John Corigliano's Third Symphony, for large wind orchestra, represents a major contribution to the band repertoire, and its fascinating exploitation of timbre and texture should win it listeners beyond that particular niche. The concept, "Circus Maximus", promises to be fun: Corigliano compares the decadent ancient Roman entertainment district to our modern glut of cable television channels and reality TV. Movements such as "channel surfing" offer a deft Ivesian collage of sounds, while the two central nocturnes are lovely, in very different ways. My only wish is that Corigliano didn't take himself quite so seriously: to equate the slaughter and mayhem of Roman entertainment to, say, the Real Housewives of New Jersey surely is pushing the comparison too far. Moreover, it runs the risk of sounding snobbish (not the music, the notes). Remember, when Ives did this sort of thing it was the popular tunes and other found objects that he was celebrating, and the classical tradition that he was thumbing his nose at (with good reason).

Anyway, that's not really important: what matters is that this is good music whatever its inspiration, and the coupling, the Gazebo Dances, is breezy and fresh as the title suggests. Outstandingly exciting performances and terrific recorded sound round out this very attractive release of good contemporary American music. And if Corigliano is being a bit provocative, it's never at the expense of your basic enjoyment. First rate.

Recorded at the Colosseum, Town Hall, Watford, England 10–11 April 2008, these two virtuoso display pieces for violin and orchestra embrace the idiosyncratic Armenian voice of Aram Khachaturian (1903–1978). The Concerto-Rhapsody in B-flat Minor dates from the period in the 1960s that produced a trio of such works—for cello, piano, and violin—the last dedicated to Leonid Kogan, who premiered the work 7 October 1962. The violin part features any number of scale-figures, often modal in nature, over a harp and plucked-string and woodwind accompaniment. The musical episodes more than not exploit the folk-balletic impulse, and more than one passing reference implies Gaynah or Spartacus. The music seems to divide itself into sections that alternate and repeat, the more melodic of the sequences floating in a colorful, gypsy style that rarely offends the ear. Rather, Khachaturian takes Wagner’s concept of seamless melody one step further, having forged a tapestry of nocturnal sounds that, after some thirteen minutes, breaks off in a scherzo with percussion and brass, enlarged shades of Stravinsky’s violin writing for L’Histoire du Soldat or the second movement from Prokofiev’s D Major Concerto. The last pages might pay tribute to the Bartok Second Concerto.

The more familiar Violin Concerto in D Minor (1 940), cast for legendary David Oistrakh, has solo Koeckert (b. 1979) frolicking in vivacious, oriental, languorous colors in the outer movements, singing a love song in the Andante sostenuto. Huge pedal points and vigorous rhythms, along with etched timbres from horns, woodwinds, strings, and tympani make the Concerto a naturally fascinating study in royal colors. Serebrier’s harpist exerts much effort to provide a damask background for the violin’s flights of fancy, a step away from Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances. In the quieter passages, Serebrier’s excellent capacity for subito provides a chamber music transparency to the proceedings. Typical of Serebrier’s color-vision, that innate gift augmented by studies with Stokowski, the second movement overflows with erotic motion, any number of veiled suggestions arising from the composer’s low woodwinds. The last movement, the ultimate Khachaturian whirling dervish, flutters, breezes, and sizzles by in due acrobatic virtuosity—a lucid reading full of musical abandon. For all of Koeckert’s fine and blistering wizardry, his silken and elegant tone, the liner notes provide no clue as to the instrument he plays—but should it turn out to be a Guarnerius, Amati, or Stradivarius, it would seem fitting given the stellar quality of his sound.

Gary Lemc, Audiophile Audition, June 2009

Derek Lee Ragin’s Poro gets two arias plus the duet with Kirkby. Ragin is on form here, dazzling with his coloratura and very, very dramatic with his tone. Ragin uses the different colours of his various registers to dramatic effect. He is not a counter-tenor who attempts to blend his registers seamlessly. Whilst I would not want to hear everyone doing this, Ragin does provide a distinctive voice in the drama.

The other singers get a single aria each. Randall Wong’s Gandarte is sung with an astounding male soprano voice and with a lovely bright tone. He is, however, rather careful with his passagework. David Cordier sings Timagene with a warm mezzo-soprano tone which is attractive but rather feminine.  Like Wong, Cordier is rather careful with the passagework and displays a little strain at the top. His aria is accompanied by a lovely obbligato flute. Dominique Visse, as Alessandro, has a rather darker voice with a slightly hollow tone. His aria includes a stunning obbligato horn, the singer apparently unphased by the part’s high tessitura.

The counter-tenors seem to have been chosen for their variety so that, on a long complete recording, it becomes easy to tell them apart—something record companies tend to forget when casting opera seria.

Agnes Mellon makes a lovely Erissena, singing with a light bright voice, which is not that different from Kirkby’s. Not a problem on this highlights disc, but I imagine it might become a problem on the complete recording.

The CD booklet has a rather bald plot summary but no texts. So if you want to know what's happening in the arias on the disc, I'm afraid you are going to have to do some research.

William Christie makes a good case for Hasse’s music and he is well supported by Cappella Coloniensis. For anyone interested in what Handel’s younger contemporaries were doing, I have no hesitation in directing you to this attractive and finely sung disc.

The Trois Poemes Juifs from 1913 is a deeply moving orchestral piece with a huge emotional and textural range that moves gradually from widely-spaced harmonies reminiscent of what Copland would use 20 years into the future to a dense and intense style of orchestration reminiscent of Richard Strauss in his later operas.

Bloch’s 1914 settings of Psalm 137 (By the Waters of Babylon) and Psalm 114 (When Israel Came out of Egypt) use French translations from the Hebrew by Edmond ' In Psalm 137, Christiane Oelze’s clear voice and beautiful French diction give the aural illusion that she could be singing the role of Melisande in Pelleas et Melisande, and the intensity of Psalm 114 (using a Strauss-like orchestration that recalls Salome) appropriately illustrates the text “Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob, who turned the rock into a pool, the hard rock into springs of water”.

Written in 1923 and orchestrated in 1939, Baal-Shem, Three Pictures of Hasidic Life is one of Bloch’s most often performed works, though not often as a piece for violin and orchestra and not often in its entirety. Bloch’s orchestration gives the piece a great deal of depth, placing an equal burden of expression on the soloist and on the orchestra. Antje Weithaas’s reading is impressive and very satisfying. Also impressive is the 1951 Suite Hebraique for viola and orchestra, because of the brilliant orchestration, the truly sensitive and tasteful playing of Tabea Zimmermann, and the intimate musical rapport between the orchestra and the soloist.

Roman Trekel’s experience in big operatic roles, not least Wagner, makes him an excellent choice for the four male-voice movements: he has the presence and range to belong in the company of the starriest-baritones, from Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau to Bryn Terfel, who have recorded the work. Twyla Robinson is less of a known quantity, and at first (in the second movement) I thought that she was lacking in at least some of the strong vocal character that is called for. Other singers have a more effortless grandeur in the challenging sixth movement, but Robinson is excellent in the intimate aspects of the fourth.