Quick Takes: Batch #3 (Zelenka, Walton, Einaudi, Finnish Violin-Orchestra Works)

Zelenka: Missa Circumcisionis, ZWV 11; Missa Corporis Domini, ZWV 3. Václav Luks; Collegium 1704 and Collegium Vocale 1704. Accent ACC24416.

Jan Dismas Zelenka's music is still one of the best-kept secrets of the Baroque repertoire. The recipient of some tough breaks, including seeing composers of inferior talent leap-frog him at the Dresden court, he nonetheless produced some of the tangiest works of his time. While this includes entries in multiple genres, his choral-orchestral masses stand pre-eminent. The three greatest of these – the Missa Sanctissimae Trinitatis, the Missa Dei Patris, and the Missa Dei Filii – were composed in the 1730s and hold their own in any similar company. (Yes, I absolutely meant that.) The two masses on this recording date from earlier. While they do not achieve the lofty heights of these others, they are punchily attractive and already start experimenting with the cyclic motives and choruses that distinguish the late masterpieces. I'm not sure that Václav Luks and his cohorts beat the available competition in every respect. (Adam Viktora and the Ensemble Inégal, for example, deliver perhaps a more expressive account of the Missa Circumcisionis on NIBIRU 01782231.) But this is nonetheless an excellent choice that should please nearly everyone. I'd like to think it's just a matter of time before Zelenka finally comes into his own in the concert hall. Meanwhile, I'm pleased to see his discography growing apace with one fine disc after another. Verdict: Highly Recommended. 

Walton: Orb and Sceptre; Symphonies Nos. 1-2. Kazuki Yamada, conductor; City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. Deutsche Grammophon 4868227. 

I've noticed something in the British classical music press: they get very excited and sometimes over-praise whenever someone non-British records one of their beloved own works. That's what's happened here. Yamada supposedly brings a new sensibility to this music, a sharp ear for orchestral sonority, and a refusal to "wallow" in the First Symphony (see Bachtrack and others.) Okay, granted. But we could honestly use a bit more wallowing. What this First is missing, especially in the first movement, is that earnestness and desperation which come through in any good performance. For instance when a secondary idea re-enters in the high strings over the march-like brass following Rehearsal 33 we need it to be devastating. We need things to wallow in that emotional exhaustion, not meander in like C3PO on Hoth. (A good benchmark here is Andrew Litton and the Bournemouth Symphony: London 4434502.) Walton 2 finds Yamada and the CBSO in fine form, with admirable precision and bright colors. Which is telling because this symphony, while deftly crafted, is bereft of soul. Whatever was in Walton for his white-hot earlier works had left him by the time he composed No. 2. You can take or leave this Orb and Sceptre. Verdict: Recommended for the Second Symphony...if you're really a fan. 

Einaudi: Solo Piano. Decca 8823913.

The music of Ludovico Einaudi presents something of a challenge for me as a critic. I know, I know: some of you are asking how this music can possibly be construed as challenging. But this lies at the heart of a problem for someone who rails against classical music snobbery as much as I do – what are the boundaries between art music and other music? How pedestrian does something have to be before I'll no longer defend it as art? I honestly don't know. In some ways this album is a good sounding board for my dilemma: it presents both new pieces and old ones from across Einaudi's career. So it's an ideal sampling upon which to stake my opinion of both recording and composer. If I'm honest, a lot of this stuff sounds to me like a teenage girl banging out poppish songs on the clunky church basement piano. Or it reminds me of background music to an animal help commercial: "With your donation, other dogs like Fluffy can find good homes." Does this make it bad? No. And the good part is, I don't have to worry about categories after all. My criteria don't change: does it contain something that speaks to me? That's ultimately all I care about. Here on this disc, I can point to selections where I liked the repetitious melodies or turns of phrase enough to listen again. They were Melodia Africana III, Memory One, and Jay. I invite you to listen and see if you liked more than these, or even not as many. If it's a case of the former, enjoy them all you want. And don't let snotty critics like me tell you you're wrong for doing so...or for considering it "classical." Verdict: Recommended. 

Finnish Works for Violin and Orchestra (by Englund, Fougstedt, Haapalainen, Merikanto, Palmgren, and Raitio). Linda Hedlund, violinist; József Hárs, conductor; La Tempesta Orchestra. Naxos 8.579185. 

Welp, here's another one of those compilation discs where the most likable item is a two-minute bon-bon at the end. That would be Einar Englund's "Romance" from his music for the Finnish comedy film Omena putoaa (1952). Everything else is frankly forgettable. Some of these composers are more than capable of producing the occasional gem. But even Selim Palmgren, who apart from Englund is probably the best of them, shows up squarely in pedestrian mode with his Op. 104 Concert Fantasy. That's the first item on the disc, and consistent in quality with nearly everything that follows. I could sit here and give you a tedious rundown of each piece, but what's the point? The best I can say is that every track is mercifully modest in length, so you get only a manageable dose of a different mediocrity each time. Certain listeners might be more excited about all of this than I am, but for everyone else I'll simply suggest buying the Englund track and leaving it at that. Verdict: Indifferent. 

Recording Review #72: Warming to Watkins

 

Huw Watkins: Fanfare; Symphony No. 2; Concerto for Orchestra. Mark Elder; Hallé [Orchestra]. Hallé CDHLL7569.

I think I'm finally onboard with the music of Huw Watkins. It took me a while; I wasn't keen at first. Back when I sampled the concertos and symphony on NMC Recordings' 2018 disc (NMC D224), I came away with the impression that this is pleasant but emotionally undemonstrative music. I was grateful for how easy it is on the ear (compared to works by Knussen or Adès, for example), but I craved (and to some extent still crave) a sharper melodic profile. Despite its soft aural palette, Watkins's music requires some patience to like, at least for an unsophisticated listener like yours truly. Still, it has grown on me because I sensed enough there from the outset to suspect that meeting the composer more on his terms would be worthwhile. I was right. 

Watkins likes to start with modest motivic ideas and build forward through variational, textural, and especially timbral enlargement. He especially prefers rippling materials centered on the upper woodwinds. When climaxes occur they tend to be gentle, as do his treatments of brass and percussion overall. There is definitely a lighter complexion to this music, which has an almost translucent quality. It helps to come at it from the standpoint of ever-morphing states rather than as square-cut sections with their own separate themes and characters. I still need to be in the right frame of mind, but when I am I can now get on its wavelength. 

Watkins's craft naturally lends itself well to traditional symphonism. Close listening to the new Second Symphony reveals a clear architectural lineage despite building blocks that feel fresh. The opening movement is fairly tightly constructed even though it initially gives the impression of looseness. I suppose this is a testament to the compositional skill on display. The following section, while at times quite beautiful, required my patience the most. At almost 12 minutes long it unfolds too slowly and is too consistently uneventful for my bandwidth. The finale is my favorite; the plot is easiest to follow and the harmonic/textural support has more variety despite the same-ish thematic materials deployed. It concludes with a bright if not raucous flourish. All in all, the work maintains the craft of its predecessor while managing to be somewhat more compelling. 

I don't know why Watkins named the Concerto for Orchestra as such. It honestly sounds a lot like another of his symphonies; the same basic structural assumptions and instrumental tendencies are at play. Of course none of this means it isn't also a fine work. A slightly lengthier slow movement sits at its center, only here a touch more drama and variety invite greater affection. The finale is not all that different from the symphony's, or from other finales by this composer for that matter. 

While my respect for Watkins's music has steadily increased, I remain critical of his narrow range of expression. All strong composers have their fingerprints, but Watkins tends to paint with the same five or six pastel shades. Through only my first listen to this recording I was ready for a change by the end of the Concerto. The monotony of mood that some critics have identified with Vaughan Williams's Pastoral Symphony is a better description of Watkins's music, only in his case from work to work. It's more attractive than some other contemporary British classical music, refreshingly lacks ugly pretension, and is in its way equally accomplished. It's just a very specific flavor, however glad I've become to sample it occasionally. 

[One aside: it's annoying enough to deal with this orchestra being called simply "Hallé" instead of "The Hallé Orchestra." But their in-house recording label is also just called "Hallé". The no-context "Hallé's" become cumbersome after a while. To the British it all might look cute; I know for a fact that it isn't so for more non-Brits than just me.]

Verdict: Recommended

Quick Takes: Batch #2 (Aho, Schubert, Schumann, British Overtures)

Kalevi Aho: Symphony No. 17 'Symphonic Frescoes'. Erkki Lasonpalo, conductor; Lahti Symphony Orchestra. BIS 2676. 

I can't work up much enthusiasm for this, though I'd be lying if I said parts of it don't impress me against my will. It's always the same story with Aho and me: genuine respect for the composer's sonic imagination and craft, mingled with a wish that I liked it all more. Even where Aho dips into a more traditional musical language here, as in long stretches of the second and third movements, there's just not much I can get into. When he frustrates me enough, I find myself thinking things like "Finnish symphonic music after Sibelius was mostly a mistake" — which I don't really believe (Madetoja, Leiviskä, and Rautavaara, for example, composed works I'd hate to be without). But I resent the grumpiness to which Aho invariably brings me. This is just my latest journey there. That said, listeners who respond better to him than I do, and who have enjoyed his other symphonies, will very likely enjoy No. 17 too. Please do — and pay no heed to this imperfect Aho-ite. Verdict: Indifferent. 

A Moment in Time (Schubert: Impromptus, D. 899; Piano Sonata No. 21 in B-Flat, D. 960). Christian Blackshaw, pianist. Pentatone PTC5187532. 

A reviewer often feels pressure to be easier on a performer because of a hard background or an inspiring story. (I had this experience recently for Classical Candor: feeling sorry for Avril Coleridge-Taylor's prejudice-induced hardships while not being impressed with her music. See here.) Christian Blackshaw sounds like a great guy; upon the tragic death of his wife, he curtailed his performing career to raise his three daughters. The world needs more of that selflessness, full stop. But I'm afraid that what it does not need so much is another mediocre Schubert recording. The best thing on this disc is Blackshaw's slow movement in D. 960. If everything else were as smooth and well judged as that, I'd be writing a different mini-review. But the other parts, while dripping earnestness, just lack elite execution in the details: tone color, articulation, dynamic shadings, and even technique. There's a sleek sheen the best recordings have that this doesn't. At worst, things are too labored and clunky: I can think of no justification for the first movement exceeding 22 minutes. I'd like to be more favorable, but there are just too many big fish in this particular pond to do so. Verdict: Fans of the performer only. 

Schumann: Fantasie in C Major, Op. 17; Faschingsschwank aus Wien, Op. 26; Humoreske, Op. 20. Nikolai Lugansky, pianist. Harmonia Mundi HMM902753.

What we have here is a mismatch of temperament. A thunderous technique and equally impressive control — traits that serve Lugansky well in Rachmaninoff, Liszt, or Tchaikovsky — largely lack the whimsy that is absolutely necessary for Schumann. This is less of a problem in Faschingsschwank than in the Fantasie or the Humoreske, which to my ears sound too square-cut. One telling stretch is the fearsome coda of Op. 17's second movement: Lugansky has the chops to really let this rip interpretively, but he's missing the flair. This should sound slightly over-the-top; instead it's tame. The Humoreske comes closer — there's much to admire in terms of energy and color, but not enough poetry. Lugansky probably outclasses my top choice for this piece (Lupu) in terms of muscle, but in no way does he catch the late Romanian's poignancy. This recording sounds pretty good, at least until you hear the really ideal performances. Verdict: Mildly Recommended. 

Overtures from the British Isles Volume 3. Rumon Gamba, conductor; BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Chandos CHAN20351. 

Chandos sure likes cranking out overture discs. Whoever is planning their content seems shrewdly aware of how to portion this repertoire across multiple installments in ways that average 1-2 halfway memorable numbers on each. That's what we had with Volumes 1-2, and that's what we have here. Lots of pleasantness, rather less reason to come back to it. A little butter scraped over too much bread, to borrow Tolkien's expression. The most compelling item is easily Britten's Overture to Paul Bunyan, though I did heartily enjoy Clifton Parker's The Glass Slipper Overture. The secret ingredient with the latter is knowing when to quit; the thing is tuneful and slight, clocking in at only 3 minutes. Are these two pieces reason enough to buy this recording, however well Rumon Gamba and the BBC Phil dash them off? I don't know. But I do know this: about 80% of their Malcolm Arnold overtures disc (Chandos CHAN10293) made more of an impression on me than has 80% of the music in this series. Verdict: Mildly Recommended. 

Quick Takes: Batch #1 (Schubert, Fritze, Barraine, Bach)

I'm conscious that I post here infrequently. Holding down two jobs, writing for Classical Candor, and maintaining a research agenda doesn't leave much room for the long-form album reviews this blog has featured. So I've decided to supplement those occasional longer pieces with short "quick take" roundups — a way to stay present here and give readers more reason to keep coming back. (I'll always stick to four at a time so that I can fit more tags in.) Here is my first batch. 

1. Schubert 4 Hands. Bertrand Chamayou and Leif Ove Andsnes, pianists. Erato 2173296578.

Good recordings of the D. 940 Fantasia are nearly a dime a dozen, and the catalogue is filling up with the D. 947 Allegro and D. 957 Rondo as well. The decision to include the D. 952 Fugue — a less common companion piece — was a smart one. Of course Perahia and Lupu remain my benchmark in the Fantasia, but this is a strong alternative with a pleasingly brisk finale. The closest competition probably comes from the fairly recent Hyperion CDA67665 (Paul Lewis and Steven Osbourne), which overlaps significantly in repertoire. For my money Chamayou and Andsnes edge out the Brits in depth and polish, but you really can't go wrong with either. Verdict: Firmly Recommended. 

2. Gregory Fritze: Overtures and Symphonies. Rafael Sanz-Espert, conductor; London Symphony Orchestra. Naxos 8.559964. 

At least two of these works — A Day in Valencia and Sinfonia de Valencia — began as wind ensemble pieces, re-scored by Fritze in recent years and receiving their debut recordings here. The result is a mixed bag. Several movements of A Day in Valencia are wonderfully stirring and atmospheric, especially "Sunrise over the Mediterranean," and the finale of the Sinfonia — "Pastorale y las montañas" — is equally compelling. None of it will change the world, but these parts hold the attention. Less successful for me are the Sinfonia's first movement, most of the London Overture, and Waterplace Park. For the latter two think overlong Malcolm Arnold without the strong voice. For the former, think your garden-variety, dull 20th-century symphonic writing. Overall? One muted thumb up. Verdict: Mildly Recommended. 








3. Elsa Barraine: Symphonies 1 & 2; Song-Koï; Les tziganes. Cristian Măcelaru, conductor; Orchestre National de France. Warner Classics 2173255519.

Elsa Barraine was an excellent composer with a strong formal craft and sharp ear for instrumental sonority. The two symphonies are as well conceived as most you'll hear, and everything here comes off with admirable assurance. Really all that's missing is a distinguished stamp of personality — which means the music is arguably at its best in peppy, short bursts, as in the finale of the Second Symphony and Les tziganes. The other recent recording of these symphonies, by Elena Schwarz and the WDR Sinfonieorchester Köln (CPO 555 704-2), is slightly preferable for its punchier approach. Still, this is a solid option, and the world premieres of the supplementary works make it a good buy for fans of quality neoclassical orchestral fare. Verdict: Recommended. 

4. J. S. Bach: Goldberg Variations. Yunchan Lim, pianist. Decca 487 151-7. 

There has been some ho-humming about Lim recording this work — "oh, another Goldberg Variations," or "the obligatory career-launching repertoire choice." (See here and here.) Which is understandable. But this is a terrific set, especially given that it's performed live. Lim has a beautiful tone and keen artistic judgment. Not every variation hits the same lofty spot, but more than a few are among the most satisfying you're going to hear. He does the fast ones well — in the tradition of Glenn Gould's classic 1955 issue, but with a much richer sound and sensitivity (compare their No. 5s). No. 17 is very fast, but also the bubbliest performance I've heard. He takes repeats, sometimes with fine results, as when he successfully shifts character the second time through No. 20 part 1. But Lim may be most himself in the slow numbers, where his gift for mood and atmosphere takes over. His No. 25 — Landowska's "Black Pearl" — won't be everyone's deepest ever, but it's nocturne-like in the best way. Would I like to see him tackle Kapustin or Bolcom some time? Sure. But there are Goldberg Variations a whole lot more boring and less competent than this set. Verdict: Highly Recommended. 

I've Won the 2026 Eva Judd O'Meara Prize!

 It is my honor to have been awarded the 2026 Eva Judd O'Meara prize by the Music Library Association (MLA)! This prize is awarded by the organization for their pick of best review in their organization's journal, Notes. Here is the text of the letter I received: 

"Dear Ryan, It is my great pleasure to inform you that you have been awarded the Music Library Association’s Eva Judd O’Meara Award for the best review published in MLA’s journal Notes for your review of Vaughan Williams and His World ed. by Byron Adams and Daniel M. Grimley. Notes 80, no. 4 (2024): 654-663. The Music Library Association’s Publications Awards Committee’s recommendation stated that your review presents a sophisticated and nuanced critique of the volume. They note that you thoughtfully challenge what [you identify] as several ahistorical and ideologically driven assumptions concerning both Vaughan Williams’s political outlook and his relationship to musical modernism. In terms of structure, the committee declares that it is substantial in both length and depth, distinguished by prose that is clear, elegant, and free from fashionable jargon. They write that your command of the field renders you an especially qualified commentator, enabling you to identify inaccuracies, omissions, and interpretive missteps that might elude a less knowledgeable critic. The O’Meara Award comes with a monetary award of $240.00. Congratulations and best regards! Bruce J. Evans President, Music Library Association"

You can see this item listed under my publications tab. I'll add that it is very gratifying to be recognized for the critical work I do, especially since it isn't always easy challenging what I consider to be myths and exaggerations in received musicological wisdom. I am grateful to the MLA and its staff for reading my review thoroughly and recognizing its merits. 

Recording Review #71: Malofeev's Melodies

Forgotten Melodies. [Featuring music by Glinka, Medtner, Rachmaninoff, and Glazunov.] Alexander Malofeev, pianist. Sony 19802936922. 2 CD. 

A pianist tells us many things about himself with a debut album. Especially if that debut album is named after one of its featured works. And especially if the composer of that featured work deserves to be a canon figure but isn't quite yet. Alexander Malofeev is 24 years old, and his inaugural recording is staking a claim with the music of....Nikolai Medtner. Yes, Nikolai Medtner. Ever heard of him? This is a composer whom Richard Taruskin once called "the poor man's Rachmaninoff" (Defining Russia Musically, pg. 318). Closer to my own experience, I remember the disdain with which a fellow graduate student reacted to the Medtner works I excitedly showed him. For long the consensus seems to have been that this music is well crafted but too introverted to really make wide impact. Medtner hasn't had the easiest time. 

But it has been kept alive by serious advocates going back many decades. Richter, Gilels, and Horowitz were earlier champions. Then Geoffrey Tozer and Marc-André Hamelin recorded their superb discs for Chandos and Hyperion respectively in the 90s. Then came Evgeny Kissin with his own rendition of the Sonata Reminiscenza (a work that Malofeev tackles here). Then I was thrilled to see Medtner featured in performances at the latest Van Cliburn competition. (Here is one example.) The verdict of such distinguished company is clear: there is much that is special in this music; it merits prominence and not just survival. And like Hamelin has said, it seeps into you with repeated exposure; eventually you're aware that you love it. Even Taruskin amended his opinion later (Russian Music at Home and Abroad: New Essays, pg. 125). 

Malofeev supplies a generous helping of Medtner here – all 8 pieces in the first set of Forgotten Melodies plus the second of the Op. 48 Fairy Tales. No empty advocacy is this: Malofeev feels Medtner's alternately breezy and saturnine moods to perfection. He brings out the composer's famous (infamous?) intricacies with smooth sensitivity. One savors how he adjusts to the main theme in all of its iterations across the Melodies. It's an absolute treat to the ears, and astonishing coming from one so young. 

The selections rounding out this bountiful release complement the Medtner quite consciously, and likewise accentuate Malofeev's gifts. It's extremely nice to see Glazunov's likewise underrated piano works getting more fine exposure. A highlight is the Op. 103 Iydlle. Its mixture of sun and melancholy make it an ideal companion to the Forgotten Melodies. Malofeev dispatches it with warm delicacy. Similar things could be said for the five Glinka pieces also included, my favorite of which isn't actually the somewhat-known Lark but rather the unassuming Farewell Waltz. 

Of course the best known music is the included Rachmaninoff assortment. But even here the repertoire is chosen wisely for consistency with its album-mates. There's the big Second Sonata: Malofeev meets its fierce virtuosic demands with enviable ease. But this sonata is even more characterized by its various shades of gloom and mystery, finding striking connections with the other pieces here. It shows that there is more in common between Rachmaninoff and Medtner, and that the more famous Russian composer's adoration of his friend's music was in earnest. If anything such connections prompt new ways to view the C-Sharp Minor Prelude and included Études-Tableaux. This kind of subtle awareness is wonderful to see. 

If I have a mild reservation it is that Malofeev sometimes overplays the faster and louder portions. They're breathtaking but occasionally obscure the details slightly. I imagine that much of this is a maturity thing and will improve with age. Certainly it does nothing to mar what is a beautiful and important project. If the survival of classical music partially depends upon creative programming like this, and I believe it does, Malofeev is certainly doing his part. 

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Recording Review #70: Mercurial Mahler

Mahler: Symphony No. 1. Paavo Järvi, conductor; Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich. Alpha Classics ALPHA1166. 

This recording is a classic mismatch between conductor and work. Paavo Järvi has a lot going for him: his intensity, earnestness, and first-rate ear for detail come immediately to mind. But he's a very specific kind of interpreter. Essentially he's a patchwork quilter who'll often craft a phrase or period in a fairly self-contained manner before moving on to the next one. Unfortunately he tends not to be interested in every phrase or period equally. This means that while there are often remarkable things happening from area to area, it's accompanied by a rather feebler grip of the long arc. Such an atomistic approach works well in music by Debussy or Stravinsky, but I find it uncongenial for Romantic repertoire that requires a certain narrative sweep. The result is a Mahler 1 that falls short as a complete experience despite its many attention-grabbing moments. 

Like other reviewers, I was impressed at the start of my first listen. The beginning is suitably mysterious, notwithstanding distant trumpets I think could be more audible, and woodwind calls that sometimes come off over-articulated. But when the main theme ("Ging heut' morgen übers Feld") begins, it's admirably robust. A brisk and driving start is not a bad thing here. Then I suffered my first major jolt as the climactic point arrived. True to habit, Järvi belabors the tipping point. The whole stretch from shortly after Rehearsal 23 to the peroration beginning at measure 352 is over-milked and aesthetically inconsistent with the preceding pace of the movement. The burst of energy from there until the end gushes forth too quickly and incongruently; we lose some important details. (This isn't the first time I've heard Järvi conduct that way. His recent Mendelssohn symphonies I reviewed for Classical Candor see him similarly breathless in some of the rapid passages of Nos. 3-4.) It's an unfortunate quirk I'd wish he'd forego. 

The second movement is better, though I wish Järvi would ease up in the trio a bit. Also, though he is not alone in doing so, he over-emphasizes the forte dynamic on the first note. Maybe Mahler wanted to establish a strong downbeat, but too many conductors (Bernstein included) traumatize this pitch with a treatment closer to sf or ff. This kind of kills the ländler feeling, especially when it takes a measure or two to establish a steady tempo afterward. And anyway, the initial dynamic is no different than the single fortes in the measures immediately following. We don't need it singled out. 

I'll have to reuse the word "belabored" for the third movement. I can't think of a better one. Mahler's initial tempo direction specifically says "ohne zu schleppen" (WITHOUT DRAGGING). Dear readers, is this not among the slowest and draggiest beginnings that you can recall? Then there is the weirdly muted second section. This should be moonlit and magical; instead it feels like the conductor isn't comfortable with its frank sentiment. I haven't much more to say about the return of the A material. What stood out to me most here is Järvi (true to his quirk) rushing through the klezmer-like intrusion in a way that saps its effect. 

Identifying everything I think is wrong with the finale performance could fill a dedicated essay. Instead I'll be as succinct as possible. This is where Järvi's lack of architecture and feeling for the epic hits most sorely. The opening salvo is slightly held back while moments of relative repose are sometimes overworked. Some of the string passagework at the beginning and elsewhere sounds almost mechanical. Some of the most passionate utterances feel somehow muffled. A good example is that Rehearsal 44, where the height of the emotional build is clipped and the overall payoff stunted. It just reinforces that the heart at the center of this thing isn't there. 

A negative feature of this recording is its chopping up of the symphony's four movements across 16 tracks. Ostensibly this is to help the listener quickly go to "bookmark" moments in the work. But I found that this merely accentuates the tendencies I just discussed, and betrays how the conductor treats (or doesn't treat) the sections in their totalities. If this was Järvi's decision, it's extremely telling. If it wasn't, it might as well have been. 

Verdict: Not Recommended