​I was completely unfamiliar with composer Peter Heise, thus I relied on the excellent CD booklet more than usual for information about him and his music. It contains comprehensive liner notes written by Jens Cornelius, from which I summarize here for a bit of context.
 
Peter Arnold Heise was born in Denmark in 1830 and died in 1879 at the peak of his musical creativity, aged just 48. He was notably a composer of songs and an opera. His string quartets were almost entirely unknown in his lifetime and fell into complete oblivion (along with a Piano Trio and a Piano Quintet.) The manuscripts were packed away after his death, and eventually handed over to the Royal Danish Library in 1912, where they were considered “discarded works”. One Quartet surfaced in 1931, and a couple others in the late ‘40s/early ‘50s, receiving a smattering of hearings, but the complete set remained largely unknown and unpublished until 2017. The present recordings by the wonderful Nordic String Quartet bring these marvelous works to light for the first time. The first 3 quartets were recorded in 2022 and released at that time. This current set combines those with new 2025 recordings of the final 3, which are world premieres.
 
I found it interesting that Heise was primarily a composer of songs, because listening to these string quartets, I kept admiring their lyricism, thinking over and over what an amazing composer of melody he was. Another aspect I kept admiring was how all 6 quartets are very similar in sound, tone, form and overall style, yet so individual, there is never a sense of sameness or routine to them. In fact, I loved what I was hearing so much, I couldn’t turn it off, and ended up listening to all 6 quartets (3 CDs, with a total playing time of 2-1/2 hours) all in one morning. I never grew tired of them; I never got distracted. I was captivated from beginning to end, as I continued hearing endlessly attractive, alluring, beguiling music. I found this remarkable, considering these were all written in quick succession between 1851 and 1857. And it is the very freshness of creativity which makes each one uniquely rewarding, yet unmistakably cut from the same cloth.

These are substantial works, each comprised of 4 movements and lasting around 20-30 minutes (to as much as 35 in the 5th). I can be brief in describing each quartet, as I think I could literally cut and paste my musical observations to them all. There are differences, of course, which make them so endlessly enjoyable, but they all bring to mind many of the same musical elements to varying degrees, from familiar masters such as Mendelssohn and Haydn, to hints of Mozart and Schubert; and most predominantly, the unmistakable influence of Beethoven almost everywhere. The music portrays a prominent melodiousness with an underlying dramatic vigor, and traditional, late Classical, harmonic progression. But for the most part, Heise tends to exhibit a lovely Nordic lyricism and transparency of textures in his music which is noticeably less determined (and serious) than Beethoven - or even Mendelssohn. And don't think for a minute this in any way sounds like "2nd-rate" Beethoven. Far from it. Heise is a master in his own right.  
 
Before I get into greater detail, let me make some comments about the playing and the recorded sound which apply to the entire set. First and foremost, the playing of the Nordic String Quartet is simply beyond reproach. Their lovely sound, musical insight and articulate playing remind me very much of one of my favorite string quartets - the wonderful Pacifica Quartet. And that is quite a compliment in and of itself. Their understanding of, and commitment to, these marvelous works are remarkable. They make each one an individual mini-masterpiece. 
 
And the recorded sound is excellent - immediate and well focused, within a warm, though very reverberant, very large auditorium (the Garrison Church in Copenhagen). Indeed, that reverberation is almost - but not quite - too much for its own good. The engineers have done an admirable job focusing the group within it without thrusting them forward into the soundstage. It never gets in the way or detracts from the musicmaking; however it, nonetheless, is ever-present and a constant reminder of itself. Interestingly, though the various recording sessions take place over several months, separated by 3 years, and employ 2 different sound engineers, the recorded sound is remarkably consistent throughout the entire set. It’s extremely pleasing, with good detail and presence, while that huge acoustic lends an appealing allure to the overall blend of the group. I believe this very quality actually enhances the passages of dramatic gravitas I hear throughout these pieces.
 
Going back to listen again, beginning with the 1st Quartet, to make notes for this review, I was surprised at how rhythmic and articulate the music was, particularly as I had been so struck with the lyricism of the set overall (perhaps more so in the later works). But immediately in the opening Allegro of #1, yes it’s lyrical, but there is a rhythmic invigoration which propels it. And I noted the superb dynamic contrasts and crisp articulation in the playing. The group then relaxes with a lovely silkiness of tone which draws you into the melodic creativity over the rhythmic momentum. And they bring such charm to it, alternating with real drama too. And that’s not all. There are some truly virtuosic passages as well; and not just scales and arpeggios, either - even the bravura is sheer musical brilliance. This certainly isn't easy music to play!
 
The Larghetto is kept moving along, propelled by articulated repeated chords underlying a singing 1st violin. There’s even an appealing chorale passage in the central section. And it’s in the Scherzo where Mendelssohn first makes a strong appearance, especially as the tonality remains in the Minor even here. The Nordic Quartet refrains from a true prestissimo though, affording it a bit of gravitas. The same can be said of the final Allegro vivace - it’s not all that fast (I actually would have welcomed a more vivacious tempo here), allowing a bit of Mendelssohnian importance to weigh in. Heise develops this into a quite impressive fugue, and a strong recollection of Beethoven begins to emerge for the 1st time. (And certainly not the last, as we shall hear soon enough.)
 
Now to G Major we go for #2. And the molto vivace Allegro certainly pleases as Haydn sneaks in a smile from the past. But the ghost of Mendelssohn remains ever-present. The Largo is moving with a melody announced by the cello, then taken up and expanded by the 1st violin. The Nordic Quartet wisely keeps this flowing, avoiding any heaviness to weigh it down. (The same can be said for all the slow movements in this set.) Happily, there’s more Haydn (and even Mozart!) in the Menuetto, which is simply delightful at a very brisk tempo. While the Allegro molto finale is not all that molto (it’s more of a Minuet, or perhaps a Gavotte), the lightness of touch is charming rather than vigorous. And Haydn is everywhere present as tonality alternates from Major to brief passages in Minor, and back to the sunniness of Major. One cannot help but smile all through this.
 
Beginning Disc 2, now we encounter an even stronger Beethoven influence as #3 begins with a somber Moderato. And soon an Allegro vivace takes flight, which again, isn’t all that vivace. As a matter of fact, there is a very Beethovian pastorale feel to this music. I was reminded of his 6th Symphony frequently throughout the first two movements, and the Nordic Quartet solidifies the resemblance by emphasizing the very Beethovian accents with incisive articulation. And we hear an even more predominating tunefulness, which imbues the music with an almost Schubertian melodic lyricism. And I begin to remember why I came away thinking these works were so lyrical in conception. The Scherzo then isn’t all that presto (as marked) but certainly agitato (also marked). And we now have some of the sly humor of Beethoven beginning to permeate the musicmaking - even more so in the molto Allegro finale, where I hear distinct hints of the final movement of his 4th Symphony.
 
And speaking of Beethoven symphonies, his 2nd comes to mind in the opening Allegro molto of the 4th Quartet. And I suppose I can stop making references to Beethoven at this point; my notes keep repeating the same phrase over and over: “This is Beethoven all the way!” So I’ll refrain. However, as we get into these later quartets, likely enhanced somewhat by the grand acoustic in which these were recorded, we begin to hear an almost symphonic grandeur in many passages, which keeps Beethoven always in mind. As to the rest of #4, it is enjoyable, if a bit slighter and shorter than the others (around 21 minutes). Its slow movement is replaced with a simple Andante, followed by a slightly serious Menuetto and ending with a vigorous vivace. The overall feel of the piece is just a bit darker and more robust than those preceding it.
 
In contrast, #5 is notably the most substantial of the set at over 35 minutes - the majority of it coming in the very considerable final movement. The opening Allegretto instantly returns us to the pastoral mood of #3, but more expansive this time (it’s marked tranquillo) and more symphonic in scope. And when the main Allegro takes flight, it’s nowhere near vivace (as marked) but continues to sound more symphonic in nature, again aided by the enormous acoustic. But the development shows how much Heise is progressing as a composer. There is some true joyousness infused into the dramatic vigor, which the Nordic Quartet relishes, and, well, it sounds so very much like...you-know-who. (Sorry, it’s unavoidable.) The Andantino is taken very slowly here (and I’m not entirely sure why) and is rather serious, but very moving, with the reverberation granting it even more emotional gravitas (again much like the slow movement of the Pastoral Symphony). The Scherzo is delightful and appropriately lighter, but even here there is dramatic vivaciousness to it which often reminded me of Mendelssohn (A Midsummer’s Night Dream), and even a moment anticipating the finale of Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony! This is actually pretty progressive for 1853!
 
The finale is where the real substance of the piece lies, which itself goes on for over 16 minutes. It begins Adagio, with a very operatic aria for the 1st violin, and then it’s to Mendelssohn in the Allegro energico (the Octet this time), which occupies almost the entirety of the movement. Remember before when I said this music is not easy to play, well that is certainly evident here. It’s long, strenuous and muscular. And it never lets up. The Nordic Quartet takes it in stride, bringing enormous energy to it - full of life and superbly (indeed effortlessly) played.
 
Finally the 6th - we jump ahead 4 years to 1857. This was the first of Heise’s quartets to be “rediscovered” and achieve any real exposure to an audience before now. An opening Largo sets the mood before the Allegro appassionato gets underway. If #5 was all Mendelssohn, well, #6 is, once again (you guessed it), all Beethoven. The appassionato marking in a minor key all but ensures it. And just as in the Adagio of #5’s finale, Heise again reveals his operatic roots here, and the wonderful Nordic Quartet pours on the passion without becoming too intense with it. Their rich vibrato, beautiful harmonic blend, and vibrant, soaring lines bring this music to full bloom. It is followed by a simple (almost deceptively so), songful Andantino - though it does grow with surprising emotional depth before leading to a vivacious presto 3rd movement, which itself contains an impassioned lyrical interlude, before - wait! What’s this?! - a measure or two of pizzicato! I write that with shock because it suddenly occurred to me that it is the only time in this entire body of work that Heise incorporates pizzicato into his music (other than the final "wink-wink" at the end of the 2nd Quartet).* And it’s over before one hardly registers what it was. And now that I’ve heard it, I wonder why he didn't use it more often.
 
And the finale - there is a brief almost Tchaikovskian Sostenuto leading to a vigorous, but lighter-than-expected, final Allegro molto (which here does indeed sound molto) - and it’s back to Mendelssohn we go for this final work, as Heise comes full circle in the cycle. It’s virtuosic and energetic, and filled with as much joyfulness as the minor key allows. And the Nordic Quartet brings it to a very dramatic close with a resolute, final unison G, sans vibrato. And if it’s not quite the pinnacle of achievement I was expecting, it is nonetheless as glorious as all the others - crowning a thoroughly musical and most rewarding set of string quartets. And one laments that Heise never returned to the genre before he died 20 years later.
 
After listening to this entire set twice, I conclude both times that the glorious playing of the wonderful Nordic String Quartet is a constant pleasure to listen to - and that alone caused me to never tire of listening to this music. They bring these 6 Quartets to life in a way I can’t imagine any other group accomplishing more convincingly - or lovingly. And the warm, pleasing recorded sound compliments them beautifully, despite the pronounced reverberation. But above all, it’s the glorious music from a sadly neglected composer who, like so many others, died too young, which makes this set so treasurable. Anyone who loves the string quartets of Beethoven and Mendelssohn will surely admire these by Peter Heise as well.
 
The production from Dacapo Records in Copenhagen is excellent - including, as mentioned at the top, an excellent booklet with comprehensive liner/program notes, along with a detailed track listing and recording/production information, and attractive cover art. And the works are presented in chronological order, just as they should/must be, though necessitating they be spread over 3 CDs (but advantageously priced as 2). And though it’s a minor point, I really like the single-sized 3-disc CD case it comes in, which encloses the back insert under the 3rd CD at the bottom, rather than utilizing a bigger, clunky 4-disc box; thus it is the same size as a standard CD jewel case.

Taken as a whole, this set is absolutely indispensable and certainly another contender for the “Best of the Year”. 

*It's possible there are a few passages of pizz in the bass lines from the cello in some of the slower movements; I just didn't notice it.

Here we have another invaluable release from the indefatigable Naxos label, presenting a heretofore unknown orchestra (the Minas Gerais Philharmonic Orchestra in Brazil) and their principal conductor (Fabio Mechetti) playing the music of unknown composer (at least to me) Henrique Oswald. And what discoveries these are! The playing, the music and the recorded sound are all excellent. Exactly what I would expect from Naxos. I loved this CD from beginning to end.
 
The back cover introduces it succinctly: “Henrique Oswald was perhaps the most European of Brazilian composers, having spent a large part of his life in Italy, and also absorbed influences from France and Germany.” Though it’s not specified exactly how that all came about. Reading further in the booklet, we learn he was born in Rio de Janeiro in 1852 to a Swiss father and Italian mother, and moved to Sao Paulo when he was just two, where he began to study piano. The family eventually moved to Italy, where he was immersed in that culture and exposed to French and German influences as well. He eventually accepted an appointment as Director of the National Institute of Music in Brazil, and later, professor of piano there.
 
So then, how to describe his music? It’s all of the above elements! There is the lyricism and rich harmonic foundation of Italy, with an elegant touch of French Impressionism becoming more apparent in the main symphony, especially in orchestration, and surprisingly only a vague flavor of Brazil. In fact, I would never guess this music was composed by a Brazilian. I actually hear more of a warm, slow-burning Russian fervor to it. This music is everywhere endlessly fascinating and always alluring and intriguing - melodious and harmonically expansive.
 
The program begins with the most Italian-sounding of all - a little tone poem, Elegia, which was originally written for cello and piano, but later orchestrated in 1896/7. And indeed, the cellos introduce the main theme before Oswald develops it, expanding it across various sections of the orchestra. There is a powerful, passionate and very operatic climax as the end approaches, before abruptly settling once again into a calming reprise, reintroducing the initial melody to bring it to a pp close. This reminds me a lot of the music on those “opera without words” collections. And I am hearing a truly wonderful composer at work.
 
Eager to move on, I jump ahead to the Sinfonietta, composed shortly after Elegia was orchestrated in 1897. (And I wonder why Naxos inexplicably places the Symphony of 1910 next on the CD.) I found it interesting this Sinfonietta was later reworked into a string octet just two years after it was composed. It would be fascinating to hear that some day! (Sadly I can find no recordings of it - not surprising, as this orchestral version itself is a world premiere recording.)
 
Almost instantly in the first movement (no tempo indication, but sounds allegro moderato), I hear hints of Tchaikovsky. It is richly Romantic, enriched with a melodic fervor which is Russian in flavor, but certainly Italian and Brahmsian as well. Yet there is an overriding simplicity as the music unfolds, which is wholly appropriate for a Sinfonietta, with many lighter, more articulate passages propelling it. I certainly become aware early on that Oswald is a wonderful orchestrator. And as it continues, I am reminded over and over of Brahms’ Serenades.
 
The andante con moto begins similarly, again very much like Brahms, but soon begins to sparkle with more Tchaikovsky and even some Rimsky-Korsakov. Even if you hear it a little differently than I do, this is a delightful combination. The minuetto is charming, dancing along with an athletic liveliness. And the final presto isn’t particularly vivacious, but has drama and vigor to it - again reminding me of Brahms more than any other. I notice the booklet writer makes no mention of a Brahms influence; I wonder how it can be heard as being otherwise. But never mind, this is thoroughly enjoyable, especially as played with such accomplishment and involvement - rich and colorful, with an engaging vitality.
 
The piece plays for 25 minutes, while the Symphony of 1910 goes for nearly 40. Going back to that now (as it absolutely should have come last on the CD), instantly in the opening Allegro moderato, I hear Impressionism making a more pronounced influence. I hear some Debussy and the Dukas of La Peri, and as it develops, even some of the rich harmonic expanse of Arnold Bax. The scoring is more colorful and interesting, and it’s obvious Oswald has made substantial strides in compositional creativity and orchestration skills. The Adagio then reminds me even more of La Peri - very French and even more Impressionistic. While the ensuing, relatively short (3-minute) Minuetto has a lot of Rimsky to it, certainly in the glittering orchestration, and even some hints of the Minimalism of John Adams yet to be imagined! This is a sparkling little gem which was my favorite of the entire program. Too bad it didn’t go on longer.
 
The final Allegro deciso is a call to arms by the brass over a flurry of swirling low strings. It soon blossoms into climactic passages for the entire orchestra (there’s that Italian influence again), all the while punctuated by brass fanfares. I continue to hear Rimsky-Korsakov, along with some melodramatic Tchaikovsky (The Tempest for instance) and further hints of Bax. But even as Oswald tries to lighten the mood in the central section, the threat of conflict is never far away, as the fanfare theme is ever-present, passed around among various sections of the orchestra - trumpets, to horns, to double reeds. And I really hear this as Russian more than anything, replete with some soaring string passages, gloriously played here by this excellent orchestra. I suppose this movement does outstay its thematic material a bit much before getting to the end - the movement stretches out those fanfare motifs for nearly 9 minutes. Nevertheless, I loved the piece, the entire program actually, and marvel at the unjustified neglect of this music. It certainly deserves to be heard in the concert hall.
 
Naxos tells us the Sinfonietta is a world premiere recording; however I can find no other recording of the main symphony either, making this disc even more invaluable and treasurable. Add in the glorious playing and excellent recorded sound, and this disc is a must.

After two disappointing orchestral releases this summer (from John Wilson on Chandos and, especially, Barbara Hannigan on Alpha Classics), followed by 2 that I was more than pleased with (featuring music of Mel Bonis), I was thrilled to finally get my hands on this new Stravinsky recording from JoAnn Falletta and her fabulous Buffalo Philharmonic on Naxos. For whatever reason, this was yet another CD which was particularly difficult to obtain for the longest time. When Presto Classical (in Europe) finally actually got it in stock (and at a good price, I might add), I immediately ordered it. And I’m glad I did, as I see Amazon is still listing it at an outrageously exorbitant price - which I will never understand. 
 
Fortunately, it was worth the wait and certainly betters the 4 discs noted above. The program begins with "Song of the Nightingale" (Chant du Rossignol), and later we get Divertimento from "The Fairy’s Kiss" (Le Baiser de la fee) and the Pulcinella Suite. It’s terribly disappointing we don’t get the entirety of the latter two instead of what they give us instead - The Faun and the Shepherdess - a curiously titled song cycle consisting of three songs: faun, shepherdess and the River. But they are so gloriously sung here (in Russian) by mezzo Susan Platts, that after a quick sampling, I ended up actually listening to them. I’m not usually interested in vocal items on an orchestral program, but the recorded sound and orchestral playing were so wonderful, I just let the CD keep playing. And I continued to enjoy what I heard.
 
I complain a lot about the inconsistent sound that Chandos achieves for Wilson’s Sinfonia of London, and this latest Naxos CD rather proves my point, providing yet another glorious-sounding recording from Buffalo. Naxos gets it right every time. And, realistically, it shouldn't be that hard to do (yet Chandos struggles time and again). It certainly helps that the Kleinhans Music Hall in Buffalo sounds to be one of the most luxurious orchestral halls in the world, so maybe Naxos has an advantage there. Still, the recording engineer has to be aware of what's going on, and actually pay attention and listen to the results before proclaiming it good enough and calling it a day.
 
And indeed, it’s the sound here on this Stravinsky disc which first grabs your attention, draws you in and keeps you in your seat for all of it. The next thing you notice is the absolutely glorious playing of this orchestra, especially soloistic passages from the principal players, immersing you into the musicmaking at every turn. If I can’t really point out anything particularly extraordinary about these readings as a whole, it’s the character of the orchestral involvement which is extremely satisfying. (Along with the recorded sound.) This orchestra never sounds like they’re just merely playing on autopilot. JoAnn Falletta doesn’t for an instant accept generic, anonymous, routine playing from these musicians. She makes them work at it. And you can hear that in their playing. They are fully engaged and actually sound interested in making music. This orchestra obviously adores their conductor; and as I’ve said before, which bears repeating, if ever there was a match made in musical heaven, it is this orchestra and this conductor. And complimenting it all, the excellence of the recording - the sheer presence and immediacy of the orchestra within a spacious acoustic - is exemplary. The brass don’t wimp away back in the distance (and reverb) as they so often do in London on Chandos. They play with a potent vibrancy wholly appropriate for this music (a quality disastrously restrained in Gothenburg on their recent Gershwin recording). And the dynamics expand effortlessly into the hall. Naxos gives us the very best seat in the house. (Every time.)

This is as enjoyable a Stravinsky program as you can imagine - for all the reasons I've just described. Musically, this is appropriately incisive, expansive, rich, thoroughly involving and dynamic enough to be completely satisfactory. However, this is an album of fairy tales, and Falletta never loses sight of that. She concentrates on atmospheric allure, color and descriptive story-telling above all else. And the orchestra takes it from there, delivering all the character and charisma you could ever want. The result is some of the most beguiling Stravinsky you can imagine.
 
Right away in Nightingale, the solo playing is notable. And so too are the strings. To get this many string players to play with such precision of articulation is impressive. (Again you can hear she makes them actually work at it.) And the brass principals are just as characterful as their woodwind counterparts - from trumpet, to trombone to tuba. The 3rd movement then is positively sensuous - a flirtatious flute in conversation with a truly woeful-sounding solo violin (played here with an awesome George Crumb-esque eeriness), followed by energetic, crisply articulated passages so reminiscent of Firebird.

A wonderful solo oboe announces the long final section, where Falletta is masterful in characterizing the music with such captivating story-telling, you can't possibly tear yourself away from it. And again, everywhere, one notices the playing of this orchestra as being exceptional. For instance, listen to the bassoons, followed by the trombones, and then stopped horns - how the color and characterization of their playing brings the music to life in every measure is absolutely marvelous! And when that mournful solo violin comes in again, this time with the harp plucking away in the background, Falletta creates an atmosphere of such anticipation, one continues to be drawn into it all, wondering what is going to happen next. And oh that trumpet solo near the end, so expressive and songful, reminds us this music comes from an opera. In fact, it actually reminds me of Gershwin’s opera! (Remember, I had just listened to Bennett’s Porgy and Bess Symphonic Picture on the earlier CD.) And the piece ends with the strings fading into the night…er, the expanse of the hall.
 
So how can you follow this? Yes indeed. So, yes, I was reluctant to listen to the song cycle which comes next - for more than one reason. Though, as mentioned above, I did enjoy it, I’ll leave it for others to comment on and happily move on to The Fairy’s Kiss, where we encounter a completely different soundworld. This is more than just an homage to Tchaikovsky; it is actually based on some of his short, relatively unknown piano pieces. So even with Stravinsky’s own unique orchestration, it’s much more traditionally Romantic - though not as much as Stravinsky’s own Symphony in Eb, composed when he was studying with Rimsky-Korsakov. This is still unmistakably Stravinsky.
 
After a songful introductory Andante, where Falletta invites one to come along for another fantastical story, hang on to your hat for a very fast entry of the Allegro section at the 2-minute mark. (The incisiveness of the strings at this tempo - Wow!) And this entire section reminds me over and over of Tchaikovsky's Orchestral Suites, and even 1812 in places! Falletta seems inclined to bring out as much Tchaikovsky as Stravinsky. The Dances which follow are superbly characterized and superbly colorful - again aided by the gorgeous recorded sound. What makes this really special is the articulate precision of orchestral execution within the glowing acoustic of the hall. It really is quite wonderful. And this orchestra really dances too, as Falletta relates this to Stravinsky's own ballet music, particularly Petrushka. You simply can’t help but smile ear to ear listening to this. Even the valse lilts delightfully, with that big tuba buoyantly thumping away below.
 
The Scherzo is pure Tchaikovsky in creation, adorned with pure Stravinsky in orchestration. And what a combination it is. While Falletta brings out its pastorale element beautifully in the central section. The Pas de deux Adagio again features glorious solo playing - from violin, to an especially wonderful clarinet, to cello, and a flamboyant little flute flourish, before returning to the unmistakable world of Tchaikovsky - even the exuberance of his Sleeping Beauty.
 
I know I'm gushing a bit. This is one of my favorite pieces and I can’t help but love it, especially when played with such elan. But hearing just the Divertimento makes me wish so much that the entire ballet had been played. The same can be said for Pulcinella, which comes last. It isn’t quite as magical as everything which has come before, though it is certainly well done here. But this is one instance where I welcome the vocal parts every time. They’re such an essential part of the piece, it really loses something shorn of this vital ingredient. Nonetheless, no one looking for just the suite will be left wanting for more. Falletta continues to be fabulous - energetic and jubilant; and the orchestral playing also continues to be fabulous - characterful, charming and full of life. It sounds like the full orchestra is employed, but Falletta brings a delectable lightness of touch and transparency to textures, highlighting its Baroque origins perfectly, along with all the color and enthusiasm to bring it firmly into the 20th-Century. And again, it is the precision of the string playing and the brass which are most impressive. (Have you ever heard a more macho trombone in the Vivo?! Or a more beautifully played lyrical solo in the Minuetto? What a fantastic trombone player this is.)
 
In the end, while this may not be the most boisterous or "spiky" Stravinsky you’ll ever hear, it is certainly some of the most charming. And it is thoroughly enjoyable from beginning to end. Falletta’s imaginative insight, musical sensitivity and commanding leadership of this orchestra are everywhere displayed. And I cannot emphasize enough how glorious the orchestral playing is. Add in the excellent recorded sound and an amazing total playing time of over 79 minutes, Naxos has another real winner. Yes, it was definitely worth waiting for.

That’s not necessarily a biblical quote coming from me (hardly!), but a phrase which is nonetheless apropos in this context. In my review of Trio Wanderer’s “Art Nouveau” collection of French chamber music, I loved the two miniatures by Mel Bonis (Soir/Matin) and made mention that if any composer’s music deserves a revival, it is that of Melanie Bonis. Well, that seems to have already been in the works, for here we have not one, but two collections of her orchestral works being released just within a couple of months of each other. And I acquired them both without hesitation.
 
The CPO came first, and I was surprised to discover all of Bonis’ orchestral works can fit comfortably onto just one CD - around an hours’ worth of music in all. I was expecting (and hoping for) more. Nonetheless, I was enormously satisfied with this disc - the music, the orchestral playing, the conducting and the recorded sound. (How often does that happen?!) It’s all pleasant and pleasing, and the recorded sound is glorious. But hand on heart, I wasn’t sufficiently motivated to write up a review, finding the meager body of work to lack a bit of variety and substance. So I decided to wait until the Chandos arrived and make a comparison of the two.
 
Soon enough the Chandos arrived, and, well, there’s not much to write about even that! The two discs sound virtually indistinguishable - sonically and musically. Both orchestras are warm and lustrous, realistically portrayed within a beautiful, glowing acoustic. And this surprised me - if for no other reason than I expected the Chandos, being an SACD, would sound even better than the CPO, which is a standard CD. But it doesn’t. They both sound positively sumptuous; perfectly suited to this music. Oh if I listen real hard (which I did), there are subtle differences. The Chandos is a tad closer, and more spacious and atmospheric at the same time; while the CPO is touch more sparkling and “present”, but with a flatter perspective. But the differences really are very subtle, and not significant enough to definitively determine a preference for one over the other - except, perhaps, for the most ardent audiophiles among us. (More on this below.)
 
Not only the sound, the performances are very similar as well. As are the orchestras. Both display superb characterization of the music's highly descriptive nature - fully engaged and involved in the musicmaking. It really is enheartening to hear an orchestra come alive when playing something entirely new to them. Tempos throughout are remarkably similar from the two conductors (though there are a few minor differences, of course, which I will get into below.) Blindfolded, I doubt I could identify either recording without knowing which was which. That is not to say they are in any way anonymous or lacking in character; just the opposite actually. It's to merely point out how superb both orchestras are - as are their respective conductors. I suppose it would also suggest that this music is not terribly difficult to bring off, it just is what it is, and unfolds naturally without the need for much interpretative intercession from a conductor. And even more, a testament to Bonis’ skill at orchestration and scoring that her music can sound so remarkably similar and completely satisfying from two completely different orchestras on two completely different recordings.
 
As to the program content, though the layout and ordering of the pieces differ, they are musically identical - with one tiny exception. CPO adds a very short (2:45) work for chorus and orchestra at the end, Le Ruisseau (“The Brook”). But you might notice that both discs have the same number of tracks - 16. So how can that be if the CPO has an extra piece? Well it's simple. Chandos splits up one selection into 2 tracks, while CPO combines them (the 2nd section of the Suite of Valses, which contains an Interlude and the 2nd Valse - which Chandos tracks separately). Thus Chandos (perhaps intentionally) appears to offer the exact same amount of music as CPO. But it is ultimately inconsequential. However, I do like that CPO confines all 3 vocal/choral works to the end of the program, so you can easily turn it off before they start if you want to; while Chandos inserts one soprano work unexpectedly into the middle of the program where you least expect (or want) it. 
 
Both collections begin with Bonis’ most ambitious and important work(s), Trio Femmes de Legend (literally “Three Female Legends”), comprised of three separate, fairly short, tone poems. These were originally piano works, never published in her lifetime. They were orchestrated while she was studying with Charles Koechlin in 1908/09. There was also a 4th legend in the original piano set, “Omphale”, but unfortunately they never finished scoring it. It’s a pity neither of these conductors saw fit to have it orchestrated and included here. (Maybe the manuscript has been lost?) But what we have is positively glorious. 
 
I was familiar with these 3 legends from a 2023 la dolce volta collection entitled Poetesses Symphoniques, conducted by David Reiland, which I reviewed in October 2024. I loved the music then, noting it was the standout of that entire collection. I also commented on how I heard a lot of Rimsky-Korsakov in its orchestration. And I now wonder if that was something Reiland brought out in these scores or if Bonis really had been influenced by the master. (Or had I just imagined it at the time?) 

Interestingly, the order in which they are presented on these 2 new discs differs from one another. Bastian matches Reiland, while Gamba does his own thing (for unspecified reasons). So I’ll go with how CPO has them, beginning with the longest of the three (8 minutes), “The Song of Cleopatre”. This music is seductive and heady - richly impressionistic and sumptuously scored. It occasionally brings to mind Richard Strauss and Szymanowski, adorned with colorful harmonies and resplendent orchestration. Does it sound like Rimsky-Korsakov here? Oh there is some glittering woodwind writing which brings to mind Rimsky's suite from The Invisible City of Kitezh, for instance, but the overriding flavor is of French perfumed atmospheres more reminiscent of her teacher, Koechlin, than Rimsky.
 
I thought “Ophelie” was even more Rimskian in Reiland’s hands (specifically the melodramatic brooding of Le Coq d’or suite). Now…not so much. It’s more sensual, like Salome, and certainly more impressionistic than anything Rimsky wrote. I'm not sure why I was hearing Rimsky-Korsakov in the earlier recording; maybe I just had him on my mind for some reason.
 
“Salome” is sensuous and spirited - actually more rousing than I had remembered. And the glimmers of Scheherazade I heard in the earlier reading definitely are here in Bastian’s as well. (Aha!) But then I thought Gamba brought out more of a Debussy influence. Either way, this isn’t as sensual or overtly sexual as Strauss’ famous Dance of the Seven Veils. Bonis' Salome is more sultry, provocative and seductive in the most alluring way. And the music really gathers momentum as it goes, culminating in a passionate climactic section near the end before becoming seductive again to end it. I love how this music combines rich, colorful Romanticism with rapturous atmospheres and impressionistic textures. All three pieces are unique and distinctive - expertly crafted, imaginative and creative, musically alluring, and superbly orchestrated. Bonis was apparently a quick learner during her brief time studying with Koechlin - or, more likely, was already highly accomplished in such matters and he simply helped hone her skills. 
 
Both performances here are glorious, and both orchestras are opulent with an impressionistic glow. Identifying differences between the two is difficult. Only in “Ophelie” do tempos differ at all, with Gamba adopting a slightly more flowing tempo, and Bastian just a little more leisurely - though you’d hardly even notice it without looking at the track timings (4:31 vs 5:00). But I did come away with a slight preference for Gamba overall, especially in Cleopatre, where the Scottish Symphony’s strings are just a bit more sumptuous than their WDR counterparts, and the Chandos sound a bit more atmospheric than the CPO. The combination makes the piece that last bit more alluring and intoxicating. But only just.
 
And a quick comparison with the earlier recording from Reiland reveals his readings to be very similar to both newcomers - and certainly their equal in every way. And the la dolce volta recorded sound is also excellent. Other than a touch of tubbiness (especially the drums), it is just as sumptuous as the newer ones. What a treasure trove of riches we have with 3 absolutely glorious recordings of these wonderful pieces!
 
These are Bonis' most substantial and substantive orchestral works, lasting just over 17 minutes in total. The rest of her orchestral works are essentially a series of short dances - little miniatures at which she excels, not unlike how some authors are so adept and successful at writing short stories rather than novels. Though it must be admitted this is where a certain sense of sameness in temperament, flavor and style tends to set in. There are two movements (Prelude and Danse) from Suite Orientale - which originally consisted of 3 movements for piano, violin and cello. And again, what a pity neither production took the initiative to have the 3rd one orchestrated for inclusion here. But these are certainly pleasant and interesting. Somewhat more substantial is the Suite en forme de valses (3 waltzes plus an Interlude in the middle) and Danse sacree, which was published in the same series (though it’s not a waltz). Each of these lasts 2-3 minutes, as does each of the Trois Danses - a Bourree, Pavane and Sarabande.

Again, differences between the two conductors are subtle and musically inconsequential - with the possible exception of the final scherzo-valse in the Suite of Valses, which dances more vivaciously at Gamba’s quicker tempo. Throughout, both conductors relish the colorful orchestration and find as much variety in the music as there is to be found. To my ears, both are equally effective and completely satisfying, and as noted before, there is not much of significance to choose between them.
 
And then there are the 2 vocal works thrown in for good measure for those who are interested in that kind of thing. And don’t forget the CPO concert closes with the aforementioned short choral work, which makes for a lovely conclusion to a lovely evening of music.
 
For someone looking for a single recommendation, I would be hard pressed to suggest one over the other. If you have an SACD player, then the obvious choice is the Chandos. Otherwise, I’d be just as happy with the CD from CPO and would probably buy whichever one is less expensive. For the avid collector such as myself, I had to have both. Not only was I very interested in this composer, I was very interested in comparing the two recordings. And best of all, it afforded me the opportunity to listen to this music twice. And it was equally rewarding both times.
 
In the overall scheme of things, this music may not be monumental in the history of forgotten composers, but I enjoyed it very much. I just wish there was more to it. I admire Bonis’ presumed understanding (and acceptance) of her limitations and skillset by focusing on miniature gems like these rather than trying her hand at anything overly ambitious. As this represents her entire orchestral output, I sincerely hope one (or both) of these enterprising record labels will dedicate more resources to this composer and follow up with some recordings of her chamber music in the immediate future.

“An American Dream?” Why the question mark?
 
There’s a lot to get to on this one, not least of which is why the title of the album is a question. Barbara Hannigan explains that in the booklet, which I’ll get to at the end.
 
But first I must question Hannigan’s view of Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess. She states in the booklet that she feels “the music in Porgy and Bess is absolutely magnificent”. And I wholeheartedly agree. But you’d never know that listening to this. Given that Barbara Hannigan is a singer, I wonder if she’s ever sung any of this opera. Because what she does here with Robert Russell Bennett's Symphonic Picture is bewildering. The tempos are so slow and unidiomatic, the music is rendered lifeless. After a wonderful opening section (more below), “Clara, Clara” demonstrates this is going to be a marathon in breath control for the orchestral wind players. It is very slow. As is “Summertime”, which has so little forward motion, it would be difficult to sing at this pace. And it’s not just the slow sections which are slow, even the con brio Opening Music (track 3) doesn’t really pick up the tempo enough. Oh it gets loud, but remains leaden - restrained and held firmly in check (though nicely articulate). And there's not a whiff of humor in “I Got Plenty o’ Nuttin”. (Even the bassoon doesn't sound amused playing along with a banjo.) And there’s not much playfulness in the accompanying orchestral parts - those staccato woodwinds are curiously leggiero rather than effervescent. And when the entire orchestra takes up the tune, it sounds perfunctory and listless.

After a mild hurricane, back to the dol-drums we go for “Bess You Is My Woman”, which just stalls. The Picnic Scene ("Oh, I Can't Sit Down") perks up, but doesn’t last very long. I wanted much more spirit and rhythmic buoyancy in “There’s a Boat That’s Leaving” and, especially, in "It Ain't Necessarily So", which lacks character. And the final “Oh Lord, I’m On My Way” fails to take flight at this tempo, remaining steadfastly earthbound and not the least bit life-affirming. Hannigan continues to torture these musicians, expecting them to sustain the long lines and even longer held notes. None more so than at the very end, where she leaves the poor 1st trumpet hanging on for dear life sustaining that high C# - even pulling him back to p no less(!) - while she drags this out to hammer home those 2 ff g-natural chords, until the tension is unbearable (and we’re literally fearing for the trumpet player’s life), and a rather weak (exhausted?) crescendo culminates in a dropping glissando down to the final “bomp” to finally end it.1 (And through it all, I must say this trumpet player is fantastic.)

Surely I’m exaggerating, you may be thinking. Well, to illustrate just how slow this is, let’s take a look at the timing and make some comparisons. The average playing time on CD for this piece is around 24 minutes. Dorati/Detroit and Dutoit/Montreal (both on Decca), and Mata/Dallas (on RCA) are my benchmarks - and oh how sensational they are. While Edo De Waart (1970/Philips), the slowest reading I can ever remember, takes just over 25 minutes - as does Ormandy in his rather leisurely 1967 reading on CBS (though he brings such picturesque characterization to it, it doesn’t feel slow). But Hannigan here takes a whopping 30 minutes! Good lord! - it goes on forever!
 
But it's not just the tempos. It’s the lack of flair and rhythmic vitality so essential in this music. And, too, it’s the overall sound. Either Hannigan or the recording engineer has decided that the Gothenburg Symphony should not sound at all like a bright, brassy American orchestra. This is an unusually dark, rounded, somewhat confined sound - beyond golden, more of a molten chocolate. Maybe Hannigan is trying to recreate choral/vocal music in this orchestral arrangement. And while I could possibly understand such an approach, she misses Gershwin's distinctive, idiomatic orchestral energy so important in the opera (and so faithfully preserved in Bennett's score). Whatever her reason, it doesn’t work very well in this music. 

And it’s such a shame; it begins with such promise. In the opening segment (“Catfish Row”), Hannigan creates a wonderfully atmospheric mood - intriguing and sensuous, full of anticipation - not rushed in the slightest, but not lethargic either. The English Horn solo is positively exquisite. I don’t ever remember hearing such a gorgeously wooden sound from the instrument on record before. It is followed by a resplendent, airy, radiant flute singing high above silky strings. And I’m thinking, oh this orchestra is wonderful and this is going to be glorious. But soon after the plaintive trumpet's song and distant wailing saxophone have faded into the night, something happens. The sound darkens, tempos grow lethargic, and the musicmaking wanes. For all of Hannigan’s comments about America in the booklet (which I promise I will get to soon enough), this sounds about as far removed from “American” - let alone black America - as you can get. 

Copland’s Dance Symphony, which comes next on the program, is much better - sonically and musically. The sound is more open, with an airier acoustic and more transparent textures; and the orchestra sounds more alive and dynamic. (Listen to the potent bass drum in the finale!) It’s not quite state of the art though - there is still a bit of closed-in darkness to the sound. But it is a noticeable improvement over the Gershwin. The booklet is no help in explaining why that might be, merely a simple statement: “Recorded in November 2025.” These were obviously taped at different sessions, and we can only assume that some adjustments were deemed necessary after the Gershwin. All for the better.2
 
But even more than the sound, Hannigan is more engaging here as well. Though as good as this is, she can’t match Dorati in Detroit (Decca, 1981) by any measure, or even John Wilson with the BBC Philharmonic (Chandos, 2018). This is due in part to the spectacular sound from those record labels that Alpha Classics can’t quite match; but also, again, with Hannigan’s propensity for sluggish tempos. While not nearly as lethargic as Porgy, she still takes well over 3 minutes longer in this than either Dorati or Wilson (both spot-on at exactly 17 minutes, while Hannigan takes nearly 21 - much of that occurring in the Andante second movement). The 1st movement is about a minute slower, and could ideally use a bit more momentum, but she builds it with good intensity. The Andante then is more of an Adagio - nearly 3 minutes slower than either alternative - and there's no real musical justification for it. I suppose it would be OK, but it actually loses some of its intoxicating, mesmerizing atmosphere at this languid tempo. The final Allegro vivo is not as incisively biting as either Dorati or Wilson, though her tempo is just fine. However, there is a memorable moment in the central meno mosso section (at about 2:30), where Copland sounds a little drunk with all those little glissandos, first heard in the violas and cellos. And Hannigan, ingeniously, has her violins answer them with positively flirtatious glissandos - just as coy and coquettish as you please. Utterly charming! But then, I wish she had generated more vivo and sheer energy in the final section through to the end. Nonetheless, Hannigan does a very good job overall with this piece, leaving one wondering why this engaging musical involvement didn’t carry over to the Gershwin.   
 
Next up is a curious choice, The Carousel Waltz by Richard Rodgers. Essentially a medley of familiar tunes from the musical, this is actually the Overture to the film version, arranged by Don Walker. The orchestra seems to be enjoying themselves, especially the sweeping strings waltzing away those glorious tunes. But even here, the tempo is a bit sluggish and there is a strait-laced, buttoned-down refinement to it. How I wish they would just let loose with some uninhibited exuberance! But Hannigan will have none of that. The sound continues to be good, though a slight overall darkness persists. And this seems oddly out of place here after the Copland symphony.
 
Unfortunately, Hannigan ends the concert with something even more out of place, featuring herself as vocalist in the “world premiere” of Bill Elliott’s suite, At the Fair for soprano and orchestra. I personally don’t enjoy vocals on an orchestral concert in any circumstances, and found this particularly unappealing - musically and vocally. While the 2nd of its 3 sections is purely orchestral, it’s very short (just 2-1/2 minutes) and just plain silly. The other 2 sections consist of cutesy, musical-style vocals (i.e. not operatic) which really have no place on an orchestra concert. This suite takes up 12 minutes of the program; but with a total playing time of 71 minutes on this CD, I can do without it and not feel too shortchanged. But still, why is it included here at all?
 
Now as to the album title…
 
In the opening paragraph of her liner notes in the booklet, Ms. Hannigan expresses heartfelt sentiments about what she sees happening in America now, questioning whether the elusive "American dream" can be achieved in today's divisive environment. Hence the question mark. She goes on to say this was the inspiration for putting together this album. It's well stated (and worth reading) and her observations are spot on. However, I’m not sure adding a question mark to the title of this album helps make the point. I mean, no one will know what that “?” means unless they buy the CD and read her program notes. But maybe that’s the intention. In any case, I admire Hannigan for her bold commentary. On an album with a Canadian conductor, a Swedish Orchestra and a French production label, this certainly bears out her statement that what's happening in America has "international repercussions". Indeed.

Overall this program is something of a grab bag. With an opera suite and a musical overture surrounding a Copland symphony - it just seems a little odd from a programming perspective.3 However, since the Copland is unquestionably the highlight of the program, I wouldn't want to be without it. And I remain perplexed why the musicmaking is so uninvolving in the Gershwin. Hannigan says she thinks this music is magnificent but then proceeds to smother the life out of it. I just don't get it.

1 I realize this ending is marked grandioso, but when the whole thing is played that way, there's nowhere left to go to make it more grandiose.
2 There are a couple of YouTube videos of Hannigan conducting some of this music in concert, but those were in September, 2 months before the CD recording was made. The booklet confirms the dates and makes no mention of these being "live" recordings. 
3 And the somewhat lighthearted nature of the program, especially with the musical stuff thrown in there after the Copland, seems a bit odd considering the seriousness of Hannigan's comments about America in the booklet. 

​“God it's just so boring."

That was my conclusion after listening to John Wilson and company sightread their way through the majority of this program of light pops fare. Beginning with The Sorcerer’s Apprentice - which is quick, slick, and superficial. I had such high hopes for this! But Wilson skates over the surface in his rush to get through it, with little characterization of what’s going on, or even the slightest character in the playing. They’re just sight-reading this, and Wilson aimlessly flailing his arms around up there (as can be seen on the YouTube video of the recording session) doesn't seem very productive.

And then there’s the sound. Remember last time I wrote about Chandos and how they can’t manage to produce consistently good sound for this orchestra? Well, they’ve let us down again on this one. Chandos has recorded the orchestra at a distance, somewhat indistinct, and then made matters worse by transferring it to disc at a very low level. Even with the volume turned way up, the orchestra curiously lacks the impact and "you are there" immediacy of the best recordings. And just as we’ve witnessed before, when Chandos doesn’t knock it out of the park with great sound, Wilson falls flat as a pancake. And that’s exactly what happens here. As is so often the case, Wilson sounds detached and disinterested, without the slightest spark of involvement or characterization; and the orchestra even more so, just managing to get in all the notes at this speed. So many little details are lost in the rush* - and climaxes come and go without event. So don’t expect much spectacle in the buildup to the pause there in the middle (where Wilson exasperatingly keeps holding them back), or a sense of calamity at the end. It’s all just as routine as sightreading gets. Though I suppose if you want your sorcerer fast and over with in a jiffy, you might like this. But if you want something spellbinding, or a bit magical, you'll be left just as I was - thinking it's just so boring. 
 
Next, Clair de lune is played in Wilson’s own arrangement, which is pleasant enough but nothing special. It’s actually a bit amateurish in the way he constantly breaks up the lines mid-phrase, tossing them around back and forth from woodwinds to strings and then back again - which I found distracting. How I longed for just one phrase to unfold naturally. And all the left-hand filigree and arpeggiated figures of the piano original go completely unrealized, disregarded as unimportant, relegated to the poor harp, whose faint tinkling somewhere in the back goes virtually unnoticed. But the violins are smooth and silky, which is lovely to hear.

The program picks up nicely with Chabrier’s vivacious Joyeuse Marche. The orchestra is clearly having fun with it (especially the rambunctious horns!) and displays real character in their playing. The dynamic range is better too - though the sound still recesses and loses immediacy in soft passages. But much to my surprise, it's Ravel’s Une Barque sur l’ocean (not one of my favorite Ravel orchestrations) which is unquestionably the most musically rewarding item on the program. Wilson has recorded a lot of Ravel over the years, some of it good, some of it not, but he finds real affinity with this little piece, displaying a musical involvement and dynamic engagement missing elsewhere. And Chandos provides wonderfully atmospheric sound for this, better focused and more present than some of the rest. (All the works on this disc were recorded at different sessions.)
 
But then, Danse Macabre, which should be right up Wilson’s alley, is again adversely affected by the low transfer level and distant perspective. And surprisingly, John Mills’ sappy violin solos don’t help. He plays with a voluptuousness more suited to Rachmaninoff than this - though Saint-Saens indicates it to be played largamento, so I'll give him that. And a little later, there are a couple of passages where we hear some weird undulating gestures from the strings which caught my attention. Consulting the score, I was surprised to find some justification for it, so hats off to Wilson for doing something special with those peculiar markings I hadn't noticed before. The final minutes generate plenty of adrenaline and sense of menace - with the splendid horn section leading the way. If only the recorded sound had been more present and dynamic, this might have made more of an impact.
 
As for Carmen, which closes the program, all 35 minutes of it, I’m not even going there. I mean, who needs or wants yet another orchestral arrangement of this? I heard just enough of the opening Toreadors (which comes thundering in after the ghostly ending of Macabre has faded away) to hear Wilson take off at breakneck speed with all the finesse of a runaway freight train. And the recording is a bit more potent as well. And...I just couldn’t bring myself to listen to it. It takes up over half the total playing time of this program, so if you're hankering for a rip-roarin' Carmen suite, then this disc is definitely for you. I personally would much rather listen to a good highlights disc of the actual opera instead. But that’s just me.

All in all, this release is something of a mixed bag - from the sound to the musicmaking. One cannot overlook the fact that, as mentioned above, each of these pieces was recorded at different sessions (from 2023-2025), presumably when something quick and easy was needed to finish off a recording session when there were a few extra minutes left. And here we have them all gathered together for this album. The sessions utilized two different producers and two different “leaders” (concertmasters); and, this being a pickup/session ensemble, likely different players comprising the orchestra itself. The sound engineer (Ralph Couzens) was the one constant in all the sessions. And that explains a lot about what we hear throughout the program. 
 
And it's a shame, really; I really wanted to like this album. This is stuff Wilson should be good at. Or more accurately, this is stuff Couzens should be good at. But it is the sound which lets Wilson down when he literally needed all the help he could get. I mean, we expect these freelance musicians to just read through this fluff without much involvement. And that’s exactly what it sounds like. But Chandos could at least provide spectacular sound for it, especially given the repertoire. But we don’t even get that.  

I won’t belabor the point. If you just love your John Wilson no matter what, you probably won’t read much of this review anyway. So I’ll just leave it at this…if you absolutely must have John Wilson’s latest release, then by all means get it, turn it way up (it needs it), and enjoy it - perhaps while dusting or cooking dinner.  

*For instance, where are the clarinets in their syncopated "offbeats" at Fig. 15? And the cellos at Fig. 35 - and again later just after Fig. 47? And the whirling woodwinds at the penultimate climax at Fig. 52, lost in the flurry? (These are just a few examples I noted.)   

​Berg and Webern probably wouldn’t have enticed me to buy this CD, but the inclusion of Schulhoff’s Five Pieces did. So reading my headline there, you might be wondering why I left Schulhoff out. Well, that was intentional; and there’s a reason for it. As it turns out, ironically, it is the Berg and Webern that made me love (no, adore) the Leonkoro Quartet and this album from Alpha Classics; while their Schulhoff left me more than a little annoyed. Go figure.
 
The Leonkoro Quartet was founded in Berlin in 2019, anchored by brothers on 1st violin and cello. This is their second recording; I have not heard their first (an unusual combination of Ravel and Schumann's 3rd on Mirare) as it is inexplicably unavailable on CD, being an MP3 download only. (One wonders why.)

The group plays standing up (except for the cello, of course) and that extrovert, emotional exuberance comes through in their playing. Their Berg and Webern are positively infused with richness - illuminating the rich harmonic and melodic structure with playing which is rich and full-bodied, adorned with expressive singing lines and voluptuous vibrato. And it works beautifully, bringing affectionate warmth and lushness - and even an alluring sensuousness - to these scores that I wasn't expecting. But something happened in the Schulhoff. They simply don’t bring the same thoughtful insight and endearing affection to it as with the other works on the program. For some reason, they whisk it away in a frenzy, trying for all the world to get through it as fast as their little fingers can possibly go. And I simply don’t understand why, especially after the heartfelt emotional outpouring in all the rest. 
 
But before we get there, they begin the program with something utterly fantastic - and fantastically played - Berg’s fantastical Lyric Suite from 1926. I wasn’t overly familiar with the piece, though I have a few recordings of it on my shelves. Still, I never considered it particularly memorable, let alone groundbreaking. Until now. Hearing the superb Leonkoro Quartet play it, it is revealed to be so innovative and ahead of its time, it truly is groundbreaking. And very memorable in this performance of it. The Leonkoro uncover endless color and variety of moods in the music, with a myriad of otherworldly atmospheres and atmospheric effects I would never have expected in 1926. Indeed this looks forward to the Ligeti of 1954 (his 1st string quartet), especially in the misterioso (3rd movement) and presto (5th). But even more, it is everywhere perfumed with the harmonic soundworld and colorful atmosphere Dutilleux would create in his Ainsi la nuit some 50 years in the future, with its amazing orchestration and ingenious use of musical string effects. It simply boggles the mind that just 4 string instruments can make all the sounds we hear, which are positively orchestral in scope and range. Berg - yes Berg - it seems, is perhaps the granddaddy of avant-garde effects. (But more on this below.) And yet he incorporates them so effectively into the musical fabric, one hardly notices them in the same way one encounters in Ligeti (not to mention Penderecki!). And one certainly isn’t put off by it here, especially as played with such rapturous ecstasy as heard on this recording.
 
The piece is more expansive than I had remembered, with 6 contrasting movements lasting nearly 30 minutes. (Indeed, it occupies nearly half of the total playing time on this CD.) However, comparing it to my previous favorite recording of the piece (played by the Novus Quartet on the fantastic Aparte label), the Leonkoro are slightly quicker in all 6 movements, from a few seconds in the livelier sections, to as much as a full minute each in the adagio and the largo - all to the benefit of the music.
 
But what makes the piece come to life so memorably here is in the way the Leonkoro characterizes each movement so vividly. Each section is evocative and distinctive, with playing of extraordinary variety of articulation, dynamics, color and tempo - and most of all in the contrasts of emotion and mood indicated in their individual titles: jovial - full of energy and exuberance, tempered with a bit of rapturous intensity to it; amorous - hesitant and slightly guarded at first, before finally allowing some self-conscious affection; misterioso is just that, with all those amazing pizzicato and bouncing bow effects. Then the adagio - oh my goodness, the passion of it! - with all the intimacy which was curiously held back before in amorous. Followed next by a presto delirando, which is as delirious as you could ever imagine it sounding. (How do you make a piece of music sound “delirious”? Well, the Leonkoro most certainly do it.) The finale (desolato) is based on a poem which reads in part, “from the depths of the dark abyss where my heart has fallen.” That’s pretty deep, and that’s exactly the mood that's created here. You can hear real anguish in the tone, vibrato, and intensity of expression in their playing, including a brief climax at about the 4-minute mark which is overwhelmingly passionate in its despair. Amazing.
 
Fortunately, the recorded sound is well nigh ideal. The group is presented at a perfect perspective, set back at a slight distance - just enough to allow air and spaciousness to surround the musicians - yet afforded superb immediacy and presence within an atmospheric acoustic, all of which compliments the music beautifully.
 
And now comes Schulhoff’s Five Pieces, which was the initial attraction for me. They start alarmingly fast in the opening, but then slow it right down a few measures in, as if suddenly realizing … oh wait, this is a valse. And they actually manage to find some charm in the rest of it. And the Serenata has character and intrigue, though perhaps a little too fast for my liking, but certainly within the realm of reason. But then they take off like an Olympic sprinter in the Czeca - lightweight and impossibly breathless - not like how we normally hear it. The Tango, then, is just fine; but being the longest piece of the five, it now seems disproportionately extra-long in comparison after racing through the Czeca in 90 seconds flat. Finally, the Tarantella takes off like the flight of the bumblebee swarmed by homicidal hornets. The music is a whirlwind - no, a tornado - at this speed, rather than a musical Tarantella. They shave off about 30 seconds from the average reading (which is a lot for a movement lasting under 3 minutes), and even 20 seconds off the fastest other one I have heard (the very exciting recording from the Prezioso Quartet). It is simply absurd and seemingly out of character for this group. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again and again and again - just because you CAN play something that fast, doesn’t mean you SHOULD. And this is a case in point. Making matters worse, there is an ill-focused graininess to the recorded sound here which I hadn’t noticed in the Berg, making it sound just awful, especially in the finale. I can't imagine what went wrong here.
 
Fortunately, excellence returns for Webern’s Five Movements (Opus 5). I was shocked to learn this was composed as early as 1909; it sounds even more avant-garde than Berg in 1926! So I stand corrected; it’s actually Webern who is the granddaddy of them all (though I have not heard Berg’s 1st String Quartet, also from 1909, so I reserve judgement on that). The booklet describes this piece as “using a freely atonal style”; and while that is certainly true, I hear melodic motifs and enough harmoniousness to make one think it’s more tonal than it really is. Much of this can be attributed to the gorgeous blend and sweetly singing playing of the Leonkoro Quartet. Even more than in the Berg, they infuse this music with drama, passion and voluptuousness in all the right moments, making it more appealing and alluring than I would have ever expected from Webern. The fascination and wonder of innovative sound effects permeate the music - but surrounding all those sounds with such singing expressiveness, makes it all surprisingly seductive. And it is helped in this regard by the recording, which returns us to the sumptuousness and lush acoustic we heard in the Berg. The coarse-textured, ill-focused grit in the Schulhoff is largely gone here.  
 
The first movement (“deeply/intensely moving”) is instantly much more avant-garde in sound after the pleasingly innocuous Schulhoff, but surrounded by enraptured lyrical interludes, ravishingly played here. Compared to the Berg, the overall sound is spikier, more crisply articulate, with more unusual (and fascinating) string effects sprinkled throughout. But the endearing lyricism of the playing is the most salient characteristic, which is remarkable in this kind of music. The second (“very slow”) is desolate and otherworldly, with plaintive, almost whimpering con sordini solos passed among the inner voices. Next is a 40-second scherzo which whisks away in a flash, and is over in a flash. It came and went so quickly, I immediately wanted more of it; it hardly constitutes a “movement” - Ha! It is followed instantly by a return to the out-of-this-world atmosphere in another “slow” section, with avant-garde effects jotting around its orbit.
 
A lonely cello announces the finale (“gentle/delicate movement”) accompanied by midrange harmonics in the others, before striking up a reticent dialog with the 1st violin. Icy sul pont exclamations interrupt their conversation before returning to the quietude of a remote, otherworldly landscape. God I just love this stuff (much the same as I love Ligeti's Quartets). It is mesmerizing, entrancing and totally captivating as played here by the absolutely incredible Leonkoro Quartet.
 
After this, Webern’s Langsamer Satz, written 4 years earlier, is a bit of a letdown to end the program. Coming right after the gentle, gossamer mists of otherworldly atmospheres, we suddenly hear Brahms! And what a jolt it is. I almost wish it hadn’t been included at all, though it might have worked better immediately after the Schulhoff. But once the ear (and mindset) adjusts, it is pleasant, certainly, and the tempo feels just about perfect for it - a bit slower than some, but beneficially a little quicker than many others. The Leonkoro keep it moving along without overindulgent Romanticism - with just enough heartfelt emotion to allow their sweetly singing lines to blossom and propel it. This is certainly not what I expect to hear when I think of Webern, but taken on its own, it is amiable and rather beautiful - and astonishingly different from what he was writing just 4 years later. I like the way he began evolving as a composer, moving far, far away from Brahms. I mean, we have Brahms for that.  
 
You’ll have to indulge my enthusiasm and newfound passion for this music with which I was not terribly familiar. Yes, I’ve heard it all before, but never before like this. The Leonkoro Quartet's playing of this music has made a profound effect on me - making it sound so completely new, and yet so familiar, I’m literally hearing it as if for the first time - with a sense of new discovery.  
 
When considering this group’s playing of the program as a whole, despite the frenetic fast sections of the Schulhoff, their lyrical beauty and musical insight demonstrate magnificent string quartet playing. This group exhibits a rather unique and completely fascinating combination of voluptuousness and exquisiteness which is simply enthralling. This release is thoroughly rewarding and treasurable, not only for the music, but for truly extraordinary musical insight and outstanding playing. And with equally excellent production values from Alpha Classics, this disc is absolutely indispensable for all lovers of modern string quartet music.

Here’s another album of new music with an “arty” title which is becoming so commonplace on Classical releases these days. This one is adorned with “Undreamed Shores” - and I wondered, what does that even mean? I was to discover it was taken from the title of one of the works presented on this album. Okay fine.
 
The Jupiter String Quartet is an excellent American string quartet which I have encountered before, on 2 previous albums on the Marquis label. One was an unusual coupling from 2020 which pairs Beethoven’s Opus 131 with Ligeti’s 1st Quartet. The Beethoven is fine, nothing particularly distinctive or special, and their Ligeti is well played certainly, but lacking the last bit of dynamic extremes and stunning astonishment which inform the very best performances. (Though I remember some sections exhibiting a coquettish quality not normally associated with Ligeti, which was memorable.) The other album, a year earlier, was even better, featuring all new music showcasing an American composer I really like, Pierre Jalbert (a new Piano Quintet and his earlier Piano Quartet), and less notable works from 2 other composers. The entire program was extremely well played and recorded.
 
This new album finds them switching from Marquis to Orchid, and it too features all new music - all written especially for the Jupiter Quartet over the past decade or so. I had not heard of these 3 composers before and wasn’t real sure what to expect. Happily, this new music is not just the typical noise (er, I suppose I should say “sound”) which passes for a lot of new string quartet ”music”. For the most part, these pieces are harmonic, if not necessarily melodious; somewhat tonal, though at all times exploratory; and, simply put, real music, rather than just senseless sound effects.
 
But before going into more detail about the music, a quick word about the ensemble. I noticed on their website that the Jupiter Quartet has announced they have a new 1st violinist. They seem excited about it, but I admit being disappointed. The 1st violinist appearing on this current CD is Nelson Lee, an original founding member who had played with them for 24 years. Curious about the timing on this, I noticed this 2026 CD release was actually recorded in September 2024, just before Lee left the group. Lucky for us! His rich tone and sweetly singing lines are a pleasure to hear and his playing enhances everything on this album. As to the remaining members, it’s interesting to note that the 2nd violin and viola are sisters, one of whom is married to the cellist. So it is definitely a family affair; but with a new 1st violin now.
 
As to the music, the Jupiter Quartet had the foresight to begin the program with an absolutely wonderful, and wonderfully original, work by Michi Wiancko - "To Unpathed Waters, Undreamed Shores". Ah…so that’s where the album title came from. The work is laid out in 7 rather short movements (roughly 1 to 5 minutes each), each given "artful" titles of their own. From the very first notes, I’m struck by the luscious acoustic captured so beautifully by the recording engineer, and the lushness of the sound of this wonderful quartet - individually and as a group. The opening (Pelagic ["the sea"] Within) is a determined thematic statement, followed by an intimacy which invites the listener to stay along to experience something wonderful. The music soon becomes delectably atmospheric, with soft, fleshy pizzicato and gentle strumming, eventually developing into unmistakable elements of Minimalism, with recurring, insistent rhythmic pulses and snippets of melodic thematic material. I also hear some interesting string effects emerging from the musical fabric, adding color and fascination to the atmospheric tapestry.1 It’s all very delicate and mesmerizing, and builds in intensity until stopped short by an abrupt pause just before the second movement begins. And I realize I’m hearing something special - not just the originality and imaginative creativity of the music, but great string quartet playing and a great recording. What a rare combination to behold. And it is simply glorious.
 
Part II (Dream of the Xerces Blue) has a restless rhythmic energy underlying more melodious invention, with both solo lines and duet combinations. It also introduces a few more interesting string effects, captivating the listener with atmospheric sounds - from bouncing bows and subtle glissandos, to faint sighs and bird-like whistles way up high on harmonics. Oh my goodness this is spellbinding - and the recording, amazingly, remains superbly “present” and perfectly focused, allowing every detail to register, even at the softest ppp. While in III (Central Park Microbial), the effects are even more prominent, but now more wooden in sound (rather than stringy), with lots of col legno and gentle knocking of knuckles on the wooden bodies over a rhythmic strumming effect. While a pizzicato cello keeps the pace, even allowing a bit of scratching to creep in at one point (fortunatly not too much). There is an eerie, otherworldly tune of sorts from a delirious (or perhaps drunken) violin which simply fascinates the imagination. And with all its strangeness, there is an underlying, insistent, rhythmic pulse which propels it. Absolutely amazing writing and scoring.
 
IV is an unexpected, out-of-nowhere change to complete atonality and deliberate dissonance. It’s coarsely bowed and comparatively noisy for no apparent musical reason. Its title, “Invisible Eviction”, is no help in understanding it. I hoped this wouldn’t last long, and mercifully, it doesn’t - exactly 57 seconds actually. And with that out of the way, V (Crying, Together) is completely different and Wiancko returns to pleasantries. It is a freeform melodic outpouring played by the entire group in unison, in multiple octaves. It leads naturally into section VI (Follow the Water), which is even more lyrical and airy, with undulating viola filigree underlying the melodic expression - where at one point, the 1st violin is so enraptured with it, he takes the tune soaring heavenward into the highest register. Simply exquisite. There is a refreshing feel of the breezy, American outdoors to this as well. Ah…sheer loveliness. The finale (Rise Up) then returns to more minimalistic origins, with rhythmic elements underlying a tuneful solo line passed among the players. The tension builds until a pause gives way to an extended rhythmic pizzicato passage followed by rolling, articulated sul pont effects. And the piece just ends, very simply, with a plaintive viola (or perhaps cello) fading into a calming quietude. And I sit back in silence, and think, what a wonderful experience this was. 
 
Sometimes a new piece of music speaks to me in such a way that I just can’t wait to write about it. And that’s exactly what happened after listening to this inspiring work by Michi Wiancko. Moreover, it receives the strongest possible advocacy from the fantastic Jupiter Quartet, complimented by superb recorded sound. The piece requires one’s undivided attention, as if listening attentively to a live concert, and in turn, rewards you with an extraordinary, enthralling experience. It is rare that I hear a new piece of music that I actually want to listen to again; this is definitely one of them.
 
But now - how can anything follow this? It’s like after watching a wonderful movie and then faced with a decision - do we just call it a night or actually try to find something worth watching on Netflix? Ha! Of course that’s an apples and oranges comparison to this, but there is a similar feeling that the remaining pieces on this program will inevitably struggle to measure up. So I decided to call it a day and come back later to listen to the rest - starting with Stephen Andrew Taylor’s Chaconne/Labyrinth.
 
I wasn’t really looking forward to listening to a new single-movement piece lasting nearly 20 minutes. And I was especially apprehensive after reading that this composer experiments with live electronics and improvisation. But fortunately, none of these hesitations proved founded. The piece opens somberly, gloriously melodious and rather traditionally harmonious, but creates a disquieting unease, before moving forward with a dramatic change of tempo and mood at the 3-minute mark. Skittish at first, it becomes more obviously “modern”, veering farther away from tonality as it progresses. The momentum calms, and another tune, this time on the viola, tugs on the heartstrings. Taylor eventually begins to introduce some unusual effects - some quarter-tone “pitch-stretching” at first, hinting at the electronic music he’s been involved with. There is a quite lovely, heartfelt melody on the 1st violin which grows emotional (and intentionally out of tune at one point), leading to a scurrying bustle which perks us up with an interesting variety of mood, including a very rhythmic burst of energy. It is interrupted by a deliberately out of tune melody, tossing around, back-and-forth, but gives way to a continuation of the rhythmic outburst at about the 10-minute mark, where Taylor gets quite “modern” and experimental indeed - with lots of strange effects (exaggerated glissandos and the like), and music which is even more rhythmically propulsive and insistent.
 
There is an extended interlude, a somewhat desolate landscape, with more approximation of pitches stretching and upsetting an attempt at melody (much of which is a series of scales, ingeniously incorporated), before another scherzando takes off on a brief excursion. Taylor begins to build the tension until we crave relief from it, and a melancholy cello provides it just in time, with a plaintive little solo which is lovely indeed. And the piece draws to a close with a hesitant, and hesitating, harmonious chorale, recalling the apprehension and anticipation of the beginning, culminating in tremolos which finally resolve to a glorious A-Major chord crescendoing to the end. I again find myself sitting back, taking it all in, and thinking what another wonderful experience this was.
 
Fascinating; and fascinatingly different from the previous work. I enjoyed it very much - not least for its intriguing and somewhat unusual sound effects, which are musical intricacies and variances rather than mere "sounds". Taylor’s use of what I call “pitch-stretching” (it’s not exactly quite as precise as quarter-tones, more like elongated/prolonged mini-portamentos) is really quite interesting and unique, and the Jupiter Quartet makes the most of it. In fact, I cannot emphasize enough how much the superb playing of the Jupiter Quartet, along with the superbly atmospheric recorded sound, contribute to making this piece what it is. So for something intriguingly different, yet not so unusual to be weird, this piece is inviting and captivating - even somehow vaguely familiar in its determined attempts at harmoniousness and tonality. It's atonal without trying to be...if that makes sense.
 
So finally we come to String Quartet #2, “Imprimatur”, by Kati Agocs. I had to look up the word “imprimatur” (again thinking, what does that even mean?) and learned it has something to do with the Catholic church’s approval to print a text. Mmkay... The booklet tries to help, stating it can also mean a mark of distinction or an imprint. (That’s getting better.) While the composer, in her own program note, takes it to a seemingly unrelated meaning altogether, completely out of context: “a single idea imprints itself upon the memory through rapturous re-imagination”. Ok! The individual movements are given cryptic subtitles as well - none of which helps us understand what she's trying to convey in the music. Making matters worse, though they are listed in the booklet, they are not separately tracked on the CD. The entire piece is inexplicably contained within just one track lasting 15 minutes, which is a real pity. I found it difficult to relate the movement titles to the correct passages of music, despite occasional pauses along the way. But I tried.
 
The piece starts with an inauspicious recitative - a stern proclamation of what might be a main theme, interrupted by passages determined to be unappealingly atonal for no discernable reason or musical purpose. Fortunately that’s over in about a minute and the Ostinato is instantly, mercifully, much more attractive. It is rhythmic and somewhat hesitant, followed by a lyrical passage (“Enraptured Troping” - don’t ask me) and then a meditation of sorts (“Crystal Chains”), which again tries to be deliberately atonal and I’m not sure why. It is at once pleasant then unnecessarily dissonant. Finally, around the 9-minute mark, a “Wild Dance” comes stomping in with an unhappy viola over agitated snap-pizzs in the cello. Now this is more like it! It features atonal chordal rhythms interspersed with some open fifths, giving it an uncultured, somewhat gypsy flavor. (Ravel’s Tzigane came to mind a time or two here.) The stomping comes to an abrupt stop for the “Quodlibet” (again - don’t ask me), where we have icy tremolos (sort of sul pont, but not quite) before a lovely duet in 1st violin and viola sings over a restless arpeggiated cello. Interestingly, though the stomping has stopped, this continues to dance, more seductively now, replete with singing lines. This is rhapsodic and sensual and surely the highlight of the entire piece. The coda takes us to the end, rather pleasantly I might add, leaving me with a more satisfying impression of the piece than I had expected.
 
I enjoyed the 3 works from most to least in exactly the order in which they appear on this CD. Even though the last one by Agocs is not as gratifying (or memorable) as the other two, the Jupiter Quartet must think the world of it, as they state in the booklet that they have returned to it over multiple seasons.2 All in all, this entire program is captivating, rewarding and musically enriching. And with such wonderful playing and recorded sound, this disc simply must be heard.
 
1 Michi Wiancko is, herself, a violinist, so she knows exactly how to create these sounds and incorporate them into the musical fabric with maximum effectiveness.
2 And it is growing on me more after another time or two.

I was enticed by this album’s alluring title, which has more relevance and meaning than many seen on Classical albums these days. This one makes sense, so it works - and I welcomed it.

After this group’s Beethoven set impressed me as being somewhat lacking in personality, I was curious to hear them do something different. So a collection of American quartets seemed to be just the ticket. But why did it have to be Barber? Oh it’s just fine; much like their Beethoven. But did we really need yet another recording of it? To their credit, it is certainly more distinguished and stylistically appropriate than the stagnant one from the Miro Quartet on Pentatone a couple years ago. The opening appassionato may lack a little drama, but it is played with fervor where the Miros were curiously detached. And while the Adagio is traditionally paced, they get through it more than 2 minutes quicker than the Miros do. (Good god, what an excruciatingly dreary, lethargic, absolutely funereal rendering that was on Pentatone.) So the Calidore are definitely in a higher category - but it’s still the Barber Quartet. Wasn’t there any other American string quartet they could have chosen instead? (I can think of half a dozen right off the top of my head which would have been infinitely more rewarding and valuable.) Fortunately, the remainder of the program is much more imaginative and interesting.
 
Next we have some excerpts from Wynton Marsalis’ At the Octoroon Balls (aka his 1st String Quartet), which is refreshingly different. Jazzy and bluesy, almost improvisational at times, in the opening "Creole Contradanzas", then switching gears in "Many Gone" - an expressive, emotional interlude evoking the lament of African American spirituals, featuring the cello prominently in extended solo passages, wondrously played here by cellist Estelle Choi. Then hold on for “Hellbound Highball”, which serves as a makeshift finale. It is an enormously fun, energetic escapade depicting an unstoppable locomotive charging ahead at full steam - though Marsalis ingeniously tries to stop it (musically) a few times along the way. The Calidore are fabulous in this music, with enough flair and rhythmic freedom to be entirely convincing (and thoroughly entertaining) without going overboard with it. Unfortunately, they play just 3 of the 7 movements from the full work - although that seems to be just about the right amount of this kind of thing, as each is quite lengthy, totaling over 22 minutes in all. Nonetheless, I am intrigued enough to want to hear the other 4 sections at some point (though I don’t find any current recordings of the complete work.)* All 3 selections are very entertaining and played with enthusiasm. If only they had included more of this and skipped the Barber…
 
They follow it, ill-advisedly, with a solemn John Williams theme from the movie Lincoln (“With Malice Toward None”), arranged for string quartet by the composer himself. I found it amusing reading the group’s recounting of meeting Mr. Williams and requesting a new work from him, and he came up with this. I have a feeling string quartets are not really his thing and opted for this little arrangement instead. Unfortunately, it sounds nothing like the familiar trumpet solo of the same name, and is actually just a reworking of an arrangement Williams had previously made several years prior, for the album “A Gathering of Friends” (with Yo-Yo Ma soloist). I didn’t like it then; I don’t like it now. Musically, it is somber and more than a little out of context away from the movie - and sounds even more out of place here coming immediately after Marsalis’ rollercoaster train ride. That was bad programming for sure; it didn’t stand a chance.
 
Korngold’s 3rd Quartet was a splendid choice to close the concert. It is well played, with lyricism and vitality, though it sounds just a touch careful compared to the irrepressible Pacifica Quartet on their recent recording of it. (In all fairness, the Pacifica are so characterful and spontaneously carefree in Korngold, it would be well nigh impossible to match them). And the final movement, with its insistent, jagged rhythms, doesn’t quite nag as it should; I would have welcomed a bit more quirkiness to it. (Same with the Scherzo, actually.) The up-close, matter-of-fact recording does them no favors, which tends to lack something in atmosphere and spaciousness. Curiously, I made similar observations of their Beethoven cycle - which, not surprisingly, employed the same engineer.
 
Taken as a whole, this is an enjoyable concert, expertly played by a very accomplished string quartet and reasonably well recorded. It has enough variety to hold one’s interest, but it is undeniably the jazzy Marsalis piece which is the main attraction here, and shows the Calidore String Quartet at their finest. How I wish they had been more innovative with some of the other selections.

*There is a 2024 YouTube video of the Jupiter String Quartet playing these same 3 sections (with even more charisma), which leads me to believe the complete work is not often performed - likely due to its unnecessary, extreme length which seems to be common for this composer dabbling in the Classical genre. Why is that? Why does it take him so long to convey his musical ideas?

An intriguing title comes from Alpha Classics and a conductor who made a strong impression on me when I encountered her a couple years ago, on an album of Harp Concertos, with the Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra. Sadly, she is much less impressive here in front of the Orchestre National Bordeaux Aquitaine - a French orchestra based in Bordeaux, which can boast some notable music directors along the way, including Alain Lombard, John Neschling, Hans Graf, Paul Daniel and, currently, Joseph Swensen. 
 
This concert begins with a work by a composer completely unfamiliar to me - Charlotte Sohy. I initially assumed she was a contemporary composer and this was a brand new work. But upon hearing the very first measures, I realized I was quite wrong about that and checked out the booklet. Sohy was actually born in 1887 and began writing her Symphony in C# Minor in 1914, at the outbreak of WWI. It wasn't completed (or orchestrated) until 3 years later in 1917, and was only just discovered in 2019. Sohy was an organist, but was taught composition by none other than Mel Bonis and eventually Roussel. This is a “war symphony” written by an organist, and as such, sounds that way, with its serious nature and somewhat thick, dense orchestration which must have been a familiar (and comfortable) sound for an organist. In fact, the music is strongly influenced by Franck's Symphony in D minor, which can be heard (and felt) frequently throughout the piece. 
 
After a brooding, sometimes melodramatic opening Lent (which itself lasts a long 11 minutes), the Vif second movement is lighter and ever so welcome; but doesn’t last even 2 minutes before a slow Lent, embedded within it, slogs it right back down. Damn! It had started off so good but she just couldn’t sustain it. The finale is arguably the best of all - though even here, an initial Vif soon gives way to yet another plus lent. However, it is more atmospheric and colorfully orchestrated than before, and doesn’t shut it down entirely. (The composition lessons were evidently paying off by this time.) Taken as a whole, the Symphony goes on for nearly 30 minutes, which is awfully long for its serious subject matter, and I wish it had more variety of mood and transparency in orchestration. Moreover, I can’t help thinking the entire work would have benefitted from a slightly lighter approach than Avni affords it. It’s as if she’s trying to make it grander and more serious than it is, or needs to be - though during a second listen, it became less oppressive and I began to appreciate it more - kind of like when you can listen to Franck’s Symphony only when you’re really in the mood for it.  
 
A little later, CPE Bach’s Symphony #1 seems an odd choice for the program. Avni plays it with a chilly transparency, with the strings starkly sans vibrato, but with an accompanying sweetness to the woodwinds almost glowing in the acoustic. This treatment seems conflicting, though nicely contrasting, with everything around it. It is light and perky, and other than a strange little passage in the finale played sul pont on the strings, I rather enjoyed it - taken on its own.
 
The concert closes with a seriously heavy-handed account of Stravinsky’s spiky Symphony in 3 Movements, with the spikiness all but buried deep in the thick of it. The orchestra comes hammering in like a freight train immediately after the delightful Bach, sounding like it has doubled in size and moved startlingly close to the listener. This is bad programming for sure, and even worse engineering. (The piano is surprisingly well delineated though, likely highlighted by its own microphone right there close.*) Heavy going much of the way, the piece is nearly finished off for good with a too-slow con moto start to the finale. But eventually, Avni does get a little spiky with it as the piu presto gets underway, and it begins to sound more like Stravinsky. But it comes too late to salvage it.
 
I found it amusing reading Avni's own program note in the booklet where she describes this Symphony as “jazzy, groovy, and rhythmically charged” - the very characteristics she fails to convey in it. And one wonders why? Why was she so determined to make this heavy - even more so than the Sohy? Is she purposely trying to avoid a gentler, yes I’ll say it, more feminine side to her temperament on the podium? She was so endearingly elegant and musically sensitive in the previous album of harp music, why has she all but abandoned that here, replaced with unnecessary brawn?
 
But wait, that side of her does emerge in the middle of the program, where she plays a real gem, and the obvious highlight of the entire disc - Milhaud’s Chamber Symphony #1. It is positively delightful and delightfully played here, but unfortunately lasts a mere 4 minutes. So out of a total CD playing time of 65 minutes, only 4 of it is truly outstanding. (I suppose one could also include the 10 minutes of Bach as well.)

The Bordeaux orchestra plays very well throughout, bearing evidence of their distinguished leadership over the years, and they willingly oblige their guest’s every inclination for this recording. The CD is reasonably well recorded (other than the alarming forwardness in the Stravinsky), exhibiting the familiar upfront, somewhat flat house sound typical of Alpha Classics. ​In the end, while the album was a clever idea and includes some interesting musical choices, it unfortunately doesn't fully live up to its promise or potential.
 
*I later saw a YouTube video of the recording session which shows the piano is actually placed front and center of the orchestra as if in a piano concerto. I guess that’s one way to help out a conductor seemingly unconcerned with creating transparent textures.