I was interested in this new Naxos release for the Hailstork Piano Concerto. Seeing the Elfman Violin Concerto as its coupling - and given top billing at that - has me baffled for several reasons.
 
The most obvious is that this is the second recording violinist Sandy Cameron has made of Danny Elfman’s Violin Concerto. And it’s the only work I can find that she’s ever recorded. So one wonders why? 
 
Her first recording of it was made in 2018 for SONY with John Mauceri conducting the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. I would venture a guess that it is probably as definitive a recording of the piece you’re going to get. The RSNO commissioned the work and Elfman collaborated with Cameron on the solo part after hearing her playing in the circus band for a Cirque du Soleil show he composed some music for. A year later, she plays it in concert with JoAnn Falletta and Naxos is on site to record it. I suppose she was touring around playing that piece everywhere.

I admire some Elfman soundtracks, particularly his Men In Black score, and I think The Nightmare Before Christmas is ingenious. So I was curious about his violin concerto when the SONY was released in 2019. And I admit I had it in my collection and I bought the Naxos anyway. But not for the Elfman; for Hailstork’s Piano Concerto. (And, coincidentally, it was the coupling on the SONY which was the original enticement there as well – Elfman's Piano Quartet, which is a terrific piece.)
 
Let’s be realistic. Elfman’s “Eleven Eleven” (so called because it just so happens to be exactly 1,111 measures long) is a pleasant, mildly interesting, over-long (40+ minutes) contemporary violin concerto, competently written by a movie soundtrack composer for a circus band player. I don't mean to be disparaging, but it is what it is. Does it really deserve two recordings, played by the same violinist, within a span of just 3 years? Perhaps.
 
But I do wish Naxos had instead recorded another piano concerto with Stewart Goodyear while he was in town there in Buffalo. (He's such a fantastic and versatile player.) Or better yet, a piece by another African American composer to go with the Hailstork. However, I read in the tiny print at the bottom of the back cover that both concertos were recorded live at two separate concerts, separated by 3 years - the Elfman in 2019 and the Hailstork in 2022. So this album is all about JoAnn Falletta, and that’s probably the most logical explanation for why we've got what we’ve got.
 
And one more thing before I move on. I have to admonish Naxos for their rather disingenuous blurb on the back of the CD where they declare these are both “brand new concertos”. They aren’t. The Elfman was written in 2017 and has already been recorded before, and the Hailstork was written in 1992 – over 30 years ago!

I was interested in comparing the two recordings of the violin concerto, as I remember being less than impressed with it on the earlier SONY release. I started by comparing the timings of the two and notice that all 4 movements are slightly quicker with Falletta – sometimes shaving off as much as an entire minute. Some of this might be the spontaneity of the live concert coming through, but I’m not sure it’s enough to warrant another CD release as if it’s a fresh rethinking of the piece. (It’s not). Yet there’s no denying that all 4 movements sound a bit more lively and engaging with Falletta in charge. Not only that, the Naxos recording, despite being made at a “live” concert, is in some ways more natural than the SONY. And let’s examine that a bit more closely.
 
I read in the booklet that this piece is written for “amplified” violin. Now, is that because its dedicatee, Sandy Cameron’s sound is too small for a concerto setting and Elfman decided it was OK to give her a little boost, as she surely was used to having in the circus band? I wonder because I can hear nothing in either recording which would indicate amplification was warranted - musically or otherwise. (For example, there are no special effects which would benefit from being amplified like those used by George Crumb in his Black Angels, scored for electrified string quartet.) 

Falletta’s orchestra on Naxos is much more textured, colorful and alluring than the RSNO is on SONY. And the orchestra fills and defines the hall acoustic much more realistically. However, the solo violin sounds peculiar during the entire opening Grave section and it wasn't until after reading the booklet that I realized what I'm hearing is the electronic artificiality of an amplified violin. Ick. Fortunately, it does not persist everywhere, but it does taint some of the aching lyricism of the slow movement as well. I am mystified why this is utilized at all.
 
Listening to the SONY immediately after the Naxos, the violin tone is firmer, but I immediately notice a flat, upfront perspective, with the orchestra and the violin occupying the same space in a plane right at the front of the speakers. This airless wall of sound is not terribly realistic (or natural), especially compared to the spacious, 3-dimensional loveliness of the Naxos house sound in Buffalo.
 
Regarding the quicker tempos, the first movement is the least affected and is very similar on both recordings. And is decidedly too long for its material in both readings (clocking in at nearly 14 minutes). It alternates between lyrical passages and jaunty sections of the stomping rhythms characteristic of the composer's film music.

The 2nd movement is more exciting on Naxos, if also just a bit scrambling. I thought it sounded more natural - more “right” - on SONY, with a slightly more relaxed tempo reminiscent of Prokofiev. (In either case, it too goes on way too long.) Similarly in the 4th movement, the SONY, at a slightly more manageable tempo, portrays the giocoso marking more so than on the later reading. Both display an intriguing Shostakovichian spikiness in the writing which is surely the highlight of the entire piece.

It is in the slow 3rd movement where the much quicker pace on Naxos scores a distinct advantage. Falletta establishes a more moving tempo which is entirely favorable, allowing the music to flow more naturally. Mauceri is brooding and curiously hesitant, which tends to impede the natural outpouring of expression. He establishes an atmosphere of anticipation, much like a foreboding scene in a movie, but purely as music, it sounds a bit contrived. And when the violin enters, it really is unnaturally forward and larger-than-life. (Perhaps that's the amplified violin rearing its ugly head again). However, that is preferable to the electronic thinness which frequents her tone on Naxos.
 
After spending too much time on this, my general observation is that the live remake is a bit more involving but my view of the piece remains unchanged. It is a pleasant, largely unmemorable violin concerto which I enjoyed hearing (even a second time) but likely will never listen to again.
 
Now to the Piano Concerto - and the real reason for acquiring this CD. 
 
This is a marvelous work, cast in 3 continuous movements played without pause. The first begins with some rhapsodic richness reminiscent of Rachmaninoff but more chromatically enterprising. It soon takes off in a new direction with rhythmic energy and passages of engaging, incisive articulation, developing some wonderful interplay between soloist and orchestra. The entire opening section sounds rather more Russian than American, punctuated with some Walton-like spikiness and brass interjections along with harmonic undertones of Hindemith. Prokofiev even makes an appearance here and there. A beautiful melancholy takes over, eventually leading seamlessly into a pensive Adagio, which is heartfelt, melodious and very moving. Here on full display is the characteristic American gift of melody and Stewart Goodyear relishes its singing lines, with glorious legato playing.
 
This leads to a very brief Lento of the finale which almost immediately takes flight in a very Walton-like vivace. The tempo feels absolutely perfect (i.e. not too fast), building tension and momentum, culminating in some passages of thrilling bravura, before a sudden interruption returns us to a slow, Rachmaninoff-ian, rapturous respite as we approach the end. Hailstork then finishes it off with an all-too-brief, exhilarating flourish. Pianist and orchestra alike display plenty of fireworks and enthusiasm, and the piece leaves us satisfied and wishing there was more.
 
This is a glorious concerto which makes a lasting impression and has absolutely everything going for it - memorable melodies, rich, adventurous harmonies, dazzling pianistic displays, and brilliant orchestration. It engages the orchestra almost as if in a showpiece; surely any group would be eager to learn it. The solo part does not sound enormously difficult and should therefore be easily accommodated by many a concert pianist. It is endlessly varied and thoroughly enjoyable to listen to. Moreover, it isn’t too long for the average concert-goer’s attention span and deserves to be heard everywhere. 
 
I have always admired JoAnn Falletta. She is an imaginative, energetic and truly inspiring conductor (and worlds away better than the mediocre Marin Alsop; I have never understood her persistent popularity.) Falletta is marvelous in every recording of hers I’ve heard and this one is no exception. With the fabulous Stewart Goodyear at the keyboard and Falletta on the podium, there could be no better advocates for bringing this concerto to light and affording it the prominence it deserves.   
 
I noted earlier how good the recorded sound is and it is especially praise-worthy in the piano concerto, particularly as it is a live concert. Through both concerts, audience noise is virtually nonexistent and applause is mercifully absent.
 
Despite my criticisms of the Elfman (and somewhat frivolous comments regarding this violin player), this is yet another important and rewarding CD in the ongoing American Classics series from Naxos. Even if you already have the earlier SONY recording of the violin concerto, you owe it to yourself to hear this fantastic piano concerto.

I've been listening to a lot of Penderecki lately and was excited to see this collection on Capriccio, which includes not only all 4 String Quartets but also the Clarinet Quartet and the String Trio too! Over 70 minutes of music. I was also excited to explore a group new to me, the Polish Meccore String Quartet. 

With all this music spanning a decades-long career, I do wish it were presented in chronological order. It's a frequent complaint of mine and this one is particularly exasperating. It starts with a little piece from 1988, followed by the Clarinet Quartet from 1993. And when we finally do get to the String Quartets (beginning in 1960), they aren't even in numbered order! As laid out on this CD, they appear as follows: #1, #3, #2, #4. And I just don't understand why. 

I suppose I should just get used to it because it seems to happen all the time. Fortunately, I'm getting proficient at programming my CD player and can listen to them in any order I want. So that problem is easily solved!

​Listening to the music, I found the Meccore Quartet to be highly accomplished and expressive, and the recorded sound up close and immediate (typical of the Capriccio house sound). My main interest was with the String Quartets, so I started there.

I initially thought the First was a little too matter-of-fact and missing some of the otherworldly atmosphere heard in the best recordings. However, consulting the score, I noticed that entire opening section, which calls for fingers thumping against the neck of the instruments, is marked ff sempre. Many groups vary the dynamics here, thus allowing them to create seemingly random sounds from the legno battuto (to strike with the wooden part of the bow) and the screeching of the very highest notes to jump out shockingly at the listener. While that can be more interesting to listen to, the Meccore follow the score more faithfully. So perhaps what I'm hearing as being "matter-of-fact" may actually be precisely what Penderecki asks for. Or maybe it's just a matter of interpretation.

I also thought the Second wasn't quite wild enough - at first. Dynamic extremes are not quite as shockingly pronounced as in some performances. But they are plenty vigorous as we venture into that dissonant central section. And throughout, rather than focusing on sheer atmosphere, they emphasize the variety of unimaginable tonal sounds - which are positively eerie. (Even the score can't quite explain exactly how they make all these sounds.) The passage which requires the players to whistle while playing harmonics, for example, is awesome - and later, howling sounds from bowing on the tail piece are deliciously creepy. The close-up perspective, though, does somewhat diminish the otherworldly atmosphere heard in some recordings, but this marvelous group makes up for it with variety of sounds.

The Third and Fourth Quartets are completely different. Based on folk tunes, they have a tonal approachability which suits this group especially well. They excel at bringing out all the variety of moods and characterization in these works, while the immediacy of the recorded sound enhances the richness of their blend. Both pieces prominently feature the viola, and this group's violist, Michal Bryla, displays a gloriously textured, wooden tone.  

Only in the String Trio did I feel a bit more bite to bow on string would have been beneficial. And tempos seem just a bit on the slow side.

However, the Clarinet Quartet is the real highlight of this program. It is absolutely marvelous as played here, with clarinetist Jan Jakub Bokun joining the group. His bright (but not too bright), round and expressive tone is perfectly suited to the piece, especially in the desolate landscape of the opening Notturno, where his acapella solo at the beginning is simply beautiful, and then positively gorgeous when joined a few bars later by the viola in a very moving duet. The recording engineer must garner some of the credit for masterfully balancing the two players perfectly as equals. (And seriously, have we ever heard more luxuriant viola sound?) The central movements are captivating and over much too quickly before the finale Abschied ("Departure") returns us to the bleak soundworld heard before. This is one of Penderecki's most richly Romantic creations (coming somewhat later in his career) and these musicians bring out its very best. 

Taken as a whole, this is a terrific collection. It is very well played and recorded and I couldn't be happier that it includes so much music on one CD. Among my favorite recordings of the 4 Quartets, the Tippet Quartet on Naxos adds only the Trio; while the Silesian Quartet on Chandos plays the Clarinet Quartet but omits the Trio. And on Dux, the DAFO String Quartet gives us both of the extras, but it was recorded in 2010 - before the 4th String Quartet was even composed! So that is missing from theirs.

To have all this music together at last is a real plus in favor of the Capriccio. This is essential listening for all admirers of Penderecki's string chamber music. 

​I've acquired quite a few CDs of Grazyna Bacewicz's music during the recent revival of her music. I have found her output quite variable, but have enjoyed much of it. 

On Chandos, her Violin Concertos are quite marvelous. Her String Quintets are pretty good too. Her String Quartets, though - not so much. There's a very nice collection of some lighter orchestral music on Hyperion (Ronald Corp conducting) along with a smattering of selections here and there on various releases on the Polish label, Dux. 

And then there's this latest CD from Ondine.

Surely there comes a point when enough is enough. I think we've heard the best of her output, and...well, can't we just leave it at that? Unfortunately, the music on this newest disc is not some of her best, as it reveals perhaps too much of her dissonant style at its least effective.

But there are some good things. Certainly the earliest work, Overture (from 1943), which comes first on this CD, is quite pleasant and makes a splendid concert opener. But it lasts just 5-1/2 minutes. Then it's on to the Piano Concerto of 1949, which is OK, but gets a little weird (much like her String Quartets). If not entirely coherent as a whole, there are passages with enough structure and direction that one can appreciate the accomplishment. A memorable tune or two would have been most welcome. But overall it's worth hearing.

Jump ahead 17 years to 1966 and Ms. Bacewicz gets weirder still with the Double Piano Concerto. Here we have 16 minutes of pounding from the pianists interspersed with some pleasing, almost melodic, interludes. The slow movement in particular has some beguiling passages of haunting melancholy with some beautiful solo writing (flute, violin) and imaginative orchestration. But, irritatingly, Bacewicz insists on interrupting it again and again with unnecessary pounding from the pianos. Why someone would intentionally interject something so unappealing into something so wonderful is baffling. The piece is certainly an homage to Bartok. Everywhere I hear snippets of his music (more than just hints). The Larghetto in particular is very reminiscent of the 1st movement of his Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta, while the finale has much of that work's final section, and even some of his Concerto for Orchestra. But Bacewicz is angrier than Bartok and deliberately dissonant in places which don't really call for it. 

The concluding Music for Strings, Trumpets and Percussion is not quite as noisy, and has some much needed light-and-shade air to it after the relentless pounding of the Double Concerto. It is nonetheless determinedly atonal. The piece has so much promise, but frankly, I'm not convinced by the inclusion of trumpets in this mostly string work. One wonders whatever inspired her to include them. There are many instances where the strings, aided by subtle use of percussion, generate momentum with an interesting, energetic passage only to be inexplicably interrupted by the trumpets (almost always at ff) which serve only to add unnecessary discord. So much potential here seems to have gone amiss with the scoring.

One can't fault the musicians for their total commitment to this music. The orchestra and pianists alike play it as loudly as it demands and with all the bombast it deserves. But I can't help but wonder if a touch more finesse and nuance in those grisly parts would have allowed them to be a little more palatable for many of us.

I would strongly recommend anyone wanting to explore this composer to turn to the several releases on Chandos for a much more musically satisfying representation of her art. Chandos gave us much of her best and then knew when to quit with it.

I closed my review of Pentatone's previous release (Ligeti's String Quartets played by the fabulous Diotima Quartet) with: "I'm actually excited about the Pentatone label again." Well, this latest one doesn't generate quite that same level of excitement, but it's still pretty good.

I must start with a couple of off-putting production details, though, before we get to the music.

Pentatone, which established its place in the Classical music world as the label for SACD, has since abandoned the format and is now branching out into digital downloads and streaming. Most of its new releases on a physical medium are CD only. I understand; it's a sign of the times. But what annoys me is that nowhere is that fact revealed on their front or back covers. In fact, they conspicuously go out of their way to NOT display any format logos of any kind - not even the "Digital Compact Disc" logo. It's not even stamped on the CD itself. Not until one loads the disc in the player and it defaults to "CD" is it confirmed this is indeed CD only. I harp on Pentatone for this because all their releases from the very beginning have been SACDs. But now suddenly they are not.

To be fair, there are two vague indicators on the back (which you have to really look for to find), printed sideways in the extreme lower corner:
a) the "Stereo" logo, which pretty much ensures this is not a multi-channel/hybrid SACD; and
b) the PCM logo - which likely will not mean anything to most collectors. For those interested: SACDs use DSD digital encoding, while CDs use PCM.

Next, this recording was made of a LIVE performance in the Netherlands. Nowhere is that disclosed until after you've purchased it and read it in the booklet in the fine print on the "Acknowledgements" page. So I think Pentatone is being a bit disingenuous with several aspects of this release.

Before getting to the music, I was interested in learning something about conductor Karina Canellakis. I suppose folks in the Netherlands know all about her, but I had not heard of her before. Unbelievably, the CD booklet makes no mention of her whatsoever. Not a single word about the conductor or the orchestra. Curiously there is a blurb on the Amazon page about her in which we learn she is the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra's new chief conductor, she's "in high demand", and has a brand new exclusive recording contract with Pentatone. All good to know. One wonders why the folks at Pentatone didn't see fit to include all this exciting news in her debut album with them. After all, it's her picture on their cover, not Bartok's.

But enough grumbling about the production. Let's get to what matters most - the music.

I was pleased Pentatone placed the 4 Orchestral Pieces first on the CD, rather than appending it after the triumphant finale of the main work. These were originally written for two pianos in 1912 and orchestrated 11 years later. With Canellakis at the helm, my first impression was that the opening Preludio and concluding Marcia funebre are pretty severe and need a little more variety of textures and dynamics. To be fair, the recording does her no favors, which sounds a bit stuffy and compressed. Fortunately, matters improve in the two central Pieces, with more air and spaciousness to the acoustic. In the Scherzo, Canellakis brings plenty of energy and drama, but it's not driven. She handles the variety of tempo changes with aplomb and the orchestra responds with gusto. It is so "reminiscent" of Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin I was shocked to discover this was actually written 13 years before the ballet! The best is yet to come in the glorious 3rd Piece (Intermezzo), with its haunting rhythmic pulses played so sensuously by muted strings. This is wonderfully atmospheric and alluring.

Turning to the main attraction, competition is fierce in the Concerto For Orchestra, and during the opening movement I wasn't convinced Canellakis would get the most out of it. It's rather brooding in her hands and could use a touch more momentum. But all reservations are swept aside with the 2nd movement, whose very fast tempo and attention to details perked me up instantly. So much so I consulted the score and discovered that the Boosey & Hawkes 1993 Revised Edition has "resolved any uncertainty over tempo indication and metronome marking for this movement, and that Quarter Note = 94 is Bartok's true intention". I dutifully dusted off my metronome (literally) and confirmed that is exactly the tempo I'm hearing on this recording. So kudos to Ms. Canellakis for doing her homework and daring to play this movement up to tempo. To be honest, I initially thought it sounded almost comical at this speed. And all those short, abrupt poco ritards were rushed through with scant regard, sounding a bit awkward. But on a subsequent listen, after acclimating to the faster tempo, they sounded more natural and the entire movement simply dances with life and wit - as if brushing off old cobwebs. (The bassoons obviously had a marvelous time with it!)

After a rather conventional 3rd movement, the 4th is similarly brought to life with quick tempos and vivid characterization. As a matter of fact, the entire orchestra seems to be thoroughly enjoying themselves in these central movements. I also noted some delightful woodwind solos, especially from the delectable piccolo and principal flute.

The Finale dashes off fully up to speed, and ultimately is a little breathless. But Canellakis doesn't drive it too hard, observing that the majority of big passages are marked forte, not fortissimo. (Bartok uses a true fortissimo very sparingly.) The movement as a whole exhibits impressive scope and generates splendid momentum leading up to the final climax. That ending, though, didn't quite raise the roof as I would have expected. I just wonder if that final section (from Figure 573, which includes the alternate ending Bartok composed after the premier) was recorded separately without the audience present to preclude the cheers and applause at the end. The acoustic is just perceptibly different here and the final ff doesn't quite erupt into an unrestrained climax as it should. But never mind, it's more than satisfactory, if not hair-raising.

Speaking of the audience, one would never know this is a recording of a live concert. There are no extraneous audience noises and Pentatone has mercifully edited out any applause.  

I'm sure the good folks in the Netherlands love their new conductor. And watching her conduct concerts on YouTube, her animated charisma on the podium is likely a real crowd-pleaser. While this is not the very best recording of Bartok's final masterwork, it is certainly worth hearing. And, frankly, any new recording which prompts me to grab my score and discover something new is remarkable indeed. I will be interested to see what she and Pentatone come up with next.​

Now this is a release which instantly attracts my interest - beloved repertoire played by musicians heretofore unknown to me on a label I've not encountered before. I was excited to find a new label to explore, but was surprised to learn Evidence Classics has been around since 2017, and it appears this recording of the Beethoven Violin Sonatas was one of its first releases. This was actually recorded by Little Tribeca, whose Classical recordings can also be found on the Aparte label.

I recently discovered violinist Tedi Papavrami when going through a pile of older CDs I had never gotten around to listening to. And I fell in love with his playing on a 2010 Aeon CD collection which includes the Saint-Saens 3rd Violin Concerto plus various showpieces. There is a freshness to his playing, along with refreshing tempos, which instantly won me over. And, as is so often the case with this marvelous hobby, it inspired me to seek out more recordings from this musician. Hence, this review of his Beethoven. 

Listening to it, I am once again struck with the freshness of his playing which I can't help but "love" some more. Papavrami's sound reminds me of Heifetz (and maybe Perlman) - i.e. slightly brighter than usual, with just a hint of nasality here and there (but much less so than Isaac Stern) - and completely different from Zukerman's wooden, textured voluptuousness which never varies. Papavrami's tone exhibits the classic Stradivarius sound, which is just perfect for this music.

I was actually surprised I couldn't find any fault with his Beethoven; I'm picky in how I want my Beethoven to go. For instance, I don't like the unremitting sweetness (and fussiness) of Capucon, or the lightweight fleetness of Faust. And I have no patience for the languid sleepiness of Szeryng or the leisurely Zukerman.  

So approaching this new set, I was fully expecting to have been left wanting. But after listening to the entire 3-CD set, I was thoroughly enamored with everything I heard. So I decided to let it sit for a few days and try it again later.

Now, surely, on second acquaintance I would be more critical of it. I wasn't. In fact, I was even more enraptured with it. And later, after comparing it to some other sets in my collection, it easily rises to the top as the most glorious of all.

If I had initially thought there wasn't quite enough overt brio or ostentatious "molto" to the movements with those indications, listening again I can confirm tempos are definitely not an issue. As a matter of fact, they are about as perfect as it gets. There's plenty of velocity to an Allegro and more than enough presto and vivace when asked for. Tempos are invigorating and most assuredly con spirito, but never hectic or breathless. And in place of aggressive bowing and an overpowering piano, there is poise. And just a touch of lightness. Most notable, however, are a pervading joy and spontaneity - marked by pronounced observance of dynamics and punctuated accents. These qualities are extraordinary and make these pieces positively come alive. Slow movements are contemplative (if occasionally perhaps a tad too pensive) but tempos don't sag. There is a singing simplicity which is heartfelt and never weighed down with heavy emotion. 

Speaking of tempos, compared to my previous favorite complete set, with Hungarian violinist Kristof Barati and pianist Klara Wurtz on Brilliant Classics (2012), timings throughout are very similar. And both are significantly quicker than the very leisurely Zukerman and Szeryng (to name just two).

Stylistically, pianist Francois-Frederic Guy is the perfect partner. I suppose it could be noted that he is slightly less commanding than some pianists can be. This may be partly the result of the recorded balance, but not entirely. While Mr. Guy plays with authority and his piano sounds full-sized, it's never in danger of overwhelming the violin. And as Papavrami's violin sings ever so delightfully, Guy responds with delicacy and impressive leggiero. 

Lest you think this is lightweight Beethoven by my description of it, it most certainly is not. There is an abundance of energy and depth of insight to be heard everywhere. And as the set progresses, the glories continue to be revealed, and a certain gravitas becomes more apparent, as appropriate.

As we venture into the Opus 30s, the piano has gained a touch more prominence (to great advantage) and the violin bowing becomes a bit more muscular. (I suspect these later sonatas were recorded in different sessions, several months later.) Just listen to the 3rd of these (Sonata #8), which is absolutely exhilarating!

And then ... as we experience the Kreutzer (#9), we are immersed into the music with an involvement which is simply spellbinding. This may be the most famous sonata of the set, but it is infused with such scintillating freshness and joy on this recording, it's as if hearing it anew. As a matter of fact, I was so overwhelmed with it, I had to stop and play it again before continuing on to the final masterwork.

And with it we witness a disarming intimacy and deeply felt musical expression, concluding with a jubilant finale. A glorious conclusion to the set.

Fortunately, the recorded sound is excellent. Perfectly balanced with realistic immediacy from within an intimate, airy acoustic, the sound is clean, clear, dynamic and full of color. There is a lustrous radiancy to the violin tone and the unmistakable brilliance of a Steinway piano's upper octaves. Recordings of chamber music don't get much better than this.

The booklet writer, Helene Cao, observes that while violinists consider Beethoven's Violin Sonatas the crowning glory of their repertoire (and they certainly sound it here), they are generally "not held in the same high regard as the Piano Sonatas or String Quartets". That may be - and before hearing this set I would probably have agreed. But I've got to say most emphatically, I have never before heard such creative inspiration or engaging musical involvement in these violin sonatas than in the hands of Papavrami and Guy. As performed here, they surely transcend the piano sonatas and come ever so close to equaling the exalted supremacy of the string quartets. I've listened to this set 3 times already (which almost never happens with a new recording) and I still can't get enough of it. I can hardly give it more praise than that.

It is significant this complete set has been fit onto just 3 CDs, while many are spread out over 4. Swift tempos have surely been a factor, but Evidence Classics has prudently taken advantage of CD's full capacity; CD 1 plays for 73 minutes, CD 3 over 78!

If I have a quibble with the production, it is that not all of the French booklet notes are translated to English. The essay about the music is, but there is an additional section about the hall in which the recording sessions took place which is not. It is even more unfortunate there are no notes whatever about the performers. I observed from their picture on the cover they obviously are not youngsters. So out of curiosity I Googled them and learned that Tedi Papavrami, Albanian, was born in 1971, and Francois-Frederick Guy (not to be confused with Swiss cellist, Francois Guye, who, coincidentally, plays with Papavrami in the Quatuor Schumann) is French, born in 1969. I hear a corresponding maturity and depth of expression in their playing of Beethoven. Yet it's never prosaic. They bring a youthful breath of fresh air to these enduring works which tends to eclipse every other recording I'm familiar with.

This recording establishes a new standard for Beethoven's Violin Sonatas and can confidently stand alongside the Dover Quartet's superb set of his String Quartets (on Cedille Records) as some of the greatest Beethoven ever recorded.    

After having been mightily impressed with the Quatuor Van Kuijk's 2022 Alpha Classics Mendelssohn set (please see my review elsewhere on this blog), I was eager to hear more from this group. Not wanting to get into their quasi "period" playing style they adopt in Mozart and Schubert, I turned to their other recording, the 2017 Alpha Classics CD of the Debussy and Ravel Quartets. And I am thrilled to hear many of the same qualities I enjoyed in their Mendelssohn. 

Honestly, many of the observations I made describing their Mendelssohn apply to these French quartets as well. However it isn't a cut-and-paste job. All the characteristics I admire in their playing are elevated a step further in these highly Impressionistic works. For example, the use of vibrato is even more varied - from flatly none at all, to full-bodied vibrancy. And dynamics are even wider - the likes of which I've never heard before in Debussy and Ravel. And the variety of tone colors and tonal blend is even more pronounced.

Starting with the Debussy, which comes first on the CD, I was struck with how the dynamic extremes and variety of color in their playing are positively orchestral. I was mesmerized by the awesomeness of what I was hearing and had to continually remind myself this was just 4 players creating this incredible palette of sound. I was particularly impressed in fortissimo passages how the group minimizes their vibrato to produce an amazing strength - and sheer mass - of sound, without ever sounding forced, pushy or gruff. It's not dissimilar to a full orchestral string section whose vibrato becomes less distinctly discernable as the group combines to play fortissimo en masse. I can think of many recordings of these Quartets which are disfigured by ugly fortissimos, as the group tries too hard to sound larger than they are in an effort to sound "big". Like overblown brass blats from a high school marching band, string quartets can over-play and create unpleasant sounds when trying to play more loudly than they actually can (or should). But not here. The music just grows louder - more powerful and monumental - but the quality of sound production is never compromised. It's difficult to describe, actually. But it's incredible, and very few groups can achieve it so impressively.
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And then ... a delicate, shimmering pianissimo follows, drawing the listener in with rapt attention and an expectancy of what's happening next. It's the suddenness of dynamic contrasts which is so riveting. And even fewer groups can achieve this so marvelously.

Tempos can be tricky in Debussy and they are masterfully handled here. Where other groups like to linger and hold back the tempo with an abundance of unmarked rubato, the Van Kuijk moves the music forward with propulsion, sweeping the listener along. This sense of momentum, with speeds often slightly quicker than usual, reveals that Debussy can be positively invigorating. Yet it's not driven. Far from it. There is a resilient ebb and flow, a self-effacing fluidity, which enhances the very essence of this music. I must mention it again, it's the suddenness of contrasts which engages the listener in a way not often encountered, especially in a recorded performance.

Overall, I was fascinated by how "modern" Debussy sounds in this performance of his quartet (which, amazingly, was written in 1893 - the year Tchaikovsky died). The Van Kuijk are more purposeful than usual, slightly less hazily "impressionistic", as if committed to bringing the piece soundly into the 20th-Century. They play it with such conviction, it's almost like hearing it for the first time.

This is surely the most captivating, exciting and thoroughly involving recording of the Debussy I have ever heard. It would therefore be difficult for the Ravel to rise to these exalted heights. And it nearly does. 

The opening Allegro Moderato sets the stage with a disarming simplicity and decidedly more freedom with tempos. There is an exquisiteness here which is wholly appropriate (and different from that heard in the Debussy). Also appropriate for Ravel, there are dramatic outbursts as well. And once again I am dazzled by the dynamic contrasts.

The pizzicato second movement is most assuredly Vif - gossamer and very exciting, while the slow movement is sufficiently moody, almost brooding. Then hold on for the finale, which blasts off like a rocket launch. If the Van Kuijk makes Debussy invigorating, they take this Ravel to another level altogether. It is absolutely electrifying.

If I was initially struck by how modern the Debussy sounds, I am amazed after listening to the Ravel at how different the two pieces are in these performances. They were composed just 10 years apart, yet are played here with distinct individuality. I believe many groups set out to highlight the similarities, while the Quatuor Van Kuijk relishes the differences.

I must emphatically state that Alpha Classics is certainly deserving of praise for the outstanding success of these recordings. As in the companion Mendelssohn set, one forgets this is a CD played on electronics in the living room. It simply sounds like the real thing - superbly focused, palpably present, richly colorful and utterly natural. The wide dynamic range is given space to expand effortlessly into a hall which seems perfectly suited for this music - providing plenty of warmth and just enough reverb to be atmospheric, yet spacious, airy and detailed. The hall isn't too big; rather it's an intimate setting, as if the musicians are in the room with you. However, the perspective is not so close that bow-on-string sounds are exaggerated, but it does reveal the texture to the creation of sound. In other words, it's about as realistic and 3-dimensional as string quartet recordings get. 

Anyone familiar with my reviews will probably know what is inevitably coming next. And indeed I must grumble about the program. Looking at the track listing, one will notice the final work on this string quartet concert is a vocal work by Chausson. And I simply must ask - WHY? It is unquestionably, inconceivably out of place here. It is a slow, morose work for mezzo-soprano which is difficult to endure in the best of settings. Making it even worse, they inexplicably place it last on the CD - AFTER the thrilling conclusion of the Ravel! I'm not a fan of "songs" in any circumstance and its inclusion here is most unwelcome. 

I would have actually preferred they didn't include a filler at all if this is all they could come up with. And in fairness, most CDs offering these 2 string quartets don't. On the other hand, many do - something much more appropriate, like another string quartet. We often see the Faure. Or something unusual like the Saint-Saens First. Or more adventurous yet, some even give us the Dutilleux (Ainsi la Nuit). I would have LOVED to have another string quartet played by the Quatuor Van Kuijk. Wouldn't it have been stupendous to hear them play Dutilleux?!

So, excluding the 7-minutes taken up by the Chausson, we're left with a playing time of just 58 minutes on this CD. And that's good enough for me, given the fabulous music-making. 

I've been collecting this BIS series of Respighi recordings from John Neschling since the first release appeared in 2010. There has been much to enjoy, despite a bit of the routine creeping into some of the readings along the way. I found the series improved as it progressed, especially when venturing into less frequently recorded pieces in the later releases (2015-2017). The sense of routine was more notable in the earlier volumes which included the Roman Trilogy, La Boutique Fantasque, 3 Botticelli Pictures, etc. However the performances grew more engaging with the 2015 disc, which included Metamorphoseon, Ballad of the Gomes and Belkis Suite, and in the 2016 Sinfonia Drammatica. Most impressive of all came in 2017 with a wonderful reading of Church Windows. This is a difficult piece to bring off and admittedly Neschling is helped enormously by the wide-ranging, effortlessly expansive and luminous recorded sound from BIS. Nonetheless, this is surely the most convincing recording of the piece I've heard.

Finally in 2023, after a gap of several years (one wonders why such a delay) comes one more installment which should arguably be the best of the lot - the delightful Three Ancient Airs and Dances Suites and The Birds. These lighthearted works should be fairly easy to bring to life, but I hear a return to the overly refined blandness of Neschling's earlier volumes - but curiously even more under-characterized here. The sound is fine and the orchestral playing is cultivated. But the entire affair is missing sparkle and life. Tempos seem a bit sluggish throughout and the orchestra sounds like they'd rather be playing something else. I found myself losing interest and growing restless as I trudged through it.

A long-winded, turgid review of this release appears on Amazon which I found amusing, especially after listening to this recording. The writer complains that "old people" don't like new recordings because they'll always feel their old war-horse favorites are the best and can never be matched. (Sigh...) In the case of Ancient Airs and Dances, he cites specifically Dorati (1958 Mercury) and Ozawa (1979 DG). Funny he mentions those two, as I highly admire both of those recordings myself! They are simply among the best recorded versions and thus one can't help but compare new ones to them. In supporting his personal preference for the new one from Neschling, Mr. Amazon man criticizes us older listeners for having gotten used to the old multi-mic'd recorded sound and therefore can't adjust to the more natural balance of modern recordings such as this one from BIS. Well, that isn't even a fact-based argument. Mercury's reputation, indeed its raison d-etre, was based upon its use of minimal microphones (usually only 2, sometimes 3), with no spot-mics or multi-channel manipulation in the control room whatsoever. True, DG utilized multi-mic techniques, however Boston's Symphony Hall ensured a rich, atmospheric acoustic and blooming orchestral colors offset the judicious spotlighting.

However, what both of these time-honored, classic recordings do provide is a stunning orchestral presence, with a close, upfront perspective which brings the music right into the listening room. But it's not due to multi-miking, but the proximity of the mics to the players. In comparison, BIS transports the listener back towards the rear of the hall - a startling difference in where one is seated in the enormity of the recorded space. However, once the ear adjusts (and giving the BIS a healthy increase in volume to match the others), the differences are clearly identified as being the result of orchestral execution. Neschling prefers on-the-string bowing - languid legatos and a smoother bowing style than do Dorati and Ozawa. The Philharmonia Hungarica and Boston Symphony strings work harder at it - with crisper articulation and decidedly more variety of sound. Neschling's Royal de Liege strings tend to sound a bit one-dimensional - a dense wall of sound which rarely varies. Even the musical phrasing is rather superficial. This is what I hear as a lack of characterization in his readings. Yes, the recorded sound plays a part, and BIS doesn't help in this regard. However, it's not just about the more "natural" recording, it's about articulation. It's also about interpretation - the imagination and creativity to draw inspired music-making from an orchestra.

(I must interject here that Mercury's 2004 SACD remastering of the Dorati is a vast improvement over the original CD release. It is warmer and more refined, and frankly, less crude. My comments regarding this recording are based entirely on the SACD.)

That being said, these readings from Neschling are well-played and pleasant - and that's about as far I'll go with praise. They're not crisply alert, not insightful or in any way distinctive, and not even all that delightful. And coming after Dorati and Ozawa, they frankly sound a little bland. Both venerable conductors are more extrovert in this music - displaying an individuality which is largely missing in many of today's faceless orchestral recordings. It is becoming nearly impossible to identify an orchestra any more just by listening to them on record. They are all tending to sound the same - refined, anonymous, meticulously accomplished and largely dispassionate. (Though I can hardly blame the orchestras themselves; this is a product of today's crop of conductors - with a few exceptions.) There is no denying the Orchestre Philharmonique Royal de Liege dutifully conforms to the current trend. And with sumptuous recorded sound from BIS, in its way this release is satisfying. And it certainly fits in well with the rest of Neschling's cycle. 

While I lament the current rarity of truly great conductors which were so abundant in the past, I don't dwell on it. Nor have I ever been one to long for the "good old days" of early stereo (or god forbid, mono) recordings. I still have excellent hearing and have assembled an exceptional stereo system which can reproduce music with realism in the home environment. I passionately welcome new recordings and immerse myself in the wonders of modern recorded sound.

A case in point is my personal favorite recording of these Respighi works - a modern recording which sweeps the board. There is none better from any era than the very impressive 2015 SACD from the CPO label with Henry Raudales conducting the Munich Radio Symphony Orchestra (recorded in 2009). It is instantly fresher and more engaging than Neschling's, with crisper articulation and recorded sound which is just as refined as the BIS but with more life, color and sparkle to it. In Raudales's hands, this music positively dances (as surely it should; these are airs and dances after all). His direction is a master class in how to infuse these little pieces with enchantment. The variety of dynamics and tempos, along with mercurial phrasing and endless imaginative touches combine to make a thoroughly involving experience. And there is something else too which seems to elude other conductors - charm. This music is so positively delightful I found myself smiling all through it. I was planning on just spot-checking this collection for comparisons' sake but ended up listening to it in its entirety. 

The differences between the two are even more strikingly illustrated in The Birds, where Raudales's descriptive characterization is so vivid, it conjures each bird to mind in a way Neschling barely hints at. CPO doesn't produce many SACDs, but this one is exceptional. I enjoyed it very much - much more than Neschling's. ​

After being so thoroughly dismayed (and, frankly, perturbed) by the new Mirare CD of Brahms Serenades played by the Orchestre Consuelo (see my review elsewhere on this blog), I just couldn't leave that bitter taste lingering in my mind. I had to find a better recording. Oh, there are probably at least a dozen on my shelves I could dust off and listen to, but I was craving a newer release. Something fresh. Searching Amazon, I came across this recent one from Jaime Martin on Ondine. I'm not sure how I missed it when it was released in 2017, but I am happy to hear it now.

Where founder and principal cellist Victor Julien-Laferriere led his small orchestra in readings completely devoid of charm on Mirare, flautist Jaime Martin leads the Gavle Symphony Orchestra in performances brimming with it. And along with charm, the music is endowed with graceful musical phrasing and joyful singing lines - all of which are inexplicably absent in the other recording. Tempos are perfectly chosen throughout both works, the orchestral playing is sophisticated, and the recorded sound is very good. 

It's really that simple. 

And while all of the above is true, in all honesty it's the Second Serenade here which is the real gem. Not that the First is in any way inferior; it's just not quite as glorious as the Second - which is simply effervescent and lifted aloft with joy to a greater degree than we hear in the First. And Martin proves that tempos can indeed be quick and moved along with forward momentum, without excessive lingering, and work perfectly fine - unlike what we witnessed in Julien-Laferriere's indifferent attempt at it.

I notice in the booklet that each of these Serenades was recorded at different sessions, separated by several months. It is the later recording which is the happiest, for whatever reason. Even the sound is better in the later session - airier, with a more spacious acoustic. Perhaps the absence of violins in this piece allowed more room for the players to spread out. 

As a busy orchestral musician earlier in his career, Spanish flautist Jaime Martin made very few solo or chamber music recordings. However, I did find one on my shelf - Mozart's D-major Flute Quartet with the Brindisi Quartet on EMI (1997). Listening to it again after all these years, I was struck by Martin's sparkling, resplendently singing flute tone. But even more, I was reminded why I've always loved this recording so much - the sheer joy expressed in the playing of this happiest of Mozart works is simply irrepressible. And I was absolutely certain his bright, energetic and joyous flute playing would carry over with him onto the podium. And it certainly does, as evidenced by this Brahms CD. Martin has retired from flute playing and currently holds principal conducting positions with the National Symphony Orchestra of Ireland and the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra. He was also recently appointed Chief Conductor of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra as well. This Brahms recording was made during his previous tenure with the Gavle (Sweden) Symphony Orchestra (2013-2022). 
     
While this isn't the very best recording of the Brahms Serenades you can find, it's very nicely done. And coming after the aforementioned Mirare disc, I enjoyed it very much.     

Pentatone is reinventing itself. Once the label for state-of-the-art recorded sound and SACD technology, new management was brought in a couple years ago to take the company in a new direction. They are now branching out into streaming and digital downloads and far, far away from the superiority of SACD. And what discs they do produce now are mostly standard CDs. While I am grateful they're still making some CDs, I am disheartened they seem to have all but abandoned their specialty - the format which put them on the map in the first place and distinguished them from most other labels. And along with it, the pride they once had in producing the best-sounding Classical recordings in the world.

It's a sign of the times I guess. And an attempt to survive. But that doesn't mean I have to agree with it. I have been critical of Pentatone's seemingly misguided decision-making of late and have avoided the label's titles for quite some time. Not necessarily because of the absence of SACD, but of the uninteresting and unappealing repertoire they've been putting out. 

Until now.

Pentatone has a new look these days. Fresh, attractive, enticing. And when I saw this new release of Ligeti's String Quartets, I had to have it. Definitely for the music, but also because its striking cover picture captured my interest. These musicians looking right into the lens of the camera is certainly "eye-catching" and impossible to overlook. I wasn't familiar with Quatuor Diotima, but as I have been extremely impressed lately with two other French string quartets (Quatuor Hanson and Quatuor Van Kuijk), I was very interested to see (hear) what they could do. That this release is a standard-issue stereo CD didn't deter me a bit. 

And immediately, I was struck by the clarity of the sound and sheer presence of the musicians. And oh my goodness, this string quartet is fantastic! I love my favorite American string quartets (Dover, Escher, Pacifica) but I am also loving the latest batch of current-day French ones too (named above). And from the get-go, I was impressed by the precision of ensemble and muscular dynamics of the Diotima - in the same ways I have been impressed with the Hanson and Van Kuijk.

The more I listened, the more I was drawn into Ligeti's Bartok-influenced First Quartet. Primarily because it's not all Bartok, as can so often be the case. Oh it definitely lives up to its nickname, "Bartok's 7th", while taking Bartok a giant leap ahead. But as played here, this is most assuredly, unmistakably Ligeti. And that's what makes this recording of it exceptional. And almost unique. The Quatuor Hanson do it as well, on their 2021 Aparte album, "Not All Cats Are Gray", bringing many of the same qualities. Hearing this new one, and instantly being reminded of the Hanson's, I knew I must compare the two recordings back to back.

But before I do, I must say that Pentatone still knows what they're doing in the recording studio. This is one fantastic-sounding CD! Not for an instant did I wish it were SACD. There is stunning focus and presence, especially in pianissimos. While at full fortissimo, the sound is powerful and commanding, yet refined. The booklet shows a picture of the enormous hall used for these recordings, and the spaciousness and immenseness of it are apparent in the recorded sound. The ambience surrounding the musicians is positively alive. The group is intimately placed within it, affording the listener a prime seat near the front. We get all the hall acoustics with the immediacy and "you are there" realness of the musicians sitting right in front of us - without them ever being in the slightest forward or thrust out into the room. It's just natural. And stunningly 3-dimensional. There were even a few instances where I was startled with how real - and present - a 2nd violin or cello line sounded, catching my attention from within the musical fabric. It was as if the player was literally right there in my listening room with me. To hear that kind of spooky realism from a stereo CD was unexpected.

As good as the Quatuor Diotima is - and they are absolutely sensational - comparing them to the Quatuor Hanson on Aparte in the First Quartet reveals the latter to be even more spectacular. But it's a very close race.

First, the recorded sound accounts for the most striking differences. Aparte's sound for the Hanson is more atmospheric, slightly more distanced and spacious. Pentatone's for Diotima is more upfront - the close microphones revealing more texture to string tone and bowing. I had to adjust the volume up 2 notches for the Aparte to compare fairly to the Pentatone. With those technical differences identified and with the volume adjusted accordingly with each back and forth listen, I was able to appreciate subtle musical differences more acutely. While the two performances are strikingly similar, there is just something absolutely incredible - something extraordinary - about the Hansons which is difficult to describe. But I'll try. 

It's really two things: dynamics and the vivid characterization of each varying section of music. With the Hanson, there is a startling suddenness of dynamic contrasts in their playing which creates a spellbinding sense of anticipation of what's coming next. This makes for an involvement which draws the listener in, which is unmatched in my experience listening to recordings of string quartet playing. Along with it comes an engaging energy - a propulsion - in their playing of the vigorous sections which is very exciting, and allows them to then create the most mesmerizing, otherworldly atmosphere in the quieter sections which follow. These pronounced contrasts in the music capture the imagination and interest of the listener with riveting results.

The Quatuor Diotima, on the other hand, displays many of these same characteristics, if not quite as strikingly. But they come very close and bring many insights of their own. They too exhibit superb dynamic contrasts and their playing is slightly more nuanced. They excel at texture, color and body of tone - all of which are marvelously alluring. Their performance overall is just as engaging and musically involving as the Hanson's - in slightly different ways, as one would expect.

Generalizations aside, comparing passages back to back is enlightening. In the two opening sections for example, despite the slightly more distant perspective, the Hansons are absolutely gripping - instantly more energetic and decisive. However, the Diotima more closely follow Ligeti's directions in the tempo indications - grazioso (in the Allegro) and capriccioso (in the Vivace). These qualities bring a delectable character to the music that the Hansons don't quite convey. Contrarily, later in the Valse (marked con eleganza and poco capriccioso), the Hansons bring out the capriccioso, while the Diotima are more eleganza. A notable and fascinating difference. (The Hansons are so coquettish here, I almost laughed out loud!) Tempos are very similar throughout.

And so it goes with comparisons. While detecting subtle differences in interpretation, ultimately none of it matters all that much. Both readings are so compelling, deciding which of the two I prefer is impossible. So it may very well come down to couplings for the collector wanting just one. In the case of the Hanson, I wouldn't want to be without their magnificent Dutilleux Ainsi la nuit. But the Diotima couples theirs, perhaps more logically, with Ligeti's Second. For me, duplicating the First, for all the insight and subtle musical differences described above, is worth every penny. The couplings are equally treasurable in both programs and simply provide more music to enjoy. 

Getting back to the present recording, we move ahead 15 years to Ligeti's Second Quartet, where his sound has transformed unrecognizably. No longer even resembling anything remotely tonal, we enter the soundworld of Penderecki, whose own second quartet was written the same year as Ligeti's (in 1968). Actual pitches are not particularly important other than to create dissonance or hazy, undulating ambiance. Instead, purely atmospheric sound effects, frenzied indistinct passagework, rhythmic pulses, dynamic extremes and wild bowing effects predominate the piece. However, unlike Penderecki, who relies heavily on interpretation of his score comprised almost entirely of symbols, wavy lines and dictated instructions, Ligeti notates with meticulous precision exactly what he wants. In fact, some pages are absolutely black with dizzying flurries of notes, extreme dynamic indications and prescribed bowing effects. And similar to the Penderecki, the experience is mesmerizing and positively intoxicating. I even envisioned a prescience of what would later become George Crumb's Black Angels, composed just 2 years later. There are many icy effects in the very highest registers, along with unimaginable bowing requirements and extremes of dynamics which portend that work.

One of my favorite sections comes in the 3rd movement (meccanismo di precisione) where Ligeti turns to pizzicato, ingeniously notating each member of the quartet working against each other. With pizzicatos utilized solely as sound-effects, he begins with a series of gentle rhythms deliberately out of sync (4 against 3, 5 against 4, etc.), sounding at first almost like a light rain beginning to fall. The speed and intensity soon increase until a rhythmic frenzy ensues. It's as if a perfectly aligned machine goes off the rails and its mechanical precision becomes broken, eventually slowing it to a halt.

The Presto which follows is furioso indeed (as marked) but also slightly less discordant than usual. It's not pretty by any measure, but it isn't ugly just to be ugly. The rich tonal blend of the Quatuor Diotima actually makes it sound more "chordal" than it usually is. The emphasis here is on brute rhythmic force rather than grisly dissonance.

The final Allegro begins with a hint of tonality (rocking minor thirds in a sort of D# minor) before swirling off into otherworldly atmospheres. If Holst had conceived a final planet in his suite, I could imagine this music becoming the genesis of "Pluto", misting away into the farthest expanse of the universe. What an incredible creation this is.

Purely as a recorded performance in a home listening environment, the dynamic extremes of this piece can present challenges, particularly in those passages which are played so softly - at such a whisper - they are virtually inaudible. Much can be said for the ability to play softly and this group is breathtaking in this regard, especially under the close scrutiny of Pentatone's microphones. But also to their credit, the sound is still perceptible - but just barely. I understand the marking is often ppp, but ultimately just a breath more presence might have been beneficial. But I'm nitpicking; there is no denying the dynamics are stunning as played (and recorded) here. And the Pentatone engineer doesn't give in to the temptation to "help" at all. What is played is what is captured - in all its natural, magnificent glory.

Snuggled in between the two quartets on this CD is a little piece titled, simply, Andante and Allegretto. Written just a couple years before the 1st quartet (in 1950), it comes from his early Hungarian period and is unexpectedly tuneful and eloquent in ways his quartets are not. There is a plaintive simplicity in the opening which eventually expands into brief, richly rhapsodic episodes quite unlike anything I've heard from this composer. And the Allegretto is a jaunty jig - exhibiting true charm, with airy, sparse scoring continuing the simplicity of the Andante. If Ligeti's first quartet sounds like Bartok and his second like Penderecki, this delightful gem sounds like his teacher, Zoltan Kodaly. 

If I were to quibble about anything, it would be the placement of this piece in between the two quartets. Musically and chronologically it should have come first, to better illustrate Ligeti's creative progression. But this is easily remedied with the remote control.

In the end, comparing the Quatuor Diotima favorably to the Quatuor Hanson in the First Quartet is very high praise indeed. I can also place them firmly the equal of the Artemis Quartet in the Second (1999, Virgin Records). Virgin provided the Artemis some of their very best recorded sound and this has been my go-to favorite of the piece for ages. It is logically coupled with Ligeti's First as well, to great advantage. 

I haven't heard all the available recordings of these works (although there aren't that many), but of the ones I have, many have left me unmoved. Which makes the recordings discussed here completely, thoroughly, absolutely indispensable. Moreover, the excellent booklet with this Pentatone CD is invaluable. It includes thorough notes about the composer and his music, along with an interesting examination of the hall in which the recording was made, and an essay from the musicians themselves - providing a fascinating glimpse into how they approached this music. (I wonder, does all this information somehow come with a digital download of this program?)

I'm pleased to say I'm actually excited about the Pentatone label again.