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Beethoven: Piano Trios, op. 1, nos. 1 & 2

Rautio Piano Trio
60:36
resonus RES10305

To my mind, one of the great pleasures of early Beethoven is encountering the future giant as he flexes his muscles, makes his first confident flights of fancy and exercises his ever-increasing power and strength. While admitting there is of course more than a fair share of wisdom after the event about making such an observation, it is nonetheless substantially true. It certainly is, I think, regarding the three Piano Trios of op 1. First given in 1793 at the Viennese home of Beethoven’s patron Prince Lichnowsky, to whom the trios were dedicated, they were revised before publication two years later. Advised by Haydn to make changes, Beethoven not only admitted to his youthful profligacy, observing he had introduced into one work ‘enough music for twenty’, but thanked Haydn for his advice. When the trios were published in 1795, very likely courtesy of a secret subvention by Lichnowsky, they were a great success among the Viennese. It is said they earned him nearly two years’ worth of the salary he had been paid in the post he occupied in Bonn before coming to Vienna.

One of the first things to be noted about the op 1 trios is their ambitious scale. Unlike the three-movement trios of Haydn and Mozart, they are cast in four movements and planned as expansive works, which, if no longer containing enough ideas for twenty, are arresting pieces overflowing with the young composer’s sheer joie de vivre and the unadulterated pleasure of composing. It is these qualities that are so convincingly and compellingly communicated by the period-instrument Rautio Piano Trio (Jane Gordon, violin; Victoria Simonson, cello and Jan Rautio, fortepiano). Both string players play original 17th-century instruments, by G B Rogeri and G Granico respectively, while Rautio’s is based by Paul McNulty on an 1805 Viennese fortepiano built by the Walters. It’s an exceptionally fine-sounding instrument, with an appealingly silvery top and a richly endowed bass capable of powerful chords when necessary. To hear how well and beguilingly the instruments can interact, try the lovely Adagio cantabile (ii) of the Trio in E flat (No 1), where the violin’s song-like melody is joined in dialogue by the cello and then delightful filigree work by the piano, all beautifully balanced. Throughout tempi are well judged, with the players not misled in the ‘slow’ movement of the G-major Trio by the Largo con expressione marking, achieving just the right flow for the movement. And for sheer exuberance go the Finale of the same Trio, with its headlong chasse-like impetus disrupted only by what sounds like a bucolic dance. Technically the playing is of a high order, with Rautio himself, as one might expect in these works, stealing the thunder, his splendid articulation and clean finger-work being a constant pleasure.  Just occasionally I thought the violinist’s tone a little thin, though this may be the recording, which in all other aspects is fine. Overall this is an outstanding addition to the catalogue and it is much to be hoped that the Rautios will complete the set with the C-minor Trio.

Brian Robins

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Recording

The Poor Branch

Nineteenth-century guitar music by Ivan Klinger (1818-97)
James Akers guitar
64:18
resonus RES10302

Ivan Andreevich Klinger (1818-1897) was born in Kherson, Ukraine. His guitar music is little known today, although much of it is available online at IMSLP. Unlike so many of his contemporaries from his part of the world, Klinger wrote for the six-string classical guitar, or Spanish guitar, rather than the Russian seven-string guitar with its characteristic open G tuning of DGBdgbd’. Klinger’s music is very easy on the ears – charming melodies decorated with occasional chromatic inflections and virtuosic interjections – arpeggios, harmonics, changes of tempo, glissandos, but always lyrical, and exploiting the full range of the instrument. Klinger’s compositional skill and James Akers’ sensitive interpretation combine to produce a premiere recording which has been a pleasure to review. The CD is enhanced by excellent liner notes from Oleg Timofeyev, who puts the pieces in context, and provides a wealth of interesting information about them.

Fantasy no. 2, is an attractive piece with considerable variety. An Introduction opens with two phrases, each consisting of five plucked chords, a flourish of single notes, and harmonics; there follows a short passage of arpeggios marked diminuendo, followed by a tremolo marked accelerando. The mood is set for three folk song melodies: “In the garden”, “I love Peter”, and “A birch tree stood in the field”. Each melody is played with variations, including an extraordinary and very effective imitation of the balalaika: the note b is held at the 4th fret of the 3rd string acting as a drone, occasionally dipping down to a# for a first inversion of the dominant; the melody is sustained on the first string; and the second string fills out the harmony, often duplicating in unison the b of the third string; all chords are strummed, but only involving the first three strings of the guitar, creating second inversions of E minor. This is just like the balalaika, which has three strings, is strummed with the fingers, and typically involves unisons and unavoidable inversions of chords.

So much of Klinger’s music is cheerful, but a change of mood comes with “Elegie par Henri Vogel”, which begins with a sad melody sustained by gloomy repeated chords low down in the bass. In his liner notes Oleg Timofeyev explains that the music was originally a composition by Henri Vogel (1845-1900) for viola and piano, and he describes what Klinger has done to adapt it for solo guitar.

The title of the CD, “The Poor Branch”, comes from the title of a song composed by Nikolai Titov (1800-75), which Klinger arranged for solo guitar adding his own variations. It is heard as the penultimate track of the CD. One can easily imagine Klinger captivating 19th-century salon audiences in Ukraine and thereabouts with his playing, and hopefully James Akers will succeed in introducing Klinger’s music to a wider audience today.

Stewart McCoy

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Recording

Paris 1847

La musique d’Eugène Jancourt
Mathieu Lussier bassoon, Camille Paquette-Roy cello, Sylvain Bergeron guitar, Valérie Milot harp
97:00 [NB this includes two sonatas that can be downloaded from ATMA’s website]
Atma Classique ACD2 2834

I have to say that if I were to choose an ensemble to perform representative music from 1847 Paris then a combination of bassoon, cello, guitar and harp would be some way down the list of possibilities. But one has to at least give a hearing to a player described as ‘a harpist with the soul of a rebel’.

And what a delight! Our rebellious harpist is not the star but she is a more or less constant presence in music composed and/or arranged by Eugène Jancourt, noted bassoonist and pedagogue, who published his comprehensive Méthode in 1847. Mathieu Lussier here takes responsibility for bringing his predecessor’s work to our notice in a quite brilliant recital of music which cannot be described as profound but which is certainly much more than merely instructional for aspiring players. There are affecting slow movements and jolly rondos as well as arrangements of Donizetti, Bellini and Schubert, all for bassoon with an accompaniment for either cello or a second bassoon (here always a cello). To these, the ensemble adds harp (or, for one piece, guitar) as a sort of mid-19th-century continuo. Questionable in HIP terms, but effective.

The booklet essay (in French and English) includes extensive quotes from Jancourt and the graphic designer has managed to combine the inevitably small font with legibility. But to end with the music. If outstanding – actually, remarkable – performances of charming if unknown repertoire appeal to you in any way, go for this. The music can all be found on IMSLP.

David Hansell

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Recording

Asioli: Cello Sonata, Piano Sonatas

Francesco Galligioni cello, Jolanda Violante fortepiano
70:06
Brilliant Classics 95908

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The fortunes of Bonifazio Asiola very much mirror the rise and fall of the Napoleonic Kingdom of Italy – in 1807 at the age of 38 he is appointed director of the Milan Conservatory by the French Viceroy only to be forced into early retirement by the fall of Napoleon in 1814, although he continued to teach and compose until his death in 1832. Labelled a ‘Sonata per Clavicembalo e Violoncello Obbligato’, Asioli’s Cello Sonata is very much in the new idiom where the cello usually takes the melodic initiative while the piano tends to accompany, although the demanding keyboard part is also allowed to sparkle. This is a substantial work with wonderfully idiomatic writing for the cello – it was after all in Italy that the cello had originally emerged from its traditional continuo role to become a solo instrument. This work was composed in 1784 as a Divertimento for cello and piano, although by 1817 when it was published it had acquired a name more befitting its substantial nature.

We also hear two of Asioli’s three Piano Sonatas op 8, published around 1790, works of considerable musical variety and charm. They are given powerful and expressive renditions by Jolanda Violante on a copy of a bright and incisive Walter & Son fortepiano of 1805, while Francesco Galligioni plays wonderfully eloquently on a late 17th-century Cremonese cello. The excellent programme note by Licia Sirch mentions in passing a wealth of other work by Bonifazio Asioli, and on the basis of these three attractive sonatas, he is a name we should watch out for. But for the vagaries of history, he would probably be much more generally appreciated.

D. James Ross

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Recording

Schubert: Complete Symphonies & Fragments

L’Orfeo Barockorchester, Michi Gaigg
277:25 (4 CDs in a double jewel box)
cpo 555 228-2

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Any project to record the complete Schubert symphonies is a challenge. He is famously the composer of an ‘unfinished’ symphony, but in fact Schubert was a serial ‘unfinisher’ of symphonic material, and even the total number and indeed the numbering of his complete symphonies are contested. In the early 1980s, the Academy of St Martin in the Fields recorded Schubert’s ‘10 Symphonies’, including impressive reconstructions by Brian Newbold using the surviving fragments. Subsequently, a number of period instrument ensembles have settled for the eight complete symphonies. The present recording takes an alternative approach, presenting the eight complete symphonies – renumbered so that the ‘Unfinished’ is now number 7 and the ‘Great’ is number 8 – as well as all the related surviving fragments and overtures. Some of these, such as D729 are substantial, in essence, a fair proportion of two movements, whereas others D74A are tiny, coming in in the middle of the action and then cut short. There is a definite academic interest in hearing any orchestral sketches Schubert left behind, and once you are prepared for the shock of a section cutting off in mid-flow, they do also make interesting listening. Besides, you can always select only the complete symphonies to listen to if that is what you want. These are live recordings, with some retakes added later, and have all the excitement of the concert performance about them. Just occasionally there are tuning issues, fluffs, and some extraneous noises, but nothing to interfere with the overall enjoyment. Michi Gaigg’s direction finds the magic in even the slightest of fragments, and she and her forces rise well to the challenge and scale of the later symphonies. She also has an unerring instinct for tempo, and has an excellent line-up of woodwind principals to take full advantage of Schubert’s famously rewarding woodwind solos. I am not sure how often I will be listening to the fragments, but these definitely do inform what I think are excellent accounts of the complete symphonies.

D. James Ross

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The Proust Album

Shana Diluka piano, with Nathalie Dessay soprano, Pierre Fouchenneret violin, Guillaume Galliene speaker, Orchestre de chambre de Paris, Hervé Niquet
81:52
Warner Classics 0190296676253

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There is nothing either ‘Early Music’ or HIP here, but an important aspect of the EM movement has been the research and revival of repertoire that is forgotten/unknown yet worthwhile and it is in that spirit that we give this Proust-themed (ie music he liked) miscellany a brief notice. Reynaldo Hahn’s piano concerto was a welcome surprise, Wagner’s tiny Elegy (solo piano, as is most of the programme) intriguing, and the world premiere recording of Richard Strauss’s elaborately textured Nocturno should draw deserved attention to this relatively recent discovery.

The main essay (in French, English and German) stays on the right side of the informative/philosophical border though there is nothing about the artists. But if you feel like a wander away from your normal HIP path, there is much to enjoy here.

David Hansell

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Field: Nocturnes

Florent Albrecht de Meglio piano (1826)
65:14
Editions Hortus 197

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Long-time BBC listeners may remember Anthony Hopkins Talking about Music. One of those programmes explored a Field piano concerto (he wrote seven) as well as including the usual ‘inventor of the nocturne’ credit. Well, here are those nocturnes, played on a piano that Field certainly had the opportunity to play, even if we are not absolutely confident that he did so. The instrument has had only deliberately ‘light touch’ restorative work but retains great tonal charm, including the ability to deliver more HIP sustaining pedal use than we often hear (broadly, leave it down for longer).

As well as being the performer, Florent Albrecht has also undertaken the complex task of establishing a credible version of the musical texts and his deep involvement with the overall project results not only in playing of great technical accomplishment and musical judgement, but also and above all, of love. The piano also sounds very happy: its fragile treble positively glitters through all the filigree writing and we hear this most emphatically as ornamentation rather than ornate melody.

The booklet (in French and English) gives a comprehensive account of the project, including comments on the piano and the composer. I wouldn’t class myself as a ‘romantic piano music’ fan, but I absolutely loved this!

David Hansell

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Dussek: messe solemnelle

Stefanie True soprano, Helen Charlston mezzo-soprano, Gwilym Bowen tenor, Morgan Pearse baritone, Academy of Ancient Music, Choir of the AAM, Richard Egarr
60:14
AAM011

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That Jan Ladislav Dussek composed a Mass will doubtless come as a surprise to those that think of him nearly exclusively as a composer of piano music, though he did also provide music for a couple of stage works during the period he was in London in the 1790s. And indeed anyone thinking that can be forgiven, for the present ‘Messe Solemnelle à quatre voix’ lay undisturbed in the Library of the Luigi Cherubini Conservatory in Florence for some two hundred years after its first performance in 1810 or 1811. Bearing a dedication to Prince Nicolas Esterházy, it was composed for the nobleman’s name-day celebrations, thus falling into a distinguished series of works that includes the six great late Masses of Haydn and the C-major Mass of Beethoven. It owes its modern revival to the tenacity of the conductor of the present recording, Richard Egarr, who directed the first – and most likely only – public performance since the work’s premiere at Esterháza in London in 2019. The recording took place a few weeks later.

The work is planned on an extensive scale, although the proportions are unusual. The opening Kyrie, divided into the usual three parts, takes nearly 15 minutes in this performance, longer than the entire Credo, while the Agnus Dei is dominated by its final words, ‘Dona nobis pacem’, at first treated with prayerful invocation that turns to strident demands, rather in the manner of Haydn’s Missa in angustiis, the so-called ‘Nelson Mass’ of 1798. It is of course worth remembering that Europe was still in a ‘time of anxiety and affliction’ in 1810. The Mass is largely dominated by the chorus, with passages for the four soloists generally restricted to ensemble work. These often feature imitation, passages such as Benedictus, complimented by felicitous wind writing that betrays the composer’s Czech heritage. Only ‘Et in Spiritum’ is set as a true solo, an arietta for soprano in the shape of a flowing larghetto with warmly rich lower string textures that are something of a feature of the Mass. The opening Kyrie is melodically distinctive, the work as a whole having an engaging, sunny character far removed from the stern, rather old-fashioned Viennese tradition that continued to dominate the church music of Haydn, Mozart and even to some extent Beethoven.

The performance reflects strongly Richard Egarr’s declared devotion to Dussek in general and the Mass in particular, being imbued with a passionate drive in more dramatic passages, which frequently have a thrilling intensity, and real affection in Dussek’s lyrical, at times quasi-folk-like music. He draws splendid playing and commitment from the chorus and orchestra of the AAM, while his soloists blend well, although some will feel soprano Stefanie True displays too much vibrato for this repertoire.

In keeping with the other AAM issue to have come my way (Eccles’ Semele) the presentation is outstanding, with a lavishly illustrated 100-page booklet that includes no fewer than nine scholarly articles in addition to the usual artist biographies and text of the Mass. If I don’t feel able to go all the way with Egarr in his description of the Mass as great music, it is certainly both imposing and companionable. I am delighted to have made its acquaintance and hope others will too.

Brian Robins

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Napoli 1810

Italian Romantic Music
Pascal Valois
61:26
Analekta AN 2 9195
 
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Pascal Valois presents a programme of music composed by three Italian composers who flourished in the early part of the nineteenth century: Niccolo Paganini (1782–1840), Mauro Giuliani (1781–1829), and Ferdinando Carulli (1770–1841). He plays a guitar by Cabasse-Bernard built c. 1820, and tunes it to A=430. I wonder if the 10th fret is placed incorrectly, because the high d” sounds flat 19 seconds into track 3 – either that, or the string was tuned flat. There is no information in the liner notes about the strings Valois uses, but there are unfortunately loud high-pitched squeaks as he slides his fingers along the three lowest strings which are wound. On the whole I like his interpretation, which I think is appropriate for music from this period. He brings out a clear melodic line which allows the music to sing, and he phrases here and there with tasteful rubato. His performance is enhanced by a pleasing variety of contrasting tone colours.

Valois begins the CD with two movements from Paganini’s Grand Sonata for Guitar M.S.3. Interestingly the original publication has the title “Grand Sonata a Chitarra Sola con Accompagnamento di Violino”. The violin adds little of substance, and it is thought that it may have been included as an afterthought. Valois manages perfectly well on his own without inviting a friend to join him on violin. As to be expected of the great violinist Paganini, his guitar pieces are tricky to play, and it is their virtuosity which makes them attractive to the listener.  In the Andantino variato Scherzando, for example, Valois’ fingers scamper up and down the neck with a variety of contrasting ideas – triplets,  fast scales, parallel sixths, tremolos, the melody in octaves, chords interspersed with flashy flourishes – but the harmonic structure is extraordinarily banal – just tonic and dominant with a modulation to the dominant in both sections, and with the brief respite of a passing subdominant approaching the final cadence.

There follow Six Andantes for Guitar Op. 320 by Carulli: Andante affettuoso con poco moto in G major, starting with the same first four notes as Silent Night, and ending with a 3-octave arpeggio to top g”, echoed by a few fluffy harmonics and a descending arpeggio in octaves; a nicely paced Andante con moto in E major, where a slow, gentle, lyrical theme is followed by an exciting sequence of arpeggios and later by a sudden, dramatic shift to E minor; Andante molto sostenuto in A major with passages of descending triplets, of slow-moving chords supported by repeated notes in the bass, and a rising chromatic scale from low E marked “ritardando” leading us back to the opening theme; Andante giusto in F major, which has many notes clearly marked with an accent in Carulli’s manuscript (see IMSLP) – not consistently observed by Valois; Andante legiero e grazioso in the soft key E flat major, with an exciting run of fast notes including a glissando in bar 23; and Andante risoluto in the bright key of D major to finish.

The history of the guitar – of the 4-course instrument of the 16th century, the 5-course instrument of the 17th century, and the 6-course instrument of the 19th century – has been bedevilled by a lack of bass notes, and compromises involving less than satisfactory inversions of chords have been inevitable. So it is with Giuliani’s Guitar Sonata Op. 15. At the end of the first and last movements he wants a big chord of C major, ideally with a low C in the bass. Unfortunately the lowest note available on his 6-course guitar is a third higher at E. Rather than make do with a root position chord with a high bass c, he writes a first inversion chord using that low E. It may sound odd, but better to finish with a first inversion than lose sonority in the bass.

Other pieces of music by Carulli are Guitar Sonatina Op. 59 No. 1, and Guitar Sonata Op. 159 No. 1. In his liner notes Valois says that both are world premiere recordings. The Sonatina  may have a certain charm, but it is not great music.  It consists of a slow Larghetto and a sprightly Rondo Allegretto. If you removed all the tonic and dominant chords, there would be little left to play. Some relief comes in the Rondo with a brief digression to the minor. The Sonata – just a Larghetto – is more satisfying, and benefits from Valois’ sensitive playing.

Stewart McCoy

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Beyond Beethoven

Anneke Scott horn, Steven Devine 
77:51
resonus RES10267

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This programme of music for horn and fortepiano represents a cross-section of the music for this combination written in the wake of Beethoven’s op 17 Sonata, premiered in 1800 by the composer and horn virtuoso, Giovanni Punto, and considered the first ever composed for these instruments. The programme, and Anneke Scott’s erudite programme notes, draw fascinating connections between this first horn sonata and the repertoire on the CD. While listeners may well have heard of Ferdinand Ries, represented here by an impressive Grande Sonate, the other three composers – Friedrich Eugen Thürner, Friedrich Starke and Hendrik Coenraad Steup – will be unfamiliar to most. Thürner moved in elevated musical circles, working with the likes of Louis Spohr and his star clarinettist, Simon Hermstedt. Sadly a number of professional setbacks and deteriorating mental health led to his early death in an asylum in 1827. Horn player and composer Friedrich Starke was a close friend of Beethoven’s, also playing the sonata with him, and he draws heavily on the world of the hunting horn calls for his broodingly romantic Adagio and Rondo. Also a pianist, Starke published a method for the “Viennese Piano” in which he explores the various timbres possible using the pedal effects available. Steven Devine’s Fritz Viennese fortepiano of 1815 boasts four pedals and a bassoon knee lever. Finally, Hendrik Coenraad Steup’s links to the Beethoven Sonata are more overt if less direct, in that a note from the composer tells us that the opening six bars recall those of the earlier work. As one of the foremost proponents of period horn today, Anneke Scott provides confident, technically assured and historically informed accounts of this engaging chamber music, and is ably supported by Steven Devine on fortepiano. There is an innate musicality to this pairing, as well as a boldness and flamboyance, which must have been a feature of the original performances of this early repertoire for horn and piano.

D. James Ross

Download the booklet and listen to samples HERE.