Adding another voice to an established improvising ensemble is more precarious than it seems. With a group having worked out strategies allowing for individual expression within a larger context— and without notated cues— the visitor(s) must be original without unbalancing the interface. Luckily the sessions here demonstrate successful applications.

Invited to Rimouski, Quebec to give a workshop, British saxophonist Evan Parker also participated in Vivaces (Tour de Bras TDB9006 CD www.tourdebras.com), recorded with the 12-piece Grand Groupe Régional d’Improvisation Libéréeor Le GGRIL. Made up of players from different musical backgrounds living in the Lower Saint-Lawrence region, GGRIL is distinctive in that the group includes two electric guitarists, an electric bassist plus two accordionists, but only three horn players. Using these circumstances to best advantage, these tracks, alternately directed by Parker and GGRIL violinist Raphaël Arsensault, employ the accordionists’ tremolo pulsing and sweeping electronic oscillations to thicken the bottom. With upturned slices from the strings and barnyard cries from the squeeze boxes, two clarinets and the tuba, it’s often Parker’s restrained undertone that gives a linear shape to the improvisation. The best example of this is Marcottagethat manages to include contributions from nearly every GGRILer. As Parker pushes forward with staccato split tones he’s backed by sympathetic grace notes from fellow guest, trombonist Scott Thomson, and skittering, slurring accordion lines. Triangle pings signal a timbral shift and presage a ferocious solo from the saxophonist. Band members’ responses range from rebounding percussion ratamacues, crackling electronic runs from the guitars and bass plus one accordionist sounding a faux balladic line as the other pumps powerfully. Finally the mass cacophony downshifts to a satisfying connective rumble.

The London Improvisers Orchestra (LIO) deals with similar situations during a recital on Lio Leo Leon (psi 11.04 www.emanemdisc.com/psi.html) where group improvisations are supplemented by two specific concertos. Conducted by guitarist Dave Tucker, Concerto for Ishmael Wadada Leo Smith & Orchestra features veteran American trumpeter Smith, who has been involved in similar situations since the mid-1960s. The other, Concerto for soft-loud key-box No.2, is conducted by pianist Steve Beresford and designed for pianist Leon Michener, who is comfortable with both improvised and notated music. Mostly concerned with textural melding and displacement, the 38-piece LIO makes maximum use of counterpoint. Some tracks depend on harmonies among stringed instruments; others mate kettle drum smacks with light flute puffs; most climax as passing tones coalesce into linear narratives.

More cacophonous then the LIO with a mere 21 members, Amsterdam’s Royal Improvisers Orchestra (RIO) actually find a more cohesive direction on His Composition, the track on Live at the Bimhuis (Riot Impro 01 www.royalimprovisersorchestra.com) featuring veteran Dutch drummer Han Bennink. Encompassing as many of The Netherlands’ top improvisers as the LIO does the United Kingdom’s, the RIO is commandingly inventive throughout. Still, the resulting Klangfarbenmelodie often sounds as if every player wants to be heard – no matter what. Thus an extended throaty tenor saxophone solo evolves beside burping bassoon lines plus low-pitched flute blowing. Electronics crackle in-and-out of the sequences as the RIO’s two guitarists produce distorted licks. The contrast between thematic material and free-form interjections is made sonically murkier when two female vocalists yowl inhumanly or scat-sing rhythmically. Using distinctive brush work which has powered many an ensemble over the past 50 years, Bennink introduces a variation of easy-going swing on his track, while leaving plenty of space for avant touches, including descending slides from the four string players; galloping tremolo from the pianist and some impressive flutter-tonguing from saxophonists John Dikeman and Yedo Gibson. At the same time Bennink’s contributions indicate performance shifts and lead the band to a crescendo that also serves as a satisfying finale.

The situation on ETO (Libra Records 215-029 www.librarecords.com) is a little different, since it’s pianist Satoko Fujii and her husband, trumpeter Natsuki Tamura who are the outsiders with her Orchestra New York. Fujii, who also leads Japanese bands, frequently assembles this 15-strong collection of some of Manhattan’s first-call musicians to play her compositions. Here, the pianist has written a suite in honour of Tamura’s 60th birthday, with soloists celebrating 12 animals in the zodiac. Along the line of Duke Ellington’s musical cameos such as Concerto for Cootie, and Self Portrait (of the Bean), her arrangements for these anthropomorphic showcases depend on subtle harmonization of the orchestra’s alternately swinging and sympathetic backing to frame the soloists. Among the stand-outs are Ox, where Joey Sellers’ loose-limbed, mid-range trombone floats on orchestral pulsations; drummer Aaron Alexander’s percussive drum backbeat alongside Oscar Noriega’s liquid alto saxophone licks on Ram; and subsequent trumpet solos from Frank London and Herb Robertson on Monkey and Rooster respectively which in the first instance mate hand-muted plunger work with an infectious staccato theme played by Fujii; and on the other use reed riffs to highlight Robertson’s mixture of half-valve effects and pure blowing. Not to be outdone, on Snake the birthday boy follows a more experimental strategy, with double-tongued growls and subterranean guffaws. But his solo is still aligned with the bouncy contrapuntal melody.

            Tamura’s and Fujii’s subtly connecting additions to an existing band plan demonstrate how novel conceptions can fit in with those from an existing improvising ensemble. Parker, Bennink, Smith and Michener do the same on the other fine CDs. 

The shortlist of Canadian-born musicians who’ve influenced the shape of jazz might well be headed by Kenny Wheeler, who at 82 continues to craft significant new work. The Long Waiting (CamJazz CAMJ 7848-2), recorded in 2011, is a spectacular big band outing. Wide interval leaps, airy highs and a piquant emotional subtlety still distinguish Wheeler’s flugelhorn lines, while his compositions somehow swing as his Hindemith-like brass voicings bring special depth and lustre. It’s an unusual combination of the mobile and the regal, and Diana Torto’s wordless vocal leads (the band even has a singer!) add another distinct dimension. The CD is a shared achievement, with Wheeler supported by a host of long-standing associates, among them pianist John Taylor, guitarist John Parricelli and saxophonists Ray Warleigh and Stan Sulzmann.

Mundo: The World of Jane Bunnett (EMI 5-09993-01621-2-9) is a 2-CD retrospective of her career, compiling tracks from CDs dating back to 1989. Whether Bunnett is playing flute or soprano saxophone, in a duo with a master pianist like Don Pullen or Paul Bley or with a large group of Cuban percussionists and vocalists, she’s an exciting musician, committed to reaching her limits and finding something new. Her Cuban adventures are highlighted here, but there are plenty of other moods and rhythms, including balladic depths (You Don’t Know What Love Is), playful flute chatter (Serenade to a Cuckoo), and soulful funk (New Orleans under Water). The interest never flags in the two and a half hour program, further tribute to Bunnett’s taste in sidemen and her sense of variety.

On Double Entendre (Soccer Mom Records SOCM005), Jeff McLeod mixes and matches musicians from Toronto and Rochester, N.Y. where he’s doing graduate work at the Eastman School. It’s an ambitious 2-CD debut that highlights his work at both the piano and organ, devoting a disc to each. The piano disc is more reflective, contemporary fare, emphasizing musical conversations on originals and diverse repertoire by Antonio Carlos Jobim, Tom Waits and Sun Ra. On organ, McLeod seems to reach back 50 years, his pulsing grooves animating tunes by Thelonious Monk, Chet Baker, Pete Rugolo, and the organist Larry Young, while tenor saxophonist Mike Murley and guitarist Ben Bishop almost dance through the burbling organ. McLeod’s own ballad Namekus is a highlight, a lush springboard for some brilliant Murley work.

Toronto-born drummer Harris Eisenstadthas been working in New York for over a decade, but he commemorates his origins in the name of his quintet, Canada Day, a brilliant aggregate of younger New York musicians that updates the forward-looking mid-60s Blue Note style of Eric Dolphy and Andrew Hill, compounded with their own distinctive voices and Eisenstadt’s continuing explorations of rhythmic structures. On Canada Day III (Songlines SGL 1596-2), the group includes trumpeter Nate Wooley, saxophonist Matt Bauder, vibraphonist Chris Dingman and bassist Garth Stevenson who create a glittering weave of elements around Eisenstadt’s works. Recorded at the end of a tour, the group manages to play the works with aplomb, confidently negotiating even the shifting patterns of Slow and Steady. Even in this company, trumpeter Wooley stands out, moving from a tender bop lyricism to electronic-sounding explorations.

Eisenstadt’s Canada Day Octet (482 Music 482-1080) adds three winds to the quintet, among them the veteran Ray Anderson whose explosive, vocalic trombone work is an apt addition. Most of the CD is devoted to a four-part suite, called The Ombudsman, built around the idea of negotiating between structured and unstructured elements and arguing for their co-existence. Eisenstadt’s gifts as a composer come to the fore here, constructing wholly satisfying music out of apparently opposite strategies. As with the quintet date, it’s enlivened at every turn by absolutely superior musicianship.

Composer and pianist Gordon Sheard first became interested in the music of Brazil’s Bahia area around 1990, eventually making several trips there for an ethno-musicological study. His desire to work with Bahia’s leading musicians was realized in 2009, and the results are heard on All Saints’ Bay (GSM002 www.gordonsheard.ca). Sheard’s pieces reflect the authentic rhythms of the region. Some works are actually composed over tracks by the drummer Gabriel Guedes dos Santos with a group of percussionists from the area, while according to the credits, all of Sheard’s piano and organ tracks were overdubbed in Toronto a year later. There’s an inevitable compromise in the method. Those percolating rhythm tracks may hum with life, but the ultimate production favours surface polish over interaction. Saxophonist John Johnson manages to break through though, contributing heated solos on both tenor and alto.

Vancouver pianist Tyson Naylor’s trio suggests the maxim “less is more,” making almost every phrase count on a debut that reflects the post-rock minimalism of the Bad Plus and EST. Kosmonauten (Songlines SGL 1594-2), is imbued with musicality and an instinctive lyricism, with the group managing to invoke the exuberant abstraction of the Amsterdam avant-garde and the rhythmic vitality of the South African townships, all on the opening track Paolo Conte. Naylor, bassist Russell Sholberg and drummer Skye Brooks develop cohesive, evolving textures, while guest clarinettist François Houle brings a gorgeous sound, at once woody and liquid, to See It Through. There’s a tendency on a debut to show everything one can do, but Naylor’s deliberate approach suggests he has plenty in reserve. 

When I first became preoccupied with classical music and buying records of favourite and obscure works, the name Vladimir de Pachmann had already disappeared from current usage and was only recognized by a few of the cognoscenti. His performances were genuinely legendary and sought out by both music lovers and collectors (there is a difference!) but perhaps he was best remembered for his second (1927) recording of the Chopin Etude in G-Flat Major Op.10 No.5 which he introduces and after a few bars is heard to say, “ No … I try it again.” which he does.

Born into an era when pianists before the public played only selected works that suited their temperament, it was de Pachmann (Odessa, 1848–1933) who played the entire Chopin oeuvre, introducing his audiences to pieces that they would never have heard. For his debut recitals in New York in 1889–90 he played all-Chopin concerts and finally an orchestral concert featuring the Concerto in F Minor.In the same concert, his wife, Marguérite, made her American debut playing the Liszt Concerto in E-Flat Major!

A remarkable set from Marston (54003-2, 4 CDs)contains every one of de Pachmann’s known recordings, both published and unpublished, beginning with the G&T sides from 1907 through to the 1927 electrical recordings by The Gramophone Company in London. There are 96 performances, including 70 plus of Chopin in addition to works by Mendelssohn, Liszt, Schumann, Brahms and Henselt.

Very soon after actually listeningto the first disc, the realization dawns: each and every work on it is an individual masterpiece, an exquisite performance as if in the intimate salon setting for which it was written. We hear pianissimos that would be unheard in an auditorium. It is inescapable that de Pachmann is listening and responding to the notes that outline the composer’s thoughts. The performances evoke an impression of a delicate mosaic with elements that could fit nowhere else. His artistry remains unique and since then no one has heard his equal.

To cite the highlights of these recordings would be to diminish the others and listeners may wish to compare some performances of the same work made years apart. The transfers to CD are a work of art … no ticks, clicks or swishes, only the steady sssh of the 78 rpm originals with every note clearly heard, even those delicate pianissimos.

It was a great pleasure to audition and review this unique collection that reflects a labor of love by all concerned including the many sponsors. The extensive liner notes are informative, comprehensive and readable, the best I’ve seen. They were written by Edward Blickstein, whose definitive biography of de Pachmann, written with Greg Benko, is expected by the end of this year from Scarecrow Press.

Amazon lists a couple of dozen CDs devoted to, or including, performances by de Pachmann, confirming that he is not forgotten by those who care about the artistry and sensitivity of this pianist whose recordings from a hundred years ago can captivate today’s discerning and receptive music lovers.

Deutsche Grammophon has assembled a luxurious set of their audio recordings with Herbert von Karajan made in the 1960s titled simply Karajan 1960s (DG 4790055), including 82 CDs, a 200-page book and some recording session data sheets, all in a sturdy eight by eight by six inch presentation box. The CDs are faithful to the original LPs in content, cover art and liner notes. Here are all the celebrated recordings of 40 composers made during what was surely a golden age. The collection has all the orchestral and choral recordings but excludes the many operas.

Some examples:

Ein Heldenleben(CD1) was DG’s first recording with Karajan. The sessions, March 2 to 4, 1959, took place in the Jesus-Christus Kirche in Berlin, which was to be the venue of choice for many years. The balance engineer was Günter Hermanns who would be Karajan’s engineer from then on. Ein Heldenlebenbecame a Karajan specialty and this recording was a triumph both artistically and technically. Playing it today is as thrilling as it was over half a century ago. Possibly more so. On a personal note, on January 24, 1965, I was in Constitution Hall in Washington for a concert by the Berlin Philharmonic. A gentleman appeared on stage and announced the death of Winston Churchill and that Mr. von Karajan was dedicating this performance of Ein Heldenlebento his memory. That was both an occasion and a mighty performance to remember.

Stravinsky did not care for Karajan’s way with his music but Karajan recorded Le Sacre du Printempstwice, as well as other works included here. The 1964 Sacre(CD15) is opulent and brilliant, and would likely not have conformed to the composer’s acerbic vision. Sibelius, on the other hand, was most enthusiastic about Karajan’s performances of his music. This collection has eight Sibelius CDs including the last four symphonies and the deservedly admired Violin Concertowith Christian Ferras (CD25) plus a sweeping proclamation of Finlandia.

Upon its release, we were all astonished by Karajan’s recording of Dvořák’s “New World” Symphony (CD17). It was notable for the prodigious vitality of the performance with not one tentative moment to dampen the ardor, all heard in dynamic and lucid sound. Recorded in March 1964, it is still artistically and sonically exhilarating (as is Karajan’s unbeatable version of Debussy’s La Mer(CD18) from the same month).

Karajan’s historic first “Beethoven Symphonies” cycle is here plus all the overtures, the Violin Concerto with Christian Ferras (CD47), the Military Marches (CD70) and more. Equally notable are Karajan’s recordings of the four Brahms symphonies (CD19-22), the Violin Concerto (CD23) again with Christian Ferras, the Second Piano Concerto with Geza Anda (CD60) and my favourite version of Ein Deutsches Requiem(CD24) with Gundula Janowitz, Eberhard Waechter and the Wiener Singverein. You can find full details of this collection at www.deutschegrammophon.com/cat/single?PRODUCT_NR=4790055.

No one would expect that every recording by this artist, or in fact any artist, would or could be a universal favourite. Besides, what we dislike today we may like tomorrow. And the reverse is equally true.

Soon after Karajan’s death, an orchestra member was quoted as saying that, forced to choose between truth and beauty, Herbert von Karajan chose beauty. 

Freedom and the Arts: Essays on Music and Literature
by Charles Rosen
Harvard University Press
448 pages, musical examples; $35.00 US

Once again, Charles Rosen has drawn on his talents as a pianist, scholar and essayist to produce a singularly thought-provoking collection of articles and reviews. Most were first published in the New York Review of Books — the title paper, Freedom and Art, appeared just this past May. At 85 Rosen is as brilliant as ever, if a touch more curmudgeonly than in previous collections. He has also become noticeably more nostalgic for the days when directors were not expected to “spruce up” operas to attract audiences, young composers did not feel compelled to write easily accessible music, and audiences read essays for pleasure.

Rosen’s ongoing tiffs with fellow journalist-musicologist Richard Taruskin run through these pages. In Western Music: The View from California, a detailed review of Taruskin’s six-volume Oxford History of Western Music, Rosen challenges Taruskin’s more sociologically-based approach to music history. He even goes so far as to accuse Taruskin of gearing his writing to appeal to the lucrative textbook market. In a postscript, Modernism and the Cold War, Rosen attacks Taruskin’s response to this review, in which Taruskin had written that he “regards Rosen’s literary output — all of it — as Cold War propaganda.” And so it goes. While this is all very entertaining — and edifying — the irony is that as outspoken as these two are, they are often not that far apart, especially on controversial issues like early music.

In a heartfelt tribute to Elliott Carter on his 100th birthday, Rosen writes eloquently in defence of Carter’s complex music, “Since Beethoven, it is the difficult music that has survived most easily; the originally unintelligible Wagner, Strauss, Debussy, Stravinsky and all the others that were so shocking are now an essential part of the concert scene.” Recalling a critical comment about a lack of emotion in Carter’s Night Fantasies after he performed this gorgeous work in Toronto 30 years ago, he adds, “Only when one understands how the music works (that is, consciously or unconsciously, feels at ease with the music) can one perceive the emotion.”

He offers plenty to argue with, such as when he dismisses composers who reject what he calls the “triumphs of modernism” and produce tonally based works with regular pulses and measurable rhythmic patterns. “All the modern tonal music I have heard,” he writes, “is loosely and simply organized, incapable of the subtle articulations and complex significance we find in Haydn or Beethoven.”

Rosen is especially attuned to nuances and outright contradictions in matters of interpretation, above all when it comes to the significance of style in understanding music. “Musical style,” he writes, “is not a passive material that can be molded at will, but a system that both resists and inspires change.” So I find it surprising that throughout this collection Rosen fails to recognize that an interpretation of musical style is fundamental to period instrument performances, and is responsible for their refined techniques, ever-expanding repertoires, and ever-increasing influence on mainstream performers and conductors. Yet Rosen writes, in Culture on the Market, “Concerts of music by Locatelli, Albinoni or Graun are bearable only for those music lovers for whom period style is more important than quality.”

The point of these essays is not to convince us, but to enhance our experiences of the music. More than anything, it’s the surprising and delightful connections, not just in music but also in related philosophy, art and literature, that make them so delightful to read. Rosen’s scope is so broad that it’s a challenge to keep up to him, especially when he writes that “the history of art can only be understood if the most extreme and eccentric phenomena can be integrated into our view of the whole picture.” What we can do is keep reading and listening — and enjoying.

The Mastersinger from Minsk
by Morley Torgov
Dundurn Press
264 pages; $17.99

The plot of Morley Torgov’s latest mystery novel, like his previous Murder in A-Major, revolves around real figures from the world of classical music — in this case Richard Wagner and his young wife-to-be, Cosima von Bülow, daughter of his friend Franz Liszt. Cosima’s current husband Hans van Bülow is on hand as well, since he is conducting the premiere of Wagner’s new opera, Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg.

Rehearsal is underway in Munich when Chief Inspector Hermann Preiss, who narrates, is called in to investigate a disturbing message Wagner has received. It says, “June 21 will be the day of your ruination.” Dead bodies keep appearing, including that of the star heldentenor Wolfgang Grilling, who had been the main suspect in the threat against Wagner. Grilling was furious because Wagner had given the lead tenor role in his new opera to an unknown singer who had shown up at auditions, and saddled Grilling with the apparently demeaning buffo role of Beckmesser. But what Torgov doesn’t seem to realize is that Grilling would undoubtedly have been especially vexed because he, a heldentenor, had been given a role written for a light baritone — a different range, colour and weight of voice altogether.

This setting allows Torgov to paint a vivid picture of Wagner rehearsing his opera. When Father Owen Lee gave one of his insightful books on Wagner the title The Terrible Man and His Truthful Art, he summed up what Torgov manages to capture in his plot, which revolves around the horridness of the man and the glory of his music. To add authenticity, Torgov wisely consulted the journals that Wagner’s ballet-master Richard Fricke kept while working with the composer on the premiere of the Ring Cycle.

Because this story is set in 1868 Torgov gets away with referring to Preiss as “the only policeman in Europe who takes an interest in opera.” Books featuring opera-loving detectives like Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Morse and Kurt Wallander may have been written earlier, but they all take place later.

With his imaginative plotting, Torgov has found an effective way to present the complicated questions surrounding Wagner’s — and Cosima’s — deep-seated anti-Semitism. Whether Wagner intended Beckmesser to be the anti-Semitic figure of fun that Torgov paints him is open to debate. In any case, Torgov deftly conveys the transcendent power of Wagner’s music through his novel, if far-fetched, twist to the convoluted plot. It’s worthy of Hitchcock in the way it uses the interpretation of a song as a plot device — rather like Die Meistersinger itself, for that matter.

But it’s the characters, fictional like Preiss, real like Wagner, that kept me reading so eagerly. Torgov is at his best creating characters, and Preiss is at his most sardonic and colourful describing them. Preiss seems to be aware of this, since part way through the case he comments, “I was a curator, not of a collection of tangible evidence, but of a collection of people — living curiosities, flesh and blood to the eye yet unfathomable, untrustworthy, conniving, everyone seemingly filing onto my stage carrying his or her own bundle of plots and lies, and at the centre of the stage, Richard Wagner himself, principal plotter and liar.” 

Purcell – Love’s Madness
Dorothée Mields; Lautten Compagney Berlin; Wolfgang Katschner
Carus 83.371

Welcome to the antidote for those who believe that Purcell’s works comprise over-ornate, highly theatrical operas. There was another side to Purcell suppressed for many (notably Victorian) years.

This is no compilation of songs for love-sick swains snubbed by ice-cold maidens. It gives ample examples of the “mad songs” that emerged in 17th century England, as musicians were inspired by the sometimes tenuous division between sane and insane. This is demonstrated by Dorothée Mields’ strident performance of Purcell’s Bess of Bedlam and ‘Tis women makes us love, two of several such songs in this anthology. Her interpretations leave no one in any doubt as to the amount of insanity these songs express!

Then there are the more conventional pieces by Purcell: the songs from Dido and Aeneas and from the musical theatre productions he made his own, the expertly-played consort pieces, e.g. the Fantazia of 1680, and O, Solitude sung with a purity reminiscent of Alfred Deller’s countertenor version.

Finally, traditional and often anonymous songs complete this highly varied 31-track(!) selection. Thomas Ravenscroft’s The Three Ravens comes with imaginative recorder playing which conveys just how touching and moving this ballad is.

Yes, an introduction to Purcell’s unknown side and to the “mad song” but a not inaccurate appetizer of English 17th century music.

Cavalli – La virtù de’strali d’Amore
Europa Galante; Fabio Biondi
Naxos 2.110614-15

Cavalli is still underestimated as an opera composer. He was supremely lucky in his librettists and achieved new heights with Giovanni Faustini and his family. This was the first of ten operas which included Calisto, Ormindo and greatest of all L’Egisto. Faustini took elements of Greek and Roman mythology and wove them into original allegorical dramas. Here the basic plot involves stealing Cupid’s (Amore’s) arrows to humble him and teach him to use his powers more responsibly. This plot involves Venus, Mars, Mercury, Jupiter and Saturn but soon intertwines with good and bad magic, and a confused pair of royal lovers. As in the original staging, there is a lot of doubling and tripling of parts except for the excellent main voices: Pallante (Juan Sancho), Meonte (Filippo Adami) and Erabena (Cristiana Arcari) who is disguised for most of the opera as a squire, Eumete. Roberta Invernizzi plays both Cleria, the object of love for several characters, but also appropriately, the goddess Venus.

This performance was filmed at the Teatro Malibran in Venice, October 14, 2008. The already complex plot is not helped by the cuts of several scenes — even so it still clocks in at 150 minutes and is on 2 DVDs. The sets vary from timeless to odd; the magic urn to be destroyed (see Alcina) is represented by a few large green balloons; the nymphs who hunt with Cleria appear to be flappers from the ’20s, not exactly helpful in the forests of Cyprus! There is also stripping as an expression of intense desire, crudely at odds with the glorious music. It is good to hear the duet “Ai baci, al letto” in its original context: when Cavalli was being “Leppardized” for Glyndebourne and everything had to be altered to a two-act format, this piece was sung by Ormindo and Erisbe as they embarked on their getaway ship just before the picnic break! Beautiful, sensuous, but not the thing to speed one across the seas.

Even with a less than stellar staging, this is an important addition to the repertoire and improves with repeated hearings.

Handel – Il Pastor Fido
La Nuova Musica;
David Bates
Harmonia Mundi HMC 907585.86

Unlike many baroque composers, Handel thought in acts, not scenes, and was singular in his pursuit of dramatic balance and pace. He worked on three complete versions of Il Pastor Fido, the other two printed as “the second” and “the third edition.” This welcome recording is of the first setting which premiered on St. Cecilia’s Day, November 22, 1712. The plot derives from a famous pastoral play by Guarini, but the libretto (like many of Handel’s early operas for London) probably was adapted by Rossi from a French source: there is a scene with a garland not in Guarini, but occurring in contemporary French pastorals. The chopped three-act version (from Guarini’s five acts) needs some explanation. This was given in a page-long “Argument” only a third of which is given with this recording. Similarly the detailed stage directions are absent. Why? Add to this some bad translations. When the hunter Silvio cries out “Lancio il mio dardo” and wounds Dorinda, he is throwing his spear, not shooting an arrow. The boast is that this is a “world premiere recording.” It is not. That was done by Cetra with il Quartetto di Milano directed by Ennio Gerelli long ago and amazingly with all the voices at the right pitch!

The cast is excellent. They have chosen stylish ornaments for the da capos with real trills not just extended vibrato. Lucy Crowe is especially clear and moving as the long-suffering Amarilli and Anna Dennis as the lovesick self-sacrificing Mirtillo, revealed as the faithful shepherd of the title. Lisandro Abadie, a resonant bass-baritone makes an all too brief third act appearance as the priest Tirenio pronouncing Diana’s divine plan. Katherine Manley is lively and devious as the scheming Eurilla.

The tempi are uneven: surely the final chorus is not a dirge! Nonetheless, when he gets it right, David Bates can be magical. The box is worth having for an aria in Act 1 “Mi lasci, mi fuggi” for Dorinda (Madeleine Shaw) — a perfect example of Handel’s musical drama and his ability to probe human frailties. One final comment on the number of orchestral players: this is one of the few recordings that gets it about right but is still light on the strings.

Schubert – Schwanengesang
Matthias Goerne; Christoph Eschenbach
Harmonia Mundi HMC 902139.40

This posthumous collection of Schubert lieder is a favourite for singers who want the expressive variety that a cycle of themed poetic texts from a single pen might not offer. The creative outpouring of Schubert’s final year included numerous songs that his brother assembled for publication. Unlike Winterreise or Die schöne Müllerin whose texts by Müller are more focused around a specific story, Schwanengesang represents texts by three different poets on a richly diverse set of ideas.

The real surprise in this recording is not that baritone Matthias Goerne presents another flawless performance with pianist Christoph Eschenbach, or that he shows impeccable mastery over the emotive range of material, or that with his enormous voice he never over-sings the intimate requirements of the salon. The real surprise lies in the companion disc with Eschenbach’s performance of the Sonata D960.

Serious Schubertians love this work for its tenderness, harmonic depth and melodic simplicity. This sonata is free of studied complexity or artifice. The writing is direct and aims at some target deep within the soul. Was Schubert conscious of his end? Is the sweet melancholy the lingering pain over Beethoven’s death only months earlier? Eschenbach seems to know the answer, playing unashamedly with full conviction, drawing from these pages a unique statement unlike any you have heard before. He is interpretively wise to Schubert’s phrasing needs, his clever switchbacks over only partial restatements of his principle themes. He is no less clever and wise than the composer himself. This powerful combination creates a rare masterpiece performance you simply must own.

Verdi – Les Vêpres Siciliennes
Barbara Haveman; Burkhardt Fritz; Alejandro Marco-Burmester; Balint Szabo; Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra and Choir; Paolo Carignani
Opus Arte OA 1060 D; OA BD7092D

This fine new release in digital splendour is a perfect example of how under the hand of a talented director an opera can be updated and even improved with a revolutionary concept. Revolutionary indeed. The opera is all about revolution, in this case the uprising of the Siciliani against French oppressors in 1282. How ironic and daring that Verdi prepared this French version for a Paris audience in 1855. But of course his mind was on Italy’s fight for freedom and unification.

The Grand Opera tradition that Verdi laid his hands on with variable success must include a ballet and so this version does, making the opera almost five hours long. What Christof Loy of Salzburg fame does with it is a re-enactment of the protagonists’ childhoods which enlightens the rather confusing plot and keeps the action moving. Minimalistic but strong sets, simple props like chairs scattered around, modern costumes used as a dramatic device (the French in dinner jackets, the natives in jeans and loose shirts, Hélène the heroine in a man’s suit and tie) and an overall grey colour scheme all form an artistically unified concept.

Add to this a group of dedicated, enthusiastic singers, Barbara Haveman’s glorious soprano, Burkhard Fritz  (the tenor’s vocal acrobatics stand out), a fine chorus always so important in Verdi’s operas and a young, formidably talented and dynamic conductor, Paolo Carignani, who brought the house down in COC’s Tosca this February. It’s a win-win situation with the immortal Verdi emerging as triumphant even with one of his less successful but, in this production, very soul-fulfilling operas.

I Saw Eternity
Elora Festival Singers; Noel Edison
Naxos 8.572812

The Elora Festival Singers continues its history of collaboration with Canadian composers in this strikingly beautiful recording. Four of the selections on this disc were composed expressly for this choir, and these, as well as the other selections, are well served by the choir’s pitch-perfect and artful delivery. In the title track by Leonard Enns, we are struck by the passages which incorporate a layering of voices that build and cascade in awe of a profound experience. Peter Tiefenbach’s Nunc Dimittis is peaceful in character, with a gentle, melodic interplay of voices with the piano, played with loving sensitivity by Leslie De’Ath, who also evokes the shimmering movement of water in the Agnus Dei from Glenn Buhr’s Richot Mass.

Organist Michael Bloss both supports and enlivens Paul Halley’s Bring us, O Lord God. In Ruth Watson Henderson’s unaccompanied Missa Brevis, upper voices maintain a consistently pure, even tone, resulting in a treble-like quality reminiscent of that in a traditional men and boys choir. The excellent control of soprano voices is also evident in Craig Galbraith’s setting of Let all Mortal Flesh Keep Silence with the dolce and pianissimo delivery of top notes. On a text by Rabindranath Tagore, Marjan Mozetich’s Flying Swans is written with a wonderfully mystic accompaniment of cello and clarinet, which features drone, ostinato and solo passages, some of which evoke the flapping of wings and trumpeting of the swans, all executed brilliantly by John Marshman and Stephen Pierre.

Schnittke – Zwölf Bussverse; Stimmen der Natur
SWR Vokalensemble, Stuttgart; Marcus Creed
Hänssler Classic 93.281

The Vocal Ensemble Stuttgart is a highly intelligent (musically and textually) group of singers who take on a great number of difficult historical and contemporary scores, not the least of which is represented by these works by Alfred Schnittke. In addition to being a highly innovative composer, Schnittke also trained as a choir conductor. For his Psalms of Repentance, premiered in Moscow in 1988 during the thousand-year anniversary of the Christianization of Russia, he selected texts from a collection of 16th-century writings on subjects such as arrogance, hypocrisy, greed, original sin and fratricide. Musically, he began with Russian Orthodox chant, Gregorian chant and organum which he then filtered through his modernistic style. The effect is soulfully dark and archaic, and Schnittke himself admitted that he could not explain the technique but that the music was dominated by its linguistic origin. Contrasting this, the last movement finishes the work with no text at all, a vocalise sung bocca chiusa [with closed mouth]. Similarly, at the end of the recording is Schnittke’s mesmerizing, hauntingly beautiful Voices of Nature for female voices and vibraphone, in a style described as “structured simplicity,” with consonant sounds evoking the natural world through the creation of tone clusters that sporadically appear and disappear. Again, the choir produces a gorgeous soundscape with absolute, perfect precision.

Tune thy Musicke to thy Hart
Stile antico; Fretwork
Harmonia Mundi HMU 807554

Tudor and Jacobean music for private devotion has long been neglected by early music performers. Here is a selection of composers who reveal why that neglect cannot be justified.

Stile antico rises to the sumptuous demands of Thomas Tomkins’ O praise the Lord with its 12-part texture reminding us of polyphony’s own past glories. Immediately afterwards Fretwork make its instrumental presence felt through its experienced viol-playing in O ye little flock by the all-but forgotten John Amner. Indeed, on occasions the deep, hollow resonance of Fretwork’s playing makes one almost forget that viols are the only instruments involved: listen to Robert Parsons’ second In Nomine.

Then there are the hymns that give the lie to the myth that England was a Protestant country at ease with its spirituality. Thomas Campion’s Never weather-beaten sail may indeed be a prayer of relief for those surviving a voyage. It may also be a prayer of relief by the Catholic Campion for his own survival in an age when his namesake Saint Edmund Campion died a cruel death for his faith. That death, in fact, is the subject of a song by William Byrd on this very CD.

Although some might say this collection is melancholic, divine and spiritually uplifting are the fitting adjectives.

Lawes – The Royal Consorts
Les Voix Humaines
ATMA ACD2 2373

England’s Civil War claimed the life of William Lawes in 1645. Charles I, to whom Lawes was extremely loyal, described him as “the Father of Music.” The ten Royall Consorts date from the early 1630s, but were still being played from hand-written scores in 1680.

All ten are performed here by the seemingly limited combination of violin, viola da gamba and theorbo. And yet from the first notes it is clear that we are to be treated to compositions that display the versatile capabilities of these same instruments. The two Fantazies alone prove this.

In fact, the clear majority of the movements in the consorts are named after the stylized dance movements of the Baroque. The pieces here would hold their own among any contemporary baroque entertainment. Take, for example, the spirited violin playing in the Alman, Corant and Saraband that conclude Consort 10.

Lawes even includes a galliard and six pavans in the Royall Consorts; perhaps he or his clients felt nostalgia for the best-known renaissance dances. The delicate pavan at the start of Consort 9 tests all the musicians.

Overall, Lawes’ music challenges the idea that England’s Golden Age of Music ended in 1620; surely he would have greatly influenced the course of 17th century English music had he lived?

Rachmaninov – Piano Concerto No.4
Alain Lefèvre; Orchestre symphonique de Montréal; Kent Nagano
Analekta AN 2 9288

This concerto is at once a reminder of Rachmaninov’s consistent and recognizable musical language. The style of lush orchestral washes led by strings against broad piano chords reminds the listener of familiar passages in the previous concertos. There is, however, a new element of modernity in this work that for Rachmaninov seems to have been a long time in coming.

Pianist Alain Lefèvre is a powerful player. At the keyboard he creates the kind of Lisztian fear that instruments must surely have when they’re about to be shaken to the core. He is an exemplar of the player that the Rachmaninov Fourth needs. Nothing less will do. Lefèvre and Nagano explode out of the starting gate with so much energy that it’s tempting to think your CD player has started the final movement by mistake. They make the perfect team required to navigate Rachmaninov’s new polyrhythms strewn throughout the work. They embrace the numerous harmonic collisions without reservation and offer a highly charged performance that sets the heart racing. In all, this performance can actually be a little disturbing for anyone unaccustomed to hearing Rachmaninov’s dark side so eloquently referenced here by Lefèvre and Nagano.

By contrast, and a well-programmed one it is, Scriabin’s Prometheus draws the OSM into repertoire it does so well. While of the same generation, Scriabin turns Rachmaninov’s flirtations with modernism into a full nuptial embrace. It’s all here, the French school of the early 20th century excited with rich colours on broad canvas and using every potential offered by the piano to gild the orchestral palette.