Reviews in October 1997

Symphony 1997: 'Heaven, Earth, Mankind'

Yo-Yo Ma, cello / Yip's Children's Choir / Imperial Bells Ensemble of China / Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra / Tan Dun (Sony SK 63368)

I'm not sure if readers outside Asia have ever come across this fairly new release, but since it is marketed under the Sony Classical label, my guess is, it's probably reaching out to everyone around the world.

First, some background. Symphony 1997 is a commissioned work to commemorate (I hesitate to use the word "celebrate" as people are divided in opinion, and the work also seems rather equivocal about its stand) the long-awaited hand-over of Hong Kong from the British to the Chinese government on July 1st, 1997. Undoubtedly an occasion of great historical significance for the British who saw the lowering of the Union Jack on the colony for the last time, and for Chinese people all over the world as it marked the passing of an era of humiliation suffered by the Chinese government.

Tan Dun, heralded as one of the foremost composers to emerge from China in the past 20 years, seems a likely candidate to be given the honours of writing a large-scale work to mark the occasion. Among the current ever-growing crop of Chinese composers making waves in the West, including the likes of Chen Yi and Bright Sheng, Tan is arguably the most successful of the lot. He studied in the Beijing Conservatory and at Columbia University in New York, where he now lives. Currently resident conductor/composer of the BBC Scottish Symphony, he became the youngest composer to win the prestigious Suntory Prize Commission (from Toru Takemitsu, no less) in 1993. His works have been performed around the world by groups like the Kronos Quartet and the London Sinfonietta. To date, he is best known for his experimental work with things like ceramic and paper music, and with other visual and performance artists.

Composed in three broad sections, namely (you guessed it) Heaven, Earth and Mankind, the entire Symphony 1997 is a whopping 72 minutes long. Like most of Tan's works, it attempts to fuse Chinese ethnic elements with Western musical techniques. But unlike those other works, the fusion sits less comfortably at several instances this time round.

The work opens with a Prelude for bianzhong (large ancient bronze bells buried underground since 433 BC, and unearthed in a 1972 excavation at the tomb of Marquis Yi of Zeng in the Hubei province in China), children's choir and orchestra. The material is taken from the "Song Of Peace" that rounds up the whole work. Thank goodness the bulk of the symphony is nothing like this rather unimpressive opening. It sounds distinctly derivative (rather unlike Tan's usual intensely-original output), akin to the muzak-like abstract new-age garbage cloaked as a higher art form which quite a lot of people adore these days.

Heaven opens much more promisingly. A yearning, elegiac cello melody is juxtaposed with cherubic interjections from the excellent Yip's Children's Choir, offering a stimulating blend of Shostakovichian tragedy and divine optimism. Listen out for the Chinese love song, "Jasmine Flower", which opera lovers will recognise as something from Puccini's Turandot. The rest of the movement seems almost like a lesson in Chinese culture for the curious tourist. I don't mean that exactly to be something negative. The "Dragon Dance", a symbol of good luck in Chinese custom, comes complete with celebratory brass fanfares and typical Chinese drumbeat sequences, meshed with sometimes turbulent, sometimes witty orchestral contributions. The "Phoenix" is, by contrast, awesomely beautiful. "Jubilation" is like a tribal celebration, with Beethoven's "Ode To Joy" making an important guest appearance.

The closing section, "Opera in Temple Street", provides one of those awkward moments I was talking of earlier. Traditional Peking opera, with the characteristic cymbals, nasal Chinese instruments and singers, is set over a tension-filled bass drone. It would have been far more interesting if (1) the two elements were put in greater relief (it sounds lacklustre here), and (2) you could hear half of what's going on when the opera fades. Perhaps the diffuse, rather low-level recording is to blame.

I like the next movement, Earth, best. An abstract double concerto for cello and bianzhong, it contains material from Tan Dun at his most imaginative, with some really committed, first-rate contributions from Yo-Yo Ma.

The last movement, Mankind, is the most emotional and openly sentimental of the three. It includes a touching "Lullaby" and concludes with the rather sickening "Song of Peace" that formed the opening Prelude to the whole work. But eloquent playing from Yo-Yo Ma, beautiful singing from the children, and a sympathetic advocacy by the orchestra save the day, making this a veritably subtle but charged close to the whole work.

All musicians involved in this landmark recording are top-notch, particularly the Yip's Children's Choir and Ma. The sound engineers, on the other hand, deserve to be hanged. The recording is diffuse, intolerably soft-grained, and totally lacking in presence.

Despite the interesting premise and potential behind this work, it is, however, not Tan Dun's finest; he has certainly written better things before. Symphony 1997 contains much of his genius, but is marred by sporadic descents into mediocrity. But one thing's pretty sure - at least it does its job in conveying the message that amidst turmoil and struggle in the world, there is still hope after all in the unification and solidarity of mankind.

Written by Lionel Choi

Pavarotti Plus:
Live from the Royal Albert Hall, London (May 8, 1995)

Arias, Duets and Ensembles from Verdi and Puccini operas

Luciano Pavarotti, tenor / Kallen Esperian and Nuccia Focile, sopranos / Dolora Zajick, mezzo-soprano / Dwayne Croft and Leo Nucci, baritones / Francesco Ellero d'Artegna, bass / Royal Philharmonic Orchestra / Leone Magiera, conductor / Philharmonia Orchestra and Chorus (Verdi: Hymn of the Nations) / James Levine, conductor (Decca 448 700 - 2)

When I received this latest Pavarotti CD, I wondered with a labored sigh just how good such a hodgepodge collection could be, especially since it is dominated by the tenor of the age, an artist who, most would agree, has seen better days. But it turns out that the "Plus" part of the album in the title represents a considerable enjoyment here, especially in the contributions of the sopranos, Focile and Esperian, and baritone Dwayne Croft. More importantly, though, Pavarotti is in fine form, as well. True, his voice has coarsened a bit over the years, and there are signs of strain in some of the selections here, but he makes the most of his still beautiful instrument and delivers what must be one of his most compelling concert efforts in the last decade. This disc is much more substantive than any of the "Three Tenors" issues as far as I'm concerned.

While his "Recondita armonia", which opened the concert, was a bit tepid in the first half, his following duet with Dolora Zajick, "Madre, non dormi? …Ai nostri monti" from Il Trovatore, was touching and quite effective, even if it didn't erase memories of his performance with Marilyn Horne from twenty years ago. His duet with Nuccia Focile, "Parigi, o cara" from La Traviata, which came next, was stunningly rendered. As Pavarotti sings the words "Parigi, o cara" beginning at 1:30 (track 4), notice how subtle the phrasing is in his soft, delicate tones. But Focile matches him in her ravishingly beautiful voice and consummate artistry, and then the two unite to offer the listener near vocal ecstasy. A moment in this concert to savor! The grim duet with Leo Nucci ("Invan Alvaro" from La Forza del Destino) is the contrasting follow-up: it is quite dramatic and effective. "O figli, o figli miei!…Ah la paterna mano" from Macbeth (track 6) is well sung by Pavarotti, even if the music isn't among Verdi's most inspired.

Kallen Esperian joins Pavarotti in the ensuing selection, "Dio ti giocondi" from Otello, and creates another highlight in the concert. Now, this is inspired Verdi, and the two capture the love and apprehensions of Otello and Desdemona, and the drama and beauty of the vocal writing so well. In Puccini's "In un coupe" from La Boheme, Pavarotti and Croft combine to deliver the frolicking at the outset so delightfully, then, in the visions of Mimi and Musetta, move on to passionate outpourings of love. They render this duet better than Domingo and Milnes (RCA) did in their heyday. Croft has the vocal stuff to become a superstar. In "L'acque sant del Giordano" from I lombardi, Pavarotti, Esperian and d'Artegna sing beautifully in this charming Verdi selection, the trio abetted by the sensitive artistry of violinist Jonathan Carney. The concert's two encores, the aria, "Tra voi, belle" from Manon Lescaut and the rousing Brindisi ("Libiamo ne' lieti calici") from La Traviata (where Piero Cappuccilli, Natalie Dessay, Leah-Marian Jones, and Giuseppe Sabbatini join the others) are delightful bonuses.

The disc opens with a studio performance of Verdi's Hymn of the Nations, where Pavarotti's work is again quite impressive. Personally, I'm not moved by this kind of music: an occasional piece, containing hollow and bombastic patriotic musical quotations (the British National Anthem --"My Country 'Tis of Thee" over here). Still, it's well done, and Levine's contribution and the choral singing are admirable. There, I covered every selection on the disc, something I rarely do. But, in this instance, reviewing them whole was hardly the chore I suspected it might be at the outset.

The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra performs impressively under the knowing baton of Leone Magiera throughout the 'live' concert. Decca provides excellent sound from both venues, but no texts in the opera selections. One of the most enjoyable discs of its type in years.

Written by Robert Cummings

I was somewhat apprehensive when Lionel Choi approached me to review this disc, partly due to a paucity of experience with these composers and mainly because I am no aficionado of solo violin music. Fortunately, much of my fear was unfounded as I found this disc, surprisingly, far more accessible and enjoyable than I gave it credit for.

Delmoni is a steady, persuasive advocate of these very disparate works. His technique is modestly unassuming but you can hear the insight and authority behind it. He is consistently able to coax playing of great beauty and lyricism from his instrument. The violin is placed a little too close to the mike but it does not matter for the instrument boasts a glorious sound. The program notes tell us that it is actually a J. B. Guadagnini circa 1770. Definitely deserves a listen even if the title might be a little off-putting.

Sergei Rachmaninov (1873 - 1943)

Suite No.1 "Fantasie Tableaux", op.5; Suite No.2, op.17; Symphonic Dances, op.45 for two pianos

Martha Argerich and Alexandre Rabinovitch, pianos (Teldec 90331-74717-2)

As wine improves with age, so does the remarkable Martha Argerich. Spanning Rachmaninov's composing life, this exquisite disc also bears witness to the maturation of the composer from early adulthood to barely two years before his death. The disc is a tribute and testament to Rachmaninov's mastery of the piano as composer, and Argerich's mastery as performer. This collection of three works for two pianos also demonstrates Rachmaninov's long interest and ultimate command of the medium. The complex, driven passages of the Symphonic Dances are equally powerful on two pianos as they are for full orchestra.

This is familiar ground for Argerich. Having first recorded the Suite No. 2 in 1982 with Nelson Freire, Argerich returns in this 1991 recording with her current favorite duo partner -- Alexandre Rabinovitch. Himself an accomplished pianist and composer, Rabinovitch shows he is the perfect balance to Argerich's fiery virtuosity. In earlier duo pairings, Argerich's technique sometimes overwhelmed her partner. To wit her earlier pairing with Nicolas Economou on the Symphonic Dances. However, Rabinovitch is up to the task and is every bit the complement to Argerich. Witness the stunning bravura and perfect synchronicity between the two performers in the Tarantella. Although with Freire, Argerich approached the Suite No. 2 at a slightly faster tempo, here she is cleaner, at times more restrained, but ultimately more successful. Superior sound also makes this disc preferable to the Freire recording.

This is also the second time Argerich has recorded the famous Symphonic Dances. A daunting work technically, the two-piano version is every bit the match of the orchestral version. In fact, it was written before the orchestral score, being performed for the first time by the composer with his friend Vladimir Horowitz in August 1940. It remains a classic case of poor judgment, and ultimately a tragedy of immense consequence, that RCA turned down Rachmaninov when he offered to record the work with Horowitz the year after. Perhaps the decision was swayed by the generally scathing criticism the orchestral score received when it debuted in 1941 with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra. Whatever the reason, we will never hear the composer perform this powerful, magnificent complement to his symphonies.

Fortunately, we now have two Argerich recordings of the Dances, complementing splendidly the live 1974 Ashkenazy-Previn recording, and the more recent Alexeev-Demidenko CD on Hyperion (CDA 66654). With Rabinovitch, the results are mixed. Argerich's rapid, light touch with the opening movement is at times too quick. However, what is fleeting in the opening march soon gels into captivation in the slower passages. Especially evident in the waltz of the second movement, the duo excel in the slower movements, variously described over the years by music critics as "melancholic", "brooding", and even "lugubrious". By the third movement, Argerich and Rabinovitch are in top form and the finale is thoroughly exhilarating.

The revelation of this disc is the seldom-heard Suite No.1. Composed when Rachmaninov was barely twenty and fresh out of the Moscow Conservatory, the Suite shows influences of Chopin, Liszt, and Tchaikowsky, to whom the work was dedicated. What starts out as barely recognizable Rachmaninov in the beautiful Barcarolle evolves into the Russian giant we all know in the fourth movement, the Paques. Despite what the composer himself thought, it is perhaps one of the finest early piano works of any composer, and Argerich and Rabinovitch render it perfectly. The light, feathery textures of the first and second movements are played with amazing clarity, yet warmly hued by the duo. The exuberant, thundering bells of the fourth movement are unmistakable, and glorious. All in all, this is a little known, yet exquisite CD -- a must have for Argerich or Rachmaninov collectors.

Written by Sugi Sorensen

George Frideric Handel (1685 - 1759)

Suites: No.2 in F, HWV 427, No.3 in D minor, HWV 428, No.5 in E, HWV 430; Chaconne in G, HWV 435.

Domenico Scarlatti (1685 - 1757)

Selected Sonatas Murray Perahia, piano (Sony SK 62785)

After a two-year hiatus caused by a finger injury that threatened to put his illustrious career as one of the most sensible and acclaimed pianists on the circuit to a premature end, pianist Murray Perahia returns to both the recording studio and the concert stage with new repertoire.

Followers who are familiar with Perahia's work thus far would be well aware that his repertoire hardly embraces a wide variety: There was a great deal of focus on Mozart and the Romantics, with a Bartok CD that sticks out uncomfortably like a sore thumb in his more 'traditional' discography, excellent though that Bartok performance was. (But expect some Berg and Tippett from Perahia to join Bartok later this month.)

He now goes even further back in time, and manifests publicly his long-time admiration for the clockwork, almost mathematical precision and complexity, and rigid structure of music from the Baroque era. Most would think that J.S. Bach would have made a natural choice for a maiden voyage through the vast repertoire of the 17th century. But, that's a lousy presumption - there are plenty of other music to choose from, and after all, Horowitz hardly played any Bach (save for the transcriptions by the likes of Busoni et al, which seemed much more fashionable in America than Bach's 48 on the piano in those days).

Horowitz seems a good role-model to emulate as far as half of this CD goes. After all, mention Scarlatti and nearly every discerning record collector would think of the legendary master's incredible work in this area. Here, Perahia makes an unexpected foray into Horowitz territory, and plays a carefully prepared and well-chosen selection of Scarlatti's keyboard sonatas.

I can't begin to describe how fascinating it has been to just listen to Perahia's way with the Scarlatti pieces alone. The opening K.491 suggests a festive procession without ever resorting to being overly grandiose, weighty or idiosyncratic. Instead, the performance skips along with simplistic, rustic charm, striking a sensible balance between delectable delicacy of touch and instinctive control of tonal strength and pianistic colours. The rest of the sonatas work along the same intelligent path: light, clear, sparkling fingerwork, and a constant sense of 'line' amidst all the notes (and there are many in quite a number of these sonatas!). In his hands, the piano is not so much a tool for the pianist to make his point, but becomes a living instrument in itself, one that actually sings at once with vitality, at other times with wistful sympathy, but at all times with humanity.

Except for the 'Harmonious Blacksmith' variations in HWV 430, the Handel selection is considerably more obscure. Perahia's approach seems a little more unrelenting here, and I don't see why not. Handel's music often has a more regal character, usually less obviously charming, but structurally closer to Alcatraz than with Scarlatti.

Perahia still takes an intimate view of many of these pieces, but where required, he often pushes just a fraction harder here than with the Scarlatti selection. Speeds are often exhilaratingly fast and loud chords more resounding, but everything is always kept under impeccable control, and never at the expense of the composer's musical ideas.

The Sony engineers deserve credit for the first-class recording.

Written by Lionel Choi