YSAYE, E.: 6 Violin Sonatas, Op. 27
Simax: PSC1293

The link between J.S. Bach’s sonatas and partitas and Belgian violinist and composer Eugéne Ysaÿe’s op. 27 is a strong feature of these works. Direct quotations, such as the reference to Bach’s second sonata in the Sonata No.2 are the clearest pointers, but the symbolism and formal relationships pointed out and illustrated in Henning Kraggrud’s own comprehensive booklet notes leach through just about every aspect of these works. The Bach informs and strengthens the individual qualities of each sonata, while in no way turning any of them into lame pastiche. Each of Ysaÿe's solo sonatas is dedicated to a younger violinist, those among the outstanding players of their day. Not only do they bear dedications to Szigeti, Thibaud, Enescu, Kreisler, Crickboom and Quiroga, they also contain numerous more or less hidden messages for these interpreters.

Henning Kraggerud’s playing is sturdy and robust, and where in live performances I have heard some players over-romanticising the more gentle movements, the Amabile in the Sonata No.1 or the Malinconia in the Sonata No.2 for instance, Kraggerud allows the music to speak directly, giving it plenty of tenderness but never slackening in intensity or rhythmic direction. His technical assurance is second to none, and the most demanding passages are breathtaking. I won’t say he makes them sound easy – the sheer physical requirements come over like hard-won battles. Kraggerud always wins however, giving enough detailed care to allow the music to shine through, and showing enough bravura to make the most important dramatic moments sound as if the world’s axis is turning around the hairs of his bow. The effects and colours in Les Furies from the Sonata No.2 crackle and spark with all the sense of danger you get from an overhead power cable. Kraggerud brings out the ‘character’ nature of the pieces as much as possible, but it takes an educated ear to spot many of the clues. Some of the more apparent of these are to be found in the ‘Kreisler’-orientated Sonata No.4, in which his technical style and bravado appear interwoven through numerous fantastic moments.The white-heat of inspiration which saw Ysaÿe create these works in a short period during his 66th year is reflected in Kraggerud’s performance with utter conviction from beginning to end.

This SACD hybrid recording is truly excellent. In stereo there is a little of what sounds like channel-hopping now and again, but when full surround mode is used you have more of a 3D sense of the violinist moving around. This must always be a bit of a nightmare for sound engineers, especially when editing, but the production on this disc is superlatively good. The violin played by Kraggerud is a 1744 Guarneri, made in the last year of the master’s life, and showing the maker having to resort to local materials. The back for instance is made from beechwood as opposed to the more exotic and commonly used imported maple. The loan of the instrument and recording was funded by Dextra Musica, a series of such recordings of which this is a part. There are some lovely close-up photos of the violin throughout the well designed disc gatefold and booklet for this release.

There are a number of recordings of these remarkable works around now, and the high technical demands of the music mean there are very few if any that one could call weak. Of the complete sets, Thomas Zehetmair on ECM has to be one of the top considerations. Then there is Leonidas Kavakos on Bis and Frank Peter Zimmermann on EMI – also both strong contenders in the market. These performances all seem to engender a strong following in those with whom they have come into contact, and there is no right or wrong in this. Henning Kraggerud’s excellent performances with their value-added SACD recording can be considered alongside all comers as one of the very best at the highest level.

Dominy Clements – MusicWeb International (August 2008)
http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2008/Aug08/Ysaye_PSC1293.htm

Britten: Owen Wingrave
Chandos: CHAN 10473

This marvellous new recording, only the third in the work’s history, deserves to go a long way towards popularising this late Britten masterpiece.
 
It isn’t difficult to see why Owen Wingrave has always been one of Britten’s least popular stage works. Like all of his operas, it concerns an outsider and his attempts to fit into a world that does not accept him. In this case, however, it was a subject particularly close to Britten’s heart. A committed pacifist throughout his life, Britten struggled to fit into the culture of wartime Britain in the 1940s, indeed spending much of the war in the USA as a conscientious objector. So Henry James’ ghost story on this theme appealed to him more than normally.
 
Owen is the last in the long line of a family of military heroes. He rejects fighting and is shunned by his family and fiancée. As a test of courage she dares him to spend the night in the haunted room of the Wingrave mansion, Paramore. He does so, but is found dead the next morning, his death brought about by the strength of his own convictions. Britten’s opera was originally commissioned for television by the BBC in 1967 and his original cast recording survives on CD (only available now as part of a bigger set). However Britten always said that the opera would work just as well on stage and he supervised the first staged production at Covent Garden. The Linbury Theatre at Covent Garden performed it in April 2007, but the opera has seldom been revived and a new production of Owen Wingrave is a rare event indeed. Dramatically the opera isn’t as tight as Britten’s other operas, and the overt pacifism of Act 2 can get a little wearing, but there is much to enjoy, and this new set from Hickox is a perfect way to begin discovering it.
 
Britten was always a master of structure in his operas and he weaves a tight web through Owen Wingrave. In The Turn of the Screw, another James-based ghost story, Britten works the introduction to each scene as a steadily intensifying set of variations. Similarly, the prelude to Owen Wingrave consists of a musical depiction of each of the ten Wingrave portraits that adorn the walls of Paramore. Each portrait is accompanied by an instrumental cadenza; most striking is the fifth, a double portrait of the father who killed his son and whose ghosts are said to inhabit the haunted room. Britten takes these instrumental textures and honeycombs them through the opera, especially Act 1. The tone becomes more spectral with Act 2, which opens with a melancholy ballad (with off-stage tenor and boys’ chorus) telling the story of the ghosts. It is this vacant trumpet melody which dominates Act 2. The City of London Sinfonia has lots of experience of Britten opera under Hickox (listen to their outstanding Midsummer Night’s Dream and Rape of Lucretia) and they fit into this score as if it was made for them. The instrumental cadenzas each inhabit an entirely different characteristic, they are spellbinding when charting Owen’s convictions in Act 1 and terrifying when accompanying the tense nocturnal conversations at the end of Act 2. Furthermore they are just the right size for this kind of music: nothing is lost, but nothings is drowned out either. They remain one of the best Britten orchestras around.
 
Similarly, I have no doubt that Hickox is the greatest Britten conductor of our - or perhaps any - day. He has conducted nearly all of Britten’s operas for Chandos and Virgin/EMI and every one is a revelation. He manages to shed new light on each of these masterpieces in a way that even the composer’s own recordings don’t often manage and he is helped in every case - including this one - by demonstration quality sound. The “production” here is not intrusive: we hear singers approaching from the right and left but it does not distract. The off-stage events in Act 2 - the aforementioned ballad singer and Sir Philip’s denunciation of Owen - are ideally placed and only add to a sense of drama. Throughout, Hickox paces the drama ideally, allowing the slower passages, such as Owen’s dialogues with other characters, but building up extraordinary tension towards the dénouement.
 
The singing is also tremendous, with one exception. The tenor roles are sung dramatically, and the three Paramore women are particularly well characterised. Elizabeth Connell’s voice can be alarmingly piercing when first heard, but this is entirely appropriate for the shrieking harpy that Miss Wingrave is. Janet Watson and Sarah Fox differentiate the roles of mother and daughter well, no mean feat considering how similar the roles are. Alan Opie is marvellously authoritative as the teacher, Coyle: he and his on-stage wife, Janice Watson, provide the only grains of sympathy for Owen in the piece. It is, unfortunately, with Peter Coleman-Wright’s performance of the title character that we run into problems. There is a rather unpleasant “grit” to his voice, which too often leads to an unsteady timbre and uneven singing. At first I tried to ignore this, and then I tried to convince myself that it was part of his characterisation of the role: I’m not at all sure of this, though, and, regrettably, I think it’s more likely that he was just having a bad time while he was working on this recording.
 
This is a real shame, because if his performance had been more secure then this would easily become the top choice for this work. As it stands, we must continue to pay equal heed to Britten’s own recording with Benjamin Luxon, John Shirley-Quirk and Janet Baker. I still think that Hickox one wins out on balance, though: his compelling interpretation together with the orchestra and the marvellous sound make this a winner. Fans of Britten opera need not hesitate, and any other opera-lovers who fancy a challenge should head for this enthusiastically.
 
Simon Thompson—MusicWeb International (August 2008)
http://www.musicweb-international.com/classRev/2008/July08/Britten_Owen_Wingrave_chan104732.htm

DEAN, B.: Viola Concerto / 12 Angry Men / Intimate Decisions / Komarov's Fall
BIS: BIS-CD-1696

Brett Dean was a viola player in the Berlin Philharmonic before leaving the orchestra in 2000 to concentrate on his parallel career as a composer. But he has continued to appear as a soloist, and the two works included here that feature his playing show him to be a formidable and musical player as well as an impressive composer. The Viola Concerto confirms the impression it made at its first performance at the Barbican, London, in 2005. It is one of Dean's most successful orchestral works, an asymmetrical, three-movement structure that pivots about a dark, central scherzo. Intimate Decisions, from 1996, is a wonderfully virtuosic solo piece that only someone with a deep knowledge of the viola could have composed. Twelve Angry Men, composed for the 12 cellists of the Berlin Philharmonic, is an instrumental drama inspired by Sidney Lumet's famous film, while the miniature tone poem Komarov's Fall was one of the pieces that Simon Rattle commissioned to accompany Holst's The Planets. It all makes an excellent showcase of Dean's range as a composer.

Andrew Clements – The Guardian (15 August 2008)
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2008/aug/15/classicalmusicandopera7

Antill: An Outback Overture; Corroboree
Naxos 8.570241

It's about time somebody gave us a brilliant new recording of John Antill's primitivist masterpiece Corroboree, a ballet based on Australian aboriginal music--and lots of other things besides! Eugene Goosens commissioned the work in the 1940s and recorded a suite of extracts for Everest, but aside from that pioneering effort and the 1977 EMI recording from John Lanchberry, Antill's work has been almost completely ignored. Despite obvious comparisons with Stravinsky's Rite of Spring (which Antill claimed not to know), there really isn't anything quite like the sound of this piece.

A more apt comparison might be Prokoviev's Scythian Suite, particularly in Antill's finale, with its glittering scoring featuring insane gobs of percussion (including a bull-roarer). The opening movement's rhythmic ostinato recalls Revueltas (Sensemaya), while the shorter inner movements feature more delicate textures and some sweetly memorable melodic invention. It's all great fun, a touch outrageous, even cartoonish (Antill has a certain overfondness for the ratchet), and it's dazzlingly performed here by James Judd and the New Zealand Symphony. An Outback Overture might best be described as Copland meets Vaughan Williams--like the former's Outdoor Overture, the piece is bubbly and full of catchy tunes.

Naxos' engineering is a touch on the dry side, but this works particularly well in Corroboree, allowing maximum clarity without sacrificing impact or dynamic range. It would be very interesting to hear more of Antill's work to see if the obvious talent on display in this single piece found its way into his work generally. According to the informative booklet notes, most of his output postdates the 1940s, making the prospects all the more enticing. Let's see if Naxos takes the hint.

David Hurwitz – Classicstoday (29 July 2008)
http://www.classicstoday.com/review.asp?ReviewNum=11821

Giordano: Marcella
Dynamic: CDS573

In a luxurious restaurant in Paris a group of friends are enjoying life in the small hours when the painter Giorgio appears. In reality, he is prince and heir apparent in a country somewhere in the Balkans. There is a row when a group of people are seen running after a frightened girl, mocking her for not wanting to be kissed by some customers. Giorgio and his friends defend the girl and the crowd disperses. The girl tells Giorgio her story. Her name is Marcella. She comes from poor circumstances and followed a friend to work in this restaurant. The establishment has a dubious reputation but she has not yielded to living in sin. Giorgio and Marcella are gradually drawn to each other and the first episode end with the couple leaving the restaurant together.

In the second episode we are in a country house where Marcella and Giorgio are living together, deeply in love. Marcella still doesn’t know Giorgio’s true identity. His friend and compatriot Drasco arrives and tells Giorgio about the serious political situation in their home country. The sovereign is old and weak and Giorgio realises that it is his duty to return home and settle the unrest. He wants to leave the same night. Marcella overhears the conversation and understands that this is the end of their happy life. They talk about it in deep sadness.

In the third episode it is night and they are bidding each other farewell. Giorgio wants Marcella to come with him but the difference between their conditions is too big, says Marcella and rejects his offer. They part in deep distress – their mutual feelings are not dead but their mutual life together has become impossible.

This is the plot in this short Idillio moderno, a kind of verismo aftermath by Umberto Giordano. Giordano first came to notice when he took part in a competition for the best one-act opera; it was won by Pietro Mascagni with Cavalleria rusticana. Giordano’s contribution, entitled Marina, was placed sixth among seventy-three. This led to a commission from the publishers Casa Sonzogno for the 1891-92 season, Mala vita. Dealing with a prostitute heroine it caused a minor scandal but it was so successful that it was played in Vienna, Prague and Berlin as well. In 1896, after a romantic opera that flopped, his best known work, Andrea Chenier, was premiered and it has stood the test of time ever since. Fedora, premiered two years later with Gemma Bellincioni singing the title role opposite a young and practically unknown Enrico Caruso, has also survived though in a more backward position. The aria Amor ti vieta is in most lyric-dramatic tenors’ recital repertoire. His later operas are seldom or never heard but Siberia (1903) – with singers like Rosina Storchio, Giovanni Zenatello, Giuseppe De Luca and Antonio Pini-Corsi in the premiere cast – had resounding success and ran for several seasons in Paris. As late as 1915 Madame Sans-Gêne was a hit when it was premiered at the Metropolitan in NY, conducted by Arturo Toscanini and with Geraldine Farrar, Giovanni Martinelli, Pasquale Amato and Paul Althouse in the leading roles.

In the liner-notes there is a curious statement that Giordano was ‘in the final phases of his creativity (only Mese Mariano was to come …’. This seems to be a misunderstanding from the translator, since this bracketed passage doesn’t appear in the Italian original. The truth is that Giordano completed another three operas after Madame Sans-Gêne – the last of them, Il Re, in 1929. Another was left unfinished.

‘Puccini with water’ was the dismissive comment I once heard about Giordano’s music. It may be that his melodic invention isn’t as constantly inspired as Puccini’s. He sometimes resorts to rather empty bombast or syrupy sentimentality. The orchestral texture is not always as refined and subtle as the older master’s, but there are many memorable melodies in his oeuvre and arias and duets are eminently singable. Giorgio’s Dolce notte misterioso in the third episode is an aria that Puccini would have been proud of. Both Tito Schipa and Beniamino Gigli agreed and sang it in recital. No less than Fernando De Lucia was the one who sang it at the premiere, while Gemma Bellincioni, who was the first Fedora a decade earlier, sang Marcella.
Writing lovely music for tenor and soprano was Puccini’s forte and in this opera they are practically the only ones that matter. ‘The three acts are nothing more than three love duets for the protagonists’, says Alberto Cantù in his notes and this is by no means an exaggeration. Of the others only Drasco has something important to sing. Most of this comes in the dramatic and powerful scene in the second episode, when he and Giorgio discuss the terrible situation in their home country. Maybe the finest music in the opera is the prelude to episode III for strings, an evocative nocturne opening with a ravishingly beautiful cello melody. The long scene in episode II E dovrei lasciar tutto … Sempre così. Voglimi bene! is truly inspired and again Puccini must have envied his younger colleague.

Recorded during performances there are some stage noises, but I’ve heard much worse. The sound is slightly dry but it is well balanced and the record company lives up to its name. I haven’t been able to find any information on the soloists but soprano Serena Daolio has at least taken part in a complete recording of Marchetti’s Romeo e Giulietta and tenor Danilo Formaggia has featured in another Romeo and Juliet opera, Bellini’s I Capuleti ed i Montecchi. They have primarily lyrical voices, she slightly fluttery, lending a vulnerable quality to her singing, he smooth and with a good ring, though not without some strain. They both grow in dramatic conviction through the opera and the final duet is deeply moving. Pierluigi Dilengite has a good darkish baritone and invests Drasco’s role with pathos.

I doubt that there will be too many opportunities to see and hear this opera live and there is undoubtedly some highly attractive music that has been unperformed for too long. ‘Puccini with water’ indeed! But I prefer that mix to ‘Puccini with syrup added’ which in some musical bars I have visited has been the only available option.

Göran Forsling – MusicWeb International
http://www.musicweb-international.com/classrev/2008/Aug08/Giordano_Marcella_cds573.htm

Dohnanyi: Violin Concertos Nos. 1 & 2
Naxos 8.570833

Fascinating to hear these two works one after the other, the First Concerto (1915) representing the naively romantic world that the Second (1946) revisits so poignantly, and so knowingly. The First Concerto employs the harmonic language of Wagner and Strauss in combination with rich Brahmsian textures, its most memorable moment being the harp-accompanied melody in the Andante second movement. Both concertos are sizeable four-movement structures, but the First is the less disciplined of the two by far with a l4-minute finale that incorporates both a Brahmsian-style chorale theme and a Mendelssohnian use of arpeggios.

Turn to the better-known Second Concerto and you'll encounter leaner textures, stronger themes and a more rigorous structure. There are moments of great originality too, such as the passage towards the end of the Intermezzo where the soloist plays harmonics against glissando trombones and then the finale's horn-accompanied cadenza. The sombre (and extremely beautiful) Adagio is a sorrowful song indeed, an elegy that seems to reflect both historical and personal tragedy. Dohnányi would never fully shake off the stigma of moving from Hungary to Austria in the last years of the Second World War, even though he personally opposed so much of what was happening in Nazi-occupied territories.
Competition includes a fine version of the Second with James Ehnes (Chandos) but there is no currently listed version of the First. Michael Ludwig plays with abundant feeling and JoAnn Falletta directs wholly sympathetic accounts of the two orchestral scores.

A satisfying and educative release, one that I would strongly recommend.

Rob Cowen – Gramophone (September 2008)