Leshnoff’s Violin Concerto (2006) is a five movement work loosely based on the travails of a Holocaust survivor. The violin conjures Jewish folk melodies without quoting them directly, as the work’s movements alternate between fast passages and very slow, elegiac ones. Distant Reflections (2003) is for violin and orchestra and is something of an American Lark Ascending without any of Vaughan Williams’s melancholy. As in the previous work, Charles Wetherbee is the violinist, and his style has a selflessness to it that’s quite refreshing. He shines where cadenzas call for it, but seems quite comfortable in his obligato roles.

Quartet 1, Pearl German (2006) is based on the four seasons, with Winter coming first. That helps the work seem more coherent than most other string quartets: it has more depth and is much more thematically cohesive. IV, Summer, is the standout: a solemn cross between Barber and Shostakovich in their more dour moments. This is very attractive music and the kind of release that Naxos is known for. Sound is superb, especially for the quartet.

Lutoslawski’s Recitative and Arioso is a beautiful, thoughtful piece. Subito is, according to the liner notes, aleatoric but written in traditional notation. Lutoslawski is one of the few to take aleatoric processes and make them effectively and logically serve the music. There are some stunning moments here, and the piece is virtuosic and intelligent.

The one-movement, 15-minute Partita includes beauty of form and technique and flatters the intellect that conceived it. The repeated notes give the first part intensity and integrity. Daskalakis again shows off her exceptional control of the dynamics, though she sounds like she’s straining a few times here—unlike in the other works. The piece is more abstract than its companions, partly because it has the time and space to be so.

There are three main sections with aleatoric bridges between them. It’s a very serious piece, but Lutoslawski has a knack for making difficult styles appealing and viscerally understandable. Szymanowski’s Myths is influenced by impressionist writing, but has a little more harmonic bite than Debussy, for instance. It leans toward being too programmatic, but it’s still of good quality. ‘The Fountains of Arethusa’ sounds watery without sounding like anybody else’s water music, which is no mean feat. ‘Narcissus’ conveys the subject’s pining and ardor for himself frighteningly well. In ‘Dryads and Pan’ the violin gives a very convincing impression of panpipes; Zamfir would be proud. Daskalakis’s superb flautando tone is put to good use here. Why these pieces aren’t played more is beyond me, and the same could be said for Szymanowski’s music in general. They’re virtuosic, well-written, stunning, and captivating.

The Janacek Sonata was written in 1914 and 1915, about 10 years after Jenufa’s premiere. His music is nearly always rhythmically and harmonically interesting and dramatic but unforced. There is a kinship with the Lutoslawski, especially in the Scherzo, with the use of sudden texture changes to create contrast and drama. The ending, with its last few wisps of sound, is one of the most amazing things I’ve heard in ages. What a treat for the ears this album is!

Ignaz Pleyel (1757-1831) did not write a lot of music, and not a lot of his music has been recorded. My first exposure was some years ago, around 1972, when one of these pieces (I believe) was coupled with some Mozart on a Columbia album that featured Pinchas Zukerman as soloist. I didn’t think too much of it at the time, but as I was still discovering the infinite variety of riches found in the Austrian composer, Pleyel seemed like another classical period wannabe whose light inevitably flailed in the radiance of Wolfgang. How wrong I was!

The nine or so concertos of varied stripes were composed during the composer’s sojourn in Strasburg, working at a cathedral there. He did not write any during his youth despite the undoubted influence of his teacher Haydn. But as anyone can tell from the unarguable quality of these pieces, the Haydn influence remained. The B-flat work is easily categorized as a true double concerto, replete with all of the sparkle and wit one could want, and effortlessly competitive with just about anyone’s. Well, okay, no one can compete with Mozart’s same combination for violin and viola, but this one is close in quality if not ultimate profundity. The writing is lithe and clearly melodic, while the three-movement work in A (the B-flat has only two movements) has some clever harmonic twists that almost outdo Mozart himself.

The Violin Concerto in D given here actually has two versions, the original from around 1780 and a revision made after he publicly repudiated the first, for reasons unknown. In the revised work he greatly shortened the first two movements and added a completely new rondo, quite different in tone from the original last movement. The folks here have chosen to keep the rondo, but have coupled it with the first version of the concerto, restoring much music that Pleyel discarded. Naxos is offering a download of the first thoughts on the last movement free of charge if you buy this record, and if that interests you. To me the concerto, fairly long of its type in this guise (30 minutes) is still a superb example of Pleyel’s art, and cannot be recommended too highly.

All the soloists and especially Mr. Perry play with conviction and a keen sense of style. The Baltimorians are sufficiently attuned to the needs of Pleyel and to appropriate stylistic turns of phrase that make this a most rewarding release in excellent sound. At the price it cannot be beat.

When, after about a minute or so of Britten Op. 10, Frank Bridge’s theme is heard it seems insubstantial and difficult to discern, a most unpromising subject for a set of variations. In the event the theme is often difficult to pick out within the variations too, so profoundly does Britten develop it. A bewildering number of styles, so many that the work threatens to go out of control, make up this youthful masterpiece. Some of the variations charm the listener - Romance, for example - whereas others, such as Aria Italiana, move the listener by their sheer brilliance. This live performance is brilliantly played and, the strings being fairly numerous, everything is very rich and sonorous, strikingly so in the first variation, Adagio. One is struck throughout by the meticulous attention Jurowski’s pays to Britten’s multitude of dynamic and expression markings. Indeed, with one crucial exception, this must be one of the most accurate performances available. Listen how the opening of March contrives to be both pianissimo and martellato (hammered). And Wiener Walzer is, for once, loud enough, again respecting the score, closer than ever, in spirit at least, to Ravel’s La Valse. This is, then, an outstanding performance, but there are two snags. First of all, I think the engineers might have shortened the pauses between the variations, as the sound of turning pages and some little audience shuffling damages the atmosphere, grievously so between the last two variations. More serious, though, is the problem of the final variation. The first part of the fugue is stunningly played, but in the later, astonishing passage where the theme returns in long values over the chattering fugal strings, those chatterings are just too loud. The young composer’s achievement here, to combine the brilliance of his fugue with the wistful inwardness of Bridge’s theme, is seriously undermined. Nor do the long, sustained E naturals grow out of this texture gradually, as if they have always been there - which, in a way, they have. There are other performances which manage this passage better than here, that conducted by the composer himself on Decca, for example, indispensable.

Though conceived for soprano, most of Les Illuminations was composed in the early days of the composer’s relationship with Peter Pears. Rimbaud’s poems I frankly find hard going and have often wondered if Britten would have bothered with them had he encountered them later in his life. Others, though, will find more in them than I do. The young Britten clearly did, especially affected, apparently, by the line “J’ai seul la clef de cette parade sauvage” (I alone hold the key to this savage parade). Whatever the poems are meant to communicate, the music is direct and wonderfully inspired. The opening fanfares are perhaps not sufficiently trumpet-like here - the score specifies this, after all - but Sally Matthews’ first entry, with the phrase above is striking and dramatic, leading one to expect the best in the remainder of the performance. This is pretty much delivered, with a superbly controlled glissando down from a top B flat at the end of Phrase, and likewise the pianissimo intonation of the “key” phrase at the end of Interlude. The most appreciative comments in my notes refer to quieter passages, though, and when the dynamic level rises to forte or above the singing can be less pleasing. In Villes, for example, there are passages marked giocoso (joyfully) which come over as strident, and the end of Royauté lacks charm - one should listen to Heather Harper’s delicious portamenti here to hear how it might be done. Only one or two odd vowels betray the fact that the singer is not French, but the text is not always audible all the same. This is a good performance of Les Illuminations, though, and one I will come back to, even if I prefer either Heather Harper or Jill Gomez, both on EMI.

Applause is retained only after Les Illuminations. Otherwise, the problems mentioned in the Variations are the only real signs that these are live recordings. The booklet contains a most readable and informative note by David Matthews.

This essentially local effort, which includes notes by Clifford (Kip) Cranna, features performances by soprano Lisa Delan and pianist Kristin Pankonin, both graduates of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, with additional contributions by Bay Area-bred cellist Matt Haimovitz and, in one duet, mezzo-soprano Susanne Mentzer. Distinguished by direct, clear sound that resists any temptation to over-reverb what are essentially intimate performances, the Skywalker Studios recording comes in high-resolution, optional multichannel SACD format.

As for Getty’s Poor Peter cycle of three songs, given that the composer is also a major philanthropist in matters musical and more, and deserves our immeasurable gratitude, it is not unreasonable to expect a critic to soft-pedal any qualms they may have about his compositions. I thus state, with utmost sincerity, that these three songs are immensely enjoyable. Sung with considerable feeling by Delan, the songs in Getty’s vision of Elizabethan England (or thereabouts) are distinguished by haunting lyricism and, in “Tune the Fiddle,” by body-engaging rhythms. Thoughts of Poor Peter begging for a penny may generate wry smiles, but one was probably on Getty’s face, as well, as he took pen in hand.

Some of Bolcom’s marvelous Cabaret Songs, set to poems by the late and brilliantly witty Arnold Weinstein, have received numerous recordings since their premieres by the great Joan Morris. Sopranos no less distinguished than Dawn Upshaw and Measha Brueggergosman have joined Morris and Bolcom in recording the flirtatious “Amor”; Brueggergosman has also tackled “Toothbrush Time.” Delan’s versions are considerably less operatic, and have a compelling energy all their own.

Delan also gives her all to four folk song and folk-song–like settings by Heggie, many of which were written for Frederica von Stade. (It is difficult not to listen to these without imagining Flicka’s unique sound and soulful sensibility.) If Delan’s voice is neither the most comfortable at the top of the range, nor consistently alluring, she nonetheless handles it with such intelligence as to merit kudos.

Haimovitz’ rich, evocative cello joins Pankonin and Delan on “Im Grasse,” the first of S.F. Conservatory Professor David Garner’s three Annettes-Lieder. Of these beautiful settings of poems by Annette von Droste-Hülshoff, I find irresistible the soothing if conventional melody of “Der Weiher” (The weir). Garner’s gems provide fitting contrast to Corigliano’s two droll Cabaret Song settings of poems by his partner, Mark Adamo. Luna Pearl Woolf’s 10-minute setting of Pablo Neruda’s “Odás de Todo el Mundo” (Odes of all the world) — a vocal tour de force that taxes Delan’s resources — makes for an animated conclusion.

Rische and company give a virile performance of the concerto that should please all but the most persnickety listeners. Performance and recording are hardly reasons collectors will consider purchasing this, though they may be assured of top quality in both categories. In tracks 2 and 4, Rische uses his own cadenzas. After that we are given ones by Beethoven, Brahms, Busoni, Hummel, Franz Xaver Mozart (the composer’s son), and Clara Schumann. The Schumann and FX Mozart cadenzas are for the Rondo only.

Rische’s own cadenzas, while using Mozart’s material, are the most shockingly incongruous. Obviously there are things Mozart would not have done harmonically and rhythmically (the Rondo cadenza even takes on some jazzy elements). Nothing else here is uninteresting or spreads too wide a gap in the taste barrier.

Ricci’s Brahms disc has been deleted. This may eventually share the same fate—so if it interests you, grab it quickly. Rische’s notes are interesting (though he chooses not to discuss his own cadenza), the orchestra plays well under Griffiths, and the original idea deserves support.