Classical Music Reviews [ oct 1979]

CLASSICAL REVIEWS

Reviewed by Scott Cantrell Abram Chipman R. D. Darrell Peter G. Davis Robert Fiedel Harris Goldsmith David Hamilton Dale S. Harris Philip Hart Paul Henry Lang Irving Lowens Robert C. Marsh Karen Monson Robert P. Morgan Conrad L. Osborne Andrew Porter H. C. Robbins Landon Patrick J. Smith Paul A. Snook Susan Thiemann Sommer

BALAKIREV: Symphony No. 2, in D minor.

GLAZUNOV: Cortege solennel, Op. 91.

Moscow Radio Symphony Orchestra, Gennady Rozhdestvensky, cond. ]Severin Pazukhin and Alexander Grossman, prod.]+ COLUMBIA MELODIYA M 35155, $7.98.

Mily Balakirev (1837-1910) probably was the most influential of all the forces that shaped Russian musical nationalism, in particular the early creative careers of Borodin, Mussorgsky, and Rimsky-Korsakov. This great original was what the British would call a "rum cove"-in later life, at least, a neurasthenic religious fanatic, a misogynist, indeed a misanthrope.

In short, a "most disagreeable man" who was his own worst enemy as an artist.

When he wasn't lethargically inactive for long periods, he was so busy telling his disciples how and what to compose that he neglected his own work, eventually finding it difficult, if not impossible, to finish what he had promisingly started. Nevertheless, he was an inventive genius, and as discographic growth widens our knowledge of his work, we keep hoping to find something hitherto unknown that we can rank with such long-accepted masterpieces as the kaleidoscopic tone poem Tamara and the nearly superhuman virtuoso showpiece Islamey.

B Budget H Historical

R Reissues

A Audiophile (digital, direct-to-disc, etc.)

Gennady Rozhdestvensky Getting the most from Balakirev

Unfortunately, we haven't found it in the Second Symphony, which will be new to most Amercian listeners. The only previous recording I know of, Alexei Kovalev's mono LP of the early Fifties, apparently was released only in Russia and France. Labored over from 1900 to 1908, this score is less successful overall than the First Symphony. The arrestingly virile and quintessentially Russian themes of both the first movement and the Tempo di polacca finale are ineffectually developed, and the pallidly lyrical Romanza meanders interminably. Only the high-voltage Alla cosacca scherzo is an incomparably motoric masterpiece, characteristic of Balakirev-and it was written years before, originally intended for the First Symphony.

What a pity that Balakirev was not the sort of man who could learn-say, from Taneyev, who was twenty years younger hut far more disciplined-as well as teach! But of course even a Balakirev well short of his best is still more stimulating than composers working at full stretch of more limited potentials. And it doesn't matter much that the present robustly recorded 1973 performance is coarse, even harsh, sonically. Rozhdestvensky has no doubt at all of the music's worth, and his enthusiasm is hard to resist.

The conductor even brings some conviction to the far more conventional tiller, the second of Glazunov's Corteges solennels (1907), which is more accurately described by the literal English translation of its original Russian title, Festive Processional.

It's a rousing symphonic march based on the famous Russian folksong, "Slave," that would make a welcome, fresh addition to any summer pops program.

R.D.D.

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Critics' Choice

The most noteworthy releases reviewed recently

BACH, J.C.: Sinfonias (6). Marriner.

PHILIPS 9502 00 I, Sept.

BACH: Toccatas, Vol. I. Gould.

COLUMBIA M 35144. Keyboard Works. Kempff. DG 2530 723. Well-Tempered Clavier. Loesser. TELARC 5029-5 (5). July.

BEETHOVEN: Fidelio. Flagstad, Walter (1941).

METROPOLITAN OPERA MET 6 (3), July.

BEETHOVEN: Piano Concerto No. 4. Rosen, Morris.

PETERS INTERNATIONAL PLE 110, Aug.

BEETHOVEN: String Quintets, Opp. 4, 104.

Suk Qt, Spelina. SUPRAPHON 1 1 1 2128, July.

BERG: Lulu. Silja, Berry, I lopferwieser, Dohnányi.

LONDON OSA 13120 (3), Aug.

BOCCHERINI: Symphonies (6). Leppard.

PHILIPS 6703 034 (3), Sept.

BRITTEN: Peter Grimes. Vickers, Harper, C. Davis.

PHILIPS 6769 014 (3), July.

BUSONI: Piano Sonatinas (6). Jacobs.

NONESUCH 11 71359, July.

MASSENET: Cendrillon. Von Stade, Gedda, Welting, Rudel.

COLUMBIA M3 35194 (3), Aug.

MARTINU: Symphony No. 1; Variations for Piano and Orchestra. Leichner, Neumann.

SUPRAPHON 4 10 2166, Sept.

MONTEVERDI: Madrigals, Book VII. Soloists, Leppard. PHILIPS 6747 416 (3), July.

MUSSORGSKY: Pictures.

SHOSTAKOVICH: Preludes. Berman. DG 2531 096, July.

MUSSORGSKY: Songs. Nesterenko.

COLUMBIA/MELoDIYA M 35141, July.

RAVEL: Vocal and Instrumental Works. DeGaetani, Kalish, et al.

NONESUCH H 71355, July.

SHOSTAKOVICH: Lady Macbeth of the Mtzensk District. V ishnevskaya, Rostropovich.

ANGEL SCLX 3866 (3), Sept.

SIBELIUS: Four Legends. Ormandy. ANGELS 37537, July.

SMETANA: Má Vlast. Talich (1956-57).

RE-DIFFUSION HCN 8001 /2 (2). Neumann. SuPRArltoN 4 10 2021/2 (2). July.

VIVALDI: I'Olimpiade. Zempléni, et al., Szekeres. HuNGARoroN SLPX 11901/3 (3), July.

ELLI' AMELING: Souvenirs.

COLUMBIA M 35119, Aug.

TERESA BERGANZA: Zarzuela Recital.

ZAMBRA ZL 505, July.

EDWARD TARR AND GEORGE KENT: Baroque Masterpieces for Trumpet and Organ, Vol 3.

NONESUCH I 171356, July.

BUCK ROGERS. Original film soundtrack recording. MCA 3097, Aug.

SWEENEY TODD: Original Broadway cast recording.

RCA RED SEAL CBL 2-3379 (2), Aug.

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BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 3, in E flat, Op. 55 (Eroica).

Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, Carlo Maria Giulini, cond. [Gunther Breest, prod.]

DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 2531 123, $8.98. Tape: 3301 123, $8.98 (cassette).

Giulini and his new orchestra gave a soporific account of the Eroica in Carnegie Hall last May, an utterly wrongheaded, low-tension account. All the strife was smoothed away, and such crucial elements as the jabbing trumpet dissonances and the numerous sforzando accents (not to mention the sense of the first-movement marking, Allegro con brio) were underplayed.

This recording, made several months earlier, is much tougher in accentuation, more precisely executed, and, everything considered, a much more viable interpretation of Beethoven.

I still question the wisdom of that first-movement repeat, especially when the tempo is as slow as, if not slower than, Klemperer's, and I am convinced that Beethoven was after a combative, stinging momentum rather than stolid monumentality. For all that, there is an overall design and architecture to the interpretation that eluded me in the live performance. Particularly memorable is the Marcia funébre, gravely paced (in that movement, appropriately so) and eloquently sung with a long tensile line. The scherzo, too, is impressive--a slow basic tempo that is nonetheless rhythmically well sprung and admits a steady transition into the trio, which the horns play more accurately and audaciously here than at the concert.

The recorded sound, rather closely miked, brings out some attractive woodwind detail, but, whether from the sonic compression-the first side runs to nearly thirty-eight minutes-or from the intrinsic scrawniness of the orchestra itself, there is a lack of impact that seems at variance with so weighty a conception. Not an all-purpose Eroica, then, but one that can give musical pleasure in its way. H.G.

BEETHOVEN: Trio for Violin, Cello, and Piano, in B flat, Op. 97 (Archduke). Suk Trio. [ Milan Slavicky, prod.'

SUPRAPHON 4 11 2137, $8.98 (5Q-encoded disc).

COMPARISON: Quin. PMC 7082 Suk Trio

This remake of the Archduke by that fine ensemble of violinist Josef Suk, cellist Josef Chuchro, and pianist Jan Panenka apsence reissue of its outstanding mid-Sixties recording, previously available domestically on Crossroads and Vanguard/Supraphon. And the new version too comes in multiple formats: It was recorded (in 1975) simultaneously by Supraphon, in conventional analog form, and by Nippon Columbia, in PCM digital form. The latter is available-at premium price, of course-as Denon OX 7035, which I have not heard.

From my experience of some other digital recordings, including the Suk remake of the Tchaikovsky trio, I am willing to entertain the possibility that I might be more swayed by the Denon edition, but for now I have a distinct preference for the immediacy and impact of the older performance over the brighter highs and larger-hall ambience of the remake. Nobody hearing the new recording is going to fault it seriously, and it does reflect a decade's technological progress, especially in terms of reduced tape hiss. For all that, the more intimate balances of the older version seem to me more apt for chamber music, particularly in the case of the piano, whose symphonic aspects were more discreetly contained; in the new recording, the wider dynamic range and the more distant miking sometimes allow the keyboard to swamp the strings.

At the time of its release, I called the Crossroads recording "the Archduke we have been waiting for." I can repeat that claim here, with the qualifications that the newer account is fractionally broader and slightly fussier in its shaping and pointing.

In both performances, the first-movement repeat is made, but not the one in the scherzo.

My preference for the older recording is heightened by the somewhat crackly surfaces and low-level mastering of the new Supraphon disc.

H.G.

BEETHOVEN: Works for Cello and Piano.

Janos Starker, cello; Rudolf Buchbinder, piano.

TELEFUNKEN 36.35450, $26.94 (three discs manual sequence). Tape: 34.35450, $26.94 (three cassettes). Sonatas: No. 1, in F, Op. 5, No. 1; No. 2, in G minor, Op. 5, No. 2; No. 3, in A, Op. 69; No. 4, in C, Op. 102, No. 1; No. 5, in D, Op. 102, No. 2. Variations: on Handel's "See, the conquering hero comes," WoO. 45; on Mozart's "Ein Mádchen oder Weibchen," Op. 66; on Mozart's' Bei Mánnern," WoO. 46.

COMPARISON--sonatas: Mus. Her. MI IS 596/7 Starker, Sebok

Although Starker has recorded the Beethoven sonatas twice before, this is the first time he has included the three sets of variations-works of slighter stature, hut nonetheless rewarding as examples of how one master dealt with the materials from two other masters.

Starker's current approach to the sonatas in general proceeds from the breadth and deliberation of his second cycle, with Gyorgy Sebok (an Erato recording issued here by Musical Heritage Society), which was itself a radical departure from the headlong facility of the earlier Period recording with Abba Bogin. The differences between the Erato and Telefunken sets are due chiefly to Rudolf Buchbindeí s more volatile, lyrical pianism-some may even find it overnuanced, especially in the first movement of Op. 69-and to the superiority of Telefunken's sound. Both instruments are robust and prominent, and they are in exemplary balance-note the striding octaves behind the cello in the Allegro vivace of Op. 102, No. 1, and the way accompaniment figures always emerge clearly yet supportively. Furthermore, the impactive clarity is heard in the context of an ideal resonance. Starker's bowing and tone production are silken smooth, yet less aloof, more songfully relaxed, more mellow, than sometimes in the past. The variations are particularly communicative.

Everything considered, there are persuasive grounds for regarding this beautiful set as the preferred edition. A whole new literature has grown around this music since I reviewed the Fournier/ Schnabel sonatas (Seraphim IB 6075) in March 1973, including some entries that are impressive in whole or part. The Harrell/Levine sonatas set (RCA ARL 2-2241), for example, direct to the point of brusqueness, is dominated by the pianist, which makes some sense when you consider that the composer wrote at least the early works for his own virtuoso abilities. I find the Op. 5 sonatas especially attractive, and the slightly businesslike Op. 69 is a refreshing departure from the customary languor.

The Olefsky/Hautzig Monitor edition of the sonatas (MCS 2137/8) is attractively broad and characterful, a shade roughhewn and unpolished, perhaps, but reproduced with telling immediacy. Of special interest is Op. 69, played from an autograph that has many variants from the standard text: cello lines filled out with embellishment, ties not treated as such, some purposeful harmonic amplification. The Monitor recordings make a plausible low-priced alternative to the uneven but incomparably patrician Fournier/Schnabel set. Chuchro and Panenka (Supraphon 1 11 1091/3, with the variations) produce a balanced team effort; again, I especially like Op. 5. The Du Pré/Barenboim set (Angel SC 3823, with the variations) is also uneven, ranging from a vital, enthusiastic Op. 5, No. 1, and a strong Op. 102, No. 2, to a lethargic, smeary Op. 5, No. 2, and tentative , .I

Janos Starker Beethoven cello works smoothly done work elsewhere.

Perhaps because of the on-location recording, the cello tone is un-centered and the piano tone lacking in nuance.

The vulgar, vibrato-laden cello playing of Shafran (Odyssey/Melodiya Y2 34645, just the sonatas) annihilates Ginzburg's strong pianism.

Among the older sets, the strongest competitor, were it available (and it is undoubtedly out of the domestic catalog only temporarily), would be the whimsical, exalted Fournier/Kempff DG set (with the variations). Richter and Rostropovich (Philips 835 182/3, sonatas only) offer magnificent playing that somehow seems (to me, at least) more theatrical and superficial as the years pass. At the opposite extreme are the Casals/Serkin recordings (Odyssey 32 36 0016, rechanneled, with the variations)--soberly paced, granitic in interpretation, carefully posed for posterity, more to be admired as statues than enjoyed as flesh-and-blood music-making. The prewar Casals versions with Horszowski and Schulhof (available as a German import), while more problematic in terms of balance, ensemble, and reproduced tone, are much more communicative. H.G.

BOULEZ: Sonata for Piano, No. 2.

WEBERN: Variations for Piano, Op. 27.

Maurizio Pollini, piano. [Rainer Brock, prod.]

DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 2530 803, $8.98.

COMPARISON: Fin. 9004 Biret

In an article written in 1948, shortly before the completion of his Second Piano Sonata, Boulez remarked: "I believe that music should be collective hysteria and spells, violently of the present time-following the lead of Antonin Artaud and not.

in the direction of simple ethnographic reconstruction in the likeness of civilizations more or less remote from ours." Boulez was twenty-one at the time, an angry young man bent on the destruction of an outmoded aesthetic and determined to produce a new kind of musical structure, one "violently of the present time." He had only recently published his notorious polemic, "Schoenberg is Dead," in which he accused the Viennese master of compromising his revolutionary approach to pitch organization (i.e., the twelve-tone system) by clinging to traditional rhythmic and formal principles. Webern, not Schoenberg, would show the way.

Yet this new disc, which brings us both Boulez' Second Sonata and Webern's Variations, reveals that these two composers were in fact worlds apart. Indeed, the sonata seems much closer to Schoenberg with its violent contrasts and intensity of expression. True, it recalls Webern in its tendency to dissolve thematic content, but the texture is consistently dense and cluttered. Boulez' piece is clearly a provocation: Notes fly about in a rage. It would be difficult to imagine a work more distantly removed from the extraordinary composure and restraint of Webern's lyrical utterances.

Moreover, it still bears traces of traditional sonata organization. It is divided into four movements, the second and third of which are a slow movement and a scherzo, respectively, while the first and last are generally fast and dramatic in character.

The oppositions, however, are no longer those of key and theme, but of more general "gestural types" defined by differences in texture, tempo, and pacing. The outer movements, for example, can be heard in terms of an alternation and juxtaposition of two such types, with a sort of limited and tenuous resolution--or at least mediation--at the end.

The scherzo is the simplest of the movements. In a clear three-part A-B-A form, it is lighter and more transparent than the others and has a consistent, well-defined character that produces an almost narrative effect. The second movement is the most complex and resistant of the four.

It is a sort of variation form, in which units of musical material are commented upon, after their original appearance, by troped elaborations, a way of composing that was to become especially prominent in the later Boulez.

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Maurizio Pollini--Impassioned approach to Boulez' sonata

The sonata lasts some thirty minutes, and it is remarkable how it manages to sustain such intensity over that considerable length. Only the two-minute scherzo provides any real relaxation. Boulez has recently remarked that this was the last work in which he still consciously reacted to the framework supplied by traditional Western formal structures: "Probably influenced by the whole Viennese school which wished to recoup the old forms, I tried the experiment of completely destroying them." In fact one does feel that the piece was written almost in opposition to traditional patterns, as if the composer were trying to discover the degree to which he could counter them. Yet, just by virtue of this opposition, the old frameworks are still in some sense operative, and the resulting tension lends the sonata its unusual character.

Curiously, the only other available recorded version of either of these pieces also couples them. When Idil Biret's Finnadar recording appeared some years ago, I found it generally excellent, and I maintain this opinion. But I would give Pollini the edge, mainly due to his more impassioned approach to the Boulez. Both sound and liner notes, incidentally, are first-rate.

R.P.M.

BRAHMS: Ballades (4), Op. 10; Variations on a Theme by Handel, Op. 24. Claudio Arrau, piano.

PHILIPS 9500 446, $8.98. Tape: 7300 652, $8.98 (cassette).

If there is a more resplendently reproduced performance of the Handel Variations, I have not heard it. Arrau's piano is imposing in mass, full of delicacy, and rounded at all dynamic levels. Clarity is exemplary: Contrapuntal strands emerge with the diversity of orchestral instruments, as much the product of the artist's penetrating ear and probing musicianship as of careful microphone placement and a magnificent concert grand.

One must marvel at the technical finish of the playing, too; at seventy-six, Arrau's grasp of the notes is complete, and if some of the bold exuberance of Fleisher's deleted Epic account (far less attractively recorded) is missing, that is undoubtedly more a matter of choice and temperamental affinity than anything else. This is unquestionably one of the most imposing recordings of the work ever made, and my only serious reservation is that Arrau chooses to make rhetorical adjustments (the emphases in the surging Variation No. 4, for example) that sometimes dispel the sense of buildup between variations. In that respect, Fleisher's interpretation had greater urgency and continuity. On the other hand, Arrau's vision produces many instances of grand clarification, as in the music-box-like No. 22 or the swirling scale passages of No. 24. The culminating fugue is splendidly transparent but verges on heaviness.

His treatment of the Op. 10 Ballades shows that he can be impetuous. His penchant for tempo fluctuation produces many vehement outbursts-as in the maggiore central section of the D minor-which makes for an interesting comparison with Kempff's more severe classical outline (DG 2530 312). In general, Arrau's readings are grander, more rugged and emotional Kempff's cooler, more aristocratic, and perhaps more mindful of the architecture of each piece. Both readings are quite wonderful, and in the two we have both elements of the Brahmsian dichotomy. As in the Handel Variations, the sound of Arrau's piano is something out of the ordinary.

H.G.

BRAHMS: Symphony No. 3, in F, Op. 90. B Philharmonia Orchestra, Guido Cantelli, cond. SERAPHIM 560325, $3.98.

There seems to be a revival of interest in Cantelli's tragically curtailed career, on both sides of the Atlantic. This first stereo release of his 1955 recording of the Brahms Third Symphony--never before issued domestically in any form-follows hard on the heels of RCA's triumphant restoration of the Franck D minor Symphony, also in stereo (ARL 1-3005, March). In England, EMI's World Records label has just

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Claudio Arrau -- A quite wonderful Brahms recording

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reissued the long unavailable performances of Tchaikovsky's Fifth and Sixth Symphonies and Romeo and Juliet and Wagner's Siegfried Idyll (all with the Philharmonia Orchestra except the Tchaikovsky Fifth, taped in London when Cantelli visited with the Scala orchestra). World Records has also issued the coupling of Mendelssohn's Italian Symphony and Schubert's Unfinished familiar to American collectors from Angel and Seraphim (currently 60002) editions, but this is also of interest, since the Schubert is in stereo for the first time. Finally, in the fall Tantivy Press will publish a biography by Laurence Lewis, who has furnished some interesting comments with the British records, which are distributed here by Peters International.

The Brahms Third gets an urgent, fine-grained reading much in the tradition of Toscanini's concert-hall performances.

(Toscanini's 1952 RCA recording is uncharacteristically lacking in flow. His 1952 performance with the Philharmonia-issued along with the whole Philharmonia Brahms cycle in quite decent sound by Cetra as LO 511/4, also imported by Peters International-is far more representative.) Cantelli's first movement may be a shade over-deliberate (more so, certainly, than his live performances with the NBC Symphony, the Boston Symphony, and the New York Philharmonic), and the recording differs from those concert performances in its omission of the first-movement repeat (without the conductor's consent, it is rumored). Cantelli follows Toscanini's latter-day habit of reinforcing the double basses with timpani at bars 174-76 in the finale; the resonant recorded sound makes it difficult to ascertain whether the second violins are being helped with cellos at bars 161-62 in the first movement, another very sensible Toscanini practice. Detail is somewhat underplayed in Cantelli's agreeably, though somewhat murkily, reproduced reading.

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Guido Cantelli--Following the Toscanini tradition in Brahms

The left-right division of violins is an advantage of the stereo format, which otherwise differs only slightly from the mono version. Indeed, the last British issue of this performance, on one side of a deleted HMV Concert Classics disc, had marginally cleaner highs and more bite in the brass. At its modest price, this is a thoroughly worthy Brahms Third, regardless of its memorial value.

The World Records issues of the two Tchaikovsky symphonies (SHB 52, two discs) and the Romeo/Siegfried Idyll pairing (SH 287) are dramatically improved over the original American editions. The Romeo, in fact, is so much fuller and clearer (with only the under-recorded timpani remaining to remind one of the older pressing) that one is forced to re-evaluate the performance, which lacks the overpowering drama of Toscanini's and Markevitch's but more than compensates with ravishing instrumental color and superlative woodwind blend. The stereo remastering of the Schubert Unfinished (SH 290) seems a bit fuller than the Seraphim mono, but my copy has noisy surfaces.

Some prime Cantelli material still awaits reissue-in particular the 1953 Brahms First and Schumann Fourth, the 1955-56 coupling of Mozart's Symphony No. 29 and Musical Joke, the 1951 Mussorgsky-Ravel Pictures, the 1954 Debussy Martyre de Saint Sébastien, the 1955 Ravel Daphnis et Chloé Suite No. 2, and the 1950 Hindemith Mathis der Maier.

H.G.

BRUCKNER: Symphony No. 8, in C minor (ed. Nowak). Dresden State Orchestra, Eugen Jochum, cond. [David Mottley, prod.]

ANGEL SB 3893, $15.98 (two discs, automatic sequence).

COMPARISONS--Nowak ed.: Priv. 2726 077 Jochum/Berlin Phil.

DG 2709 068 Bohm/Vienna Phil. Col. M2 30070 Szell/Cleveland O.

The first thing to note about the initial release in Eugen Jochum's new EMI Bruckner cycle is the quality of the orchestral playing and recording. The veteran conductor's earlier DG cycle (returning to print in the mid-price Privilege series) was split between the Bavarian Radio Symphony, which just wasn't as good an orchestra as the Dresden State, and the Berlin Philharmonic, whose softer-edged playing was further muted by DG's engineering style of the period. The new recording is a decided improvement sonically. Note, for example, the top-to-bottom audibility of harp runs in the scherzo's trio. In the DG edition, I was bothered by rather simpering vibrato and portamento of the violins; the Dresden players are solid and clean, yet no less expressive. Trumpets and drums are also more militantly present in the new version-an important consideration in a symphony whose sheer savagery is commonly understated by conductors.

Jochum's two stereo Eighths follow the same basic outline. (I remember only vaguely his-and the symphony's-first recording, with the Hamburg Philharmonic on a mono DG/Decca.) The conductor stresses the dotted rhythm in the low strings' opening phrases, and the first movement's apocalyptic argument unfolds with little further pressure-note the refusal to hurry the horn solo two bars after G. The scherzo is moderately brisk, with a gaiety suitable for Beethoven; the trio is flexible, with several Luftpausen. The Adagio is calm and inward, somberly glowing from first to last; after the final climax (three bars before W), Jochum exaggerates the sehr markig direction, bearing down very distinctly on each note. His generous observation of gear changes in the finale for me underscore the episodic character of the movement.

Jochum remains firm in his adherence to the Nowak Bruckner editions, which in the case of the Eighth means rejection of Haas's hybrid of Bruckner's original and final score. The Nowak score thus has the virtue of consistency in presenting the composer's wishes at one point in time. Of the rival Nowak-based recordings, Bohm's is more heated in its passion and drive, though the unsubtle dynamics of the recording are a problem. (Bohm's coupled Seventh Symphony, as a matter of fact, is more impressive.) Szell's is coolly meticulous in its craftsmanship, controversial for the deliberation of its scherzo, and splendidly taut and well molded.

A.C.

BUXTEHUDE: Organ Works, Vols. 3-4.

Michel Chapuis, organs of the Evangelical Church, Bremen, and St. Lamberti Church, Aurich ( West Germany).

TELEFUNKEN 26.35308 and 26.35309, $17.96 each two-disc set.

With these two albums, Michel Chapuis completes his seven-disc survey of the organ works of Dietrich Buxtehude (1637-1707), arguably the most important composer of the great organ "school" that flourished in northern Germany during the seventeenth century and the beginning of the eighteenth. As in the two previous releases (reviewed in August 1978), we are treated to the sonorities of superb new instruments-both, in this case, by the West German builders Ahrend and Brunzema and Telefunken has provided vivid recorded sound, elegant packaging, trilingual program notes, and miniature scores (albeit not in the edition used by the performer). No organ specifications are given here, but information on all four organs used in this survey is included in Vol. I. Giving historical authenticity its due, it is unlikely that Chapuis's more vertiginous speeds would have been possible with the typical fingerings and toes-only pedaling of Buxtehudé s day, and in any case the brisk tempos sometimes sound inconsistent with the music. The Saraband of the "Auf meinen lieben Gott" partita (BuxWV 179) is decidedly much too fast, and a number of the other chorale settings seem unduly hurried. Worse than this, though, is Chapuis's tendency to rush figurative passagework and anticipate beats, and his unwillingness to yield for beginnings and ends of phrases appears curiously at odds with the often rhapsodic character of the music. Still, the performances are colorful and at least superficially exciting, and, in music that is often smothered with misguided pedantry, that counts for a good deal.

Judging from excerpts I have heard from the complete recordings by Marie-Claire Alain, Walter Kraft, and René Saorgin, the competition is lackluster. Though Chapuis's set is hardly the last word on Buxtehude, it sounds like the best for now.

S.C.

CHOPIN: Sonata for Piano, No. 3, in B minor, Op. 58; Scherzo No. 2, in B flat minor, Op. 31. A Edward Auer, piano. 'Hiroshi Isaka, prod.

RVC RDCE 7, $14.95 (direct-to-disc recording; distributed by Audio-Technica).

Direct-to-disc recording of course means that one is going to hear a performer without recourse to fancy tape editing, but in the studio, unlike in the concert hall, the artist does have the option of doing it over.

In the case of this recording by the sadly undervalued American pianist Edward Auer (now in his early thirties), the direct-to-disc adventure produced an apparently unwanted by-product: The Japanese edition (RDC 7) contains alternate takes, which the artist has indicated to me he considers inferior to those heard in this "export" version.

Having both editions at my disposal, I found the differences fascinating, with a substantial edge to the export. This is particularly true in the B flat minor Scherzo, where the Japanese version seems comparatively careful and unadventurous-and paradoxically, despite its caution, less cleanly executed. In the B minor Sonata the difference is less marked. I enjoyed the Japanese recording, especially the last three movements (contained on Side 2), but even there the present version is a bit tighter and more vibrant.

I admire any artist who can play this difficult Chopin sonata so well without resorting to tape splicing. But I wonder if Auer might have done greater service to himself had he recorded digitally. The sound of the Hamburg Steinway is a bit clangorous, and I suspect that judicious editing might have produced a more sustained reading without losing any of the passion and adventurousness. His performance of the scherzo, however, is just about the finest I have ever heard. I am particularly pleased that Auer plays the lyrical theme of the first part directly, without any of the aimless "traditional" sentimentalization, and there is a wonderful sense of direction and motivic clarity to his eloquent rubato.

H.G.

DOHNÁNYI: Piano Works.

Howard Shelley, piano.

HNH RECORDS 4055, $7.98. Passacaglia, Op. 6; Rhapsody in C, Op. 11, No. 3; Variations on a Hungarian Theme, Op. 29; Singular Pieces (3), Op. 44.

PADERE SKI: Sonata for Piano, in E flat minor, Op. 21; Variations and Fugue, in E flat minor, Op. 23. Antonin Kubalek, piano. 'Tony Thomas, prod.'

CITADEL CT 7001, $7.98.

In contrast to Rachmaninoff, whose reputations as pianist and composer have remained pretty much on equal footing, Paderewski's fame as a crowd-pleasing performer continues to overshadow his creative efforts, while Dohnányi's great pianism and his music have suffered undeserved neglect in the nineteen years since his death.

If any recording is going to revive Paderewski the composer-an unlikely prospect, I suspect--it will be this superlative coupling in Kubalek's scintillating performances. This music will be surprising to those who know only the inevitable Minuet in G and the well-constructed but saccharine A minor Piano Concerto recorded by Jesús María Sanromá, Earl Wild, and Felicia Blumenthal. The harmonic content is considerably more daring, and the piano writing is notably challenging and rewarding. The idiom reminds me of Richard Strauss, Dohnányi, and at times (particularly in the sonata) Ravel. There is a strain of Lisztian bravura, too, and all these ingredients merge to form a thoroughly enjoyable late-Romantic confection.

Czech-born, Toronto-based Antonin Kubalek, whose live Schumann/ Brahms recital (Citadel CT 6027, November 1978) impressed me so favorably, confirms that impression here. His playing has passion, concision, electricity, and tonal contrast, and Citadel's reproduction catches it with excellent liveness and dynamic range.

My copy has crackly surfaces, however.

Switching to HNH's cross-section of Dohnányi's output makes clear what Paderewski's music, finely crafted and substantial though it is, lacks: a real individual profile and, even more important, humor. Even in the earlier works-the mostly Brahms derived C major Rhapsody (1902-3) and the Passacaglia (1899)-a certain wit and purposefulness unfailingly drives Dohnányi's message onward. The 1916 Variations on a Hungarian Theme already show Dohnányi moving in the direction of Kodály (but not Bartók!). The Op. 44 Singular Pieces, composed during Dohnányi's final decade, as professor-in-residence at Florida State University, are charmingly advanced; the third piece, "Perpetuum Mobile," reminds me of Josef Suk's Four Pieces for Violin and Piano, Op. 17 (once recorded by Ginette and Jean Neveu and overdue for rerecording). The young English pianist Howard Shelley gives full-bodied, committed readings, and HNH's recording is airy and open.

H.G.

DONIZETTI: Lucrezia Borgia. For a feature review, see page 89.

DRAESEKE: Symphony No. 3, in C, Op. 40 (Tragic). Berlin Symphony Orchestra, Hermann Desser, cond.

VARESE SARABANDE VC 81092 $7.98 (mono) [from URANIA URLP 7162, 1955].

At the beginning of this century there was an anti-Romantic revulsion, well illustrated by Stravinsky's writings.

Though he was not the real author of his books, his ghostwriters correctly conveyed the gist of his thoughts. Of course, many Romantic composers remained great favorites, but not a few young musicians reached for their handkerchiefs when such fine composers as Mendelssohn were mentioned.

This attitude toward a preceding era is not unusual; even Bach was denounced by the rococo as a long-winded bore, yet just as his time came again, so Romantic music is once more coming into its own.

We now have the necessary perspective lacking to us half a century ago, and we realize that a large and valuable body of literature has been unreasonably neglected.

Whenever such a revival takes place, however, there is at first a tendency toward a lack of critical discrimination. It was so with the baroque revival a few years back--especially in the recording industry-when a multitude of works rightfully consigned to oblivion were resurrected, and if we are not judicious in our selections, it will again happen with the profusion of Romantic also-rans.

The symphony by Felix Draeseke (1835-1913) that prompted these thoughts is presented by Varése Sarabande in a face-lifted release. The operation on the twenty-five-year-old Urania mono was quite successful, but the patient expired. The Third Symphony proves to be a mixture of portentous emptiness and a reckless prodigality with the worn clichés of the time. It also recalls Burney's remark about another work: "The length of each movement is more inconsiderate than Christian patience can endure." The reissue also retains-though without face-lifting-the original commentaries by Sigmund Spaeth, the late tune detective who of course discovered similarities in Tannhauser, The Gondoliers, the Ninth Symphony, Rosenkavalier, and so forth. But good old Sig was a charitable gentleman who believed that Strauss "imitated unconsciously." Well, this sort of

thing is sheer waste, not even useful as a historical documentary. Our manufacturers must be guided by better judgment and higher critical standards; they will be the winners, because there are plenty of good Romantic works waiting to be rediscovered.

P.H.L.

FAURÉ: Requiem. Pavane (choral version).Lucia Popp, soprano; Sigmund Nimsgern, baritone; Ambrosian Singers, Philharmonia Orchestra, Andrew Davis, cond. [Paul Myers, prod.]

COLUMBIA M 35153, $7.98. Tape: MT 35153, $7.98 (cassette).

COMPARISONS: Phi. 6500 968 Fournet/Rotterdam Phil. Sera. S 60096 Willcocks/New Philharmonia

Infinitely sad and beautiful, Fauré's Requiem has deservedly accumulated a number of excellent recordings. This latest entry may be the best of all. Andrew Davis knows how to give the music breathing space without sentimentality or stasis. His tempos make good sense, and the obvious affection with which he molds transitional phrases underlines the work's taut yet plastic structure. Among the high points in the performance are the deeply serene "amen" from the Offertorium, the boldly affirmative horns in the central climax of the Agnus Dei, and the well-balanced organ and general limpidness of the final "In Paradisum." The Ambrosian Singers under John McCarthy are exemplary in polish and warmth, and they project the text feelingly too.

Sigmund Nimsgern is a satisfying baritone soloist, avoiding the hooty bluster of Fischer-Dieskau (with both Cluytens and Barenboim on Angel) and the tentativeness of Bernard Kruysen (in Fournet's otherwise admirable recent Philips version). Lucia Popp-though worlds apart from the piercing earnestness of Suzanne Dupont (on the wartime Columbia recording by Bourmauck) or the seraphic innocence of Elly Ameling (with Fournet) and various Doy trebles-gives us a mature, cultivated, and flawlessly shaded "Pie Jesus” which should stand the test of time. Columbia's engineering is spacious, vibrant, and dearly focused.

The equally haunting Pavane, which becoming the Requiem's standard disc mate, is performed here with the optional choral part (also used by Barenboim, whose Requiem performance I consider out of the running); Fournet and Willcocks (on Seraphim, a good bargain alternative for the Requiem) use orchestra alone. Davis leads the Pavane as sensitively as he does the Requiem, and for me the choral version's greater variety of sonority gives that format a decided edge.

A.C.

GLAZUNOV: Cortege solennel, Op. 91-See Balakirev: Symphony No. 2.

GRAUN, J.G.: Concertos for Oboe and Strings-See Krebs: Concerto.

GRIGN't : Livre d'orgue: Hymns (5). Michel Chapuis, organ of the Church of St.-Christophe, Belfort ( France).

TELEFUNKEN 6.42228, $8.98.

Nicolas de Grigny's Livre d'orgue, comprising the five hymn settings included here and an organ Mass, was the culmination of a whole series of such collections that appeared in France from the middle of the seventeenth century. Other Liares--notably those of Clérambault, Du Mage, Guilain, and Marchand-would follow, but not until the best works of Franck more than a century and a half later would French organ music again capture the nobility and spirituality with which Grigny's compositions are so palpably suffused. Manifest in Grigny's hold harmonies and rhythmic subtleties is the apotheosis of the entire French classic "school," an accomplishment all the more remarkable for an obscure provincial organist doomed never to reach his thirty-second birthday.

The effect of this literature is wholly dependent upon the empathy and skill of the interpreter. What is needed above all is a supremely polished technical control, for without it the player cannot execute all those subtleties of rhythm and articulation so essential to the music. Here, for all his extensive experience in the performance of this literature, I find Michel Chapuis wanting. His version of rhythmic flexibility has less to do with rubato and agogic accent than with basic unsteadiness and a tendency to rush when the going gets tough. Everything sounds a hit nervous-a fatal impression--as if utter technical disaster is likely to intervene at any moment. Real disaster never occurs, but the way is strewn with anticipated heats, unsteady figurations, and before-the-beat mordents and trills. Even the instrument used has its drawbacks, for while it makes good use of surviving eighteenth-century pipework, the new mixtures (by Schwenkedel, 1971) are entirely too Germanic for an authentic plein jeu.

This record is not without its virtues, but I much prefer André Isoir's inspired readings of the Hymnes on the French Calliope label. That they are unavailable here is a sad commentary on the status of organ music in American record catalogs.

S.C. JANUEK: Quartets for Strings: No. 1 (Kreutzer Sonata); No. 2 (Intimate Pages). B Gabrieli Quartet. Richard Beswick, prod.

LONDON TREASURY STS 15432, $4.98.

COMPARISONS: Supr. SUAST 50556 Janácek Qt. Supr. 4 11 1995 Smetana Qt.

These extraordinary documents of an old man's desperate, volcanic passion belong in every serious collection; their return to the domestic catalog, and at a bargain price to boot, should get them there more easily. The Gabrieli Quartet brings uninhibited temperament to the music, revving up to the frazzled intensity of such places as the second movement of the Intimate Pages. The general approach, though, is more lyrical than that of either the Janácek or Smetana Quartet, whose recordings I compared in March. The Gabrieli's tone is fuller and richer, though the cello sounds a little boomy, and there is at least as much intonational struggle as in the Smetana performances. For overall technical panache and toughness of musical fiber, I still lean to the earlier Janácek Quartet disc.

London does not specify, but, judging from the Gabrieli's tempos, I suspect that the standard texts are played here, rather than the controversial new editions used by the Smetana Quartet. A.C. KHACHATURIAN: Gayane (complete ballet, 1957 version). Moscow Radio Symphony Orchestra, Jansug Kakhidze, cond. [Severin Pazukhin, prod.]

COLUMBIA/MELODIYA--M3 35195, $23.98 (three discs, automatic sequence).

COMPARISON--1942 version (suites): RCA CRL 2-2263 Tjeknavorian/Royal Phil.

Back in October 1977, when I reviewed Loris Tjeknavorian's two-disc RCA set of Gayane suites, I thought we had an ideal discographic solution for the ballet score. But no! It seems that Khachaturian created a new problem when, for a 1957 Bolshoi production, he junked the original 1942 plot in favor of an entirely new one to a scenario by Boris Pletayov while retaining the names of the characters. Most of the original music remains, but in a score that now makes extensive use of leitmotivs and about a third of which is new or altered material. In contrast with Tjeknavorian's twenty-four selections running to some 99 minutes on four disc sides, we have here fifty selections running to some 141 minutes on six sides.

If you re one of those for whom Khachaturian's mass-public hit, the "Sabre Dance," is all or more than you want to know of Gayane, you can safely ignore this new set entirely-although I hope you won't ignore the RCA, which just may change your mind. The revised score doesn't proffer any significant improvements over the original. Its main attractions (other than to balletomanes) must be to aficionados of the composer and to composition/orchestration students who well may be fascinated by the reworking and augmentation.

Conductor Jansug Kakhidze (a Georgian, born in 1936) was the composer's choice for the present recorded performance, and M. Ignatyeva's liner notes also inform us that Khachaturian personally approved the master tapes. Kakhidze strikes me as often carried along by the orchestra and by his own enthusiasm, rather than being in sure control of either his players or himself. The playing and recording are generally more robust than refined, and they lack both sonic transparency and genuine brilliance. Give me the good old-time Gayane and the charismatic Tjeknavorian.

R.D.D.

KREBS: Concerto for Harpsichord, Oboe, Strings, and Continuo, in B minor.

J. G. GRAUN: Concertos for Oboe, Strings, and Continuo: in C minor; in G minor. Heinz Holliger, oboe; Christiane Jaccottet, harpsichord; Camerata Bern, Alexander van Wijnkoop, cond. [Gerd Ploebsch and Andreas Holschneider, prod.]

ARCHIV 2533 412, $8.98. Tape: 3310 412, $8.98 (cassette).

Bachians will remember that Johann Ludwig Krebs (1713-80) was, like his father and two brothers, a pupil of the Master. Indeed, he was Bach's favorite (at least outside his own sons), and the subject of his punning praise as der einzige Krebs im Bache, 120 the "only crab in the brook." We've already had a fair recorded sampling of Krebs's keyboard music and, notably, some of his chorale preludes for trumpet and organ.

But the present double concerto is at once novel (no concertos are credited to Krebs in Grove's) and rewarding.

This concerto is a musical delight, especially in this entrancing performance by Jaccottet, Holliger, and the thirteen-player Bern ensemble, but it is also an illuminating historical exemplar of the melding of baroque and rococo/early-classical styles. The busy yet quirky harpsichord part in the opening Moderato suggests that Krebs may have known the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto-he certainly did know and was a frequent Collegium Musicum soloist in Bach's Leipzig harpsichord concertos.

The fairly fast-flowing Amabile second movement, however, is more akin to the music of Bach's sons, while the Presto finale is a more cheerful yet bravura display piece than probably would be attributed to any of the Bachs.

Johann Gottlieb Graun (1703-71) -- not to be confused with his opera-composer brother, Karl Heinrich, (1704-59) studied with Tartini and Pisendel rather than Bach, but he was well enough respected by Bach to be chosen to instruct his eldest son, Wilhelm Friedemann. Later on, Graun (like his brother) was most closely associated with Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach and-as concertmaster, later Kapellmeisterwith Frederick the Great. Derek McCulloch's notes for the present release suggest that Graun's creative gifts may have been adversely influenced by the flute-playing monarch. At any rate, his C minor Concerto is-except for its witty finale-not much more than late-baroque journeyman work, distinctive here mainly for its engaging performance. But his obviously later, less baroquian G minor Concerto, which was never published, has considerably more grace and vivacity, qualities that are of course italicized by the soloist.

The cassette edition of this program, conveniently received in time for direct comparison with the disc version, is not quite sonically identical: It is processed, in Dolby of course, at a slightly lower modulation level, which may partially account for its sweeter reproduction of if high-register violin and even oboe passages that are a bit sharp-edged in normal disc playback.

And for once, a tape editor dares correct the errors of his disc colleague, who starts off the program with the least arresting music, Graun's C minor Concerto, and breaks after the first movement of the Krebs work. Instead, the cassette begins with the better G minor Concerto and breaks between the C minor's second and third movements, thus allowing the Krebs masterpiece to be heard without interruption.

R.D.D.

LECLAIR: Instrumental Works. Cologne Musica Antigua (Reinhard Goebel and Hajo Bass, violins; Charles Medlam, cello; Henk Bouman, harpsichord). [Gerd Ploebsch and Andreas Holschneider, prod.]

ARCHIV 2533 414, $8.98. Overture for Two Violins and Continuo, Op. 13, No. 2. Sonatas for Two Violins: in G minor, Op. 12, No. 5; in B flat, Op. 12, No. 6. Trio for Two Violins and Continuo in A, Op. 14.

Jaap Schroder's recent disc of three violin concertos with Concerto Amsterdam (Telefunken 6.42180, January) made me a belated but fervent Leclairiste, and so I avidly anticipated the present program, also featuring period instruments, of Leclair chamber works previously unknown to me and perhaps to records as well. I haven't been disappointed as far as the music is concerned. I like especially the oddly distinctive, often intricate-textured B flat Duo Sonata and the curious two-movement trio-overture that was published a year after its composer's death in 1764. Indeed, all four works are significant additions to the Leclair discography.

It's sad to have to say, however, that only fanatical fans of Leclair or musicologists are likely to play any of these performances twice. In what is apparently their recording debut, the four young members of Cologne Musica Antigua seem to have learned only the worst habits of period specialists. Except in the fast passages, their playing is maddingly, gustily surging, constantly and pointlessly swelling and shrinking on single tones or within single phrases. I've never encountered this presumably "expressive" mannerism as frequently and as irksomely elsewhere. In addition, the tonal qualities of the authentic period violins and cello as played here are harshly rough both individually and in ensemble, an aural trial exacerbated by quite close miking and high-level recording.

R.D.D.

MAHLER: Symphony No. 6, in A minor.

London Symphony Orchestra, James Levine, cond.'lay David Saks, prod.[ RCA RED SEAL ARL 2-3213, $15.98 (two discs, automatic sequence). Tape: ARK 23213, ¶15.98 (two cassettes).

COMPARISONS: DG 2707 106 Karajan/Berlin Phil. None. HB 73029 Horenstein/Stockholm Phil. Lon. CSA 2227 Solti/Chicago Sym. Col. M2 31313 Szell/Cleveland Orch.

This Mahler Sixth has its own extra hammer blow of tragic fate: engineering that produces a quasi-concerto effect! Horns, double basses, and percussion are in the "solo" grouping, with all others seemingly relegated to backward status as a tutti or perhaps "echo orchestra." Mahler's uncanny scoring, as in the delicately calculated passage of bars 415-417 of the finale, is thus ridiculously misbalanced. Moreover, in this movement my copy has a good deal of surface splutter.

All the more's the shame, because Levine's reading is anything but anticlimactic after the splendid one by Karajan, which I compared to its handful of distinguished predecessors in January. Levine is considered a conductor of the modern or objectivist school for good reason, and his sculpting of the often murky opening pages of the finale is unparalleled in its cogency and inevitability. His typical rhythmic crispness and insistence on taut articulation are amply in evidence too. Yet he displays another, more romantic side-a willingness to go beyond the printed page and mold a line with a thoroughly instinctive rubato that works. Note, for example, the sometimes pressing, sometimes yielding handling of the Andante from bars 70-130. Levine's major interpretive decisions will shock few. The first-movement repeat, the omitted third hammer blow, and the scherzo-andante sequence of the middle movements are now standard procedure.

His tempo for the opening Allegro energico may not be exactly non troppo but parallels Solti and is less extreme than the jittery goose step of Kubelik's account (on DG 2707 037, deleted). In the scherzo, Levine is almost as prone as Solti to exaggerate the rapid tempo shifts Mahler calls for, producing an effect of considerably more inebriation, so to speak, than Karajan, Szell, and especially Horenstein. The finale is neither as volatile as some nor as steadily dignified as others (again, notably Horenstein). The London Symphony Orchestra theoretically lacks the velvety aplomb of its world-class competitors in this music. Yet the fierceness with which the strings respond to demands for accents and big tone shows its passionate commitment to Mahler. Few other recordings can match the vividness with which the brass section conveys the sheer brutality of the opening movement.

If RCA would remix and remaster this recording in accordance with the points I have cited, this would be a frontrunner for a basic or single-version library.

Even in its present state, serious Mahlerians will want it for the special insights Levine has brought to what we already know about the Sixth Symphony.

A.C.

NONO: Sofferte onde serene ; A floresta é fovem e cheja de vida'. Maurizio Pollini, piano; 'Liliana Poli, soprano; various performers, Bruno Canino, cond. ['Rainer Brock and 'Luigi Nono, prod.]

DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 2531 004, $8.98.

Luigi Nono's 1976 " sofferte onde serene ..." arose from special circumstances and came from the heart. The fourteen-minute work was designed for the virtuosity and communicative abilities of Maurizio Pollini, who performs it on this recording. It was dedicated to Maurizio and Marilisa Pollini on the occasion of deaths in both their family and the composer's; the tape that runs along with and against the "live" piano seems to represent death in both its inevitability and its quietude, and it gives " sofferte ande serene ..." ("sorrowful yet serene waves") a feeling of motion and force. The taped sounds were derived from the piano, including such extra-musical noises as those made by depressing the pedals, but they have been altered and played with to the point where they have taken on supernatural qualities. The work has beautiful moments that echo the bells Nono hears from his house in Venice. The composer was fortunate to have his friend Pollini to bring out these important crystalline passages; listeners are equally lucky that the pianist feels an obligation to the music of his own time.

Unfortunately, thirty-four minutes of the music on this record belong not to the moment, but to the decades past, when political statements made to music seemed timely and perhaps even aesthetically important. It seems so long ago. "A floresta fovem e cheja de vida," written in 1955-56 and recorded here for the first time, is an accompanied diatribe of Marxist and antiwar (specifically anti-Vietnam) statements and slogans, which no longer seem to be part of our communal concern.

Giovanni Pirelli compiled the multilingual texts and sources, which range from references to an article Herman Kahn wrote for Fortune magazine in 1965 to words of an anonymous Detroit factory worker and revolutionary statements by fighters and workers from Cuba, Angola, Venezuela, Vietnam, and Berkeley. Pirelli must be credited because his contributions are ultimately more evident than Nono's; the composer has scored the words for soprano, voices, clarinet, copper plates (instead of normal cymbals), and tape, but even the non-musical or extramusical sounds are ultimately secondary to the texts. The work was, according to the liner notes, designed with the cooperation of the performers, which is, I suppose, very democratic-but which is also, in the long run, boring. Nono and Pirelli quote Castro: "We know that this is a struggle between past and future." That it is, but the struggle here is less between past and future than between creativity and politics.

K.M.

PADEREWSKI: Piano Works-See Dohnányi: Piano Works.

SCHUBERT: Impromptus, D. 899 and 935. B Agustin Anievas, piano. [Suvi Raj Grubb, prod.]

SERAPHIM S 60312, $3.98 (SQ-encoded disc). Daniel Barenboim, piano. [Gunther Breest, prod.]

DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 2530 986, $8.98. Tape: 3300 986, $8.98 (cassette).

SCHUBERT: Piano Works. B Peter Frankl, piano. [Heinz Jansen and George Kadar, prod.] Vox SVBX 5487, $11.95 (three discs, manual sequence). Impromptus, D. 899 and 935; Moments musicaux, D. 780; Wanderer Fantasy, D. 760; Scherzos (2), D. 593; March in E, D. 606; Adagio in E, D. 612; Variation on a Waltz by Diabelli, D. 718; Allegretto in C minor, D. 915; Klavierstücke (3), D. 946.

SCHUBERT: Waltzes for Piano (complete). B Paolo Bordoni, piano.

SERAPHIM SIC 6112, $11.94 (three SQ-encoded discs, manual sequence). Tape: 4X3G 6112, $14.94 (cassettes).

This seems an appropriate place for a reminder that Artur Schnabel's recording of the Schubert impromptus-one of his last, most inclusive, and best-sounding efforts-has been absent from the American catalog since RCA deleted its LVT edition in the mid-Fifties. (Two impromptus, D. 899, Nos. 2 and 4, are available on Seraphim 60115.) Schnabel's way with this music-his inimitable manner of curving a line, grouping phrases, and bringing angularity to the harmonic rhythm-is much imitated. It is, for example, almost perverse to play the trio of D. 899, No. 2, "traditionally," without some of Schnabel's vehement stress. And when Kempff (DG 139 149) and Horowitz (Nos. 2 and 4, on Columbia M 32342) were bold enough to approach these works from a completely different musical lineage, one ended up sounding square-toed, the other contrived and mildly sentimental. It would appear that Schnabel's insights carried so strong an aura of "rightness" that people have ceased to question and merely follow.

Something of Schnabel may be found in the divergent readings of Frankl and Barenboim. An example is the way Frankl achieves a flowing--one might almost say casual-line. His pianism here is rounded, easily expansive, and very Central European. The magnificently quirky account of the frolicsome F minor Impromptu, D. 935, No. 4, shows that Frankl is obviously a musician of great culture, and who can deny that Schnabel's own playing had something of this rhythmic cavalierness, this feeling of urbane nonchalance? The difference is that Frankl's playing sometimes grows soft-centered, while Schnabel's never did. A telling comparison may be found in the B flat Impromptu, D. 935, No. 3: Frankl's rubato veers to the oversophisticated, with pulse-dispelling ritards and self-conscious italicizing of phrases; Schnabel shaped the patterns with cogent simplicity and a touch of vehemence. Frankl slights dynamic extremes; in the trio of the sixth Moment musical, he smooths away the crucial difference between the forte-crescendo and subito pianissimo at bars 97-98. Such instances, combined with his low-key attitude toward phrasing and rhythm, add to the cumulative impression of pallidness.

For some reason, the Frankl's Wanderer Fantasy projects more power, although the final bravura spark (cf. Fleisher and Richter) and the final poetic impulse (cf. Curzon) are missing from this earnest, intelligent performance. Best of all are the three Klavierstücke (including the longer version of No. 1, with the extra trio that Schubert had second thoughts about) and some of the shorter works, notably the late C minor Allegretto, the D. 593 Scherzos, and the Diabelli Variation. I am surprised, however, that a pianist cognizant of the long-perpetrated misprint in the Wanderer (Frankl rightly changes the D sharp to D natural in the second movement's last measure) and discerning enough to prefer the F flat to F natural in the trio of the fourth Moment musical could be guilty of the tasteless and inauthentic harmony change in the G flat Impromptu-a residual of its long-discredited transposition to G major.

Barenboim's treatment of the epic C minor Impromptu, D. 899, No. 1, is certainly one of the most impressive examples of his playing on records. The brusque, firmly molded phrases compellingly project the drama and harmonic strife, and I am again reminded of Schnabel in the confidence and purposefulness, the lack of sentimentality (although Schnabel's own account had somewhat more lyrical expansiveness and nuance). Unfortunately, Barenboim fails to maintain this level. Already in the E flat Impromptu, D. 899, No. 2, there is a lot of uneven articulation (a far cry from Perahia's pearling execution), and most of the subsequent pieces are either routinely somnolent (D. 899, No. 3; D. 935, Nos. 2 and 3) or unsmilingly businesslike (D. 599, No. 4). The quirky F minor, though decidedly staid and lacking in Frankl's (and Schnabel's) humor, somehow is salvaged by Barenboim's granitelike imperturbability. The recorded sound is realistic but not very alluring; the wiriness and lack cf color are, I suspect, inherent in the playing.

DG's pressing is flawless. In some repertory (e.g., the Chopin etudes on Seraphim S 60081), Agustin Anievas projects a certain muscular sobr-ety and solid authority, so that one only momentarily misses the sparks of fire and poetry. He sounds far more at sea stylistically in Schubert: His idea of expressivity in the G flat Impromptu apparently comprises setting a slow Liebestraum--like tempo (a problem too with Barenboim and, to a lesser extent, with Frankl) and "modifying" it by sudden, ill-gauged incursions of double time in the central interlude, only to fall back into the prevailing lethargy. The fermata just before the reprise of the main theme is all but endless. Most of the other pieces are less fancy, but a basic inelegance and spiritual deadness remain. The piano sonority is thick and opaque; the surfaces of my review copy left much to be desired.

In the absence of Schnabel's impromptus, I direct attention to Brendel's earlier (and better) recording on Turnabout TV 34481.

Seraphim's processing is much better, though not perfect, in the three-disc set of Schubert waltzes. If one listens in small doses-a luxury denied to reviewers with impending deadlines-one will discover that these miniatures have emotional diversity beyond the repetitiousness inevitable in a succession of pieces in triple meter, mostly in binary form. Genius that he was, Schubert managed many captivating felicities of harmony and color and even-as in the wonderful G major Waltz, D. 980, No. 1--some metrical surprises.

Paolo Bordoni, a Paris-trained Italian pianist previously unfamiliar to me, plays these waltzes with wonderful élan, bracing rhythm, and incisive articulation. His sonority has color and nuance; I find its tendency to silvery brilliance, even hardness, aurally cleansing. There is a danger, of course, of falling into mannerism when faced with the problem of sustaining structures over and over, and at first it seemed that Bordoni's formula consisted of playing first times straight and repeats with heavy rubato. Closer scrutiny revealed many exceptions, and I doubt that there are many pianists who could sustain such freshness and vitality. Bordoni's bouncy approach to the Diabelli Variation stresses the waltz elements that justify its appearance in this collection; Frank l's slower, more introspective account probes more deeply into Schubert's magical world. Bordoni's Beethovenian accents and dynamic contrasts in the scherzos make an interesting alternative to Frankl's gentler, more ruminative statements, but why the repeats in the da capo of No. 1?

H.G.

STRAUSS, R.: Die schweigsame Frau.

For a feature review, see page 89.

VAUGHAN WILLIAMS: The House of Life; Songs of Travel. Anthony Rolfe Johnson, tenor; David Willison, piano. [Brian Culverhouse, prod.]

CHALFONT C77 017, $7.98.

This first domestic release of a British Polydor Select disc (2460 236) is notable as the first recording of Vaughan Williams' song cycle The House of Life, on poems by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. But don't be misled-the finer of these two sets of songs, both of which date from 1904, is the Songs of Travel, one of Vaughan Williams' most important accomplishments.

I find the Songs of Travel, to poems by Robert Louis Stevenson, breathtaking in their beauty and tension. Still, that doesn't mean I'm willing to go quite as far as Michael Kennedy did when he called this cycle "a kind of English Winterreise." The two cycles have their journeys in common, and they share a sense of love lost and experience gained, but the British composer's nine songs do not build the emotional impact nearly as strongly as Schubert's do.

Rather like the symphonies, they tend to recapitulate without developing, and as a whole they have a feeling of patness and self-satisfaction that can be alienating.

Nevertheless, among the Songs of Travel are five superb examples of the British art song, including "The Vagabond" (No. 1), "Let Beauty Awake" (No. 2), and Nos. 7-9, "Whither Must I Wander?," "Bright Is the Ring of Words," and "I Have Trod the Upward and Downward Slope." These may share a feeling of open harmonies and parallel motion, but they still are very sensitive settings of the texts, full of pride and power.

In contrast, The House of Life seems self-consciously romantic and restrained, though the third song, "Love's Minstrels," and the fifth and sixth, "Death in Love" and "Love's Last Gift," have their own sweet, introspective characters. "Love's Minstrels" also has a chordal piano setting that emulates the effects of a guitar in a more colorful way than one expects of this composer.

Anthony Rolfe Johnson serves The House of Life better than he does the Songs of Travel, which received a better performance in its earlier recording by Robert Tear. The producers also seem to have been more intent on giving a reliable realization of the Rossetti cycle, and the engineering there is correspondingly warmer and more immediate. David Willison is Johnson's capable pianist.

K.M.

VIVALDI: Motets. Elly Ameling, soprano; Jeffrey Tate, harpsichord; English Chamber Orchestra, Vittorio Negri, cond. PHILIPS 9500 556, $8.98.

Canta in prato, RV 623; In furore, RV 626; Nulla in mundo pax, RV 630; 0 qui coeli, RV 631.

These four "motets" may surprise listeners not familiar with southern Italian sacred music of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, though one late specimen of the genre, Mozart's Essultate, jubilate, is well known. What in the baroque and early classic era was called a motet was a sacred cantata, solo with basso continuo or with orchestra, though in tone and technique it was quite similar to the secular ones. This stylistic resemblance is well demonstrated in Vivaldi's motets. The texts, by an anonymous minor Italian poet, are obviously variants of some nonreligious poetry converted to sacred use in a somewhat shaky Latin. Vivaldi set them to a heady and imaginative mixture of concerto, dramatic recitative, semi-arioso, and melting

Italian aria style, but the virtuoso element predominates and is driven to breathtaking lengths.

Elly Ameling is the ideal interpreter of this kind of music-who says that the breed of prima donnas who can do justice to the demands of ornate baroque singing is extinct? Besides having a beautiful and minutely equalized voice over which she has absolute control, she projects a hundred shades of color, never sings a strained or ambiguous tone, and never takes a breath at the wrong place, no matter how fiercely difficult the coloratura-and difficult they are most of the time. What an artist! At times, as in Nulla in mundo paz, Vivaldi starts out in a quiet vein, but we know that he won't allow the singer the ease of such demure music for long. Sure enough, he suddenly launches into a rondolike fast piece that would make a flutist blanch, but Ameling would put the flutist to shame with her agility.

Vittorio Negri and his fine English Chamber Orchestra furnish a well-nigh perfect accompaniment; it is feather-light, yet never in the background. And Negri keeps Jeffrey Tate, an excellent harpsichordist but also a notorious scene-stealer, well within bounds. If you want to hear singing in excelsis, don't miss this disc. P.H.L.

WU/WANG/LIU: Little Sisters of the Grassland'.

SOUSA: The Stars and Stripes Forever.

LISZT: Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, No. 1, in E fat'. Liu Dehai (Liu Teh-hai), pipa; 'Liu Shikun (Liu Shih-kun), piano; Boston Symphony Orchestra, Seiji Ozawa, cond.

PHILIPS 9500 692, $8.98.

This release is the discographic equivalent of what the jargon of the day terms a "media event." It commemorates the visit last spring of Ozawa and the Bostonians to the People's Republic of China.

Yet, inexplicably, the extensively illustrated double-folder liner notes give no hint that these recordings were made back in Boston, rather than on the trip itself. (Incidentally, the spelling of Chinese names is wrong throughout. In the listing above, the pinyin-ized spelling of the performers' names is used, with the pre-1979 spelling in parentheses.) Two of the three selections can be quickly dismissed: the effectively blustery Sousa march (included, I presume, because the Chinese seem to believe it's an American national anthem) and the uninhibitedly portentous and pretentious performance of Liszt's First Piano Concerto (included, I presume, to demonstrate that the international prizewinning Chinese soloist, Liu Shikun can play every bit as fast and loud as any Occidental virtuoso).

----- Wu Tsu-chiang: A Hollywoodian concerto for pipa

There is more pertinence and interest in the concerto for pipa, a fretted, four-string Chinese lute. For while the interminable metallic twangs and tremolos of the instrument itself get mighty tiresome, the work is fascinating as the by-no-means unsuccessful product of a troika-its composition is credited not only to Wu Tsuchiang, but also to Wang Yen-chiao and the soloist, Liu Dehai. And, fortunately, the music-in conventional enough western, or Hollywoodian, idiom-is not quite as simplistic as one might assume from its party-line subtitles: "Grazing on the grassland," "Furiously struggling in the blizzard," "Pressing forward in the freezing night," "Remembering the parties concerned," and "Myriad red flowers blooming everywhere." If that "program" doesn't deter you, press forward, Comrade, to get your copy of this probably all too ephemeral historical document!

R.D.D.

Recitals and Miscellany

FINNISH SONGS, Vols. 1-2.

Taru Valjakka, soprano (Vol. 2); Jorma Hynninen, baritone (Vol. 1); Ralf Gothóni, piano. (Robert von Bahr, prod.] Bis LP 88 and 89, $8.98 each (distributed by Qualiton Records). Vol. 1:

BERGMAN: See the Dreamer Coming There, Op. 21, No. 1; A Maid's Glance, Op. 21, No. 3; Serenade, Op. 35, No. 1. KILPINEN: Spielmannslieder, Op. 77.

MELARTIN: Along Forest Paths I Wander, Op. 4, No. 1; The Grasshopper's Wedding Journey, Op. 15, No. 2.

PALMGREN: The Charcoal Burner; In the Rushes; Happy Summer Journey.

RAUTAWAARA: Three Sonnets of Shakespeare, Op. 14.

SALLINEN: Simmple Simme and Homeless Hamme.

SALMENHAARA: Three Japanese Songs.

Vol. 2: KOKKONEN: Evenings.

KUUSISTO: Finnish Husbandry.

MADETOJA: Since You Left Me, Op. 2, No. 1; Dark Herbs, Op. 9, No. 1; Come with Me, Op. 9, No. 3; Swing, Swing, Op. 60, No. 1; You Thought I Was Watching You, Op. 68, No. 3.

PYLKKANEN: The Swan of Death, Op. 21.

SALLINEN: Four Dream Songs.

Our knowledge of the Scandinavian music scene is appallingly limited, but the rewards are there for anyone who makes the effort to catch up with that swift-running avant-garde or to take a look back and realize that its traditions did not start and end with Sibelius. That said, there's little on these two discs that casts new light on music in Finland. And though the program notes to Vol. 1 begin with a warning not to compare each of these composers to the "maestro" Sibelius, the point remains that few of them have done anything more adventuresome or original than he did and that, when it comes to representing Finland in song, Sibelius did it best.

It's hard not to resort to the clichéd landscape metaphors when discussing this music, since the pervading mood is craggy and gray. Humor and lightness are rare exceptions, and, even when they creep in, they're generally tinged with folk-style modality or with a sense of transience (often expressed in Impressionistic harmonies). These qualities not only recall Sibelius, but also remind one of Rachmaninoff and, now and then, of Bartók. There is a great deal of Eastern European and Slavic influence in much of this music, even when the surface has been glossed by the chromatic harmonies of the late-nineteenth-century French.

Frankly, these songs and cycles are tiresome when taken as a set; there is surprisingly little variation among the composers, even though they write in English and German as well as in their native language. It is possible, however, to filter out from these albums several groups that could probably hold their own on most recital programs. The Three Japanese Songs of Erkki Salmenhaara (b. 1941-the youngest of the composers) are attractive and evocative and avoid the predictable. The three songs by Erik Bergman and the three by Selim Palmgren have tension and mystery.

Among the songs for soprano in Vol. 2, the five by Leevi Madetoja are gentle and romantic, and the set Evenings by Joonas Kokkonen is delightfully pictorial, with a surprise ending. The lesser songs are derivative and/or unimaginative. Worst is Yrjb Kilpinen's Spielmannslieder (in German), an attempt to retake Win terreise.

The performances are more than competent, though it does seem at times that soprano Taru Valjakka, baritone Jorma Hynninen, and pianist Ralf Gothóni haven't done all they could to underline the songs' variety. K.M.

MICHAEL MURRAY: Organ Reel-tal. Michael Murray, organ of the Church of St. Ouen, Rouen ( France). [Robert Woods, prod.]

TELARC 5022, 57.98.

BRAHMS: Es ist ein Ros' entsprungen, Op. 122, No. 8.

MENDELSSOHN: Sonata No. 2, Op. 65, No. 2.

PURCELL: Trumpet Tune.

VIERNE: Symphony No. 3, Op. 28: Allegro maestoso.

WIDOR: Symphony No. 6, Op. 42, No. 6: Adagio.

To Charles Marie Widor, who inaugurated the instrument in 1890, the organ of St. Ouen at Rouen was "an orgue á la Michel-ange"-an organ worthy of Michelangelo. Built by Aristide Cavaillé-Coll, the great doyen of nineteenth-century French organ-building, the Rouen instrument is today in virtually original condition, providing important insights into the sonorities forming the very basis of the music of Franck, Widor, Vierne, Dupré, and Messiaen.

A Dupré protégé, the young American organist Michael Murray has a special fondness for the modern French "school" of organ music, and among the pieces included in the present anthology the Widor and Vierne movements seem to inspire his finest efforts. He captures all the boldness and drama of the Vierne, and in his sensitive hands the honest sentimentality of the Widor never descends into mawkishness.

Matters fare less well on Side 1: The full-organ romp through the famous Purcell trumpet tune represents the "school of no thought," and Murray's tendency toward a basically metronomic playing style is fatal as much to the limpid grace of the Adagio from Mendelssohn's Second Sonata as to the sensuous chromaticism of the Brahms chorale prelude. Murray's sympathies-and those of the Rouen instrument-being what they are, I would have preferred an entire Widor or Vierne (or even Dupré) symphony to the "bits and pieces" assortment offered here.

These reservations aside, Murray's playing is in every way competent, and the recorded sound is quite vivid. There is, however, a curiously grainy quality to the sound, and an odd perspective that suggests the use of too many cardioid microphones too close to the organ.

S.C.

ORCHESTRA OF OUR TIME. Jan DeGaetani and Johanna Albrecht', mezzo-sopranos; Orchestra of Our Time, Joel Thome, cond. JMarc Aubort and Joanna Nickrenz, prod.]

CANDIDE CE 31113, $4.98.

CRUMB: Night Music I.

BOULEZ: Eclat. DLUGOSZEWSKI: Fire Fragile Flight.

WEILL-BERIO: Surabaya-Johnny.

The main attractions of this release come on Side 2, works for chamber orchestra by Pierre Boulez and Lucia Dlugoszewski, both recorded for the first time.

Boulez is represented by Eclat, which, after fifteen years, might be said to have earned the reputation as his perennial work-in-progress. Dlugoszewski, much less known but of the same generation as Boulez, wrote her Fire Fragile Flight (try saying that five times, fast) in the mid-1970s.

The two composers share some opinions and goals: Both choose evocative titles, and both explore contrasting and complementing timbres, often in virtuoso sequences. They part, however, as Boulez goes the route of the intellect in Eclat, which is scored for fifteen performers, heavy on the percussion. The most interesting aspect of this nine-minute work (which he expects to lengthen or absorb into another opus) is the smoothness with which the melodies fit together, even when they are fragmented among wildly diversified instruments.

There is a linear sweep to this music that is not always a part of Boulez' language and that adds measurably to the work's appeal.

Eclat seems prim, however, next to Fire Fragile Flight, which Flies by with vibrant energy. Part of the fun lies in figuring out how (and by whom) the weird and wonderful sounds were made; effect plays a role in FFF, but there is sense and substance to back it up and no feeling of gimmickery.

The liner notes quote the composer as having been inspired by "the delicacy of deciduous trees in early March" at daybreak in the Great Lakes country. I der music has captured the spirit of opening the eyes, stretching out the limbs, and coming alive.

George Crumb writes not for daybreak, but for the darkest hours of the night, when, he seems to feel, the mood is basically romantic. His Night Music 1, re-corded here for the second time (the first is on CRT), almost has to be played when everyone else is asleep; this is music so quiet as to make the listener wonder whether the amplifier and speakers are failing him.

The percussion (mostly tuned), celesta, piano, and voice make some lovely sounds, but even the telling fact that the composer decided to write out previously improvisatory passages for this new recording has failed to make the seven "notturnos" hang together. Sections 3 and 5 are settings of Lorca texts; the vocal lines use glissandos and regulated recitation in ways similar to those in Crumb's much-acclaimed Ancient Voices of Children. Jan DeGaetani's contributions to this performance make it worthwhile to have re-recorded Night Music I, but no amount of brilliant work by the mezzo can give the music a spine.

If you hadn't already been wondering, the inclusion of Luciano Berio's setting of the Brecht-Weill "Surabaya-Johnny" is sure to make anyone question the logic of this release. Yes, this song from Happy End celebrated its fiftieth birthday September 2 and it is one of the greatest-if not the greatest-of the Brecht-Weill collaborations.

Nevertheless, from this performance, it's hard to care that Berio orchestrated it, adding some modern flourishes to the original pit-band accompaniment. Berio's version was made for Cathy Berberian; Johanna Albrecht, who sings it here, might have taken a few more pointers from Lotte Lenya.

The best rationale I can come up with for this disc is that it shows off Joel Thome and his Orchestra of Our Time. The instrumental performances (and DeGaetani's of course) are excellent, and we can hope that Thome's thirty-piece ensemble will continue its mission, perhaps with more sensibly selected repertory for future recordings.

K.M.

Theater and Film

ALIEN. Film score by Jerry Goldsmith. National Philharmonic Orchestra, Lionel Newman, cond. [Jerry Goldsmith, prod.] 20th CENTURY-FOX T 593, $7.98.

Although I still consider Jerry Goldsmith the most imaginatively fertile and technically knowledgeable of currently active creators of film music, there is a growing sense of déiú entendu upon encountering yet another assembly-line product of his seemingly round-the-clock workshop in musical teratology-what used to be known as "monster music." After the breakthrough accomplishments of Planet of the Apes, The Omen and Omen II, and Boys from Brazil, the danger mounts that Goldsmith may become typecast as a slick purveyor of creepy chords and mutant modulations. This impression is partly traceable to the vagaries of soundtrack-releasing patterns: Some of his most provocative departures from the mold, such as Magic and Islands in the Stream, have not materialized on records.

This is not to say that Alien does not measure up to Goldsmith's standards of craftsmanship. The title theme-which is not heard in its entirety until the film's denouement-is a hypnotic chromatic-scale figure (with overtones of Scriabin, Hoist, and John Williams), establishing the appropriately spaced-out, ominously forlorn, and vulnerable ambience this science-fiction horror story calls for. Whenever this note is struck, the music takes on a full-blown lyricism one does not always expect from Goldsmith.

The bulk of the score, however, is occupied with conjuring the atmosphere of infinite space and terror caused by the characters' total isolation in being at the mercy of an elusive, intangible, even inconceivable threat. Toward this goal, the composer marshals his tried-and-true strategies: sudden changes in dynamic levels, eerie use of unorthodox registers, electronic distortion of conventional instrumentation, repetition of rhythmic ostinatos, string glissandos-all familiar from Planet and Coma and Logan's Run, where they sounded considerably fresher than they do here.

For chroniclers of Goldsmith's unfailing professionalism, there is much to savor here. And it has all been captured in a carefully balanced and spacious if somewhat muted recording, with the National Philharmonic under the capable baton of veteran Lionel Newman.

P.A.S.

FARNON: Captain Horatio Hornblower (suite from the film score); Rhapsody for Violin and Orchestra. Raymond Cohen, violin; London Festival Orchestra, Robert Farnon, cond.

CITADEL CT 7009, $7.98.

Robert Farnon's name may not be familiar to all film-music buffs. Although the Canadian-horn composer has scored a number of films in England over the past three decades (primarily light romantic comedies), his work in Hollywood has been confined mainly to the ill-fated Shalako, whose soundtrack was briefly available on Philips in the Sixties. He also has occasionally served as musical director--Where's Charley?, Gentlemen Marry Brunettes, Road to Hong Kong.

In the pop and jazz fields, Farnon is generally regarded as an arranger without peer (now that Morton Gould and Robert Russell Bennett have turned their attention elsewhere), admired for his telling backgrounds for such artists as Tony Bennett, Sarah Vaughan, Singers Unlimited, and Lena Horne. He has a pronounced affinity for the jazz idiom, and as a straight composer his output of instrumental music (such universally recognized if not immediately identifiable miniatures as Jumping Bean, Journey into Melody, Portrait of a Flirt) assure him a place alongside Eric Coates and Leroy Anderson. But Farnon is a conservatory-trained musician with a proven capacity for thinking in symphonic terms, and this reissue of an obscure English Delysé disc restores to the catalog his most ambitious dramatic film score together with his most successful concert work.

The energetic and vivid suite from Captain Horatio Hornblower, a swashbuckling historical adventure film cast in an unabashedly romantic mold, bristles with all the bold strokes and soaring climaxes this dashing nautical subject requires. But its lyrical centerpiece is the impassioned "Lady Barbara" love theme, which Farnon clothes in all the urbane harmonies and resonant textures for which he is justly famous.

His amazing gift of melodic inspiration coupled with an instinctive feel for the appropriate blend of orchestral sonorities is displayed even more breathtakingly in the rhapsody for violin and orchestra. Conceived in a simple A-B-A form, with brief scherzo eruptions, this work is a seamless elaboration of its long-breathed and ecstatic main theme, whose contours are marked by the sudden, heart-stopping leaps and modulatory shifts characteristic of the composer's style. The combination of Waltonian virility and Ravelian sumptuousness recalls the best elements in European Postimpressionist traditions, as practiced by composers like Eugene Goossens, Cyril Scott, and Malcolm Arnold.

These composer-conducted performances have conviction and authority, and the pressing captures all the stunning presence of the original disc. The benefits deriving from Citadel's new association with Varese Sarabande are indicated by the high technical and production standards here.

P.A.S.

(High Fidelity, Oct. 1979)

Also see:

Donizettí’s Version of a Middle-Verdi Melodrama

The Silent Lass with a Strenuous Air [Richard Strauss in the mid-Thirties]

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