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. 

New Reviews at Classical Candor

Classical Candor recently published two CD reviews of mine. The first (treating the latest Weinberg string quartet series installment from Chandos) is available here: https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2025/05/weinberg-string-quartets-volume-5-cd.html

The second review considers the latest Ruth Gipps orchestral music volume, also from Chandos: https://classicalcandor.blogspot.com/2025/05/ruth-gipps-orchestral-works-volume-4-cd.html

I am significantly preoccupied with all sorts of projects at the present, which explains my lack of activity here. I will post as I am able. Thanks for reading!

Recording Review #55: Winsome Williams

Grace Williams: Orchestral Works (Four Illustrations for the Legend of Rhiannon; Castell Caernarfon; Ballads; Sea Sketches for String Orchestra). John Andrews, conductor; BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. Resonus RES10349. 

In late 1939, Ralph Vaughan Williams wrote this to his student, Grace Williams, about her new Four Illustrations for the Legend of Rhiannon: "Dearest Grace, I listened in on Tuesday. All is much clearer & more direct & purposeful than it used to be. I liked the last movement best (I expect I oughtn’t to) & the slow – the others not so much – But the whole thing is certainly a great advance." If I had stopped at one listen through I might've agreed with old RVW. But I'll wager I took a few more passes than he did, and with every one this music grew on me. So much so that I'm now ready to consider it a British classic. 

The Four Illustrations musically portray episodes from the life of Rhiannon, a remarkable figure of Welsh mythology whose exploits are detailed in The Mabinogion. Williams illustrates each scene in highly idiomatic fashion. There is a definite folk inflection, with Lydian and other modal seasonings adding to the overall flavor. Earworm melodies frequently get repeated with slight variation. Harmony is often static, with emphasis on savoring rich sonorities. Lest this all doesn't sound like much, I was riveted. I have a weakness for the mythic; the Iliad and Odyssey, L. Frank Baum's Santa Claus origin story, and the Kalevala are some of my favorite reads. They fire my imagination in a way that I can almost believe (or at least wish I believed) their events actually took place in some far away age when enchantment and epic deeds were still possible. Likewise I get transfixed every time I listen to Sibelius's Kullervo, so powerfully evocative is its legendary mood. Hearing it for the first time was a revelation. I'm not prepared to argue that Grace Williams had Sibelius's overall talent. But I'll say without apology that her knack for eliciting this specific kind of feeling is comparably strong. It's evident that she deeply identified with her native Welsh heritage. Good for her!

Similar things could be said of the Ballads, even though there is no explicit program attached to them. This is a much later work (1968) that shows Williams kept her gift for legend-painting across her career. Initially I thought she must have borrowed actual folk tunes for each. But after reading Leah Broad's informative liner notes, and other materials close at hand, I found no indication of this. The melodies are apparently just that good! In addition, one frequently gets the impression of harp or lute strumming from how Williams treats her rhythms and harmonies, which is of course commensurate with the title. I'll definitely be returning to this music!

Dating from around the same time of the Ballades is Castell Caernarfon, a kind of miniature tone poem commissioned for the investiture of the Prince of Wales. It's in the same general vein as the aforementioned pieces. But here I have to be more critical. The musical materials are pleasant, even inspired. But they're stretched out too much to make this work as thoroughly compelling as the sets of miniatures. I won't say that Williams is strictly a miniaturist (she convincingly demonstrates otherwise in her symphonies and extended chamber works), but with Castell I perceive some tension between content and medium. 

However, we're back to Williams at her best with the Sea Sketches for String Orchestra. Her ability to sonically envision seascapes is nearly as good as her penchant for legendary scenes. These pieces each have their own titles: High Wind; Sailing South; Channel Sirens; Breakers; and Calm Sea in Summer. All are easy on the ear, and some have splendid tunes in them (I'm thinking particularly of the first and last numbers). Here as elsewhere you can hear the influence of her famous teacher, as well as that of other greats. But Williams is also very much her own composer. On the strength of the selections rendered here, it's a creative voice that deserves to be heard in the concert hall with much more regularity. 

John Andrews and the BBC Philharmonic provide splendid performances. It's clear even without knowing other recordings of this music that their sound and sensitivity are a good match for it. Their disc will appear in my "Finds of the Year" list, which I plan to write up in late December. It provides an abundantly rewarding listening experience. 

Verdict: Highly Recommended