Reviews in March/April 1998

Krzysztof Penderecki (b.1933)

Metamorphosen - Violin Concerto No.2

Béla Bartók (1881 - 1945)

Violin Sonata No.2, Sz 76

Anne-Sophie Mutter, violin / London Symphony Orchestra / Krzysztof Penderecki, conductor / Lambert Orkis, piano (DG 453 507 - 2)

A general survey of his fairly modest but distinguished output will reveal a body of very serious work. His popular choral pieces are mostly religious, intense and austere. In the orchestral category, the well-known Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima involved 52 strings paying haunting, eerie respects to the casualties of nuclear warfare.

It therefore comes as no surprise that Penderecki and Anne-Sophie Mutter should hit it off so well. The celebrated German violinist, herself no mere attractive, glamorous fiddler but is, instead, a musician who takes her art very seriously, has often professed disdain for showy, frivolous violin repertoire from the likes of Paganini, Kreisler and Wieniawski, opting for pieces that nourish the soul.

And soul food is what one finds in abundance in Penderecki's elegiac Second Violin Concerto entitled Metamorphosen, an astonishingly musical work that belies the fact that this man toys around with inanimate objects in his free time to make weird sounds.

This must count as one of the best things to happen to the contemporary violin repertoire since Berg's revolutionary concerto.

Opening with an insistent, ominous motif that reappears in various guises throughout the single-movement, 38-minute work, the first bars already set the tone for the rest of the work.

Whether in her brooding, distinctly melancholic first notes which creep into one's consciousness in the same way the violin solo does in the subtle introduction to Prokofiev's First Violin Concerto, or in the quicker, more aggressive, motoric sections, Mutter makes a gigantic feast out of her meaty, multifarious role.

She handles the various mood swings with feminine elegance, building feverish climaxes not with red-blooded impetuosity, but with impeccable subtlety. In her plentiful sustained lines, she is not unlike a Maria Callas totally immersed in a painful but songful aria, bringing forth an emotionally-charged experience, helped in no small part by the incredibly wide palette of violinistic colours and effects she has at her disposal.

Her warm, ravishing half-tones, at times with an eerie lack of vibrato, are magnetic.

It would not be fair to say this is so severe a work that it is devoid of human sympathy and charm: There are virtuoso sections that were handled with muscular bravura, never too angular (check out the thorny cadenza at track 5), and a good measure of Shostakovichian irony, and even sardonic wit, were thrown in to produce what is, on the whole, a stirring brew.

To have the composer himself conducting ever so idiomatically is almost too good to be true.

A recording of Bela Bartók's Second Violin Sonata, made in conjunction with a recital she gave with accompanist Lambert Orkis at the Berlin Philharmonie, is hardly a generous filler, but it makes a fascinating companion for Penderecki's concerto, for the similarities are uncanny.

There is little to fault in their performance that is oozing with that undeniably compelling star quality, although it does become a little too much of a good thing. Beside an honest performer like György Pauk (on Naxos), Mutter sounds narcissistic and overly self-indulgent.

The engineers, predictably, lasso Mutter all the way to the front, somewhat obscuring the impact and immediacy of the London Symphony's excellent contributions in the Concerto, especially at lower dynamic levels, but otherwise, there is little else to complain about the sound quality.

Written by Lionel Choi

The Long, Long Winter Night

Norwegian piano music by Edvard Grieg, Geirr Tveitt, David Monrad Johansen, Fartein Valen & Harald Sæverud

Leif Ove Andsnes, piano (EMI CDC7 2435 56541 2)

There are so many things that are praiseworthy here.

First and foremost, the choice of repertoire. Most of the pieces here are obscure but utterly delightful.

For a composer that lived between 1908 and 1981, a time when avant-garde music was fast becoming fashionable, Geir Tveitt wrote incredibly tuneful, tonal and atmospheric music in his set of Fifty Folk Tunes from Hardanger (1953) that harks back to the golden days of late Romanticism and French impressionism.

The late style of Harald Sæverud (1897 - 1992) is also unlike the atonal experimental techniques of 20th-century composers. Here, Andsnes performs several pieces, also programmatic in nature, that depict the barbarism of war (think Bartokian moto perpetuo) and the beauty of nocturnal, pastoral scenery, among other things, all taken from his Tunes and Dances from 'Siljustøl'.

David Monrad Johansen (1888 - 1974) is represented by his programmatic Norlandsbilleder suite which evokes beautiful, quaint moving images of religious worship, Nature and breathtaking Nordic landscape. The Variations for Piano, Op.23 by Fartein Valen (1887 - 1952) are stylishly conceived, akin to the best piano works of composers of the Second Viennese School such as Schoenberg and Webern.

No survey of Norwegian composers would be complete without the greatest of them all - Edvard Grieg (1843 - 1907). The folk-inspired Norwegian Folk Tunes and Peasant Songs are about the best-known piano music from him besides the oft-recorded Lyric Pieces.

The second good thing about this CD is the playing. It would suffice to say that Leif Ove Andsnes makes a peerless, brilliant, understanding guide through this Nordic repertoire. He gives a breath of fresh air to this music through his wonderful fingers, illuminating every facet of the composers' intentions, his impeccable artistry always at their service. It would be hard to beat his sense of total involvement.

Thirdly, there is the EMI engineers' wonderful work, giving Andsnes' handsome tone richness, transparency, immediacy and bloom.

Lovers of piano music: This is the disc to get this month.

Written by Lionel Choi

Serge Prokofiev (1891 - 1953)

Complete Music for Solo Piano:

Volume 1: Sonatas: No. 1in F Minor, Op. 1; No. 2 in D Minor, Op. 14; No. 3 in A Minor, Op. 28; No. 4 in C Minor, Op. 29. (HARMONIA MUNDI HMU 907197)

Volume 2: Sonatas: No. 5 in C Major, Op. 38/135; No. 6 in A Major, Op. 82; No. 7 in B-Flat Major, Op. 83. (HARMONIA MUNDI HMU 907198)

Volume 6: Six Pieces, Op. 52; Sonatinas, Op. 54, Nos. 1 & 2; Three Pieces, Op. 59. (HARMONIA MUNDI HMU 907189)

Volume 7: Tales of an Old Grandmother, Op. 31; Juvenilia: Presto; Allegro in D Minor; Lento; Tarantella; Allegretto; Tempo di Marcia; Scherzo; Music for Children, Op. 65; Ten Pieces, Op. 12. (HARMONIA MUNDI HMU 907190)

Frederic Chiu, piano

Certain pianists, like Berman and Nissman, employ a modis operandi in Prokofiev interpretation that involves rounding the edges and softening the hard surfaces. (In Berman's case it generally works.) Chiu, on the other hand, is only too eager to highlight the conflicts, to point up the bitter ironies, to stress the harmonic pungencies, and to seek out the darker, deeper recesses of Prokofiev's multi-faceted psyche. Try his icy, powerful opening to the Sixth Sonata (Vol. 2; track 4). Only Cliburn (RCA) is grimmer here, but even he doesn't quite convey the elements of terror as well as Chiu, especially in the brutal but powerfully symbolic ending (track 7). Also, take note of Chiu's rendering of the second movement of the Seventh (track 9), where he phrases the beautifully decadent main theme ravishingly, hypnotically, then takes you into a frightening netherworld. His playing here is unsurpassed in its insight and vivid atmosphere. Too bad his finale is marred by a brief patch of curious dynamics--a sudden softening near the end before rebounding to full volume (track 10, 3:03). Still, his Seventh is a formidable one. Chiu's reading of the Sixth Sonata is easily among the best I've heard, equaling Cliburn's and surpassing that of Kissin (Sony and RCA) and Pogorelich (DG). And his account of the Fifth contends for top honors with those by Berman and Bronfman, but I do wish he had toned down his slightly curt manner in the middle movement that has the effect of overdoing the sort of free-spirited decadence.

In the first four sonatas Chiu is also compelling. His readings of the Second and Fourth vie with the best. Try the Second's third movement (Vol. 1; track 4), where his slow tempo not only doesn't impede the dark musical trajectory, but in fact enhances it, drawing out the gloom and sadness in an almost Debussyan way. The great Andante to the Fourth (track 8) is played with a cleverly-nuanced light touch to impart mystery, with explosive but never fulsome power to convey the violent outbursts, and with deft sensitivity to communicate the unabashed innocence of the alternate theme. All four works on this disc, in fact, are exceedingly well played.

Chiu performs the music in the other two volumes convincingly, as well. Volume 6 features that splendid pair of Sonatinas. Berman and Sandor offer excellent performances in their respective surveys, but Chiu possesses marginally superior articulation and seems to find a bit more depth here--more depth than even he realizes is there, if I read his slightly disparaging album notes on these two works correctly. Among the six transcriptions that comprise Op. 52, No. 5 (track 5) is rendered with uncommon insight and subtle voicing that make this piece sound as native to the piano as to its string quartet origins. And No. 6 is performed with such virtuosic panache and brazen glitter as to infuse a more modernist spirit into the piece, a transcription of the good-natured Scherzo from the Op. 5/48 Sinfonietta. One misfire on this disc is the Sonatine Pastorale, whose stiff phrasing and slow tempo at the outset make the work sound more nocturnally "urban" than brightly "pastoral." On the whole, though, this disc is revelatory, probing Prokofiev's music where others often tend to gloss.

Volume 7, recorded less than a year ago, features works, as a blurb on the back cover states, that "stem from, or are related to, childhood..." In some cases the connection with youth is rather tenuous: in Op. 12, none of the music is about childhood, but some of the ten pieces are based on compositions Prokofiev wrote when he was very young (he began composing at five years of age!), and in Op. 31 we find music depicting an old grandmother--as seen through the eyes of a grandchild. The Op. 12 collection, if mostly sardonic and lighthearted, is fairly substantial, and Chiu delivers each of the ten pieces with his usual deft skills. Try the opening March (track 20), where he captures that delicious impudence and caustic Prokofievian humor so well. Sandor, Berman and others have done these pieces convincingly, but the recent Naxos disc featuring Eteri Andjaparidze offers Chiu his strongest challenge. To me, both versions are indispensable to the Prokofiev enthusiast. Chiu plays the Music for Children with a winning charm, and makes just about the best case possible for the less than compelling Tales of An Old Grandmother.

In sum, this series offers impressive playing by a young pianist with ideas. If I remember correctly, Chiu entered the Cliburn competition some years ago and failed to make the finals. If his playing there was on this level, I'd say the jury committed a grievous blunder.

Harmonia Mundi offers excellent sound, and very intelligent notes by the pianist. Highest recommendations.

Written by Robert Cummings

Joseph Haydn (1732 - 1809)

Symphony No.97 in C major; No.98 in B-flat major; No.99 in E-flat major

Cleveland Orchestra / George Szell (Sony MHK 62979)

Solti, in his highly-praised partial survey of these Haydn symphonies on Decca, must have drawn some inspiration from these great, long-lost recordings by George Szell and his Cleveland Orchestra, now rediscovered in refreshed stereo sound. The 97th and 99th Symphonies are taken from 1957, while the 98th was recorded 12 years later.

Cutting-edge precision in ensemble work, eloquent phrasing, buoyant, crisply-sprung rhythms - all these contribute to highly-musical, frothy performances that bubble, spit, fizz and sizzle with ceaseless energy and zest.

Beside Szell, stylish classicists like Marriner end up sounding bland. These Sony recordings are the performances to live by, to love and to cherish from now.

Brilliantly remastered, attractively repackaged (although avoiding scratches while taking the CD in and out of the cardboard sleeve is, sadly, impossible) and reasonably priced, these Szell-Cleveland classics should be making many new friends with discerning tastes.

Written by Lionel Choi

Joseph Haydn (1732 - 1809)

Cello Concerto No.1 in C major, Hob.VIIb:1; No.2 in D major, Hob.VIIb:2; Sinfonia (Overtura) to Lo speziale, Hob.Ia:10

Han-Na Chang, cello / Sächsische Staatskapelle Dresden / Giuseppe Sinopoli (EMI CDC7 2435 56535 2)

Compared to the violin and the piano, there is certainly a shortage of cello music from the 18th century. This might very well explain why so many great cellists of today do not seem to display as idiomatic and in-depth an understanding of Classical period repertoire as their colleagues at the piano and violin do.

Rostropovich arm-twisted his way through these two concertos in his recording on EMI; Yo-Yo Ma's overly-indulgent accounts (on Sony) were frustrating in the way he maintained near-inaudible sotto voces and smoothened corners in a fashion more suited for Romantic music; Jacqueline Du Pré (EMI) tried to strike a balance, but veered a little too much towards Ma's brand of tiresome affectation.

I am also not convinced that both these concertos should be treated all too differently. The 1st is undoubtedly livelier and more buoyant, and the 2nd is more on the softer, more lyrical side. But that certainly does not warrant playing the latter with mushy Romanticism as many cellists (with Ma leading the field here) do. Both works may convey different moods, but the style remains quintessentially Classical.

I am therefore glad that Korean cellist Han-Na Chang maintains a fairly consistent view of both concertos.

A mere 15 years old when this recording was made last year, she plays like an experienced virtuoso of the instrument. The teenage wonder is no less masterly here as she was in her stunning debut recording of Saint-Saens' Cello Concerto and Tchaikovsky's Rocco Variations, one which took the music world by storm.

In these Haydn pieces, Chang displays a beautiful, warm and resonant tone, and plays with a youthful freshness, bubbly enthusiasm and ardour that elude many of her older colleagues. There are absolutely no signs of inexperience, or lack of artistic maturity.

What is less appealing, however, is her interpretation. Like Du Pré, Chang attempts to bring both fire and ice to her feisty part, but the final product is rather awkward.

In the outer movements of the First Concerto, she digs into Haydn's bravura writing with verve and almost masculine aggression (listen to how she tosses off all the cadenzas so confidently and effortlessly), and then, without any explanation or warning, drops suddenly to an extended sotto voce just a few bars later. The same pattern permeates throughout, and it becomes questionable if the dynamic contrasts should be this sharp.

But having said that, the tender lyricism of the two slow movements comes seeping through not with Romantic mush, but with a rich pathos, directness and glowing intensity.

Chang's account does not oust Misha Maisky's zealous, exhilarating and racy (at times disconcertingly so, but I like it nonetheless) account on DG and Heinrich Schiff's elegant, poised readings on Philips from my very short list of favourites in these works, but it is still well worth hearing, particularly when cello playing this commanding and colourful hardly comes by these days, at least not from someone at Chang's age.

Beside his eager young soloist, conductor Giuseppe Sinopoli sounds like a wooden block with no flair. Better known for his idiosyncratic, expansive, lush accounts of Puccini and Wagner operas and Romantic symphonies than for 18th-century classics, Sinopoli's orchestral support is square, mundane, dry and two-dimensional, despite the tightness and precision of ensemble and the ostensible enthusiasm of the Dresden players.

EMI offers excellent programming by separating the two concertos with the charming, though dotty and frivolous, Overture to the comic opera, Lo speziale (The Apothecary). Indeed, it helps to make a listen-through of the entire disc a more pleasurable affair. But as with the concertos, Sinopoli's direction remains unidiomatic despite effervescent tempos.

Written by Lionel Choi

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 - 1827)

Sonata No.12 in A-flat, Op.26

Serge Prokofiev (1891 - 1953)

Sonata No.3 in A, Visions Fugitives, Op.22 (Selections), Prelude in C, Op.12

Sergei Rachmaninov (1873-1943)

3 piano pieces, 4 preludes

Alexander Scriabin (1872 - 1915)

Etude in C-sharp minor

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)

Prelude in B

Emil Gilels, pianist (Music & Arts CD-746)

Gilels has always been notoriously uneven in his interpretation of Beethoven, although his performances never fail to be thought-provoking. He is famed for his searching and stunning interpretations of 'Les Adieux' and 'Hammerklavier' but he was also notorious for his uncharacteristically mediocre 'Pastoral'.

In the middle-period Sonata No.12, Gilels presents us a sonata whose perfection is frustratingly marred by strange eccentricities. The first movement of variations is delightful, and Gilels gives us an enchanting and thoughtful rendition that clearly demonstrates his keen insight and understanding of Beethoven. Even better is the cheerful and exuberant Scherzo where Gilels plays with great panache and command of keyboard colour. Far less satisfactory is the laborious, plodding and highly unsubtle slow movement, whose nonchalance seems inexplicably callous and indifferent. The Allegro also seems somewhat insubstantial and diaphanous, and Gilels perhaps rushes through it a little too quickly, leaving the listener breathless and excited but not quite making an impact.

Prokofiev's 3rd sonata is one of his most popular and witty works, and Gilels plays this with great impetuousness and fire. He is explosive and tempestuous and generates the kind of nail-biting intensity and atmosphere that Horowitz was famous for. Although the playing is a little messy, there is no doubting the dazzling quality of the virtuoso playing. Though not as stunning as Gavrilov's even faster reading on DG, Gilels give us a more magisterial and perhaps more authoritative account of the work. Note that there is a particularly blatant error in the CD's encoding, with the last part of the sonata carried over to another track and combined with the Visions fugitives selections.

I found the selections from the Visions fugitives to be the highlight of the disc. These introspective and impressionistic sounding little pieces are presented very sympathetically and vividly by Gilels, and he very subtly and gently weaves a spell of magic around us with his very mesmerizing and meditative playing of these works. The Prelude in C, however, suffers from an approach that is over-angular and glosses over the lyrical aspects of the work.

There is some electrifying playing in the three piano pieces by Rachmaninov, where Gilels reaches into the soul of the music and there are some heart-wrenching moments when the sheer beauty and poetry of his playing overwhelms you. Look no further than the plaintive Vocalise for an example of this. The preludes are of course played with flair and competence but somehow seem more lacking in intensity and imagination.

The Scriabin etude is a little jewel that Gilels plays with coruscating tenderness and warmth. He is very personal in this intimate piece and charms with a magical moodiness. The Bach prelude, which is a somewhat queer item to end the recital with, is funereal and somber and delivers a solemn and piquant farewell to one of the great pianists of the 20th century.

Despite the ups and downs in this recording, there are more highlights than idiosyncrasies and the so-called historic stereo sound is passable. A must for devoted Gilels aficionados although there are probably better versions of most of the works on this disc.

Written by Melvin Yap

Modest Mussorgsky (1839 - 1881)

A night on the bare mountain (arr. Stokowski)

Richard Wagner (1813 - 1883)

Siegfried Idyll

César Franck (1822 - 1890)

Symphony in D minor

London Symphony Orchestra / Symphony of the Air / Hilversum Radio Orchestra / Leopold Stokowski (Music & Arts CD-657)

Mussorgsky's 'A night on the Bare mountain' is a spectacular extravaganza with the orchestral arrangement made by Stokowski himself. Stokowski unleashes the pent-up ferocity and elemental force of this powerful work and the London Symphony Orchestral is unusually aggressive in not only the stormy introduction but also suitably subdued and tender in the ruminative ending.

The thunder and lightning of Mussorgsky however pales in comparison to the exquisitely haunting and beautiful 'Siegfried Idyll'. The Symphony of the Air, under the capable baton of the maestro, breathes magic and enchantment into this intensely intimate and tranquil work. Close your eyes and you will practically be wafted away on the wings of a spell.

Rounding up the disc is a very masterly and unforgettable account of Franck's awesome and gigantic 'Symphony in D'. In this work, the master brings us on a tension-filled, tumultuous journey through this passionate and emotional work. The symphony runs the gamut of emotions, from ecstatic joy to darkest depression and Stokowski makes the music speak to our hearts across all the time and space. His famed 'Stokowski sound' is in full force here, and he coaxes a seductive, sensuous and fully sonorous accompaniment from the little-known Hilversum Radio Orchestra.

The sound of this disc is a little uneven, with the Franck symphony getting the best treatment. A Night on the Bare Mountain is a little too loud and hectoring for my comfort while the Siegfried Idyll really can do with better sound. Nonetheless, the magic of Stokowski is so great that very soon the sound deficits seem to hardly matter in the light of such extraordinary music making.

Written by Melvin Yap

Serge Prokofiev (1891 - 1953)

Symphony-Concerto in E Minor for Cello and Orchestra, Op. 125; Concertino in G Minor for Cello and Orchestra, Op. 132; Two Pushkin Waltzes, Op. 120

Alexander Rudin, cello / National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine / Theodore Kuchar (Naxos 8.553624)

Most important cellists play the Symphony-Concerto, but few have taken up the Op. 132 Concertino. (This is only the third recording of the work that I have heard, and scarcely more than that have been issued.) Prokofiev died before finishing the work. Rostropovich completed those parts of the finale left unfinished using Prokofiev's sketches, and Kabalevsky orchestrated it. The composition shares a theme in common with the Symphony-Concerto, present in both works' finales, thereby linking all three cello pieces. In the end, the Concertino comes across as an interesting and thoroughly delightful, though not quite masterful, creation. Had Prokofiev lived to complete the Concertino himself, the final result would most certainly have been more impressive.

Alexander Rudin plays both works convincingly, rendering the abundant lyricism in each with a rich, velvety tone and with a fine sense for phrasing and structural grasp. To sample his interpretive skills, try his Concertino's second movement (track 5): notice the warmth in the first statement of the beautiful main theme; then hear the subtle delicacy and gentleness in the restatement that immediately follows. Yet Rudin never resorts to sentimentality by turning on the vibrato or by milking the lyricism beyond its emotional boundaries. It is true, though, that he either overplays his cuteness or at least attempts to inject some eccentric interpretive ideas into the Symphony-Concerto: at 8:59 in the second movement (track 2), following his well-played cadenza, Rudin enters with soft, furious playing that rather pushes the music too hard and slightly diminishes its sinister character. Still, his reading overall is quite effective, even in this movement.

With excellent recordings of the Symphony-Concerto by Rostropovich (Erato & EMI) and Wallfisch (Chandos), it's hard for any newcomer to carve out a niche here, but Rudin's performance is not to be dismissed, even in this company. Ma (Sony) and Schiff (Philips) have offered decent but not impressive recordings. In the Concertino, Rudin delivers as effective a reading as you're likely to hear.

What adds greatly to this disc's appeal is the inclusion of the Two Pushkin Waltzes, generally neglected works, receiving the most spirited performances I've yet heard. And that's saying a lot, since Jarvi's Chandos readings are also very good. In both cello works Kuchar and his Ukrainian orchestra provide excellent support, offering powerful and incisive accompaniment in the Symphony-Concerto, for once making you hear the work as part symphony and part concerto, as its title suggests. Good notes and splendid sound. In the budget realm, this is a steal.

Written by Robert Cummings