The Clarinotts

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Ernst Ottensamer, Daniel Ottensamer, Andreas Ottensamer (clarinets)

with Wiener Virtuosen

Mozart, Mendelssohn, Rossini, Ponchielli et al

DGG 481 19172

TPT: 56’ 50”

reviewed by Rosalind Appleby

 

“We know what our partners will do a millisecond before they do it”, says Andreas Ottensamer, the youngest member of The Clarinotts. “It’s a luxury you’ll rarely have with any other ensemble”.

 

The incredible cohesion between the three clarinetists is what struck me on a ‘blind’ listen to The Clarinotts album – that and their uncannily similar sound quality. It made sense when I had a closer look at the performers and realised it was Ernst Ottensamer in ensemble with his sons, the famous Viennese ‘Royal Family of the Clarinet’.

 

Ernst Ottensamer is being mourned around the world after dying tragically of a heart attack on 22 July. He was only 62. Ernst was principal clarinet in the Wiener Phiharmoniker from 1983 and founding member of the Wiener Blaserensemble and Wiener Virtuosen.

 

Ernst inspired a generation of clarinettists around the world, including his own children. His eldest son Daniel became co-principal clarinet in the Vienna Philharmonic alongside his father, and his youngest son Andreas is principal clarinet in the Berlin Philharmonic. Together, the three of them formed The Clarinotts, releasing their first album in 2009 and their second in 2016.

 

The 2016 self-titled album opens with Mendelssohn’s sparkling Concert Piece No 1 for clarinet, basset horn and orchestra. The brilliant duet was composed rather appropriately for the father-son duo of Heinrich and Carl Baermann. It is full of dazzling operatic writing and I was struck by the warm, full bodied sound of the basset horn and clarinet – and the driving energy of their playing.

 

The album’s repertoire traces Ernst’s career trajectory including his time in the pit of the Vienna State Opera with works like the trio Soave sia il vento from Mozart’s Cosi fan tutte and the Fantasy on themes from Verdi’s Rigoletto by Franz and Karl Doppler. Dance-style works also get a look in with Rossini’s La danza quoting from the overture to William Tell and the sentimental French-style waltz of Cantilene from Francaix’s Petit Quatuor.

 

Ponchielli’s Il Convegno has both sweetness and fire. Andreas and Daniel perform with extraordinary precision, their virtuosic runs, flourishes and dramatic rubato perfectly synchronised.

 

As you would expect, this is an album of great finesse and class, accompanied by none other than the Wiener Virtuosen, an ensemble made up of the section principals of the Wiener Philharmoniker. They are certainly some of the best players for the romantic/early 20th century repertoire that dominates the first half of the album.

 

Bela Koreny’s Cinema I is based on the plot of Paul Verhoeven’s film Basic Instinct and you can feel the intrigues and the tension in Ernst’s spooky bass clarinet and the wails of Andreas’ and Daniel’s clarinets over the top, accompanied by the Wiener Virtuosen with Christoph Traxler on piano. The bossa nova tune Morning of the Carnival by Luiz Bonfa was another contrast; slick and sultry.

 

A comment for clarinet nerds: check out the almost inaudible articulation from all three. It sounds like diaphragm articulation but it has the even attack of tonguing, generating sublimely clean playing.

 

The richness of this album is the synergy of three virtuosic clarinetists who really do seem to be of one mind:  it sounds like one person multi-tracking!  But what makes it really gripping listening are the energy and emotion the Ottensamer family bring to their music making. They really pull out all the stops in Olivier Truan’s unaccompanied trio The Chase and it’s an exhilarating conclusion to the album. Turns out, it is also a fitting final bow from Ernst Ottensamer; a testimony to a life spent sharing music with excellence and passion.

Unheard Mozart

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Anthony Goldstone (piano)

divine art dda25051

TPT: 71’ 44”

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

Over the years, as I’ve listened to the recordings of Mozart by Anthony Goldstone, I almost invariably think of the biblical story of Ruth who, following in the wake of  those harvesting this or that grain, would find nourishment for herself and others from the scattered ears of corn or wheat. Ruth was a gleaner. So, too, in a very different context, was Goldstone.

 

Think of these snippets of musical thoughts, incomplete or abandoned ideas, scraps of paper with a scribble or two (meaningless to most but musicologically beyond price in some cases) –  which, in the minds of most, would be considered as so much rubbish to be thrown away.

 

In the biblical Ruth’s case, her gleanings sustained life – and in Goldstone’s case, tiny scraps of paper, sometimes a bigger piece left unfinished or unedited were re-animated. Here, Goldstone breathed life into what almost everyone else would have dismissed as inconsequential – to be thrown away with no thought given to the possibility it might be musical gold. What most others would regard with indifference, Goldstone saw as rich possibility.

 

And what fascinating miniatures these are: part, perhaps, say of a piece that would be carefully completed by Goldstone: a minuet perhaps – or a sarabande.

 

Mozart aficionados the world over owe an immense debt of gratitude to this remarkable man who with scrupulous care – and affection – brought to life what, in lesser hands (and minds), would simply have been left lying in the dust. His passing leaves us all the poorer.

 

Goldstone realised the potential of these snippets which others might unthinkingly have dismissed as worthless, ephemeral, expendable, barely worthy of attention. Wrong!

 

There is a delightful improvisatory quality to the opening Praeludium: the recorded sound quality is excellent in a piece which oscillates between slow introspection and virtuosic brilliance. It’s rather like an improvised cadenza. Glowing, golden tone and impeccably spun trills are fine features.  A number of pieces were found unfinished and – one senses a profound humility in this – lovingly, respectfully completed.

 

 

Sibelius Piano Trio

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Yarlung Records 52630

       reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

As a child working towards a Trinity College of Music piano exam, I particularly liked a short piece – Arabesque – by Sibelius. It is a charm-laden, miniature delight and my first encounter with the Finnish master. It’s one of a considerable number of short pieces that poured from Sibelius’ pen. But how many of Sibelius’ little pieces come to mind as you read this?

 

Sibelius_YAR52638_FrontcoverDuring the interval at a recent orchestral concert, I asked a number of concertgoers at random which works of Sibelius they could call to mind other than the symphonies, the Violin Concerto, the vast works inspired by Finnish legends and Finlandia? No one – and these were folk who were regular and enthusiastic concertgoers – could call any to mind. Certainly, there’s work to be done to make people more aware of at least some of Sibelius’ neglected works.

 

Sibelius’ output as a child (his first piece is said to have been written at the age of ten!) and as a young man is astonishing. At least part of the reason is that he grew up in a home where music was an inextricable – and very important – part of daily life. His siblings played piano and cello. Jean was the violinist of the family. His hopes of becoming a violin virtuoso were never realised. He’d have had to commence fiddle study much earlier to have had a hope of succeeding in that field. As was the case of Schumann, Sibelius’ having to forgo a life as a virtuoso was a personal tragedy – but his work as a composer brought an enduring fame that could never have been equalled as a concert soloist, no matter how gifted.

 

In addition to this, this intriguing compilation encompasses music written by contemporary  Finnish composers whose names could well be new to most listeners living beyond the borders of Scandinavia.

 

Diego Schissi’s Nene, for instance, opens with a terrific, offbeat dance. It radiates gusto, with tricky rhythms and much pizzicato.  Listen to a background of quiet pizzicato across which runs a dream-like cello line. Later, the attention is drawn to the piano with its stab-like utterances. The movements are intriguingly titled: Jumping on the Walls, Dozing on a Hanger; Riding a Mosquito!

 

David Lefkowitz’s Ruminations calls up images of Middle East dances and what might be a folksy Yiddish extemporisation, desperately melancholy and introverted.

 

There’s charm aplenty in Sibelius’ Korppoo Trio. True, it’s not recognisably by the Finnish master: the work is too early for that. But its jejune melodies are beautifully played. The finale. is a jovial, three-in-a-bar knees-up with an obeisance to Brahms and much tinkling from the piano near the top of its range. One could think of it as a trial run for an ascent to greatness.

 

Consider this: at a similar age, Shostakovich was already well ahead in the originality stakes. Mendelssohn’s overture to A Midsummer Night’s Dream was written as a teenager:  his style was already fully formed. But with Sibelius, it was a case of good things being well worth waiting for.

 

Recordings like this don’t just happen. And those who have pooled their resources to this excellent end deserve real praise.The focussed work of many has been called upon to bring this CD into being: executive producer Ann Mulally, 100th Anniversary sponsors Randy and Linda Bellous and, crucially, the Sibelius Trio (Petteri Iivonen, Juho Pohjonen and Samuli Peltonen). This initiative is to mark the100th anniversary of an independent Finland.

 

 

 

 

Silver Sands Guitar Trio

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Perth Town Hall

reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

 

Outside, it may have been raining with a teeth-chattering-chilly wind as well – but Perth Town Hall provided a cosy, pleasantly warm environment as we listened to a charm-laden program featuring three classical guitarists of high accomplishment, collectively known as Silver Sands Guitar Trio: Jonathan Paget, Craig Lake and Nathan Fischer.

 

Each of the Silver Sands players is a guitarist of high (and deserved) reputation in a solo capacity. But collectively, they have submerged their individuality to create a new multi-person identity – and it was in this latter capacity that we listened to a fascinating and intriguing compilation.

 

Azariah Felton’s Tintinyungu was given its world premiere performance. Its gently flowing, charm-laden measures give way to more assertive moments. I’d like to listen to it again.

 

The composer points out that the title means ‘‘to challenge or compete with” and the piece shows this by pitting the players against one another “through different time signatures and rhythmic groupings”. It’s fascinating fare.

 

I liked Francis Kleyjans’ Imagerie, Hommage a Debussy, a charming obeisance and clever allusion to Debussy’s unique style. Another delight – Gnatalli’s Toada from Brazilian Popular Suite in an arrangement by Laurindo Almeida – has an engagingly danceable  quality.

 

Two movements from Suite Retratos provided intriguing listening, too. First movement, entitled Ernesto Nazareth, came across as stylish with a first class blend of tone. Chiquinha Gonzaga is a busy miniature, a bustling delight.

 

Nigel Westlake’s Shards of Jaisalmer was exquisitely presented, a most attractive composition but needing some judicious pruning; it seemed too long for its material.

 

A delightfully laidback Rio Rhapsody by Gnatalli arr.Almeida was the afternoon’s curtain raiser: a splendid introduction to the afternoon.

 

Earlier, we listened to the W.A.Guitar Society Orchestra conducted by Jane Darcey.

Millenium Rag was a pleasant, charmingly lazy, tango-like offering and Darcey’s own River Rocks made for most appealing listening as well.

Pacifica Quartet

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reviewed by Neville Cohn

 

In its original and accurate sense, chamber music, by definition, is intended for performance in a small space – perhaps, say, in the lounge room of a suburban home or the entrance hall of a mansion or, at most, in a small commercial space. Intimacy is its crucial requirement. As a critic who has long since lost count of performances devoted to such music, I can say that during those many years, the number of times I’ve listened to high-end chamber music in the sort of space which the composers might have had in mind for this or that work, is very, very low indeed. Commercial considerations demand continuation of the status quo. It’s virtually non-negotiable.

I dare say that box office takings at concerts featuring musicians who are paid very high fees are a necessary requirement.

 

Photographer Matt Landy

But there was a delightful departure from this state of affairs at a concert given in a suburban Perth residence in a conventionally-sized room. The Pacifica Quartet, US-based, was to give a performance at the Concert Hall on the night following. But to raise funds for bringing music and musical instruments to young people living miles from cities and so far away in some cases that even radio reception is uneven or non-existent, the Pacifica ensemble agreed to participate in a re-creation of an old-style chamber music environment..

 

Bringing the musical action so close to the listener can be an extraordinary experience, not the least of it being the strikingly different sound that reaches the ear, for instance, the unmistakable but only-very-rarely encountered grainy quality as bows bite strings. A first encounter can – and often is – a startling and even off-putting experience. I have known some listeners who find the experience so grating and unpleasant that they find it necessary to leave the room. In larger performing spaces such as purpose-built auditoriums, this is a non-issue.

 

Some liken close listening to bow on string to the sound of a finger nail scraping down a blackboard. Its metallic, ratcheting sound can be offputting.

 

So it was a fascinating experience to listen to Beethoven’s late quartet – opus 135 – under these conditions. Of all Beethoven’s chamber music produced in the twilight of his life, opus 135 would be one of the most accessible. To be frank, I’d have preferred to listen to it in a larger space. Although this was a rare opportunity to listen to a music masterpiece under conditions similar to those in Beethoven’s time, I found the nearness of the instruments eventually oppressive. But it was a rare experience and I’m so glad I had that opportunity to experience chamber music as it might have sounded in the composer’s day. I think every enthusiastic chamber music follower might benefit from an insight of this sort if only on a one-off  basis.

 

There was more than Beethoven on offer. We listened, too, to utterly different music in the form of  Astor Piazzolla’s Four for Tango. This, too, came across as a sonic gem to cherish.

 

My there be more of these events, fascinating in their own right – and beneficial in a very real and important way for young musicians in remote places. Bravissimo!