reviewed by:
R. D. DARRELL, PETER G. DAVIS, SHIRLEY FLEMING, ALFRED FRANKENSTEIN, CLIFFORD F. GILMORE, HARRIS GOLDSMITH DAVID HAMILTON, PHILIP HART JACK IIIEMENT, PAUL HENRY LANG, STEVEN LOWE, LEONARD MARCUS, ROBERT C. MARSH, ROBERT P. MORGAN, GEORGE MOVSHON, SUSAN THIEMANN SOMMER
BACH: Magnificat in D, S. 243; Cantata No. 10, Meine Seel' erhebt den Herren! Elly Ameling, soprano; Hanneke van Bork, soprano; Helen Watts, alto; Werner Krenn, tenor; Tom Krause, bass; Marius Rintzler, bass. Vienna Academy Choir; Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra, Karl Münchinger, cond. London OS 26103, $5.98.
The Magnificat, one of Bach's most popular works, receives a highly polished performance from Karl Nünchinger, five topflight soloists, and a first-rate choir.
For the first solo number, Münchinger has wisely chosen a mezzo (Hanneke van Bork) rather than the customary alto: Miss Van Bork manages the high tessitura with ease and agilityalthough I suspect that Helen Watts might well have been as successful here as she is in her beautifully turned performance of the lower-pitched Esurientes. In her aria, sung with bell-like purity and perfect coloratura, Elly Ameling proves once again to be the Bach soprano par excellence. In the Cantata, she carries off a vigorous and agitated aria stamped from the same florid mold as the solo Cantata, Jauchzet Gott, with confidence and élan. Krause, too, is especially attractive in this repertoire, and his one aria in the Magnificat is done with beautiful tone and expressivity. The weakest soloist is Marius Rintzler, who has only the one bass aria in the Cantata. He possesses a large, booming voice, of the sort that I associate with the mustache-twirling villain of an Italian opera. The sound is very impressive, but he is not always centered precisely on pitch; nor does he command the agility to manage the barn-storming effect Münchinger seems to be after.
The chorus is a rather large ensemble with a clean, open, assertive tone. Despite the fact that the women occasionally tend to use too much vibrato, they are very exciting in the Magnificat and in the energetic chorale fantasia that opens the Cantata.
London's recorded sound is spectacular and miles ahead of any other version.
C.F.G. BACH: Trio Sonatas: No. 1, in E flat, S. 525; No. 5, in C, S. 529.
VIVALDI: Sonatas for Lute and Continuo: in C; in G minor. Julian Bream, lute; George Malcolm, harpsichord. RCA Red Seal LSC 3100, $5.98.
Hats off to Julian Bream for editing these two Bach Trio Sonatas (probably organ works) for lute and harpsichord.
He is not the first to adapt them; others have performed them in versions for violin /viola /clavier and violin /piano and the temptation to have a go at different instrumentation is explained in a statement by Karl Geiringer: "The lack of a truly idiomatic organ style can hardly be overlooked. The thematic elaboration is that of the trio sonata for one or two solo instruments with basso continuo ... it is debatable whether [certain] arrangements are not better suited to revealing the intricate beauties of these superb works than Bach's own setting for the organ." Mr. Geiringer gets my vote, and so does Bream. The sonatas come through magnificently here. The delicately contrasting timbres of lute and harpsichord seem wedded in a perfect union, tossing forth their imitative phrases with just the right amount of individuality, just the right amount of kinship. The fast movements cascade along with a natural momentum and complete continuity; the slow movements (especially that of No. 5) move at a lazy drift with an almost sinuous intertwining of lines. The recording manages to balance the instruments perfectly something that, I would guess, is very difficult to do in an actual concert.
Vivaldi shows up rather shakily in such company. The textures sound thin, the writing repetitious. Bream and Malcolm make virtuoso display pieces out of both last movements-at a headlong pace quite out of keeping with Vivaldi's time but much in the spirit of ours. S.F. BEETHOVEN: Sonatas for Piano: No. 13, in E flat, Op. 27, No. 1; No. 24, in F sharp, Op. 78; No. 31, in A Flat, Op. 110 (on VCS 10055); No. 12, in A flat, Op. 26 ( "Marcia funebre"); No. 14, in C sharp minor, Op. 27, No. 1 ( "Moonlight"); No. 25, in G, Op. 79 (on VCS 10056). Bruce Hungerford, piano. Cardinal VCS 10055/56, $3.98 each (two discs).
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The third and fourth installments of Hungerford's projected complete Beethoven sonata cycle for Vanguard /Cardinal uphold the very high musical standards set in the initial release last year. The Australian-born pianist is a scrupulous technician and an artist of rarefied goals. He has a superbly controlled virtuosity at his disposal, but rarely does he choose to show off his technique for its own sake. What makes him such a satisfying Beethovenian is the purity and discipline of his conceptions.
For one thing. Hungerford is capable of all sorts of delicate colors and shading: yet his sonority retains a biting secco touch that allows those characteristic sforzandos to make a full effect. Hunger-ford shares this ascerhic quality with Kempff, Schnabel, and a few other renowned Beethoven players. Secondly, Hungerford is willing to take a chance with Beethoven's dramatic tempo contrasts. The middle section of the Op. 27, No. 1 first movement is as fast and eruptive as the composer would have wished, though the finger work and control are well-nigh faultless. Finally, there is an element of rhythmic discipline in these accounts that furthers the thrust and excitement of the writing without in the least diminishing its lyrical, expressive qualities. Here is a brief evaluation of each performance.
Op. 26. Not quite Hungerford at his best. The Andante of the theme and variations sounds a bit rigorous and heavy at this almost adagio tempo. Schnabel suggested a similar weight. but managed to be freer and less oppressively severe.
The remaining movements, though, are admirably done.
Op. 27. No. 1. Aside from the already mentioned spurt in the first movement, Hungerford's truly alla breve rendering of this Sonata's finale takes one's breath away. He also realizes to the full the fervor of the Adagio. A magnificent interpretation, admirably played.
Op. 27. No. 2. This is a beautiful Moonlight. The Adagio sostenuto first movement is on the brisk side, but also warm and flexible. The Allegretto is fleet and assured (with a minimum of rhythmic mauling at the phrase endings). Hungerford's achievement in the stormy finale is another high point. He uses very little pedal, thereby giving the muttering left-hand figurations a coiled, hyper-tense spring. The series of loud chords that end each phrase of the principal theme are purposefully agitated a bit for dramatic impact.
Op. 78. Hungerford does the first-movement introduction in an expansive manner that prepares the listener for a broader, more-introspective than-usual statement of this little gem. Once the Allegro is tinder way, the reading becomes brisk and alert. Though the tonal colorations are beautiful, I have heard this work played with even greater imaginative freedom and introspective shaping by Arrau, Serkin, Schnabel, Kempff, and one or two others.
Op. 79. Hungerford romps through this frothy Sonatina in an ebullient fashion. A first-class performance, ranking with the best.
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Introducing Anthony Newman
by Clifford F. Gilmore
HERE IS SURELY the freshest, most startlingly original debut recital to come along in many a day. Anthony Newman is neither a "romantic" nor a "purist" in the usual sense but, rather, exists in a unique world of his own: each of the six works on this disc offers a powerful example of a highly individual spirit at work. The opening measures of the Passacaglia generate a special kind of electricity telling us that this disc won't be an ordinary recital: and one soon discovers that Newman's technical mastery is the equal of any keyboard artist today. He also possesses a kind of wild-eyed impetuosity that makes each performance an unforgettable experience, whether or not one agrees with all his ideas.
Virtually every piece here is heavily ornamented, particularly those played on the pedal harpsichord. The C minor Fantasia offers the most flamboyant example: not a single measure passes without adjustments of some kind in the form of a wide variety of ornaments, double-dotting, and notes inégales. I've often wondered why no one has accepted the invitation to supply a cadenza eight measures from the end of the fugue of the C minor Passacaglia at the climactic Neapolitan chord--Newman does just this and executes it brilliantly. A similar cadenza graces the climax of the G major Fugue, at the fermata before the final stretto entries of the subject. For the most part, the ornaments and rhythmic alterations accurately adhere to the French styles of Couperin and Rameau. To my knowledge, no one has ever tried to apply this style so extensively to Bach, but Newman brings it off with virtuosity and panache.
Other prominent features of these readings are Newman's rapid tempos and generous rubato; without exception, tempos range from fast to unbelievably fast. He paces the last movement of the Trio Sonata, for example, at about 132 quarter notes to the minute--Karl Richter seems speedy in this piece at 104 (DGG), and Walter Kraft (Vox) has difficulties in keeping up with his metronome setting of 92. It works brilliantly in this case, though, and Newman's is without doubt the most irresistibly exciting version of the Sonata I've heard. Harder to accept, perhaps, are his eccentric rubatos, which are present everywhere except in the Trio Sonata. Long-lined rubatos, in which phrase endings gradually accelerate or ritard need not be offensive, but here we have an irregularity of rhythm, often from heat to beat, which can only be described as jerky. More careful listening reveals that the irregularities are not simply random hesitations but are logically placed in an attempt to delineate phrases and subdivisions of phrases. In practice however the effect causes the G major Prelude and Fugue, in particular, to sound disjointed--even casual and flip.
Mr. Newman's Columbia debut also signals the debut of the new Von Beckerath organ in New York City. It is a fine three-manual tracker instrument of about forty stops, voiced in a strictly classical manner, and is one of the few instruments of its kind in this country. It is all the more to be regretted therefore that Columbia has given it such disagreeably strident, shrill, and microscopically close-up recorded sound when in fact the organ has a much warmer and more resonant quality. The reproduction boasts great clarity, though, and anyone with a less perfectly secure technique than Newman's would be shown to poor advantage.
The harpsichords built by Eric Herz of Boston have a fine, warm, even, dark-hued sound, but when subjected to Columbia's larger-than-life recording techniques, the instruments sound more like the clangy Pleyel that Landowska was so fond of. Again, all the contrapuntal lines emerge cleanly but the sound is totally unreal.
Traditionalists beware: these performances have very little in common with the currently accepted approach to Bach; and yet this is by no means another showoff album for the latest young virtuoso in town. Anthony Newman has made a remarkable recording, and I recommend it highly.
BACH: Passacaglia and Fugue in C minor, S. 582; Fantasia and Fugue in C minor, S. 537; Prelude and Fugue in B minor, S. 544 (played on a pedal harpsichord built by Eric Herz of Boston); Prelude and Fugue in G, S. 541 ( "Great "); Trio Sonata No. 1, in E flat, S. 525 (played on the Von Beckerath organ at St. Michael's Church, New York City); Fantasia and Fugue in G minor, S. 542 (played on the pedal harpsichord and organ). Anthony Newman, organ and pedal harpsichord. Columbia MS 7309, $5.98.
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Op. 110. A great work which is here given a cameo-like presentation: everything is wonderfully wrought with a marvelously fleet and unaffected touch. Other artists have perhaps suggested more of the metaphysical here (those amazing recitativos of the third movement, for instance), but rarely has the whole added up to a more imposing totality. Listen to the way Hungerford executes the accelerando in the Sonata's final two pages: has this ever been done with greater simplicity and less obvious calculation? Great music need not sound less great when played without pretense and "suffering "--a fact that all too many artists tend to forget. Bright, ringing, crystalline sound. H.G.
-------------- Hector Berlin: three rarely performed choral works
und La Mort de Cléopâtre.
BERLIOZ: La Mort de Cléopatre; Sara la baigneuse, Op. 11; Méditation religieuse, Op. 18, No. 1; La Mort d'Ophélie, Op. 18, No. 2. Anne Pashley, soprano (in Cléopatre); St. Anthony Singers (in Opp. 11 and 18); English Chamber Orchestra, Colin Davis, cond. Oiseau-Lyre SOL 304, $5.95.
It would be interesting to speculate on the reaction of the 1829 Prix de Rome judges if they had been told that Berlioz's Mort de Cléopcitre--to which they refused a prize-would still be listened to with attention and pleasure 140 years later. For that matter, the composer himself might have been somewhat nonplused by this news, for he never published the cantata, preferring to cannibalize its central section (for the Choeur des Ombres in Lélio) and a phrase from an earlier section (for Benvenuto Cellitti). The piece is certainly worth its recent attention, especially for the dramatic and imaginative final pages.
An earlier recording, by Jennie Tourer and Leonard Bernstein (Columbia CMS 6438) may not have been as vocally sumptuous as this new one, but Tourel's stylistic mastery, linguistic command, and dramatic sensitivity are not really approached by the talented Miss Pashley, nor does the recording bring out some crucial lower register orchestral detail.
However, no Berliozian will want to be without this record, for the three choral works (all first recordings) are absolutely first-rate. Sara la baigneuse, a poem by Victor Hugo about an indolent young lady bathing in a pond, was first set for male quartet in 1834, but in 1850 Berlioz made the version at hand, for triple chorus and orchestra.
Despite the nominal elaborateness of the choral forces, the setting is very delicate, with the subdivisions of the chorúses separating and recombining in a variety of colors, the melodic line passing through different voices, and decorated all the while with short, light phrases in the instruments and the other voices.
Sara partakes somewhat of the virtuosity of the Quern Mob Scherzo, and the performance, although a bit roughly recorded, brings out much of this quality.
The other two pieces form two thirds of the collection that Berlioz entitled Tristia; the third piece is the Funeral March for the Last Scene of Hamlet, an imposing piece of Shakespeareana that I trust will turn up in Davis' series. The Méditation religieuse dates from Berlioz' stay in Rome (he finally won the Rome Prize in 1830), but was rescored in 1849; a somber setting of lines by Thomas Moore. it is well made but not as imaginative as La Mort d'Ophélie, which was first written as a solo song (and so recorded by April Cantelo on Oiseau-Lyre SOL 305, reviewed last month). The version for female chorus and orchestra was made in 1848 and is vastly more effective, the weak piano tremolos transmuted into the rustling of muted strings. and the plaintive, obsessive refrain passed among the winds and violins. This piece is particularly well done in this recording. which is, all in all. a very desirable addition to the catalogue.
Texts and translations are included on an insert. D.H. BORODIN: Quartet for Strings, No. 2, in D-See Tchaikovsky: Quartet for Strings, No. 1, in D. Op. 11.
BRAHMS: Ein Deutches Requiem, Op. 45; Vier ernste Gesänge, Op. 121. Montserrat Caballé, soprano; Sherrill Milnes, baritone; New England Conservatory Chorus; Boston Symphony Orchestra, Erich Leinsdorf, cond. (in the Requiem); Sherrill Milnes, baritone; Erich Leinsdorf, piano (in the songs). RCA Red Seal LSC 7054, $11.96 (two discs). Leinsdorf has always been fond of performing large choral works and one of his favorites is evidently the Brahms German Requiem. He gave the work quite frequently throughout his tenure as Boston's musical director, and finally recorded it during his last season with the BSO. His conception is poised, clear, and tasteful, with crisply precise orchestral work, two admirable soloists, and acceptable singing from the New England choristers. His tempos are sound, balances are excellent, and he avoids the cloying Getniitlichkeit that so many other musicians of Viennese origin deem de rigueur for this music.
With so many fine point, to admire, I feel that I ought to like the performance better than I do. For the most part, however, I find Leinsdorf's well-intentioned direction rather antiseptic. He gets a finely arched line in the first section and brings out many relevant details, but there is something aesthetically straitjacketed about his inflexible, metronomic beat. In the processional second movement, where the pulse ought to be carved out of granite, Leinsdorf, for all his exactitude, sounds stodgy and listless.
Why does he permit his timpanist to use soft sticks here? Both Karajan (DGG) vl and Toscanini (Arturo Toscanini Society) insist upon hard sticks in this section, and the inexorable heartbeat comes across with fervent and, in Toscanini's case, shattering power. The Boston maestro's misplaced stringency at the end of this second movement vitiates any sense of a true climax and RCA's rather arch effort to achieve a "churchly" effect through distant microphoning further aggravates the situation. The muscular sixth section also suffers from Leinsdorf's caution (though the engineering from the third movement onward does have more impact). At any rate, the quasi-contrapuntal writing here sounds much less effective under Leinsdorf than it does under the magnificently broad, muscular ministrations of both Karajan and Toscanini. Caballé sings her fifth-movement solo with lovely tone and impeccable lyricism, but Agnes Giebel and Ernest Ansermet are more appealing in their intimate, leisurely reading for London. All the conductors thus far mentioned do well with the fourth section, though Toscanini and Ansermet supply the sprightliest rhythmic pointing and instrumental detail. Sherrill Milnes is a tasteful artist, but he sounds a bit light and reticent for an assignment that ideally calls for a weightier voice with a darker timbre such as Jerome Hines (Ormandy) or Herbert Janssen (Toscanini). When Seraphim has made the masterful Kipnis /Gerald Moore version of the Four Serious Songs available once again for a pittance, there seems little reason to settle for any other edition. RCA's fourth-side filler in the present album is, nevertheless, not without interest.
Most praiseworthy is Leinsdorfs work in the meaty keyboard part. His piano playing is incisive, authoritative, and directional. He is patently more interested in shape than in color, but the economy of means befits the prevailingly grim mood of the music. Mines too is admirably straightforward and disinclined to soften the severity as Fischer-Dieskau did (to cite the worst offender), although Milnes's young voice does tend to sound rather collegiate and raw. H.G.
HENSELT: Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, in F minor, Op. 16. LISZTLEWENTHAL: Totentanz for Piano and Orchestra. Raymond Lewenthal, piano; London Symphony Orchestra. Charles Mackerras, cond. , HENSELT: Concerto for Piano an orchestra, in F minor, Op. 16; Etudes Caractéristiques (12), Op. 2. Michael Ponti, piano; Philharmonia, Othmar Maga, cond. For a feature review of these recordings, see page 87.
HENZE: Ode an den Westwind; Concerto for Violin and Orchestra. Wolfgang Schneiderhan, violin (in the Concerto); Siegfried Palm, cello (in the Ode); Orchestra of the Bavarian Radio, Hans Werner Henze, cond. Deutsche Grammophon 139382, $5.98. Tape: 923103, $6.95.
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Boulez' Debussy--Lucid and Illuminating
by David Hamilton
This is PIERRE BOULEZ' first recording with the Cleveland Orchestra, of which he is currently principal guest conductor. Although the characteristic wind timbre of this orchestra is no more typically French than that of the New Philharmonia (who played for Boulez' first Debussy record). this is otherwise a remarkably fine recording.
It would certainly be interesting some day to hear Boulez conduct a French orchestra in this music, for the sake of that leaner, brighter tone color that we hear, for example, in his recording of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring (Nonesuch H 71093)--but, on the other hand, one can hardly imagine any present-day French orchestra rising to the heights of virtuosity exhibited here by the Clevelanders.
There is more to this than simply the ability to play together in intricate passages at fast tempos, although that certainly helps. The very first chord of Iberia is a good touchstone of the precise balancing and refinement of attack and release that result from the Boulez car and the players' supple response to his instructions. First, there is absolute unanimity of attack. Next, the trumpets are carefully balanced within the chord so that their force of attack counts without dominating the sound-unlike Toscanini's recording, where they cover up the rest of the harmony and do not release fast enough. Then. the timpani notes are short and tight, so that they don't muddy the harmony--unlike Ansermet's recording (where the problem is compounded by a ragged attack on the first chord) . To a very large extent, this sort of thing is what conducting is about, and one could go through both sides of this record pointing out such details -- except that they aren't merely "details." Sonorities are basic to these pieces, and if they don't really sound, the substance of the music isn't there at all. This is the most lucid and illuminating performance of the Images that I know, and the Danses are equally accomplished.
Some incidental points: when Boulez played the Images at his 1967 Cleveland concerts, he used the sequence Rondes-Gigues-Iberia; for some reason this is reversed on the record. The program notes fail on two important matters, giving a wrong date of composition (it should be 1906-12), and omitting the fact that the orchestration of Gigues was completed by André Caplet because of Debussy's poor health in 1912.
DEBUSSY: Images for Orchestra; Danses sacrée et profane. Alice Chalifoux, harp (in Danses); Cleveland Orchestra, Pierre Boulez, cond. Columbia MS 7362, $5.98.
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Both these concertos are examples of "early" Henze: the Violin Concerto dates from 1947 when the composer was twenty-one and the Ode to the West Wind (a cello concerto in all but name) was written six years later. If today's flashy fiddle virtuosos have not yet discovered Henze's Violin Concerto, the reason can only be sheer laziness. This is a juicy, sure-fire display vehicle that effectively digests the slashing rhythmic effects of early Stravinsky, intense Bartókian melodic lines, and a harmonic romanticism via Alban Berg. There's nothing especially original about this spicy, eclectic stew, but the music's racy vitality and the easy security of the young composer's manipulation of his materials are dazzling. Wolfgang Schneiderhan has been playing the piece for years and it's good to have his colorful, big-toned interpretation on disc at last.
The brilliantly played accompaniment and DGG's flawless engineering leave nothing to the imagination.
The Ode is quite a different sort of piece. Each of its five movements are presumably meant to interpret the five stanzas of Shelley's poem (the one that concludes with the familiar optimistic observation, "If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind ? "). Here Henze is wearing his avant-garde hat-or at least what seemed fashionably avant-garde in 1953.
The large orchestra is used in a chamber-like fashion, supplying pointillistic dabs of color around the solo cello which declaims, sings, and occasionally simply meanders through a maze of Webernesque gestures. Although Henze manages to sustain interest with his flair for sensuous orchestration and his clever development of rhythmic patterns, the work seems to stand still--certainly it bears very little relation to the fantasy and vibrant imagery of Shelley's words. One can now see why the composer never proceeded further in this direction for he hardly appears comfortable working in the idiom. Again, the performance is a fine one, and Siegfried Palm surmounts the difficult solo part with ease, drawing as much expression from the music as he possibly can. P.G.D.
MAHLER: Symphony No. 1, in D. Philadelphia Orchestra, Eugene Ormandy, cond. RCA Red Seal LSC 3107, $5.98. Tape: RK 1133, $6.95.
The division between the Mahler cult and Mahler scholarship is clearly evident in the present state of the First Symphony.
What the cultists want to hear is a five-movement Symphony No. 1 with a double exposition in the opening movement. This, they feel, is the real McGustay. The scholar must protest that Mahler, in twenty-five years as a conductor and composer of increasing reputation, did not follow these performance practices. Although the double bars for the repeat appeared in the printed score, there is reliable contemporary evidence that Mahler did not observe them in his own later performances. Moreover, the Blumine movement (second in the original sequence of the score) was propped after 1894 and there is no evidence that Mahler wanted it restored.
Even if, as a young composer, he had been forced into this decision, he could in later years have changed his mind (as he changed his mind about many other things). The significant fact is that he didn't. I therefore insist that the Symphony in the four-movement form of the Gesellschaft edition of 1967 should be regarded as representative of the composer's final thought about the design of this work. If the cultists are going to try to force performers and recording artists to restore the form of 1894, what we may need is a society to protect Gustav Mahler from his admirers; or, as the saying goes, with friends like this, who needs enemies? I do not mean that an occasional performance or recording of the five-movement form is to be condemned.
Quite the contrary, especially if the results are of the level that Ormandy achieves here. What I insist is that this should not become a new critical paradigm for the performance of this work.
The Bhuuine movement was initially recorded on Odyssey by the New Haven Symphony in an album that, for the first time, permits the American record collector to see the woodcut that provided visual inspiration for the mock funeral march. Not surprisingly, the Philadelphia performance is somewhat juicier than that from New Haven, but the price is also higher, and some may prefer the more reserved interpretation of conductor Frank Brieff, which is perfectly satisfactory musically.
---------- Eugene Ormandy projects Mahler with melting emotionalism
und eloquence.
The budget-minded Mahler collector is thus still justified in combining the Odyssey disc with one of the fine older versions of the score (Solti or Walter) or simply sticking with New Haven all the way. The recording is technically unspectacular, but adequate.
Ormandy projects the mauve decade romanticism of the Blumine movement through the entire work, with melting emotionalism in the trio of the (now renumbered) third movement and the most completely prettified hunter's funeral I can recall. (It's supposed to be ironic-Mahler never left any doubts about that.) The first movement (with a single statement of the exposition) is remarkable for the quality and energy of the ensemble—playing, but the style is highly emotional. Here, and in the finale, one is obliged to think of a remark by the late Hans Rosbaud, that Mahler must "sound Austrian." Ormandy's passions, though eloquent, appear to be geographically misplaced.
Thus the primary strengths of the recording are its consistency, making it the ideal choice for anyone who wants to see Mahler from this viewpoint, and its flattering sound which, perhaps more than any other recent RCA set, justifies the return to the Academy of Music and shows that the engineers are learning to work successfully in that environment.
R.C.M. MENDELSSOHN: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, in E minor, Op. 64.
TCHAIKOVSKY: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, in D, Op. 35. Pinchas Zukerman, violin; New York Philharmonic, Leonard Bernstein, cond.; London Symphony, Antal Dorati, cond. For a feature review of this recording, see page 91.
MOZART: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, No. 3, in G, K. 216.
CHAUSSON: Poeme for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 25. Jacques Thibaud, violin; Lamoureux Orchestra, Paul Paray and Eugene Bigot, cond. For a feature review of this recording, see page 91.
MOZART: Symphony No. 40, in G minor, K. 550.
SCHUMANN: Symphony No. 4, in D minor, Op. 120. London Symphony Orchestra, Antal Dorati, cond. Mercury SR 90511. $5.98.
The Mozart performance here may well be a reissue of the recording paired with Haydn's Farewell Symphony and issued several years ago. (A still older Dorati reading, with the Minneapolis, was available in pre-stereo days coupled with Mendelssohn's Italian.) Whether new or remastered, the present performance retains its distinction: Dorati has seldom done such distinguished work for the phonograph. This is not a G minor bursting with such molten passion and energy as, say, the recent Casals, nor is it a completely solemn, melancholy statement either. Dorati strives for straightforward, unaffected delicacy and achieves his quest with notable success. The first movement is rather moderate in tempo and neatly pointed. The slow movement flows gravely and quietly and the minuet, taken at an unusually jaunty clip, is mercurial and almost understated. In the finale, Dorati observes the repeat of the opening section. Beecham, in his old London Philharmonic version, pursued a similar path, if memory is accurate. So does Benjamin Britten, whose recent London disc has the questionable virtue of containing every last repeat-even the one in the second movement. I most admire a passionate, emotional G minor myself, such as the Casals, the Turnovsky (Crossroads), the Furtwängler (Odeon), or the long-vanished Toscanini 78s. But in its own class. I think that Dorati's smoothly, brightly reproduced disc is preeminent.
The over-side Schumann is completely new and, alas, rather perfunctory. Dorati, to be sure, gets good playing from his forces, but his broadly accented reading is a bit square and prosaic. Must his phrasing in the first movement be so cut and dried? And couldn't that little violin solo in the central part of the second section have been shaped with greater allure and poetry? Dorati also earns a black mark in the coda of the finale by slowing down at the point where Schumann has clearly indicated schneller; indeed, Dorati virtually halves the tempo here, and completely nullifies any sense of cumulative exhilaration. I also felt uncomfortable with Dorati's exceedingly brisk tempo for this last movement: it creates a rather disjointed effect after the broad, almost cumbersome speeds adopted in the earlier portions of the score. The reproduction is quite smooth and very clear-but I found the string tone a bit scraggly and lacking in nuances for such a romantic work.
H.G. PAGANINI: Concertos for Violin and Orchestra: No. 1, in D, Op. 6; No. 2, in B minor, Op. 7. Shmuel Ashkenasi, violin; Vienna Symphony, Herbert Esser, cond. Deutsche Grammophon 139424, $5.98. Tape: n L 9424, 7 1/2 ips, $7.95.
There's no mistaking the fact that Shmuel Ashkenasi has what it takes to render Paganini as writ: superb bow control, a sweet tone, fine intonation, a formidable left hand. The trouble is he tends to put too much into this music.
Paganini is so heavily seasoned as it is that an overdose of rubato, a bit too much portamento in the lyric passages, an even slightly overwrought rhythmic emphasis, and you've tipped the scales into sheer camp. I found this occasionally happened in Concerto No. 1 (that second theme really can touch the heart if it is allowed to sing in a simple kind of way); Concerto No. 2 offers less temptation along these lines, and seemed much less self-conscious.
Meanwhile, though Paganini may be slighted here and there. Ashkenasi himself comes through as the master of almost any technical challenge that is put before him, and the Vienna Symphony provides exceptionally clean, crisp, and well-balanced accompaniments.
S.F. PALESTRINA: Veni sponsa Christi (antiphon, motet, and Mass); Hymnus in Adventu Del; Jesu rex admirahilis; Exultate Deo; Tua Jesu Dilectio; Magnificat VI toni. Choir of St. John's College, Cambridge, George Guest, cond. Argo ZRG 578, $5.95.
Palestrina's Missa Veni sponsa Christi is called, in musicological parlance, a parody Mass, a work based on a pre existent polyphonic composition-in this case the composer's own motet. As this mutet, in turn, draws its melodies from the original Gregorian antiphon kepi sponsa Christi, we have the opportunity here of seeing this charming and simple melody grow into a complex and wonderful organism before our very eyes-or more properly ears-tor Argo presents the antiphon, the motet, and finally the Mass in that order. The effect of organic expansion is heightened by the parody technique of the Mass itself. The initial Kyrie quotes the motet model almost vernatim, while in later movements Palestrina expands each of the themes by skillful contrapuntal spinning, creating a larger and more elaborate web. The variety of treatment within the very limited confines presented by the original material is amazing. Each movement, for example, opens with the same melodic motive from the beginning of the antiphon and the motet, but in the Gloria this takes the form of a jaunty duo, while an open blend of luminous sound supports the Sanctus.
Palestrina's real masterpieces were his Masses, but he was such a consummate musician that everything he wrote shows the finished touch of a craftsman. His hymn settings (three are included here) are the equal of Dufay's in their exquisite simplicity. Lxultote Deo is a joyous motet of somewhat subdued brilliance compared to other contemporary settings-Palestrina never sought to rival the more outspoken emotion of composers like Lasso or Victoria. The Magnificat, one of Palestrina's thirty-five essays in that form, is a well-made work but perhaps the least interesting item on this release. The alternate plainsong verses, however, add a note of variety.
George Guest is a masterful conductor of this repertoire. 1 commented some time ago on the extraordinarily expressive singing he elicited from the Choir of St. John's College, Cambridge, on their recording of the Victoria Requiem. Although Palestrina's style precludes the choir's emotional approach on that earlier release, the purity of tone and musical sensibility of the ensemble are still unsurpassed. 1 have only one complaint: Argo has supplied a beautiful-sounding disc complete with notes, texts, and translations but encased in a flimsy paper wrapper-as if no one would want to keep this marvelous package for more than a few months. S.T.S.
Riley, various instruments. Columbia MS 7315. $5.98.
Poppy Nogood and the Phantom Band is one of the season's masterpieces. It is a long work for soprano saxophone and electric organ, both presumably played by Riley, but not, presumably, all at once. He is a great virtuoso on the soprano saxophone, which he plays like no one else in the world-with a big, full-bodied tone and astonishing nimbleness.
Here it has a sustained, quavery, somewhat Oriental sound; the tarogríto which inspired so much of Bartók must have sounded like that, but nothing in Hungarian music could he much like the solid wall of tone with which Riley's electric organ backs up his saxophone.
Few things on records make so impressive a case for the composer as performer as this grand, solid, somber score.
A Rainbow Curved in Air is less impressive. It takes its title from a poetic vision of the future, apparently by Riley himself. It is a hippie version of The Big Rock Candy Mountain, and it is for electric organ, electric harpsichord, rock-sichord, dumbec, and tambourine, once again all played by Riley. (What is a rocksichord and what is a dumbec?) The optimism of the poem dictates a fabric very much--and somewhat monotonously--major in mode and harmony, and the color of the electronic instruments is all on the artificial side. This is plastic music; it's just too good to be true.
A.F. SCHARWENKA: Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, No. 1, in B flat minor, Op. 32. BALAKIREV: Reminiscences of Glinka's Opera "A Life for the Tsar."
MEDTNER: Improvisation, Op. 31, No. 1. D'ALBERT: Scherzo, Op. 16, No. 2. Earl Wild, piano; Boston Symphony Orchestra, Erich Leinsdorf, cond. For a feature review of this recording, see page 87.
SCHOENBERG: Chamber Symphony, Op. 9; Variations for Orchestra, Op. 31. Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, Zubin Mehta, cond. London CS 6612, $5.98.
Now that we have five recordings of Schoenberg's First Chamber Symphony in its original fifteen-instrument version, perhaps someone will turn his attention to Opus 9b, the composer's own rescoring for full orchestra. The problems of balance in the first version--string quintet against eight winds (including two horns)--are serious, and the later version not only simplifies these, but gives the entire work a larger and more comfortable dynamic range.
In any case, Mehta's performance adds very little to our knowledge of the original, except to underline, by negative example, the extreme importance of really precise ensemble and accurate intonation. It isn't very well recorded, either-a dull and woolly sound, quite uncharacteristic of London's usual product.
The full orchestra sound, as recorded in the Variations, is different, but not much better; these complex textures require much more focus. I don't care much for this aimless, rather fuzzy performance; Craft's is distinctly preferable, even if his orchestra is undermanned.
Perhaps Vox / Candide will let us have the Rosbaud radio tape on German-Wergo 60013 which, although not really well recorded, does show a firm grasp of the piece's long line. These two works are very important, but nothing less than superlative playing and persuasive interpretation will convey this to the asyet-unconverted.
D.H. SCHUBERT: Lieder-See Schumann: Frauenliebe und Leben, Op. 42.
SCHUBERT: Symphonies: No. 8, in B minor, D. 759 ( "Unfinished "); No. 9, in C, D. 944; Overtures: Die Zwillingsbrüder, D. 647; "In the Italian Style," in D, D. 590; "In the Italian Style," in C, D. 591; Alfonso and Estrella, D. 732. Menuhin Festival Orchestra, Yehudi Menuhin, cond. Angel S 36609 and S 36626, $5.98 each.
Menuhin crowns his recorded cycle of the Schubert symphonies with an attractive account of the Great C major. We are given none of the perversities of pace and accent that mar Furtwangler's account; tempos are not only rather brisk in the Toscanini manner, they also (like Toscanini's) intelligently relate different sections and transitional passages one to the other: And if you're dubious about hearing this heroic work performed by a chamber orchestra, I can assure you that the forces here, while not overly large, are by no means puny. I doubt if Bruno Walter's final Columbia Symphony version used any larger complement of players. Menuhin's prevailing blend of classical purity and easygoing yet precise technical discipline rather reminds me of Kubelik's fine, bygone edition with the Royal Philharmonic.
Menuhin's Unfinished shares with the excellent Klemperer an observance of the first movement repeat. His reading is clean limbed, moderately paced in the first movement, and rather brisk in the second. While there is less vibrant drama and ferocity than one finds in the magnificently impassioned Casals account recently issued by Columbia in its "Music from Marlboro" series, the beloved melodies sing here in a lyrical, unfettered fashion. The four rarely heard overtures on Side 2 are agreeable makeweights: Die Zwillingsbriider is particularly inventive and convincing.
Now that Maestro Menuhin has recorded all of the "standard" Schubert symphonies, dare we hope that he will see fit to give us a much needed up-to-date record of the attractive and utterly neglected Symphony No. 7, in E, orchestrated by Felix Weingartner?
H.G. SCHUMANN: Concerto for Cello and Orchestra, in A minor, Op. 129.
TCHAIKOVSKY: Variations on a Rococo Theme, Op. 33; Pezzo Capriccioso, Op. 62. Maurice Gendron, cello; Vienna Symphony, Christoph von Dohnanyi, cond. World Series PHC 9114, $2.98.
Schumann's sole concerto for cello has never enjoyed the adulation and respect accorded his Piano Concerto. Yet it is an agreeable opus, imbued with a ripe and free lyricism that is quite remarkable in the light of the composer's frightening and sorrowful insanity at the time of the work's composition. The second movement is top-drawer Schumann in its beautifully articulated, introspective song-fulness.
Cellist Gendron is second to none in his ability to make the cello sing; one is always moved rather than merely "impressed" by his lyrical playing and ever-present warmth of conception. These executant qualities are tailor-made for the emotional demands of Schumann's Concerto and, not surprisingly, Gendron's performance is entirely winning. In its utterly nonaggressive way (and here Starker represents the antithetical approach) Gendron has placed this Concerto in its most attractive perspective: here is an honesty and unaffected flow of sentiment that can't fail to enchant.
Tchaikovsky's fine set of variations and the Pezzo Capriccioso are treated similarly, and once again the results are rewarding. Gendron produces an endearingly lovely tone and ties the seven variations together as one heartfelt sigh.
Even in the final bustling codalike variation Gendron's deft and light finger-work serves to bolster the song element rather than the virtuoso writing.
The sound is pleasant though definitely not of the demonstration record variety. Surfaces are OK. S.L.
SCHUMANN: Frauenliebe und Leben, Op. 42.
SCHUBERT: Lieder. An die Musik, Lachen und Weinen, Die Forelle, Seligkeit, Frühlingsglaube, Heidenriffslein, Ave Maria, Liebhaber in allen Gestalten. Teresa Stich-Randall, soprano; Robert Jones, piano. Westminster WST 17160, $5.98.
Teresa Stich-Randall's voice has taken on a darker coloration with the years, and her performance of the Schumann cycle benefits from it. Avoiding the extremes of twittering detachment or lugubrious over-immersion, she steers a middle course, never less than completely poised, yet always committed. Throughout her career, Miss Stich-Randall's trademark has been one of formidable refinement, in the artistic sense as well as in her almost uncanny intonation. This serves her well in the more introspective Schumann work, which she illumines with a well-considered variety of dynamic gradations.
But in the freewheeling innocence of the Schubert songs, something is lost in such an approach. Spontaneity, extroversion, a sense of freshness: all of these must be conveyed if we are to get anything from another hearing of Die Forelle or Seligkeit. Instead, Miss Stich-Randall indulges far too much in over-refined warbling. The vocal technique itself becomes a bit distracting when, in her leaps to the upper register, she produces a squeezed canary-like sound quite different from the tone she had employed on the previous note.
Unlike the singer, pianist Robert Jones proves unmusical on both sides of the record. His fault, that of brittle inexpressiveness, is almost ruinously incongruous with the subtlety and restrained passion of the soprano's Schumann. J.H.
SCHUMANN: Symphony No. 4, in D minor, Op. 120-See Mozart: Symphony No. 40, in G minor, K. 550.
SHCHEDRIN: The Humpbacked Horse: Second Suite. Bolshoi Theater Orchestra, Algis Zuraitis, cond. Melodiya/ Angel SR 40106, $5.98.
Although Shchedrin's first ballet was not staged until the 1959-60 season, it was composed in 1955-the year of the gifted young composer's graduation from the Moscow Conservatory. As might be expected from his later sensational Carmen Ballet, this first recorded representation of the. earlier work is most remarkable for its highly imaginative and colorful instrumentation. The thematic materials are considerably less distinctive, to be sure, but Shchedrin never seems to lack for at least usable ideas; and while, like most brilliant orchestrators, he often relies too heavily on effects, his consistently animated and evocative score commands the attention, and obviously must be theatrically arresting when staged. Less controversial than the Shchedrin-Bizet Carmen disc (which I reviewed just a year ago in these pages), the present release should please not only balletomanes but a more general audience. Its strictly musical qualities are persuasively enhanced by Zuraitis' fine performance, the admirably transparent stereo recording, and jacket notes which tell the charming story of the ballet in some detail. R.D.D.
SOR: Etudes for Guitar (24). Narcisco Yepes, guitar. Deutsche Grammophon 139364, $5.98.
This disc is a good representation not only of Sor's art but of Yepes'. The performances are poised, shapely, serene, straightforward, totally accurate. Yepes doesn't go in much for color, and in general he understates, not out of timidity but out of confidence. He doesn't generate the excitement of John Williams, who has recorded many of these same etudes for Westminster, but he deserves respect. He also gives a goodly amount of pleasure. Sor explored all kinds of guitaristic problems, at least the problems that arose within his classical framework. and there is a soothing fascination in following this item-by-item display of rocking accompaniments, running double stops, chordal progressions, and jaunty march tunes, punctuated-very occasionally-by a little burst of fireworks.
DGG makes a mistake in not telling us something about the monster eleven-string guitar Yepes is tuning in the cover photo. It is an instrument he has, developed himself with certain practical advantages in mind, but what they are, we are left to guess. S.F.
STRAUSS, R.: Tod nd Verklärung, Op. 24.
WAGNER: Siegfried Idyll. San Francisco Symphony, Pierre Monteux, cond. RCA Victrola VICS 1457, $2.98.
When Pierre Monteux died in 1964 he left a number of unreleased recordings including two with the San Francisco Symphony, the orchestra he led with distinction for seventeen seasons ending in 1952. The Wagner was issued some months ago as Side 2 of the Monteux / London Symphony disc of the Beethoven Fourth Symphony, but the Strauss is new to the catalogue. Moreover, it is the only representation of that composer in the Monteux discography, a strange state of affairs for a conductor who performed this part of the literature so well and for so many years.
Whether you want to regard it as a bargain, pure and simple, or a historic set of uncommon appeal, the maître's last word from San Francisco is a particularly eloquent illustration of how well a French conductor can play German music. The Strauss is impassioned and achieves a sense of nobility in the final pages rather than the romantic hokum some performances offer. Baby Siegfried is serenaded in loving strains that suggest an affectionate grattdpère is in charge. The sound of both recordings is thoroughly acceptable for the early Fifties, providing a strong sense of presence. For the many to whom memories of Pierre Monteaux will always be evocations of great nights in the concert room, this is a legacy to be cherished. R.C.M.
TCHAIKOVSKY: Quartet for Strings, No. 1, in D, Op. 11.
BORODIN: Quartet for Strings, No. 2, in D. Drolc Quartet. Deutsche Grammophon 139425, $5.98. Tape: MI L 9425, 7 1/2 ips, $7.95.
This is the Tchaikovsky Quartet-with the Andante cantabile-just as the Borodin is the one with the Notturno. Both movements, Stokowskiized for string orchestra, have long led independent lives apart from the larger work in which they were first cast. However, in both cases the composer's ideas seem to be best expressed in their original quartet form.
Stereo versions of the Borodin are not scarce, but this is the only two-channel edition of the Tchaikovsky currently available.
Hearing this music as the Drolc Quartet plays it, one is reminded that the Borodin was harmonically adventurous for its day; this music gives a convincing testimonial to the potential of its composer, had he been able to borrow more time from science for music.
Tchaikovsky, in contrast, was always more academic and professional, although there is a youthful freshness and charm to this quartet that is rare in his later music. (The work falls chronologically between the first two symphonies.) The Drolc performances are extremely well recorded and reveal a stylistic balance that makes good use of the Russian flavoring in the material without the self-consciousness and exaggeration of an artificial Slavic manner. The over-all refinement of the playing and the sensitive, well-polished phrases are the hall-marks of a first-class group performing music with both mastery and respect.
R.C.M. TCHAIKOVSKY: Variations on a Rococo Theme, Op. 33; Pezzo Capriccioso, Op. 62-See Schumann: Concerto for Cello and Orchestra, in A Minor, Op. 129.
VIVALDI: Sonatas for Lute and Continuo: in C; in G minor-See Bach: Trio Sonatas: No. 1, in E flat, S. 525; No. 5, in C, S. 529.
WAGNER: Siegfried Idyll-See Strauss, R.: Tod und Verklärung, Op. 24.
WEBER: Der Freischütz. Birgit Nilsson (s), Agathe; Erika Köth (s), Aennchen; Elisabeth Hellman (s), First Bridesmaid; Hildegard Steinmeier (s), Second Bridesmaid; Nicolai Gedda (t), Max; Wolfgang Anheisser (b), Ottokar; Jürgen Förster (b), Kilian; Walter Berry (bs-b), Caspar; Franz Crass (bs), Hermit; Dieter Weller (bs), Cuno; Wolfgang Büttner (speaker), Samiel; Chorus and Orchestra of the Bavarian State Opera, Robert Heger, cond. Angel SCL 3748, $17.96 (three discs).
For an opera so seldom seen on U.S. stages, Der Freischütz has been more than generously treated by the record companies, and this new Angel release enters a crowded field. The performance is a strong one and only seriously challenged by EMI's own earlier version, at one time available complete on three imported Odeon pressings and now readily at hand, but without the dialogue, on two Seraphim discs. Much of the credit for the new album's excellence goes to veteran conductor Robert Heger.
This is a weighty, lush, romantically expansive, almost Wagnerian reading; it's quite similar to the one recently offered by Von Matacic on Everest but far more persuasively brought off. Heger paces the score in a leisurely fashion without losing the dramatic pulse, and the exceptional orchestral playing fully justifies his lingeringly affectionate approach-the velvet-textured strings, plump and mellow brass, dewy-fresh woodwinds all blend into a rich, well-balanced instrumental ensemble. Joseph Keilberth also gets excellent results in the Odeon/ Seraphim set: this is a leaner, more tautly conceived performance, but equally convincing in its fashion.
Perhaps Angel's biggest vocal surprise is Walter Berry's Caspar. While this difficult role ideally requires a flexible black bass on the order of a Kipnis, Berry compensates for his lighter bass-baritone timbre with effortlessly produced and ringing high F sharps and a secure, agile coloratura that easily negotiates the flights and flourishes of his "Sclnreig,' schweig' " aria. Furthermore, Berry leaves no doubt about who the villain is here in his venomous projection of the music and spoken dialogue. A splendid performance all told, and quite the best I've ever heard in the role.
Gedda, too, surpasses expectations.
Sometimes this tenor can sound rather bland and unconcerned, but not here. He fully captures Max's bitter frustration and only an occasional strained phrase mars his finely judged, elegant musical performance. Even when he seems to be a bit over-parted in the role's more desperate moments, Gedda's singing is far and away preferable to the rather beefy tenorizing one hears on the rival recordings. Odeon /Seraphim splurged by casting Hermann Prey and Gottlob Frick as Ottokar and the Hermit, but Angel has also done well by these brief yet important roles. Wolfgang Anheisser, a name new to me, sings Ottokar's few lines with a resonant high baritone of impressive quality, and the Hermit, who can easily degenerate into a sermonizing bore, benefits enormously from Franz Crass's appealing, benign bass.
---------------- Walter Berry-a venomous projection of the evil
Caspar in Weber's Freischütz.
The ladies pose something of a problem and it's here, I feel, that EMI's earlier version with Elisabeth Grümmer (Agathe) and Lisa Otto (Aennchen) has the edge. Nilsson does not really seem comfortable as Agathe for all her careful phrasing and fine pointing of the text. She attempts to scale her heroic soprano down to more intimate proportions but the limpid legato and creamy tone so beautifully conveyed by Grümmer in "Leise, leise" and "Und ob die Wolke" simply elude her. Of course when the music allows Nilsson to open up, as in "All' meine Pulsen schlagen," the effect is quite thrilling. Still, for this retiring, virginal character one wants a softer, more pliant lyric soprano in the Rethberg /Lehmann tradition. Erika Köth is bright-eyed and charming as Aennchen, although her tone occasionally turns hard and wiry above the staff.
Angel's engineering yields a rich, vibrant acoustic with slightly less presence than the brilliantly recorded Odeon/ Seraphim set; the more distant perspectives are wholly appropriate, though, for they permit Heger's large-scale approach plenty of room to expand and luxuriate.
Some of the more elaborate production effects of the earlier recording have been dispensed with here (such as the thud of the dead eagle shot by Max in Act I or the noises accompanying the casting of the magic bullets), but there's enough chatter from the townsfolk and stereo movement to give the performance a lively sense of theater. The dialogue has been pruned but not severely, and the omission of the short spoken scene between Caspar, Max, and the three huntsmen that opens Act III is hardly a crippling factor.
Since the Odeon Freischütz is now all but unobtainable, Angel's complete, well-recorded version is definitely the one to have. Still, for its special musical merits and especially Grümmer's matchless Agathe, Seraphim's budget-priced, albeit dialogueless, edition of the Odeon set should be sampled by anyone who loves this ever-fresh opera. P.G.D.
WEILL: Kleine Dreigroschenmusik.
PROKOFIEV: Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, No. 5, in G, Op. 55. John Browning, piano (in the Prokofiev); Boston Symphony Orchestra, Erich Leinsdorf, cond. RCA Red Seal LSC 3121, $5.98.
A recording of Weill's Suite from the Three-Penny Opera has been urgently needed since the recent deletion of the Angel version conducted by Klemperer.
Leinsdorf takes quite a different view of the music than did his predecessor: he never lets you forget that this is essentially light music. The former Boston maestro presents the Overture in a brisk. very staccato, scherzando fashion, and throughout. his instrumentalists (all mentioned by name on the record jacket ) furnish gleaming, polished sonorities and brightly defined ensemble. Some of the livelier movements (The Song of the Big Guns Charleston, especially) go at a terrific clip, and the whole enterprise is done, as Toscanini used to say, with smile." Klemperer, on the other hand, indulged in much more poker-faced humor. His unrelentingly accented Overture emphasized how very much like Stravinsky's Histoire du soldat that piece can sound; throughout the score, in fact, the low-keyed, slightly stiff-jointed approach to the cabaret rhythms made for a raspy, slightly uncouth effect that one imagines Weill had in mind.
If both records were still readily available, I myself would choose the Angel, even though Klemperer omitted the Anstatt doss song included in the Leinsdorf presentation. Both approaches, however, are valid and well executed.
Prokofiev's last Piano Concerto was given its world premiere in 1932 amid the same festering German atmosphere that had spawned the Weill / Brecht score a few years earlier. The conductor was Wilhelm Furtwängler and the soloist, of course, was the composer himself.
It is a difficult score to hold together convincingly, but John Browning succeeds. As in his other Prokofiev concerto performances (the present record completes the cycle), the American pianist understates lyricism and color, and strives for as lean and classical a statement possible. He is less percussive and fiercely brittle than Lorin Hollander ( RCA. also with Leinsdorf and the BSO), less fuzzy around the edges than Samson François (Angel), and less oppressively Teutonic than Alfred Brendel (Turnabout). But to my mind, Sviatoslav Richter (DGG) remains supreme in this music. The Soviet virtuoso obtains a wealth of nuance and color, plus a degree of playful humor, sardonic wit, and sheer lyricism that make his well-recorded performance a treat. With all due respect to the present team, the Browning 'Leinsdorf collaboration is not in the same league. H.G.
XENAKIS: Herma-See Jolas: Quatuor II.
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(High Fidelity)
Also see: Classical Records Review ( Apr. 1977)-- Marriner's Messiah, Davis' Dvorak, etc.
Monteverdi's Magnificent Musical Drama