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.

Recording Review #73: A Groggy Gerontius

Elgar: The Dream of Gerontius, Op. 38. Karen Cargill (Angel); Roland Wood (Priest and Angel of Agony); David Butt Philip (Gerontius); Martyn Brabbins, conductor; Huddersfield Choral Society; Orchestra of Opera North. Hyperion CDA68461/2.

When I reviewed Paul McCreesh's Signum Records Gerontius for Nineteenth-Century Music Review last year (DOI: https://doi.org/10.1017/S1479409825100621), I began by noting that there were not all that many complete entries in the catalogue (just north of two dozen). But I may have spoken too soon. Including this new one on Hyperion, there have been THREE released since the McCreesh. And while I can't say if there are more in preparation, it seems like this oratorio has become something of a bandwagon. Mostly this is a pity: almost none of them match the best ones that have long been available. That very much includes this newcomer directed by Martyn Brabbins. 

We have two main problems here. The first and more serious one is that Brabbins just doesn't have the moxie to be conducting a dramatic, post-Wagnerian oratorio. His energy tends to be low, and his instincts too much favor cool balance and reserve. He's best in music like Vaughan Williams's Pastoral Symphony or Walton's Second Symphony...things that flatter his relative introversion. In Gerontius he holds back his very good vocal soloists with poor tempo decisions and a lack of bold orchestral gestures. When the protagonist is on his deathbed in the first part, we need to have more desperation. I get the sense that David Butt Philip (who really has a great voice and sense of purpose here) wants to let this rip, but he's held back by a dampening Brabbins and OON. It comes off lethargic instead of desperate. Particularly plodding is the "Sanctus fortis" section, which should be alive with existential dread. It needs a faster tempo. Poor Gerontius goes through enough in this story; do we really want to drag out his death, too? Brabbins gets let off the hook somewhat in the overall calmer second part, where the Angel is leading Gerontius around in the afterlife. But even here I think he could have driven home the emotional highs more consistently. The part toward the end when the poor man is judged and consigned to Purgatory is almost limp. Again, Philip does his best, but the orchestra under Brabbins gives him little dramatic help.

The second problem is the decision to use an amateur choir. Yes, I know: this work has a long tradition with such societies, and one of my favorite recordings even uses an earlier cast of this very Huddersfield Choral Society (Malcolm Sargent and Heddle Nash on Testament SBT2025). But while Paul McCreesh's 2024 effort is not my preferred one, his group of professionals convinced me that you really need a skillful chorus for parts of this to work best. Or maybe just a better group of amateurs. The HCS here sounds rough at times. If you listen carefully, you can hear the heterogeneous makeup of the group, a sensation familiar to anyone who has sung in an average amateur ensemble. It comes out especially in the demons chorus and 'Be merciful' stretch at the outset. In louder portions, such as Gerontius's send-off at the end of the first part, and in the 'Praise to the Holiest in the height' area in Part II, the massed sound resembles a church congregation, with all that entails. In my review of the McCreesh, I criticized the choir for not being crass enough in the demons part. Well, here we have a rather incidental crassness, but we also lose a sheeny sound. I guess you can't have it all. 

In spite of what I'm saying, I would be fine with all of this in a live regional performance. But that's not the same as listening to a recording. Some things more advantageously pass in the moment, never to be experienced again. A recording is an artifact – a monument with a strong claim to posterity. And I'm afraid this particular one isn't very monumental. 

Verdict: Not Recommended

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.