Category Archives: CD

In the Wake of the Great War

 

Benjamin Martin, piano

MELBA

TTP: 62’ 08”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

Understandably, in this centenary year of the outbreak of World War I, there’s been a flood of recordings of music influenced by this terrible and protracted upheaval.

 GreatWar

Pianist Benjamin Martin recently recorded a number of works for piano written in the early aftermath of this conflict.

 

Arnold Bax’s Third Sonata in G sharp minor is of particular interest. It came into being at a troubled time for the composer, his immediate family – and two women with whom he was having affairs. While hardly anyone these days cares tuppence whether people living together are married or not, in the 1920s cohabitation was considered scandalous and talked about in low voices.

 

Of Bax’s two mistresses, Harriet Cohen and Mary Gleaves, it was Cohen who was by far the most famous – perhaps notorious is the better word. Miss Cohen, in fact, had an affair as well with Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald and extremely close relationships with other eminent Establishment figures.

 

Bax was Master of the King’s Musick – and uncharitable types would often snidely refer to Miss Cohen as Mistress of the King’s Musick. For years, Cohen was Bax’s muse, inspiring him to write many a work which might otherwise have not eventuated. The Sonata No 3 is in that category.

 

Its outer movements are turbulent and often confrontational, a response perhaps to the domestic quagmire Bax found himself in at the time, with much internecine warfare on the marriage front. Mrs Bax flatly refused to give her husband the divorce he wanted. And because of puritanical attitudes at the time, the Bax/Cohen liaison had to be conducted in furtive ways. The Sonata is dedicated to Cohen.

 

The first movement comes across as an extended improvisation, with mercurial sallies and bursts of energy that call to mind some of Scriabin’s busier piano preludes. There are also fleeting moments of tenderness. In less assured hands, this could all too easily come across as aimless, rambling, turgid and tedious. But Martin, with fearless fingers, steers a sure course through a musical minefield without coming to grief.

 

Martin sounds in his element in the slow movement which comes across as a murmuring, introverted sonic haze, like a peaceful nocturne – a calm harbour after stormy seas. And in the finale, Martin sails with elan and accuracy through a floodtide of notes.

 

Vaughan Williams’ Hymn-tune Prelude, also dedicated to Cohen, is an oasis of tranquillity, unhurried and beautifully considered, reinforcing that old saying that the best gifts often come in the smallest packages. It certainly applies here.

 

Three Preludes by Delius are frankly ephemeral, miniatures not without a certain faded charm, especially when presented with such insight as here.

 

Frank Bridge taught Benjamin Britten as a child and, in gratitude, Britten later wrote his Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge thus ensuring the older man a lasting celebrity which his own music might not.

 

All praise to Benjamin Martin for taking us across Bridge’s musical terrain with such authority – but not even this fine pianist can bring a sense of meaning to a veritable tsunami of notes. Handwringing anguish, moments of nocturnal tranquillity, bunched chords, moments of ominous confrontation, filigree coruscations, deep bass rumblings – there’s no shortage of ideas. But just as preparing a cake using fine ingredients is not enough to ensure an appetising outcome unless the flour, sugar, baking powder are brought together in a way that ensures success, so mixing often worthwhile musical ideas without a carefully thought-through strategy, can result in disappointment – a musical cake fallen flat.

 

Here, Bridge throws into the mix villainously difficult filigree coruscations,

dreamy nocturnal moments, emphatic bunched chords, quiet bass rumblings. But despite these being handled with the skill and staying power of an Olympic athlete, one is left with an impression of a succession of ideas (many impressive and engaging) that calls to mind a number of articulate people busily talking but without listening to one another.

 

 

Gems of the Baroque

Renata Tebaldi (soprano)

New Philharmonia Orchestra/ English Chamber Orchestra

Richard Bonynge (conductor)

ABC Classics 482 1059

TPT: 77’47”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

image001Far and away the chief joy of this compilation is Richard Bonynge’s direction of the English Chamber Orchestra in a series of overtures and interludes by Handel.

These purely orchestral tracks make for delightful listening. They sparkle ­ and for the most part, when called for, they are engagingly buoyant, the playing a model of the musical discipline that has made the ECO the world beater it is. In more introverted moments, the players are no less persuasive.

While the Good Humoured Ladies suite, Tommasini’s arrangements for orchestra of some of Scarlatti’s harpsichord sonatas, do not really preserve the buoyant essence and energy of the keyboard originals, Bonynge and the ECO are never less than professional in their approach to the score. The introverted Sonata in B minor is finely considered, and the much loved Tempo di ballo
comes across as a gentle pizzicato delight.

As a child growing up in Cape Town in the 1950s, I recall vividly the family listening often to Renata Tebaldi and Mario del Monaco on the radio. It was at the height of their fame. Tebaldi,  who retired from the stage by 1973 – wisely – made these recordings some years after that. But by the mid­1970s, the once pristine, exquisite lirico­spinto voice had begun to be gently touched by time – and this is apparent in some of the baroque­era arias she sings with the New Philharmonia Orchestra on this CD.

The middle range, still largely intact, impresses but in the upper reaches of the register, the superb control and staying power of Tebaldi’s early years are less apparent. And control of the lower range wavers. But Tebaldi’s interpretative powers, her ability to reveal even the subtlest change of mood, are as glowingly evident as ever. She brings, for instance, a most effective vituperative edginess to Stizzoso, mio stizzoso from Pergolesi’s La Serva Padrona. And there is a perfect
assessment of the melancholy essence of Piango, gemo which is attributed to Vivaldi.

Cecilia Bartoli – St. Petersburg

I Barocchisti cond. Diego Fasolis

DECCA 478 6767

reviewed by Neville Cohn

In a sumptuous offering on the DECCA label, Cecilia Bartoli, prima donna assoluta, brings to us repertoire which until very recently had faded into just about total obscurity. It is fascinating fare, and its resurrection of the hitherto vanished and forgotten is thoroughly warranted, especially when
sung by one the great voices of the century.

BartoliHave you heard of Hermann Raupach or Francesco Domenico Araia – or Domenico Dall’oglio?

You haven’t? Well, here’s a rare opportunity to listen to some of the music of these gentlemen ­and presented by a phenomenal vocalist.

Bartoli, singing in Russian, is at her dazzling best in an aria from Raupach’s
Hercules. Busy, energetic strings with brass fanfare punctuations form the background against  which a flawless vocal line is traced, a performance that sets the pulse racing.

In El placido il mare, Bartoli’s singing is the vocal equivalent of super virtuoso pianist Vladimir Horowitz in this exultant, dramatic offering.

Who was Raupach? German­born, he once met Mozart and the two improvised at the harpsichord.

He also worked for years at the Imperial Russian Court in St Petersburg where he wrote no fewer  than 14 operas. He was a favourite of Tsarina Elizaveta Petrovna.

Another gem is the prelude to La clemenza di Tito – not the one by Mozart but Dall’oglio and Madonis. Gently reflective flute playing by Marco Brolli and Bartoli’s wondrous vocal ornamentation make musical gold of this.

As well, there’s an upbeat, emphatically rhythmical march in which I Barocchisti ensemble comes into its own.

Bartoli is joined by soprano Silvana Bazzoni and RSI radiotelevisione svizzera chorus in an all- stops­out, celebratory account of A noi vivi, donna eccelsa from Manfredini’s Carlo Magno

DECCA is on to a winner here. It’s not only the singing – which is beyond reproach – but the

overall presentation. The liner notes are in the form of a small hardcover book with many pages of fascinating music history as well as insights into the lives of three of Russia’s most formidable tsarinas. It’s lavishly illustrated, too.

If you purchase only one compact disc this year, then let it be this. It would make the perfect Xmas gift for anyone interested in vocal artistry at the very highest level.

Music of Benjamin Godard

Royal Scottish National Orchestra

Victor Sangiorgio (piano)/ Martin Yates (conductor)

CDLX 7274

TPT: 69’ 51”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

This fascinating compact disc offers three world premiere recordings, all by Benjamin Godard. And not before time. The other day, I did an impromptu poll asking numbers of concertgoers who Godard was. Very few had heard of him and fewer still could relate his name to any of his music, with two citing Berceuse de Jocelyn as the only work of his they could call to mind. More’s the pity because Godard was a prolific composer, producing, inter alia, eight operas (including Jocelyn), five symphonies and many songs.

 

SangiornoFor this unveiling for the first time on CD of Godard’s Piano Concerto No 1, it was an inspiration to engage Victor Sangiorgio to feature as soloist. From first note to last, he shapes to the demands of the work like fine French champagne to a goblet. Lightness of touch, fingers which know few fears and an ability to focus on fine detail without losing sight of the grand sweep of the concerto, make this recording a first rate listening experience, not least for Martin Yates’ masterly direction of an on-form Royal Scottish National Orchestra.

 

In the opening movement, the music oscillates between powerfully assertive, tonally muscular moments and introspective murmurings. Darting figurations and elfin flourishes delight the ear in the scherzo. And how lyrically Sangiorgio negotiates the third movement, its introspective measures gauged to a nicety. The finale with its rippling arabesques and emphatic rhythms holds the attention totally. Throughout, the soloist responds to the score with an impeccable sense of style.

 

While Godard’s Introduction and Allegro is perhaps of lesser quality than the concerto, it is presented with such high musicianship that, at least for the duration of the piece, the music sounds rather better than it, in fact, is. It’s musical persuasion at its most eloquent. The Allegro is musical froth and bubble that doesn’t carry any grand message but prattles engagingly on.

 

 

Music Composed in Concentration Camps

Francesco Lotoro (piano) and friends
KZ MUSIK CD17

reviewed by Neville Cohn

Francesco Lotoro, that tireless collector of music composed in prison (primarily concentration camp) environments, features prominently here in the role of both solo pianist and accompanist.

concentration

Rudolf Karel will not be widely known as composer so it is thanks to the dedication of Lotoro that works such as Karel’s Nonet opus 43 are recorded here. It’s in the form of a reconstructed piano score.

Karel studied both music and law in what is now the Czech Republic. He happened to be holidaying in Stavropol in Russia when World War I broke out and he was arrested on suspicion of being an Austrian spy – but he managed to escape.

Later, back in Prague, Karel taught at the city’s Conservatorium but during World War II he was arrested again, this time by the Gestapo. He continued to compose in prison and a friendly warder supplied him with sheets of toilet paper stuck one on top of the other to enable them to be written on and these compositions were smuggled out of the camp. He died in Theresienstadt.

In this piano version, the outer movements of Karel’s Nonet are played with immense authority by Lotoro whose performance makes for riveting listening. The movements come across as utterances of hand-wringing anguish, a barely contained hysteria. It is disturbing, at times menacing, music – and this interpretation is in the most positive sense, remarkable. It reaches out and seizes the attention in a vice-like grip.

Music by French composer Emil Goue makes up the rest of the CD. Goue taught physics at a grammar school in Bordeaux. He also studied composition with Koechlin and Roussel. For much of the war, Goue was a POW in oflag Nienburg am Weser, a prison camp for army officers in Lower Saxony, Germany where he worked tirelessly.

Lotoro’s account of the Prelude, Choral and Fugue holds the attention throughout. Note clusters in the Choral call the music of Messiaen to mind – and in the Fugue, Lotoro brings fluency and accuracy to give point and meaning to its contrapuntal intricacies.

In Goue’s Prelude, Aria and Finale, the first movement opens with dramatic, confrontational, arresting measures before giving way to much more introspective moments. There is an intense, introverted quality to the Aria – and stark, stabbing figurations are a feature of the Finale.

In three songs by Goue, Lotoro is a first rate accompanist to soprano Libera Granatiero’s singing. In selections which, for the most part, focus on melancholy, Granatiero’s interpretative skills are well to the fore, the overall impression enhanced by quite beautifully conceived accompaniments played by Lotoro.

Goue made it back home to Paris after the war but died tragically soon thereafter from an illness contracted in prison camp.