New Review at Classical Candor

I couldn't stay away; I started reviewing music for Classical Candor again. First upon my return is the lovely third volume in Chandos's Ruth Gipps orchestral works series. Take a look: https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2025/02/ruth-gipps-orchestral-works-volume-3-cd.html

Recording Review #63: Scrumptious Scarlatti

Domenico Scarlatti: Complete Keyboard Sonatas, Vol. 29. Emanuil Ivanov, pianist. Naxos 8.574633. 

I haven't been able to determine how many more recordings Naxos will require to finish their complete Scarlatti keyboard sonatas series. But since we're already at Volume 29, and given the rough number of these works that usually appear on a single disc, it seems safe to assume we're nearing the end. In a sense I'm sad, because I've loved the regular stream of fantastic recordings of Scarlatti sonatas. I'm loathe for it to stop. Yes, these 555 works have all been recorded multiple times...some much more than others. And while there are plenty of very good options for them, for once I take the view of "the more the merrier" when it comes to new releases. Especially as it involves Naxos, the label that first made me a Scarlatti-oholic with that early selections disc featuring Balázs Szokolay (Naxos 8.550252). 

It's also been fun to see which sonatas Naxos chooses to go on their different installments in the series. Whoever is tasked with this seems to shrewdly make sure that a diverse mix of familiar and obscure fleshes out each offering. So it proves here. Of the 16 selections on Volume 29, the K. 303 Sonata in C Minor, occupying the seventh track, is likely to be most known to listeners if for no other reason than because Vladimir Horowitz included it in his own Celebrated Scarlatti Recordings. (See Sony SK 53460.) This is a good place, then, to begin measuring Emanuil Ivanov's new release. While Horowitz's interpretation of this sonata perhaps has more depth and imagination, Ivanov's own is nonetheless equally satisfying from the standpoint of taste and consistency. 

Ivanov's K. 303 is typical of every other selection here. If there is one word that sums up his playing it might be "adroitness." He brings a satisfying pianistic toolkit to the various challenges that present themselves in these works. A handful of examples may suffice. In K. 73 he differentiates declamatory and gentler sections/materials nicely. In K. 137 and K. 255 he deploys well-executed terrace dynamics, which are so crucial to rendering Scarlatti's sonatas on a modern piano. K. 117 and the Bach-like K. 85 especially showcase an admirably sharp articulation. But perhaps both K. 223 (with its quirks and sudden moments of lyricism) and K. 236 (one of the more technically difficult sonatas) demonstrate Ivanov's gifts most of all. This disc is worth its (inexpensive!) price on the strength of these latter two performances alone. 

There is no bad place to start with Scarlatti's sonatas. The lesser-known ones often delight as much as the often-played. Whether you're a noob or a veteran of this repertoire, Naxos's 29th volume is a winner that repays investment. 

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Recording Review #62: A Feeling for Field

 

Field: Complete Nocturnes. Alice Sara Ott, pianist. Deutsche Grammophon 486 623-8. 

The conventional wisdom on Irish composer John Field (1782-1837) is that, while his music itself may not be all that interesting, he was the 'Father of the Nocturne' and an important forerunner to much more imposing figures like Felix Mendelssohn and Frédéric Chopin. I won't dismiss this sentiment entirely, but I do want to stick up a bit for Field's Nocturnes specifically. It's true that they're mostly of a mild flavor compared with Chopin's. But let's be honest: whose aren't? Still, I wouldn't call them bland. At least, not most. All have a charming pleasantness that makes them worth an occasional airing. If nothing else they're a nifty aesthetic window into early 19th-century taste. But the best ones (among others Nos. 5, 11, 13, 15, and 16) are considerably more than just pleasant; they have moments of real intrigue. In the hands of the right performer, they can hold their own even in the company of the genre's more famous essays. 

And I have to say, Alice Sara Ott is definitely the right performer. More than a few interpretations of Field's Nocturnes sound uninspired. But Ott really seems to believe in these pieces. Her conviction makes the music punch above its weight. First, she achieves a silky smooth sound that wonderfully fits Field's trend-setting hallmark of the genre: alternatingly dreamy and languid moods. Actually, the cover of this album gives you a great visual equivalent. (Well done here, by the way! Many album covers leave me bored or annoyed. Not this one.) Concomitant with this is a treatment of melody that appreciably accentuates the most poignant turns of phrase. (Observe her handlings of the bel canto-like tune in No. 5, the pathos-tinged "rounding out" figure in No. 11, and the undulating main theme featured in No. 13.)

But Ott also meets the challenge of Field's other trend-setting hallmark of the nocturne: its occasional forays into inexplicable character states. The 16th Nocturne (in C Major), clocking in at over 8 minutes long, has several flights of fancy. Ott does a fine job of corralling its various guises (contemplative, sullen, passionate, humorful, dramatic, etc.) into a convincing whole. Similarly, the 17th Nocturne (also in C) pulls the performer out of the default languid/dreamy state and demands interpretive versatility. Ott is every bit up to the challenge, managing to sound suitably playful here without taking away from the gorgeous sound established at the outset. 

I'm a big fan of performers choosing repertoire that suits their gifts. Unfortunately this isn't always possible, due to financial or other incentives. But again, there's no question that Alice Sara Ott is a splendid fit for John Field's Nocturnes. Would that all slightly neglected (and/or slightly less respected) repertoire find such an advocate. 

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Recording Review #61: Mishandled Mahler

 

Mahler: Symphony No. 7; Simon Rattle, conductor; Symphonieorchester Des Bayerischen Rundfunks. BR Klassik 900217. 

By now the notion that Gustav Mahler's Seventh Symphony is an enigmatic work has become something of a cliché. But I don't think it's very enigmatic at all. A small amount of imagination (and a touch of homework) make things pretty straightforward. The composer's wife Alma authoritatively associated the second Nachtmusik movement with the poetry of Joseph von Eichendorff, identifying it with "murmuring springs and German Romanticism." Furthermore, Mahler had been conducting Tristan und Isolde in the time leading up to his Seventh Symphony's composition. This opera's second act is a lengthy glorification of the nighttime world, where the eponymous lovers cozily resist the coming of day when they have to face their sticky situation. It is not at all difficult to hear echoes of Tristan throughout Mahler's 7th. These things together make it virtually plain that the so-called Song of the Night is a musical tribute to the nocturnal world in all of its glories, real and imagined. The finale is a rude awakening to match the final act of Tristan. It marks the dream's end; mundane reality takes over. But these associations have been lost upon  many commentators. The most fatuous of these folks might be Theodor W. Adorno, whose lambasting of the Seventh's finale is an epic failure of imagination. (See Adorno, Mahler: A Musical Physiognomy.)

It's true that Adorno's take on Mahler's Seventh makes that of Simon Rattle in this recording look good. But this is a pretty low bar, and Rattle has a problem that both men share in their respective mediums: too much intellect and not enough intuition. This Mahler 7's sound is pristine, its performance decisions meticulous, its control impeccable, and its playing gorgeous. But Rattle just doesn't really "get" the music on a gut level. There's little feeling of "German Romanticism," because Rattle doesn't have that much feeling for Romanticism to begin with. His musical sensibility is a cerebral one, with a focus on sonority and experimentation. His natural home is with material that flatters these tendencies: compositions by Stravinsky, Bartók, Adès, and so forth. It isn't with anything that calls for lusty emotional expression. To be a successful Mahler conductor, one must have an instinct for his passions. Instead, Rattle can only wield the feeble substitute of calculation.

So what specifically contributes to this impression? Occasionally it's the tempi. The first movement should at times be fitful in order to create narrative suspense. But Rattle's pace can better be described as sluggish. Worse still is his quick tempo in the fourth movement. It just feels mechanical, with no glimmer of the night-time fountains and colors that an Eichendorff-ish setting would suggest. This movement just hums along like a sewing machine, with about as much feeling. We get a fairly humdrum finale, too. But here for once Rattle's coldness is exactly what's needed: this is the bustling break of day that dispels the magic of the first four movements. Think King Mark's men busting in on Tristan and Isolde, disrupting their ethereal night-time union. But it's too bad that Rattle never established much of a dream in the first place. "Waking up" here therefore feels a bit indifferent. 

Even more than overall tempi, Rattle's phrase shapings betray his lack of affinity. The simplest way to understand this might be to measure the present performance against those of conductors with a better Mahlerian grip. Observe Leonard Bernstein leading the NYPhil (DG 419-211-2), for instance. There is gusto in his dotted rhythms, and melodic turns of phrase are shaped in ways that relay an easy grasp of Mahler's expressive mannerisms. Rattle by comparison tries to finesse his way through, rarely seeing the forest for the trees. Similarly to how I described Yuja Wang's stilted Rachmaninoff (here), he almost tries to emulate someone who attitudinally understands this music better than he does. 

Much is often made of Mahler being one of the first 20th-century "modernists" in music. If you have read my musicological writing, you know how much I detest the over- and mis-use of this word. If Mahler was a Modernist (or even a modernist), he was still much more of a 19th-century Romantic in temperament. I think Simon Rattle is psychologically the reverse. If (as I believe) far fewer people need to be conducting Mahler, and trying to cash in on his present popularity, Rattle should be one of the first to seek pastures more conducive to his gifts. His Mahler 7 here is highly competent...even more competent than his earlier recording with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (EMI 0777 7 54344 2 2). It's just not very magical. And if the Song of the Night needs one thing to come off properly, it's magic. 

Recommendation: Avoid; instead go for the Bernstein recording mentioned earlier...or the celebrated one by Claudio Abbado and the CSO (DG 445-513-2).  

Recording Review #60: Quibbles for Kantorow

Brahms • Schubert. Alexandre Kantorow, pianist. BIS-2660. 

Some things are just awkward. For instance, titling a CD release "Brahms • Schubert" when about half of the Schubert heard on it is in the form of Liszt's song transcriptions. But I suppose one can hardly name the thing "Brahms • Liszt-Schubert • Schubert," or "Brahms • (Liszt) Schubert," or even "Brahms • Liszt • Schubert". Does this sound picky? Okay, maybe it is. Still, I don't think everyone appreciates just how much Liszt one hears in these arrangements. The title almost works, but not quite. A stone in the proverbial shoe. 

Which is kind of a good metaphor for how I view the performances on this release. For me the Brahms sonata really works, and the Liszt-Schubert song transcriptions REALLY work. I can even get behind this Wanderer Fantasy...for the most part. It's Kantorow's take on the third movement thingie (I dunno, do you really call this a movement? More awkwardness!) that hangs me up most. The problem is that he often likes to alter the tempo for expressive effect. Which is fine in moderation. But it's distracting when it happens a lot or disrupts material where one wishes for a consistent rhythm...as in the dance-like third section (there we go!) of the Wanderer Fantasy. The thing really just needs to move, but instead Kantorow ends up making it feel more pent-up than poetic. Occasionally I get this in the Brahms, too, though in the sonata setting it's a bit less problematic. But this is all unnecessary for Kantorow. He has a SPLENDID array of tone colors, not to mention a lovely sotto voce sound and breathtaking virtuosic dash. Over-reliance upon rubato to distinguish his performances is just gilding the lily. 

A smaller quibble over Kantorow's Wanderer Fantasy is the way he plows through the closing Allegro, in what is an opposite interpretive extreme from the previous section. I can understand this to a point; it's a big, showy finish. But we really need to hear those wondrous harmonies and other materials in better relief. Some restraint would be good here. Again, I crave just a bit more consistency. 

The Brahms First Sonata performance is, tiny quibbles aside, magnificent. Kantorow captures all of its epic sweep and youthful passions without losing sight of the work's sinews. There's a structural command here that is missing in the Wanderer Fantasy performance, "Fantasy" though it be. Maybe most of all, Kantorow is adept at balancing the different voices. Not only does he ALWAYS KNOW WHERE THE MELODY LIES, but he also shades those other lines in gossamer hues. This isn't something that just any pianist can do well. It's a special gift, which Kantorow further deploys in his well-chosen Schubert-Liszt offerings. This is some of the best playing of these pieces I have heard. (Included is Der Wanderer, D. 489, upon which the Fantasy is based.) 

Sometimes a recording will make you feel torn. You may not like everything on it, or how everything on it is done. But you're certain that it's worth enjoying and revisiting all the same. Some of Kantorow's decisions here aren't my favorite, but I like what he does well considerably more than I dislike those [poorer] decisions. And so I'll gladly live with my quibbles. 

Verdct: Highly Recommended, especially for the Brahms sonata and Schubert • Liszt (sorry • not sorry) song transcriptions