Terrestre
Claire Chase
Focus Recordings, FCR 122 DDD

Despite the cover image — Claire Chase, flute on her shoulder, staring directly into the camera — this CD is not all about Chase. It is an exhilarating ride through the music of five “modernist” composers; it is all about the music, which the high-voltage interpretations of Chase and her five equally capable collaborators render incandescent.

The title track, Terrrestre by Kaija Saariaho, moves from twitchy virtuosic bird songs in the opening movement, L’oiseau dansant, to luminous dreaminess in the second, Oiseau, un satellite infime. In both, the contribution of percussionist Nathan Davis must be mentioned.

Franco Donatoni’s Fili (Threads) and Elliott Carter’s Esprit Rude; Esprit Doux are both series of rhythmically erratic conversations, the first between the flute and the piano, played by Jacob Greenberg, the second between flute and clarinet, played by Joshua Rubin, with effortless ease and rhythmic agility equal to Chase’s.

Chase and Greenberg navigate Pierre Boulez’s now classic (ground-breaking at the time — 1946) Sonatine Op.1 with aplomb: it sounds as new as if it had been composed yesterday.

Kai Fujikara’s Glacier for bass flute concludes the CD. Chase plays the bass with exceptional fluidity and a lovely shakuhachi-like sound. The ending, a haunting figure repeated more and more quietly until it disappears, is exquisite.

The superb technique of the performers and their commitment to the “modernist” musical genre give us the opportunity to hear this very difficult music as (I imagine) the composers would want it to sound.

Kagel – Das Konzert; Phantasiestück; Pan
Michael Faust; Sinfonia Finlandia;
Patrick Gallois
Naxos 8.572635

Throughout his life the Argentinean-German composer Mauricio Kagel (1931–2008) explored every aspect of the evolving musical language of his time, including free improvisation, open form, electronic music, music theatre and purely instrumental music. He taught and organized forums for new music and was a masterful conductor of his own works. He also held an exceptional interest in broadcast media, completing several thought-provoking films in the 1960s for German television and producing radio programs of new music. His appearances in Toronto with New Music Concerts are fondly remembered by all who experienced them.

In his later years Kagel’s music took on an aspect one might call “post-modern,” freely incorporating the extended instrumental techniques of the 20th century in a frequently ironic dialogue with traditional musical conventions. These shadows of the hallowed past occur frequently in the late period works on this disc. Kagel’s 1988 Phantasiestück, a quasi-Schumannesque work that devolves from an atonal to a purely diatonic realm, appears in two versions, one for flute and piano with pianist Paulo Alvares and an expanded version with string quartet and two clarinets performed by Michael Faust’s own Ensemble Contrasts conducted by Robert HP Platz. The brief and delightful Pan for piccolo and string quartet (1985) is a pastiche on Papageno’s pan-flute solo from Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte. Das Konzert is a theatrical work that was written at the request of Michael Faust and premiered by the Deutsche Oper am Rhein in 2003 with a dozen performances in Duisburg and Düsseldorf. It is a schizophrenic “anti-concerto” for flute and chamber orchestra expertly performed here by the Sinfonia Finlandia Jyväsklä, sympathetically led by fellow flutist turned conductor Patrick Gallois. This is an entertaining yet thought-provoking disc that repays repeated listening.

Editor’s Note: As a long standing friend of the composer, Canadian flutist Robert Aitken was invited to share the soloist’s role in the creation of Kagel’s Das Konzert, alternating the first performances with Michael Faust and giving the Düsseldorf premiere. Aitken went on to give the world premiere performance of the concert version of the work with Esprit Orchestra in Toronto in January 2004.

Saariaho – Works for Orchestra
Various Orchestras
Ondine ODE1113-2Q

There must be something in the water in Helsinki. For a country of just over five million people, Finland seems to produce a disproportionate amount of musical talents — instrumentalists, vocalists, conductors and composers. Kaija Saariaho is no stranger to Toronto audiences: the COC produced the hauntingly beautiful L’amour de loin this season, along with notable performances by the TSO and Soundstreams.

In a sparsely populated Nordic country, an artist feels connected to nature and light (or the lack thereof). Many of the works on this compilation — Lichtbogen, Solar, Orion, Notes on Light — look to the cosmos, and Saariaho’s writing is starkly beautiful. Her use of electronics is meticulously intertwined and delicately masterful — undoubtedly the result of her time at IRCAM in Paris, and the influence of spectralism pioneers Tristan Murail and Gérard Grisey. But it is the diptych Du cristal and … à la fumée that confirms this composer’s inimitability: as in a crystal, macroscopically the structure seems complete, but upon closer inspection, we see not only detail, but growth. Her polymorphic textures progress like an ethereal sublimation.

Saariaho’s connection to the voice is mesmerizing: she integrates text into her orchestrations in a strikingly unique way. Cinq reflets de “L’amour de loin” revisits the music from the opera, but in her process, she has created a completely new work. Grammaire des rêves sets poems of French Surrealist Paul Éluard (not to be confused with her other great vocal work, From the Grammar of Dreams). The voice is treated as instrument, and the ensemble as voices in a texture that rivals (and perhaps surpasses) the great vocal works of Berio. Of all the fantastic singing, I would be remiss not to mention Mirage, featuring the powerful lyric soprano Karita Mattila, whose luminous sound is more often heard in the world’s leading opera houses.

For me, the highlight of the set is undoubtedly cellist Anssi Karttunen, who lends his acrobatic and nuanced virtuosity to four substantial works. But it is difficult to single out a star player on this Finnish powerhouse team that includes conductors Esa-Pekka Salonen (with the Los Angeles Philharmonic), Jukka-Pekka Saraste (with the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra) and Hannu Lintu (leading the superb Avanti! Chamber Orchestra).

I could say that Saariaho’s orchestral writing fuses the stark grandeur of compatriot Sibelius, with the stratified texture of Stravinsky, with the slowness of process heard in Ligeti — but it would not do her music justice. Over 20 years of music on four discs reveals a distinguished voice in contemporary orchestral writing; I look forward to hearing the next 20. And she is welcome back to Toronto anytime.

Espresso Manifesto –
The Songs of Paolo Conte
Daniela Nardi
Independent MIN004
www.espressomanifesto.com

Paolo Conte is an iconic Italian singer-songwriter whose work epitomizes a certain style and era in European pop culture. Daniela Nardi is a Toronto-based singer who, when searching for a way to pay musical homage to her Italian roots, landed on putting together a collection of Conte’s songs. Covering work by a singer with such a strong male presence as Conte — he’s a little like the Leonard Cohen of Italy — is a challenge for a female singer and Nardi rises to that challenge by finding the universal themes of longing and loss (and gelato!) in his songs. Also, Nardi travelled to Umbria to record the disc with a handful of Italian musicians, which lends an authentic feel. Espresso Manifesto opens with the most well-known of Conte’s tunes Via Con Me (Come Away with Me), a light-hearted plea about giving oneself over to adventure, then moves through a charming but sometimes dark exploration of life and love.

Like the drink manifested here, Nardi’s voice is deep and earthy and singing in Italian brings out her expressiveness. Lyrics and liner notes explaining the songs for the non-Italian speakers are not included with the CD but available on danielanardi.com. So you can read up on each song to understand what it’s all about or you can just let the album wash over you like a seductive Mediterranean wave.

All the Way
Susie Arioli
Spectra Musique SPECD7832
www.susiearioli.com

Susie Arioli and her partner guitarist Jordan Officer have put out another fine collection of songs true to their easy swinging style. Although All The Way opens sombrely with a soulful, slowed down My Funny Valentine it ramps up a bit from there with an ironic, sax-laden Here’s to the Losers and a nod to Ol’ Blue Eyes with the title track and then the subtle emotional roller-coaster continues with the melancholic Forgetful and There’s a Lull in My Life.

Arioli has an understated delivery that’s a refreshing change from the showboating singing we hear so much of. Yet she still convincingly conveys the sentiment of the song and leaves the listener able to focus on the lyrics rather than on how awesome her voice is, or whatever. With the majority of the songs from the 50s and 60s the record is imbued with a Mad Men-esque mood that makes All the Way the ideal soundtrack for the end of a day filled with two-martini meetings, a pack-and-a-half of smokes and bitter disappointment.

One Sunday
Ken Aldcroft; William Parker
Trio Records and Productions
TRP-DS01-014
www.kenaldcroft.com

The performances of prolific Toronto improviser/guitarist/composer Ken Aldcroft and New York City’s double bass great William Parker here leave me speechless. The two improvisers weave a sonic journey through rhythm, colour, melody and ideas that just gets better with each listening.

Both performers utilize their strong jazz roots to foray into spirited uncharted territories. Sweet Beverley, one of two 20 something minute offerings, is a doll of a piece. Its laid back nature sets the mood for a musical conversation on diverse topics. The phrasing is clear and subtle, allowing each intricate idea, whether long or short, to grasp one’s attention. There is a sound surprise around every corner. Also outstanding is the shorter track Zum Schneide, where Parker plays a trombonium [an instrument shaped like a baritone horn including its three valves, but with the bore and tube length dimensions of a tenor trombone]. The opening passage cleverly refers to a classical music fanfare, and then abruptly changes course to slides, runs and garage band noise. It is a fine example of where free improvised music is headed. Parker also performs on shakuhachi on this five track release.

For listeners unaccustomed to the more atonal sense of free improvisation, the music here might be a stretch to understand but worth the patience to experience. Aldcroft and Parker are brilliant masters of their art form — one may not be able to whistle along with the “tunes” but it is the collective sounds of their “in the moment” music creations that resonate so impeccably.

Cut a Caper
Ig Henneman Sextet
Wig 19
www.stichtingwig.com

Negotiating the boundary between noted and improvised music, Europe and Canada, is the all-star sextet of Dutch violist Ig Henneman which can be heard in concert at the Music Gallery June 24. The ten limpid pieces by Henneman which make up this disc are interpreted by a drum-less ensemble whose particularized arrangements and advanced technical requirements suggest contemporary new music. But when Berlin-based trumpeter Axel Dörner gargles altissimo air through his horn or when the violist lets loose with airborne spiccato snatches, the formalism is left aside. As well, there may be canon-like voicing on Moot, but Charles Mingus-like echoes appear on Toe and Heel, while the title tune adds marching band hops to other sound tropes.

Part of this CD’s textural freedom must be ascribed to the alternately metronomic hammering or sly soundboard stretches from Toronto pianist Marilyn Lerner. Upping the CanCon quota is Montreal clarinet and bass clarinettist Lori Freedman, although pinpointing which bracing chalumeau snorts or altissimo split tone squeals arise from her horns rather than the clarinet of Amsterdam’s Ab Baars, who also exposes liquid tenor saxophone runs and narrowed shakuhachi puffs, is nearly impossible. Fellow Netherlander Wilbert De Joode holds the disparate sections together with steel-fingered string slaps that at points expand the polyphony with braced sul tasto or col legno slides.

Beside Cut a Caper, where Lerner’s percussive echoes could as easily fit a performance of Morton Feldman as Mingus, another stand-out track is Narration. With a post-modern novel’s nonlinear form, this narration meanders among sections that highlight glottal echoes from the trumpeter, knife-sharp plucks from the violist, horns harmonized until their tones splinter into tongue slaps or intense trilling plus the bassist’s assured pedal-point ostinato.

With A Meadow in December (www.larasolnicki.com) Toronto singer Lara Solnicki has crafted an unusually compelling debut, avoiding all of the usual pitfalls. Solnicki isn’t an aggressive improviser — there’s no scatting here and she doesn’t take great liberties with melodies. What she does do is focus on lyric, sound and rhythmic insinuation, investing 11 jewels from the Great American Songbook with her own personality. Her classical training is immediately evident and she has a poet’s ear for nuance. She’s fine at up-tempos, but it’s the ballads that are most memorable, as Solnicki tackles challenging fare like Lazy Afternoon, creating a dream-like state with subtle shifts in pitch, all aided by the haze of Michael Davidson’s vibraphone and Ted Quinlan’s guitar. The concluding Softly as in a Morning Sunrise is almost as good — it may be the first time I ever noticed the lyrics. Solnicki is aided throughout by a stellar cast, including Pat LaBarbera, a tenor saxophonist of great lyricism.

Montreal-based saxophonist Joel Miller doesn’t over-record. After a flurry of CDs early in his career, Swim (Origin 82613) is just his second recording as leader since 2004’s superb Mandala. It’s well worth the wait, for Miller is an outstanding tenor player, gracing the modern mainstream with a light touch, fleetly evanescent lines, and a shimmering, metallic sound that can hint at Stan Getz, John Coltrane or Charles Lloyd. That playing is strongly foregrounded here, with Miller backed by the sturdy rhythm team of bassist Fraser Hollins and drummer Greg Ritchie. Geoffrey Keezer, though, provides far more than solid support. He’s an explosive, virtuoso pianist — his solos sometimes burst into two-handed inventions — who matches Miller’s playful precision at very fast tempos, as on the brief Step into My Office.

Another Montreal reed player, Jean Derome is best known for more experimental projects, but his explorations of jazz traditions are imbued with both passion and joy. Trio Derome Guilbeault Tanguay with bassist Normand Guilbeault and drummer Pierre Tanguay is a stripped-down machine for maximum propulsion. On Danse a l’Anvers (Ambience Magnétiques AM 205 CD) they mix Derome originals with a series of tunes by iconic jazz figures — among them Duke Ellington and Roland Kirk. Derome is fluently brilliant everywhere here, whether he’s playing funky baritone saxophone on his own Half-way House, flying brilliantly on flute and alto respectively on Eric Dolphy’s demanding 17 West and Straight Up and Down, or singing enthusiastically on Billy Strayhorn’s I’m Checkin’ Out, Goom-Bye. Veterans of this minimalist format, Guilbeault and Tanguay are forceful, inventive presences, creating waves of energy as well as distinguished solos.

Recently emerging on the vigorous Latin jazz scene in Toronto’s West-end, Roland Hunter is a guitarist of taste and rhythmic acumen. On Toronteros (www.rolandhunter.com) he immediately invokes the great Jim Hall, with whom he’s studied, showing something of the same warm sound, harmonic insight and melodic reserve. It’s a spare style that dances readily over Latin rhythms. You catch the effect especially in the truncated phrases and use of harmonics on the title track, while Hunter’s melodic invention shines on Wayne Shorter’s Infant Eyes. Pianist Ali Berkok is a consistent complement, soloing as well with aplomb, while bassist Paco Luviano, drummer Mario Allende and conguero Jalidan Ruiz create a dense polyrhythmic foundation. While it’s often a relief to hear a CD that settles for the old 40-minute LP length, Toronteros presses the virtue of brevity, coming in at a shade under 30 minutes.

Guitarist Avi Granite, originally from Toronto, has been resident in New York since 2009, becoming a significant member of the intensely creative current Brooklyn scene. His group Avi Granite’s Verse is heard to fine effect on Snow Umbrellas (Pet Mantis Records PMR008), with Granite’s compositions ranging from song-like effusion to knotty kernels of possibility. The group — trumpeter Ralph Alessi, bassist Jerry Devore and drummer Owen Howard — has a distinct personality, a transparency in which bass and drums are as prominent in the mix as guitar and trumpet, and there’s a sense of group dialogue around rhythm, a constant weave of ricocheting short phrases. It’s a genuinely contemporary sound, moving from pensive introspection to moments of wonder, whether it’s Granite’s glassy, sparkling lines bubbling up through the mix or Alessi’s sudden spears of sonic colour.

Ottawa trumpeter Craig Pedersen openly acknowledges the inspirations for his quartet, mentioning John Zorn, the AACM, Ornette Coleman and Duke Ellington. Listening to Days Like Today (www.craig­pedersen.com), I’d opt for the original Coleman group, Pedersen’s band of trumpet, alto saxophone, bass and drums favouring expressive intensity and strong rhythms. The parallel is clearest on pieces like Little Bird, which sways to a Tex-Mex rhythm, but there’s more to Pedersen than just influences. The Baron (an allusion to Charles Mingus?) has a muted trumpet sound that harkens all the way back to the 1920s, while Points from Centre is a blast of overblown trumpet and drum thrashing that dramatically pushes the envelope. They’re all part of Pedersen’s methodological spectrum. The group empathy and first-rate performances by saxophonist Linsey Wellman, bassist Joel Kerr and drummer Mike Essoudry testify to the quality of the Ottawa free-jazz community.

Solo playing has always been the make-or-break yardstick for pianists of any genre. That’s solo playing not playing solo, an important distinction which differentiates between exhibiting showy breaks and having an overall musical plan for the mini-orchestra that is at his or her fingertips. The solo challenge is more pronounced for improvisers since even if they’re interpreting compositions, originality is the paramount concern. These challenges don’t prevent pianists from trying their hands at solo sessions. But it’s instructive to note that the memorable ones, such as the piano dates here by an American, a Canadian, a Catalan and a Russian, use different strategies to attain matchless quality.

Agustí Fernández’s El laberint de la memòria (Mbari Musica MBARI 04 www.mbari­musica.com) is the closest to what many expect from a solo recital. That’s because the Barcelona-based pianist, best-known for his improvisational work with experimenters such as bassist Barry Guy, based the 14 ruminations which make up this program on 20th century Spanish so-called classical music. The originality results because Fernández doesn’t play any of that music but instead offers interpretations birthed from careful, repeated listening to many of those compositions. Fernández’s magisterial elucidations include such chamber music staples as subtle dynamic shifts and exposing waterfalls of carefully positioned notes, but he isn’t limited to flourishes. A kinetic piece such as Catedral for instance may have metronomic theme elaboration, but his touch is such that soundboard echoes continue to ring long after syncopated octaves flash and flow. More moderated tunes such as Tonada which melodically echo both Hatikvah and Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child use both strains to never slip into bathos while sustaining a delicate interface. Balanced precisely, L’esmoldor not only proffers a baroque-like series of gentle key strokes, but contrasts them with kalimba-like string strokes. Also for every bouncing theme exposition or instance of breezy swing, Fernández brings a tougher stance to other tracks — or as contrast on the same ones. For instance his measured, mandolin-like strums on unwound treble strings during Pluja Sorda are coupled with repeated key slaps, with the narrative becoming more staccato as sympathetic rattles and rumbles move past the strings and soundboard and begin reflecting the timbres from key-frame wood.

Another sophisticated piano explorer is Calgary-born Kris Davis, whose musical studies in Toronto led to a New York career working with the likes of saxophonist Tony Malaby. On Aeriol Piano (Clean Feed CF 233 CD www.cleanfeed-records.com) she delves into the instrument which can simultaneously express the qualities of a harp and percussion. She can do so at near-warp speed as she demonstrates on Good Citizen where high-frequency glissandi skip and slither across the keyboard until dynamic tremolos give way to hesitant plinks that could be recasting Chopsticks. She also plays at moderate tempos as on A Different Kind of Sleep, where tones unroll with taffy pull-like slowness as lower-pitched harmonies sympathetically ring. Mallet-teased strings dominate the exposition of Saturn Returns, working up to a broken-octave confrontation among internal string pops, wooden exterior slaps and stopped keyboard pulses. Her technique isn’t all reductionist though as she demonstrates on the first track which backs away from repeated flourishes and affiliated note exaggerations to reveal a balladic recasting of All the Things You Are.

Fernández’s and Davis’ under-the-hood, speaking-length explorations are taken to a logical extreme on Double Zero (Porter Records PRCD-4063 www.porterrecords.com). Inspired equally by the music of Conlon Nancarrow, Ornette Coleman, Henry Cowell and Thelonious Monk, New York state resident Denman Maroney uses temporal harmony on what he calls a “hyperpiano” to produce a keyboard program in several tempos at once. The instrument’s strings are plucked, slapped and bowed after being prepared with copper bars, steel cylinders, Tibetan prayer bowls and rubber blocks. From the first literal discord heard on this nine-part suite, the crackling friction exposed insinuates harpsichord and Celtic harp quivers, as well as kalimba and guzheng reverberations plus suggestions of a metal saw. Still his subtle keyboard phrasing on tracks such as Double Zero Part II confirms that it’s a piano which is the major sound source. This program reaches its climax on Double Zero Part VI where Maroney`s arpeggio-rich continuum that’s almost impressionistic in its exposition unfolds alongside low-pitched, tremolo blows on the prepared strings abrasive enough to sound partials and extensions as well as root tones, involving the back frame, bottom board and capotes bar as much as the speaking length. Finally a series of sweeping glissandi are backed by cymbal-like reverberations for the finale. Elsewhere his staccato touch implies a duet between a portable keyboard and an all-metal double bass, although there are still enough cascades and pitch-sliding polytones audible that the pianistic balance is never subsumed by friction-laden clips or excited string patterns.

A disparate but even more demanding approach to solo playing is displayed brilliantly on Spinning Songs of Herbie Nichols (Leo Records CD LR 632 www.leorecords.com). Unaccompanied and only using the instrument’s accepted range and properties, Simon Nabatov creates original takes on eight compositions by under-appreciated American pianist/composer Herbie Nichols (1919-1963). Although the scholarly, sporadically-recorded Nichols was Bronx born of Trinidadian parents and never lived anywhere but New York, Nabatov’s position as an outsider allows him to bring more than technical skills to a rethink of Nichols’ tunes. Russian-born and educated, Nabatov lived in New York for a decade and now resides in Köln. Closer to the European tradition than the composer, who admired Prokofiev, Nabatov’s approach often slows down the originals, introducing his own harmonic language to the late composer’s running chords and subtle swing. Hear this on a stately elaboration of The Third World. Persuasively elaborating Nichols’ polyphony with hard syncopation and popping stops, the pianist’s take is both chromatic and creative. Similarly his jocular version of Terpsichore contains enough showy glissandi to advance the juddering melody in different tempos, while the sprinkling of staccato pumps overlaid with harsh passing chords creates a recurring syncopation that builds excitement like the repeated coda on Count Basie’s April in Paris. The most profound example of the ingenuity implicit in Nichols’ writing and Nabatov’s playing occurs with Blue Chopsticks. Pushing the composer’s kinetic variant of the amateur pianist’s hoary chestnut even further out, Nabatov never loses the groove. Yet with staccato extrusions and discursive glissandi he’s able to simultaneously reflect the original line, Nichols’ rearrangement and his own variation on the theme.

Judging by these CDs, and how different each sounds, there appears to be as many original methods to treat solo piano playing as there are piano keys and strings.

Well once again in my zealous desire to make a dent in the backlog of wonderful new releases received I have assigned too many titles to our reviewers and left insufficient space for my own musings. So I will simply take this opportunity to welcome jazz columnist Stuart Broomer to these pages. Since Geoff Chapman’s retirement from “It’s Our Jazz” some months ago we have been falling behind on news from the local scene and I am very pleased that Broomer has agreed to come on board to address the issue. He’s written about music for The Globe and Mail, Toronto Life and numerous specialist publications, among them Cadence, DownBeat, Musicworks, New York City Jazz Record, Paris Transatlantic and Signal to Noise. Broomer’s book Time and Anthony Braxton appeared in 2009 from Mercury Press and his column “Ezz-thetics” appears regularly at www.pointofdeparture.org. His liner essays have appeared on CDs by musicians from over 20 countries and he is a former editor of Coda: The Journal of Jazz and Improvised Music. This month marks the inauguration of his WholeNote column “Jazz, eh?” and I think you will agree that it is a welcome addition.

We welcome your feedback and invite submissions. CDs and comments should be sent to: The WholeNote, 503–720 Bathurst St., Toronto ON M5S 2R4. We also encourage you to visit our website thewholenote.com where you can find added features including direct links to performers, composers and record labels, “buy buttons” for online shopping and additional, expanded and archival reviews. 

—David Olds, DISCoveries Editor, discoveries@thewholenote.com

The Reich’s Orchestra:
The Berlin Philharmonic 1933–45
by Misha Aster
Mosaic Press
286 pages, photos; $27.95

In 1944 British warplanes bombed the Berlin Philharmonic’s home, destroying instruments, archives and music along with their beautiful concert hall. But still they managed to keep performing and even touring — right up until the day when, as Misha Aster writes, “The Third Reich’s demise cut the 1944–1945 Philharmonische Konzerte series drastically short.”

There were many factors involved in the orchestra’s remarkable survival under the Third Reich, not least the determination of the musicians themselves. But in this study of the orchestra during that period Aster pinpoints the main reason right in his title — it became the Reich’s orchestra.

With his exhaustive research in archives and obscure private collections, Aster traces how the orchestra, facing bankruptcy in 1933, went from being a self-governing, independent collective to a symbol of the Nazi regime. It was clearly a matter of compromise rather than political commitment. Its principal conductor at the time of the deal, the celebrated Wilhelm Furtwängler, never joined the Nazi party (unlike their long-serving post-war chief conductor, Herbert von Karajan). But once it was run directly by the Nazis, with Joseph Goebbels, Hitler’s propaganda minister, as boss, it now functioned as an “instrument of cultural propaganda.” Duties included performing for Hitler’s birthday celebrations.

Soon enough, the orchestra was purged of Jewish performers, including its prized concertmaster Szymon Goldberg. Jewish patrons were prohibited from attending concerts, and Jewish composers like Mendelssohn and Mahler were removed from the repertoire. But Furtwängler’s indignant resignation from the orchestra in 1934 — temporary, as it turned out — was sparked by the Nazis’ political interference in artistic affairs, in this case a choice of repertoire, rather than direct opposition to their policies.

Aster is a Canadian historian living in Berlin. His book was originally published in German, and too many traces of that still remain. Terms and concepts are left in their original German, and translated only on their initial mention, if at all. Nor are they included in the sparse index, or provided with a separate glossary. Similarly with the numerous acronyms — I couldn’t keep them straight. And many passages quoted in the text and the comprehensive footnotes are left untranslated from their original German and French.

But Aster’s thorough, systematic research pays off again and again throughout this book. His straightforward style proves ideal for uncovering the ambiguities of the orchestra’s situation, especially when, in the final chapter, he analyzes how it all adds up. After the war, the orchestra had to answer for its recent past and redesign itself. It did so by building on its strongest assets, “its collective combative spirit and the group’s shrewd political judgement.” These were the very qualities that had ensured its survival during the Third Reich, as Aster shows so well.

Concert Note (for 2012/13 season): The Philharmonia Quartett Berlin, made up of members of the Berlin Philharmonic, performs at the St. Lawrence Centre on October 11, 2012, at 8pm, for Music Toronto.

blow your OWN horn –
horn heresies: an anti horn-method method
by Fergus McWilliam
Mosaic Press
172 pages, illustrations; $21.95

Fergus McWilliam has played French horn with the Berlin Philharmonic for 27 years. It’s a wealth of experience he shares here in what he calls his “anti-horn method.” Right near the beginning he issues a warning, “If you believe that one first needs to acquire sufficient technique before attempting to make music, then this is not for you. Yours is still a flat earth.” The point he continually makes is that technique should not be separated from making music. “It is musical playing which fosters, nourishes and ultimately builds good technique. Musical playing not only requires, but actually encourages and improves technique.” Presumably that’s one of the “horn heresies” he refers to in his title.

But McWilliam is equally impatient with players who call themselves musicians first, hornists (as he refers to French horn players) second. This is not, it turns out, a contradiction of his emphasis on dealing with technical issues within the context of the music — rather, it seems to be a declaration of his passion for the sound of his instrument, “unique and idiosyncratic” as it is. “Which musical instrument,” he asks, “can rival the horn’s sound for sheer sonic impact?” He tells about first falling in love with the sound of the horn as a kid. And so he issues another warning, “We imperil ourselves if we fail to produce a viscerally exciting sound, irrespective of how wonderful our phrasing may be.” To prove the instrument’s “nearly unmatched potential for emotionally expressive power,” he mentions the horn’s single note that opens the final movement of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony.

Though McWilliam was born in Scotland, he grew up in Canada and graduated from the University of Toronto’s music faculty. Canada is where he began his performing and teaching career. In fact, it was McWilliam who arranged for the Canadian Opera Company to obtain its set of Wagner tubas for its Ring cycle. How odd then that the biography of McWilliam in this book mentions nothing about his relationship to Canada — even though it is published in Canada.

Even for those who have no intentions whatsoever of ever trying to play what McWilliam lovingly calls this “famously difficult instrument,” this book is rewarding on many levels. McWilliam offers insights not just into horn-playing, but into all aspects of performing (and by extension, listening to) an instrument. Enough of McWilliam’s engaging personality comes through to make me hope his next will be a memoir.

For some time now, Toshiba EMI has been remastering existing stereo recordings from EMI into SACD s that have been the buzz in audiophile circles around the world, in spite of the very high price tag. More expensive yet are the SACD re-masters processed and marketed by Esoteric, selling for around $75 a disc. Both companies do their conversions in Japan from the “master tapes” owned by EMI, Decca and Sony. EMI has the real masters in its Abbey Road Studios in London and utilizes EMI technology for the High Definition Sound reissue series. The process consists of painstakingly comparing the original analog productions to determine the correct equalization and play-back curves to ensure a truthful realization of the original sound of the analog originals. This multi-step process is described in the notes that are bound into individual hard cover art books into which the discs and original production documents, in full colour, are reproduced. They are distributed by EMI Canada and sell for domestic prices. So far, there is no duplication of albums. With one exception the discs are stereo hybrid SACD/CDs. I was intrigued by the concept of an SACD version of an original monaural recording, in this case the famous Debussy’s Complete Piano Works played by Walter Gieseking (509999 559172, 4 discs). Although it should not have been, what I heard was a complete surprise. From between the speakers came the familiar sound of Gieseking’s piano, as fresh as it was when he recorded these works in Abbey Road’s Studio 3 between 1951 and 1954 when he was acknowledged as the supreme interpreter of Debussy’s piano works. It was a thorn in the French psyche that a German pianist eclipsed their own as the great Debussy interpreter. How appropriate that these treasured performances are included in this first release of the new reissues.

Bruckner’s Eighth and Ninth Symphonies are heard in recordings from 1963 and 1961 with Carl Schuricht conducting the Vienna Philharmonic, recorded in the Musikverein (509999 559842, 2 discs). Schuricht was a consummate Bruckner conductor long before the composer became fashionable, amply demonstrated in these two powerful readings.

It has been a few years since I heard the following symphonies under the baton of Otto Klemperer and I had remembered them as, well, a little stodgy. Mozart: The Last Six Symphonies with the Philharmonia and the New Philharmonia (509999 559322, 3 discs) and Mendelssohn’s Third and Fourth Symphonies plus Schumann’s Fourth Symphony with the Philharmonia (509999 559102, 2 discs). Mozart’s scores might seem to be weighed down by a modern orchestra but that was the fashion until recently. Klemperer hears it the “old” way and, in fact, makes a reasonably good case for the practice. The Mendelssohns are well sprung and the Schumann is quite convincing. The recorded sound is true to the originals … only cleaner.

This first release would not be complete without Jacqueline du Pré’s most famous recording, the Elgar Cello Concerto under the direction of Sir John Barbirolli who also conducts Elgar’s often sublime song cycle, Sea Pictures with Janet Baker at her very best (509999 559052, 2 discs). The second disc is all Delius; the Cello Concerto with du Pré, Songs of Farewell and A Song Before Sunrise all conducted by Sir Malcolm Sargent. The disc is a treasure that should be gracing every collection.

Sviatoslav Richter plays piano concertos by Dvorˇák, Grieg and Schumann conducted by Carlos Kleiber (Dvořák) and Lovro von Matacic. Here is Richter in his prime (1976 and 1974) and the emerging Carlos Kleiber yet to hit the big time (509999 559892, 2 discs). Powerhouse performances from Richter in all three with matching support from his conductors.

Pianist Georges Cziffra truly was a legend in his own lifetime. He was simply untouchable in Liszt’s keyboard extravaganzas and EMI recorded him extensively including the 12 Transcendental Etudes and the complete Hungarian Rhapsodies, in addition to The Mephisto Waltz No.1 and Gnomenreigen. Recorded between 1957 and 1975 in the Salle Wagram, Paris, assembling and issuing them in this series was a stroke of genius (509999 55962 2, 3 discs).

Giuseppe di Stefano sounds very fresh singing 33 Neapolitan Songs, recorded in Milan in 1953 and 1961 (509999 55926 2, 2 discs).

In his early years, could any singer top the late Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau in Schubert Lieder? Every month, music lovers everywhere looked for new releases. He was incomparable. Selected recordings from 1955 through 1959 appear on an invaluable collection, newly prepared for this series (509999 559692, 4 discs).

And one more: the Beethoven Triple Concerto with David Oistrakh, Mstislav Rostropovich and Sviatoslav Richter conducted by von Karajan in Berlin plus, from Cleveland, George Szell conducting Oistrakh and Rostropovich in the Brahms Violin Concerto and Double Concerto (509999 55978 2, 2 discs).

These reissues are a perfect example of the art that conceals the art, as there is absolutely no evidence that there have been adjustments in the sound of the originals. Maybe their motto is Do No Harm.

Complete recordings of Gotterdammerung on LP date back to a special performance centred around the renowned, now legendary, soprano Kirsten Flagstad who had been the Wagnerian soprano, recognized in opera houses around the globe. This was a concert production intended as a farewell performance recorded in the studios of Norwegian Radio, the missing passages being recorded two months later and a virtually complete version prepared for commercial release by Decca. Set Svanholm is the Siegfried with an impressive Egil Nordsjø as Hagen, supported by a first class cast with the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra, the Norwegian State Radio Orchestra and a studio chorus all conducted by Øivin Fjelstad. Naxos has thankfully returned it to the catalogue in a newly restored four CD set (8.112066-69). This is a full-scale production with much to offer and little or nothing to complain about. In crystal-clear, distortion-free monaural sound with fine presence and ample dynamics, this is a full-blooded realization of the closing chapter of Wagner’s ultimate music drama, the ever fascinating, incomparable Ring cycle.

Product of musical miscegenation, jazz has always been most welcome to sound influences. Meanwhile, much of so-called ethnic music, especially from non-Western countries, features some variants of improvisation. Blending the freedom of jazz with aleatory additions from other cultures produces provocative sounds as these CDs attest. Yet all are noteworthy because, rather than using either music as mere exotica or rhythmic overlay, each is performed with the same respect.

Indian-American alto saxophonist Rudresh Mahanthappa has dealt with his dual heritage before, but on Samdhi (ACT Music 9513-2 www.actmusic.com), recorded just after he had attended an intensive two and a half week Carnatic music festival in India, it is upfront with the inclusion of the mridangam and kanjira drum playing of “Anad” Anantha Krishnan. Not willing to settle for mere Indo-Jazz lines, Mahanthappa also recruited guitarist David Gilmore and drummer Damion Reid plus Toronto electric bassist Rich Brown to lay down the sort of funk-inflected licks they would bring to a jazz-rock session. The most emblematic example of this is simply titled Ahhh. On the surface it sounds like a folksy tune with Mahanthappa’s saxophone taking the singer’s role. Yet beneath the folksiness Krishnan is pumping and double tapping as if he was on a Mumbai-recorded session, while at mid-point Gilmore and Brown churn double-timed licks as if preparing for an R&B gig. Meantime Mahanthappa’s reed line echoes as if he’s playing with a varitone attachment. Still the arrangement here is traditional enough to include a recapped head. A similar strategy is used on Killer, but there sax timbres reflect both jazzy slurs and a snake-charmer’s flute’s quivers. Overall the feature includes echoing vamps from Gilmore and Brown, heavy bashing from Reid and some shuddering frame-drum licks. With other tracks ranging from the mid-tempo ballad For all the Ladies, that includes delicate finger-style licks from Gilmore mixed with Carnatic beats, to Breakfastlunchanddinner suggesting what avant saxophonist Ornette Coleman would sound like if he played in a session built on powerful drum pops and twanging guitar runs, the sonic permutations and innovations of this CD are nearly limitless.

So too are the polyphonic textures expressed by Iraqi-American trumpeter Amir ElSaffar’s Two Rivers Ensemble in a suite inspired by the ancient Mesopotamian god of carnal love and warfare that is Inana (PI Pi41 www.pirecordings.com). Mahanthappa was initially a member of this ensemble but has been replaced by saxophonist Ole Mathisen. ElSaffer, who studied Mangam vocalizing and playing the santour or hammered dulcimer in Iraq, utilizes Middle Eastern currents alongside his microtonal trumpet skills. The sextet is filled out by bassist Carlo DeRosa and drummer Nasheet Waits plus two experts in Arabic modal scales: oudist/percussionist Zafer Tawil and Tareq Abboushi who plays buzuq or fretted lute. Throughout, Mesopotamian rhythms jostle against Balkan horn patterns, co-existing next to double bass slaps and percussion backbeats. Thus lockstep Europeanized harmonies often abut frenetic cadenzas from the soloists. Yet even at their most “ethnic,” Abboushi’s rasgueado string movements coupled with Mathisen’s multiphonic slurs could still be those of saxophonist John Coltrane working with guitarist Wes Montgomery. Furthermore, ElSaffar’s capillary blowing ranges from heraldic to hushed, with contrapuntal explorations reflecting Miles Davis’ experiments with modes and frequently seconded by bass-string pops and drum kit colouring. Note the allusions when a track such as Inana’s Dance (I, II, III) is contrasted with the extended Journey to the Underworld. On the former as free-form percussion ratamacues mix it up with layered horn notes, the tremolo trumpet slurs have more to do with New Orleans than New Babylon, while Abboushi could be strumming a Dixieland tenor banjo. Meanwhile the bassist walks as the different sections evolve parallel to one another. Journey to the Underworld, on the other, hand begins and ends with keening vocalization from ElSaffar that evolves to melismatic yodeling, with dumbek crunches, kinetic strumming and Arabic-sounding reed accompaniment. However the middle section balances on off-centre thump bass, rolls and rim shots from Waits, contrapuntal trills from Mathisen and sharper retorts from the trumpeter.

These discs involve Westerners coming to terms with their dynastic roots, but Baro 101 (Terp Records AIS-19 www.terprecords.nl) follows a different path. Named for the Addis Ababa hotel room in which it was recorded, Baro 101 captures a jam session among free jazz improvisers, Swedish baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson and Norwegian drummer Paal Nilssen-Love who were performing in Ethiopia, and local Mesele Asmamaw, who plays the pentatonic scale-tuned krar or six-stringed bowl-shaped lyre. Asmamaw creates licks that could be attributed to guitar, mandolin, banjo, steel guitar or string bass and the Europeans surmise different strategies to complement each twang. Gustafsson’s bulky snorts, resonating tongue slaps and subterranean burbles usually dominate the tunes’ percussive base. This leaves Nilssen-Love free to use everything from cross sticking to bass-drum clobbering as polyrhythmic responses to Asmamaw’s multi-string forays. Nephritic cries from the reedist merely deepen the creative tension. Alternately, when he’s fully in the moment, Asmamaw vocalizes in high-pitched Amharic, accompanying himself with rapid frailing. It’s likely the Arabic lilt that appears in Gustafsson’s riffs is purely illusionary. Yet his vamping counterpoint can be related to Scottish or Iberian bagpipe vibrations the same way that Asmamaw’s percussive finger-picking simulates a banjoist’s claw-hammer picking or a mandolinist’s rapid chromatic runs. Eventually, after many crescendos of saxophone tongue stops and altissimo slurs, steady backbeat or gliding stick pressure on the drums plus string patterns that use a wah-wah pedal as well as straight strumming, the three reach a satisfying climax of chromatic snaps, pops and plucks.

Alone, but not quite solo, Brampton’s David Sait produces a unique take on mixing ethnic sounds with improv on History Ship (Apprise Records AP-05 www.guzheng.co). Although he plays a 21-string Chinese guzheng or plucked, half-tube zither with movable bridges, Sait uses arbitrary tuning to produce alternative intonation that alters the expected timbres of an instrument whose antecedent was developed about 220 B.C. As the CD progresses, the results are simultaneously deconstructed and cacophonous. Plus he adds samples of echoing voice to further counter any tendency towards the harmonious. By the time The Bells of Ischgl arrives, Sait’s improvising resembles that of two tandem guitarists, one whose crunching runs are bluesy and the other whose slurred fingering layers tone extensions on top of individual plucked notes. Processed samples, introduced here and on the concluding Wood Stack Rockslide Avalanche make the sequences dissonant, inchoate and fascinating. Creating additional percussion sounds by hand hammering the strings, while elongating glissandi so they judder as much as they skim, Sait formulates oscillations that should come from electronics but are created acoustically. Similarly, bent notes alongside distorted flat picking coupled with sampled drum smacks create a bottom for his experiments. Decisively he isolates the occasional harp-like arpeggio so that the buzzing interface plus abrasive wood patterning don’t completely obliterate string characteristics.

Using an ancient ethnic instrument for 21st-century improvising, Sait creates a soundfield well worth exploring, as do the other CDs here, which bend and blend traditional non-Western music with free-form improvisation.

Bach – St. John Passion
Choir of King’s College,Cambridge; Stephen Cleobury
Brilliant Classics 94316

Bach – St. John Passion
Bach Choir of Bethlehem; Bach Festival Orchestra; Greg Funfgeld
Analekta AN 2 9890-1

J.S. Bach’s sacred works for soloists, choir and orchestra are all mind-bogglingly wonderful, so to be appointed the task of considering these two excellent performances of his St. John Passion was a true Easter treat. The first is a new release from the Bach Choir of Bethlehem (Pennsylvania), the second a re-issue of a 1995 release featuring the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge. Both choirs have a venerable history: the Bethlehem group was the first Bach Choir founded in the USA (in 1891) and gave that country’s premiere performance of Bach’s B Minor Mass in 1900; and the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge, has been one of England’s premiere choral groups for eons. The BCB is partnered in this recording project by their own Bach Festival Orchestra, playing on modern instruments, while the CKCC is accompanied by the Brandenburg Consort on period instruments.

The soloists on both recordings are all outstanding. Though all the wonderful singers in the CKCC reissue are now no longer on the regular soloist “circuit,” the combined cast listings read like a partial “Who’s Who” of the baroque scene. Of special note in the BCB performance is Charles Daniels who, as always, bestows his consummate clarity, intelligence and expressiveness upon the role of the Evangelist. The other soloists are also excellent, particularly soprano Julia Doyle who imbues “Ich forge Dir gleichfalls” with the perfect blend of delight and innocence. With the CKCC, John Mark Ainsley also sings a very fine Evangelist, and hearing the voices of Paul Agnew, Stephen Varco and Catherine Bott makes for a cheerful trip down memory lane.

Both choirs sing with impeccable ensemble and depth of expression; the Bethlehem group in particular sounds truly congregational in the chorales, a very welcome quality. The orchestral playing in both is first-class, with refined expressiveness, clarity and attention to detail, and the continuo group players in both are equally top-notch. While the thoughtful playing of the Brandenburg Consort on period instruments is a little more to my own taste, the Bach Festival Orchestra players play elegantly, adopting “historically informed” influence with skill and flexibility. Kudos to all involved in these two excellent recordings.