Quick Takes: Batch #5 (Rubbra, Tüür, Haydn, Debussy, and Ireland)

Rubbra: Choral Music. Benjamin Hulett, tenor; François Cloete, organ; Benjamin Nicholas, conductor; Choir of Merton College, Oxford; Britten Sinfonia. Delphian DCD34332. 

These are excellent performances of sacred choral music etc. by Edmund Rubbra. The trouble is that, outside of church, university, and civic ensembles, the motet/mass genres don't exactly equate to public prestige. Opera and song have garnered the fanfare that evades these other vocal mediums. Additionally, Rubbra's music tends to suffer lesser popularity due to its gentle, priestly quality even in forceful moments. It's beautiful, even beguiling once you get accustomed to it. But it's not going to beat anyone over the head. For those interested in exploring his mystical world, and want to start with this disc, listen first to "Eternitie" from the Five Motets, Op. 37. This is a fantastic miniature that just may be your key to unlocking the other repertoire offered here. Rubbra's music deserves fans. If you listen to this and it's not your thing, by all means try something else. Verdict: Recommended.

Erkki-Sven Tüür: Phantasma; Symphony No. 10 "ÆRIS"; De Profundis. Olari Elts, conductor; Estonian National Symphony Orchestra. ECM New Series 2784. 

I pretty much guessed what I was getting into right before I tried this out of curiosity. Yep, more modernist noise. I mean, look at these titles. Pretension just drips off of them. I could rhetorically claim that I don't see the point of this music, but I actually do. I just don't think it's a very good point. This is all the usual hot air that goes on for far too long and contains nary a tune or anything else a non-dweeb can relate to whatsoever. It's stretches of sound clouds and architecture; in short, it's all concept. Unfortunately, Nordic composers born around a certain time were eager to show that they could "get beyond" Sibelius and Nielsen. They got beyond them, all right. But getting back would be an improvement. Verdict: Gross. 

Haydn: Baryton Trios Vol. 3 (Hob. XI:26, 50, 57, 72, 80, and 82). Valencia Baryton Project. Naxos 8.574708. 

I won't pretend to have heard all 120-odd baryton trios by Haydn. But once in a while I'll pull out a recording of 5 or 6 of them in the hope that one will imprint upon my heart and memory. It hasn't happened yet. Haydn may have used these works to please his employer and develop compositional skills. But who believes they contain any of his most inspired music? That isn't a slam against this recording or its musicians, who do a fine job with what they're given. It simply means that if you're like me, you'll value what's here as an historical curiosity and pleasant background fare. The series tagline reads "Treasures from the Eszterháza Palace," but "Artifacts" might be a better first word. Buy this recording if you're pursuing a complete sense of Haydn's compositional activities, or just wanting some fluffily nice music. Pass if you're looking for your next Surprise Symphony or Emperor Quartet experience. Verdict: Mildly Recommended.

Archipel. Aline Piboule, pianist. Harmonia Mundi HMM 902776. 

Now this is how you do a solo piano album! The title, Archipel, is French for "archipelago," and most selections relate to islands, the sea, or some relatable natural element. It pairs the music of Debussy with that of...wait for it...John Ireland! A cynic might say that this only shows how much the Englishman owes to the towering French master. But two things here can be true: yes, Ireland was heavily influenced by Debussy, but he also has a real voice of his own. He's represented here by Sarnia: An Island Sequence and Decorations, two of his finest miniature suites. Debussy's fare is more familiar: Claire de Lune, D'un cahier d'esquisses, the L. 82 Nocturne, and Yann Olivio's solo piano transcription of La Mer. This last item is instructive: much of the original work depends upon orchestral timbres to make its sonorities best felt, and the materials seem more modest stripped of that context. But Piboule gives a tremendous account of both this and the other pieces, with a versatility that is at turns bracing and intimate when needed. She respects the power of momentum without ever rushing. Her tone colors are gorgeous. Finally, I love her choice of the Yamaha instrument, whose bright sound she uses to dazzling effect. John Ireland is unlikely to get better advocacy than this. Verdict: Highly Recommended.

Quick Takes: Batch #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. 

Recording Review #66: Sumptuous Scarlatti

Domenico Scarlatti: Selected Keyboard Sonatas. Javier Perianes, pianist. Harmonia Mundi HMM902768. 

Here's another lesson in the value of repeat listens. My immediate impression on jumping right into the first sonata (K. 491, D Major) was "yuck, what is he doing!?" Compared to the steady, drier performance by Vladimir Horowitz that I was used to (see Sony SK 53460), Perianes's somewhat freer take initially came as a jolt. But I pressed on, and every subsequent selection in this well-chosen assortment of sonatas soothed my apprehensions...so much that when I went back to listen to K. 491 again I was significantly more amenable to what Perianes does with it. It took me a little while to embrace his vision for this music. I'm glad I finally did. 

What I eventually realized is that Perianes performs these works in an unapologetically pianistic manner, as opposed to following the commonly-adopted, neat-and-crisp approach that seems to carry the obligatory nod toward the harpsichord. The latter may be what I'm accustomed to, but the truth is that Perianes more closely realizes the implications of something I've long thought: Domenico Scarlatti had a strong proto-Romantic streak. It was Perianes's glowing performances of the slow numbers especially that helped convert me to his K. 491 and other quick ones. I've heard the famous K. 466 F Minor many times, but rarely so "nocturney" as it's played here. Other slow numbers with which I was less (or not) familiar – K. 185 (another F Minor) and K. 128 (one of just TWO Scarlatti sonatas in B-Flat Minor!) – come off similarly. 

Other highlights include the K. 492 D Major, which Perianes imbues with more color and life than in every other performance I remember hearing. Then there's perhaps the most famous Scarlatti sonata of all – K. 380 in E Major. I think I've already mentioned on this blog that the latter work reminds me of Christmas somehow. If I had heard it right after K. 491 during my first listen-through, I might not have had the heart to continue. But by this 13th track Perianes had basically won me over. It's still like Christmas to me, but maybe there are slightly different lights and ornaments on the tree. 

I've heard many Scarlatti albums by now, and a good deal of them contain a less-frequently-performed sonata that becomes a new favorite of mine. In this case the honor goes to the K. 193 E-Flat Major. What an amazing piece of different moods and hues! If I were to hunt down and listen (or re-listen) to other renditions of it, I feel confident by now Perianes's would more than hold its own. I'm grateful to him for showing me that there is plenty more to be experienced in performances of these 555 delights.  

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Recording Review #19: Four-Hand "Fun"

 

Schubert: Divertissement à la Hongroise, D. 818; Fantasie in F Minor, D. 940/Leonid Desyatnikov: Trompe-l'œil. Pavel Kolesnikov and Samson Tsoy, piano. Harmonia Mundi HMM902716. 

I mean...the blurry cover kind of says it all: this is gonna be "daring," y'all. Like, totally set apart from other recordings of this repertoire. Totally. And did you get the "daring" part? This album is EDGY. Like, yeah. 

And that's a shame. Because apart from some shenanigans, there are stretches of fine playing here. Maybe not superlative playing, but very decent at times. (A bit more on this later.) So what are the shenanigans? Well, the performers occasionally place items on the piano strings to alter the sound and thereby evoke "the 'janissary' effects that certain period instruments were equipped to produce." This statement comes from the liner notes, which divulge similarly strange ideas about how they conceive of this music by Schubert. But yeah, seriously: my listening was intermittently jolted by George Crumb-like timbres right in the middle of a given passage when I wasn't expecting it. (Actually, after a while I was kind of expecting it...I guess that's the drawback of using shock tactics.) 

If that weren't bad enough, the listener gets assaulted with a composition by Leonid Desyatnikov, placed between the two Schubert works. This would be Trompe-l'œil, which consists of nothing but disembodied wisps from Schubert's Fantasie amidst a bunch of noise (including plenty of hyper-dissonant piano pounding). I kind of snort-chuckled not long in when I realized what it was all about. Then it kept going. After five minutes passed I muttered to myself, "when does this thing end, anyway?" I glanced at the time index. 20+ MINUTES OF THIS?? Just...why?? What for?? Schubert wrote a bunch of four-hand piano repertoire. And while almost none of it is on the level of the great Fantasie, most is nevertheless wonderful. Why not include a third such selection instead? You know, like pianists Zhu Xiao-Mei and Alexandre Tharaud do on their own HM recording of the Divertissement and Fantasie (HMC901773)? But I was forgetting: this newer album is AUDACIOUS, yo. Gotta flex that hip cred. Or something. 

Okay, stripping all of the nonsense away, what are we dealing with here? Like I said, there is some fine playing. I like Kolesnikov's and Tsoy's Divertissement à la Hongroise finale in particular, which most four-hand pianists play much too anemically. (By the way, if you don't know this piece already, go and listen to it ASAP! It's one of the many lesser-sung glories of Schubert's output.) I feel pep, and hear some wonderfully smooth, articulative playing both here and elsewhere. The biggest problem, apart from the afore-mentioned theatrics, is a love of rendering the soft parts TOO softly. It's very difficult to hear things properly in these places...especially in the Fantasie, unfortunately. 

All in all, I'd have to say that the positives don't justify tolerating everything else. There are some good recordings of the Divertissement, and many of the Fantasie (though I haven't yet heard one to match that of Murray Perahia and the late Radu Lupu on Sony SK 39511). Opt for some of those instead. They'll feature playing that's at least as good but without the pretension mixed in. 

Avoid