I needn't have worried. Here is one of Maconchy's better scores: atmospheric, beguiling, and most of all BEAUTIFUL. I didn't expect to be saying this, but it suffers little in comparison with her teacher's Sea Symphony. A terrific inclusion!

So, if you're a fan of the Sea Symphony, you won't need prompting from me to buy this recording. In my reckoning it's definitely one of the better ones, and maybe more. If you're a fan of both Vaughan Williams and Maconchy, all the more reason to acquire. 

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Recording Review #75: Raff the Repaying

Raff: Piano Suites Volume 2 (Nos. 2 and 4, Opp. 71 and 91). Hyelim Kim, pianist. Grand Piano GP958. 

I came to this recording thinking it would be a typical Joachim Raff venture: good but not great music I would enjoy in the moment and forget soon after. And...I was mostly right. But not entirely. Yeah, you get his usual mashups of Schumann, Liszt, and others. Maybe much or all of this stuff isn't going to be something I revisit super often. But there are some things in it that will stay with me. They well repaid the time I invested. 

These works are called "piano suites," which suggest series of miniatures. And that's what the Second Suite (Op. 71) is: modest character pieces that provide a breezy if undistinguished break from, say, Kinderszenen. But then you have the Fourth Suite (Op. 91), which gets a little more interesting. All of these numbers are longer than miniatures, some considerably so. The first is a Fantasia and Fugue, and the second is a Gigue with Variations...content you wouldn't normally expect to find in a simple suite. 

Which would be an interesting little anomaly all by itself. But then Raff saves some serious creative juice for his Op. 91. First, the fugue in the initial number shows masterful counterpoint. Personality aside, even great composers should be proud to write something so technically accomplished. This in a piano suite! Second, some of the material itself is compelling. The closing march, for instance, takes a fetching idea that, while stated and developed perhaps slightly excessively, is the basis for some genuinely rousing passages. I didn't expect this level of engagement when I first pressed play. 

So, will this repertoire replace Carnaval or the Songs Without Words in your affections? Maybe not. Will it add to your knowledge, appreciation, and pleasure? It definitely added to mine. The other positive is that you get to hear some fine pianism by Hyelim Kim, who gives these selections the sharp presentation they deserve. The whole thing takes fewer than 50 minutes to traverse. Go for it. 

Verdict: Recommended

Recording Review #74: Sticky Studies

Chopin: Études, Opp. 10 and 25; 3 Nouvelles études. Aaron Pilsan, pianist. Alpha Classics ALPHA1270. 

I don’t know who first said “there’s no such thing as bad publicity,” but they were onto something. If the internet age has taught us anything, it’s that the sheer power of turning heads is not to be taken lightly—and doing so often demands a dose (or more) of shock value, especially when being first to the party is long off the table. Take Chopin’s études. If Aaron Pilsan had cranked out just another polished, tame set to add to the legions already available, we would have little reason to notice.

Pianists lucky enough to live during the initial recording boom enjoyed the good fortune of setting standards. And while walking wonders like Yunchan Lim occasionally come along and reveal genuinely new ways to hear this music, most latter-day pianists struggle against a market saturation their forebears never faced. Being provocative is therefore a tempting recourse. In a world that insatiably craves novelty, those who ask whether an original take is actually worthwhile are often put on the back foot. After all, few want to come off close-minded.

But I’ll risk it. Because the distinction between hearing a masterpiece anew and hearing what a pianist dares to do to it is still a line worth drawing. And Pilsan's playing gives me the strong impression that he values this music chiefly for what he can do to it. To nearly every challenge these pieces present, he brings the same approach: a heavy, suffocating sound rife with smudgy pedaling. Several of the études explicitly call for lightness, but Pilsan does lightness only reluctantly and awkwardly. Most of the time we get a wash of sound that obscures textures and individual pitches, except for when he rather whimsically pounds out a subordinate line almost for "good measure." Everything is made worse by a recording that sounds as though the microphone were placed at a distance and wrapped in a blanket. A perfect tempest of soupiness.

It is difficult to know where to start identifying issues, or how many of them I can list without being tedious. But six full pages of listening notes call for abridgment, and a few low points do stand out even amidst a poor average. Putting it bluntly, Pilsan's Op. 10/6-7 are perhaps the worst recorded renditions I have ever heard. His E-Flat Minor is especially self-indulgent. The tempo is faster than it should be, but the repeated 16-note figure is almost irreverent in its lack of expressive softness. Chopin indicates con molta espressione and (specifically for the repeated figure) sempre legatissimo. But my reaction to how these notes were played was: "that sounds like a choir member belting out notes haphazardly on a rehearsal piano after practice." Nor did that impression ever soften. The following étude typifies the worst faults across the whole: muddy textures, little dynamic color, and a kind of studied messiness in articulation. He's doing this on purpose and it shows. 

An interesting footnote comes with Op. 10/3. Similar problems plague it here, but Pilsan does something worth its own mention: measures 30-31 and 34-35 feature a repeated melodic figure in the top voice. In earlier versions the figure goes unchanged from one measure to the next. Chopin later altered the repetition to descend a half-step the second time around. The later version is more expressive, chromatically consistent with the rest of the music, and rightly heard far more often. Pilsan plays the earlier, unaltered one. It's a small thing, perhaps, but just the kind of decision that makes me think he's about standing out more than anything. 

Pilsan's best études are naturally the ones most compatible with his schtick. While he still plays the "Aeolian Harp" (Op. 25/1) too heavily, the sheeny arpeggios in it somewhat match his "blurred sound" approach. Likewise, the "Winter Wind" (Op. 25/11) and the "Ocean" (Op. 25/12) merit praise above the mean because their accompanimental 'barrages' (both in the right and left hands) better accommodate him. Maybe the best number is unexpectedly the "Cello Étude" (Op. 25/7), where Pilsan crafts the bass melody with admirable artistry, and supplies its support with uncharacteristic delicacy. Alone among these Opp. 10 and 25 numbers would I put this interpretation on a playlist to revisit and enjoy. I guess now is a good time to say that the Nouvelles études also come off well, but only because Pilsan kind of treats them like an afterthought...as if they're not worth the usual abuse. Be thankful for small mercies?

So yes, I predict Pilsan will turn heads here, and even cash in on his audacity. Some of my fellow critics will gladly lap up what this album peddles. But I'm hopeful that, bright spots notwithstanding, the judgment of history will eventually put this recording in its proper place. If it takes a while for the novelty to wear off, and the consensus to be that plenty of alternatives dispatch these pieces with requisite grace (rather than mere idiosyncrasy), I'm happy to wait. 

Verdict: Not Recommended

Quick Takes: Batch #5 (Rubbra, Tüür, Haydn, Debussy, and Ireland)

Rubbra: Choral Music. Benjamin Hulett, tenor; François Cloete, organ; Benjamin Nicholas, conductor; Choir of Merton College, Oxford; Britten Sinfonia. Delphian DCD34332. 

These are excellent performances of sacred choral music etc. by Edmund Rubbra. The trouble is that, outside of church, university, and civic ensembles, the motet/mass genres don't exactly equate to public prestige. Opera and song have garnered the fanfare that evades these other vocal mediums. Additionally, Rubbra's music tends to suffer lesser popularity due to its gentle, priestly quality even in forceful moments. It's beautiful, even beguiling once you get accustomed to it. But it's not going to beat anyone over the head. For those interested in exploring his mystical world, and want to start with this disc, listen first to "Eternitie" from the Five Motets, Op. 37. This is a fantastic miniature that just may be your key to unlocking the other repertoire offered here. Rubbra's music deserves fans. If you listen to this and it's not your thing, by all means try something else. Verdict: Recommended.

Erkki-Sven Tüür: Phantasma; Symphony No. 10 "ÆRIS"; De Profundis. Olari Elts, conductor; Estonian National Symphony Orchestra. ECM New Series 2784. 

I pretty much guessed what I was getting into right before I tried this out of curiosity. Yep, more modernist noise. I mean, look at these titles. Pretension just drips off of them. I could rhetorically claim that I don't see the point of this music, but I actually do. I just don't think it's a very good point. This is all the usual hot air that goes on for far too long and contains nary a tune or anything else a non-dweeb can relate to whatsoever. It's stretches of sound clouds and architecture; in short, it's all concept. Unfortunately, Nordic composers born around a certain time were eager to show that they could "get beyond" Sibelius and Nielsen. They got beyond them, all right. But getting back would be an improvement. Verdict: Gross. 

Haydn: Baryton Trios Vol. 3 (Hob. XI:26, 50, 57, 72, 80, and 82). Valencia Baryton Project. Naxos 8.574708. 

I won't pretend to have heard all 120-odd baryton trios by Haydn. But once in a while I'll pull out a recording of 5 or 6 of them in the hope that one will imprint upon my heart and memory. It hasn't happened yet. Haydn may have used these works to please his employer and develop compositional skills. But who believes they contain any of his most inspired music? That isn't a slam against this recording or its musicians, who do a fine job with what they're given. It simply means that if you're like me, you'll value what's here as an historical curiosity and pleasant background fare. The series tagline reads "Treasures from the Eszterháza Palace," but "Artifacts" might be a better first word. Buy this recording if you're pursuing a complete sense of Haydn's compositional activities, or just wanting some fluffily nice music. Pass if you're looking for your next Surprise Symphony or Emperor Quartet experience. Verdict: Mildly Recommended.

Archipel. Aline Piboule, pianist. Harmonia Mundi HMM 902776. 

Now this is how you do a solo piano album! The title, Archipel, is French for "archipelago," and most selections relate to islands, the sea, or some relatable natural element. It pairs the music of Debussy with that of...wait for it...John Ireland! A cynic might say that this only shows how much the Englishman owes to the towering French master. But two things here can be true: yes, Ireland was heavily influenced by Debussy, but he also has a real voice of his own. He's represented here by Sarnia: An Island Sequence and Decorations, two of his finest miniature suites. Debussy's fare is more familiar: Claire de Lune, D'un cahier d'esquisses, the L. 82 Nocturne, and Yann Olivio's solo piano transcription of La Mer. This last item is instructive: much of the original work depends upon orchestral timbres to make its sonorities best felt, and the materials seem more modest stripped of that context. But Piboule gives a tremendous account of both this and the other pieces, with a versatility that is at turns bracing and intimate when needed. She respects the power of momentum without ever rushing. Her tone colors are gorgeous. Finally, I love her choice of the Yamaha instrument, whose bright sound she uses to dazzling effect. John Ireland is unlikely to get better advocacy than this. Verdict: Highly Recommended.

Quick Takes: Batch #4 (Beethoven, Alessandro Scarlatti, Gál, Martin Romberg)

Beethoven: Piano Sonatas Opp. 109-111; Bartók: Dirge, Op. 9a, No. 1. Imogen Cooper, pianist. Chandos CHAN 20362. 

I confess it's difficult to find obvious weaknesses in these performances. Cooper has clearly studied the scores well and plays with sensitivity and attention to detail. But if asked to identify other positive attributes I'd have an equally difficult time. I suppose one could argue that her emotional restraint here is a kind of virtue. If that's what you look for in Beethoven's last three piano sonatas, you're likely to enjoy this recording. But if you're like me, and glancing at a storied catalogue full of classic accounts that deliver more passion, spirituality, and grandeur, then the present option starts to look pedestrian pretty quickly. Cooper is probably better at these works than 99% of the pianists who attempt them. But that 1% looms large in such staple repertoire. The single most individual thing about this release is its inclusion of the tiny Bartók dirge at the end. I gather that this was intended to signal the end of Cooper's long recording career. Still, it's an odd choice; it might have been better to let Op. 111 have the final word for her as it did for Beethoven's sonata cycle. Verdict: Neutral.

Vieni, o Notte (works by Alessandro Scarlatti). Francesca Aspromonte, soprano; Boris Begelman, violinist and leader; Arsenale Sonoro. Aparté AP428. 

This is sturdy Baroque fare: three fine cantatas interspersed with a pair of beautiful string sonatas. The vocal works, as the press release notes, are united by themes of “night and thwarted love,” reflected in the title drawn from an aria in Notte ch’in carro d’ombre. Alessandro Scarlatti, the dad of the more famous Domenico Scarlatti, was occasionally capable of composing things that catch the ear. This lovely aria is one of them, as is the bouncy closing number of the same work – "Si, che priva di contento." Although the two cantatas that follow – Silenzio aure volanti and All'hor che stanco il sole (which receives its premiere recording here) – do not quite reach the same level of inspiration, they're nonetheless effective and will please most listeners. The performers superbly capture the music's darker colors. Francesca Aspromonte is a delight to hear and well suited for this repertoire. Her supporting cast balances precision with luxuriousness. On the whole, this is one of the better Scarlatti Sr. releases I've heard. A lesser cast would diminish the returns. Verdict: Recommended. 

Hans Gál: String Quintet, Op. 106; String Quartet No. 4, Op. 99; Five Intermezzi, Op. 10. Katalin Kertész, violin; Reijo Tunkkari, violin; Hanna Pakkala, viola; Emiliano Travasino, viola; Lauri Pulakka, cello; Ulla Lampela, cello. CPO 555721-2. 

About 5-6 years ago on Twitter, before the Great Microblogging Schism that followed Elon Musk's takeover, there was considerable hubbub over Hans Gál in the classical music corner of the app. Certain people whom I respect swore up and down that he constitutes one of the great discoveries of our time. I tried all of the music they told me to and remained unimpressed. Listening to this disc (and various alternatives in the catalogue), I still remain unimpressed. Gál seemed to like nothing better than to vaguely ape Brahms 50-100 years after the fact. His is very much an imitation of great music rather than great music. The way Gál tries to match the German master's idiosyncratic turns of phrase, especially in the Five Intermezzi, is at once risible and slightly incredulous. And even where he isn't simply aping Brahms, the melodic and harmonic material is so bland that you almost wish he were aping Brahms even more. Since I'm probably offending some of my readers already, I'll keep things short. If you see something in Gál's music that I utterly fail to do, this disc is for you. The performance of the Fourth Quartet, for example, is crisper and brighter in sound than the one on the premiere recording (Meridian 5015959455721). As always, we should be grateful to CPO for making so much non-canon repertoire available to us. But don't look for another Gál review from me any time soon. If nothing else, I have lots of paint to watch dry. Verdict: Indifferent. 

Martin Romberg: Symphony of Saints & Sacred Songs. Joanne Lunn, soprano; Martin Romberg, piano; Andrew Griffiths, conductor; The Orchestra of the Swan. Resonus RES10378. 

I did not know Martin Romberg's music before listening to this disc. Upon doing so I immediately sampled some of his other works. The only way to say it is that these kinds of discoveries are what make classical music so rewarding. What we have here is a master of atmosphere and, when the inspiration grabs him, of melody. The symphony is a slow burn, but it effectively conjures the mists of northern legend. Its grounding sonorities and gentle dissonances color the texts of different saints from remote times. At about 20-25 minutes, the work is just the right length for its materials. Even better is the cycle of Sacred Songs. It's clear from this, and from the piano pieces on other recordings I gladly gobbled up, that Romberg is at core a miniaturist. All of these songs are beautiful, and a few are special indeed. "Farewell" and "Night" are particularly poignant. I hope that Romberg has a long career ahead of him yet. Because contemporary music like his goes a long way toward restoring my faith in the Western tradition's viability. Verdict: Enthusiastically Recommended.