Category Archives: Vocal

On Record – Orchestre National de France / Cristian Măcelaru – Enescu: Symphonies nos.1-3; Romanian Rhapsodies 1 & 2 (Deutsche Grammophon)

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Orchestre National de France / Cristian Măcelaru with Choeur de Radio France (Symphony no.3)

Enescu
2 Romanian Rhapsodies Op.11: no.1 in A major, no.2 in D major (1901)
Symphony no.1 in E flat major Op. 13 (1905)
Symphony no.2 in A major Op. 17 (1912-14)
Symphony no.3 in C major Op. 21 (1916-18, rev. 1920)

DG 4865505 [three discs, 2h42m24s]
Producer Vincent Villetard Engineer Yves Baudry
Recorded September 2022 (Symphony no.1, Rhapsody no.2) June (Symphony no.2, Rhapsody no.1) and July 2023 (Symphony no.3) in Auditorium de Radio France, Paris

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Deutsche Grammophon continues its survey of those symphonic cycles ‘less well trod’ with this collection of the three numbered symphonies which Enescu completed, performed by the Orchestre National de France and its music director these past four seasons Cristian Măcelaru.

What’s the music like?

Although symphonies were a preoccupation of Enescu over almost 50 years, his reputation in the genre rests on those written during the earlier phase of his maturity. Numerous cycles have appeared that feature Romanian forces, but only three from elsewhere – Lawrence Foster with orchestras in Monte Carlo and Lyon (EMI / Warner), Gennady Rozhdestvensky with the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra (Chandos) and Hannu Lintu with the Tampere Philharmonic (Ondine). Măcelaru thus enters a select but not uncompetitive field where his recordings generally hold their own.

Relatively compact as to its formal dimensions, the First Symphony gives a good overview of the relative strengths and weaknesses in Măcelaru’s approach. The initial movement is vividly launched with its proclamatory summons, but an increasing loss of focus means the climactic lead-in to the reprise is undersold and the coda lacks decisiveness. The slow movement finds the ONF woodwind at its most felicitous, though the beatific central span is more persuasively realized than the inward ambiguity on either side, while the finale seems more convincing in its purposeful opening than towards its close – when what should be among the most thrilling perorations in the symphonic literature of this period sounds almost offhand. Often performed in its early years, this is a work that could yet find its way back into the orchestral repertoire.

By contrast, the Second Symphony was a failure at its 1915 premiere then went unheard until six years after the composer’s death. Strauss replaces Berlioz as the primary influence, albeit with a fastidious instrumentation to which the ONF players do justice. That said, Măcelaru is no more successful than most others in maintaining momentum across the expansive opening Allegro, so that any impetus has dissipated well before the development unsuccessfully tries to regain it. Akin to a series of variations on a theme that the clarinet never quite defines, the central Andante is eloquently rendered while the finale’s martial introduction has the requisite stealthiness. Yet the Allegro fails to sustain itself to the most opulent of Enescu’s apotheoses, not least because orchestral sound lacks the weight and visceral force necessary in this music.

Composed during Romania’s torrid involvement in the First World War, the Third Symphony is among Enescu’s greatest achievements and the highlight of Măcelaru’s cycle. He paces the initial Moderato such that its questing and rhetorical elements are held in persuasive accord -building to a resplendent culmination from where the central Vivace surges forth; its alternate ebullience and ambivalence propelled intently towards a shattering climax which, as with the sinister coda, is seamlessly integrated into this movement overall. Never lacking for repose, the final Lento unfolds with intuitive if tangible poise – Choeur de Radio France effortlessly absorbed into a diaphanous music whose closing stages radiate an almost metaphysical aura. Whether or not Dante-esque as to its inspiration, this affords a transcendence rare in any era.

A pity no Enescu cycle has yet included the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies which, as realized in the 1990s by Pascal Bentoiu, make a logical and necessary continuation of his symphonic odyssey (they have been recorded by Peter Ruzicka for CPO). A pity too that, instead of the Third Orchestral Suite or the symphonic poem Vox Maris, Măcelaru opted for the ubiquitous Romanian Rhapsodies. The Second of these is more appealing here, for all that the fervency toward its centre and pathos at its close are under-projected, while the First is rushed early on and underwhelming thereafter. No match, then, for a host of previous readings – among these, Antal Doráti with the London Symphony (Mercury) and, especially, Constantin Silvestri with the Czech Philharmonic (Supraphon) retain their innate potency after more than six decades.

Does it all work?

Swings and roundabouts. In the context of those cycles mentioned earlier, Măcelaru’s take on the Third Symphony ranks with the best – but, in the First, Lintu or Foster and, in the Second, Foster are to be preferred. The quality of playing cannot be denied, and if the recording lacks a degree of definition and impact in more demonstrative passages, it presents this orchestra to advantage. Rob Cowan essays a personable booklet note, but to claim that these symphonies ‘‘…emerge more as extended tone poems clothed in symphonic dress’’ is simply not the case.

Is it recommended?

Yes, taken overall. Enescu’s symphonies are still on the periphery of the orchestral repertoire, so making the undoubted advocacy a high-profile conductor such as Măcelaru gives them the more admirable. Hopefully he will be continuing his exploration of a singular musical vision.

Buy

For purchasing options, visit the Deutsche Grammophon website and for more information on the artists, click on the names for more on Orchestre National de France and conductor Cristian Măcelaru. For dedicated resources on the composer, you can visit The International Enescu Society

Published post no.2,258 – Friday 2 August 2024

On Record – MahlerFest XXXII: Joshua DeVane sings Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen, Kenneth Woods conducts Symphony no.1

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Joshua DeVane (baritone); Colorado MahlerFest Chamber Orchestra (Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen), Colorado MahlerFest Orchestra / Kenneth Woods

Mahler Symphony no.1 in D major (1887-8, rev, 1898)
Mahler arr. Schoenberg Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (1884-5, arr. 1920)
Mahler Blumine (1884, rev. 1889)

Colorado MahlerFest 195269164287 [79’02”]
Live performances on 18 May 2019 (Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen), 19 May 2019, Macky Auditorium, Boulder, Colorado

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Recorded representation of the current MahlerFest era continues to grow with this release on CD (previously available as a download) of the First Symphony with related pieces, given at its 32nd edition and what was the fourth such event with Kenneth Woods as artistic director.

What’s the music like?

What was doubtless intended to inaugurate a chronological traversal began in 2019 with this performance of the First Symphony, the first to be heard in the critical edition published that year by Breitkopf & Härtel. Woods has written about this extensively at his website [Ken on the Great Mahler Debate of 2019 | Kenneth Woods – conductor]: suffice to add the numerous corrections and textural amendments enhance that fuller and more stratified orchestral sound such as Mahler favoured in 1899 when compared with earlier versions from 1889 and 1893.

Interpretatively, this performance is a satisfying one with few overt surprises but no obvious idiosyncrasies. Any lack of atmosphere during the first movement’s mesmeric introduction is offset by its easeful if never uneventful continuation – thus a subtly differentiated exposition repeat, then stealthy marshalling of expressive tension to a coda whose joyousness is rightly kept within limits. The scherzo is robust yet propulsive and the trio even finer in its unforced suavity, while the funeral march never over-inflects its Klezmer elements unfolding from the ominous and ironic, via gentle repose, to a closing fatalism. Woods succeeds better than most in holding together the unwieldy finale, allowing due emotional space for the recall of initial ideas that is its sure highlight, and the ensuing apotheosis lacks nothing in blazing affirmation.

Included as an encore is Blumine, the ‘romance’ salvaged from earlier incidental music which formed part of this symphony until being jettisoned in 1894 – here emerging with its elegance and pathos devoid of wanton sentiment. The actual concert continued with Korngold’s Violin Concerto then Beethoven’s Third Leonora Overture reorchestrated by Mahler, but the present release opens with a performance from the previous day’s concert of Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen. This is heard in a chamber arrangement as supervised by Schoenberg for the 1920 season of his Society for Private Musical Performances, its textural transparency underlining the soulfulness then buoyancy of its opening two songs. If the (over-wrought?) drama of the third song is under-projected, the wistful radiance of its successor comes across unimpeded.

Does it all work?

Indeed it does, overall. Mahler symphonies may have been performed and recorded by a host of international orchestras, but that of the Colorado MahlerFest lacks nothing in commitment or tenacity; any lack of atmosphere and finesse owes more to the clear if confined acoustic of Macky Auditorium than absence of quiet playing or overriding of dynamics. Joshua DeVane is a thoughtful exponent of the song-cycle, at his best in the restrained inwardness of its outer numbers, while the ensemble drawn from the CMO makes a persuasive case for this reduction.

Is it recommended?

It is. The orchestral playing may have grown in conviction with each new instalment, but this is a notable statement of intent for MahlerFest under Woods’s direction. That the 33rd edition had to be scaled down then presented online had little effect on the resolve of those involved.

Buy

For further purchase options, visit the MahlerFest website – and for more information on the festival itself, click here. Click on the names for further information on conductor Kenneth Woods and soloist Joshua DeVane

Published post no.2,247 – Monday 22 July 2024

On Record – Hensel: Lieder (First Hand Records)

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Fanny Hensel
Wenn ich ihn nur habe. Die Schönheit Nicht, Mädchen, Wohl deinem Liebling (all 1820). Der Abendstern. Die sanften Tage, Der Sänger. An die Entfernte (all 1823). Auf der Wanderung. Abschied. Mond. Sehnsucht, HU190 (all 1824-6). Sehnsucht, HU192. Maigesang. Seufzer. An den Mond. An die Ruhe. Sehnsucht, HU203. Sehnsucht, HU205. Umsonst. Suleika (all 1827). Sehnsucht, HU217. Nacht. In der Ferne (all 1828-33). Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh’. Ach, die Augen sind es wieder. Das Meer Erglänzte. Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen (all 1835-8). Der Fürst vom Berge. Traurige Wege. Dämmrung senkte sich von oben. Traum. Mutter, o sing mich zur Ruh’ (all 1840-44). Erwache Knab’. Vorwurf (both 1846).

Jennifer Parker, Stephanie Wake-Edwards (mezzo-sopranos), Tim Parker-Langston (tenor), Jâms Coleman, Genevieve Ellis, Ewan Gilford (pianos)

First Hand Records FHR148 [82’25’’]
German texts and English translations included. Producers and Engineers Tim Parker-Langston, David Jones
Recorded 3-8 January 2023 at Mendelssohn-Haus, Leipzig, Germany

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

First Hand Records expands its already enterprising catalogue with this release of Lieder by Fanny Hensel (1805-47) – Felix Mendelssohn’s elder sister – who has recently come into her own not least through her prolific song output, many of which are only now being recorded.

What’s the music like?

Hensel left some 450 individual works, with songs comprising over half this total. A handful of these appeared under her brother’s name, while she had published just three collections of songs and piano pieces at the time of her death: a measure of the extent of her composing is that half of those songs featured here are being recorded for the first time. Covering some 26 years, this selection feels representative of her musical development in terms of its evolving approach to harmony and word-setting, together with the range and type of authors being set.

Although other sequences are perfectly feasible, the decision to proceed chronologically is justified by relative unfamiliarity of Hensel’s songs. Starting with the appealing gaucheness of the Novalis setting If I could only have him, this continues with such relatively ambitious numbers as the Ludwig Uhland ballad The Gentle Days (at almost five minutes the longest item here) or wistful eloquence found in Ludwig Tieck’s Parting. A highlight is her setting   of Ludwig Hölty’s May Song, notably the subtle variations of tone and texture drawn from its 12 verses. The songs from the late 1830s include a striking treatment of Heinrich Heine’s I wondered beneath the trees and those from the early 1840s include the sustained intensity found in Nikolaus Lenau’s Sorrowful Paths, which poet’s Reproach is almost her last song.

A good way into Hensel’s songs is through comparing those five items (from a total of nine) all entitled Sehnsucht (Longing) and written during the mid-to later 1820s. First, a setting of Johann Voss which never ventures far from its subdued opening; next, a setting of Hölty that points up this poem’s conflicting images with real acuity, followed with two briefer settings by these poets (that by Hölty the shortest here at barely 50 seconds) such as amply turn such succinctness to expressive advantage and, finally, a poem by Friedrich Märcker whose overt pantheism inspires a setting of gentle profundity. Here, as in almost all these songs, Hensel never forces the issue with regard to ‘interpreting’ the words at hand – rather, her approach is to tease out its meaning through a dialogue between voice and piano in which inference is all.

Does it all work?

Almost always, not least owing to the advocacy of these artists. The lion’s share is entrusted to Tim Parker-Langston (not unreasonably so given his masterminding of this project), whose mellifluous tenor is eminently suited to Hensel’s music. Of the two mezzos, Stephanie Wake-Edwards’s soulful contralto is duly complemented on three numbers with the lighter tone of Jennifer Parker. The 34 songs are divided almost equally between three pianists who, between them, confirm Hensel wrote as idiomatically as any more illustrious peer for this combination.

Is it recommended?

It is, given this release is a significant contribution to the ongoing dissemination of Hensel’s music. The booklet, too, is admirably produced with its succinct introductory note alongside full texts and translations. Those looking for an overview of these songs need look no further.

Buy

You can explore purchase options on the First Hand Records website Click to read about Hensel Songs Online, and on the artist names to read more on Jennifer Parker, Stephanie Wake-Edwards, Tim Parker-Langston, Jâms Coleman, Genevieve Ellis and Ewan Gilford

Published post no.2,173 – Thursday 9 May 2024

On Record – Serena Wey, Basel Sinfonietta / Mark FitzGerald – Weill: Die sieben Todsünden, Die Dreigroschenoper, Suite panaméenne (First Hand)

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Weill
Die sieben Todsünden (1933)
Die Dreigroschenoper – Suite, arr. Schönherr (1928, arr. 1956)
Suite panaméenne (1934)
September Song (1938)
Surabaya-Johnny (1929)

Serena Wey (soprano), Martin Müller, Werner Güra (tenors), Othmar Sturm (baritone), Grzegorz Rózycki (bass), Basel Sinfonietta / Mark Fitz-Gerald

First Hand Records FHR140 [65’48’’]
German texts included. Producer Philipp Steiner Remastering Engineer John Croft
Recorded 3 February 1991 and 5 September 1993 (Suite panaméenne) at Stadtcasino, Basel

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

First Hand Records continues its series of reissues with this appealing collection of music by Kurt Weill, capably performed by the Basel Sinfonietta and judiciously conducted by Mark Fitz-Gerald, who has since become synonymous with recreating Shostakovich’s film scores.

What’s the music like?

The main work is The Seven Deadly Sins, the ‘ballet chanté’ Weill wrote in Paris after having departed Berlin in the wake of Nazi rule and which was his final collaboration with Berthold Brecht. Written as a vehicle for his wife Lotta Lenya this found only limited success, though its conceit of the main role being split between singer and dancer was to prove influential on later generations of dramaturgs. Serena Wey captures the spirit of Anna in her journey from innocence to experience over each of those sins, their respective settings in seven American cities pointing up that critique of Capitalism which Brecht and (still at this time) Weill were intent on making. The four male vocalists ably convey the role of ‘The Family’, somewhere between Greek Chorus and Barbershop Quartet in its pertinent observations and occasional tendency to moralize. Often revived with its main role transposed to the mezzo register, the piece benefits from being heard as it was conceived and, had it been issued at the time, this account would have been early in establishing an authentic ‘tradition’ of Weill performance.

Suites derived from two of Weill’s other stage-works are further enhancements, even if that from The Threepenny Opera is not the one he himself adapted – rather, a truncated selection by Max Schönherr (1903-84), a composer and conductor of light music whose arrangement for full orchestra is expert rather than inspired but features most of the items for which this ‘play with music’ remains famous. More valuable, though, is the Panamanian Suite drawn from incidental music to the play by Jacques Deval that takes in a breezy Introduction and uproarious March of the Panamanian Army alongside the pert fusion of Tango-Habañera and no less catchy Tempo di Foxtrot – this suite echoing the masterly and still underrated Second Symphony from the same time in its deft irony and edgy melodicism. Of those two songs which round off this release, September Song (Knickerbocker Holiday) sounds oddly uninvolving in German, despite Martin Müller’s mellifluous delivery, but Surabaya-Johnny (Happy End) leaves a plangent spell even out of context through Wey’s affecting eloquence.

Does it all work?

Pretty much. As already indicated, the performances are never less than idiomatic thanks to Fitz-Gerald’s evident sympathy with Weill’s subtle changing idiom and committed playing from the Basel musicians. The sound is a little dull and unyielding, though the remastering has clearly done much to improve it, with Rodney Smith’s succinct and informative notes a welcome addition. A pity that only the original German texts have been included here, but English translations can be found online while the presentation cannot otherwise be faulted.

Is it recommended?

Indeed, and as more than merely an archival release. The performance of the main work can hold its own with most of those which choose the original version, and it is to be hoped that more instances of Fitz-Gerald’s Basel collaborations from this period can be made available.

Listen

Buy

You can explore purchase options on the First Hand Records website Click on the artist names to read more on conductor Mark Fitz-Gerald, soprano Serena Wey, tenor Martin Müller and the Basel Sinfonietta

Published post no.2,171 – Tuesday 7 May 2024

On Record – George Lloyd: A Litany & A Symphonic Mass (Lyrita)

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George Lloyd
A Symphonic Mass (1990-92)
Brighton Festival Chorus, Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, Philharmonia Orchestra / George Lloyd
A Litany (1994-5)
Janice Watson (soprano), Jeremy White (baritone), Guildford Choral Society, Philharmonia Orchestra / George Lloyd

Lyrita SRCD.2419 [two discs, 60’44” and 49’30”] Latin and English texts included

Producers Ben Turner (A Symphonic Mass), Christopher James (A Litany)
Engineers Harold Barnes, Alan Mosely (A Symphonic Mass), Tony Faulkner (A Litany)

Recorded 19 & 20 June 1993 at Guildhall, Southampton (A Symphonic Mass), 24 & 25 March 1996 at Town Hall, Watford

George Lloyd
Requiem (1997-8)
Psalm 130 (1995)

Stephen Wallace (countertenor), Jeffrey Makinson (organ), Exon Singers / Matthew Owens

Lyrita SRCD.420 [63’22”] Latin and English texts included

Producer Ben Turner Engineer Harold Barnes

Recorded 31 August – 2 September 2000 at Church of St Alban the Martyr, Holborn, London

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Lyrita continues its reissue schedule of George Lloyd-related recordings for the Albany label – the ‘Signature Edition’ – with those three late choral works which, between them, constitute a worthy culmination to a composing career with few parallels in the annals of British music.

What’s the music like?

While three operas and twelve symphonies are the backbone of Lloyd’s output, choral music came to the fore during his final decade. Few would have demurred had the composer called A Symphonic Mass his ‘Thirteenth Symphony’, given its formal cohesion and harnessing of its liturgical text to a structure in which thematic consistency and cumulative momentum are uppermost. Hence the opposing conflict and consolation in the Kyrie anticipates a struggle reflected, in the Gloria, by the music’s juxtaposing of fervent outbursts with a luminous and otherworldly calm. The Credo becomes an extended development of motifs and expression, informed by an acute relating of textual imagery to musical content – its strenuousness offset by a brief if potent orchestral interlude that is the Offertorium. The piece climaxes with the Sanctus and Benedictus, its rapt intensity heightened by the blazing affirmation at Osanna; after which, the Agnus Dei passes through doubt and apprehension before achieving a new-found though hard-won serenity at Dona nobis pacem. Certainly, a Mass of its time and ours.

Three years on, and A Litany is less inclusive but equally involving – even with Lloyd’s aim of composing a ‘repertoire’ piece likely undermined by the size of its orchestral forces or the demands of its vocal writing. Its words are the first 12 (out of 28) verses from John Donne’s eponymous poem, as set by Lloyd from a spiritual yet non-specifically religious standpoint. Despite being in four movements, this is not an overtly symphonic conception – though the formal follow-through is nothing if not cohesive in its relating of music to text. The opening Allegro Dramatico pursues its respectively passionate then sombre traversal of the first two verses, the ensuing Allegro being akin to an extended intermezzo in its setting the third and fourth verses with a deft yet often oblique eloquence. The brief Adagio focusses on the fifth verse in an intimate acapella setting, then the final Vivace sets the sixth to twelfth verses as   a cumulative sequence in which passing anxiety is gradually overcome; the music accruing the energy needed to hit the ground running for what becomes a decidedly affirmative close.

Written in the months before his death, with a dedication to the memory of Diana, Princess of Wales, the Requiem is an understated if characteristic swansong with, at almost 55 minutes, a scale comparable to those earlier works. This follows the expected liturgical text with just a few pointed modifications (no Libera me at the end), its 16 designated sections falling into three main parts. Requiem and Kyrie sets the reflective if by no means unvaried tone of the whole and highlights the role of the countertenor – occupying the lower end of its compass so that it becomes the subdued complement to choral writing notable for its textural clarity and inwardness. The Dies irae sequence (itself in two halves) has a notably perky Tuba mirum and songful Rex tremendae, while the Lacrimosa seems consoling rather than elegiac. The third part takes in a whimsical Hostias, brief but vibrant Sanctus, elegant and supplicatory Agnus Dei, then a Lux aeterna as sees the whole work through to its close with the voices gradually receding in gently undulating chords for what is a serene yet poignant valediction.

Three years earlier, Lloyd had composed two pieces for unaccompanied choir – of which his setting of Psalm 130 (Out of the depths) is notable for its often circumspect while never aloof manner, the emergence of a soprano in the later stages pointing up its mood of tentative hope.

Does it all work?

Yes, and not least owing to the persuasiveness of recordings made soon after their respective premieres. Lloyd secures a dedicated response in the Mass from the Brighton Festival Chorus (under the redoubtable László Heltay) and Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra while, in the Litany, the Guildford Choral Society (for whom it was written) and Philharmonia Orchestra are no less committed. In the latter piece Janice Watson gives a thrilling contribution, but Jeremy White is not wholly at ease for all his warm nobility. As for the Requiem, the Exon Singers sound tonally assured and Stephen Wallace copes ably with his distinctively conceived role, while Jeffrey Makinson applies a light touch to organ writing as evinces a continuo-like dexterity, though it might yet be worth transcribing this part for woodwind and brass so as to open-out its expressive ambit.

Is it recommended?

Indeed, not least as these reissues come with full texts and detailed notes from Paul Conway. Inherently unoriginal while unequivocally sincere, Lloyd’s late choral works are far removed from the facile disingenuity of much current choral music and are the more appealing for this.

Listen & Buy

For further information visit the dedicated George Lloyd page at the Nimbus website

Published post no.2,164 – Tuesday 30 April 2024