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GINASTERA, A.: Cello Concertos Nos. 1 and 2 (Kosower, Bamberg Symphony, Zagrosek)

Composer(s):Ginastera, Alberto
Artist(s) Kosower, Mark, cello • Zagrosek, Lothar, Conductor • Bamberg Symphony Orchestra
Period(s) 20th Century
Genre Classical Music
Category Concertos
Catalogue 8.572372
Label Naxos
Quality   320kbps
Album Price
 
MP3
USD 6.99
 

 


Alberto Ginastera was one of the most admired and respected musical voices of the twentieth century, who successfully fused the strong traditional influences of his national heritage with experimental, contemporary, and classical techniques. The two Cello Concertos are among his most innovative, brilliant and technically formidable compositions. The First Concerto, the definitive version of which was premièred by Ginastera’s second wife Aurora Nátola in 1978, is notable for the provocative singing lines, Latin dance rhythms and virtuosity of its solo part, and the intense colours and abundant percussion of the orchestral accompaniment. The Second Concerto, composed as a 10th wedding anniversary tribute ‘To my dear Aurora’,

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Review By Terry Robbins ,The WholeNote,December 2011

incredibly modernistic sound and form. Soloist Mark Kosower does an outstanding job with extremely difficult and emotionally demanding works and has matching support from Lothar Zagrosek and the Bamburg Symphony Orchestra. This CD speaks loud and clear—and in a highly individual and effective voice… © The WholeNote Read complete review



Review By Raymond Tuttle ,Fanfare,September 2011

These are intriguing works, written not in Ginastera’s earlier and more popular idiom (Panambí, Estancia, etc.), but in a neo-expressionistic style that suggests what Bartók’s music might have sounded like had he lived longer and emigrated to Argentina. The Cello Concerto No.1, composed in 1968 but revised in 1977 for Nátola-Ginastera, is both dark and colorful, a paradox resolved by Ginastera’s acute ear for unusual and imaginative instrumental timbres. Its middle movement is marked Presto sfumato (Ginastera’s designations are often intriguing) and it is a scary tour de force for the soloist, who must saw away with precision but little respite, and fight with whooping, shrieking brass and insect-like percussion. Kosower has earned his

The Concerto No. 2 (1980) was composed as a 10th anniversary present for Nátola-Ginastera. It is in four movements, and each movement bears a poetic epigraph (reprinted in the booklet) by Auguste Martin, Luis Cernuda, Guillaume Appollinaire, and Pablo Neruda, respectively. In this work, Ginastera makes more prominent use of folk idioms than in the previous concerto, but the language remains atonal, though hardly mathematical. The first movement alludes to, in the composer’s words, “a famous cello theme by a great composer,” although I confess I was not able to identify it (the opening of the third movement of Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2), because Ginastera immerses it so completely in his own idiom. Both concertos demand the most attentive listening; this is by no means restful music to enjoy before bedtime. It is, however, music that eventually finds its way into the heart by way of the head. Despite the modernism of his language, Ginastera was a communicator.

As I’ve already suggested, although I can’t compare Kosower’s performances to those of Nátola-Ginastera, I have no reason to believe that he has made anything less than an iron-clad case for these concertos. Even in the composer’s most demanding passages, there’s no sense that the cellist is being pushed beyond his limits, and his sound remains rich and full throughout the cello’s range. Zagrosek and the Bambergers, proven experts in the past century’s most demanding scores, give these concertos their all, with color, imagination, and precision.

more....


Review By Raymond Tuttle ,Fanfare,September 2011

These are intriguing works, written not in Ginastera’s earlier and more popular idiom (Panambí, Estancia, etc.), but in a neo-expressionistic style that suggests what Bartók’s music might have sounded like had he lived longer and emigrated to Argentina. The Cello Concerto No.1, composed in 1968 but revised in 1977 for Nátola-Ginastera, is both dark and colorful, a paradox resolved by Ginastera’s acute ear for unusual and imaginative instrumental timbres. Its middle movement is marked Presto sfumato (Ginastera’s designations are often intriguing) and it is a scary tour de force for the soloist, who must saw away with precision but little respite, and fight with whooping, shrieking brass and insect-like percussion. Kosower has earned his

The Concerto No. 2 (1980) was composed as a 10th anniversary present for Nátola-Ginastera. It is in four movements, and each movement bears a poetic epigraph (reprinted in the booklet) by Auguste Martin, Luis Cernuda, Guillaume Appollinaire, and Pablo Neruda, respectively. In this work, Ginastera makes more prominent use of folk idioms than in the previous concerto, but the language remains atonal, though hardly mathematical. The first movement alludes to, in the composer’s words, “a famous cello theme by a great composer,” although I confess I was not able to identify it (the opening of the third movement of Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2), because Ginastera immerses it so completely in his own idiom. Both concertos demand the most attentive listening; this is by no means restful music to enjoy before bedtime. It is, however, music that eventually finds its way into the heart by way of the head. Despite the modernism of his language, Ginastera was a communicator.

As I’ve already suggested, although I can’t compare Kosower’s performances to those of Nátola-Ginastera, I have no reason to believe that he has made anything less than an iron-clad case for these concertos. Even in the composer’s most demanding passages, there’s no sense that the cellist is being pushed beyond his limits, and his sound remains rich and full throughout the cello’s range. Zagrosek and the Bambergers, proven experts in the past century’s most demanding scores, give these concertos their all, with color, imagination, and precision.

more....

Review By Raymond Tuttle ,Fanfare,September 2011

These are intriguing works, written not in Ginastera’s earlier and more popular idiom (Panambí, Estancia, etc.), but in a neo-expressionistic style that suggests what Bartók’s music might have sounded like had he lived longer and emigrated to Argentina. The Cello Concerto No.1, composed in 1968 but revised in 1977 for Nátola-Ginastera, is both dark and colorful, a paradox resolved by Ginastera’s acute ear for unusual and imaginative instrumental timbres. Its middle movement is marked Presto sfumato (Ginastera’s designations are often intriguing) and it is a scary tour de force for the soloist, who must saw away with precision but little respite, and fight with whooping, shrieking brass and insect-like percussion. Kosower has earned his

The Concerto No. 2 (1980) was composed as a 10th anniversary present for Nátola-Ginastera. It is in four movements, and each movement bears a poetic epigraph (reprinted in the booklet) by Auguste Martin, Luis Cernuda, Guillaume Appollinaire, and Pablo Neruda, respectively. In this work, Ginastera makes more prominent use of folk idioms than in the previous concerto, but the language remains atonal, though hardly mathematical. The first movement alludes to, in the composer’s words, “a famous cello theme by a great composer,” although I confess I was not able to identify it (the opening of the third movement of Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2), because Ginastera immerses it so completely in his own idiom. Both concertos demand the most attentive listening; this is by no means restful music to enjoy before bedtime. It is, however, music that eventually finds its way into the heart by way of the head. Despite the modernism of his language, Ginastera was a communicator.

As I’ve already suggested, although I can’t compare Kosower’s performances to those of Nátola-Ginastera, I have no reason to believe that he has made anything less than an iron-clad case for these concertos. Even in the composer’s most demanding passages, there’s no sense that the cellist is being pushed beyond his limits, and his sound remains rich and full throughout the cello’s range. Zagrosek and the Bambergers, proven experts in the past century’s most demanding scores, give these concertos their all, with color, imagination, and precision.

more....

Review By Raymond Tuttle ,Fanfare,September 2011

These are intriguing works, written not in Ginastera’s earlier and more popular idiom (Panambí, Estancia, etc.), but in a neo-expressionistic style that suggests what Bartók’s music might have sounded like had he lived longer and emigrated to Argentina. The Cello Concerto No.1, composed in 1968 but revised in 1977 for Nátola-Ginastera, is both dark and colorful, a paradox resolved by Ginastera’s acute ear for unusual and imaginative instrumental timbres. Its middle movement is marked Presto sfumato (Ginastera’s designations are often intriguing) and it is a scary tour de force for the soloist, who must saw away with precision but little respite, and fight with whooping, shrieking brass and insect-like percussion. Kosower has earned his

The Concerto No. 2 (1980) was composed as a 10th anniversary present for Nátola-Ginastera. It is in four movements, and each movement bears a poetic epigraph (reprinted in the booklet) by Auguste Martin, Luis Cernuda, Guillaume Appollinaire, and Pablo Neruda, respectively. In this work, Ginastera makes more prominent use of folk idioms than in the previous concerto, but the language remains atonal, though hardly mathematical. The first movement alludes to, in the composer’s words, “a famous cello theme by a great composer,” although I confess I was not able to identify it (the opening of the third movement of Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2), because Ginastera immerses it so completely in his own idiom. Both concertos demand the most attentive listening; this is by no means restful music to enjoy before bedtime. It is, however, music that eventually finds its way into the heart by way of the head. Despite the modernism of his language, Ginastera was a communicator.

As I’ve already suggested, although I can’t compare Kosower’s performances to those of Nátola-Ginastera, I have no reason to believe that he has made anything less than an iron-clad case for these concertos. Even in the composer’s most demanding passages, there’s no sense that the cellist is being pushed beyond his limits, and his sound remains rich and full throughout the cello’s range. Zagrosek and the Bambergers, proven experts in the past century’s most demanding scores, give these concertos their all, with color, imagination, and precision.

more....

Review By Raymond Tuttle ,Fanfare,September 2011

These are intriguing works, written not in Ginastera’s earlier and more popular idiom (Panambí, Estancia, etc.), but in a neo-expressionistic style that suggests what Bartók’s music might have sounded like had he lived longer and emigrated to Argentina. The Cello Concerto No.1, composed in 1968 but revised in 1977 for Nátola-Ginastera, is both dark and colorful, a paradox resolved by Ginastera’s acute ear for unusual and imaginative instrumental timbres. Its middle movement is marked Presto sfumato (Ginastera’s designations are often intriguing) and it is a scary tour de force for the soloist, who must saw away with precision but little respite, and fight with whooping, shrieking brass and insect-like percussion. Kosower has earned his

The Concerto No. 2 (1980) was composed as a 10th anniversary present for Nátola-Ginastera. It is in four movements, and each movement bears a poetic epigraph (reprinted in the booklet) by Auguste Martin, Luis Cernuda, Guillaume Appollinaire, and Pablo Neruda, respectively. In this work, Ginastera makes more prominent use of folk idioms than in the previous concerto, but the language remains atonal, though hardly mathematical. The first movement alludes to, in the composer’s words, “a famous cello theme by a great composer,” although I confess I was not able to identify it (the opening of the third movement of Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2), because Ginastera immerses it so completely in his own idiom. Both concertos demand the most attentive listening; this is by no means restful music to enjoy before bedtime. It is, however, music that eventually finds its way into the heart by way of the head. Despite the modernism of his language, Ginastera was a communicator.

As I’ve already suggested, although I can’t compare Kosower’s performances to those of Nátola-Ginastera, I have no reason to believe that he has made anything less than an iron-clad case for these concertos. Even in the composer’s most demanding passages, there’s no sense that the cellist is being pushed beyond his limits, and his sound remains rich and full throughout the cello’s range. Zagrosek and the Bambergers, proven experts in the past century’s most demanding scores, give these concertos their all, with color, imagination, and precision.

more....

Review By Raymond Tuttle ,Fanfare,September 2011

These are intriguing works, written not in Ginastera’s earlier and more popular idiom (Panambí, Estancia, etc.), but in a neo-expressionistic style that suggests what Bartók’s music might have sounded like had he lived longer and emigrated to Argentina. The Cello Concerto No.1, composed in 1968 but revised in 1977 for Nátola-Ginastera, is both dark and colorful, a paradox resolved by Ginastera’s acute ear for unusual and imaginative instrumental timbres. Its middle movement is marked Presto sfumato (Ginastera’s designations are often intriguing) and it is a scary tour de force for the soloist, who must saw away with precision but little respite, and fight with whooping, shrieking brass and insect-like percussion. Kosower has earned his

The Concerto No. 2 (1980) was composed as a 10th anniversary present for Nátola-Ginastera. It is in four movements, and each movement bears a poetic epigraph (reprinted in the booklet) by Auguste Martin, Luis Cernuda, Guillaume Appollinaire, and Pablo Neruda, respectively. In this work, Ginastera makes more prominent use of folk idioms than in the previous concerto, but the language remains atonal, though hardly mathematical. The first movement alludes to, in the composer’s words, “a famous cello theme by a great composer,” although I confess I was not able to identify it (the opening of the third movement of Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2), because Ginastera immerses it so completely in his own idiom. Both concertos demand the most attentive listening; this is by no means restful music to enjoy before bedtime. It is, however, music that eventually finds its way into the heart by way of the head. Despite the modernism of his language, Ginastera was a communicator.

As I’ve already suggested, although I can’t compare Kosower’s performances to those of Nátola-Ginastera, I have no reason to believe that he has made anything less than an iron-clad case for these concertos. Even in the composer’s most demanding passages, there’s no sense that the cellist is being pushed beyond his limits, and his sound remains rich and full throughout the cello’s range. Zagrosek and the Bambergers, proven experts in the past century’s most demanding scores, give these concertos their all, with color, imagination, and precision.

more....

Review By Raymond Tuttle ,Fanfare,September 2011

These are intriguing works, written not in Ginastera’s earlier and more popular idiom (Panambí, Estancia, etc.), but in a neo-expressionistic style that suggests what Bartók’s music might have sounded like had he lived longer and emigrated to Argentina. The Cello Concerto No.1, composed in 1968 but revised in 1977 for Nátola-Ginastera, is both dark and colorful, a paradox resolved by Ginastera’s acute ear for unusual and imaginative instrumental timbres. Its middle movement is marked Presto sfumato (Ginastera’s designations are often intriguing) and it is a scary tour de force for the soloist, who must saw away with precision but little respite, and fight with whooping, shrieking brass and insect-like percussion. Kosower has earned his

The Concerto No. 2 (1980) was composed as a 10th anniversary present for Nátola-Ginastera. It is in four movements, and each movement bears a poetic epigraph (reprinted in the booklet) by Auguste Martin, Luis Cernuda, Guillaume Appollinaire, and Pablo Neruda, respectively. In this work, Ginastera makes more prominent use of folk idioms than in the previous concerto, but the language remains atonal, though hardly mathematical. The first movement alludes to, in the composer’s words, “a famous cello theme by a great composer,” although I confess I was not able to identify it (the opening of the third movement of Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2), because Ginastera immerses it so completely in his own idiom. Both concertos demand the most attentive listening; this is by no means restful music to enjoy before bedtime. It is, however, music that eventually finds its way into the heart by way of the head. Despite the modernism of his language, Ginastera was a communicator.

As I’ve already suggested, although I can’t compare Kosower’s performances to those of Nátola-Ginastera, I have no reason to believe that he has made anything less than an iron-clad case for these concertos. Even in the composer’s most demanding passages, there’s no sense that the cellist is being pushed beyond his limits, and his sound remains rich and full throughout the cello’s range. Zagrosek and the Bambergers, proven experts in the past century’s most demanding scores, give these concertos their all, with color, imagination, and precision.

more....

Review By Raymond Tuttle ,Fanfare,September 2011

These are intriguing works, written not in Ginastera’s earlier and more popular idiom (Panambí, Estancia, etc.), but in a neo-expressionistic style that suggests what Bartók’s music might have sounded like had he lived longer and emigrated to Argentina. The Cello Concerto No.1, composed in 1968 but revised in 1977 for Nátola-Ginastera, is both dark and colorful, a paradox resolved by Ginastera’s acute ear for unusual and imaginative instrumental timbres. Its middle movement is marked Presto sfumato (Ginastera’s designations are often intriguing) and it is a scary tour de force for the soloist, who must saw away with precision but little respite, and fight with whooping, shrieking brass and insect-like percussion. Kosower has earned his

The Concerto No. 2 (1980) was composed as a 10th anniversary present for Nátola-Ginastera. It is in four movements, and each movement bears a poetic epigraph (reprinted in the booklet) by Auguste Martin, Luis Cernuda, Guillaume Appollinaire, and Pablo Neruda, respectively. In this work, Ginastera makes more prominent use of folk idioms than in the previous concerto, but the language remains atonal, though hardly mathematical. The first movement alludes to, in the composer’s words, “a famous cello theme by a great composer,” although I confess I was not able to identify it (the opening of the third movement of Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2), because Ginastera immerses it so completely in his own idiom. Both concertos demand the most attentive listening; this is by no means restful music to enjoy before bedtime. It is, however, music that eventually finds its way into the heart by way of the head. Despite the modernism of his language, Ginastera was a communicator.

As I’ve already suggested, although I can’t compare Kosower’s performances to those of Nátola-Ginastera, I have no reason to believe that he has made anything less than an iron-clad case for these concertos. Even in the composer’s most demanding passages, there’s no sense that the cellist is being pushed beyond his limits, and his sound remains rich and full throughout the cello’s range. Zagrosek and the Bambergers, proven experts in the past century’s most demanding scores, give these concertos their all, with color, imagination, and precision.

more....

Review By Raymond Tuttle ,Fanfare,September 2011

These are intriguing works, written not in Ginastera’s earlier and more popular idiom (Panambí, Estancia, etc.), but in a neo-expressionistic style that suggests what Bartók’s music might have sounded like had he lived longer and emigrated to Argentina. The Cello Concerto No.1, composed in 1968 but revised in 1977 for Nátola-Ginastera, is both dark and colorful, a paradox resolved by Ginastera’s acute ear for unusual and imaginative instrumental timbres. Its middle movement is marked Presto sfumato (Ginastera’s designations are often intriguing) and it is a scary tour de force for the soloist, who must saw away with precision but little respite, and fight with whooping, shrieking brass and insect-like percussion. Kosower has earned his

The Concerto No. 2 (1980) was composed as a 10th anniversary present for Nátola-Ginastera. It is in four movements, and each movement bears a poetic epigraph (reprinted in the booklet) by Auguste Martin, Luis Cernuda, Guillaume Appollinaire, and Pablo Neruda, respectively. In this work, Ginastera makes more prominent use of folk idioms than in the previous concerto, but the language remains atonal, though hardly mathematical. The first movement alludes to, in the composer’s words, “a famous cello theme by a great composer,” although I confess I was not able to identify it (the opening of the third movement of Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2), because Ginastera immerses it so completely in his own idiom. Both concertos demand the most attentive listening; this is by no means restful music to enjoy before bedtime. It is, however, music that eventually finds its way into the heart by way of the head. Despite the modernism of his language, Ginastera was a communicator.

As I’ve already suggested, although I can’t compare Kosower’s performances to those of Nátola-Ginastera, I have no reason to believe that he has made anything less than an iron-clad case for these concertos. Even in the composer’s most demanding passages, there’s no sense that the cellist is being pushed beyond his limits, and his sound remains rich and full throughout the cello’s range. Zagrosek and the Bambergers, proven experts in the past century’s most demanding scores, give these concertos their all, with color, imagination, and precision.

more....

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