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

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

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

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

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

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

So Warner has finally decided to do something other than just aimlessly reissuing the EMI catalog over and over and over, ad nauseum, slapping their logo on each and every one, each and every time, as if they had anything to do with it, and calling it their own. But this time, they did actually take some initiative on this one, undertaking the task of remastering it. What a novel idea! It still has the Warner logo plastered on the front, but with the effort involved, I’ll concede it warrants it.

That being said, it's curious they decided to go with SACD on this (and a handful of others as well). EMI had tried it back in 2012, just a year before Warner acquired them, and the results were decidedly unimpressive, to say the least. It was a very limited series, dedicated to recordings originally made in Abbey Road studios - which, at the time, sounded pretty poor to begin with - and the SACD format did little to help.1 There weren't very many of them released before EMI abandoned the project (only about half a dozen as I recall). So now Warner is resurrecting the idea and having a go at it. And one wonders why. Why is Warner, which has no experience or expertise with SACD, suddenly dabbling in the format so late in the game? Why not just perform a thorough remastering for CD? I'm a big advocate and fan of the SACD format, but even I question this - especially coming from a label like Warner.

So is it worth it?   

PART ONE - what it is
Before I get into the sonics, which is really the point of this review, let me summarize what we have here. This is widely considered to be something of a landmark - one of the most consistently satisfying complete sets of the Tchaikovsky Symphonies on record. For a couple of reasons. This was back when Muti was a young firebrand (a far cry from what he sadly has become during his Chicago years). Musically, he brought Italian fervor combined with real Russian fire to Tchaikovsky, along with vigorous orchestral execution - which was uncommon even then, let alone now. And perhaps more importantly, he literally transformed the “New Philharmonia” orchestra from the brink of mediocrity after years of dire artistic decline under Klemperer. Significantly, as noted in the credits, only the First Symphony - the first in the series to be recorded in 1975 - was attributed to the “New Philharmonia”; and for all the rest, their name had been restored to the original Philharmonia Orchestra, along with higher levels of accomplished orchestral playing and renewed vigor. (He performed a similar feat in Philadelphia a few years later, positively rejuvenating that orchestra after their long, drawn out, and eventually tiresome tenure under Ormandy.) If ever there was an “orchestra builder” the likes of which had rarely been witnessed (along with Antal Dorati and Georg Solti of course, and perhaps, to a lesser extent, Zubin Mehta), it was Riccardo Muti - when he had boundless energy, enthusiasm and discipline. He knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn’t accept compromises from an orchestra.

The recorded sound in this Tchaikovsky set was never considered great however; merely serviceable. Muti’s musical interpretations and temperament were of primary importance, and technical qualities became a secondary consideration. Revisiting this new edition, I was reminded that most of these were recorded in Abbey Road Studio No. 1, which was a big part of the problem with the sound.2 EMI’s Abbey Road recordings of the day never sounded very good, even back then, and these Tchaikovsky recordings were no exception - tending to sound airless, cramped, dynamically constrained and sometimes a little rough. But it’s been many, many years since I’ve listened to them (more than I care to admit, or even contemplate), and audio memory can be notoriously unreliable. So it’s definitely time for a little refresher.
 
Personally, as a complete set, I didn’t think the final 3 symphonies quite matched the exalted heights of the first 3. They were certainly noteworthy, but hearing Muti in Symphonies 1-3 was a revelation. I had never considered them as important as the others, or even all that interesting, but Muti changed that completely. And the 1st Piano Concerto, with Russian pianist Andre Gavrilov, has remained a favorite of mine through the years - one of the most energetic, impassioned and fiery performances I can ever remember. Same with Romeo and Juliet; it was surely the most dramatic and thrilling performance ever (at least at the time), although I distinctly remember it wasn’t very good sonically. 

This set has been reissued in various iterations many times over the decades, but all have retained the original EMI remastering used when they first began appearing on CD in the mid-80s. So these recordings have been ripe for a new lease on life and long overdue for a fresh remastering using current techniques. I immediately ordered this set before it disappears, or they raise the price ridiculously out of consideration - both of which are almost certainly inevitable.

What initially caught my eye on this is the SACD symbol on the front. SACD from Warner?! Interested about that, I found the meager booklet inadequate and skimpy with details. It is merely a reprint of the one included in the 2011 EMI CD box, which provides a brief history of Muti and a concise encapsulation of Tchaikovsky's music (in 3 languages), but has not been updated to tell us anything about this production - why they revisited these venerable recordings, why they undertook a new remastering, why they decided to go with SACD rather than standard CD, etc. They only provide basic recording details (dates, locations, etc.) and a modest, concise statement in small font: “Newly remastered in HD 192kHz/24-bit from original tapes”. And of Manfred, which was digitally recorded in 1981, the wording is slightly different in interesting ways (italicized here by me for emphasis): HD 96kHz/24-bit from a 44kHz/16-bit digital recording with AI upscaling remastering. Hmmm. The audiophile in me is intrigued. I wonder what AI upscaling involves, and what it will sound like.

The documentation is strangely vague about the disc and audio formats, so let me clarify that. These are 2-channel, stereo hybrid SACDs, which of course include a CD layer for playback on any CD player. There is no multi-channel/surround-sound option.

Now a quick observation about the content before moving on. Unlike many box-set reissues from various labels (particularly SONY and Universal), Warner has seen fit to fill the discs to maximum capacity, rather than replicate the original releases, which typically offered very short playing times. Hence, this new set offers convenience and value for money.3 Excellent! And the Symphonies are presented complete, in chronological order (i.e. with no breaks over multiple discs, as we saw on the CDs). Again, Excellent! However, as this set concentrates solely on Muti’s Philharmonia Tchaikovsky (primarily the 6 Symphonies), missing are any of the "extras" Muti recorded later with the Philadelphia Orchestra. Therefore, some of what we got in previous Muti collections, we don’t get in this one. Most regrettably: Hamlet (1989), Francesca da Rimini (1991), and ballet suites from Sleeping Beauty and Swan Lake (1984).4 Also missing (perhaps less lamentably): Serenade for Strings and 1812 Overture (both 1981), and the digital remake of Romeo and Juliet (1988).

PART TWO - what it sounds like
I started with Romeo and Juliet (1976) - first on the new SACD. And ... the results were decidedly underwhelming. First off, the transfer level is very low; I had to crank up the volume several notches from normal just to hear the opening woodwinds. Once a realistic level was established, I thought the sound was curiously 2-dimensional and lackluster; gray even. Consulting the booklet, I confirmed this was recorded in Abbey Road Studios (as were a majority of these recordings) - and it sounds like it. As the upper winds and strings entered, the sound began to lighten up a bit and grew a bit more colorful. But at the main Allegro, about 6 minutes in, the sound got louder certainly, but failed to fully open up (and air out) as expected. Oh it is dramatic for sure, and the strings whip up a fury, just as I had remembered, but this is definitely not a modern-day digital SACD in amplitude, dynamic range, or spaciousness. The hall sounds confined, stuffy and airless compared to what we’d expect to hear today.
 
Disconcerted, I stopped here and played the CD from the 2011 EMI box set, which utilized the original 1986 digital remastering. And astonishingly, the transfer level is lower still. I had to raise the volume a couple more notches yet to match the SACD. And as it played on, I was shocked at how remarkably similar it sounded to the new SACD. But at about that same 6-minute mark, the sound grew just a bit more congested than before, and the strings became a bit less incisive, while the acoustic lost some of its clarity. Not that it was all that clear on the SACD, but it was a little bit clearer than on the CD. So back to the SACD I went, listening to the same passages again, and sure enough, the SACD is indeed a bit cleaner and more articulate, and the strings a bit more fulsome. But seriously, the emphasis on those descriptions is "a bit". The improvements, in all reality, are very subtle, even on a good stereo system. In fact, the differences are much more subtle than those I heard when comparing the newly remastered Dorati Haydn Symphonies on Decca to their original counterparts.

Disappointed already, I begin to realize that even SACD can’t work miracles. (Either that, or the remastering engineer hasn’t done an adequate job of it.) And perhaps my expectations were set unrealistically high from the get go. But I decided to forge ahead and try a few more sections before giving up hope.
 
Symphony #2 is a favorite, and Abbado’s CBS digital recording with the Chicago Symphony has been my benchmark for decades. So how does Muti compare after all this time? Well he hammers it home with plenty of power and drama. But unfortunately, the closed-in, cramped, stuffy recording does him no favors. And the SACD helps little. Comparisons here are nearly identical to that heard in Romeo and Juliet, so I might just as well cut and paste. (But I won’t.) Starting with the SACD, as the main Allegro of the first movement really heats up and the orchestra comes powering in at the first ff passage (at about 4-1/2 minutes), the strings are somewhat forward in the mix and the brass audibly bounce off the back wall with nowhere to go, unable to expand. And the soundstage just collapses onto itself. There are reasonable dynamics and plenty of gusto from the orchestra, but it is weighed down under a blanket of claustrophobia. Going to the CD, that same passage sounds very similar, but slightly worse still. It’s even muddier now and the bass range is mush - although I do believe the soundstage is ever so slightly more expansive and natural in its portrayal of the magnitude of a full symphony orchestra. So yes, I do hear a difference, and yes, the SACD is an improvement - sort of. But is it significant? No; it still doesn't sound very good, just in slightly different ways. Nonetheless, that ending, with all its unstoppable momentum and very dramatic timpani, is just as thrilling as it ever was.

Interested to hear if the sound improves in Kingsway Hall, I listened to the last two movements of the First Symphony, recorded 2 years earlier (1975). And yes, the sound is slightly better, but still not anywhere near satisfactory by current standards. It is a little more brightly lit and a little airier, and perhaps a bit more open, but still fairly cramped and muffled, especially on climaxes. And the CD sounds about the same as the SACD.

In Symphony #5, also from Kingsway Hall, but three years later (1978), the sound is better - on both formats. But the SACD offers no material improvements over the CD. If anything, I thought the SACD was actually a bit brash on the big brass outbursts, including an overblown rasp to the horns. And though it revealed maybe a touch more spaciousness to the hall than the CD does, the CD countered with revealing more inner detail in the midrange (particularly in the woodwinds), and presents a slightly more harmonious, less forced, orchestral blend. Muti is positively ablaze in this symphony, likely demanding more from this orchestra than they could comfortably deliver at the time, and the SACD seems to push it perhaps a little too far in that direction. I would have expected the SACD to be more refined than the CD, but it isn't. Just the opposite, actually. The CD would be my preference here.
 
The same with the Piano Concerto, recorded a year later, though back at Abbey Road. Starting with the CD this time around, it sounds better than I remembered. In fact, it actually sounds pretty good! - noticeably better than Symphony #2 for sure. The strings are full, with a bit of air on top of the violins; and the piano, though a little boxy, has some of that Steinway "ping" to it. So I'm enjoying this. Going to the SACD, I was surprised to hear the strings lose a bit of their sheen and some of the passion in their big famous tune at the beginning, and the orchestra now sounds a bit boxed in - more unemotional - with the brass bouncing off the back wall with nowhere to expand. Worst of all, the sound is thinned out on the SACD - markedly so. The orchestra has lost some of its richness and color, replaced with an electronic glaze. The orchestra sounds thin and cold, which I didn't like at all. I had to confirm for certain that I was really listening to the SACD. (I was.) Curiously, the piano tone sounds about the same on both formats.

The results in Symphony #4 were very similar - and just as detrimental. Again starting with the CD, I thought those opening brass fanfares sounded absolutely splendid - full-bodied, with great focus and immediacy, within a reasonably spacious hall. But switching to the SACD, the orchestra sounds strikingly thinner - lacking body and fullness within a somewhat artificial-sounding acoustic. Moreover, the dynamics seem clipped on those ff orchestral chords. I simply can't imagine a producer thinking this was in any way beneficial, let alone an improvement over the source material. On the other hand, in the 4th movement, dynamics are a bit more explosive on the SACD, though exposing more obviously a bit of overload distortion as well. So I can't begin to understand, let alone explain, what's happening with the "remastering" here.

Finally before I go, I wanted to try Manfred, remembering the booklet's statement that it has been enhanced with AI upscaling. Oh yeah? This should be interesting; I haven't been impressed with Warner's remastering yet, so will this be any different? It is an original digital recording rather than analog like all the others, and it was recorded in Kingsway Hall rather than Abbey Road Studios, so it will likely sound better for those reasons alone. And it does. The dramatic opening of the 4th movement is more open and immediate on this SACD than anything I've heard thus far, and the orchestra has a more realistic size and magnitude to it - though still not what one would hear on a modern SACD. Fortunately, I hear absolutely nothing out of the ordinary to indicate that some newfangled "AI enhancement" has been involved in any way. And it sounds really good.

Performing my due diligence, I loaded the CD in the tray, expecting to hear similar results (due to its digital origins), and much to my utter astonishment, the CD sounds even better than the SACD! It is instantly, and obviously, more present and impactful - open, spacious and dynamic. The orchestra is suddenly right there in front of me in a more palpable (almost tangible) way. The brass have more bite (which is good), along with more incisiveness and clarity to the body of strings (which is also good). I am dumbfounded, and again take a moment to confirm I'm listening to what I think I am, double- and triple- checking that it is the CD. (I even looked specifically at the display on the disc player, which is boldly illuminating "CD" in big capital letters.) To hear Muti's ferocity unleashed, at last unconstrained by the recording - well, this performance sounds great! And really, for the first time in these listening sessions, I'm excited. BUT - alas, this is the CD, not the new SACD. (Sigh...)

This was an interesting listening experience; and I found the results complexing. In a nutshell, I hear the earlier symphonies as being freshened rather than transformed. I was really hoping more could have been done to open up the soundstage and bring a bit more spaciousness, clarity and dynamics to them - which they desperately needed. Conversely in some of the later ones, the SACDs are somewhat inferior with regard to richness and warmth, and in some cases (but not always), even dynamic range. Moreover, they tend to expose some of the flaws in the originals perhaps more than we want to hear. We’ll never know if this is all the result of the technical process used, or perhaps a certain lack of dedication and/or expertise; or merely that the source material was the determining factor. Nevertheless, I admit being surprised that the 192/24-bit remastering, in and of itself, didn't do more to improve the sound, in ways we've heard from other labels which achieve such success when utilizing this process (most notably SONY and DECCA).5 

PART THREE - is it worth it?
Which leads me back to the question I raised at the top: Is it worth it? Well sure - for those coming to these classic recordings for the first time, wanting to acquire them in a convenient, relatively inexpensive box. But even more for those like me with a predilection for SACD and a sound-system of sufficient quality to appreciate such things. But I have to admit that the results are so variable (and unexpected), I have reservations. And let me expound on that. First and foremost, the differences throughout are largely subtle. As a matter of fact, I had to continually double-check myself to ensure which I was listening to at any given time, the SACD or the CD. It was not always easy to determine just by listening. And in those instances where differences can be for certain identified, I heard them as not really all that musically significant - at least not to the magnitude I was expecting from SACD. I mean, SACD can only do so much given the source material, and they are at times complimentary, and other times counterproductive.

So the real question is, Is it worth it enough to make a difference? Hand on heart, I would have to say, no, not really. Ultimately, it’s the performances from a trailblazing conductor in his prime which are the main (and only) attraction here. (Even the Philharmonia are not fully restored to their absolute finest yet.) So for most folks, I would suggest this new Warner reissue is not worth it if you already own one of EMI’s previous CD collections - which in all truthfulness, sound about as good as these can get, and offer more music, including some of Muti’s later Philadelphia recordings. And when you take into account that some of these actually sound better on the original CDs (depending on your preferences and sound system), well, that may be the deciding factor for many.

I had high hopes for this release, but in the end, it proved itself to be a "major label" production in practically every way - from the booklet's lack of updated, comprehensive information and the old-fashioned, clunky, hard plastic CD case, to the vagueness about the disc/audio formats and, ultimately, the sound itself. That the producers found it acceptable for some of these to actually sound worse than their original 40-year-old counterparts, but went ahead with it anyway, is not only disingenuous, but indicative that insufficient effort went into it - as if they just ran it through a digital filter, transferred it onto SACD, and called it a day. Quick, easy, inexpensive. As opposed to taking the time and effort to carefully remaster each recording with listening discernment, refining each one as necessary and appropriate to get the most out of it and ensure it will sound the best it possibly can. But that would have been time-consuming and more expensive, which isn't something Warner is likely to be interested in. In fact, they don't even list a remaster engineer in the booklet, merely "remastered by Parlophone Records" - though, curiously, a seemingly contradictory statement on the back cover states "by Studio Circe". Whatever. That SACD symbol on the front sure looks impressive! Therefore it must be good, right?

What I thought would be an exciting undertaking, reacquainting myself with these treasurable recordings, and hearing them anew compared to the old CDs, turned out to be something of a disappointment. However it was immensely rewarding to hear once again just how good Muti's Tchaikovsky was, and fond memories came flooding back. We certainly have Warner to thank for sparking renewed interest in this set of recordings, and I acknowledge wholeheartedly that I was expecting something which could not realistically be delivered. These recordings are what they are and we shouldn't expect miracles - that somehow these recordings would magically be transformed into sounding brand new. And yet...I can't help feeling they could have sounded better than they do.

I realize I did not evaluate every Symphony (or even every track of the ones I did), however I can't imagine hearing anything different going any further, just for the sake of completeness. And truthfully, I had had enough of it after a while. Coming upon this set with more reasonable expectations, I suspect many may appreciate the benefits of this production more than I did.

1 I only bought 3 of them at the time, mostly out of curiosity: Du Pre's Elgar/Delius Cello Concertos; Richter's Dvorak/Grieg/Schumann Piano Concertos; and Oistrakh's Beethoven Triple Concerto/Brahms Double. I heard so little improvement in sound, I gave up on them.
2 Symphonies #1 & 5 and Manfred were recorded in Kingsway Hall; all the rest were at Abbey Road.
3 Disc 1 - 75’ (Syms. 1 & 2); Disc 2 - 83’; (Syms. 3 & 4); Disc 3 - 67’ (Sym. 5, Romeo and Juliet); Disc 4 - 84’ (Sym. 6, Piano Concerto); and Disc 5 - 58’ (Manfred).
4 His recording of the ballet suites was the very first CD I ever bought, way back in 1986. And I still remember hearing it for the first time. I was absolutely awestruck by the sound of CD - the silence of it; the dynamic range; the clarity; the sheer magnificence of an orchestra recreated in my living room as never before. I still own that original CD, despite it being reissued many times; and with over 10,000 CDs in my collection now, I still think it’s awesome.
5 I did briefly try the CD layer on a couple of these SACDs and heard sound which is very similar to both the original CD and the SACD. From what little I sampled, however, I would suggest the CD layer of the SACDs might be the best-sounding format of the 3, and I might have to explore this further at some point. 

That’s the question. Well…let me be more specific. Why can’t Chandos sound engineer, Ralph Couzens, achieve consistency with the recorded sound of the Sinfonia of London? Why is that so difficult? They record in the same venue (some big church) every time; so he surely has a mapping schematic for where he hangs his microphones. (Heck, the wires probably hang there permanently, so he doesn’t even have to move them.) So why is the sound so different from one recording to another? And more specifically, not just different, but good vs not so good.
 
Let me back up. I was ready to be absolutely done with John Wilson after his lame Walton 1st last year. I have a feeling Chandos producer Brian Pidgeon may have had some reservations with it as well, because their final Walton installment (Symphony #2) is nowhere in sight.1 Instead, Chandos has shrewdly decided to release two guaranteed crowd-pleasers next. This one of relatively rare Puccini orchestral works just came out in March, and a collection of lollipops featuring The Sorcerer’s Apprentice comes out in May. I think Mr. Pidgeon knows what he’s doing most of the time, and is likely thinking these interim releases will bring the faithful Wilson fans back for sure, no matter how bad his Walton was. Then later, at some point, he’ll dump that final Walton installment on the market, hoping by then people will give him another chance on "serious" repertoire.
 
Fine. But getting back to my original subject, I ponder all this because the sound on this Puccini disc is absolutely sensational. It is very different from that heard in Walton's First Symphony. The orchestra here is given enormous presence and impact - dynamic, energetic, powerful and full-bodied (but not too forward) - the exact attributes which were demonstrably lacking in their Walton. So why does Puccini merit this powerhouse dynamic range from an orchestra but not Walton’s First Symphony - a piece which absolutely requires it; indeed demands it? Good question with no apparent answer. I can’t begin to imagine what Mr. Couzens hears on his headphones when he’s monitoring and editing his recordings. Why did wimpy, anemic, woefully underpowered Walton sound good enough to him to go ahead and consider it a finished product? And then decide months later that Puccini - of all composers - deserved the knock-your-socks-off treatment from this same orchestra?
 
Not to belabor the point (but I will anyway), I have always asserted that the success of John Wilson has always been as much the Chandos recorded sound as any inherent ability he possesses as a conductor. I mean, let’s be honest, he’s really not that great a conductor. But more often than not, Chandos rescues him time and again with spectacular sound which almost (but not quite) convinces us he’s better than he is. This Puccini disc is a perfect example. But they failed him miserably in Walton’s 1st; and in his Rachmaninoff 1st and Symphonic Dances. (Oh and let’s not forget his Daphnis and Chloe, arguably the worst of all.) And why is that? Why the disparity, recording to recording, from the same engineer working in the same hall with the same orchestra with the same conductor for the same record label? I just don’t get it.2
 
As to Wilson’s Puccini, I’m not going to get into great detail about it. It’s Puccini. And it’s a novel and appealing idea to gather all this uncommon miscellany together for one program. (The CD plays for 63 minutes.) So people will be drawn to it for that reason alone. And typical of John Wilson in this kind of stuff, he drives headlong through a majority of it. And Couzens delivers sound with all the punch and pizzaz you could want. He even manages to capture the bass drum and timpani with realist presence and semblance of power - which were so completely MIA in Walton’s 1st, they might as well have been in another building down the block.
 
It’s reassuring to hear that this orchestra really can produce this kind of powerful involvement when they want to, and its brass (and percussion) really do have the chops when they feel like it. But does it really befit Puccini? Wouldn’t this sound have been better suited for Walton than Puccini? Not that I’m necessarily complaining; it’s thrilling to hear Wilson's orchestra come alive and produce something which demonstrates their professional roots. That being said, musically, I hear this Puccini as over-the-top and ruthlessly rushed most of the time. Wilson seems determined to drum up all the energy his Walton lacked, as if to say, “I’ll show them!” And he should; he absolutely needs to redeem himself. But in Puccini?
 
To be fair, there are some wonderful things here - moments of real passion, even some fleeting tenderness. And the strings are glorious - just as they used to be years ago. They have strayed far away from gloriousness in recent recordings - leaner and thinner, with a fast, tight vibrato. But here, they are rich and full-bodied, with a voluptuous vibrato appropriate for an opera composer. And they are well-behaved; that horrid, super-duper-fast, frantic, hysterical vibrato they were producing there for a while is gone. And as mentioned above, the brass have decided to join the proceedings and bring some dynamics with them. And Wilson lets them have at it in all the right places. And he relaxes beautifully when called for, even to the point of delightfulness in the Three Minuetti, arranged here for string orchestra, which turns out to be the most musically rewarding item on the entire program (at least to these ears). Elsewhere, though, there is a lot of gratuitous melodrama and histrionics, whipped into a frenzy for the sake of the microphones. And as such, it is undeniably very exciting - if that’s how you like your Puccini. 
 
I have to stop myself when I start to say, ‘This is what Wilson does best.’ No, this is what Ralph Couzens does best. And John Wilson is just along for the ride. Ultimately, if you want maximum drama and high voltage from Puccini, this collection will definitely fit the bill, especially with such great recorded sound. 

It will be interesting to hear their upcoming disc of lollipops. Will Wilson rush his way through it with lots of surface flash and bravado, or will he commit to making something more meaningful and produce a good record? (It’s hit and miss with John Wilson.) We can almost certainly be assured, though, that Couzens will deliver another sonic spectacular for it (after all, that’s what he does best), before unassumingly releasing his final Walton installment, kinda hoping no one will really notice.
 
We shall see.

1 Perhaps he took to heart some reviews, from American reviewers in particular, which were actually honest about it, rather than relying solely on his friends and cohorts there in Europe who love to write how they love everything and everything is just GREAT!
2 Or it could be that this orchestra simply can't deliver big results in big works like these, and there's only so much the engineer can do. That's a definite possibility.

I was drawn to this disc for one reason. Joseph Phibbs. Seeing that he wrote a new work enticed me into acquiring this release from Toccata Classics. In all honesty, I wouldn’t have been terribly interested in a CD of bass clarinet concertos. But I took a chance on it, because if anyone could make me enjoy a bass clarinet concerto, it would be Joseph Phibbs.
 
The front cover initially aroused curiosity. It lists the composers (presumably) in alphabetical order, rather than in the order their music is played on the program. And I wondered about the album’s “Music from Malmo” theme, as I noticed one of the concertos is played by Musica Vitae, which is based in Vaxjo, not Malmo. But reading in the (excellent) booklet that all 3 works were recorded in Malmo Live Concert Hall (road trip for Musica Vitae!), and the soloist is a member of the Malmo Symphony, it all begins to make more sense.
 
As to the music, the three composers represented here come from differing backgrounds - Phibbs, London; Dafgard, Sweden; and Gordon, USA/UK. So it’s no wonder their music sounds so uniquely individual.

Joseph Phibbs has been a favorite of mine ever since I heard his Clarinet Concerto on a 2019 Signum Classics recording of it. Then his 4 String Quartets made an even stronger impression - the 1st from 2014, the next three just last year, all recorded by the wonderful Piatti Quartet. I admit I was a little disappointed that he returned to the clarinet for this latest work (albeit the bass this time) rather than something completely different. (Oh how I’d love to hear a violin or piano concerto from him.) But never mind; anything from this wonderful composer is cause for celebration. And I was glad his concerto comes first on the program.
 
The opening movement starts with a lyrical Notturno marked largo, but appealingly kept moving along more like a Moderato. It is a bit pensive, even melancholy, before the main allegro takes flight. It is marked presto but doesn’t really sound all that fast (maybe because of the sheer weight of the bass clarinet). It is propelled by invigorating rhythmic patterns, with the orchestra the driving force. There are even occasional hints of jazz in some of the more energetic orchestral exclamations which had me smiling right away. In fact, the orchestra is such a dominating factor, I often forgot about the bass clarinet altogether! The colorful orchestration and rhythmic vitality continually captivate one’s interest - so much so, I actually wished this was a purely orchestral work, rather than a concerto, as the unique and wonderful sound of Joseph Phibbs is brilliantly on display.
 
The Scherzo is another presto, and this time sounds more like one. This instantly reminds me of a space/science-fiction film score - and that’s certainly a compliment coming from me! The bass clarinet is more importantly incorporated into the musical fabric here, with interesting interplay between soloist and various sections of the orchestra. It’s all very rhythmic, with lots of punctuated interjections from the orchestra, interspersed with a couple of brief, reflective interludes before it takes off again. Excellent!
 
And then the rather lengthy Larghetto, pensive and full of longing, provides the soloist the opportunity to display an impressive, sustained legato. But it was here I began to crave a different sonority after a while. The bass clarinet is simply not capable of producing the myriad variety of color and texture that, say, a cello inherently can - with variations in bowing and vibrato, not to mention double/triple stops, pizzicato, etc. The bass clarinet is just what it is and not much more. So it falls to the orchestration to provide the variety of color needed to keep the listener fully engaged. And Phibbs excels at this. There’s even a dramatic climatic passage from the orchestra in the middle of this movement further demonstrating this.
 
The final Allegro is fleet and vibrant, and the bass clarinet tries its best to be nimble enough to keep up. (I almost wished it were an octave higher on a standard clarinet). But the music sweeps one along until, about a minute in, everything comes to an abrupt halt and a lengthy cadenza ensues - which is surprisingly slow and brooding; nothing like the Allegro on either side of it. And soon thereafter, the piece just…ends. Again very abruptly, leaving me wanting more. (This movement lasts just over 3 minutes.)
 
As a concerto for a somewhat challenging instrument, Phibbs succeeds completely - not unlike similar works by American composer, Kenneth Fuchs, whose concertos for electric guitar (ahem) and bass trombone are memorable almost entirely for the orchestral contribution and orchestration rather than the soloistic writing. But I realize this commission was for a bass clarinet concerto, and that is what Mr. Phibbs has expertly provided, with all the creative ingenuity he possesses. I would imagine bass clarinet players everywhere will find this piece a gift from the gods; and probably a lot of clarinetists will be dusting off their basses to play it as well!
 
Let me interject here that the recorded sound is superb, as is the orchestral contribution from the Malmo Symphony Orchestra conducted by Joachim Gustafsson. These attributes contribute significantly to the success of this piece. (I will expound on this more at the end.)

Up next, Jorgen Dafgard adds a solo violin to his bass clarinet, but reduces the orchestra to just strings. So it has a distinctly different sound. The opening Freschezza is rhapsodic, rather than dramatic, with glamorous orchestration. (One can hardly believe this is just a string orchestra.) The violin certainly adds much needed variety of tone and color (not to mention, range), and immediately assumes a prominent role. Curiously, the bass clarinet just kind of broods along rather indistinctly underneath, almost as an afterthought - particularly in the (much too long) misterioso second movement. However, there is some very attractive and interesting interplay between the two soloists in the final Rustico, which is definitely the highlight of the piece. It is jovial and a little quirky, befitting the instrumentation. (Pairing a violin and bass clarinet is, in itself, a little quirky.) The Vitae chamber group is enormously characterful and pleasantly energetic from beginning to end. Their contribution makes a significant and memorable impression in this.
 
Now the final concerto by Geoffrey Gordon. Though he was born in the USA, he focuses his time and creative energy in the UK (for unspecified reasons). Interestingly, this concerto was a joint commission by the Philharmonia and Minnesota Orchestras, the Malmo Symphony and their bass clarinetist, Carl-Johan Stjernstrom. (One wonders how all that managed to come about.) After Dafgard’s distinctive double concerto, we immediately return to the somewhat gloomy primary voice of the bass clarinet as we begin Part I. But it doesn’t last long. Soon, the orchestra claims dominance over the proceedings with some very dramatic punctuations interrupting the soloist's melodic line, developing into something not unlike a suspense/thriller movie soundtrack. (And again, this is a compliment coming from me.) This composer skillfully incorporates the bass clarinet into his dark and very dynamic score, which predominantly features a massive orchestra in a massive way - replete with an absolutely awesome bass drum, cushioned on humongous pillows of air, captured with genuine size, weight and amplitude by the engineer. What a delectable sonic treat that is! (And surprisingly rare to hear with such stunning realism on a recording.)
 
Part II is much the same, a bit more dissonant and overtly brassy than before, but just as dark and dramatic. The bass clarinet assumes a more prominent role musically, becoming an authoritative and more interesting soloist. Some eerie string glissandi and rhythmic chugging create a marvelous atmosphere which adds to the suspense and intrigue, occasionally reminding me of Bartok’s Miraculous Mandarin. Part III is more intriguing still, and even more suspenseful, with lots of dark color from the orchestra and extremely wide range from the soloist (way up high for that instrument) - superbly played here.
 
By the time we get to IV, I admit I was longing for some variety of mood and temperament (not to mention tempo) after 20 minutes of this already. But it doesn’t come. Gordon continues with the brooding, suspenseful mood of the piece, though some interesting percussion parts sprinkled about add some tantalizing sonic touches. (I wish there was more of this.) And there are some imposing purely orchestral interludes as well. Again, this sounds much like movie music, making me wonder if Gordon has scored any films. He'd be excellent at it.
 
While I wouldn’t have expected to enjoy an entire album of music featuring the bass clarinet, I must say this is a complete success - for several reasons. First and foremost is the mastery of the composers. Never did any of this music sound contrived; nor did any of it sound like just another “on-demand” commission. This music comes from truly accomplished composers - creative, innovative and inspired. Best of all, each of the three works sounds distinctly different from one another, providing enough variety in the program to hold one's interest throughout. That 3 bass clarinet concertos can sound absolutely nothing alike is quite amazing, actually.
 
Second, the playing of Carl-Johan Stjernstrom is exceptional. Most impressive is the consistency of his sound from top to bottom - never strained (or screechy) up high and never honking down low. He truly is a world-class bass clarinet player. And the orchestral support he receives from conductor Joachim Gustafsson is simply superb. What an absolute pleasure (and real rarity) to hear an orchestra playing something completely out of their normal routine, encountering something so new (and so accomplished) that it inspires them to play with enthusiasm, commitment and engaging involvement. Their contribution alone makes this album worth hearing; it immerses the listener into the music in ways we rarely experience - especially in unusual concertos like these, especially on a recording. 
 
And finally, the recorded sound is absolutely stupendous. Chandos has more than met its match with this CD from Toccata Classics. In some ways, this is more natural and realistic than the typical bold, upfront Chandos house sound. In fact, for sheer accomplishment of recorded orchestral sound, this is one of the most impressive orchestral recordings I’ve heard in a long time. The orchestra (particularly the full Malmo Symphony) expands effortlessly into the acoustic with stunning amplitude and breathtaking dynamic power. All the while, the hall envelopes them in spaciousness, adorned in rich color and beauty of sound, utterly natural in its portrayal of a magnificent symphony orchestra in all its glory.* And to the engineer, Daniel Davidsen's inestimable credit, the soloist is never overwhelmed by it all - which is no mean feat, given its entire range is right there in the thick of the orchestra's midrange. 
 
As you might have guessed from the title of this review, I was afraid this was going to be too much of the same thing for an entire CD - over 81 minutes playing time! But that was not the case. There is so much variety on offer here, the program is rewarding musically, and a knockout sonically. This CD motivates me to explore more titles from Toccata Classics (and the Malmo Symphony - what a concert hall!). This is, quite simply, a fantastic recording.
 
*And it’s not even SACD! This is good old-fashioned CD - proving once again, when done right, the CD can still be a state-of-the-art recording format/playback medium - even more so today than ever before. I would proclaim this recording the equal of just about any SACD I've heard.

I was excited to see this new box set of the complete Haydn symphonies from Antal Dorati and the Philharmonia Hungarica. Not only is it claimed to be newly remastered, it includes a fascinating booklet detailing the history of the orchestra, the recording project, the conductor, the production etc. And, of course, the performances are legendary. This is widely regarded as the most thoroughly rewarding complete set of the Haydn symphonies ever recorded. And I wholeheartedly agree (with a smattering of exceptions here and there). From beginning to end, they are warm but incisive, smiling yet invigorating, full of joy, and beautifully recorded. Most of all, there is a consistency and freshness throughout, without even a hint of routine setting in.
 
The performances speak for themselves, so what I want to concentrate on is the much-anticipated 24-bit/192kHz remastering touted by this new production. I’ll say right up front, while the sound is indeed improved here - sometimes subtly, sometimes notably, and sometimes remarkably - it becomes incrementally better as it goes on, as the orchestra gradually increases in size progressing into the later symphonies. (Though this wasn't necessarily a consistent observation, as noted below, in some of the earlier symphonies.)
 
That being said, I wonder how much of the improvements actually come from being transferred from the original master tapes (which I highly doubt Decca used in previous CD reissues) as the 24/192 transfer method itself. In fact, the outer box of this production doesn’t actually use the word “remaster”, but “transfer”. So whether it's technically a true remastering per se, or merely a new transfer (at 24/192) from the original tapes is debatable, though there is a remastering engineer listed in the booklet. So make of that what you will. And really, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is what the end result sounds like. And I've made some observations on what I hear when comparing the old to the new.
 
First - and this is important - for comparisons, I used my 1991, 8-volume set (of 4-CDs each, in the hard-case boxes with the attractive blue trays) which utilized the ubiquitous “ADRM” remastering typical of Decca in the 80s and 90s. They took up A LOT of space, but were glorious at the time - though I always thought the remastering could have been better.1
 
To get an idea of what this new release offers sonically, I sampled several tracks, back-to-back, from a few random symphonies, then progressed to more extended sections of some of the later ones. I began with Symphony #76 (on CD 22), for no other reason than I like it, and listened to the 1991 CD first (henceforth referred to as the “original” or the “old”, for simplicity). I was amazed at how warm, airy and positively lovely it sounded. I immediately thought, uh-oh, the remastered version surely can’t better this. And in some ways it doesn’t. The newer one (the “new”) is transferred at a slightly higher level, so initially it seemed more dynamic. But that was a misperception. After adjusting the volume to match the other CD as closely as possible (only a notch or two on the volume knob), the difference is subtle. It is a tad clearer and more present, but loses just a touch of that lovely inner glow. So it’s a toss-up so far.
 
Jumping ahead next to #79, again for no particular reason, I hear something a bit different. There is just a touch of darkness to the original that I hadn’t noticed in #76, and it sounds a bit closed in; a bit confined. Hmmm. Going to the new, it is noticeably more open and airy, with silkier string sound, as if there are a few more violins than before. Again though, it’s fairly subtle, but becomes a bit more obvious now.
 
In #82, the original again displays a hint of congestion in the midrange and lower mids, but now also an edge to the violins which I hadn’t noticed in the earlier symphonies. The newer CD is definitely more open in the midrange, but with a bit of emphasis in the bass, though the timpani are better defined and more articulate. So that’s interesting. Most remarkably though, the edge on the violins is entirely absent. They are silky and airy - absolutely glorious.
 
Continuing with this same disc (CD 24), I was curious to hear Symphony #83, which is more dramatic musically and in a minor key, so I expected the differences to be even more pronounced. And they are. This time I started my listening with the newer one (as it was already in the disc player). The sound is open and airy, and the orchestra sounds slightly bigger-boned, but wonderfully transparent in texture and inner detail. So even though it sounds to be a slightly larger orchestra, the recorded sound is just as clean and clear. But there is still a touch of plumpness in the bass which was somewhat bothersome. But on the other end of the spectrum, these violins sing just as sweetly as you please, yet with crisp, precise articulation. Now going to the original CD, it is a bit warmer and more relaxed, and interestingly, the bass isn’t as prominent as on the remastered version. It is better incorporated into the orchestral fabric, due, I think, to the slightly fuller, warmer midrange. So that’s interesting. But overall, it is less incisive and just a touch weightier, and thus less propulsive. So even with the bass anomaly, I’ll take the newer over the older any day. And on #87, I thought the remastered violins sounded just a touch bright (but not edgy), but going to the original, they were thinner still.
 
Now jumping ahead to some of the more familiar/popular symphonies in the set, I began listening to longer sections, often complete tracks. Starting with the original (1991) CD, Symphony #96 ("Miracle") is just dumpy and cramped, hampering full enjoyment of the music. Here we have a fuller orchestra, and this is where the new transfer really comes into its own, with sound which is more open, more alive and more articulate. Listening to several complete tracks from the symphonies which follow, it became increasingly more difficult to listen to the originals for extended sessions, as the ear craved the extra clarity, transparency and engaging involvement the newer set provides. Each and every time, going back to the original, I was continually made aware of the recording itself, which sounded a bit muddy and confined. While the warmth and richness of sound were pleasurable, the music just sounded slower, and the irrepressible joy of Haydn was ever so slightly curtailed. Listening to the new remastered CDs drew me into the music in ways the originals simply could not.

Out of curiosity, I did a final round of spot checks on some of the earliest symphonies to determine consistency throughout the set. And this proved enlightening. In Symphony #44, just as in #76, the differences were very subtle, with the newer CD offering ever so slightly cleaner and silkier violins and a slightly fuller body of sound. And again, this was after a single notch adjustment of the volume to compensate for the slightly higher transfer level. Interestingly, #45 was somewhat more obvious, providing a fuller, smoother and silkier string section. Going back further to Disc 2, Symphony #6 ("Le Matin"; "morning") sounded distant and slightly misty on the older CD, and the cellos/basses were curiously quite muddled. I had to turn the volume up several notches to get any kind of immediacy from the orchestra, which was unusual. The newer one was an instant and obvious improvement - notably fresher and more involving, providing the orchestra a more lifelike presence.

However, on my last comparison, here is where things got interesting. Listening to Symphony #13 (CD 4), I found myself so drawn into the music, I sat back, relaxed, and just listened for a few minutes, taking in the wonderful musicmaking. I noted lovely, warm string sound within a lovely acoustic, and most notably, cellos cushioned on pillows of air in the most glorious way. I was ready to definitively proclaim the new remastering an unequivocal success and finish up this review accordingly. When much to my surprise, I suddenly realized I was actually listening to the older 1991 CD! I was certain I had loaded the newer one in the player; but I was mistaken. Dumbfounded, I switched it out for the newer one, and sure enough, some of that cushion of air was replaced with a slightly leaner body of sound to the cellos and a clearer acoustic. It still sounded wonderful, smooth and articulate, but not quite as alluring. Was it an improvement? Nah. It was just slightly different. So there's no denying that, at least on some tracks, the differences may not always be perceived as an improvement. And this little "senior moment", while a little embarrassing, proved exactly that.2 

I believe I've carefully, and as honestly as possible, described the differences one can expect to hear from the new set. Based on what I hear on my system, I can confidently state that the improvements are real - and audibly significant to those who care about such things. I will also say, that even in the symphonies where I heard the most pronounced differences, in the overall scheme of things, if you don’t have a high quality sound system which excels at revealing audiophile details like this, you may have to listen very hard to appreciate the improvements in sound. (And if you’re listening on your computer or earbuds, you probably won’t notice any difference at all.) In which case, you may wonder how one can possibly justify the cost of this, especially if you already own one of the previous issues. And I certainly understand. Indeed, they still sound quite wonderful - and as I discovered in at least a couple of instances, perhaps even "better", depending on your preferences. But overall, when compared with the newer transfers, the remastering generally provides sound which, in a nutshell, is clearer and more articulate, opens up the soundstage, and mitigates the edge on the violins (and the occasional thinness up high), allowing me to appreciate the performances even more than before, and become more fully immersed in the glories of Haydn. But it ultimately depends on your listening environment and personal preferences.
 
As to the production, it is first class all the way. Having all of Haydn’s Symphonies in updated sound and an attractive, relatively compact box is a luxury (although I don't particularly like the very tight cardboard sleeves the discs are imprisoned in). However, Decca includes extras here which I was not terribly interested in (the Oratorios and such), which of course increases the price commensurately. But I can confidently say, as a box set of the symphonies alone, it is worth it - not only for the convenience, but most certainly for the improved sound, no matter how it might be perceived on some playback equipment. For me, these remastered recordings overall are simply more rewarding and enjoyable than before - more involving, compelling and life-affirming.   
 
Postscript.
Typical - and totally predictable - availability is immediately an issue with this box set. And speaking of price, it has been all over the place. Amazon initially listed this as a preorder for $209. But once it became available and a “positive review” immediately appeared in their review section (and it is hardly a review; succinct and very generalized in its observations - more like assumptions - it reads rather like a marketing blurb), the item went out of stock immediately thereafter and the price has subsequently jumped up substantially. (It is listed anywhere from $250 to $350 (!) right now, available only from 3rd-party Marketplace sellers who are exploiting its lack of availability.) Meanwhile, Presto Classical (in the UK) offers it at just under $230 (and they’re currently showing it in stock), but their shipping cost to the U.S. is prohibitively expensive. (And to be fair, it is a fairly big, quite heavy box.) So that’s completely out of the question. So perseverance is the key.3 But do try to get it sooner rather than later; who knows how long Decca will keep it in print.

1 I have not heard the subsequent boxed sets issued in 2006 and 2009, which were, to the best of my recollection, just repackaged in cheaper, more manageable boxes, without any updated audio remastering.
2 I'm confident this is the only time that little mix up occurred. And in my defense, I had just been distracted by a call or text or something, and immediately caught myself before continuing on.
3 I managed to get mine from a European seller (through Amazon) who just happened to list it one day for $167 plus $3.99 shipping. I jumped on it instantly. So putting this review in context, my justification for its cost-effectiveness is based on what I paid for it, as opposed to its current price - though I doubt my opinion of it would change regardless.

I tried. I really did. But here’s the thing. Compositional merit aside, the recording itself is what really bothers me on this Pentatone CD.

Approaching something as bizarre as this, everything must work in its favor if one is to gain any kind of appreciation or understanding of it. Exceptionally accomplished execution of course, but even more, especially in this case, natural, realistic, alluring recorded sound is absolutely paramount. What Pentatone has contrived here doesn't exactly deliver that. 

Most problematic - it sounds like the group is recorded at a distance, rendering the many extended soft sections (where virtually nothing is happening) largely inaudible on the home stereo system. (Even the faint hum of the refrigerator in another room is distracting.) So one is almost forced to listen on headphones - which I don't like. If you’re going to record something like this, at least be practical about it and make it realistically listenable. And as I discovered, headphones actually exacerbate my primary issues with the recorded sound itself.

First and foremost, the silences are SO dead and empty, it doesn’t even sound like a real acoustic. What's missing is a sense of real musicians occupying real space. There’s nothing palpable to suggest believability. And as for the noise itself (which literally is all these works consist of - noise), even the sounds don’t sound real. Despite the somewhat distant perspective, paradoxically, the mics seem very close to the fingerboards, and there is an artificiality to what you hear that makes all of this sound like electronic-generated AI noise (or a synthesizer). Blowing, whooshing, sweeping, sliding, scratching, crunching, plunking, "circular" sawing, all kinds of grunting, groaning, howling, zipping, farting and whistle sounds, et al, ad nauseum. It's not that I necessarily have an objection to all these sounds per se, it's that they never end. And as recorded here, it all just sounds reproduced - not really realistic or believable. I can't imagine how the engineer fabricated this sonic anomaly - distant and up close at the same time. 
 
Perplexed, I don’t remember it being at all like this on the other recording of it I have - the 2014 Mode (WDR) recording played by JACK Quartet - though I haven’t listened to that CD in ages. So I decided to grab it off the shelf for comparison (and a quick refresher) and give it a listen - still on headphones. And here we have a completely different experience. Suddenly all this noise begins to make some sense. Well, no, it could never make sense. But there is at least the sense of realness to it - living, breathing human beings creating sound by whatever means necessary. And as such, it is actually somewhat fascinating, mesmerizing even, now that we actually believe these noises are actually made by real people with real instruments in a real space. And the mind is engaged and begins to imagine how they do it. As opposed to the artificiality heard on Pentatone, suggesting it’s just electronic. And the mind just goes numb.
 
But let’s be real. Even with the superiority of the JACK Quartet playing this*, it's still nonsense. (There aren't even actual notes in it!) And it still goes on WAAAY too long for what it is. I could possibly sit still through one of these string quartets. And maybe even come to appreciate it. But to try to endure 3 of them, totaling 70 minutes, is simply too much to bear. Let alone comprehend. And really, one shouldn't even try. Perhaps sometime I'll undertake an experiment to listen to just one a day for three consecutive days and see what happens. Maybe I’ll report back; or maybe I’ll just put it up on the shelf to collect dust. I can’t ever imagine listening to any of this again - and honestly, I wouldn't have listened to this new recording if it weren't for Quatuor Diotima, who were so fantastic playing Ligeti on an earlier recording.

I realize I've spent most of this review discussing the recorded sound. I suppose that's partly because I don't really know what to say about the works themselves; I certainly can't treat them as "music". And I'm sure many will get so caught up in (or put off by) all the noise, they won't even notice the recording.

Anyone unfamiliar with Lachenmann who might be thinking surely I'm exaggerating what is presented here (really? it's all noise? there really aren't any notes in it?), I'd refer you to an informative quote from the composer himself, reprinted in the booklet. In the opening paragraph, Quatuor Diotima recounts their 25-year relationship with the composer, where at some point early on he described his work to them as "a music in Noise Major, the ultimate avatar of musical deconstruction." Yup...that sounds about right. And my response would be, "But why?" Even more interesting (and frankly, somewhat troubling) is the group's statement that "this recording is the fruit of 25 years of shared work [with the composer], literally hundreds of hours of rehearsals and conversations." They really spent 25 years on this stuff?! While I admire their dedication, to my reasoning, if it takes that long to fully understand what the composer wants, then there's something wrong with what the composer wants. But that's just me.       
 
In the end, I'm afraid the fruits of their labor weren't fully realized on this Pentatone recording. It's not the playing by any means - these guys are phenomenal by any measure, and I would imagine their live performances are quite a different experience. But as heard on this CD, these "string quartets" by Helmut Lachenmann aren't “fascinating” like most everyone who’s written about them asserts. For when you understand that this isn't music, and you don't believe that it's even real, combined with the fact that absolutely nothing ever happens, and the realization that absolutely nothing is ever going to happen, well, it becomes just a novelty - mildly interesting (for a short period of time) and unimaginably boring (in the long run). While the other recording from the JACK Quartet provides a more intriguing experience, none of this can begin to match the groundbreaking innovation or creativity of Penderecki and Ligeti. And I’ll still take John Zorn's Cat O'Nine Tails and George Crumb’s Black Angels any day over any of this nonsense by Lachenmann.

Postscript. I am always open to exploring new music and music I am unfamiliar with. So I wondered if I'm being too narrow-minded about this "composer" (which I don't think I am). So I had my spouse sit down in front of the speakers, and without any preamble, I played a couple minutes of each of these Quartets and waited for a reaction. He has absolutely no inclination toward audiophile matters like the recorded acoustic and such that I obsess over; he just loves music. And his response to this was simple and direct: "reductio ad absurdum". You can probably figure that out, or you can google it for clarity. Either way, the answer is the same. And it pretty much sums it up for me as well. 
 
*and JACK Quartet really are superior in every way. They make a feast out of this kind of stuff; it’s just about all they ever play/record. They are the undisputed champions of noisemaking.

Several months ago, I wrote a piece on this blog complaining about the price of CDs these days. So how are things going these days? Well, things just seem to keep getting worse. In fact, in the past few months, not only are the prices of CDs going up even more, I’m now seeing more and more instances where new CDs aren’t even available at all. Presto Classical in the UK (where I buy most of my CDs from) continually shows “Out of Stock” notices on many newer releases I’ve been looking at from labels across the board, and the newest releases often suffer delay after delay, with release dates pushed back and back. All the while, prices remain astronomically, absurdly, ridiculously high. Why?
 
No seriously. Why?
 
Pricing aside, why are Presto’s “distributors” continuously “out of stock” on so many new releases? They're new! How can they already be out of stock on release day? The answer, of course, is that they never had them in stock to begin with. So the obvious question is - why do labels even announce a release date if they can't meet it? Wondering if I could get any kind of explanation from Presto, I emailed them asking why they can’t get product these days. They didn’t have an explanation and empathized with me, stating something like, 'yeah we wonder why too'. I further expressed, only half jokingly, that I’ve all but given up trying to buy new Classical CDs and maybe it’s time I find a new hobby. (Ha!) They didn’t exactly laugh along with me at that, but tactfully stated they understood my obvious frustration.1
 
And then there’s Amazon, which is just a joke. They can’t be taken seriously or relied on for anything in this realm. They just randomly list stuff cuz a label announced a release date at some point and who cares if it’s really available or not. Or maybe some seller in Japan or Germany can get it to you - for about $300 plus $30 shipping. (I’m exaggerating, but not by much.) I think they just like to tantalize us. I've even seen them occasionally list a title, which is otherwise completely unavailable, as an import from Amazon-Germany - at a price so high your head spins. As if anyone is that desperate to buy a Classical CD. Worst of all, Amazon's Marketplace sellers are becoming scarce - which is extremely troubling. I could almost always count on a 3rd party seller offering newer releases at reduced prices a few weeks after the official release date. And others would routinely offer used copies. But those sellers have all but disappeared in the past few months. Some of these CD titles are simply not available anywhere.
 
With everything we're seeing, someone somewhere has to have an explanation, or a reason for it, or some kind of understanding of what is happening in the world of Classical CD distribution and sales today. But I've not seen one yet. One observation I’ve made (and Presto, not in so many words, confirmed my suspicion) is that the problem seems to stem from one source - Naxos distribution (aka NGL - Naxos Global Logistics). I believe Naxos bit off way more than it could chew when it began gobbling up international distribution services for nearly every Classical label in the universe - including bigger ones like Chandos. And they simply can’t deliver. Thanks, Naxos. You went from being a wonderful, affordable Classical music label that everyone loved to screwing up an entire industry. (And they’re FAR from a “budget” label anymore.) And apparently there’s serious shipping issues on top of availability issues. So we can't win.2
​ 
There are even a couple of record labels, with whom I’ve established contact over the years, wanting to occasionally send me a review copy of a new title that might interest me (and likely can’t get anywhere else), and even they can’t ship them to me anymore. One rep says shipping rates are so ridiculously high they can’t ship anywhere outside of Germany, and another says customs is stopping their international shipments outside of Poland. Why?

I’m no expert on these things. I don’t really understand how it all works - how people get their stuff recorded (or who pays for it), or why a label decides to produce and market something with their logo (or who pays for that), or how it ultimately gets distributed to market. And frankly, I really don't care. I'm just an average guy wanting to buy CDs for my own personal pleasure.3 And it really is a passion for me - not just the listening, but the collecting part. I see a new release that I want and I order it and it comes in the mail. I listen with interest, and if it motivates me (positively or negatively), I review it. It really should be that simple.
 
But it isn't anymore. And I suppose when you get right down to it, I think what’s happening right now ultimately boils down to one thing. As one label representative, whom I trust, recently lamented in an email to me - “No one wants CDs anymore. No one cares about quality, or good sound. Everybody just wants to download it and listen on their earbuds.” I suppose if you’re listening to some rap crap, or some pop or country-western monotony, then your cellphone is perfect for that. Because who cares what it sounds like? But for Classical music - a symphony orchestra in full cry, or a string quartet at its most expressive? Come on. Are people really going to MP3 that on their computer or phone and actually accept it as good enough?
 
Yes. Yes, it seems that’s exactly what people are doing. Download and streaming versions are everywhere - often available before official release date and at reduced prices. And those few of us remaining that still care about quality and want to buy CDs are stuck having a hard time just trying to find physical product. And there are so few online sites that even sell CDs anymore, we have nowhere to turn. I have at least half a dozen titles in my watchlist that I’ve been wanting to get for the past 6 months, and they’re simply not available for purchase (often not even from the record label directly) - at least not at a price I’m willing to pay. 
​
So you might ask, why not branch out and get some other titles I wouldn't normally buy in the meantime? Well, it goes right back to price. Years ago, you'd find an intriguing title, offered at a relatively affordable (well, at least reasonable) price, and be enticed to "branch out" and get excited about exploring something different. But not today. There's no way one can afford to just randomly take chances on things unknown like we used to. That's just the reality of it. And it's disheartening, because that takes a lot of the fun out of this passion/hobby.

So I write all this mainly to let off some steam and get it off my chest. But also to point out to anyone who’s noticed why my reviews have fallen off in number lately. I simply can’t acquire what I want to listen to in a timely manner. But titles are beginning to trickle in. I have recently obtained a few CDs that have been on my list for several months (finally!) and my reviews are starting to flow again. But sadly, I'm still seeing the cycle continuing with some new releases this year. I was hoping the Classical recording industry would rise up out of the ashes of the holiday slump, but so far it's happening very slowly. If anything, it seems to be getting worse with each passing week. 

1 The folks at Presto are great. They certainly mean well and do everything they can to satisfy customers. None of this is their fault.
2 It's interesting I'm not seeing reviewers in Europe complaining about this. And I think the reason is easy to work out. Large-scale review sites and magazines like Gramophone either receive free promo copies directly from the labels in exchange for a review, or more likely these days, a link to the download version - which they find perfectly acceptable substitutes for review purposes. They have quick and easy access to them on demand and sound quality becomes a secondary consideration; they just want to get a review in print.
3 Nearly all of my reviews are of CDs I am interested in and have purchased with my own money. My blog is just me, and I rarely receive “promo” copies from record labels or artists. When I do, I disclose that fact in my review for context.

Anyone who reads my blog knows I love the Piatti Quartet. It is interesting though, as is so often the case with many of today's string quartets, some of their personnel keeps changing (particularly the 2nd violin and viola) with each new recording.1 But, amazingly, their ensemble playing remains consistently excellent record after record. And that's what matters. And they’ve been extremely fortunate to receive consistently excellent recorded sound as well - though I do have a slight reservation with the sound here in the opening work.
 
With this latest recording for Rubicon, 2 of their members are different from their previous recording for this label just two years ago (yup, the 2nd violin and viola). And even though the recording engineer and venue (St. Silas Church, London) are the same as before, the recorded sound is not quite as good in the Vaughan Williams Phantasy for String Quintet, which begins the program. Though the a cappella viola solo at the beginning is gorgeous and richly textured, as the others join in and the volume and intensity of their playing increases, it becomes obvious there is something not quite right here. The acoustic sounds a bit tubby, with an empty-hall reverberation surrounding the musicians - most noticeable in the Scherzo and Burlesca, which sound a bit "busy".

But it's not serious. And once the ear adjusts, it's easy to become immersed in the music. And one quickly realizes VW’s Phantasy is a wonderful piece of music. It has all the hallmarks of this composer, who so much of the time just can’t seem to get away from sounding like himself - specifically his own Thomas Tallis Variations and Lark Ascending. And such is the case here. You hear continual reminders of those works throughout the slow movements of this piece - especially as an additional viola enriches the traditional string quartet, making it even more like that wash of string sound in the Tallis variations. And that’s OK. It’s lovely music. And it’s lovingly played here. But there are contrasting sections too, including a vivacious scherzo in 7/8 time and a jaunty Burlesca at the end, providing splendid variety.
 
Next we have two dreary vocal works (which I never welcome on a string quartet program) by Ina Boyle, with whom the Piatti Quartet seems to have a special affinity. (They recorded her string quartet on the earlier album.) So I skipped over them without hesitation, and hoped the sound would improve in Herbert Howells’ Fantasy which comes next. And I’m so pleased to hear that it does! The group sounds to be ever so slightly closer to the microphones now, with just enough added presence and clarity to increase focus and realism, and more effectively control the acoustic. The piece begins in a gloomy mood though, and I feared the worst, as this extra closeness highlights a bit of coarseness to the texture of bow on string. But that is soon forgotten as one is drawn completely into the music. And what a gorgeous piece this is.
 
It's an expansive work, with many differing sections, laid out in a single movement. And it, too, often sounds a lot like the Vaughan Williams of Tallis and Lark. Each instrument is featured in extended solo passages, sometimes con sordino, allowing each member of this wonderful string quartet to shine. And the extra touch of immediacy and illumination from the recording allows the group's sound to expand effortlessly into the acoustic, with a vibrancy and emotional involvement which was slightly curtailed before. One is swept along as the music swells and picks up momentum, and Howells’ distinctive musical voice speaks out with ardor. This music sounds a bit like Vaughan Williams mingling with Delius, which is a very enjoyable combination indeed.
 
But it’s not done yet! Things really pick up about 8-1/2 minutes in, as an animated Allegretto breaks out, brimming with an irrepressible,  melodic joyfulness. Then just as suddenly, it comes to an abrupt halt, and we’re back to VW again to close out the piece. And at the end, I once again marvel at the marvelous playing of the Piatti Quartet. And am so relieved the recording quality is so excellent, just as it was on their previous recording for Rubicon.2
 
After this, it will be hard for Malcolm Arnold’s Phantasy to measure up. (And it doesn’t quite.) But it starts out promisingly and I have high hopes. It has more light and shade variety in mood, texture and, especially, in scoring. With pizzicato sprinkled throughout the group at the beginning, its distinct quirkiness is intriguing, sounding quite modern indeed! Agitated rhythms and incisive articulation abound, with a constant restlessness underlying it. And with the acoustic now better defined, the atmosphere created is most alluring, befitting the music perfectly. And the Piatti Quartet really dazzles us with it.
 
This music is definitely by a young composer, written some 25 years later than the VW and Howells, who is obviously exploring modernism. While much of the piece is tonal (more or less), Arnold is beginning to experiment with atonality, and even hinting at avant-garde effects yet to come. And he does get a little weird with it a few minutes in, where he almost lets the dissonance get the better of him. But once he’s got that out of his system, he drives the music with rhythmic propulsion and vigor, reminding me of Bartok at his most energetic. Then Arnold surprises us with a lovely, positively tender passage near the end (replete with the most sweetly singing violin), before finishing it off with a fleeting burst of youthful zest in a quick little zippy flourish in the closing measures. The Piatti Quartet excels at this kind of characterization, and they vividly project the variety of moods, sounds and temperament to great effect, and succeed in making the piece even better than it might otherwise be.
 
This would have made a splendid concert closer. But for no apparent, musical reason, the Piattis append at the end a couple of slow, somber mini-encores - which were not at all necessary. First, there is a lovely but sad little song by Augusta Holmes, in an arrangement for solo cello and string quartet, which dampens the mood immediately. It is followed by an extremely unpleasant bit of noise - a “work” by Michael Tippett which lasts exactly 33 seconds (!) presented here in its “world premiere recording” (LOL). Oh and they even bring in a flutist and a clarinetist for this! All 33 seconds of it. Which, of course, is simply absurd.3 But there it is. 
 
So while not all the music here is essential (ahem), the major works for strings are. And they are not that often recorded, making this disc even more enticing. And I suppose some may even enjoy the vocal works, though I can't imagine it, but it's important to note, they take up nearly 20 minutes of the 60-minute total playing time. Overall, the musicmaking here continues to inspire admiration for the Piatti Quartet - no matter what. And I can warmly recommend this album.
 
1 though the roster is identical to the Nimbus Alliance recording of the Phibbs Quartets made just one year earlier (2024).
2 notable for its wonderful performance of E.J. Moeran’s 2nd String Quartet and Vaughan Williams’ Household Music.
3 Could you imagine being the 2 woodwind players showing up for the recording session and having just one stave of music to play? At least it was easy to sightread and allowed for an early happy hour!