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

Recording Review #69: Imbued Impromptus

 

Schubert: Impromptus Opp. 90 & 142. Eric Lu, pianist. Warner Classics 2173286931.

It's always interesting to watch how the careers of International Chopin Piano Competition winners unfold. This recording is the first release after Eric Lu's victory at the latest such contest in 2025. But it is the second Schubert disc he has produced for Warner, the first appearing in 2022 and featuring the D. 784 and 959 sonatas plus the D. 915 Allegretto (Warner 5054197298127). Having listened to both recordings, I must say that it is easy to see why Mr. Lu took fourth prize in the 2015 event and won outright in 2025. His occasionally expansive tempos may take some getting used to, but they are underpinned by unmistakably sensitive musicianship. I watched a substantial number of the 2025 Chopin Competition performances (via YouTube), and I had no doubt all along that Lu would at least be in the prize-winner conversation. Schubert Impromptu recordings are plentiful, but here again Lu distinguishes himself. 

My first thought as the initial track (Op. 90, No. 1 in C Minor) played was, "wow, he's taking the molto moderato part of the tempo direction solemnly to heart." But as with the sonatas disc, I stuck with it and before long was coaxed into Lu's way of seeing things. This is gentle, velvety pianism extremely well suited to the repertoire. I quickly decided I could live with some extra deliberation. And on it went through both of the sets. Time and again Lu comes up with another shading to color one of many tender moods. Of course Op. 142/2 in A-flat is one of those pieces with which we're overly familiar. But somehow Lu plays the middle section more ethereally than I have ever heard it. The B-flat variations in the same set exude grace and next-level delicacy. 

Somehow Lu accomplishes all of this and more while truly living up to these miniatures' shared title: his playing sounds spontaneous without being capricious. It's as if he's discovering new things to say from piece to piece, and from measure to measure. Moreover, they nearly always seem to be the right things, even when we haven't quite experienced them before. Nor does he disappoint in the more dramatic moments, as the stormier portions of Op. 90, Nos. 2 and 4 show. It's just that they're sometimes a bit outclassed by his instinct for intimacy.

Lu is one of those special performers with the ability to make us experience well-worn repertoire completely afresh. I admire many interpretations of these pieces, with those by Krystian Zimerman (DG 423 612-2), Maria João Pires (DG 457 550-2), and Alfred Brendel (Philips 411 040-2) probably being my favorites. Honestly, I think I have to add Lu's to the group. They have grabbed ahold of me and not let go. I like them a little more with every listen. Where will his recording career take him next? It's just something else to look forward to. 

Verdict: Warmly Recommended

Recording Review #68: Mikhail's Mess

Chopin: Preludes, Op. 28; Scriabin: Preludes, Op. 11. Mikhail Pletnev, pianist. Deutsche Grammophon 486 745-5.

Often the people most corrosive to the viability of classical music are its own practitioners. Take this recording for instance. I can see little use for it beyond gratifying the performer's whims and titillating bored novelty-seekers. Certainly someone wishing to become familiar with these pieces will be poorly served. The playing is willfully mannered and the sound unnecessarily muffled, the latter thanks to a puzzling decision to use analog recording technology. Yes, there are a few fine moments. But they are islands in a sea of soupy mess. The whole thing is unworthy of a great performer like Mikhail Pletnev, even taking into account his famous variability. 

This Chopin set is the worst. The murky sound brings everything down, but eccentric interpretive decisions do the music itself a far greater disservice. In one respect this stems from a good intention: bringing out the melody. Pletnev does so VERY well, and occasionally achieves satisfactory results. One example is No. 19 in E-Flat, in which the tune sings clearly while the background beautifully shimmers. That's not easy to do. But in other settings the difficulty of actually hearing everything else can become a problem. The tune is the thing (as RVW said), yes. But when subordinate voices recede so severely, as they often do in Nos. 1, 2 and 8, melodic projection becomes too much of a good thing. 

More inexcusably, Pletnev frequently just ignores score markings. This happens most in the louder and more impassioned selections/stretches. The intense No. 5 is a good example. First, we hardly reach a forte dynamic in the whole piece, nor do we really hit a Molto Allegro tempo. Then there is the weird staccato or portamento-like articulation in the bass where none is indicated. The whole thing is limp, meek, and obviously outside the character Chopin suggests. But this is just one instance. The agitato moods elsewhere in the preludes (e.g. in Nos. 8, 14, 16, and 24) get replaced by a mumbly, even comatose approach. Combine this with occasionally messy peddling and excessive rubato and you have interpretations that positively pale in comparison with those by the likes of Argerich, Moravec, or Pollini. 

The Scriabin set comes off slightly better, mostly because the cloudy recording sound, combined with Pletnev's muted approach, are better withstood by an often languid character. The pianist also manages to find something of a pulse for some of the quicker ones, such as we see in his Nos. 3 and 18. (Sometimes, not always.) But while Pletnev never previously recorded Chopin's Op. 28 group, he did set down Scriabin's Op. 11 (see Erato 5452472, and the Virgin re-release) almost 3 decades ago. This latter rendition radiates strength and color to a degree that frankly indicts the present account. The one is earnest and breathtaking; the other evokes enervated cynicism. 

In sum, this has all the trappings of a vanity project. Flashes of greatness are present, as are glimpses into a keen musical personality. But when the self-indulgence is ratcheted so high, I stop caring about talent and imagination. I groan to think of the more constructive things Pletnev could have been doing instead. If you're new to these pieces, or just want to hear some good performances, pass this one over and partake of the many other fine options you have. 

Verdict: Not Recommended