(++++) STIRRING TRIBUTES

Bruckner from the Archives, Volume 1: Symphony No. “00” in F minor; Symphony No. 1; March in D minor; Three Pieces for Orchestra; Psalm 112; Overture in G minor; String Quartet. Bruckner Orchestra, Linz, conducted by Kurt Wöss (Symphony in F minor); Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Eugen Jochum (Symphony No. 1); Vienna Symphony Orchestra conducted by Hans Weisbach (March in D minor; Three Pieces for Orchestra); Vienna Akademie Kammerchor and Vienna Symphony Orchestra conducted by Henry Swoboda (Psalm 112); WDR Symphony Orchestra, Köln, conducted by Dean Dixon (Overture in G minor); Koeckert Quartet (Rudolf Koeckert and Willi Buchner, violins; Oskar Riedl, viola; Josef Merz, cello) (String Quartet). Ariadne. $24.99 (2 CDs).

Eugène Ysaÿe: Six Sonatas for Solo Violin. Sergey Khachatryan, violin. Naïve. $16.99.

     The Bruckner bicentennial continues to produce a host of mostly excellent examinations and reexaminations of Bruckner’s music, with performances not only of the many versions of his symphonies but also of his other, generally much-less-known music. In parallel with all the new performances is an ongoing dive into archival recordings, giving today’s audiences a chance to hear readings that date to a time when Bruckner was much less often programmed in concert halls and recording studios than is the case today. While the audio of many of the historic recordings leaves something to be desired, today’s audio restoration techniques have produced some remarkably fine-sounding CDs and have allowed genuinely important older performances to become available again – or, in the case of the Bruckner from the Archives series, for the first time. Planned to be a six-volume release by SOMM Recordings on the Ariadne label, with two discs per volume, Bruckner from the Archives shows in its first issue just how valuable it will be, not only for historical purposes but also because, if the first volume is any indication, the performances themselves stand up very well to ones recorded in later years. Furthermore, Bruckner from the Archives is packed with premières: with the exception of Psalm 112, every performance in the first volume is either a first release in any form or a first release on CD.

     All of these readings are very fine, and one is exemplary: Eugen Jochum’s 1959 recording of Symphony No. 1 with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra. This is an electrifying reading, highly conversant with Bruckner’s style and expertly paced and balanced to bring out the highlights and intensity of the music – the finale, in particular, is genuinely exciting. Jochum was a fine Bruckner conductor, and as the founder of the orchestra that he leads here, he had a superb sense of the musicians’ capabilities, which he brings out to the full. Given that the remastered sound is quite good, this performance stands up exceptionally well to more-recent ones. The other full-length symphony here, the “study symphony” in F minor sometimes referred to as No. “00,” is a lesser work (derivative of Mendelssohn and Schumann) in a less-compelling performance (from 1974, with Kurt Wöss leading the Bruckner Orchestra, Linz. Everything is in place for this reading and everything sounds fine, but nothing is particularly inspirational – that is, nothing helps the symphony rise above itself. The symphonies are the major works in this release, with shorter pieces scattered between the two CDs in rather odd fashion – the music is not presented in chronological order of composition, nor in the order in which the recordings were made, and it is disappointing in such a thoughtfully conceived archival series for there to be no clear sequencing of the material. The first CD opens with the F minor symphony and then moves to the March in D minor and Three Pieces for Orchestra in Nazi-era recordings from 1944 – a time when Bruckner’s music was enlisted in the wartime cause – featuring the Vienna Symphony Orchestra under Hans Weisbach. These are insubstantial works, but well-played here and insightful in terms of Bruckner’s development as an orchestrator. This CD concludes with the 1950 performance – the first recording ever made – of Psalm 112, with Henry Swoboda leading a forthright, enthusiastic reading of a piece containing some impressive fugal writing but a rather uninspired structure (the opening material appears unchanged in the middle and again at the conclusion). The second CD opens with Overture in G minor in a 1959 reading by Dean Dixon and the WDR Symphony Orchestra, Köln – a well-paced and well-balanced performance of a nicely orchestrated work, in which trombones and trumpets are prominent for the first time in what would later be thought of as a “Brucknerian” way. Symphony No. 1 follows this piece, and then the CD concludes with Bruckner’s C minor String Quartet in a highly sensitive, well-paced and thoughtful Koeckert Quartet performance from 1951. The totality of this first Bruckner from the Archives presentation is quite impressive, mixing more-familiar and less-familiar material in uniformly well-thought-out performances whose insights are as welcome today as they surely were when the readings were first heard by live audiences or on the radio.

     The “tribute” element of Bruckner from the Archives is explicit, while that of a new Naïve CD featuring the six solo-violin sonatas by Eugène Ysaÿe is more subtle but scarcely less worthy. Indeed, the exceptionally well-played performances by Sergey Khachatryan will for some listeners be less of a focus here than the violin on which he performs, because this is Ysaÿe’s own 1740 Guarneri del Gesù instrument, the one famously carried on a pillow in front of Ysaÿe’s coffin after the violinist’s death in 1931. Ysaÿe had a label bearing his own name placed inside the instrument in 1928, next to del Gesù’s own – a sacrilege today, but understandable at the time in light of Ysaÿe’s own superstardom. It was this instrument for which Ysaÿe composed his Six Sonatas for Solo Violin in 1923, and the knowledge that one is listening to this specific instrument in Khachatryan’s recording adds a fillip of delight to the disc. Not that any such boost is necessary: these readings simply sound wonderful, the violin’s pure and sweet tone through its entire range allowing Khachatryan to focus both on the elements that the pieces have in common (notably their Bach-derived elements) and on those in which they are very different (in their reflections of the six performance styles of the six violinists to whom they are dedicated). Khachatryan does not seem overawed by the provenance of the instrument he plays, putting it through its paces with care and sensitivity while varying the emphases of the six sonatas in ways appropriate to the special elements contained in each of them. He handles Sonata No. 1 (for Joseph Szigeti) with textural sensitivity, including skill with the difficult double-stopped sixths. Sonata No. 2 (for Jacques Thibaud) mixes elegance with an amusing use of the Dies irae in acknowledgment of Thibaud’s hypochondria. Sonata No. 3 (for Georges Enescu) opens interestingly, with a nod to Enescu’s interest in atonality. Sonata No. 4 (for Fritz Kreisler) reflects Kreisler’s predilection for Baroque pastiches as well as his very considerable élan. Sonata No. 5 (for Mathieu Crickboom, an Ysaÿe pupil) nicely contrasts its opening, Impressionistic L’Aurore with the following Danse rustique. And Sonata No. 6 (for Manuel Quiroga) includes tango and habanera elements reflective of Quiroga’s Spanish nationality, plus some difficult passagework that Khachatryan tosses off with apparent abandon. These are first-rate performances by any measure, which sound wonderful on an instrument of superb quality. Knowing that it is the instrument so intertwined with the composer/virtuoso who created the music brings even more pleasure to a recording that, on its own, is filled with enjoyment on every level.

(++++) PIANO POWERS

Chopin: Piano Concerto No. 2; Variations on “Là ci darem la mano” from Mozart’s “Don Giovanni”; Rondo à la Krakowiak. Abbey Simon, piano; Hamburg Symphony Orchestra conducted by Heribert Beissel. Vox. $18.99.

Paul Chihara: Concerto-Fantasy for Piano and Orchestra; Bagatelles (Twice Seven Haiku for Piano); Four Reveries on Beethoven; Ami for piano four hands. Quynh Nguyen and Rieko Aizawa, piano; London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Stephen Barlow. Naxos. $13.99.

     Newcomers to classical music, who quickly learn of Chopin’s importance as a composer for the piano, are often surprised to discover that he completed only six works for piano and orchestra. That is actually testimony to Chopin’s determined dedication to the piano for its own sake (and his own sake): he simply was not interested in the sort of showmanship often associated with piano-and-orchestra combinations. Nor was he much concerned with the intricacies of orchestration: Chopin’s orchestral parts for the combination works are less than exemplary. However, when first making his mark as a performer, Chopin did understand that he could draw audiences in with appealing piano-and-orchestra pieces, and accordingly he wrote a small number of them in his youth – and all of them have remained popular ever since. The poised, elegant performances by Abbey Simon (1920-2019) with the Hamburg Symphony Orchestra under Heribert Beissel (1933-2021), released in the 1970s, were always among the most attractive versions of these works, and now they are available again in first-rate digital remasterings on the Vox label. The second of the two Simon/Beissel CDs includes Chopin’s second piano concerto (second to be published, that is: it was written first) and two extended concert pieces packed with tunefulness and elegance, and showing the many ways in which Chopin keeps the piano dominant while still allowing it to merge and contrast with other instruments. These performances are in an older, refined and sophisticated style that fits the music exceptionally well, allowing plenty of opportunities for pianistic grace as well as fireworks when appropriate. The second (1829) concerto, in F minor, is especially noteworthy for its lovely central Larghetto, which became instantly popular when the work was first performed, and Simon and Beissel do a particularly good job of exploring its beauties without overdoing attempts to give it more emotional depth than it possesses. The very early 1827 Variations on “Là ci darem la mano” from Mozart’s “Don Giovanni” (Chopin’s Op. 2) are utterly charming, as is the original operatic aria – and Chopin cleverly withholds a full statement of Mozart’s music until almost one-third of the way through the piece, thereby increasing audience anticipation and setting up a series of thoroughly delightful musical explorations for the remainder of the work. As for the 1828 Rondo à la Krakowiak, it is one of Chopin’s explorations of Polish folk music, thoroughly uplifted to concert-hall status and played by Simon with considerable élan. The sound of this 1972 recording is warm and well-balanced, the digital remastering is sensitive to the care with which the original was produced, and the overall aural world fits the performers’ thoughtfully Romantic approach to the material well. Even more than half a century after these readings were created, they retain their power in exploring the intricacies of Chopin’s limited contribution to piano-and-orchestra creations.

     Many other composers have put their own imprimatur on pieces for this instrumental combination, and interest in it has continued into the 21^st century. Some of the contrasts with Chopin’s approach can be quite intriguing to hear – for instance, by listening to the Concerto-Fantasy for Piano and Orchestra (2019-2021) by Paul Chihara (born 1938). Composed for Quynh Nguyen, who is the soloist on the world première recording of the work on the Naxos label, this four-movement piece opens surprisingly with a Dolce Cantabile section in which the solo violin, not the piano, is front-and-center. That sets the stage for a work that is pleasantly old-fashioned in its adherence to tonality and insistent in its lyricism from start to finish, even when – as in the second movement, Interlude – the rhythms are distinctly jazzy. While Chopin constantly finds ways to accentuate the piano’s dominance in his piano-and-orchestra works, Chihara in Concerto-Fantasy is often at pains to downplay the centrality of the solo instrument, or at least to present it on an equal footing with others (as in the third-movement Scherzo, where the interplay with percussion makes it quite clear that the piano is itself a percussion instrument). Although the Concerto-Fantasy draws to an extent on traditional Vietnamese music, it does not sound “exotic” but comes across as a well-balanced exploration of piano-and-orchestra sound worlds, both where they overlap and where they differ. It contrasts interestingly with the three remaining pieces on the disc, which do not include orchestra. Bagatelles (Twice Seven Haiku for Piano) is a 2010-2011 work that, as the title indicates, is a set of 14 very short solo-piano pieces, all with evocative titles. Several of them incorporate contemporary techniques, such as the percussive strike in No. 2, Drinking song for kittens, and the rhythms of No. 7, Hip hop farmer. But others are pure lyricism, such as No. 4, Frankie and Annie; or an intriguing combination of Impressionism and traditional form, such as No. 6, Misty fugue; or an interesting look at older music, notably No. 8, Hommage aux trois B’s (Bach, Brahms, Bolcom) and No. 12, Kleine Toccata. Nguyen plays all these brief works as if they are little gems, with the result that that is exactly what they sound like. There is a touch of Chopin in them here and there – and a touch of Debussy, a hint of Gershwin, and tidbits of other composers as well. But the combination style of the Bagatelles is uniquely Chihara’s. Somewhat similar explorations and sensibilities are present in Four Reveries on Beethoven (2021), each of which is longer than any of the Bagatelles and all of which share the miniatures’ willingness to accept older styles and reinterpret them for the 21^st century. There is a bit of ragtime in No. 1 (RAG 109), a hint of the sylvan in No. 2 (Pastorale), some forthright drama in No. 3 (Storm), and considerable delicacy and gentleness in No. 4 (Sayonara). The CD concludes with the five-movement Ami (2008) for piano four hands, in which Nguyen is joined by Rieko Aizawa. This work’s movements are about the length of those in Four Reveries on Beethoven, and they show yet again Chihara’s willingness to echo other composers, incorporate some of their sounds and techniques into his own work, add his personal sensibilities to the mixture, and produce pleasantly accessible music of no great depth but considerable listening enjoyment. The third movement of Ami, called Pascal Rag, is especially bright and bouncy, contrasting well both with the second, Love Song, and with the fourth, Aka Tombo. Chihara’s handling of piano-and-orchestra material and piano-without-orchestra material is not directly comparable to Chopin’s, but there are enough parallels of sensibility and instrumental effects between the two composers to show that two centuries after Chopin’s time, there is still much to be said for – and through – the piano, whether on its own or as part of a larger musical canvas.

(++++) A MATTER OF GEOGRAPHY

Copland: The Tender Land—Suite; Paul Creston: Saxophone Concerto; Ulysses Kay: Pietà; Walter Piston: The Incredible Flutist Suite. Anna Mattix, English horn; Timothy McAllister, alto saxophone; National Orchestral Institute Philharmonic conducted by JoAnn Falletta. Naxos. $13.99.

Dvořák: Symphony No. 7; David Serkin Ludwig: Violin Concerto. Bella Hristova, violin; Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by JoAnn Falletta. Beau Fleuve. $15.

     The notion of music as a universal form of communication is at best naïve, ignoring both changes over time (what would Mozart make of musique concrète, much less of rap?) and differences of culture (the Chinese guzheng, erhu and dizi, and the Indian sarod, sahnai and sarangi, do not speak to Western ears as they do to those of their own places of origin, and never mind that the Arabic rabab is an ancestor of the European violin). Even within a single broadly defined musical heritage, questions can reasonably be raised about how and how well composers’ works communicate with audiences in different eras and areas – a topic intriguingly if indirectly raised by two new CDs conducted by JoAnn Falletta, who has a penchant for exploring intriguing pairings and contrasts. Her Naxos disc with the National Orchestral Institute Philharmonic is, on the face of it, strictly American, opening with Aaron Copland in his “accessible and popular” mode in the suite from his 1954 opera, The Tender Land (originally written for television – a groundbreaking approach for its time). Set in the 1930s Midwest, the work is something of a counterbalance to Virgil Thomson’s dour dustbowl-focused music for The Plow That Broke the Plains (1936): Copland’s focus is human relationships and their effect on changes in mid-20^th-century rural America. Although scarcely an upbeat work, it falls well short of tragedy, ending with a family splintered but also with a sense of hopefulness – what may be thought of as a kind of American optimism. Both the plot and the music seem somewhat dated now, but if the story is America-focused, the music speaks more of its time period than of anything specific to the United States. Somewhat similarly, the suite from Walter Piston’s 1938 ballet, The Incredible Flutist, transcends the work’s storyline (about a circus featuring a flute player with magical properties) although not so much its time period: the music is noticeably (and entertainingly) mid-20^th-century in its rhythms and harmonies, but the setting could be any village anywhere. In both these works, Falletta manages to highlight the elements that are indeed American (more in Copland than in Piston) while presenting the pieces in attractively paced performances that are more concerned with instrumental color and rhythmic vitality than with any sense of a specific place. The other two works on this CD – both world premiѐre recordings – are even less overtly “American” than the pieces by Copland and Piston. Ulysses Kay’s Pietà (1950) is a lovely and loving tribute to Michelangelo’s masterpiece, with a warmly emotive English horn (well-played by Anna Mattix) nicely complementing ensemble expressiveness that reaches out to any listeners, anywhere, who are willing to be emotionally moved. And the original orchestral version of Paul Creston’s 1941 Saxophone Concerto gets a very fine performance from Timothy McAllister, its jazz inflections not specifically American (jazz having influenced composers worldwide by this time) and its balance and interweaving of solo and orchestral elements created with a firm and knowing compositional hand that bespeaks skill but not specificity of location.

     The musical reference points of the violin concerto by David Serkin Ludwig are overtly non-American, even though Ludwig (born 1974) is an American composer and educator. Ludwig wrote the piece – which gets its world première recording with Falletta leading the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra on the ensemble’s own label – for his wife, Bella Hristova, who is the soloist in this recording. The work is intended to reflect Hristova’s Eastern European background: she is from Bulgaria, and her father, a composer one of whose works Ludwig quotes in this concerto, was from Russia. The concerto is supposed to draw its structure from a Slavonic wedding ceremony, including folk dances and a processional. For better or worse, though, what Ludwig has created is a piece that does not really display its intentions musically or evoke the forms, places and time period underlying it: it simply sounds like a rather intricate contemporary violin concerto requiring considerable solo virtuosity and being somewhat on the episodic side in terms of its themes and their development (or lack thereof). Impressively played both by Hristova and by the Buffalo Philharmonic, the work nevertheless is somewhat on the cool side: it may have considerable personal meaning to Ludwig and Hristova, but it does not reach out to a general audience (in any geographical location) in any significant sense. This means that it contrasts strongly (and not to Ludwig’s advantage) with Dvořák’s most-emotional symphony, No. 7. This is a work pervaded by Czech feelings and specific attempts to elevate Czech nationalism of the 1880s by acknowledging the populace’s political struggles and resilience. Yet its very direct appeal to and evocation of the composer’s homeland is virtually unknown today outside Eastern Europe and academic circles. The symphony has long outlasted its inspirations, its time period, and the Austro-Hungarian Empire itself, speaking with a remarkably cogent voice of beauty, lyricism, struggle, triumph and emotional intensity – without requiring listeners to know or understand anything of the composer’s foundational reasons for creating it. Its geographical origin, in other words, has become totally irrelevant to its impact – which is considerable when it receives a suitably intense performance, as it almost does from Falletta and the Buffalo Philharmonic. The first three movements in this reading are excellent: well-balanced, strongly rhythmic, and giving the horns – which are crucial to this symphony’s overall effect – plenty of chances to shine; indeed, this brass section has never sounded better. Falletta’s pacing and emphases are well-thought-out and well-implemented throughout the first three movements, sweeping the audience (wherever it may be physically located) into music of high drama and emotional sensitivity. The finale, unfortunately, is something less than a capstone, as Falletta seeks unnecessarily to heighten its drama through uncalled-for rubato and some unnecessary and unpleasant fussiness, such as distinct pauses at certain points that interfere with the music’s flow although they are clearly intended to increase its dramatic impact. The pacing of the finale, aside from those stop-and-start elements, is generally good, but the very end is underwhelming, despite yet another instance of excellence from the brass. The totality of this performance is still very fine, but it falls just a bit short of having the communicative strength of which the symphony is capable. Nevertheless, this entire Beau Fleuve CD showcases both the strength of the Buffalo Philharmonic and the ability of works with specific geographical reference points to go above and beyond those locales and prove music to be, if not a universal language, certainly a multilingual experience.

(+++) HIGHLY PERSONAL JUXTAPOSITIONS

Schubert: Fantaisie in F minor, D. 940; Brahms: Variations on a Theme by Schumann; Beethoven: Grosse Fuge, Op. 134; Messiaen: Visions de l’Amen—Amen du Désir; Amen des Anges, des Saints, du chant des oiseaux; Amen de la Création. Gülru Ensari and Herbert Schuch, pianists. Naïve. $16.99.

Ives: Second Sonata for Violin and Piano; Ravel: Sonata No. 2 for Violin and Piano; Ernest Bloch: Baal Shem Suite—Nigun; Sebastian Currier: Aftersong; Ivan Wyschnegradsky: Chant douloureux. Auerbach-Pierce Duo (Dan Auerbach, violin; Joshua Pierce, piano). MSR Classics. $14.95.

Amy Beach: Romance, Op. 23; Clara Schumann: 3 Romanzen, Op. 22; Rita Strohl: Great Dramatic Sonata “Titus et Bérénice”; Reena Esmail: one word makes a world; Nadia Boulanger: Trois Pièces pour Cello et Piano; Maria Theresia Paradis: Sicilienne. Yoshiko Masuda, cello; HyeJin Kim, piano. AVIE. $19.99.

     In their endless seeking for new ways to present music and its underlying thoughts and emotions to audiences, performers frequently turn inward, choosing mixtures of material that, in their view, communicate ideas and feelings effectively even though the pieces were written at vastly different times and for vastly different purposes. Ideally, this form of selection and presentation shines new light on familiar pieces and/or exposes the audience to works they have not heard before – certainly not in this context. As a practical matter, though, these recitals have their higher and lower points, and are effective as a totality only to the extent that they reach listeners already predisposed to share the performers’ very specific emotional attachment to the individual pieces and the way they are set side-by-side with each other. As a result, no matter how well-played these recitals may be, for most audiences they will be less than revelatory – even if individual works within them are performed to a high standard. Thus the highly impressive playing by Gülru Ensari and Herbert Schuch of works for two pianos and others for piano four hands is better heard as a series of individual performances than as a continuity – unless a listener happens to find these specific pieces, in this specific order, to be highly convincing at the full almost-80-minute duration of the new Ensari/Schuch CD on Naïve. Certainly the playing itself soars here. Schubert’s Fantaisie in F minor is a work of pervasive beauty, the pianists complementing each other elegantly while bringing forth the thoroughgoing gentleness and lyricism of the music. Brahms’ Variations on a Theme by Schumann, Op. 23 – a theme and 10 variations for piano four hands, all but the last one quite short – begin in stately fashion before showing Brahms’ considerable adeptness in the variation form, as well as his awareness of the ways in which writing for two pianists can expand on the capabilities of a single player. The quiet and slightly sad warmth of the fourth variation and the contrasting jauntiness of the fifth are among the especially effective elements of this performance. And the Ensari/Schuch handling of the piano-four-hands version of Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge – which has its own opus number, affirming its distinctness from the more-familiar string-quartet version – is enormously impressive: this is an exceptionally difficult work on all levels, but Ensari and Schuch surmount its technical challenges while affirming its communicative power. Heard on their own, the Schubert, Brahms and Beethoven works are convincing in the extreme. But in the overall context of this CD, they are somewhat less so. That is because Ensari and Schuch intersperse them with three excerpts from Messiaen’s 1943 suite for two pianos, Visions de l’Amen. The Schubert is followed by the fourth of Messiaen’s pieces, Amen du Désir. Then comes the Brahms, and then the fifth Messiaen work, Amen des Anges, des Saints, du chant des oiseaux, and then the first, Amen de la Création, and finally the Beethoven. Messiaen’s seven movements are closely related and build to a seventh-movement climax, so taking three of the seven out of context and out of order is at best a questionable decision; placing them in two positions of separation among these Schubert, Brahms and Beethoven pieces is more questionable still. Like everything on this CD, the Messiaen pieces are played very well indeed – in fact, a full recording of the Messiaen by Ensari and Schuch would be welcome. But although the performers clearly believe these individual Messiaen movements shed additional light on the other works here, that is scarcely apparent – they seem more intrusive and uncalled-for than anything else, no matter how well they are performed. So this disc, if listeners essentially take it apart into its component pieces, has much to recommend it; but as a totality, it is at best a presentation of limited audience reach.

     The situation is somewhat analogous in the very fine performances by Dan Auerbach and Joshua Pierce on an MSR Classics CD that also mixes music in ways that clearly “work” for the performers but not necessarily so well for a general audience. Ives’ Second Sonata for Violin and Piano is a high point. Many of the salient characteristics of the irredeemably idiosyncratic innovator are present here: rapid rhythmic change, juxtaposition of hymn and popular-dance tunes with distinct dissonances, and a refusal to accept the inevitability of tonality. Auerbach and Pierce explore the many moods of the sonata with technical skill plus attunement to Ives’ sound world and its variegated elements. This sonata is actually the midpoint of the disc, though, and the way in which other works lead up to it and move on beyond it is not entirely convincing. The CD opens with the two-movement Aftersong by Sebastian Currier (born 1959). The piece mixes fanfares, glissandi, chordal elements and expressive-but-not-really-lyrical ones to uncertain effect: the whole thing seems disjointed – an accusation that, it is true, can also be made of the Ives sonata, except that Ives’ insatiable cleverness knits matters together surprisingly well. After Currier’s piece comes a short Ernest Bloch interlude: Nigun from the Baal Shem Suite. The straightforwardly emotional evocation of this piece contrasts both with Currier’s music and with the Ives that appears next on the disc. After the Ives there is another brief work, Chant douloureux by Ivan Wyschnegradsky (1893-1979). Here the rather growly piano part fits somewhat uneasily with the singsong material for the violin, all in an harmonic world that remains in flux. And then the CD ends with Ravel’s Sonata No. 2 for Violin and Piano, which is actually the longest work on the disc. The pleasant near-simplicity of the sound of this sonata contrasts with the generally denser and more-complex sonorities of much of the rest of this recital. The dissonant and insistent second-movement Blues and the initially hesitant final Perpetuum mobile are engaging and quite different from anything else on the disc – surely a pleasant contrast for some listeners, but likely a somewhat confusing non-climactic conclusion for others. Auerbach and Pierce play everything with aplomb and with sensitivity to the composers’ varying styles, but like the Ensari/Schuch CD, this one comes across better when heard as a series of individual pieces than it does if listened to in the hope of discovering clear continuity (or distinct contrast) from start to finish.

     On one level, it is less difficult to follow the musical arc on a new AVIE disc featuring cellist Yoshika Masuda and pianist HyeJin Kim: this is yet another of the now-common CDs offering works solely by woman composers, the aim being in some not-entirely-clear way to redress the balance of the many releases featuring music by men. Political correctness aside, the approach is rather silly, since the music stands or falls – or should stand or fall – based on its quality rather than the gender of those who created it, and women are quite as capable as men of writing music of excellence or mediocrity. In any case, the underlying organizing principle of this release is clear, but the effectiveness of listening to it from start to finish is less so. That is because the 73-minute disc is very much dominated by a single 39-minute piece: Great Dramatic Sonata “Titus et Bérénice” by Rita Strohl (1865-1941). The entire CD thus succeeds or fails based on audience response to this work – the five other offerings here, including those by composers much better known than Strohl, take up only 34 minutes total and are all relegated to being little more than preludes or encores. By arrangement, though, the other pieces lead up to and then away from Strohl’s work, much as there is a lead-in and follow-up to Ives on the Auerbach/Pierce CD. Strohl’s sonata itself is very much a large-scale work – its first movement alone is longer than any non-Strohl piece on this disc. That movement proclaims the broad concept of the sonata from the start, then progresses through a series of broadly Romantic gestures to paint a portrait of the complexities and intrigues involving the Roman emperor Titus and his lover Berenice, who among other things was present at the trial of the apostle Paul. The second movement is a delicate Vivace; the third, a slow and expressive (if somewhat overdone) Lento, Tristamente; and the finale, another large-scale movement that balances the first in its dramatic impact. The sonata is somewhat overextended and tends to wallow a bit in its emotions, but it is well-constructed and sounds warmly convincing in this performance – it is a very fine rediscovery, if scarcely a masterpiece. In terms of placement on the CD, Strohl’s work follows two by far-better-known composers. The disc opens with Amy Beach’s Romance, whose understated rather than over-the-top lyricism and reasonable length (six-and-a-half minutes) make it an effective curtain-raiser and a pleasure in its own right. It is followed by Clara Schumann’s 3 Romanzen, the first two quietly crepuscular and the third having a bit more momentum but retaining a level of twilight. Strohl’s grand sonata follows, after which Masuda and Kim offer the world première recording of one word makes a world (one of those pieces without capital letters in the title) by Reena Esmail (born 1983). Despite a gloomy opening that more-or-less ties to the mood of Strohl’s sonata, Esmail’s piece never quite establishes its seriousness, although Masuda and Kim play it as carefully and convincingly as they perform Strohl’s much larger work and, indeed, all the music on this CD. After the Esmail, Masuda and Kim offer Trois Pièces pour Cello et Piano by Nadia Boulanger (1887-1979). These are a form of high-quality salon music: the cello dominates the sound, which is warm and pleasant throughout without exploring any particularly profound feelings. The bright and bouncy final piece is the most winning of the three. The CD concludes with Sicilienne by Maria Theresia Paradis (1759-1824). A sweetly rocking berceuse-like dollop of gentleness, this offers a quietly pleasing conclusion for the CD and shows Masuda and Kim at their most delicate. Listeners interested in discovering a major Romantic-era violin-and-piano work will scarcely be disappointed in having a disc centered on Strohl’s sonata. But the remaining pieces here are, on their own, rather thin fare, although all are well-made and well-performed. The recital as a whole clearly reflects the performers’ desire to display this collection of musical moments in a certain way – which means that listeners who happen to find this specific sequence congenial are the ones who will enjoy hearing the disc from start to finish. Others will likely find individual pieces here more inviting if taken out of this particular context and heard on their own.