This CD was a challenge to get my hands on. It is currently available only as a download (or streaming), and though the CD has been listed on Presto for a few weeks, it has suffered continual delays and continues to be listed as “out of stock”. Finally through some perseverance, I obtained a copy in the mail directly from my wonderful, trusted contact at FARAO Classics. And I’m so glad we worked that out! This release is an absolute gem and definitely worth the effort, if not the frustration of simply trying to purchase it. 
 
I have thoroughly enjoyed the 4 previous recordings from Ensemble Arabesques, all of them notable for rare repertoire, superlative playing, and some of the very best recorded sound I’ve ever heard of a chamber ensemble. And this newest release is no different.
 
I was not familiar with any of this music (or even this composer, for that matter)1, and I decided to listen in the opposite order as presented on the CD - thus starting with the fewest numbers of players (Septet) and increasing as I went, rather than the other way around. (That just seemed to make sense to me.) Curiously, the booklet is unclear as to the actual instrumentation for each piece. In fact, the booklet doesn’t describe the individual pieces at all! - no program notes of any kind, not even composition dates or Opus numbers - merely providing a concise history of the composer. How odd, especially for music which is almost completely unknown and not otherwise available on CD. The personnel for the entire ensemble of 11 players is listed, but no real attempt is made to clarify who plays on what piece. It was easy to determine just by listening that the double bass only appears in the Nonetto, and each subsequent piece reduces the number of players, one at a time, on inner voices (clarinet, bassoon, maybe horn).
 
But in the end, it doesn’t really matter, for all this music is pleasant and charming, and the minor variations in instrumentation are insignificant (other than the bass in the Nonetto). And as already mentioned, the playing and recorded sound are as good as it gets.
 
Theodore Gouvy was born in Prussia, but his education took place in Paris. Thus he is considered a “French/German” composer, and has been described as kind of a “French Beethoven”. And I do hear perhaps some of that description in his music (which I will get to in a moment), but it's rather more "modern" and congenial than Beethoven. All of this music was written later in life, in rather close succession, within a span of about 10 years (1883-1893). The Septet comes squarely in the middle, though it appears last on the CD, and it was with it I began listening. And instantly - I mean from the very first notes of the opening Adagio - I hear the unmistakable, delectable, shimmering blend of Ensemble Arabesques. It is the very essence of lovely, enhanced by the glowing acoustics of the venue (Immanuel church in Wuppertal, north Germany). The sound is instantly recognizable as being this ensemble; it can be no other. And that is quite amazing! I'm instantly drawn into the music, and soon, the Adagio gives way to an Allegro, which is launched with a lively buoyancy somewhat reminiscent of Mendelssohn - brilliantly scored.2 And the recording positively sparkles on top of the inner glow from within.
 
And if I thought that was charming, the Scherzo is even more so - positively delightful and joyous - again brilliantly scored. This group excels at characterizing the various moods in the music - bubbling with playful effervescence at the beginning, then switching gears notably for the more pesante, somewhat Beethovian, pastorale central section. The Andante features an elegant clarinet solo, while the Finale is a jaunty, marching Allegro in minor key, with an infectious rhythmic tune (often as a duet) over bouncing octaves in the bassoon. Its very tunefulness is even a bit dramatic before eventually turning into the Major mode to end the piece.

And we’re off to a fantastic start.
 
The middle work on the CD, “Serenade Octet”, actually sounds very similar - so much so, it could almost be a continuation of the same piece. I had trouble identifying it though, as it isn’t listed on Wikipedia (which I had to resort to, since the booklet fails to mention it at all). Searching further, I did find on IMSLP a “Serenade in G Major” (for 8 wind instruments) from 1893, with no Opus number. This is likely what is played here, as I determined it is indeed in the key of G. It is very similar to the Septet in flavor and character (and scoring), though perhaps a touch more Beethovian still. The opening Pastorale is lyrical and tuneful, sunny and smiling, with a charm to it that almost hints at Dvorak (along with Beethoven). The same can be said of the Intermezzo which follows. But the Canzonetta is different, featuring a melancholy oboe in minor key. This section is more serious, yet attractively lyrical, with Beethoven bearing an even stronger influence. The final Rondo is more Dvorakian still, curiously remaining in the minor as it marches along in a kind of call to action, before finally emerging in the Major for a triumphant ending. If this piece is not quite as original as the Septet, it is pleasant enough - just not quite as distinctively memorable.
 
Finally going back to the beginning of the program for the 1883 Nonetto, we hear nearly the entire group - flute, oboe (just one), pairs of clarinets, horns and bassoons, and, most notably, a double bass. The opening "Introduction and Allegro" is by far the longest movement in any of these works (9-1/2 minutes) and the bass viol is instantly an obvious (and perhaps unwelcome, at least to these ears) addition to the ensemble. As the music progresses, a glorious horn solo emerges, clear as a bell (and gloriously played here), with a touch of Beethovian grandeur. Eventually it leads to the Allegro, which is bustling and vibrant - spirited without being frivolous - and is perhaps the most similar to Beethoven of any music heard on this program. And the double bass is as light-footed as it can possibly be played (mostly pizzicato), but remains a constant presence, adding just a touch of heaviness to the music.3
 
The Intermezzo Polonaise is a delightful, kind of slow, waltz with hints of Tchaikovsky (his lighter Orchestral Suites, for example). The bass is bowed here, but gracefully so, and it’s actually better integrated. And the flutist switches to piccolo in this section, adding a very welcome sparkle to the music. The Elegie, in striking contrast, is thoughtfully songful, and even more reminiscent of Tchaikovsky. It features oboe and clarinet solos over a rolling, arpeggiated bassoon foundation, punctuated by the ever-present double bass pizzs thumping along underneath. The Finale, then, is sprightly and vivacious, with lots of fast double-tonguing propelling the music - effortlessly articulated by these fine musicians. And the bass seems even less imposing during this nimble little movement. (Perhaps I’m just getting used to its presence at this point.) This is utterly delightful, and one marvels at the expert playing, as they bring to a close a thoroughly enjoyable piece which deserves to be better known. I actually wish they had concluded the program with this - but that’s just me.
 
Finally, in closing, I must once again mention the recorded sound, which is a crucial element in the overall enjoyment of this release. It is instantly recognizable as the characteristic house sound of FARAO Classics - clear, open and spacious, with the group shimmering, yet perfectly focused, within a lustrous, glowing acoustic. The sheer beauty of sound is a constant pleasure to listen to, and the realism of musicians in the room is stunning - as if the listener has been transported to the hall in which they play. All thoughts of the electronics involved evaporate, as one is thoroughly immersed in the musicmaking. This is how you record musicians in a reverberant acoustic. 
 
I hope the availability issues with this CD get resolved soon. For even if this music isn’t necessarily your cup of tea (though I think almost anyone would enjoy it), you should try to hear this recording from FARAO Classics - if for no other reason than to experience truly wonderful ensemble playing and truly fantastic recorded sound.4 It is the very epitome of a state-of-the-art recording of chamber music. This disc skyrockets to my 2026 "Best of Year" list - and it’s only February!
 
1 While waiting for a copy of this disc, I obtained the recent CPO box set of Gouvy's 6 Symphonies and got to know his music a little bit. They are enjoyable and enlightening works, several of which are quite excellent and musically rewarding
2 As near as I can tell: flute, oboe, 2 clarinets, 2 horns and a bassoon.
3 This observation is not a reflection on the playing or the recording; it's inherent in the scoring itself. And I can't help but wonder why Gouvy would add a double bass to a small group of winds playing such charming music in the first place. I admit, however, listening to this recording again on another day, I was much less distracted by it. 
4 I can't imagine the download doing it full justice.  

I was thrilled to see this new recording from the Pacifica Quartet on Cedille Records - no extraneous "extras" like on their previous two "America-themed" releases (a clarinet on American Stories and a children's choir (groan) on American Voices). Here we have an entire album of pure, good old-fashioned string quartet music - the 3 glorious creations by Erich Wolfgang Korngold - made especially valuable as they had the inspired motivation to also include the same composer’s String Sextet and Piano Quintet on the 2nd disc.
 
The bad news is that this release, like American Voices, is only available in CD format directly from Cedille Records. (Or, you can stream it if that’s your thing; it’s not mine.) But the price was reasonable and, as I recall, shipping was included. It arrived quickly, in about 3 or 4 days, so it worked out fine.
 
I had gotten to know the Korngold Quartets primarily from the Doric String Quartet’s survey for Chandos (2010-12). And even more with the Tippett Quartet’s 2021 recording for Naxos. Still, it was admiration rather than true love. It wasn’t until I heard the Alma Quartet’s recordings on Challenge Classics a couple years ago that I began to truly love this music - especially as their reading of the Piano Quintet was exceptionally good. But sadly they did not record the String Sextet. It is cause for celebration then that the Pacifica includes them all, and their playing is arguably the best of the bunch. (More on this below.)
 
The Pacifica Quartet, based in Bloomington, Indiana, has been around a while. (I was going to say “forever”; 30 years really is a long time.) Formed in 1994, husband and wife team Simin Ganatra (1st violin) and Brandon Vamos (cello) have remained constant members throughout the decades. Amazingly, they have maintained the consistent, characteristic Pacifica Quartet sound - warm, expressive and beautifully blended - through various members on the inner voices which have come and gone along the way. The current 2nd violin (Austin Hartman) and violist (Mark Holloway) joined the group in 2017. And as good as the group has always been, they surely have reached peak perfection with the current roster.
 
And this album is, quite simply, glorious. I could end the review right here and conclude simply, "Anyone interested in Korngold chamber music absolutely must acquire this." But I suppose I should also add a few comments as to why I would suggest that. And even this can be summed up succinctly: music aside, the playing here is magnificent - expressive, characterful, dynamic, articulate and beautifully blended. As is the recorded sound, which is absolutely lovely - warm, colorful, detailed and positively glowing.
 
Beginning with the String Quartets, it would be difficult to guess this as any other composer than Korngold. Though it’s not always like his film music, or even his famous violin concerto, there is something about the quirky rhythmic energy, alternating with lyrical melodic lines, over a rich, expansive harmonic freedom which makes this music easily identifiable as being pure Korngold. Yet each Quartet is fascinatingly different from one another.
 
The 1st, written in 1924, is rather nervous and at times playful, but with aching lyrical lines - music which reminds me occasionally of the Richard Strauss of Till Eulenspiegel. Its very tunefulness and rhythmic propulsion also remind me of Korngold’s film-scores yet to come, and also of his violin concerto more than 20 years in the future! There is a rich harmonic tapestry to this music which sounds decidedly Austrian. It is gorgeously played here; this music suits the Pacifica’s rich blend and expressive musicality beautifully.
 
The 2nd Quartet of 1933 is lighter, coquettish even - airier and more transparent in its scoring, and somewhat simpler in harmonic density. It’s imbued with more variety of mood, with elements of tantalizing good humor frequently bubbling to the surface. It’s downright playful in the charming Intermezzo. Even more than before, this music instantaneously becomes unmistakably Korngold. And the finale is the very definition of charming. The vividly characterized and truly characterful playing of the Pacifica Quartet is absolutely dazzling. This music leaps to life in such a whimsical, delightful, engaging way, it becomes a true masterpiece - making one wonder why this isn’t a staple of the string quartet repertoire.
 
The 3rd Quartet, written in 1944 after Korngold moved to Hollywood, gets us ever closer to the sound of his famous Violin Concerto of 1945. And as it utilizes themes from some of his film music, that opening Allegro moderato begins to sound even more familiar than the earlier works. And the jaunty, jagged Scherzo is simply brilliant - and sounds to be terribly difficult to play, especially the 1st violin part. You should hear Ms. Ganatra play this with such effortless virtuosity. She truly is the heart and soul of the Pacifica Quartet, demonstrating phenomenal bravura.
 
It's a pity the 6-minute final movement wouldn’t fit on the first CD, which plays for 78 minutes without it.1 And with both the Piano Quintet and String Sextet contained on the 2nd disc, it plays for over 70 minutes as well. So the interruption is unavoidable. (Kind of like back in the days of LP when you had to get up and flip the record over in the middle of a piece.) But it doesn’t really matter all that much; this Allegro is a quirky thing, vaguely reminiscent of William Walton, which can kind of stand on its own anyway. It features writing for the entire group in multiple octaves pronouncing the main theme, followed by jagged ostinato motifs played in octave violins over agitated figures in the viola and cello, alternating with the same in reverse instrumentation. It ends with a virtuosic, rhythmic flourish (which sounds really difficult to play). Once heard, the insistent, rhythmic figures throughout this movement are impossible to forget. In fact, they tend to get stuck in your head for the rest of the day. (In a good way!) 
 
I must mention here that the recorded sound of the 3rd Quartet is not quite as gloriously silky and airy as heard in the first two; the group sounds just slightly darker and a touch confined. Curious why, I checked the booklet, which reveals the 3rd Quartet and the Piano Quintet were both recorded a year earlier with a different engineer. And it is in the Piano Quintet (which comes next on the CD) where the Alma Quartet’s recording on Challenge Classics edges ahead, due in large part to the recorded sound. Listening to pianist Severin von Eckardstein and the Alma Quartet, the music is notably fresher and more alive, with the piano afforded a bigger, more important prominence. And the piece seems to benefit from that. In comparison, the sound on Cedille is ever so slightly congested, with the piano recessed back within a slightly murky acoustic, relegated almost to an accompanying role.2 Nevertheless, it is played with accomplishment and much sensitivity here by pianist Orion Weiss. And to put it in perspective, this isn’t serious, and isn’t seriously detrimental to the enjoyment of the piece as played by the Pacifica Quartet. It’s just…different.
 
And it doesn't help that the CD places it immediately following the 3rd Quartet's invigorating finale, as it is a bigger, heavier, more serious work, written in Germany more than 10 years earlier. Germanic in nature (even the movement tiles are in German), the opening movement displays lots of grand, sweeping themes in the strings over chordal accompaniment in the piano, while the Adagio consists of an extensive, almost Wagnerian set of variations. The Finale, after an intense pronouncement of the main theme by unisono strings and a dramatic violin cadenza, becomes much more lighthearted, good-humored even, and is even more reminiscent of Walton with its spiky, almost awkward, complex rhythms driving the melodies forward.  
 
The recorded sound returns to gloriousness when we come to the String Sextet, which was recorded several months later with the same engineer as the first two Quartets. And I was absolutely ecstatic to see the group is joined for this recording by violist Milena Pajaro-van de Stadt, formerly of the Dover Quartet.3 (Eric Kim, former principal cello of the Cincinnati Symphony, is the 2nd cellist.) With this lineup, it’s no wonder it's absolutely fabulous.
 
The Sextet was composed while Korngold was still in his teens - nearly 10 years before his Piano Quintet. It is flavored with Brahms in the opening Moderato (even the Allegro is rhapsodic rather than overtly energetic), and Mahler in the Adagio. But the youthful Korngold begins to spread his wings in the charming, if somewhat clumsy, waltz-like Intermezzo (con grazia), and the Presto finale is one of his most exuberant creations, with an indication to be played “as fast as possible with fire and humor”. The Pacificas do just that, but never sound breathless, allowing time for the singing lines to soar over the scampering bustle. 
 
All in all, this set from the Pacifica Quartet is an absolute treasure. It is surely the most completely satisfying recording of this music ever committed to disc. And as I mentioned above, it’s better played than most. First and foremost, the Pacifica Quartet is more characterful and capricious than any other recording of it I’ve heard. They play with a wider dynamic range and crisper articulation than the Almas (for example), highlighting the temperamental contrasts in moods and variety of articulation and dynamic markings, bringing the music vividly to life. And they infuse the music with a glamorous, rhapsodic beauty which was somewhat curtailed with the Tippetts. The Doric Quartet was perhaps in the same ballpark (and they, too, recorded both the Piano Quintet and String Sextet along with the Quartets), though it's been years since I’ve listened to that set.

Finally, the recorded sound from Cedille is as lovely as it gets. It's sumptuous when it needs to be, but airy and transparent at the same time. Only the Piano Quintet brings slight reservations in this regard (as noted above), but it is inconsequential when considering this set as a whole, for the musicmaking is simply exquisite. And the entire production is first-class, including a very informative booklet with in-depth details about the composer, the music and the musicians.

As I stated earlier, this recording is a must for anyone who enjoys Korngold’s chamber music. But even more than that, it is a must for anyone who enjoys superb string quartet playing. The Pacifica Quartet has always been one of the best quartets around, but they have outdone themselves with this one.

1 The Dorics (Chandos) and Tippetts (Naxos) both manage to fit the entirety of all 3 Quartets on one CD, with total playing times of 80' and 77' respectively.
2 The booklet tells us the hall is the same in all these recordings, so I must ascribe this anomaly to ill-advised microphone placement for the piano.
3 Milena was an original founding member of the Dover Quartet, playing with them from 2008-2022, before moving on to “other things”. And, frankly, the group has never been the same. (I’m so grateful they finished recording their complete Beethoven cycle before she left.) After going through 2 or 3 successive violists, the group now seems in peril as their latest violist (Julianne Lee) left to rejoin the Boston Symphony, and shortly thereafter, 1st violinist Joel Link was named concertmaster of the Cleveland Orchestra. So it's uncertain where that leaves the 2 remaining members, Bryan Lee (2nd violin) and Camden Shaw (cello). We shall see.

After a rather ho-hum start to the year, there ended up being many, many wonderful new releases - many fully deserving a “Best of the Year” accolade. And even though there were lots of fair-to-middlin’ releases throughout the year, surprisingly few were truly awful. However, there were some - none more so than the most anticipated new recording of Walton’s First Symphony to appear in decades (from John Wilson). And it was a letdown of colossal proportions.
 
Fortunately, the glorious ones far outnumber the duds. And I was pleased some of the very best featured string quartets. New groups playing Ligeti and Bacewicz; fantastic new string quartet music from Fazil Say and English composer Joseph Phibbs; and an honorable mention of the complete music for string quartet by American John Zorn. (There's also a marvelous new recording from the Pacifica Quartet playing Korngold on a 2-CD set from Cedille, which I haven't had a chance to review yet.)
 
Meanwhile on the orchestral front, conductor JoAnn Falletta and her Buffalo Philharmonic lead the way with two outstanding new recordings. And as expected, Chandos garners two “best-ofs” again this year for some of the most spectacular recorded sound of a full symphony orchestra you'll hear (Bacewicz orchestral works and the first Walton release featuring the Violin Concerto).
 
I have cherry picked the best one-liners from my reviews to include here, but I encourage those interested to reread the entire original reviews of these marvelous releases, as I can’t do them justice in simple little snippets.
 
Best of the Year
Marmen Quartet plays Ligeti and Bartok - BIS
Now THIS is Ligeti! I haven’t been this excited about a new recording since Quatuor Diotima’s Ligeti (on Pentatone) 2 years ago.
 
Joseph Phibbs String Quartets - Piatti Quartet/RTF-Nimbus Alliance
It is rare to hear something completely new that is so completely satisfying. The Piatti Quartet’s playing of these String Quartets is beyond awesome; it’s out of this world.
 
Karski Quartet plays Bacewicz - Evil Penguin
When it all comes together, as it most certainly does here in the 4th Quartet (slightly less so in the coupled 1st Piano Quintet), you have one hell of a recording.
 
Fazil Say chamber music - Friedemann Eichhorn/Naxos
All in all, this is another splendid recording of original chamber music by Fazil Say. Though the coupling, his new (2nd) Violin Concerto, is decidedly inferior and uninteresting.

The French in Spain -  JoAnn Falletta/Buffalo Philharmonic/Naxos 
A spectacular orchestral recording from the fabulous JoAnn Falletta and her terrific Buffalo Philharmonic, featuring dazzling performances of Spanish-themed repertoire on Naxos. This is without doubt one of Falletta’s most exciting records ever. 
 
Korngold music for String Quartet - Pacifica Quartet/Cedille (review forthcoming)
 
Honorable Mention (Best)
Walton Violin Concerto - Charlie Lovell-Jones/Wilson/Chandos
This was so good, it made us think (hope) Wilson might actually do the 1st Symphony well. Sigh…
 
Bacewicz Orchestral Works Vol 2 - Oramo/BBC Symphony Orchestra/Chandos
Just as good as their 1st Volume. Marvelous music and impressive orchestral playing with superb recorded sound.

Contemporary Landscapes - JoAnn Falletta/Buffalo Philharmonic/BPO
All new music (4 world premieres) on the BPO’s own label, with absolutely sensational orchestral playing. Best of all is the recorded acoustic, surely one of the most luxurious orchestra halls in the world.
 
Tchaikovsky Suites 1 & 2 - Julien-Laferriere/Orchestre Consuelo/Mirare
An amazing improvement over this group's earlier Brahms recording. This is thoroughly rewarding Tchaikovsky - passionate, heartfelt and exciting. 
 
John Zorn complete music for string quartet - JACK Quartet/Tzadik
An incredible string quartet playing some unimaginably difficult music.
 
**********************************************************************************************************************************
 
The WORST of the year gives us a little bit of everything that can be bad about the Classical recording industry. We have: a) terrible music that shouldn’t have been recorded (Marsalis in Detroit and Thomas Ades at the Halle; plus a couple others I explored in my third “Meh” survey); b) inept recorded sound that shouldn’t have been released on CD (Tchaikovsky 6 in Liverpool; and a Dvorak Cello Concerto from the most unusual and utterly ridiculous of sources - the San Francisco Ballet); and c) abysmal performances that should never have seen the light of day (Bartok Piano Concertos from Capriccio).
 
And then there’s Chandos, which usually scores big, but when they flop, they flop big! They earn the award for the #1 absolute worst recording of the year, with their star conductor and his razzle-dazzle studio orchestra sightreading their way through Walton’s 1st Symphony. And that’s not all! Chandos also manages to achieve two honorable mentions for mediocrity in Russian repertoire - featuring, you guessed it, John Wilson (again) in Rachmaninoff; along with another one of their very own homeboys, Alpesh Chauhan in Tchaikovsky - both very British, very non-Russian conductors, neither of which, frankly, should ever be allowed anywhere near a Russian score. But Chandos just can’t help themselves. They let Wilson do whatever he wants. I get that; he sells a ton of CDs. But in the case of Chauhan, one wonders why? Who even is he? Why does Chandos keep recording his run-of-the-mill Tchaikovsky?
 
Worst of the Year
Walton Symphony #1 - Wilson/Sinfonia of London/Chandos.
Wilson has made some bad recordings before, but this one takes the cake. Wilson has zero conception of the piece, zero interpretative vision, and his orchestra breezes through it without giving it a second thought. This is as underpowered a reading as you could ever imagine, and not even Chandos' recorded sound could salvage it. From my review: “Even by basic, professional orchestral standards, this orchestra fails to deliver.” The Chandos producers must have realized this as well, and curiously give the coupled Cello Concerto top billing on the cover. How odd.
 
Marsalis Blues Symphony - Bignamini/Detroit/Pentatone.
Why Bignamini chose this for his debut recording with the Detroit Symphony is mystifying. It shows neither conductor or orchestra at anything close to being a world class outfit. And it isn’t even musically satisfying. From my review: “That this blues thing goes on for over an hour is absurd. It’s amusing for about the first 5 minutes before becoming tedious, repetitive and interminably boring.”
 
Thomas Ades at the Halle
I covered this one in my recent “Meh Part 3" survey. Nonsensical music which never does anything and utterly boring orchestral playing which never sparks any interest pretty much sums it up.
 
Bartok Piano Concertos - Barto/Eschenbach/Capriccio
Tedious monotony. ​Bartok piano concertos in Berlin played by a body-builder pianist from Florida. Why Capriccio brought this to market is unconscionable. But they did - music be damned. And they even had to spread it out onto 2 CDs. Absolute absurdity.
 
Tchaikovsky Symphony #6 - Hindoyan/Liverpool/Onyx
Disingenuous at best, deceitful at worst, this release from Onyx combines an older, poorly recorded live reading of a lackluster, uninvolving Tchaikovsky 6th with a wonderful new session recording of his Souvenir de Florence. Onyx repeated this formula in their latest Liverpool release, Iberia, and I simply don’t understand why. This orchestra deserves better. 
 
Dvorak Cello Concerto - John Henry Crawford/Orchid Classics
Why would this promising young cellist hook up with this conductor (Martin West) and an ill-suited ballet orchestra (in San Francisco) to record a concerto in a cramped film studio (Skywalker soundstage) with amateur engineering? That Orchid Classics would have anything to do with this is bewildering. 
 
Rosza/Bartok Violin Concertos - Simovic/LSO
Once again I’m amused by British reviews of Simovic’s dull violin concertos when they write inexplicable, irresponsible comments like: “He plays with great panache” and “There is real fire in his bow.” NO he DOESN’T and NO there ISN’T! What are they even listening to? It’s the very absence of panache and fire in his bow that makes this about as boring a concert as you’d ever try to stay awake through. That these come from live performances is unbelievable.
 
Honorable Mention (Worst)
Tchaikovsky Orchestral Works - Chauhan/BBC Scottish SO/Chandos
As mentioned above, this is little more than refined orchestral sightreading prowess on full display. (And to be fair, this orchestra sightreads extremely well.) Chauhan has no real vision or concept of this music, churning out perfunctory (though well-played) read-throughs with little insight. And for unknown reasons, Chandos continues to show up with their microphones. (And again, to be fair, the recorded sound is, for the most part, superb.) 
 
Rachmaninoff Symphony #1/Symphonic Dances - Wilson/Sinfonia of London/Chandos
If not quite the colossal failure as his Walton 1, Wilson's Rach 1 comes pretty close. (And his Symphonic Dances is the worst of all.) I came away thinking this sounds more British than Russian, and in Rachmaninoff, that isn’t good. Nor is the recorded sound. Decidedly mediocre by Chandos standards.

What was Onyx thinking, releasing this right on the heels of JoAnn Falletta’s electrifying Naxos recording of this same theme and repertoire? It would be difficult for any recording to measure up with that still fresh in our minds. And to make matters worse, Hindoyan replaces Ibert’s Escales from Falletta’s program with the most unimaginative, uninteresting, tiresome and completely unnecessary choices possible: Ravel’s Bolero and Pavane. YAWN. That’s what everybody needs, right - yet another Bolero. Even Hindoyan seems fairly disinterested as he rushes through it in well under 15 minutes.1 
 
So why this release? Surely the folks at Onyx are aware of what's going on - who's doing what; what's being marketed by other labels, etc. So why aren't they producing something innovative - like continuing their Music from the Americas series they started with Hindoyan last year with the wonderful Venezuela! release? That would be something we could use and would actually be interested in. But we got this instead.
 
I shouldn't have bought this disc. Plain and simple. After all, I had just listened to the Buffalo Philharmonic playing the hell out of this music. And after Hindoyan’s gloomy, "live" Tchaikovsky 6th on Onyx’s previous release, I should have known better. For just as on that Tchaikovsky CD, Onyx has again underhandedly snuck in some older, live concert stuff with new session recordings on this new release as well. This seems to be the new modus operandi there at Onyx. Apparently they think no one will notice. Or care. Well I noticed. And I care. And I hesitate to buy any more CDs from these guys.2
 
So what kind of mish-mash did Onyx concoct this time? We get some Ravel from live concerts in 2022, and Chabrier and Debussy from session recordings in 2024. And in the title piece, Iberia, Hindoyan plays just the central portion of Debussy’s Images for Orchestra rather than the whole thing. Why? Why can’t we have all three Images? The other 2 would have been infinitely more interesting and musically rewarding than yet another loathsome, redundant Bolero that absolutely no one wants or needs. But, alas, Iberia is all of Debussy's masterpiece we get.3 
 
But Hindoyan starts the concert with the ubiquitous, bubbly Espana by Chabrier. Again, another unimaginative choice, as if just an afterthought to liven up the program with something trivial to fill out the disc. And Hindoyan dutifully plays it just that way. It sounds to be a quick read-through, sightread for the microphones without requiring much effort. Musically, it sounds like he’s trying to make it charming, when what it really needs is some vitality. At least the recorded sound is good, replete with a nicely sparkling piccolo and splendid immediacy from the charismatic trombones. Curiously though, I thought the strings sounded a bit meager in places, which is surprising for this orchestra.
 
The musicmaking perks up noticeably in Iberia, where instantly in the first movement (“through the streets and along the paths”), Hindoyan is much more engaging and displays some delightful characterization in the music. In fact he sounds almost as spontaneous and lively as Falletta. And that’s saying something! And the recording is glamorous - vivid, colorful and atmospheric. Though again I notice the violins sound a bit thin and undernourished, especially up high, which is quite a change from what we normally hear from Hindoyan's strings. What happened to their full-bodied richness of sound? It sounds like they are fewer in number than usual. But the horns show some real character and enthusiasm beginning around Fig 19 (about halfway through) all through to the end, especially in the final measures, with all those little grace notes ringing out proudly. Very nice.
 
Parfums de la nuit is just a bit matter-of-fact, but the playing is sensitive and colorful, featuring exquisite oboe solos. And I like that Hindoyan takes just a bit more time here and there than Falletta does, giving the strings a chance to caress a phrase with real elegance. And in Fete, he’s not quite as rushed as Falletta, which actually results in the strings’ strumming sounding a bit more authentic, if a little less exuberant. Though curiously, even here, they still sound a bit scant in number. And while Hindoyan starts with plenty of gusto, he doesn’t quite keep it going with the same vigor as it progresses, failing to muster the festive energy or sheer excitement in the final measures that Falletta does so spectacularly. And the trombones, which were so characterful earlier in Espana, are oddly timid and reserved here at the end. Yeah I know their octave glissandos are hard (if not impossible) to execute exactly as written, but rushing through it and burying them in the mix isn’t the solution.
 
Speaking of trombones, I just had to jump ahead and listen to Alborada del gracioso next to see if the Liverpool trombones could match their counterparts in Buffalo in yet another glissando there at the end. But before I got there, I heard an impressive bass drum whack near the beginning - which was good. But it became immediately obvious the recorded sound overall is noticeably more distant and less focused than before, revealing this to be one of those earlier (2022) "live" recordings. And Hindoyan is not nearly as spirited or gracioso as Falletta. Nor does he generate nearly the same exhilarating momentum in the final peroration. As for his trombones there at the end - they’re virile enough I guess, especially the 3rd, but not nearly as macho as the Buffalo bones, which are much more effective. Trombones aside, this reading could have used a good deal more verve.
 
And following this boisterous climax with the dead pavane is absolutely absurd. And I use that description literally - this princess sounds about as lifeless as you can get, especially coming here in the program. And seriously, why is it even included here in a Spanish-themed program? I turned it off after barely a minute, and was absolutely loath to listen to a single second of Bolero. So I didn't.
 
I almost forgot to go back to Rapsodie espagnole that I skipped over. But I'm glad I did; it’s actually pretty good. However, in the opening Prelude and later in “Habanera”, it’s hard to match the luscious, colorful, atmospheric acoustic Naxos captures in Buffalo. The Onyx microphones in Liverpool are just a little too close to be optimal, minimizing some of its allure. And even though Hindoyan gives his strings time to luxuriate in the most rapturous passages, they continue to sound a bit thin and not as sumptuous as we have come to expect from them. That this characteristic persists all through this CD is just so very odd.
 
“Malaguena” progresses rather uneventfully, and is fairly representative of what I hear throughout the entire piece - the playing is excellent without being truly distinguished, as is Hindoyan’s involvement with it. He takes a little more time here and there than Falletta does, but is not as musically immersive or vivacious - especially in “Feria”, where Falletta's exhilaration takes one’s breath away. Hindoyan, in comparison, is more reserved and gentlemanly than truly festive. It's well-played, but sounds a bit careful.
 
So to summarize: Espana, Alborada and Rapsodie are good, reliable readings - if ultimately routine compared to the best. Iberia is definitely the standout of the program, musically and sonically, and other than the curiously restrained ending, it really is very good. But on the whole, Hindoyan is no match for Falletta in this music.4 Nor is the programming as imaginative or rewarding. Thinking back about what I've heard on this recording, trying to identify something - anything - truly distinguished or remarkable about it, I simply can't. The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic plays proficiently, reminiscent of their Petrenko days, and I would have welcomed more spontaneity and unbuttoned enthusiasm throughout from them. And I can't help but wonder - is Hindoyan losing his spark already? What has happened to the youthful vitality and dynamism we would expect from him? 

And finally - Onyx really needs to stop with the commingling of old concert material (of dubious sound quality) with new studio recordings from this orchestra, and get back to producing all-new, high-quality recordings of innovative programs people might actually want to hear. A second volume in their Americas series would be a great place to start.

1 Ravel himself stated this piece should last 17 minutes. Just listen to Riccardo Muti's 1982 Philadelphia recording on EMI to hear how it really should go. 
2 As it turns out, the live recordings here sound better than that dismal Tchaikovsky 6 on the earlier release (though still not as good as the studio sessions), so maybe their lack of transparency regarding the source material is not quite as serious as I suspected.
3 To be fair, that's all Falletta gives us in her collection too.
4 That Naxos disc is truly one of her most spectacular and exciting recordings. I've rarely heard her sound so uninhibited on record.

If you think you know what Wilson is going to sound like in Walton’s 1st Symphony, you’re probably right. Though I was hoping against hope he would surprise us and come up with something momentous. Or at least worthwhile. But such is not the case. As fine as this orchestra is at sightreading, this piece needs much more than clinical expertise. And if that seems like a rather cold, harsh description of what this is, well, that’s exactly what it sounds like.
 
But it’s not all bad. The Overture is vivacious and very entertaining. And as I would discover later, the Cello Concerto is quite wonderful. But let’s be real - no one is buying this release for those. So don’t put away your old 1966 Previn RCA CD yet (especially the 2007 24/96 remastering on BMG Japan). It still reigns absolutely supreme. And to be fair, over the ensuing six decades since Previn made that landmark recording, only Slatkin (1988/Virgin/LPO) came even close to matching it.1 A major contributing factor to this, aside from the excellence of the conductors of course, is that Previn had the LSO in its prime at his fingertips, and Slatkin chose the LPO to record the work, rather than his usual St. Louis Symphony. These established, highly experienced London orchestras have this music in their very bones and are second to none in this repertoire. Wilson, on the other hand, uses his hand-picked studio band, who he assembles for studio sessions whenever he gets the random urge to record something. And as good as they are as individual musicians, there’s a problem playing something as difficult as Walton’s 1st Symphony as an ensemble when they aren’t used to playing together.
 
Before we get into that, first I must praise Chandos producer Brian Pidgeon for finally (finally!) figuring out what an overture is. He places the Scapino overture first on the program - where it belongs. And follows it with the concerto - exactly where it belongs. That makes for a perfect first half of the concert; and the disc closes with the symphony, just as it would be programmed in a real concert. Excellent!
 
And Scapino sets the tone of the entire concert. Wilson treats it as a virtuoso showpiece for orchestra. And that’s what this orchestra does best, so why not? It works great in Scapino, though not so much in the symphony (but I’m getting ahead of myself). It’s fast, effervescent, energetic, dynamic, and very exciting. Wilson reveals loads of detail, bringing out every little moving part whether important or not. And he relaxes beautifully in the central section, giving the solo strings a chance to infuse a bit of operatic voluptuousness to their melodic lines (though their vibrato is a bit over the top for this). Best of all, the recorded sound is excellent - replete with full-bodied strings, biting brass, and splendid dynamics.2
 
Anxious to get to the symphony after the scintillating overture, I skipped the cello concerto for now, which to be honest, has never been one of my favorites. I’ll come back to it later.
 
Listening to the symphony, it didn’t take long before I began to hear some strange things going on with balances and dynamics, which were so unexpected, I had to grab my score before I even got to the first climax to see what in the world Wilson was doing. For instance, right from the very beginning, the nervous, rhythmic figures in the 2nd violins are virtually inaudible - completely drowned out by the horns. And where are the accents? They’re sort-of there, but don’t have nearly the crisp articulation or bite that they should. Admittedly, the violins are marked ppp, but so are the horns! So why are their unimportant sustained tones so loud? And then a few bars later, when the 1st violins take up the propulsive staccato 8th-note jumping octaves, they too are ill-defined and fail to propel the music. Conversely, a few bars later, at Fig 6, the horns now are practically inaudible just when they are needed most - at their first fortissimo, with accents, up on high Bbs. Why? I believe there is some not-so-subtle knob-twiddling going on in the control room - which, in a modern recording, is completely unnecessary. This can’t possibly be Wilson’s doing.
 
However, once the record engineer settles down and gets less fidgety with his fingers on the controls, the music begins to unfold more uniformly, and Wilson gets down to business. He reveals some really nice details - such as the cellos at Fig 7, which are marked f and marcato, while the violin busywork is pp. And that’s a differentiation worth noting. And while all those hairpins are not very effectively executed by the strings, the trombones sure hammer them home with plenty of bite and power. Excellent! (If only they would do this more often.) Unfortunately, the first climax at Fig 14 is pretty tame - the strings sound thin and far from ff. And there’s absolutely no tension whatever going into the little mysterious rallentando at Fig 17, and the tuba and 3rd trombone are far from ff leading to the climax. So already, Wilson is failing to build the necessary tension, allowing his orchestra to get lackadaisical with dynamics and articulation.
 
As the movement progresses, (and I really have to stop being quite so detailed in describing it), I hear some lovely sound from the strings - airy and spacious. But the music itself becomes a little matter-of-fact, bland even, as Wilson makes his way through these sections getting to something he likes more. The rhythmic figures in the 2nds and violas are all but lost in the mix, causing the forward flow to lose momentum (along with tension).3 And when arriving at the next climactic point, at Fig 31, it’s not at all climactic - it’s too rushed! Argh. It’s so exasperating to hear Wilson drive headlong through this, rendering it inconsequential. And any hope that he’ll ever generate the necessary tension evaporates. And yet again, at Fig 32, there is no “arrival” (where did the trombones go in this passage marked fffz?!), and the entire brass section wimps out leading to the enormous climax at Fig 33. Are they tired already?
 
The next section relaxes beautifully, and the violins are gorgeous playing their ecstatic ff tune at Fig 34. Now this is better! I know Wilson has it in him to make music like this; why doesn’t he inject this much emotion elsewhere? But, alas, just as I’m getting into it, the ensuing crescendo fails to materialize. And at Fig 40, where oh where are the horns? (Maybe off somewhere with the trombones?) Walton marks them fff and accented - what more indication do they need to play with some power?
 
And this continued lack of dynamic strength from the entire orchestra seriously affects the final few minutes of this movement. Nowhere more devastatingly than the timpani at the very end - which sound so far away from the rest of the orchestra, they might as well be in a different room. Walton marks them fff and accented - and again, what more does he have to do to get their attention? Instead, they are weak, and the dash to the end lacks drive and muscle - thus ruining this most dramatic of climaxes, which should be overwhelming in its unstoppable culmination of everything which has come before it.  
 
Even by basic, professional orchestral standards, this orchestra fails to deliver the powerful, engaging, musical involvement required for this movement. They really do sound like they’re just sightreading this and Wilson is apparently fine with that. (“Ah…it’s good enough.”) I swore under my breath at Wilson for this. (I actually wrote something even worse in my notes.) It’s completely unacceptable.  
 
Moving on to the Scherzo, which should be less demanding of them, it darts off in a flash, but is surely too gossamer. And I immediately question - where are all the accents? Walton goes to great pains marking them everywhere. And that’s for a reason. But Wilson merely skates over the surface in his haste. Malizia? Not even a hint of it. It’s flirtatious, jovial even, as Wilson races off in a flurry of frivolous virtuosity.4 It’s lightweight, and the many sffz and accents are glossed over. The suddenness of dynamic contrasts are smooth rather than jagged, rendering the music innocuous rather than malicious. Worst of all, the gnashing clashes in tonality, beginning just after Fig 60, are much too affable; the brass don't play with enough snarl or bite. (Again, no malice.) And later, just after Fig 67, the hugely dramatic ff (and accented) descending quarter-note exclamations (E-C-E, bum-bum-bum) are polite and timid, and go by without importance. Wilson, as is his wont, sounds like he’s in a great big hurry to get it over with. And in the final measures, even here the brass sound mild-mannered - though you can just make out the horns' quick little gliss there at the end, which I liked.
 
Once again, this sounds like well-trained musicians sightreading their way through this. And, amazingly, they do manage to keep up and get in all the notes in all the right places. But at this speed, they simply don’t have time to take note of all the many dynamic and articulation markings. And Wilson seems content with that. (“Just go with it.”)
 
I was so exasperated at this point, I was hesitant to subject myself to the Andante. But seeing that Wilson breezes through it nearly 2 minutes faster than Previn (!), I thought I could persevere. Plus there is a flute solo from Adam Walker at the beginning to look forward to. And, as expected, he plays it beautifully. But that only lasted so long before Wilson goes on autopilot, and the music sounds matter-of-fact and simply too fast - not quite rushed, but not endearing either. This tempo might have been ok if there was some mystery to it. Or even the slightest bit of affection. But there isn’t. Just as malice was missing in the Presto, emotional involvement is missing here. There’s not much to the climax at Fig 92, and at the Maestoso (Fig 96), where’s the intensity? Or the passion? Wilson just hurries through it in his usual, detached way.
 
And off we go in the finale. This can be difficult to pull off even for the best conductors and ensembles, and Wilson shoots himself in the foot right off the bat in the introduction. Maestoso? Hardly. Wilson is in such a huge hurry to get through this and on to the Allegro, the ff accented sixteenth notes in the strings go by like mush - not even very well executed. It sounds like Wilson wants them all on downbows, but they barely manage a spiccato at this speed, with not enough weight or body of tone to them. And they end up sounding almost comical - ridiculously so. And with the “maestoso” played this fast, Wilson has nowhere left to go but to take off like a jet in the Allegro brioso just to make a distinction between the two. And as in the Scherzo before, there simply is no time for these players to observe all the many dynamics and articulation markings. Thus accents and, especially, sforzandos, go by with little notice. And it’s much too lightweight to be anywhere near ff when called for.
 
There is a fine climax though (Fig 122-123), and the vivacissimo section after that is very well done - mercurial, and even a bit whimsical. But then the even bigger fff climax at Fig 137 is distinctly underwhelming, and the maestoso which follows is, again, ruthlessly rushed. The strings redeem themselves in the next section though (Fig 139), where they bring it with gusto; followed by a touching, plaintive trumpet solo - a bit reminiscent of “Taps”, despite it sounding a little too fast. And as the big finale approaches (just after Fig 141), the tempo most certainly is too fast, and the music bubbles forth joyously rather than triumphantly. And I can’t imagine that’s how Walton intended it to sound. Oh, and one final nitpick - in the last measure, why is the final dotted 8th longer than the preceding two? I see no justification for it in the score, and it sounds contrived, ineffectual and a little pretentious doing it this way.5
 
As a whole, I would describe Wilson’s way with this symphony as capricious, whimsical and somewhat frivolous. And none of that is what we want from Walton’s monumental 1st Symphony. We need drama first and foremost. And we absolutely must have tension. And above all - POWER! But Wilson will have none of it. Or maybe - just maybe - his on-demand troupe of musicians simply can’t deliver it. Whatever the reason, I admit I’m surprised this was such a colossal letdown.  
 
As to the Cello Concerto, do I even need to go into this? I mean, no matter how good it might be, it wouldn’t begin to compensate for the symphony...right? Well, I may have been wrong about that. 

Instantly in the opening Moderato, I hear all the intrigue, drama and dynamic impact which were lacking in the symphony. The sense of anticipation created here is positively palpable. I was transfixed, unable to move from in front of the speakers. And even in the more virtuosic Allegro appassionato which follows, there is an intensity and, yes, passion, which caught me off guard and kept me thoroughly enthralled. The extended finale then, which is as long as the previous two movements combined, displays a wide variety of moods, color and atmosphere - music in which Wilson (and the Chandos recording team) excels. And he is very engaging here. In fact, I was taken aback by the orchestral pronouncement just before the cadenza, which is more powerful, exciting and invigorating than anything Wilson produced in the symphony, prompting an impulsive WOW! from me.
 
To be sure, Wilson’s contribution in this piece is significant. However, it would be for naught if the soloist wasn’t exceptional. And he most certainly is. Jonathan Aasgaard’s playing is full of emotion and expressiveness, and he accommodates the virtuosic passages with aplomb. His cadenza near the end is impressive, leading to a deeply felt final Adagio. Most of all, though, his very presence in the recording session seems to have been pure inspiration for John Wilson. This concerto, as recorded here, is a moving, almost transcendent experience which I wasn’t expecting. Suffice it to say, I enjoyed the piece more than I ever have before. And just as with the Violin Concerto in the previous installment, Wilson and his soloist made me truly love this concerto for the very first time. Jonathan Aasgaard is a wonderful and inspiring soloist, and Wilson is a fine accompanist. And I begin to understand why Chandos gives the concerto top billing on the front cover. And maybe, just maybe, this disc might be worth it after all.
 
I would expect the final installment in the series will give us the Viola Concerto (which I now really look forward to), and the 2nd Symphony (which Wilson might actually do a little better in). We can hope for the best.
 
1 Some make mention of Litton’s 1993 Decca recording with the Bournemouth Symphony as being another worthy successor. Though I have that CD on my shelf, I don’t remember it being in the same exalted class. I may have to revisit it.
2 This was recorded in January 2024, around the same time as Wilson’s previously released Walton disc. Curiously, the cello concerto and the symphony were recorded much earlier - before that first volume was released - in 2022/23. How very odd. 
3 Just occasionally, the acoustic, as luxurious as it is, sounds just a bit over-reverberant to be beneficial in this regard. 
4 And it’s not even all that fast; Previn is over 20 seconds quicker in this movement.
5 I do realize Wilson is not alone in doing this. But that still doesn’t make it right. Or effective.

Where to begin.

Several fantastic, musically inspiring releases have graced my listening room over the past couple of months, and it has been a pleasure hearing and writing about them here on my blog. But among those, there have also been a plethora of decidedly uninspired releases along the way. So uninspiring in fact, I haven’t been motivated to write anything about them - good or bad. So here’s a little snapshot of some of the things I’ve been listening to, which have generated so little interest, I never got around to reviewing them.
 
After several recordings of music by the endlessly fascinating and awe-inspiring creativity of Grazyna Bacewicz, I’ll start this survey with 2 other female composers I’ve encountered recently whose music is not nearly as impressive. The first is easy to dispense with fairly quickly - orchestral works by British composer Eleanor Alberga (who was born in Jamaica), on a label I really like, resonus. I didn't really care much for any of this music. The title piece “Strata” is actually her recent (2022) attempt at a symphony (#1), which sounds much more like a planetary suite than a symphony. It's colorfully orchestrated and very programmatic, with movement titles such as "firmament", "core", "mantel", etc. Throughout the piece, I hear some really good ideas which are initially interesting and spark the imagination, but are soon all but abandoned as she goes off in weird directions which fail to sustain one's interest. The short 4th movement ("crust") raises eyebrows though, with the incorporation of shouted vocalizations from the orchestral musicians, which seem contrived and intentionally gimmicky - and completely out of place in this mostly atmospheric music, especially in a work she's calling a symphony. Moreover, at well over 36 minutes, the piece as a whole is certainly too long for its material. As is the half-hour-long symphonic suite "Mythologies" from much earlier in her career (2000), which ends the program in much the same way.

It's curious how little her sound and style have changed (and/or developed) over the span of 22 years. And, frankly, it simply doesn't capture the listener's interest for very long and remains largely forgettable. The orchestral playing throughout is thoroughly committed and the recorded sound is excellent. 
 
Another female British composer, Anna Clyne, has been gaining momentum lately with several YouTube concert videos of her current hit, “The Midnight Hour”. I like the piece and have a good recording of it with Sakari Oramo conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra on a 2020 collection of Clyne’s music on Avie entitled Mythologies. Marin Alsop also conducts one work on that CD (“Masquerade”), which I also enjoyed. So I thought it fitting to explore this composer further on a recent Naxos release of her music with Alsop conducting the Baltimore Symphony.
 
First, I found this release a little odd - starting with the cover. I’ll admit right up front I’m not a fan of Marin Alsop and have never understood her popular acclaim.1 And with that in mind, I was amused by her pretentious headshot pic on the front, and wondered, what's wrong with her ear? Weird. More important is the source material Naxos assembled for this compilation. These recordings date from 2017, 2018 and 2021 - all but the first track coming from “live” performances in Baltimore. One wonders why they are just now seeing the light of day on CD. Whatever the reason, I found much of this music to be slightly amateurish, sounding exactly like what it is - written on-demand to fulfill a commission - as opposed to truly inspired creations directly from the heart and soul.
 
Though the opening work, "Within Her Arms", was not a commission - and is in fact a heartfelt memoriam composed after her mother passed away in 2008. The booklet tells us it has become her most performed work. It’s tender and very intimate, written for 15 string soloists. Unfortunately, it just feels too long. There simply isn’t enough thematic content or variety of mood or tone to hold one’s interest for the entirety of its 13-½ minutes. Maybe if this were half as long, it might have been much more captivating. But it goes on and on, tugging at our heartstrings, without ever really going (or getting) anywhere. As lovely as it is (and it’s sensitively played here, replete with silky string sound), it just never quite develops into something truly memorable.
 
Abstractions for Orchestra, commissioned by the Baltimore Symphony in 2016, is based on paintings from the Baltimore Museum of Art, and exhibits much more variety in its 5 sections. But here, the on-demand, paint-by-numbers element begins to reveal itself. I hear a certain formulaic methodology in its composition - from restlessly fluctuating broken chords and queasy string glissandos in the 2nd section; to scales up and down in the 4th; followed by arpeggios all around in the 5th. These creative devices are all dressed up with lots of busywork from every section of the orchestra, adorned with brilliant orchestration. This, along with vivid recorded sound, almost succeeds in distracting us from its lack of real creative substance. And as such, it’s pleasant enough - rather like listening to an unremarkable film score.  

This intrinsic temperament continues similarly in her 2020 Color Field, where colors are the inspiration rather than paintings. "Yellow" begins much like Abstractions does, and never really develops a distinctive voice. "Red" is energetic, resorting back to the use of scales up and down and everywhere, rather than actual thematic material, over a primitive, rudimentary rhythmic pulse propelled with bongos - sounding very much like an action/adventure movie soundtrack. "Orange" is more like "Yellow", but with Minimalist roots and appealing hints of James Newton Howard's score for the movie Signs - which I actually enjoyed the most of anything on the entire program. This music is all pleasantries, if not all true inspiration.

Oh, and in between is "Restless Oceans", which bombards us with crude, primitive shouts from the orchestra members not unlike what we heard in that one section of Alberga's "symphony". But to be fair, Alberga incorporates it judiciously, whereas Clyne utilizes it profusely - which, if anything, sounds even more contrived and gimmicky.2

I was surprised I didn't enjoy this music more than I did, and wondered if it was the conducting or the music itself which caused me to feel this way about it. In the end, I came to the conclusion it's probably both. In any event, this program is easy to listen to while dusting or cooking dinner. Many may find it enjoyable while relaxing with a glass of wine. But with a total playing time of only 52 minutes, there was plenty of room on the CD for something more - perhaps Clyne's popular, aforementioned "The Midnight Hour", which might have added something a bit more substantive to the program.

More uninteresting and uninspiring music comes from yet another British composer, Thomas Ades, who conducts a program from the Halle. In fact, it’s so bland, it doesn’t even seem to have any dynamics. I kept turning up the volume just to hear if they were still playing something. And nothing much ever seems to happen musically - particularly in the first two works on the program. "Shanty", written for 15 string players, is executed with endless glissandi slippin' and slidin' from note to note, up and down and all around - which actually was making me queasy long before it was done. (It goes on like this for nearly 8 minutes. Good god.) "Dawn" is more melodic, with melancholy string harmonics and a plaintive flute tune over an incessant, plucking harp foundation. 
 
I was particularly intrigued, however, with the 3rd piece on the program, "Man With Limp Wrist", by British composer William Marsey (b. 1989). Hmm...is there a gay element to this?3 Looking at the individual movement titles would suggest there might be: “Bar Boy”, “The Texter”, “The After-Party”, “Three Friends”, etc. But disappointingly, the program note merely tells us that it’s actually inspired by a painting of the same name, of a somewhat folksy, homely, naked man (a reproduction of which is printed in the booklet.) Musically, it all sounds rather reserved and gentlemanly (though the opening is strangely eerie) - generating only the slightest hint of gaiety for our coquettish bar boy, who seems to be dancing a little Scottish jig for some reason. And there's not even much liveliness as it continues. Even the after-party sounds like everyone is pretty pooped (and more than a little tipsy) after a night out, and the texter sounds sad about something. The three friends share a minute (literally) reminiscing about the evening, before the main title section takes us to the end. So perhaps I jumped to the wrong conclusion on this. Or perhaps not. Maybe he's just shy. Regardless, this charming little suite is pleasant and amusing without being especially memorable. Nonetheless, it was the highlight of the entire program - such as it is.

Later in the program, we eventually hear a real fortissimo in the "Bell Canon" movement of Cartoon Sun by Oliver Leith (b. 1990). This ff comes unexpectedly out of nowhere and is not at all pleasant, but Ades does finally manage to draw some dynamics from the orchestra.4 The piece is laid out in three similar-sounding movements, but other than that one climax, it, too, just meanders along without ever really doing anything or getting anywhere. In this regard, Leith's music tends to sound much like Ades', and fails to generate much interest in what's left of the program. As I was nodding off, what little I heard of Ades' more substantial "Aquifer", which comes last, sounded promising, so I may want to revisit that when I'm more alert. Throughout the disc, the playing is good and the recorded sound is fine - fairly innocuous, much like the music and musicmaking - all 68 minutes of it.
 
While I’m getting through some of these recordings, I might as well make a quick mention of one which initially caught my eye with the potential for a fresh, youthful, invigorating program - American Folklore - played by the Yale Symphony Orchestra on Nimbus Alliance. But such was not the case - at least in the familiar works which come first on this disc. While on the face of it, this disc may not initially seem to fit with the theme of this survey (“uninteresting British music”), seeing British conductor William Boughton on the podium makes it perfectly appropriate to be included here, as he leaves his mark profoundly on the musicmaking. I’ve always thought of him as a boring conductor. (Remember all those ho-hum Nimbus recordings in the 90s? Yawn.) And now at 77 years old, he sounds even more so, and sadly, that’s exactly how I hear these youngsters play for him - at least in the 2 familiar works, which were recorded at the very end of Boughton's 5-year tenure at Yale (2025). The playing is careful, refined and so thoroughly over-rehearsed, it loses a sense of spontaneity, let alone freshness. The orchestra plays fairly well, occasionally exposing their student origins. But how can they make Duke Ellington sound so unidiomatic and boring?5 And Copland so uneventful? And not just the playing, but the recorded sound too, which is rather bland and undynamic. And where oh where is the bass drum in Billy the Kid? It sounds like pounding on an empty cardboard box rather than a sf (as marked) on a big bass drum.
 
Musical involvement and recorded sound improve considerably as they continue the program with three contemporary works - two of which are premiere recordings, recorded at sessions 1-2 years earlier. "Rainbow Serpent" by Christopher Theofanidis is extremely nice, showcasing this orchestra's surprisingly excellent string section. I wish they would have played the entire piece from which it is extracted (Dreamtime Ancestors). After this, we have a "symphonic fantasy" by British composer Bernard Rands, which has some nice things in it, but goes on interminably for over 21 minutes (!). Unfortunately, I lost interest long before it was done, and wondered why it was included here in an American folklore-themed album. Finally, "Of Our New Day Begun" is a substantial piece by African-American composer Omar Thomas, written to honor the 9 souls who lost their lives during the domestic terrorist attack on the historic Mother Emanuel Church in Charleston in 2015. It is heartfelt and emotionally moving - though I could have done without the foot-stomping, clapping with tambourines, and vocals in the central section, and even the somewhat grandiose sections (also with the orchestra singing) which follow. But the music builds to a fine climax and the ending itself is extraordinarily touching. This is undoubtedly a very impressive piece of music, and the playing (and singing) of it by this young orchestra is quite simply glorious. If only they had skipped the Ellington and Copland (and the Rands, for that matter), which are distinctly meh in comparison, and played more new American music instead, this program overall might have been much more wonderful. 

Speaking of meh (and boring), Simon Rattle offers up yet another of his usual run-of-the-mill concerts on a recent (2022) LSO SACD. Bernstein's "Prelude, Fugue and Riffs" and Stravinsky's "Ebony Concerto" are heard here in routine readings hardly worth the effort. Proper British refinement and lack of enthusiasm smother any life these delightful works might otherwise display under better direction. Indeed, I suspect these players would instinctively produce more lively readings without Rattle up there. The coupling, Golijov's "Nazareno", in an arrangement by Gonzalo Grau for 2 pianos and orchestra - made at the request of the Labeque sisters, who play it here - is equally straight-laced and well-mannered. The recorded sound is smooth and lacks bite. Impossibly meh from beginning to end.
 
Finally Sir Arthur Bliss. I am very fond of some of his music and was interested to hear his ballet Miracle in the Gorbals on Chandos.6 It’s conducted by Michael Seal, who I thought was wonderful in the Chandos collection of orchestral music by the (now) late Adrian Sutton. This relatively neglected ballet is pleasant enough, but not nearly as appealing or memorable as his much more familiar Checkmate ballet - despite excellent playing and recorded sound here. The coupling, “Metamorphic Variations”, is not so pleasant. And curiously, the production goes to great pains proclaiming this to be the first recording of the complete score. The booklet goes into lengthy detail about the 2 little sections which were restored for this recording after having been excised from the original score by the composer. At first it all seems terribly interesting - exciting even - until one realizes these 2 sections are merely 2 short variations, making up barely 5 minutes of the 43-minute score. Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal. And as the entire piece is steadfastly uninteresting, the inclusion of these 2 variations is inconsequential and doesn’t add enough to make the piece any less forgettable. The playing and recorded sound are exemplary.
 
In closing, I don’t mean to specifically pick on the Brits in this survey. I suppose it’s just coincidence that all the material on these CDs just happens to be from British composers, conductors and/or labels, so it was logical to lump them all together. While most of them are worth hearing maybe just once, considering the price of CDs these days, I wouldn’t consider any of them essential purchases.
 
1 She was conductor of the Colorado Symphony from 1993-2005, while I was living in Denver. And we all witnessed a decline in that orchestra during her tenure - enduring concert after concert of bluster, empty bravado and glossy superficiality - and precious little musical substance or insight. And that’s exactly what I hear from her on record.
2 Is this a thing now - crude shouting from the orchestra? Asking for this kind of nonsense from professional orchestral musicians is, frankly, insulting.  
3 After all, Ades is openly gay. (I have no idea if Marsey is.)
4 I suspect they're playing merely on auto-pilot, sight-reading these scores.
5 And why only 4 movements from River Suite?  
6 I have on my shelf the 1999 Naxos recording of it, but have no memory of it.

I keep remembering how the Marmen Quartet blew me away playing Ligeti and Bartok on their debut recording for BIS earlier this year. It’s one of those momentous recordings which comes so rarely that it is simply unforgettable. Well, it is a fortuitous year indeed when we have yet another of those unforgettable recordings come along which is just as momentous and memorable. The Karski Quartet playing Bacewicz. And what a marvelous recording this is. 
 
Let’s start with the label, with its amusing logo and intriguing name: Evil Penguin. This is a Belgium production, whose website describes itself, not once, but twice, as a “boutique” label - claiming to be artist-driven, specializing in repertoire which “goes beyond the standard catalog”, and in-house expertise leading the way in “immersive” audio. Marketing hype aside, based on what I hear on this CD, it’s no mere hype. The sound is excellent, as is the playing of this string quartet based in Brussels.
           
Getting to the music, I jumped ahead and listened to the String Quartet (#4) first, a very popular piece lately which I’ve encountered twice already this year - neither of which was entirely satisfactory (please see reviews here on my blog). After a disappointing new recording from the Telegraph Quartet on Azica Records last month, I was anxious to hear another new group have a fresh go at it - hoping for all the world they would make me truly love it again. And oh my goodness do they ever.
 
The very opening is an almost inaudible ppp, prompting me to turn up the volume just to hear it. And as the music gets underway, the first thing I notice, besides the wide dynamic range, is the natural perspective of the recorded sound - which places the group slightly close to the listener, with a palpable presence within a spacious acoustic. And also the sheer gorgeousness of the group’s blend - with the luxurious sound of the viola being particularly notable. So already I’m hearing significant improvements over the Telegraph Quartet’s recording of the piece. Musically too, the music-making here conveys a communicative intimacy as if telling a story. And I’m so drawn into the music, I completely forget I’m listening to a recording.
 
As the movement progresses, I am struck by this violist’s (Diede Verpoest) solo after Fig 10, marked espressivo e con passione, and I uttered an “oh my god” upon hearing him playing it just that way - ravishing in its voluptuousness. Then a few bars later, the cellist (Julia Kotarba) eases into the first of her many solo passages with a plaintive expressiveness (marked melancolico), tempering the intensity of the vibrato, befitting the musical line. It is refreshing (and important) to hear these musical expression indications given such attentive prominence. And as the music unfolds, I hear this variety of tone color, vibrato and dynamics from the entire group - individually and as a unified ensemble. The result is a spontaneous outpouring of expression and musical involvement which is rare to hear, especially on a recording. I’m enthralled, and once again marvel at the wonderment of Bacewicz’s musical creation. The group continues building the music with enraptured intensity, culminating in an urgency in the closing section which sounds more exciting than I would have ever expected it could be.
 
The Andante, then, is expressive certainly, but with a singing simplicity which is captivating. There is a natural clarity to their ensemble which allows each individual solo line to sing out clearly, while surrounded by a rich harmonic blend from the rest of the group supporting it. There is a pervading feeling of melancholy here, but also a bit of hopefulness in the closing measures which I had not experienced in this movement before. Very, very nice.
 
And finally, the Allegro giocoso is fleet, but full-bodied too. Even light on their feet and incisively articulate and detailed (all wholly appropriate for the music), this superb group retains their body of tone - as opposed to the somewhat clinical transparency of the Telegraph Quartet. Thus there is a certain gravitas along with an exuberant freshness to their interpretation which is irresistible. And they bring the piece to an invigorating close.  
 
The Karski Quartet displays a unified purpose and direction to each movement, further demonstrating a thorough understanding of the overall scope of the piece as a whole. This, along with their blended sound and variety of color, texture and dynamic contrasts, makes it without doubt the most satisfying, rewarding, and musically enriching recording of the piece I’ve yet heard. It is so wonderful, I can only hope the group has plans to record more of these marvelous string quartets from this endlessly creative composer.
 
After that, I couldn’t wait to hear them play the Piano Quintet #1, which comes first on the CD. I recall enjoying both of Bacewicz's Piano Quintets on the 2018 Chandos recording played by the Silesian Quartet. But I have not returned to it and have no lasting memory of them. Eager to get reacquainted, I sat back and listened, hoping the perfection of the recorded sound in the Quartet has not been disturbed by the addition of a piano.
 
And it hasn’t. The piano is placed naturally behind the strings, not at all imposing or domineering. (More on this in a moment.) Though I'm not sure I like the sound of the very opening of the Moderato. It begins tentatively - very slowly and extremely mysterioso - but with an almost harsh starkness from the strings played sans vibrato, emphasized somewhat by the slightly close-up recording. Curious why they would play it this way, a quick check of the Silesians on Chandos reveals they execute it similarly.1 Bacewicz's indication in the score is molto espressivo, so this doesn't make much sense - especially as it sounds so uninviting. Fortunately they don't continue with it for long, and as the music begins to swell, so does the expression in their playing. And soon, the main Allegro takes flight, suffused with drama and enriched with passion. And I'm thoroughly engaged once more. The rhapsodic section near the end is especially memorable, with voluptuous string playing.

The relatively short Presto is lively - coquettish and even a bit skittish - featuring, at one point, some stunning 1st violin exclamations on the G string. And just as with the viola solo heard before in the Quartet, I virtually gasped at the gorgeous tone heard from this violinist (Kaja Nowak) - enhanced in no small part by the immediacy of the recording. This short little scherzo is delightful, and energetic too, with some impressive, scintillating piano playing by Jams Coleman.
 
Everything comes to a halt as the funereal Grave steals in. They take a daringly slow tempo in this movement, clocking in at well over a minute longer than the Silesian Quartet on Chandos. But they imbue it with a singing sensuality which keeps the listener fully engaged. And as it's marked grave, I can’t fault them. Curious though, I stopped here to make another back-to-back comparison with the Silesians, whose playing of this is somewhat different - simpler and less intense, with a slightly more forward-moving tempo. And the piano tone is a bit different as well. The Chandos recording affords the piano a noticeably darker, richer and more resonant tone in the lower registers compared to the one heard on Evil Penguin. And the entire perspective is slightly distanced and more atmospheric - all to great effect. But the closer perspective afforded the Karskis is in no way detrimental. Just...different.
 
The 4th movement then is a striking contrast. It is nervous and energetic, played with verve and a tantalizing friskiness. It’s marked con passione, and the group really brings it in the sensual second subject, which sounds downright seductive. And another comparison here with the Silesians proves informative. They play it slightly faster still - a bit more vivacious, yet lyrical at the same time. And again, the slightly more distanced Chandos recording is entirely beneficial, with a gain in atmosphere and a more clearly defined piano, with more sparkle to the higher octaves. Very nice. Both recordings are very satisfying, each in their distinctive ways, and it would be difficult to choose one over the other. Though if hard pressed, I suppose my preference would be the Silesians for their slightly more moving tempos and even more alluring recorded sound. But only just.
 
Curiously, the Karskis chose to close their concert with an oddity - an arrangement for string quartet of a traditional Polish folk song. It’s slow and lyrical, and actually very moving - displaying the group's richly blended sound at its most beautiful. However, I would have much preferred another major composition by Bacewicz herself to round out the program. With the total playing time on this CD of just 52 minutes (5 of that taken up by this little arrangement), there was plenty of room for another substantial work - perhaps another one of her string quartets, which the catalog desperately needs; or even the 2nd Piano Quintet, given the pianist was already on hand there in the studio with them.
 
A note about the production. The cover art and booklet are attractive and of very high quality. There are whimsical pictures of the musicians in a variety of settings, and some useful information in the booklet about the composer, the Karski Quartet and the pianist - but almost nothing about the pieces being played. How odd. For a boutique label "specializing in non-standard repertoire", I would have expected (and welcomed) in-depth program notes about both works. However, they make up for it with excellent recorded sound - which cannot be taken for granted from any label. Other than the unreasonably short playing time, overall I am impressed with Evil Penguin.
 
Postscript: Since writing the less-than-favorable review of the Telegraph Quartet’s recent Azica recording (which included Bacewicz’s 4th Quartet), I've often wondered if I had been too critical of it. But hearing how excellent this new Karski Quartet recording is - not only the playing itself, but also the recorded sound - confirms I was not. When you have such an accomplished ensemble like the Karski Quartet playing enticing and rewarding repertoire, natural recorded sound is absolutely essential for full enjoyment. And when it all comes together, as it most certainly does here, especially in the 4th Quartet, you have one hell of a recording.

1 And sampling several other recordings online, so do most other groups.

This is an enticing release - new orchestral works from American composer Kevin Puts played by the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and their fabulous conductor, Stephane Deneve. It’s also interesting that it appears on the Delos label, which is making a comeback of sorts. They were acquired by Outhere Music in 2023 and have been releasing a handful of new titles (although I’ve not heard if there are plans to reissue previous material which hasn’t already been licensed to Naxos). It’s too bad their new releases are appearing at such exorbitantly high prices though. I splurged on this one (which I will certainly not do often), paying $18.75 for it from Presto Classical in Europe, but Amazon is selling it for a whopping $26! And to make matters worse, the disc plays for a mere 50 minutes. For that kind of money, I would have expected at least a full disc.1  

So, from what I’m seeing so far, the relaunch of the Delos label is not particularly promising. But landing a recording agreement with the St. Louis Symphony is encouraging, so I sat back for a nice listen. And it really is a very nice listen. I just wish it had gone on a bit longer.
 
I read with interest in the booklet that both Puts and Deneve are bigtime fans of John Williams.2 So it isn't surprising that Puts’ Concerto for Orchestra, written at the request of (and for) Deneve, displays the very essence of John Williams everywhere in the score.3
 
It is laid out in 6 movements, the first 4 of which are very short, the final two much more expansive and substantive. And right from the very beginning, Puts’ Hymn (for the Hurting) is very much like John Williams’ Hymn (to the Fallen). And it’s all good; it’s like being reacquainted with an old friend. And I hear beautiful recorded sound - from the strings, silky and airy at first, then building with texture and intensity in the soaring lines at the climax; and brass which are not too golden, but ring out resplendently with bite and sonority, as if right out of a glorious John Williams (JW) soundtrack.
 
Articulate woodwinds and lots of percussion inhabit the 1st “Caccia” (a 14th-century hunting song) which follows. And lots of horns too. And we encounter a profusion of familiar similarities to many JW scores too numerous to mention, but two come prominently to mind - Harry Potter and Indiana Jones (the motorcycle scherzo). The “Music Box” section is more atmospheric, and Puts reveals a more distinctive voice, with gorgeous woodwind solos conversing back and forth among themselves. While the “Toccata” is a terrific little scherzo, with a whirlwind of scalic flourishes on woodwinds and strings, before blazing brass and a full battery of percussion (including the splendid use of xylophone and marimba) take us firmly to classic Star Wars territory. And I’m beaming hearing the resemblance. If only Puts had developed it more; I didn't want this to end. (It lasts just 2 minutes.)

The mood is instantly subdued in the 5th movement, “Sicilienne”, beginning with a touch of Schindler's List in the strings, followed by a melancholy piano solo which reminds us even more of JW's wonderful score for Angela's Ashes. The piano is soon joined by various woodwind solos - furtive double reeds, then flute and clarinet - quoting the opening hymn. Puts develops it much further into a majestic, expressive outpouring of emotion, again somewhat similar to JW’s Saving Private Ryan. This is quite an expansive piece of writing, personal and heartfelt, lasting a full 10 minutes. It is very moving and very memorable - so much so, I found myself humming it for the rest of the day. (Always a good sign.)
 
The final “Caccia" (#2) begins similarly. But no sooner than it begins, piccolos and snare drum (with a hint of 1941) lead us abruptly into a quirky little romp, and into the world of some later Star Wars music (Phantom Menace, maybe?), complete with whooping horns and blasting trumpet fanfares. Puts’ orchestration prowess is in full bloom, with glittering woodwind interjections darting atop brass and percussion exclamations, surrounded by string flourishes. John Williams would certainly be proud! And I hope he has a chance to hear this at some point before it’s too late.
 
This piece was enormous fun to listen to, with so many fleeting snippets of familiar John Williams scores I couldn’t always put my finger on exactly which one I was reminded of. But Puts isn’t merely imitating or copying; he’s obviously inspired by it. And that’s the highest compliment one composer can give another. Moreover, Puts has his own individuality, displaying real creativity and heartfelt expressiveness along with colorful and highly effective orchestration. And Deneve brings it all to life brilliantly, and the orchestral playing is dazzling. I do wish Puts had expanded the first 4 movements into something more substantial. They’re over hardly before they even begin, and I wanted more from each of them. (The entire Concerto lasts just over 20 minutes, nearly half of that taken up by Sicilienne alone.)
 
Next is Silent Night Elegy (thankfully not that "Silent Night") in an orchestral setting of music from Puts’ 2011 opera of the same name. There are 5 (or 6) distinct sections, and I was initially disappointed the production doesn’t individually track each one, instead confining the entire 24-minute suite into just one track. But in the end, it didn’t really matter, because the music is so involving, I was captivated and engaged for the entirety of it, and forgot all about such technical matters.
 
The opening horn solo of the “Introduction” is instantly reminiscent of JW's score for JFK, tinged with the melancholy of Sleepers. But Puts soon takes off in different directions, developing the music into something completely different, and all thoughts of John Williams fade away. The “Battle” sequence, announced by piccolos and snare drum, marches into action propelled by heavy percussion, with dissonant, deep brass depicting the horror of it. It is soon followed by some impressively vigorous downbow strings en masse played with real muscle, and mighty percussion effects - all of which are extremely effective and musically descriptive.
 
The “Aftermath” continues with more angry music - and I begin to wonder how all of this comes from an opera. With so much of this music played ff by a powerful orchestra in full cry, I can’t imagine singers somehow being involved with it, competing to be heard.4 But never mind; as purely orchestral music, this is quite arresting. The “Burial” which immediately follows is a welcome respite from the discord - atmospheric and much more lyrical, featuring a variety of orchestral solos (horn, trumpet, flute) and impassioned string writing. But it doesn’t last long, as more angry, brass-laden fierceness charges into the "Generals’ Rage". And Puts doesn’t hold back with it - nor does Deneve, demonstrating his orchestra has the percussion and brass chops for just about anything. (And again I wonder how this could ever be sung to.) I don’t mean to imply this music sounds deliberately atonal or ugly. It doesn’t, and it isn't. It’s musically descriptive and, most of the time, tonal. But a lot of this music is indeed angry and mildly unpleasant, especially for a piece entitled “Elegy”.
 
At last, “Sleep” comes in the still of the night. This final section is tranquil, calm and quiet, featuring a lovely tune on the strings, which here sound silky and airy, adorned with a gossamer sheen to their body of tone. And as it progresses, the elegy of the title fully reveals itself and closes the work peacefully. And all is well.
 
But then…why would they append at the very end of the program a rousing little march like his Virelai? With its high-spirited piccolos and percussion leading a rather Beethovian marching processional, it is particularly unwelcome coming after the quiet, prayerful serenity of Silent Night. Oh it’s a wonderful little crowd-pleaser, lasting just 3-1/2 minutes, written specifically for Deneve’s inaugural concert with the St. Louis Symphony. It’s a charming, energetic march of sorts, based on a 14th-century tune, and I’m sure the audience in St. Louis welcomed it, along with their new conductor, with open arms. But for a CD production, placing it after Silent Night is simply ridiculous. It would have been a terrific concert opener if only someone had thought of that. 

Grumbles aside, this program is musically rewarding and enormously entertaining. And it is gratifying to hear Deneve doing great things with this great orchestra.

A quick comment about the recorded sound. It's big and bold, giving the listener a front row seat. However, there is an occasional touch of fierceness in fortissimo passages in the Concerto for Orchestra which is a bit concerning. The booklet reveals these 3 works were recorded over a 4-year period - the latest being the Concerto (2023), which employed a different engineer. The earlier recordings (from 2019 and 2020) are largely free from this anomaly. Much more concerning, however, is the overall short playing time and, especially, the price of this CD. These are significant issues that Outhere Music needs to address on future releases if the Delos label has any chance to be competitive and successful.    
 
1 Two other Delos titles I had considered recently similarly offered very short measure - one lasting 48 minutes, the other just 45. (I bought neither of them.) What are they thinking?
2 Which would explain all those terrific YouTube videos of Deneve conducting John Williams movie music with the St. Louis Symphony. He's definitely got a flair for it.
3 What is surprising is that several British reviews of the piece make absolutely no mention whatever of John Williams. LOL.
4 It's possible this orchestral suite draws from orchestral interludes more than from vocal passages.

After being bowled over by Sakari Oramo and the BBC Symphony Orchestra's recording of Bacewicz’s magnificent Symphonies 3 and 4 (2023 Chandos), I’ve been eagerly awaiting the follow-up disc and wondered why it’s taking so long. Chandos has been very busy, but at long last, Volume Two has arrived.
 
I was surprised the symphony comes first on the program, before the piano concerto, which doesn't make much sense musically. You’d never see it programmed this way on a live concert. But I was eager to hear if this symphony is as wonderful as those on the first volume, so I gave it a casual listen to whet my appetite. And oh yes, it is absolutely wonderful - as is the recorded sound. I took a few cursory notes and decided to come back to it later for a more comprehensive listen, and write a full review.

I listened more intently as the Piano Concerto began playing next. I really wanted to hear Peter Donohoe and Oramo play this, as I had come away with only a lukewarm impression of the piece listening to the 2023 Ondine recording played by pianist Peter Jablonski. (Please see my review here on the blog.) And right off the bat, I noticed something a bit strange with the recorded sound. My notes say: “this sounds funny”. And after listening for a few minutes, that feeling persisted and distracted me from enjoying the music. 
 
Perplexed, I set this aside and came back to it again a few weeks later. This time I started with the Piano Concerto, and once again immediately thought, oh this does sound “funny”. It’s rather hard to describe, but the piano sounds a little "boxy", like the lid is closed, and somehow separate from the orchestra, almost in its own acoustic. And too, even the orchestra sounds a bit 2-dimensional and indistinct. So it’s time to figure out what’s happening here. Going back to the aforementioned Ondine recording for a quick listen, I immediately hear a much more natural piano tone, along with vivid, more beautiful orchestral colors. The musicmaking is more alive, engaging and interesting, and I found myself being drawn into the music in a way I didn't with the Chandos. So much so, I began to think I may have underestimated the Ondine recording in my review.
 
But matters changed as I listened further. I tried the 3rd movement Molto Allegro next, where comparisons really got interesting. Chandos has suddenly given their piano a more lifelike presence, and the orchestra a more vivid focus. Ah-ha! They must have heard something was amiss in the first movement and corrected whatever was wrong for subsequent recording sessions. And now the musicmaking on Chandos comes alive and is in every way preferable to the Ondine. The tempo is faster and the playing from pianist and orchestra alike is less ponderous.
 
Going back to the beginning again to concentrate on the Chandos, musically, I found the first movement to be rather meandering and a little strange, not helped by the recorded sound, which obstinately refuses to draw the listener into the music. The Andante is better, played at a slightly more moving tempo than on Ondine. And the recording begins to improve as well. While the finale is really quite excellent compared to Jablonski's reading, played here with more verve and less heaviness, as noted above.
 
I found the piece not terribly convincing or persuasive in either recording, though admittedly for different reasons. I would have expected it to be more formally structured and musically compelling. The Chandos booklet goes into great detail about its compositional inception - pondering over its “hidden meanings” and “poetic riddles” and “disguised” use of folk melodies. Whatever. I wish there was less mystery and more obvious incorporation of folk melodies, as I consistently longed for more thematic melodiousness in the music.

So in the end, is this a good piece? Ehhh. It’s OK. I’ve listened attentively to 2 different recordings of it and ultimately came away with the same impression both times: it’s good but eminently forgettable.
 
Moving on to the Concerto for Large Symphony Orchestra however, everything changes. Very much for the better - though the very opening doesn’t begin promisingly. It is based on a note cluster - D#, E and F on the horns and trombones, so you can imagine what you’re going to hear and what this is going to sound like. The opening measures are pretty unpleasant, especially as Bacewicz intensifies the deliberate dissonance with a sizzling cymbal roll on top of it - all for no apparent musical reason.1 But the music becomes much more interesting (and gratifying) as she settles down for the piu mosso-molto ritmico. And even more so in the poco piu mosso which follows, where she incorporates some interesting string effects (such as col legno and wild glissandos), along with interesting percussive interjections from the piano and xylophone. The orchestration here really is innovative and fascinating. 
 
The Largo is gloriously atmospheric - hypnotic and otherworldly - and superbly orchestrated with an imaginative sonic palette of color. It is expressive and stark at the same time, and sensitive too. Oramo is masterful at conducting this kind of music, and he draws exquisite playing from his orchestra. The massed string glissandi, for example, are extraordinarily effective - intriguing, unsettling and downright eerie. As is the passage which follows, ingeniously utilizing a variety of tuned percussion like vibraphone, xylophone and celesta (and there are two harps as well) to create unusual tapestries of sound. It has a somewhat blurred, almost impressionistic feel to it, along with distinct hints of Bartok. My notes say “Nice”. And my heart says, oh, I really like this.
 
The Vivo starts with more purely atmospheric string writing, incorporating icy effects (sul pont) and more glissandi, punctuated with percussion and woodwind interjections. Bartok makes an even stronger presence here - reminding me not of his own Concerto for Orchestra, but his much earlier ballet, The Miraculous Mandarin. Bacewicz even incorporates bongo drums (and other percussion) along the way, propelling its rhythmic energy under the gossamer, silky string gyrations. It remains superbly evocative and atmospheric, and with its continued resemblance to Bartok's ballet, I'm really liking this. A lot.2
 
The final Allegro non troppo is notable for interesting orchestral effects and frequent punctuations from piano and a multitude of percussion. It sounds very modern and continues to evoke Bartok - late Bartok now. But there are moments of tonality too, struggling to emerge. But it’s the rhythmic drive which propels it, especially in the presto middle section. But it gets a little weird as it makes its way to the end, ultimately reminding me more of Lutoslawski than Bartok. It ends very abruptly, with a quick outburst of percussion rather than a big climactic peroration from the full orchestra, making me again wonder why Chandos puts it at the end of the program. 
 
I don't necessarily think “Concerto for Orchestra” is really the best descriptor for this piece, as it doesn’t feature much soloistic playing, or even choirs of ensembles. Nor is it virtuosic like we’d expect from a true concerto for orchestra. Instead, it explores atmosphere, color, texture and innovative orchestration above all else. Thus it seems more like a Sinfonia or perhaps an unnumbered symphony - or even more, a grand symphonic suite. But no matter, it is ever so close to being a masterpiece, and the performance of it here is stunning. Though interestingly, Oramo is a tad slower in all four movements than on the only other recording of it I could find, with Lukasz Borowicz conducting the WDR Symphony Orchestra on CPO.3
 
Finally, going back to the very beginning for the raison d'etre for this release (which surely should have come last on the disc), we hear the wonderful Second Symphony. And it is simply glorious - and gloriously recorded, returning us the wondrous sound heard in Symphonies 3 and 4 on Volume One. These 3 symphonies were written in quick succession - 1951, 1952 and 1953 respectively - so they reasonably should all inhabit a similar sound world. But they are fascinatingly different from one another - the 2nd, strikingly so.

The first movement is marked con passione, and Oramo interprets that brilliantly. He imbues it with passion, yes, but not a bit of heaviness or overindulgence. After the grandiose opening, the Allegro sentimento is less richly Baxian than the later symphonies, avoiding the chordal blocks of sound utilized so prominently in, especially, the 3rd. It is more impressionistic in its harmonic progression and fluid melodic lines, with leaner harmonies and more transparent orchestration. And as the Allegro develops, Oramo generates great momentum and excitement, then relaxes beautifully in the back-and-forth swelling and subsiding of the many meno mosso and piu mosso markings in the score - sounding at all times utterly spontaneous. I kept thinking over and over what a marvelous composer Bacewicz is and how refreshingly original this piece is.
 
The Lento tranquillo is exactly that - gloriously tranquil over a constantly moving, walking motif in the lower strings. And as the melody expands in the poco piu mosso, the upper strings are ravishing, as played by this fantastic orchestra. Yet Oramo doesn't allow it to become burdened with excess emotion - for even here, the transparency in the scoring remains a priority. And there is a certain disquietude underlying the illusive tranquility in the final section, which is spellbinding. The atmosphere of uncertainty here is awesomely portrayed by Oramo and the recording engineers. Oh my goodness, what a glorious piece of music this is.

The Scherzo vivo then takes off with energy and vigor, but also a delightful fleetness as well - at a perfectly chosen tempo. Oramo is once again masterful in preventing the music from weighing itself down, while allowing dynamics to expand with power and effortless ease into the acoustic (helped in no small part by the Chandos engineers). He again generates plenty of momentum and sheer excitement as well. It would be near impossible for an audience to refrain from spontaneous applause at the conclusion of this vivacious little scherzo (which lasts just under 4 minutes). But there is more!

The finale is a nice contrast to the Scherzo, marked Allegro moderato, which Oramo again judges perfectly. The massed strings are very impressive here - with just enough bow-on-string articulation to propel the sheer body and weight of their sound without becoming heavy. And while it's not overtly fast, Oramo brings enormous impetus and drive. And the variety of moods keeps the listener engaged in rapt attention, as Oramo thoroughly immerses us in Bacewicz’s inspirational and truly inspired creativity and imaginative orchestration. The piece ends with grandeur and panache - which would surely bring the audience to its feet.

And it's no wonder the Piano Concerto didn't make a more favorable impression, coming after the triumphant conclusion of this symphony.

This Symphony is another magnificent piece of music by this highly accomplished and endlessly impressive, pioneering composer. Its relative neglect is absolutely unconscionable and indefensible. Fortunately for us, it couldn’t possibly be afforded a more persuasive or rewarding performance than this one with the wonderful conductor, Sakari Oramo, and his equally wonderful orchestra. And the superlative recorded sound from Chandos brings it into the listening room with splendor and realism. With the exception of the Piano Concerto, orchestral recordings don’t get much better than this - musically, performatively, or sonically. I enjoyed it immensely.

1 It reminds me of her similarly dissonant Double Piano Concerto (heard on the same aforementioned Ondine CD), written 4 years later, especially as this incorporates the piano rather prominently in places.
2 Not surprising, as Bartok's Miraculous Mandarin is one of my favorite pieces of music.
3 I want to acquire that CD for comparison's sake. And, more importantly, the piece is so rewarding, it merits a second listen.

I look forward to new recordings from JoAnn Falletta and her wonderful Buffalo Philharmonic. If ever there was a musical match made in heaven, it’s this conductor and orchestra.
 
The program itself is very enticing too, though at first I was disappointed to see she recorded only Iberia from Debussy’s Images, rather than the entire thing. With a total disc playing time under 60 minutes, there was plenty of room for all of it. But never mind; I was swept away by her Iberia and all else was soon forgotten.
 
This Debussy is truly some of most atmospheric, dynamic, and musically engaging orchestral music I’ve heard all year, helped by some of Naxos’s very best recorded sound. I was immediately struck by the gorgeous, spacious, atmospheric acoustic, and the dynamic, articulate, energetic and sensitive orchestral playing - all of which drew me in, thoroughly immersing me in the perfumed colors and atmosphere of Debussy’s magnificent score. The orchestra is set back realistically in the hall, yet is afforded superb immediacy, focus and transparency.

In the opening section, Falletta brings the music brilliantly to life, with vivid characterization, boundless energy, musical phrasing and a wealth of inner detail. While Parfums de la nuit (“scents of night”) is evocative and very atmospheric, without wallowing in the impressionistic haze of it. Falletta wisely keeps it moving - and again allows every significant detail to emerge, while encouraging her strings to sing ever so sweetly. And then, get ready for jour de fete (“festival day”), which takes off like a dash, bursting into an extremely flamboyant flamenco. It is very fast, and very exciting, but never hectic or breathless. It’s an exuberant, festive celebration, ending with enormous bravura. (I love those trombones!)
 
I skipped over Alborada, anxious to hear Ibert’s Escales next. And curiously, the sound is suddenly a bit less present and dynamic here. It sounds to be mastered to disc at a lower transfer level, requiring a boost of the volume control. But once adjusted, Rome-Palermo (Sicily) begins exquisitely, with an enchanting, almost intoxicating feeling. Here Falletta does allow herself to luxuriate in it just a bit, which is entirely appropriate for the music. Though when the con sordino, multi-divisi strings rise up from the mists, they are slightly less ravishing than I’ve heard elsewhere - none more so than Eduardo Mata’s sumptuous 1994 recording with the Dallas Symphony for Dorian Records. The Buffalo strings are silky and gossamer, but not quite as lush as I was expecting. 
 
In Tunis-Nefta (Africa), we hear an ethereal, hypnotic atmosphere surrounding a truly mesmerizing, snake-charming oboe - sans vibrato. This works so well played this way, I scribbled in my notes “absolutely genius!”1 And when Ibert finally takes us to Spain in the final movement (thus in keeping with the theme of this album), the rhythmic opening of Valencia is crisply articulate and highly propulsive, though I do miss some sheer muscle in the massed strings, which are marked ff but sound more comfortably f. And later near the end, in the passages building up to the climatic finish, I wish the fff bass drum and tam-tam crashes were as overwhelmingly powerful as they are on Mata’s spectacular Dorian CD. (To be fair, none can match the sheer amplitude and dynamic range of that classic audiophile recording.) But Falletta is very impressive here, bringing a grand pageantry to this entire final section, while encouraging the strings to positively soar to the heavens at full, rapturous power.  
 
I can turn the volume back down to normal for the concluding Ravel, as the orchestra is restored to the level heard earlier in Debussy.2 And it’s interesting that with a more sharply focused immediacy to the sound, the orchestra actually gains in atmosphere and color, along with dynamic presence and inner detail.
 
This Rapsodie espagnole is, simply put, superbly played. Everywhere we hear a responsiveness from this orchestra to their conductor’s every gesture, with nuances which sound at all times totally natural, totally musical and utterly spontaneous. Prelude a la nuit is sumptuous, yes, but kept moving along nicely, revealing every detail in Ravel’s explicit orchestration. While Malaguena is, once again, very fast (marked Vif). And boy does it work at this tempo! Especially when Falletta relaxes beautifully - not too much! - when called for in the score (subito moins anime - “immediately less animated”), with a natural musical ease and expressiveness which is exceptional. Habanera is superbly atmospheric, brimming with color and extraordinary responsiveness from the orchestra, with a natural elasticity and ebb-and-flow of tempo and phrasing.
 
And hold on for the final Feria ("festival"), which is again very fast, fleet, exciting and festive - glistening with sparkle and glittering detail in the orchestration. While Falletta pushes her orchestra to their very limits at this speed, she has the innate sense to hold back just ever so slightly, for a mere split second, right where the music absolutely needs it - at the height of a climax to let it fully expand, or in a harmonic resolution to let it fully settle - before pushing ahead again. Thus it never sounds rushed or driven, just thoroughly spontaneous and absolutely exhilarating. I’ve criticized many a conductor who plays things fast just to be fast, but it’s not really all that exciting. Well, Falletta knows exactly what she’s doing; this is fast and exciting. She continues to prove over and over what a masterful conductor she is.
 
Going back to Ravel’s Alborada del gracioso that I skipped over was a delight from beginning to end. The opening is delectably atmospheric, creating a real sense of anticipation. (And the bouncing, staccato bassoon is hilariously gracioso!) And then...that first bass drum wallop is a sock to the gut! Just as it should be. (This is exactly what I was missing in the climax of Escales.) The piece continues on as the brilliant showpiece I was hoping it would be, and the orchestral playing is dazzling. Even if at the end, the accented, ff whacks on the low F# timpani aren't as crisp or powerfully impactful as they could be (they sound a bit muffled - way, way back there), the trombones' machismo more than makes up for it. And I almost wish they had played this last on the program to close the concert. It's a knockout.
 
This is yet another fabulous release from the fabulous JoAnn Falletta. I don't think I've ever heard her quite so vivacious and uninhibited before, and the musicmaking throughout is thrilling. The playing of the Buffalo Philharmonic is, as always, excellent, and even with the slight reservations with the Ibert, so too is the Naxos recorded sound. Not to be missed.
 
1 Perhaps other conductors play it this way, I just don’t remember another quite like it.
2 The recording details reveal the Debussy and Ravel were recorded in October 2023 and March 2024, while the Ibert was 7 months later in October '24. For whatever reason, microphone placement must have been slightly different for that later session.