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 #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

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

Recording Review #6: Delectable Dances

Schubert: Ländler (Selections). Pierre-Laurent Aimard, pianist. Pentatone PTC 5187034. 

"Oh, you artists, see how Albrecht Dürer painted a blade of grass, how Schubert composed a little song! Learn that the smallest shall be the greatest; that two colors, three notes, two right-angles and a circle sufficed for the man who found delight as a humble servant of art!"---Carl Nielsen, "The Fullness of Time," Living Music (1953, trans. Reginald Spink Hutchinson)

Confession time: Franz Schubert is my overall favorite composer. The reason partially involves something I've slowly realized over the years. Ralph Vaughan Williams was right: all truly great music has a popular element. (See his tribute to Sibelius, "Sibelius at 90: Greatness and Popularity.") This notion will make some, the composer-theorist/modernist types prominent among them, wrinkle their noses. But for me it's inescapable. Intellectual and complex stuff is *fine*, but there is simply something next-level about music that has both depth (variously defined) AND wide appeal (or at least the potential for wide appeal). I'm squarely against Arnold Schoenberg's claim that if it is art, it is not for all. So what gives music its "popular" element? This can be elusive, but I believe it's much about being rooted in the elemental impulses of song and dance. And if ever there were a composer whose music you could say this for, it's Schubert. From the smallest miniature to the largest chamber work or symphony, Schubert always seemed to have a tune in his heart. When you add to his appealing melodies an equally rich harmonic imagination, the combination is devastating. I don't think there's a note the man wrote that I don't like. 

That very much includes his many collections of small dances for piano. Actually, these are some of the first Schubert pieces I ever encountered. When I was young (pre-internet) and beginning to learn about classical music, I walked into the local music shop and bought the first printed collection of piano music by him that I saw. It happened to be the old Schirmer volume of dances, which I have treasured and revisited ever since. Because they're wonderful pieces, full of the hallmarks of his other works: the winning melodies, the adventurous harmonies, the surprising turns of phrase, the alternating joy and sorrow, and the elegance sprinkled over all. For beginners, they're quite as good an introduction to the composer as anything else he wrote, and they require much less time investment.

The selection of dances here is well chosen. Some of my favorites are D. 365/1 (proto-Schumann?), D. 171/10 (proto-Chopin?), D. 735/8 (so much happening within that tiny span!), and D. 969/10 - one of Schubert's trademark bittersweet pieces. Pierre-Laurent Aimard dispatches them all with the requisite sensitivity and wide range of emotions. Moreover, the helping is suitably robust. By my count this release offers 113 dances from across 12 different collections, spanning Schubert's entire career. Which amounts to approximately 67 minutes of music.  

After wading through so much symphonic stuff lately, it feels good to drink from the refreshing spring of Schubert's smallest miniatures. I prescribe the same activity for every listener from time to time. 

Highly Recommended 

Recording Review #4: Sedate Smetana

Smetana: Má Vlast. Semyon Bychkov, conductor; Czech Philharmonic. Pentatone PTC 5187203. 

This is a perfectly respectable recording, thank you very much. The direction is competent. The playing is nice and polished. Nothing in it offends. There's just one problem: we're mostly missing the nationalist fervor that gives Má Vlast so much of its flavor. I know, I know...in this day and age we're PAST all of that. Now we're just one, big, happy world community...or at least European community...or at least that's the idea. Which means 'unpleasant' stuff like nationalism (a word virtually interchangeable with jingoism these days) should be on the outs. None of that cultural pride, if you please! We're all "Posties" now...post-nationalist, post-modernist, post-historical, post-religious, post-military, post-borders, post-truth, post-this, post-that. Blech. 

Okay, I'm off-track. Just a bit, though. Because when one considers this release against a huge recording catalogue, and particularly the much-loved Vltava/The Moldau, Bychkov and the CPO come across as just a bit post-passionate. Which is ironic, because so many great Má Vlast outings have featured this very orchestra: Talich 39 and 54, Ančerl 63 (my personal FAVORITE), Neumann 75, and Kubelik 90 among others. Nor do the Czechs necessarily have a monopoly on playing this music with suitable heart, as interpretations by Berglund, Järvi, and Levine (for example) demonstrate. 

The tone is set immediately after the fine opening harp passage in Vyšehrad. When we come to the next material, and especially the march, the gestures are too staid. We need more gusto, more color, and more life, especially in the fanfares. Similarly, Vltava opens nicely, with fine woodwind playing...these are good musicians! But when the main theme enters in the strings, it is too timid and too limp, missing the zeal you hear in so many classic Czech performances. The wedding dance portion is good but not special, and it has an oddly muted climax. The moonlit segment is just too SLOW; the strings shimmer nicely, but the melody needs to move to be properly heard. Things improve at the climactic finish, when the castle theme grandly re-emerges. There is more energy at this point, but it comes across somehow as clock-gearish. Šárka simply requires more fire...not much more to be said about it. Perhaps the performance's best number is the Bohemian Woods and Fields movement. Yes, almost everything from the horns theme onward needs oomph, but the pastoral material early on comes across extremely well. If all the work were like this, we'd have a top-notch recording. Tábor and Blanik are traditionally the hardest parts of Má Vlast to bring off, but by the same token they're the hardest parts to really mess up. A certain amount of aggressiveness is written into them by virtue of their punchy motives and martial themes. Bychkov navigates these areas well, and while one could wish for more Ančerl-style sweep and virility, they do impress compared to earlier. 

Enjoying nationalist music as such shouldn't be attached to shame. So far as I know, I have not a drop of Czech blood in me. I've sadly never been east of Western Europe, let alone the Czech Republic. I can't speak a bit of their beautiful language. But when I listen to music like Má Vlast I want to imagine being there, and have the referenced scenes, stories, and other folk elements come vividly to my imagination. What I don't want is for the musicians (and principally the conductor) to perform like Good Cosmopolitans™... not even a little...not even when their musicianship is otherwise so good. 

Recommended to Collectors; Mildly Recommended to Everyone Else