Alkan: Sonata for Piano and
Cello; Chopin: Sonata for Piano and Cello. Job ter Haar, cello; Vaughan
Schlepp, piano. Quintone. $19.99.
Ravel: Daphnis et Chloé.
John Alldis Choir and London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Bernard
Haitink. LPO. $16.99.
Gary Schocker: Garden in Harp and
other works. Emily Mitchell, harp; Gary Schocker, flute. Azica. $16.99.
Bruckner: Symphony No. 7.
Boston Symphony Orchestra conducted by Klaus Tennstedt. ICA Classics DVD.
$24.99.
Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 7 and
8; Haydn: Symphony No. 55. Boston Symphony Orchestra conducted by William
Steinberg. ICA Classics DVD. $24.99.
Even when particular
music – or particular performances of music – may not be for all tastes, it is
a real pleasure to have access to unfamiliar works and little-known versions of
familiar ones. Sometimes there are real
gems to be found, as in a new disc of sonatas for piano and cello by Alkan and
Chopin. These composers were two of the
great pianists of the 19th century and are entirely identified with
solo-piano music. Never mind, for
example, that Chopin’s two early piano concertos receive frequent performances
– it is on their handling of the solo-piano repertoire that both men’s
reputation rests. So it is a genuine
surprise to discover how well both of them handle the combination of piano with
cello – and not in early or student works, either. Chopin’s sonata, whose enormous and complex
first movement lasts longer than the other three combined, dates to 1846, just
three years before the composer’s death; and the première in 1848 – of the last three movements only – was to be Chopin’s
final performance in Paris. The piano
and cello are surprisingly equally balanced in Chopin’s sonata, with
considerable virtuosity required of both
The scaling of the heights promised by the first movement is not really
accomplished in the other three, and the very short third-movement Largo is more of an interlude than a
deeply felt slow movement. Nevertheless,
the sonata is a work of considerable skill and, in its first movement, a great
deal of emotion as well – providing a view of a side of Chopin that is very
rarely seen. Alkan’s sonata, which dates
to 1857, is an even more substantial work – not in length, which is about the
same as that of Chopin’s sonata, but in the intensity of its four movements and
the way the whole seems to move inexorably from one to the next. Here the piano does tend to dominate the
cello: Alkan gave the première
performance of his sonata, just as Chopin played the debut of three movements
of his, and Alkan clearly wrote for his own very considerable abilities. But if the cello is often in a subsidiary
position here, it is scarcely unimportant, with melodies flowing freely between
the two instruments amid skillfully interwoven rhythmic exchanges. Like nearly all of Alkan’s music, this sonata
has fallen into neglect; like most of this composer’s works, it deserves
revival as a considerable piece of well-constructed chamber music whose demands
on the players are well repaid by the quality of the musical expression.
Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé is better known than either Alkan’s sonata
or Chopin’s, at least in suite form, but the complete 1912 ballet is far less
often performed. The new CD by Bernard
Haitink is not a recent performance: it was recorded live in 1979. Nevertheless, after more than three decades,
this reading stands up very well. Ravel
considered the piece symphonic, and that is how Haitink approaches it, giving
it grand scale and very full sound from the London Philharmonic Orchestra. The placement of the John Alldis Choir is
somewhat removed, resulting in less fullness of choral participation than
listeners might expect and hope for: the chorus is wordless but is an important
part of the sonic fabric. In fact, the
choir sings well, and it is not hard to get used to the balance of chorus and
orchestra, even if it is a bit unexpected at first. The sound has stood up well, with more warmth
and richer presence than is found in most of the early digital recordings that
began to appear not long after this analog one was made. The performance as a whole is sensuous and
atmospheric, perhaps a touch overblown from time to time, but generally very
effective in evoking the nuances of the pastoral setting that Ravel so
carefully created.
The music of Gary Schocker (born 1959) has an undeniably
pastoral cast as well, in large part because of its strong emphasis on the
flute: Schocker has written more than 150 works for the instrument, which he
himself plays, and is the most-published living composer of flute music. The emphasis of the CD called Garden in Harp, though, is less on the
flute than on the named instrument: the four-movement title work is in fact for
harp solo. There is considerable
delicacy and a kind of New Age-y languorousness in much of the music here, even
in works that include trombone (Love
Letter), oboe (September Morn), or
viola (Summer Morning, Summer Afternoon). The most substantial piece in terms of
instruments employed is Cherry Blossoms,
which uses string quartet and clarinet as well as flute and harp. But “substantial” is a bit of a misnomer for
Schocker’s music: it is transparent, evanescent, delicate and rather
ephemeral. This (+++) CD is very well
played, and much of the music makes for pleasant background listening, but
there is nothing genuinely gripping or aurally challenging here.
The music on two new ICA Classics DVDs is mainstream and
very well-known indeed, but these recordings nevertheless qualify as offering
something not frequently heard, because both are first-ever DVD releases of
particular performances by conductors the extent of whose interests has not
been particularly well-documented. Klaus
Tennstedt (1926-1998) was a noted Brucknerian in his later years, but had
emigrated from East Germany only in 1971 and was very little known in any
capacity when he conducted Bruckner’s Seventh with the Boston Symphony
Orchestra in 1977 – the performance on the new DVD, which is part of the “ICA
Classics Legacy” series. The technical
quality of the recording is all right, but scarcely outstanding, and the
performance, while spirited and at times intense, is less knowing (and less
glowing) than much of Tennstedt’s later work.
The (+++) DVD will be of most interest to Tennstedt fans who want to see
and hear more of the conductor’s earlier U.S. appearances – and for lovers of
the Boston Symphony, whose warmth and fine balance in the 1970s come through
clearly despite some technical deficiencies in the presentation. The orchestra’s (+++) DVD featuring William
Steinberg (1899-1978), part of the same “Legacy” series, has many of the same
virtues as the Tennstedt recording even though it is significantly older:
Beethoven’s Eighth was recorded in 1962, Beethoven’s Seventh in 1970, and the
Haydn in 1969. The less-than-top-notch
sonic quality is more pronounced here, although, again, the warmth and
precision of the orchestra come through – visually even more than aurally. Steinberg’s personal warmth shines as well:
almost alone among conductors of his time, he sought a genuine partnership with
orchestral musicians, a kind of cooperative music-making that went against the
then-common grain of dictatorial conducting and that frequently elicited a
commitment from the musicians that resulted in great beauties of
performance. Steinberg was not
particularly noted as a Haydn conductor, and his rather overly Romantic
interpretation of the Symphony No. 55 seems distinctly old-fashioned
today. He was, however, known for his
Beethoven, and if the versions heard here are not as crisp and rhythmically
decisive as some others, they feature lovely flow and often a greater helping
of exuberance than one usually hears in Beethoven. This is a DVD for fans of Steinberg and
lovers of the Boston Symphony – no truly classic performances here, but some
very fine ones that display the individual touches of a skilled conductor known
far more for his years with the Pittsburgh Symphony than for his work with
other ensembles.
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