C. P. E. Bach Keyboard Concerto in d, Wq 23; Rondo in
D, WD 59/5.2
Christian Zacharias, piano and conductor
Orchestre national d’Auvergne Live (29:00)
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New classical music releases reviewed in detail by Gavin Dixon
Monday, 27 April 2020
CPE Bach Keyboard Concerto in d Christian Zacharias Orchestre national d’Auvergne
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This release is the sixth in just a year from the enterprising Orchestre
national d’Auvergne Live label. It is a small-scale affair, taking individual
works, or sometimes whole concerts, from the orchestra’s live schedule and
making them available via streaming platforms. As the orchestra sees it, streaming
is the future, and while record collectors might disagree, the logistical
benefits are clear—minimal overheads but potentially global exposure for the
regional orchestra.
The orchestra itself has a full-time string section, to which a part-time
wind section is occasionally added, as on the Beethoven Seventh which the label
was launched. But the majority of the orchestra’s concerts are of string orchestra
repertoire. The group regularly engages high-profile conductors and soloists.
That’s a boon for marketing, but it makes artistic sense too, given the
profound effect a distinctive soloist can have on the sound and style of a
medium-sized ensemble. On a previous release, Thomas Zehetmair led a program of
Strauss and Bruckner arrangements, bringing his sinuous but focused Romantic
phrasing to both, then clearing the air with a lively Haydn violin concerto.
This latest release features Christian Zacharias, leading a C. P. E.
Bach concerto from the piano. Zacharias is a respected authority on the keyboard
music of the Classical era, but his many recordings over the decades have mostly
focused on the biggest names: Mozart, Schubert, Beethoven. The orchestra’s
publicity for this release emphasizes that, not only was this Zacharias’s first
appearance with the group, but it is also his first recording of the concerto.
Both the composer and the work sit at the turning point between the Baroque
and Classical eras. The concerto, from 1748, is scored for solo keyboard, strings
(seemingly one to a part), and figured-bass continuo. Most of the available recordings
(three of the four others that appear on a brief search) present the solo part
on harpsichord, with only Michael Rische playing the concerto on piano, on a
recent Hänssler release (19043) with the Leipzig Chamber Orchestra. Zacharias
makes the most of the opportunities the piano affords, clearly distinguishing
melody and accompaniment, and subtly blending the sound in some of the passagework.
But otherwise, the choice of piano over harpsichord is less significant than it
might seem. The performance is no slower than the period instrument alternatives,
and the string section, while expanded from the score’s implied one-to-a-part,
is nimble and light, with excellent coordination. A harpsichord continuo is
also included, and is well captured by the engineering, but its delicate
ornaments at cadences never sound anachronistic against the piano.
The second movement is marked poco andante, but is taking
daringly slow. The movement unfolds as a single utterance, with the piano playing
almost continuously throughout, its line gradually become more elaborate, but
always retaining its lyrical melodic flow. Towards the end the orchestra begins
to struggle with the sheer concentration required, and the ensemble begins to
loosen. Fortunately, Zacharias carries the day, and delivers us safely into the
finale, marked allegro assai, but not rushed here, so much as gently
propelled through the precise string articulation.
The ending is abrupt. Bach doesn’t include any final flourishes, and a separate
conductor might have had more scope to fashion a conclusive ending. All of the
applause is included, which seems an indulgence, but it leads into a gratifying
encore, a solo Rondo, here given a light and playful reading by Zacharias. He
and the orchestra are clearly attuned to C. P. E.
Where other
performers, especially on the harpsichord, invite us to question whether Bach
looks to the past or to the future, Zacharias and the Auvergne orchestra
instead find an ideal style for the music, combining Baroque and Classical
elements as needed, leaning more towards the latter, but resolving any tensions
between them through the sheer exuberance of their sound.
This review
appears in Fanfare magazine issue 43:6
Sunday, 26 April 2020
Taneyev Romances and Poems
Taneyev Romances and Poems
Sergei Taneyev
10 Romances, op. 17
10 Poems from Ellis’s Immortelles, op. 26
4 Poems, op. 32
5 Poems, op. 33
7 Poems, op. 34
Marciá Porter (sop); Janet Hopkins (mez); Hugo Vera (ten);
Christian Elser (bar); Jacob Will (bbar); Lynn Kompass (pn)
CENTAUR 3749/50 (2 CDs: 106:28)
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Buy from: Sergei Taneyev’s output was modest, his published works running to just 36 opuses, but it is notoriously difficult to pin down. Early works can seem late, through high number designations, such as the early string quartets, published after his death as Nos. 7–9. And many other works not published in his lifetime never received opus numbers at all. This album presents “The complete song opuses for voice and piano,” a carefully worded claim, omitting at least 20 songs that were never collected into opus sets. The chronology of the published songs broadly follows the opus numbering, but the relatively high number of the op. 17 10 Romances is misleading. It was published in 1905, the set made up mostly of earlier songs, some of which he revised for pubication, plus two new ones. This was effectively the start of Taneyev’s retirement, the year he stood down from his position at the Moscow Conservatory. The later sets, all designated “Poems” were written in 1908 (op. 26) and 1911–12 (opp. 32—34). Taneyev’s choices of texts are catholic, if sometimes obscure. The op. 17 songs begin with texts by Shelley, translated into Russian by Balmont, but continue with Russian poets: Fet, A. K. Tolstoy, Nekrasov. The op. 26 set are all of Russian translations of foreign poets—French, German, English, Spanish, Italian—while the last three opuses all set the poetry of Yakov Polonsky, a popular poet of the 19th century, working in Pushkin’s milieu.
The intricate counterpoint that characterizes Taneyev’s orchestral,
choral, and chamber music is entirely absent here. Instead, lyrical vocal lines
are accompanied by conventional, if sometimes florid, piano accompaniments.
That simplicity is usually a virtue, allowing the melody and the words to come
through without competition. But the sheer simplicity of the accompaniments can
be surprising—the fourth song of the op. 10 set, for example, “The blessed star
has gone”—plays out over a pastiche of the “Moonlight” Sonata. In the later
songs, Taneyev occasionally indulges in evocative scene setting. Op. 26/4 is
titled “Stalactites,” and the piano accompaniment evokes the sound of water
dripping in a forgotten cave. And the last song of the op. 32 set, “The Winter
Road,” is propulsive and menacing, in the spirit of Schubert.
These songs are rarely recorded as complete sets, so the present album
is of considerable documentary value. Unfortunately, the performances and
production standards are no more than serviceable. The liner note (by pianist
Lynn Kompass) points out that the designation “Romances” referred to a sentimental
song style in the 19th century. Accordingly, all of the five singers present
the vocal lines in a operatic, coloratura style. It is hard to question the commitment
and passion of the results, but none of the voices match the musical demands. It
shouldn’t be necessary to have Russians singing this music, though this is the
only recording I’ve found not to be sung exclusively by a Russian singer, but
the Russian qualities of focused tone and cleanly articulated consonants are noticeably
absent. The best pronunciation comes from mezzo Janet Hopkins, while the most
musically satisfying performances are from soprano Marciá Porter and tenor Hugo
Vera. Pianist Lynn Kompass makes a good job of setting the mood and atmosphere for
each song, though she is hampered by the recessed sound of the piano, which,
while balanced well against the singers, sounds distant in the sound picture. The
singers themselves are reasonably well captured, though with more resonance than
this often-intimate music requires.
Documentation is skimpy. A full track listing tells us who is singing
when—the singers interchange almost continuously, though their voices are
sufficiently similar to allow continuity. No texts are printed, but a link and
QR code take you to a pdf online with the English translations, though not the
sung Russian texts.
No claim is made for any of these to be first recordings, but the scarcity
of currently available competition suggests that any previous complete sets
were on long out of print Melodiya LPs. The only other complete opus set that
appears to be available is an MDG release featuring mezzo Marina Prudenskaya
and pianist Olga Gollej in the op. 34 Poems (3071917). Elsewhere, individual numbers
turn up on celebrity recitals, the most high profile being Dmitri Hvorostovsky’s
2013 release in this moonlit night (Ondine 12162), with pianist Ivari
Ilja. Hvorostovsky includes op. 17/5, 9, 10; op. 26/6, 9; and op. 32/4. It is
hardly fair to compare any of the singers here to him, but it is fair to say that
Hvorostovsky raises this music to a completely different level.
This review appears in Fanfare magazine issue 43:6. Friday, 24 April 2020From Shadow To Light - Sonora Winds
FROM SHADOW TO LIGHT Sonora Winds MSR 1702 (50:55)
LUTOSŁAWSKI
Trio for Oboe, Clarinet and Bassoon
SZAŁOWSKI Trio for Oboe, Clarinet and Bassoon
ŻUŁAWSKI Aria Con Variazioni for Flute, Clarinet and
Bassoon
WALENTYNOWICZ Trio For Reeds (Oboe, Clarinet and
Bassoon)
BAIRD Divertimento for Flute, Clarinet, Oboe and
Bassoon
GARŚCIA Tema Con Variazioni for Flute, Clarinet and
Bassoon
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This album presents five wind trios (flute or oboe, plus clarinet and
bassoon) and one wind quartet from Poland in the middle decades of the 20th
century. The program is arranged chronologically (only the Lutosławski is brought
forward for an imposing opener) and spans the years 1937 (Szałowski) to 1967 (Garścia).
These were turbulent times for Poland, but the stylistic unity, and generally high
quality, of these works suggests a continuity in the nation’s musical culture.
Today, we remember the Polish late Romantics, up to Moszkowski and Paderewski,
and then also the 60s radicals of the Warsaw Autumn generation, but the
composers here all fit into the considerable gap in between.
Where the Polish late-Romantics looked to Russia for inspiration, this
music is more indebted to France—perhaps partly on account of the dominance of
French composers in chamber music for winds. Everything here could be classed
as Neoclassical, for its tonal orientation and the crisp, highly contrapuntal
textures of most of the works. But there is no looking back to the past here,
and no knowing self-reference: The French Neoclassical models are applied in
the service of cleanly articulated post-Romantic textures. And, although the
chronological ordering does give a slight sense of gradually expanding horizons—presumably
the intention of the album title, From Shadow to Light—the personalities
of the individual composers have a much greater bearing on the modernity, or otherwise,
of the results.
That is particularly true of the Trio by Lutosławski that opens the
program. Lutosławski spent much of the war performing as part of the piano duet
with Andrej Panufnik in Warsaw. This Trio dates from 1945, soon after he had
fled the capital. The textures are lively and vibrant, but the music maintains
a down-to-earth quality through some sour, though never outright dissonant,
harmonies. In retrospect, we can hear the music as transitional, towards Lutosławski’s
more frenetic, aleatoric approach. This music is just as colorful, and none the
worse for being a little more orderly.
Antoni Szałowski (1907–1937) was a pupil of Nadia Boulanger, a significant
link with the French Neoclassical school that influences much of this program.
And his Trio (1937) is the closest in style to that Boulanger/Stravinsky axis, though
again, without any knowing references to the past, but rather lively,
contrapuntal wind textures modelled along Classical lines. Wawrzyniec Żuławski (1916–1957)
and Janina Garścia (1920–2004)
both provide variations sets, and while both are inventive, neither moves far
stylistically from its opening theme. The Garścia Thema con Variazioni is the latest work on the disc,
from 1967, but it is a modest affair, written for educational purposes, the
liner tells us. That is also true of the 1952 Trio by Władysław
Walentynowicz (1902–1999), a Gdańsk-based composer, pianist, and educator. Walentynowicz’s
first movement “All in Harmony” is particularly satisfying, with sophisticated
but light contrapuntal textures, all created through simple scale patterns in each
of the instruments.
The most interesting work on the program is the 1967 Divertimento by Tadeusz
Baird (1928–1981). Like Lutosławski, Baird would go on to become one of the
leading lights of the “Sonorism” Modernist movement in Poland, but this piece
is very much a transition towards that. The (uncredited) liner note tells us
that the work employs serial techniques, but on first acquaintance, it seems as
efficiently Neoclassical as the rest of the program. But the serial rigor soon
becomes apparent, with motifs inverted and melodic lines strung out to full
note rows. But Baird always retains a sense of reserve, his exploratory techniques
never compromising the refinement of his textures.
The recording was made in Minneapolis in 2018, and seems to be a product
of that city’s close links with Polish culture. The Twin Cities Polish Festival
and the Polish American Cultural Institute of Minnesota are both credited as sponsors.
Sonora Winds is a collective of young freelance orchestral musicians from the
area, and two of their four names are Polish (bassoonist Marta Troicki is also
credited as a producer). They have uncovered some interesting music here, most
of which seems to be appearing for the first time (though there are several other
recordings of the Lutosławski). Performances are spirited and vibrant, with
good balance between the players, but also with the independence of line that
woodwind chamber music thrives on. The recording was made in a church, the Lutheran
Church of Christ the Redeemer, Minneapolis, an overly reverberant acoustic, which,
combined with distant miking, makes the ensemble sound recessed. That is a
shame, but it doesn’t significantly affect the clarity of the textures. A
fascinating release, largely of documentary value, but well worth hearing for
the Lutosławski and the Baird.
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