Recording Review #73: A Groggy Gerontius

Elgar: The Dream of Gerontius, Op. 38. Karen Cargill (Angel); Roland Wood (Priest and Angel of Agony); David Butt Philip (Gerontius); Martyn Brabbins, conductor; Huddersfield Choral Society; Orchestra of Opera North. Hyperion CDA68461/2.

When I reviewed Paul McCreesh's Signum Records Gerontius for Nineteenth-Century Music Review last year (DOI: https://doi.org/10.1017/S1479409825100621), I began by noting that there were not all that many complete entries in the catalogue (just north of two dozen). But I may have spoken too soon. Including this new one on Hyperion, there have been THREE released since the McCreesh. And while I can't say if there are more in preparation, it seems like this oratorio has become something of a bandwagon. Mostly this is a pity: almost none of them match the best ones that have long been available. That very much includes this newcomer directed by Martyn Brabbins. 

We have two main problems here. The first and more serious one is that Brabbins just doesn't have the moxie to be conducting a dramatic, post-Wagnerian oratorio. His energy tends to be low, and his instincts too much favor cool balance and reserve. He's best in music like Vaughan Williams's Pastoral Symphony or Walton's Second Symphony...things that flatter his relative introversion. In Gerontius he holds back his very good vocal soloists with poor tempo decisions and a lack of bold orchestral gestures. When the protagonist is on his deathbed in the first part, we need to have more desperation. I get the sense that David Butt Philip (who really has a great voice and sense of purpose here) wants to let this rip, but he's held back by a dampening Brabbins and OON. It comes off lethargic instead of desperate. Particularly plodding is the "Sanctus fortis" section, which should be alive with existential dread. It needs a faster tempo. Poor Gerontius goes through enough in this story; do we really want to drag out his death, too? Brabbins gets let off the hook somewhat in the overall calmer second part, where the Angel is leading Gerontius around in the afterlife. But even here I think he could have driven home the emotional highs more consistently. The part toward the end when the poor man is judged and consigned to Purgatory is almost limp. Again, Philip does his best, but the orchestra under Brabbins gives him little dramatic help.

The second problem is the decision to use an amateur choir. Yes, I know: this work has a long tradition with such societies, and one of my favorite recordings even uses an earlier cast of this very Huddersfield Choral Society (Malcolm Sargent and Heddle Nash on Testament SBT2025). But while Paul McCreesh's 2024 effort is not my preferred one, his group of professionals convinced me that you really need a skillful chorus for parts of this to work best. Or maybe just a better group of amateurs. The HCS here sounds rough at times. If you listen carefully, you can hear the heterogeneous makeup of the group, a sensation familiar to anyone who has sung in an average amateur ensemble. It comes out especially in the demons chorus and 'Be merciful' stretch at the outset. In louder portions, such as Gerontius's send-off at the end of the first part, and in the 'Praise to the Holiest in the height' area in Part II, the massed sound resembles a church congregation, with all that entails. In my review of the McCreesh, I criticized the choir for not being crass enough in the demons part. Well, here we have a rather incidental crassness, but we also lose a sheeny sound. I guess you can't have it all. 

In spite of what I'm saying, I would be fine with all of this in a live regional performance. But that's not the same as listening to a recording. Some things more advantageously pass in the moment, never to be experienced again. A recording is an artifact – a monument with a strong claim to posterity. And I'm afraid this particular one isn't very monumental. 

Verdict: Not Recommended

Recording Review #53: A Herculean Hammerklavier

 

Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 29 in B-Flat, Op. 106 "Hammerklavier"; Piano Sonata No. 3 in C, Op. 3, No. 2. Marc-André Hamelin, pianist. Hyperion CDA68456. 

Beethoven's Hammerklavier Sonata is so big and multi-faceted that most recordings of it seem only to excel in a small number of aspects, if they excel in any. I could count almost on one hand the performances I feel are consistently superlative. I say so partially to mollify my opinion here that this latest release from Marc-André Hamelin isn't among them. It's one thing to be able to bring off such a notoriously difficult piece at all; it's quite another to do it in distinguished fashion. Good Hammerklaviers are relatively plentiful; great ones remain uncommon. 

Actually Hamelin's really is a good one, with much to commend it. Best of all is the strength and technique he brings. I know, I know...his reputation for technical supremacy is low-hanging critical fruit by now. But the more Hammerklaviers I've listened to, the more I've noticed when even just a little bit is lacking in the virtuosity department. There are many SLOW and RICKETY Hammerklaviers. (Not all of them stretch back to the early recording era!) This is music that really needs some muscle, particularly in the first movement and portions of the finale. Hamelin has muscle to spare; his Hammerklavier is anything but rickety. 

Next, there needs to be a delicate touch, with appropriate poetry for deeply expressive passages like these: 

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How a pianist renders such figures is a crucial ingredient. Many blur or race through them. Others play them at appropriate tempi or softness but lack the tone colors necessary for special interpretations. I have to say that Hamelin falls into the second category. He supplies the requisite sensitivity, with nice piano and sotto voce abilities. These have carried him splendidly through a great deal of repertoire, especially the neglected varieties that he has made a well-deserved name recording. But the Hammerklavier might be the most unforgiving solo piano challenge of all; it repeatedly shows who has (and doesn't have) what. To my ear Hamelin pays for his superhuman technique with limitations in tone color. Again, in most of the music he performs this is not a serious deficit. However with the Hammerklavier all I can do is admire some areas of his playing while wishing his sound were more magical in certain places. 

This practically defines the slow movement. But here I'm going to give Hamelin compensatory credit for moving things along in a way that the listener can well apprehend the structure. Too many pianists languish in this part, which can get gelatinous in a hurry. It's a great test of imagination, but it's also a test of not letting the interpretation run away with itself. Thankfully, Hamelin charts a well-conceived path through this forest. 

What can you say about the fugal finale that hasn't been said so many times before? It's a brutal challenge in almost every way. First and foremost it's a test of control – finger control, line control, dynamic control, expressive control, etc. What's amazing is how many pianists I would consider to be great in other contexts make a mess out of this grand closer. Rest assured, Hamelin is not one them. He convincingly wins every single control battle. But something extra is lacking. He dispatches fearsome technical and contrapuntal difficulties only to somehow make them sound anticlimactic. He exercises such expressive control that I'm missing the expression; there's not much of an animating spark. After a Hammerklavier that could be called "Herculean," I'm in the (ungrateful?) position of wishing it were somehow more. Not a comfortable feeling. 

I'll end on a mostly positive note. I absolutely LOVE the Op. 3/2 C-Major Sonata pairing! (You can witness my high regard for this sonata in my rankings of all 32 Beethoven works in the genre, here.) It directly recalls the appearance of the two sonatas together in Sviatoslav Richter's UK recital releases. This sonata is mainly bright and joyous music, with an adagio slow movement that I consider to be the equal (or more) of the famous Moonlight Sonata opener. Hamelin's performance is maybe a tad on the heavy side, but he plays with suitable spirit throughout. 

A solid offering, all in all. Beginners coming to these sonatas for the first time through this recording are going to be decently served. I predict that seasoned listeners probably won't make it their new favorite for either piece, but Hamelin is a popular figure who elicits a great deal of goodwill from classical music fans. So who knows? 

Verdict: Recommended

Recording Review #23: Good Grieg

 

Grieg: Holberg Suite; Ballade; Lyric Pieces (selections). Andrey Gugnin, piano. Hyperion CDA68424. 

Assessments of Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg (1843-1907) usually go something like this, complete with wagging jowls: "[HARUMPH!] Grieg had not that rarefied genius to place him on Mount Olympus with fellow Romantic composers Wagner and Brahms, but in his own small way he was a notable 19th-century composer." 

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Poppycock. It's the kind of blinkered thinking that comes from critics and academics for whom radical innovation and large-scale form are everything. In terms of melody, atmosphere, and unmistakable stamp of personality, Grieg was one of the very best. Of course, these things have counted less with "experts" burdened by eccentric priorities. But as David Hurwitz has shrewdly said, "musicology doesn't know what to do with a good tune." Indeed. 

But practically everyone else does, and that's why Grieg's music still gets lots of love and exposure more than a century on from his death. It's also why there is no shortage of recordings to choose from, including those of his solo piano music. Andrey Gugnin, then, faces formidable competition from a host of fine options available to listeners. All the more so because he has picked some of the most popular works to perform: the Holberg Suite, and the Opp. 43 and 62 sets of Lyric Pieces. 

So how does he fare? For the most part very well. Gugnin feels this music in all the right ways. His tempi are perfect, and his dynamics are extremely well executed throughout. Particularly gorgeous are the "Air" from the Holberg Suite (the very soul of that work) and "To Spring" from the Op. 43 miniatures. For some reason, too many pianists ruin the latter with too much speed and/or passion. But Gugnin treats it tenderly, like the flower it is. Exquisite stuff!

I won't lie, the Ballade has never been my favorite work by Grieg. Compared to these other pieces, I think the inspiration flags just a tad here. But Gugnin is every bit up to giving it a sympathetic reading. What helps is that he brings a kaleidoscope of tone colors to the task, which we hear straightaway in the theme, never mind a whole range of little shadings to follow in the variations. 

Here is a release that holds its own in distinguished company: Andsnes, Gilels, Gavrilov, etc. And while Gugnin VEEEEERY occasionally lacks their "pop," it's not enough to keep this release from being a firm buy for the Grieg fan and beyond. 

Highly Recommended

Recording Review #12: Convivial Concerti

The Romantic Piano Concerto #87. Reinecke: Piano Concerto No. 3 in C, Op. 144; Konzertstück, Op. 33/Sauer: Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor. Simon Callaghan, piano; Modestas Pitrėnas, conductor; Sinfonieorchester St Gallen. Hyperion CDA68429. 

Hyperion's Romantic Piano Concerto series is something for which we should all be grateful. It allows us to sample broad swaths of repertoire mostly laying forgotten. Thereby we have the chance to discover things which surprise and delight. It also helps us to contextualize familiar masterpieces, and see them in better relief. How do we really know that the perennially beloved Brahms, Grieg, Schumann etc. piano concertos were the best of their time? Well, by listening to as much of everything else as we can and learning to appreciate those other scores too, despite the fact that they may rarely supplant the privileged few in our affections. It was through this very series that I first discovered multiple neglected concerti I came to adore. I still listen to them today. My musical life would be poorer if these works by Arensky, Balakirev, and Scharwenka (to name just a few) had not been imprinted upon my imagination. Sure, there have been many other instances where I've said, "yeah, this is pleasant and all, but it doesn't really do anything for me." And that's fine; at least I had the chance to listen and decide for myself. If nothing else, more knowledge is always good. 

So how was this outing? Better than average, I'd say. Of these three concertante pieces, only one am I fine with not revisiting again any time soon. The other two I'd be glad to hear in the future (particularly in concert, but that's probably a pipe dream). We'll briefly treat each in descending order of my preference. 

I'd be lying if I said I've heard anywhere close to all of Carl Reinecke's huge composition catalogue. But I had already been familiar with some entries, including what is easily his most performed work today – the Undine Sonata for Flute and Piano. This is still very popular among undergraduate flutists, and with good reason: it is passionate, moving, and sticks in the memory. Nothing else I've heard by Reinecke quite matches it by these measures. (He was an academic and often composed like one.) But the Third Piano Concerto of 1877 comes fairly close. Having heard each of his four piano concerti, which are now all recorded by Hyperion, I think No. 3 is the best of the bunch and deserving of its separate placement on this new release. (The others are on the recent CDA68339, #85 in the series, with the same performers.) The opening movement starts with a lovely theme that recurs with similarly attractive subordinate ideas. The whole thing is well crafted and has a gentle flavor of its own. (Interestingly, an alternate take on the first movement is included, which features a loud ending that I don't think works quite as well as the 'official' soft one.) The beautiful second movement faintly recalls Schumann, but is consistent in character with its surroundings. The finale is a funny animal whose initial idea is bland by comparison with its second theme. It is bouncy stuff, though, and the main theme from the first movement makes a cyclic appearance. Callaghan, Pitrėnas, and Company take an overall mellower approach than do Alun Francis and his cohorts on CPO (999 239-2). But I think this suits the music very well. 

Emil von Sauer's Second Piano Concerto lacks the polished craft that marks Reinecke's Third. Despite that it is full of interesting, and at times bewitching, ideas...even if the whole impresses less than its parts. I well remember the fanfare that greeted the eleventh disc in this Romantic Piano Concerto series in the mid-90s, which featured Stephen Hough playing the first of the two Sauer concerti. Admirers of that work should enjoy the Second. 

Reinecke's Opus 33 Konzertstück impressed me the least. While it is built well enough, the materials themselves just fail to register beyond listener recognition of their heavy debt to Schumann and Mendelssohn. Truthfully, there is a lot of this kind of music in the series, with some discs boasting little to nothing more. Luckily, the Konzertstück's companion pieces here offer more interest. 

Even though we're now 87 discs into The Romantic Piano Concerto collection, I find myself wanting more. I hope very much that Hyperion keeps this gravy train chugging along. It's a repertoire explorer's dream. 

Cheerfully Recommended

Recording Review #11: Almost Awesome

Schubert: String Quartet No. 8 in B-Flat, D. 112; String Quartet No. 15 in G, D. 887. Takács Quartet. Hyperion CDA68423. 

The Takács Quartet has gone through plenty of personnel since its founding in 1975. I believe the only remaining original member is cellist András Fejér. I saw the group perform on two occasions in the early 2000s, when they had different people at the second violin and viola positions. Both experiences were marvelous. The current squad sound mostly terrific together on this recording. I just wish that some of their interpretive decisions in the great G Major Quartet were different.

Schubert's string quartets are an uneven group. If they had ended with the Eleventh in E Major (D. 353), completed in 1816, he would now be considered a solid but unremarkable contributor to the genre. But with the single-movement Twelfth Quartet (called the Quartettsatz) appearing some four years later, we move steeply from respectable to outstanding on the inspiration scale. And we very much stay there for the following three in the cycle. 

The Eighth Quartet, then, is still in pre-world-beating territory. It does show progress from Schubert's earliest attempts and is an accomplished work. We even encounter some of the harmonic boldness that characterizes the late quartets. (The move to G Minor territory in the first movement's exposition, which is full of sudden passion, is a good example.) But by and large this piece is still stylistically within orbit of more imposing models by Haydn and Beethoven. I have no issue with the Takács Quartet's account here. Everything comes off extremely tastefully. 

But D. 887 is a transcendent work – one of Schubert's very best and, as far as I'm concerned, one of the greatest string quartets in the entire literature. Moreover, it is finicky and difficult to hold together, with many opportunities for various miscues and eccentricities. In other words, there is much to potentially separate even excellent performances from each other, never mind ones that are merely good or less. To my ears, the Takács Quartet delivers both splendid inner movements and inner parts of the first movement, adroitly dispatching the challenges of layered voicings, thematic dovetails, etc. However, we need to hear those early tremolos just a tad more. I understand the impulse to keep them super hushed, but they shouldn't be so at the expense of audibility. This is some of the most wondrously sad music ever written, and we need to hear everything as clearly as possible. A decidedly sharper disappointment arrived when I listened to the finale. I appreciate how difficult this music is to perform well, but the playing here sounds rushed and even clipped occasionally. Some of the separate string lines don't quite come off sharply, and harmonies/thematic arrivals that need to be savored (if only briefly) fly by in too much of a blur. My preference here is actually for a BIT slower approach (if you can believe it). Otherwise too much in this thickly-packed neck of the woods tends to get missed. I suggest the Melos Quartet (DG 463 151-2) or The New Zealand Quartet (Trust Records MMT 2062) as ideal alternatives. 

Preferential drawbacks aside, this is a fine disc overall. It's definitely worth a listen. Maybe your tastes will align more closely how the Takács Quartet plays parts of D. 887. But everything else I can cheer on without reservation. 

Recommended