Monday, September 30, 2024

Recording Review #50: Astounding Avdeeva













Chopin Voyage
 (Music by Frédéric Chopin). Yulianna Avdeeva, pianist. Pentatone PTC5187233. 

Well if it isn't ANOTHER Chopin disc. And hey – ANOTHER Third Sonata, and ANOTHER Barcarolle, and ANOTHER Polonaise-Fantaisie! With yet more miniatures rounding out the musical packaging. Added to hundreds of recordings featuring the same repertoire. Going back decades, and decades...and decades. In perpetuity, with no end in sight. 

Did we really need more? I often ask that very question. I asked it before listening to this recording. But after multiple times through (just to be sure of what I was hearing), my answer is: YES, emphatically. Because great artists can make this music their own and yet honor the composer's conception. They let us hear things we've never heard before in repertoire we think we know so well. They offer hope and affirmation: hope that we'll be rewarded with the occasional gem in a sea of ordinary releases; affirmation that this music still matters, and still speaks to new generations of performers and listeners during what can seem dreary days for our glorious Western classical tradition. 

For make no mistake: Yulianna Avdeeva is the real deal. I know some were sore at how the 16th International Chopin Piano Competition in 2010 shook out. Too many incredible pianists simply deserved to win the gold medal. Judges Martha Argerich and Nelson Freire gave top marks to my own personal choice, Daniil Trifonov. There was some surprise and even disappointment when Avdeeva won. But I can't say she didn't deserve it as much as several others. And while her interpretations of Chopin's music sometimes aren't my preferences for how it should go, I cannot deny her first-rate artistry. Chopin Voyage is for me an encapsulation of these feelings. 

Sometimes Avdeeva's melodic lines are too soft for my liking, and her tempi just occasionally a tad off-target. But my gosh, what a SOUND! It is absolutely rich and varied all the way through. So much so that I can easily live with these other things. Take her Op. 62/2 Nocturne. The brief surprise recast of the main theme in D major to kick off the closing section (mm. 60-61 if I am counting correctly) is almost TOO quiet. But the rich colors she creates throughout the piece are a thing of beauty, and she unfolds the wistful first interlude theme with keen affect. This nocturne turns out to be even more than the devastatingly sad jewel it ought to be; I'm hearing it anew. Avdeeva's performance of it (and its Op. 62 companion) makes me wish for her release of the complete Chopin nocturnes some day. If they're all like these she'll distinguish herself even in a crowded field. 

Or take the Polonaise-Fantaisie. Avdeeva rushes the opening too much for my liking. I would prefer more time to let its mystique be felt. But this only foreshadows what is a marvelously brisk and passionate interpretation to follow. She once more brings her kaleidoscope of colors to bear, with an amazingly controlled melodic projection during the intense parts. Only later in the piece could I perceive how the opening fits with what follows. While I still prefer a different approach early on, it all turns out to be something I can gladly get behind. 

Almost the opposite trajectory marks the Barcarolle. After a wonderfully gentle and dreamy start, we get some stretches that are too breathless (especially in the middle section), with certain melodic notes that sound under-projected. The trills (fiendishly difficult to bring off properly) sound noisy in parts, and the pedaling is just a touch heavy. But the whole last section somehow returns to the promise of the opening; it's gorgeous. Once again I ask myself if the shortcomings (or MY perceived shortcomings) are a worthy price for a stellar remainder, and once again I have to say they are. 

By-now-familiar patterns mark Avdeeva's performance of the Third Sonata. In short, beautiful sound combines with unpredictable dynamic and tempo decisions. Examples of the latter include briskness in some of the softer passages in the first movement, right before the closing theme of the exposition. My least favorite point in the whole interpretation are the right-hand figures in the third movement's sostenuto section starting at measure 29. This is lovely playing but sounds too étude-like to my ears. The finale could stand in for my entire experience of Avdeeva's Chopin. It is the most sotto voce performance I've ever heard, and I'm not sure I like the draggy feel of the last rondo theme statement. But again the colors she produces are awesome, and her control breathtaking. Best of all, she brings out inner voices in some passages that I've never heard enhanced before...all without losing the main melody. I'll say it a different way: I may not always agree with Avdeeva's interpretive approach, but even in such places I am impressed with her playing almost against my will. 

I have little to offer about the included Op. 59 mazurkas. They're fantastic – an ideal capper to an aptly named album. It's all quite a voyage indeed. I guess in sum I'd have to say that even where Avdeeva does something I think is strange, I'm satisfied she isn't just doing it to be different. Her uniqueness isn't feigned; it comes from a place of genuine feeling for the music. It may sometimes be different from my feeling, but it's nonetheless free of gimmicky sensationalism. Here is an artist with a strong vision.  

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Friday, September 27, 2024

Recording Review #49: Stirring Stanford














Partsongs, Pastorals and Folksongs
(Music by Charles Villiers Stanford). Harry Christophers, conductor; The Sixteen. Coro COR16207. 

In case my Recording Review #15 didn't make it clear, I'm a big fan of Anglo-Irish composer Charles Villiers Stanford (1852-1924). True, I'm a British music nut and therefore something of an outlier. But I do believe Stanford's stock has been historically undervalued for two reasons: 1. Pleasant as they are (especially the Irish Rhapsodies), Stanford's big instrumental works don't exactly knock the listener's socks off with great daring or originality. And his operas have for long been unknown. As these genres usually receive maximum attention from historians of the Romantic era, CVS has suffered considerable prestige disadvantage; and 2. Even the choral works that show him at his best often do so in an understated manner. Occasionally you get fiery intensity (For Lo, I raise up), or something otherwise rousing ("The Little Admiral" from Songs of the Fleet), but more often Stanford shines in painting softer scenes and emotions. His Stabat Mater, for example, is gently stirring rather than hysterical. It's unsurprising that more dramatic choral works like Verdi's Requiem and Bruckner's Te Deum have received more press.

If your musical palette is for bold flavors, you may not consider the small choral selections on this recording to be much beyond nice. But if you're in a position to be impressed by Stanford's sensitive text setting, and can develop a taste for the pastel colors in which he paints, you'll probably find it all to be as delightful as I do. Where he excels is in fitting delicate musical atmospheres to evocative scenes that are usually of a religious, folkish, natural, and/or historical tint. Again though, this is not necessarily a readily acquired taste. Even Stanford's biographer, Paul Rodmell, is dismissive of the Op. 127 partsongs included here, inexplicably calling them "uninspired" (Rodmell, Charles Villiers Stanford, Routledge, 2002/2017, pg. 268). I, on the other hand, consider them to be immersive in the best sense. Mary Coleridge's moody poetry is a great fit for his gifts. No. 4 ("The Haven") particularly "hits the spot," but all of the others in the set are worthy, too.

Which leads me to point out a fantastic feature of this recording: we get entire sets of songs instead of just selections. Excepting the Op. 79 folk song arrangements, many numbers across the other groups are recorded here for the first time. (Well, the bonus track of Emer’s Farewell to Cucullain is a one-off and not part of a set.) Listening to these pieces as parts of wholes enhances them. Their different characters complement and feed off of one another. I especially felt this with the Six Elizabethan Pastorals (Set I), Op. 49. Just two of its numbers, "Damon's passion" and "Phoebe," receive their premiere recordings here. But they add markedly to the listening experience.

Harry Christophers and The Sixteen perform with spirit and precision. The Stanford Society's support of this venture is most welcome. What's not to like?

Verdict: Warmly Recommended

Monday, September 23, 2024

Spotify's Monthly Listeners for Classical Composers

 As someone who often thinks about the current state of Western classical music, I wonder very much about listener habits and the exposure different composers and repertoires receive. Methods of measuring these things are numerous, and most seem like they come with their own limitations. For example, what do major orchestras' programming choices really tell us about listener tastes (as opposed to those of conductors and other performers)?  What could recording sales reveal, even if such data were findable? Do recording sales even matter anymore, given that we live in the Age of Streaming?

Multiple streaming services do keep statistics on songs and artists. But as of 2021 no such service had a majority share of their market. That said, Spotify comes closest and more than doubles the share enjoyed by its closest competitor, Apple Music. Perusing Spotify's "monthly listeners" numbers for different artists, defined as "how many unique people have listened to the artist's songs within the last 28 days," offers an interesting glimpse into just what classical music their audience spends time listening to. Granted, this data is imperfect, and we don't know who listens to what, why they do, or if some things are disproportionately benefitting from curated and/or algorithmic advantages. 

Nonetheless, I have compiled a list of 200 composers (who aren't also major recorded performers of other people's music) and their "monthly listeners" numbers as accessed by me on Spotify during 23 September 2024. Many of these figures will come as little surprise. But occasionally I was struck by composers getting monthly listener numbers that I would not have expected. Another note: this isn't a Top 200 list; it's just a list of 200 composers chosen by me somewhat arbitrarily. So without further ado, here is a nice chunk of names and their statistics (ordered from highest to lowest): 

  1. Hans Zimmer (b. 1957): 12.5 million 
  2. Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750): 7.8 million
  3. Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827): 7.7 million
  4. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791): 7 million
  5. Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849): 6.9 million 
  6. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: (1840-1893): 6.4 million
  7. Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741): 6.2 million 
  8. John Williams (b. 1932): 5.7 million 
  9. Claude Debussy (1862-1918): 5.5 million 
  10. Erik Satie (1866-1925): 5 million 
  11. Johannes Brahms (1833-1897): 4.8 million
  12. Thomas Newman (b. 1955): 4.8 million 
  13. Camille Saint-Saëns (1831-1921): 4.7 million 
  14. Howard Shore (b. 1946): 4 million
  15. Danny Elfman (b. 1953): 3.8 million 
  16. Franz Liszt (1811-1886): 3.5 million 
  17. Ennio Morricone (1928-2020): 3.5 million 
  18. John Powell (b. 1963): 3.4 million 
  19. Robert Schumann (1810-1856): 3.4 million
  20. Edvard Grieg (1843-1907): 3.3 million 
  21. Franz Schubert (1797-1828): 3.3 million 
  22. Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904): 3.1 million 
  23. Alexandre Desplat (b. 1961): 3 million 
  24. George Frideric Handel (1685-1759): 2.8 million
  25. James Horner (1953-2015): 2.7 million 
  26. Maurice Ravel (1875-1937): 2.6 million 
  27. Georges Bizet (1838-1875): 2.5 million 
  28. Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847): 2.5 million 
  29. Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873-1943): 2.5 million 
  30. Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924): 2.4 million 
  31. Jean Sibelius (1865-1957): 2.4 million 
  32. Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901): 2.4 million 
  33. Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975): 2.3 million 
  34. Johann Pachelbel (1653-1706): 2.1 million 
  35. Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924): 2.1 million 
  36. Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714-1788): 2 million 
  37. Léo Delibes (1836-1891): 2 million 
  38. Edward Elgar (1857-1934): 1.7 million
  39. Harry Gregson-Williams (b. 1961): 1.7 million  
  40. Philip Glass (b. 1937): 1.5 million 
  41. Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953): 1.5 million 
  42. Niccolò Paganini (1782-1840): 1.3 million 
  43. Nino Rota (1911-1979): 1.3 million 
  44. Karl Jenkins (b. 1944): 1.2 million
  45. Johann Strauss II (1825-1899): 1.2 million 
  46. Samuel Barber (1910-1981): 1.1 million 
  47. John Barry (1933-2011): 1.1 million
  48. Christoph Willibald von Gluck (1714-1787): 1.1 million 
  49. Aram Khachaturian (1903-1978): 1.1 million 
  50. Jacques Offenbach (1819-1880): 1.1 million 
  51. Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908): 1.1 million 
  52. Gioachino Rossini (1792-1868): 1.1 million 
  53. Bedřich Smetana (1824-1884): 1.1 million 
  54. Gustav Mahler (1860-1911): 1 million 
  55. Jules Massenet (1842-1912): 1 million 
  56. Richard Wagner (1813-1883): 1 million 
  57. Ottorino Respighi (1879-1936): 993.7 thousand 
  58. Jean-Philippe Rameau (1683-1764): 990.8 thousand 
  59. Henry Purcell (1659-1695): 989.6 thousand 
  60. Gustav Holst (1874-1934): 971.2 thousand
  61. Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915): 937.9 thousand 
  62. Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809): 897.5 thousand
  63. Nobuo Uematsu (b. 1959): 857.4 thousand 
  64. Charles Gounod (1818-1893): 840.5 thousand 
  65. Carl Orff (1895-1982): 832.6 thousand 
  66. Arcangelo Corelli (1653-1713): 831.7 thousand  
  67. William Walton (1902-1983): 802.6 thousand 
  68. Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958): 801 thousand
  69. Tomaso Albinoni (1671-1751): 792.6 thousand 
  70. Pietro Mascagni (1863-1945): 774.2 thousand 
  71. Carl Maria von Weber (1786-1826): 751.6 thousand 
  72. Arvo Pärt (b. 1935): 745.6 thousand
  73. Richard Strauss (1864-1949): 742.1 thousand 
  74. Modest Mussorgsky (1839-1881): 721.8 thousand 
  75. Michael Nyman (b. 1944): 662.5 thousand 
  76. Rachel Portman (b. 1960): 655 thousand 
  77. Domenico Scarlatti (1685-1757): 647.2 thousand
  78. Jean-Baptiste Lully (1632-1687): 630.2 thousand
  79. Luigi Boccherini (1743-1805): 620.5 thousand 
  80. Frederick Delius (1862-1934): 618.4 thousand 
  81. Alexander Borodin (1833-1887): 597.8 thousand
  82. George Gershwin (1898-1937): 596.1 thousand
  83. Francis Poulenc (1899-1963): 581.9 thousand
  84. Isaac Albéniz (1860-1909): 566 thousand 
  85. Joaquín Rodrigo (1901-1999): 564.5 thousand 
  86. Jerry Goldsmith (1929-2004): 543.9 thousand
  87. Béla Bartók (1881-1945): 526.6 thousand
  88. Clara Schumann (1819-1896): 519.7 thousand 
  89. Hildur Guðnadóttir (b. 1982): 468.2 thousand
  90. Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951): 450.7 thousand 
  91. Georg Philipp Telemann (1681-1767): 430.6 thousand 
  92. Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971): 427.8 thousand
  93. Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848): 414 thousand
  94. Bernard Herrmann (1911-1975): 403.4 thousand  
  95. Koji Kondo (b. 1961): 402.6 thousand 
  96. Ferruccio Busoni (1866-1924): 388.3 thousand
  97. César Franck (1822-1890): 384.8 thousand 
  98. François Couperin (1668-1733): 349.1 thousand 
  99. Alexander Glazunov (1865-1936): 344.9 thousand
  100. Vincenzo Bellini (1801-1835): 344.4 thousand  
  101. Aaron Copland (1900-1990): 336 thousand 
  102. Fanny Mendelssohn (1805-1847): 333.8 thousand
  103. Max Bruch (1838-1920): 328 thousand 
  104. Manuel de Falla (1876-1946): 318.5 thousand 
  105. Leoš Janáček (1854-1928): 315.9 thousand 
  106. Benjamin Britten (1913-1976): 308.3 thousand 
  107. Giovanni Battista Pergolesi (1710-1736): 279.3 thousand 
  108. Muzio Clementi (1752-1832): 278.9 thousand 
  109. Hildegard von Bingen (ca. 1098-1179): 270.2 thousand 
  110. Elmer Bernstein (1922-2004): 263.7 thousand 
  111. Gregorio Allegri (1582-1652): 260 thousand 
  112. Maurice Jarre (1924-2009): 245.7 thousand 
  113. Enrique Granados (1867-1916): 240.9 thousand
  114. Eric Whitacre (b. 1970): 239.2 thousand
  115. Anton Bruckner (1824-1896): 239.1 thousand
  116. Amilcare Ponchielli (1834-1886): 232.9 thousand 
  117. Ruggero Leoncavallo (1857-1919): 230.3 thousand 
  118. Hector Berlioz (1803-1869): 228.7 thousand 
  119. Gerald Finzi (1901-1956): 221 thousand 
  120. Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643): 214.9 thousand 
  121. Heitor Villa-Lobos (1887-1959): 208.9 thousand 
  122. Pietro Locatelli (1695-1764): 205.8 thousand
  123. Mikhail Glinka (1804-1857): 165.6 thousand 
  124. Krzysztof Penderecki (1933-2020): 159.7 thousand 
  125. Paul Dukas (1865-1935): 156.4 thousand
  126. Steve Reich (b. 1936): 151.3 thousand 
  127. Morten Lauridsen (b. 1943): 149.6 thousand 
  128. Giulio Caccini (1551-1618): 149.2 thousand 
  129. Karol Szymanowski (1882-1937): 147 thousand 
  130. Johann Christian Bach (1735-1782): 141.6 thousand
  131. John Adams (b. 1947): 140 thousand 
  132. Carl Czerny (1791-1857): 138.2 thousand
  133. John Dowland (ca. 1563-1626): 130.4 thousand 
  134. Arturo Márquez (b. 1950): 128.4 thousand 
  135. Johann Nepomuk Hummel (1778-1837): 125.1 thousand
  136. Franz Lehár (1870-1948): 119.8 thousand
  137. John Tavener (1944-2013): 119.7 thousand  
  138. John Cage (1912-1992): 110 thousand
  139. Erich Wolfgang Korngold (1897-1957): 108.7 thousand 
  140. Henryk Górecki (1933-2010): 105.2 thousand 
  141. Kurt Weill (1900-1950): 103.1 thousand 
  142. William Byrd (1543-1623): 102.9 thousand
  143. Frank Bridge (1879-1941): 101.8 thousand 
  144. Luigi Cherubini (1760-1842): 101.8 thousand 
  145. Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (ca. 1525-1594): 101.8 thousand
  146. Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791-1864): 90.3 thousand 
  147. Hubert Parry (1848-1918): 90.1 thousand 
  148. Percy Grainger (1882-1961): 89.9 thousand 
  149. Marc-Antoine Charpentier (1643-1704): 87.3 thousand 
  150. Carl Nielsen (1865-1931): 83.6 thousand 
  151. Thomas Tallis (ca. 1505-1585): 82.2 thousand 
  152. Alfred Schnittke (1934-1998): 76.3 thousand
  153. Antonio Salieri (1750-1825): 75.8 thousand 
  154. Tan Dun (b. 1957): 75.4 thousand
  155. Paul Hindemith (1895-1963): 75.2 thousand 
  156. Tomás Luis de Victoria (1548-1611): 74.2 thousand 
  157. György Ligeti (1923-2006): 72.4 thousand 
  158. Malcolm Arnold (1921-2006): 68.7 thousand 
  159. Josquin des Prez (ca. 1440-1521): 67.8 thousand
  160. Orlando di Lasso (ca. 1532-1594): 66.5 thousand 
  161. Édouard Lalo (1823-1892): 66 thousand 
  162. Max Steiner (1888-1971): 65.8 thousand 
  163. Franz von Suppé (1819-1895): 64.9 thousand 
  164. Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992): 62.8 thousand 
  165. Arthur Sullivan (1842-1900): 62.2 thousand 
  166. Thomas Adès (b. 1971): 59.7 thousand
  167. Henryk Wieniawski (1835-1880): 57.9 thousand 
  168. Charles Villiers Stanford (1852-1924): 52.1 thousand 
  169. Toru Takemitsu (1930-1996): 51.1 thousand 
  170. Louis Spohr (1784-1859): 49.3 thousand 
  171. Guillaume Dufay (ca. 1400-1474): 46.9 thousand 
  172. Zoltán Kodály (1882-1967): 42 thousand
  173. Christian Sinding (1856-1941): 41.4 thousand 
  174. Darius Milhaud (1892-1974): 37.5 thousand 
  175. Anton Webern (1883-1945): 37.2 thousand 
  176. Ignacy Jan Paderewski (1860-1941): 34.6 thousand 
  177. Guillaume de Machaut (ca. 1300-1377): 32.5 thousand 
  178. Carlo Gesualdo (1561-1613): 32.3 thousand 
  179. Debbie Wiseman (b. 1963): 32 thousand 
  180. Charles-Marie Widor (1844-1937): 31.1 thousand 
  181. Bohuslav Martinů (1890-1959): 29.2 thousand
  182. Peter Maxwell Davies (1934-2016): 27.5 thousand 
  183. Heinrich Schütz (1585-1672): 26.8 thousand 
  184. Charles Ives (1874-1954): 26.4 thousand
  185. Alban Berg (1885-1935): 26.2 thousand 
  186. Ernest Chausson (1855-1899): 25.3 thousand
  187. Giovanni Gabrieli (ca. 1554-1612): 22.3 thousand 
  188. Karlheinz Stockhausen (1928-2007): 21.8 thousand 
  189. Franz Waxman (1906-1967): 20.2 thousand 
  190. Mily Balakirev (1837-1910): 14.4 thousand 
  191. Hugo Wolf (1860-1903): 13.2 thousand 
  192. Arthur Honegger (1892-1955): 11.8 thousand 
  193. Witold Lutosławski (1913-1994): 9.6 thousand 
  194. Michael Tippett (1905-1998): 7.2 thousand 
  195. Franz Berwald (1796-1868): 5.1 thousand 
  196. Elliot Carter (1908-2012): 3.5 thousand 
  197. Hanz Werner Henze (1926-2012): 2.7 thousand 
  198. Milton Babbit (1916-2011): 884 
  199. Harrison Birtwistle (1934-2022): 826
  200. Roy Harris (1898-1979): 525

I take several things away from this list: 

1. Early music looks like it remains a hard sell. But not as hard a sell as late-20th-century avant-garde music. 

2. Geeks' tastes aren't necessarily everyone else's tastes. (Conductors and committed hobbyists seem to like Bruckner more than anyone else.)

3. A given composer having had a "hit," even just one big one, drives plenty of these numbers. 

4. The implication here is that popular media scores are the primary way in which classical music remains a vibrant part of contemporary culture. People are also thirsty to listen to new classical music that they actually enjoy.

What do you think?

Saturday, September 21, 2024

Recording Review #48: Fortepiano Frustrations














Schubert: Piano Sonata in A, D. 959; Piano Sonata in B-Flat, D. 960. Ronald Brautigam, fortepianist. BIS-2624. 

Ronald Brautigam is a fantastic musician. That's why I feel a little bad about what I'm going to say here. But I'm going to say it anyway, because my first loyalty is to the music as I perceive it ought to be performed. To be blunt, late Schubert is stylistically beyond the point where you should be using a fortepiano. The problem is that this instrument lacks the rich tone colors, timbres, and sustaining abilities of the modern piano. This is simply anathema to Romantic music, including the earliest varieties. The performer's resources become fatally limited in spite of any considerable technique brought to bear. With repertoire by Haydn and Mozart you don't really feel such deficits; the buzzy, shallow action of the fortepiano is more properly part of the 18th-century sound. For my money, the instrument's expressive capacity gets reached with early Beethoven. By the time you're tackling things like the Waldstein Sonata, the Appassionata, or the Hammerklavier, not to mention pretty much all of Schubert's keyboard masterworks, the modern piano is far and away the superior choice. 

Actually Brautigam's problem here is twofold. You have the instrument's limitations, and you also have how these limitations adversely affect the performer's interpretive choices. I noticed this straightaway with D. 959. In a work of such long lines, Brautigam is sometimes forced to play a little more frenetically than one is perhaps used to in this music. Why? Because if he doesn't do so the sound in the broader stretches threatens to dissipate too quickly. Take the very opening. A modern piano player has the luxury of rendering these chords more deliberately...because they'll sustain longer at a louder dynamic. But fortepianist Brautigam is forced to take this passage more aggressively. The trouble is that his instrument already sounds punchy, and so an unidiomatic timbre (more on this in a bit) and jarring attack only compound each other. The sonata immediately gets off on an awkward foot. Or consider the left-hand chords that begin the development section in the same movement. Brautigam can't rely upon deep key action to make these sonorities sound "floaty" and ethereal. Instead they distractingly clunk along while he executes this lyrical area as best he can, handcuffed by a mismatched tool for the task. In many more instances does one sorely feel the fortepiano's lack of resonance. 

We also run into issues of tone color (or a lack thereof). A good pianist can use his/her modern instrument to produce many more such shadings, which come in handy when you'e playing music by Schubert. The latter's repetitions of melodies and their different figurations simply beg to be shaded differently. A great place for this is the second movement of D. 960. But about all Brautigam can do is play these beautifully refigured melodic phrases louder or quieter. His instrument lacks the capacity to really color varied material like it ought to be colored. 

Worst of all is the timbre. Even when Brautigam is doing everything as well as he can (which is often), I'm distracted by the 'plunkety-plunk' of the instrument. This tends to be most egregious during moments of great passion. A good example is the middle section of the D. 959 rondo finale at measures 146-167. We need strength and sonic depth here but we get neither; the fortepiano sounds too brittle and twangy for me to take this music's intended affect seriously. But even in calmer places (say, movements I and sometimes IV of D. 960) I hear left-hand ostinatos that just clang or buzz along. Every time an especially low note is hit I can't shake my impression of a bass kazoo. That's NOT what you want in any of this music!

I'll say it again: I'm not one of those critics who appreciates "new ways of hearing things" for their own sake. I like new things to be justified in other ways. Brautigam has recorded much Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven for fortepiano. A lot of it is superb. But casting about for stuff that doesn't fit this instrument well is him putting his professional niche before the music. There are many fine recordings of Schubert's final two piano sonatas. If Brautigam can't compete with those on a suitable instrument, he should find something else to record. 

Verdict: Collectors Only

Wednesday, September 18, 2024

Recording Review #47: Sundry Souvenirs


 











Souvenirs de Chopin
. Kotaro Fukuma, pianist. Naxos NYCC-27315DG. 

Pianist Kotaro Fukuma has had a busy performing career following his First Prize award at the Cleveland International Piano Competition in 2003. It's not hard to see why. At his best he plays with both formidable technique and keen sensitivity. He frequently makes a good impression on concert critics, and his Laureate Series disc of Schumann piano works with Naxos (8.557668) has won deserved praise as part of an already sizable discography. Yet his consistency as a recording artist would seem to be uneven. For example, I find I agree with Jed Distler in his valuation of Fukuma's earlier Chopin disc (ARS Produktion 38237), where he cites problems with phrasing and dynamic balance. 

This feeling of hot-and-cold also marks Fukuma's Souvenirs de Chopin, which offers a somewhat motley crew of pieces by the eponymous composer. I mean, check out the playlist (taken from Naxos's website): 























This is a generous helping of music, as you can see by the total playing time. But it's also kind of an odd mixture. I find that this aesthetically matches an equally curious dichotomy of good and less good in Fukuma's playing, both within pieces and from piece to piece. 

The biggest issue(s) I have is that Fukuma occasionally likes to over-rubato some slow portions while rip-roaring through the quicker, more virtuosic passages. When he does the latter, the tone is too harsh and the pedaling muddies the texture. For some reason the pieces toward the front of the playlist exhibit these flaws more starkly. The First Ballade, "Heroic" Polonaise, Op. 18 Waltz, and the famous E-Flat Nocturne from Op. 9 are his low points of the bunch. 

In the "decent" category are the Fantasy and the Second Sonata. The former has good tempi and some lovely passages in the slower portions. But the fast parts quickly become muddy and frenetic. The same thing is true at times in the opening movement of the sonata (though less so), and in the scherzo. But here again the slow movement contains some beautiful pianism. 

Fukuma saves his best almost for last. I expected the Polonaise-fantaisie to prove troublesome for the overall manner of playing displayed thus far. But actually we get a wonderful performance. Fukuma better restrains his rubato, avoids noisiness in the virtuosic stretches, and pedals throughout with more clarity. This is refreshing not only after his earlier fare, but also within the larger recording catalog. In truth, some 'distinguished' interpretations of this piece don't sit well with me – they're often too eccentric. The Polonaise-fantaisie is a delicate creation that ill suffers those who are overbearing. But in Fukuma's sober reading we properly hear the intricate melodic lines, delivered with a clear tone that sings gorgeously. If you listen to a single track from this recording make it No. 10. 

The C-Sharp Minor Nocturne and remaining waltzes are fine...I have nothing significant to report about them. Nor, really, do I have much to say about the included "curiosity" – Carl Reinecke's solo piano arrangement of the Largo from Chopin's Second Piano Concerto. A quick-and-dirty search didn't turn up any other recordings of this, but I could easily be mistaken. (Leave a comment if I am; I'd like to know of any others!) Fukuma plays it splendidly, which is all the more reason collectors might have to collect this release. 

Verdict: Recommended (especially for the Polonaise-fantaisie)

Tuesday, September 17, 2024

Recording Review #46: Desultory Dvořák













Dvořák: Symphonies Nos. 7-9; Nature, Life and Love. Semyon Bychkov, conductor; Czech Philharmonic. Pentatone PTC5187216. 

I put off listening to this for a while because I just couldn't bear the thought of MORE late Dvořák symphony performances that are blah. The available reviews/impressions I was sampling weren't reassuring. But while I can't see that this recording adds anything world-altering to the catalogue, I don't think it's as bad as some would have us believe. That doesn't mean it's particularly good. While I'd only call only two of the symphony movements' performances "poor" (I'm referring to the opening movement of 7 and the scherzo of 8, which are especially leaden), there is a general lack of sonic brightness. The strings in particular come off pasty. This isn't helped by a sound quality that makes it seem like there was a thin window erected between the recording equipment and the playing musicians. 

I think the basic problem here is that Bychkov doesn't have a strong vision for these works. He's just conducting and recording them with his Czech Philharmonic Orchestra because that's what he's expected to do. In a way this is better than someone like Fabio Luisi taking the reins of the Danish National Symphony Orchestra and conducting the Nielsen symphonies as if they're by Mahler or Bruckner. Nothing comparably irritating happens here. But with so many excellent options available I just can't imagine that most people would need these Nos. 7-9. They're serviceable overall but nothing more. I wish Bychkov and Co. had recorded Symphonies Nos. 1-6 instead. At least there the competition isn't so fierce, and we'd have another option for works that deserve more exposure. 

Speaking of which, the best reason to buy this recording are the three Nature, Life and Love overtures included. These sparkle in a way the symphonies don't. But that's just under 40 minutes of music next to nearly two hours of second-rate symphonic performances. Is all of this worth the time and money? I guess it depends on how much of a Dvořák collector you are. 

Verdict: Indifferent

Sunday, September 15, 2024

Recording Review #45: Awesome Awadis













Études Mélodiques
. Marie Awadis, pianist and composer. Deutsche Grammophon 486-599-2. 

If I had sat down to write this review after just one hearing of these 12 études, it would look different than the one you're now reading. I would have said something modest about how very nice and well conceived they are, without going much farther. Lucky for you, and still luckier for me, I allowed myself the benefit of a few more hearings. By the end of those this music, and one piece especially, had more fully seeped into my consciousness. I was firmly won over. And so I'm delighted that my title here is "Awesome Awadis" instead of the "Amiable Awadis" header I would've supplied otherwise. 

Of course this all caused me to reflect anew: not only should we actively try out to new repertoire, but we should also give it repeat listens whenever possible. Yeah, it's easy to say that one hearing is enough if the product immediately repulses us. But stuff we think we're lukewarm to at first can sometimes grip us on the second or even third pass. So it proved for me here. 

These twelve Études Mélodiques separately range from about 3 to 6 minutes long. With one possible exception (No. 3, dubbed "Ballade"), each has a short title describing something extra-musical. Examples include "Breathless" (No. 2), "Empty Rooms" (No. 4), "Unspoken Words" (No. 9), and the piece that bowled me over, "La Forêt Oubliée" (No. 6). Stylistically they are obviously influenced by famous examples in the genre going back to Chopin. But Awadis adds her own personal touch. Most of the études are built from chords and progressions that are imaginative without being terribly dissonant. These generate much of the melodic material referenced in the set's title. The structures are free and quasi-minimalistic without being tediously so. None of the pieces wears out its welcome. 

I enjoyed every selection, but "La Forêt Oubliée" is special. I have no idea if it takes its name from some poem, painting, film (I note there's an identically titled Japanese motion picture from 2005), or other specific object. But simply letting the music paint a "Forgotten Forest" in my mind is sufficiently breathtaking. The vivid harmonies and turns of phrase struck emotional resonances I didn't know I had. It is a magical, immersive experience. I'm calling this particular étude one of my prized musical discoveries of 2024, joining Akiro Yashiro's 18th prelude, Daugherty's Harp of Ages, and Mozetich's At the Temple as parts of that group (see my Recording Reviews #18, #34, and #43).  

If up-and-coming composers want a model for how to write music that is at once fulfilling and interesting, they should consider this set. I know I will be singing its praises to anyone who will listen, and advocating for its well-deserved place in the concert hall. 

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Thursday, September 12, 2024

Recording Review #44: Elfman Elsewhere














Danny Elfman: Wunderkammer; Percussion Concerto; Are You Lost? Colin Currie, percussionist; Joann Falletta, conductor; Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. Sony Classical 19658889842. 

To get it out of the way, Danny Elfman is one of my favorite film/TV scorers. He's great at composing one-off opening tunes and contributing to rich cinematic atmospheres. When I am particularly struck by the music supporting what I'm watching onscreen, chances are fairly good it's an Elfman score. And of course, the distinctiveness of The Simpsons title theme alone would be sufficient to forever enshrine his name in American culture of the most recent fin de siècle

But (and you knew there was a "but"), I'm not convinced he's significantly more than this. After listening to the present release and similar fare, I think you have to add his name to a growing list of individuals who never really won matching respect in classical genres outside of their popular theater niches: Arthur Seymour Sullivan, Meredith Willson, Miklós Rózsa, Leonard Bernstein, John Williams, etc. Which is perfectly fine, but let's be honest. 

This is not to say I didn't enjoy Elfman's Wunderkammer, Percussion Concerto, or Are You Lost? On the contrary, each is pleasant enough. But when I view them as musical works in their own right, I'm forced to recognize that there's a reason Elfman became famous on another basis. The first problem is that there is no signature tune in any of this music. If you come to it expecting something like that Simpsons main theme you're going to be disappointed. This echoes a curious trend connected with most of the other people I just mentioned: the flavor of their famous stuff doesn't always transfer well to their "serious" classical compositions. 

It is true that Elfman's rich colors and atmosphere building are present in all three compositions here. But the second problem is that this kind of material is far less riveting in an extended classical structure than it is accompanying Edward Scissorhands trimming hedges or Batman sneaking up on some crook in Gotham City. Elfman is forced to introduce ideas in a kind of minimalist fashion, and stick with them for a time before moving on to other ideas and doing the same. None of them invites sustained attention, and the wholes make nice-ish but underwhelming impressions. One could retort that Philip Glass (whom I've praised here) isn't much different. True, but Glass's distinguished melodic gift transfers over from his film to his concert music comparatively smoothly; he can catch and hold one's ear with the smallest bit of magic. Elfman's magic, such as it is, fizzles outside of its natural home. It all just becomes ordinary. 

I'm not a snob about media music. I've defended its legitimacy in concert settings and as a bona fide classical genre. But I can think this and still recognize that handling a memorable theme in an extended composition is another thing entirely. I respect both skills, but in the end they're separate skills. The number of people great at both constitutes a rarefied group. Elfman isn't in it. 

Verdict: Mildly Recommended

Wednesday, September 11, 2024

Recording Review #43: Prelude Palooza













72 Preludes (by Chopin, Scriabin, and Yashiro). Mao Fujita, pianist. Sony Classical 19802825762. 

With this intriguingly titled release, Japanese pianist Mao Fujita offers performances of three 24-prelude cycles – two well-known Western collections plus an Eastern one that is unfamiliar in the West. Echoing Sony's promotional blurb, they unite the Japan where Fujita grew up with the Europe where he now lives. It's an attractive idea and well executed. Fujita is clearly excited to introduce us to the music of Akio Yashiro, who died at the young age of 46 and left behind a relatively small body of compositions. But there's also much to recommend his Chopin and especially Scriabin, despite my intermittent reservations on points of interpretation. The overarching result is a polished product that positively reflects the artistry of all represented, if unevenly so. 

We'll consider each group in chronological order. Fujita's best assets as a pianist are his subtle gradations and silky tone colors, especially in calmer passages. His weaknesses are a lack of intensity when the going gets stormy, and an occasional tendency to over-pedal. Given the wide gamut of character states in Chopin's much-loved Op. 28 preludes, everything here averages out to a qualified success. Some numbers are simply stunning, with the A Minor (No. 2) and F-Sharp Minor (No. 8) standing out. In the former, the gentle dissonances in the left hand have just the right amount of velvety bite. In the latter different shades of sound entirely offset some missing passion. I have rarely heard a more beautiful middle section in the F-Sharp Major (No. 13). On the other hand, I found the B-Flat Minor (No. 16) lacking in fire, with the E-Flat Major and D Minor (Nos. 19 and 24) exhibiting similar shortcomings. The F Minor (No. 18) is too halting and recitative-like. The G Minor (No. 22), however, bucks the trend and comes off as suitably fearsome. 

Fujita dispatches Scriabin's Op. 11 set with better interpretive aim and consistency. If he still occasionally underplays climaxes (as in No. 1 in C), there is nice passion in some of the others (hear Nos. 14, 18, and 24, for example). But it's in Scriabin's trademark languid moods where Fujita's sound is absolutely sumptuous; you're not going to hear much better Nos. 12-13. Another highlight is No. 21 in B-Flat, which bursts with major-key loveliness. 

I wish I could say the 24 preludes by Akio Yashiro match the creative level of the Chopin and Scriabin sets. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, they do not as a whole. Frankly I find most of them to be a bit on the quotidian side. However there are some important exceptions, the most notable of which is No. 18. This has a faint flavor of Sakura Sakura about it, but also a strong identity of its own. The slow tempo and soto-like figures in the right hand contribute to a vivid atmosphere that entirely pulls the listener in. I can't imagine very many pianists adopting the whole Yashiro cycle into their performing repertoire, but I can absolutely see this one piece attaining widespread prominence as an encore or other standalone offering. That it is by a 15-year-old composer just adds to one's astonishment. While none of Yashiro's other preludes quite reach this level for me, some with slower tempi come close (hear Nos. 14 and 16). 

So, please do listen to this for some good-to-great Chopin, some great Scriabin, and a few Yashiro gems that are worth the entire listening experience all by themselves. 

Verdict: Eagerly Recommended 

Monday, September 9, 2024

Farewell to Classical Candor

Early in 2023 I was asked by Karl Nehring to be a contributor to his classical music review blog, Classical Candor. Having gratefully accepted, I went on to author 15 recording reviews there in the space of about 16 months. I had intended to stay on longer, but I got very busy with my careers as a music history professor and orchestra manager. Unfortunately it was no longer possible to keep providing reviews for three outlets: Classical Candor, my site here, AND the occasional scholarly journal. I had to downsize, and I've made the decision to restrict my reviewing to The Ross Review for the foreseeable future. Academic research remains my top priority; criticism is just something I do for fun on the side. I only have so much time...

But I am a little sad to be leaving Classical Candor. It afforded me a great deal of reviewing practice, and I received wonderful support from Mr. Nehring and his staff. Working there taught me just how much I love engaging in criticism as a constructive outlet, and the many things about classical music I still have to learn. So as I sign off, I would like to thank Karl and the other gentlemen who made room for me on their site: Bill Heck, John Puccio, and Bryan Geyer. Whatever success comes of my reviewing, I owe a great deal to these individuals. I also encourage my readers to visit Classical Candor and browse their terrific content. The place is a treasure trove of insight. 

If you are interested in accessing my work there, here it is: 

1. Arnold: Commonwealth Christmas Overture Op. 64; Concerto No. 1 for Clarinet and Strings Op. 20; Divertimento No. 2 for Orchestra Op. 24/Op. 75; Larch Trees, Tone Poem for Orchestra Op. 3; Philharmonic Concerto for Orchestra Op. 120; The Padstow Lifeboat Op. 94A (March for Brass Band Arranged 2001 for Orchestra by Philip Lane). Michael Collins, clarinet; BBC Philharmonic; Yuri Torchinsky and Zoë Beyers, leaders; Rumon Gamba, conductor. Chandos CHAN 20152. 15 April 2023. 

2. Weinberg: String Quartet No. 4 in E-Flat Major, Op. 20; String Quartet No. 16 in A-Flat Minor, Op. 130. Arcadia Quartet. Chandos CHAN 20180. 3 May 2023. 

3. Nielsen: The Symphonies. Danish National Symphony Orchestra; Fabio Luisi, conductor. Deutsche Grammophon 486 3471 (3 CDs). 31 May 2023. 

4. Rautavaara: Piano Concerto No. 3 ‘Gift of Dreams’; Martinů: Piano Concerto No. 3. Olli Mustonen, piano; Lahti Symphony Orchestra; Dalia Stasevska, conductor. BIS-2532. 13 August 2023. 

5. Sibelius: Karelia Overture, Op. 10; Klami: Nummisuutarit; Melartin: Overture to ‘Prinsessa Ruusunen’, Op. 22; Madetoja: Comedy Overture, Op. 53; Järnefelt: Ouverture lyrique; Mielck: Dramatische Ouvertüre, Op. 6; Palmgren: Overture from ‘Tuhkimo-Sarja’, Op. 21; Kajanus: Overtura sinfonica; Kaski: Prélude, Op. 7 No. 1; Järnefelt: Praeludium. Oulu Sinfonia; Rumon Gamba, conductor. Chandos CHSA 5336. 8 October 2023. 

6. Rachmaninoff: The Piano Concertos and Paganini Rhapsody. Yuja Wang, piano; Los Angeles Philharmonic; Gustavo Dudamel, conductor. Deutsche Grammophon 486 4759 (2 CDs). 25 October 2023. 

7. Robert Müller-Hartmann: String Quartet No. 2; Three Intermezzi and Scherzo; Two Pieces for Cello and Piano; Violin Sonata. ARC Ensemble. Chandos CHAN 20294. 20 December 2023. 

8. Helvi Leiviska: Sinfonia brevis, Op. 30; Orchestral Suite No. 2, Op. 11; Symphony No. 2, Op. 27. Dalia Stasevska, conductor; Lahti Symphony Orchestra (Sinfonia Lahti). BIS-2701. 7 February 2024. 

9. Sibelius: Karelia Suite, Op. 11; Rakastava, Op. 14; Lemminkäinen, Op. 22. Susanna Mälkki, conductor; Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra. BIS-2638. 28 February 2024. 

10. Rachmaninoff: Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini; Respighi: Toccata for Piano and Orchestra; Casella: Partita for Piano and Orchestra. Joshua Pierce, piano; Anton Nanüt, conductor; RTV Slovenia Symphony Orchestra. MSR 1839. 3 April 2024. 

11. Britten: Sinfonia da Requiem, Op. 20; Spring Symphony, Op. 44; The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra, Op. 34. Elizabeth Watts, soprano; Alice Coote, mezzo-soprano; Allan Clayton, tenor; Tiffin Boys’ Choir, Tiffin Children’s Chorus; The Tiffin Girls’ School Choir; London Symphony Orchestra; Sir Simon Rattle, conductor. LSO Live LSO0830. 5 May 2024. 

12. Elgar: Symphony No. 1 in A-Flat; Symphony No. 2 in E-Flat. Sir Mark Elder, conductor; Hallé. Hallé CD HLD 7564. 19 May 2024. 

13. Sibelius: Symphony No. 2 in D, Op. 43; Symphony No. 5 in E-Flat, Op. 82. Yannick Nézet-Séguin, conductor; Orchestre Métropolitain de Montréal. ATMA Classique ACD 22453. 23 June 2024. 

14. Mendelssohn: Complete Symphonies; A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Op. 61 (excerpts). Paavo Järvi, conductor; Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich. Alpha Classics 1004. 4 discs. 17 July 2024. 

15. Weinberg: String Quartet No. 6 in E Minor, Op. 35; String Quartet No. 13, Op. 118; String Quartet No. 15, Op. 124. Arcadia Quartet. Chandos CHAN 20281. 11 August 2024.

Saturday, September 7, 2024

Recording Review #42: Two Trios 2













Mendelssohn: Piano Trios, Opp. 49 and 66. Joshua Bell, violinist; Steven Isserlis, cellist; Jeremy Denk, pianist. Sony Classical 19802832482.

What we have here are three celebrated musicians who have built quite separate performing identities. Even if you somehow don't already know who they are, a telling clue for their chamber effort here is the lack of an ensemble name. Such collaborations can sometimes come off relatively seamlessly, as Isaac Stern, Yo-Yo Ma, and Emanuel Ax (among others) have demonstrated. At other times folks like these betray the occasional nature of their partnership; chamber music (or at least chamber music with each other) isn't their main gig. 

If I place this recording firmly in the second category, I'm not saying it's "bad." It's just very much that kind of product, with advantages that may be disadvantages, or vice versa, depending upon one's perspective. It's a case of three big musical personalities who doubtless approach their task with ample goodwill, but who can't help being three big musical personalities. The result is interpretations that are full of interest and contain many breathtakingly played passages, but which are marked by a feeling of heterogeneity overall. This is easiest to notice in the outer movements of these two trios, where dynamic changes and accents are often steep, and where questions of attack, articulation, and line accentuation can feel mercurially realized over many measures. 

With any Romantic chamber repertoire involving piano, it matters disproportionately who your pianist is and what he/she brings to the table. Let's face it, this person is the glue of the ensemble and will determine the performance's visage like no one else. Jeremy Denk is certainly no slouch when it comes to technique. Moreover, I can't deny that he brings ample spontaneity to his playing, which some listeners will understandably find fresh and attractive. But what I'm missing from him is a sense of polished consistency, not to mention aristocratic refinement and Romantic sweep. For me these qualities mark the best pianism in Mendelssohn's two great trios. And while I don't let Bell and Isserlis entirely off the hook for the group's lapsed homogeneity, they're more on the same page with each other than Denk is with them. 

But it would be unfair not to point out some glorious moments. One is the climactic finish to the Andante of Op. 49. The whole movement is wonderful but this particular passage just sings, buttressed by some uncommonly rich string playing. (I'll admit, there are times in these chamber works when having world-beating soloists can be an advantage.) To my ears, the scherzo of Op. 66 is another highlight. My preference is still for more smoothness, but I can't deny that there is punch and spice to this group's rendition. It's one of the more interesting (in a good way) Op. 66 scherzo performances I've heard. 

I suppose one of the vicissitudes of our endless stream of canon repertoire recordings is the pressure performers feel to be original on well-trodden ground. Sometimes this leads to worthy things; often it just results in strainy messes. The present option isn't my preferred take on Mendelssohn's Piano Trios overall, but its truly special aspects add value to the catalog. As with the trios I reviewed in my previous post, I'd caution newcomers to sample other options before listening to this one. Since those are vast, I'll just list three recordings that remain exemplary among the many I've heard: Trio Wanderer (Harmonia Mundi HMC 901961), Florestan Trio (Hyperion CDA67485), and the Gould Piano Trio (Naxos 8.555063). All of these extol the aforementioned qualities I find lacking here despite other merits. 

Verdict: Recommended

Monday, September 2, 2024

Recording Review #41: Two Trios


 










Smetana: Piano Trio in G Minor, Op. 15; Schubert: Piano Trio No. 2 in E-Flat, D. 929. Trio Bohémo. Supraphon SU43442. 

I have a question: what did Smetana's only piano trio ever do to the Trio Bohémo? I assume it must have been something bad indeed to make them want to beat the stuffing out of it. I'm kidding...partially. Seriously, though, I have never heard this work played so loudly and forcefully as it is here. Is this some creative form of advocacy? Smetana is not quite a one-work composer, but he's close. Maybe the Trio Bohémo thought that to play this barely-memorable chamber work aggressively is to better drive it into the listener's recall, where it might share some space with The Moldau. Hard to say. But whether you remember it or not, it is in the end a mannered performance and scarcely recommendable as such. 

Schubert isn't anywhere near being a one-work composer. He would not be close to being so even if his astounding last year of masterworks had never happened. But even among those the E-Flat Piano Trio is a distinguished composition. The Trio Bohémo subjects it to nothing like the brutalization inflicted upon the Smetana. Funnily enough, though, their take on this masterpiece has an opposite problem: the quiet parts are noticeably underplayed. One particularly encounters this in the second movement (with that beautiful tune which recurs in the finale) and in the inner cello theme of the scherzo. The playing in these places and occasionally elsewhere lacks spark and expression, which are simply must-haves throughout what is one of Schubert's most poignant creations. I wouldn't call the performance bad through and through, but the listener has many better choices available. (The obvious place to start is with the Beaux Arts Trio on Philips 438 700-2.) 

And of course, other critics love this release. It was Presto Music's 'Recording of the Week' very recently. Go figure. It's certainly a different take on these two works, but again: different isn't always preferable. If you're new to them, I implore you to look elsewhere for a better first impression. This is an odd recording. Come back to it only after you've been properly introduced to its repertoire. 

Verdict: Collectors Only