Editor’s Choice, Jan/Feb 2016 – Orchestral Nearly 30 years ago Simon Rattle recorded a cycle of the Sibelius symphonies in Birmingham and despite the adulation of some critics the set left others cold with their infuriating undercutting of brilliant insight with arch mannerisms. His textural clarity and bold delineation of dynamics that served him so well for Stravinsky was evident, but his tendency to prod and poke at phrasing and rhythms tended to pull the rug from under Sibelius’s carefully prepared climaxes. His latest readings bear similar traits, and while that implies a consistent point of view, he hasn’t yet convinced me, despite the glorious playing. Rehearing earlier accounts from Karajan, Kamu or Levine reminds one how different today’s Philharmoniker sounds from that of old; gone is the luxuriant plush sound with laser-like focus and bottomless reserves of tone. In its place is a lean transparency and limpid beauty of sound, but still with plenty of weight and malleable sonority. Sample the opening of the Third Symphony. It’s as cool and transparent as melt-water while the moments of hush have remarkable focus at a barely perceptible dynamic. Or… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already…

It may surprise you to learn that there were three editions of Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto: the first from 1875, the second a revision of 1879, and the third a posthumous version published in 1894. It is the latter that has been performed ever since, though it differs in many ways from the earlier versions.  Gerstein gives us the premiere recording of the 1879 version. Differences are notable, beginning with the opening, where the piano chords are arpeggiated rather than played as blocks. With the piano a kind of uber-harp, it brings the music closer to the world of Tchaikovsky’s ballet scores. This edition is a prettier work, with fewer opportunities for barnstorming. Cuts in the third movement have been opened up. Gerstein’s performance is lighter in texture than most; he and Gaffigan made this deliberate choice. At times I miss the passion and momentum of the young John Ogdon, but on its own terms this performance has integrity.  Prokofiev’s Second Concerto is similarly detailed and fluent, but occasionally cautious. The running scales of the scherzo could be more devil-may-care. In the first and third movements Gerstein’s humming proves a distraction, particularly on headphones. Why do some continue to indulge…

Editor’s Choice, Orchestral – December 2015 Andris Nelsons has intimate first-hand knowledge of growing up under the cosh of the Soviet regime. As an impressionable 12-year old in 1990 he saw his native Latvia declare independence from the Soviet Union, and among the adjustments to be made was the joyful reappearance of his ‘disappeared’ grandfather, who had spent the previous 15 years holed up in Siberia. Is it because Nelsons understands instinctively the political lunacy that shaped this composer that he can play the music of Shostakovich as opposed to allowing his interpretations to become overstacked with symbolism, metaphor and mythology? Other conductors, of course, shared comparable experiences – Rozhdestvensky, Ashkenazy and Maxim Shostakovich, the composer’s son. But how rare it is to hear Shostakovich’s musical motivation so starkly delineated which, in turn, illuminates the politics. This first installment in a projected cycle to be released with the tag ‘Under Stalin’s Shadow’, opens with a sonic emergency. Shostakovich’s 1936 opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk was the source of all subsequent bother that the composer would have with the regime. Denounced in Pravda as “petit-bourgeois formalism”, Nelsons needs you to know precisely why this music displeased The Party. The introductory chords…

Daniel Barenboim’s 1967 set of the Brahms Concertos with Barbirolli and the New Philharmonia grabbed the moment as the young pianist embarked on a voyage of discovery safe in the knowledge that his mentor was on the podium. Barenboim’s 1980s remakes with Mehta and the New York Philharmonic have always struck me as curiously unlovely; the work of two hard-nosed pros with nothing to prove, or lose.  These new recordings stand somewhere between the two, a reminder that Brahms has been as much tormentor as mentor to Barenboim. The Staatskapelle Berlin is Barenboim’s own orchestra and Gustavo Dudamel is clearly having a ball pushing levers and turning knobs that, no matter what he does, are preset to generate a stylistic Brahmsian sound. Riccardo Chailly’s Leipzig set with Nelson Freire arguably finds pliant subclauses within their comparably authentic sound; but Dudamel doesn’t put a foot wrong. Barenboim’s playing comes, of course, loaded with gravitas, but he is not immune from moments of routine. The Second Concerto’s Allegro appassionato benefits from a temporary lift as Barenboim lightens textures during the repeat. But otherwise he defaults to rather monochrome dynamics and tone. The First is more consistent. Nothing is rushed or forced during…

If you saw David Robertson’s masterful concert version of Tristan und Isolde with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra earlier in the year you would be familiar with the compelling singing of US soprano Christine Brewer in the title role. Here she is 13 years earlier in an equally powerful performance recorded live at London’s Barbican Centre under the masterful baton of Scottish conductor Donald Runnicles.  Celebrated English tenor John Treleaven is a superbly convincing Tristan and there is a great chemistry between the pair. His is a many-layered performance as our hero runs the gamut of emotions over four exhausting hours. This stellar partnership is complemented by Czech mezzo Dagmar Pecková – a star in her own right and with an asteroid named after her to prove it – as Brangane and British bass Pete Rose gives King Mark’s big aria, Tatest du’s wirklich, a finely expressive reading with his nuanced timbre. Jared Holt makes a fine Melot as well. Israeli baritone Boaz Daniel impressed as Tristan’s faithful servant Kurwenal in Sydney and he does the same on this disc. Runnicles and the BBC Symphony are in fine form – the crescendos will clear the wax out of your ears. The…

Agostino Steffani (1654-1728) set words to music as only a master linguist and singer could. His beautiful chamber duets were influential on Handel’s essays in that genre, while Steffani’s sacred music and French-influenced operas seem to grow out of the duet as a fundamental unit of composition. Steffani spent two decades working in Munich and Niobe, Regina di Tebe, composed in 1687, was his final opera for that city. Based on an episode in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Luigi Orlandi’s libretto tells the story of Queen Niobe’s downfall after being handed the regency by her husband Anfione, King of Thebes. Assailed by love and hate in equal measure – Tiberino, son of the King of Alba, wants Thebes for himself; the vengeful magician Poliferno assists lovestruck Creonte in his own ambitions for queen and kingdom – Niobe ultimately succumbs to pride and is duly punished by the gods. The music is glorious, Steffani’s adroit handling of recitative and aria matched by his generous orchestrations utilising strings, woodwinds, brass and percussion. Captured live at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, this performance conducted by Thomas Hengelbrock and featuring Véronique Gens as Niobe, Jacek Laszczkowski as Anfione, Alastair Miles as Poliferno and Iestyn Davies as Creonte…

Jacques-François Gallay was a French horn player prominent in the middle of the 19th century, inspiring one reviewer of the time to write that he “cannot conceive of the horn without M. Gallay”. Playing the natural horn takes an already complex and difficult instrument and ratchets up the difficulty several notches. Unlike the more modern, valved instrument, notes are changed by lip tension or by hand-stopping. With a minefield of intonation and projection issues to navigate, Anneke Scott performs this repertoire with astonishing ease.  However, this third volume of Gallay’s music performed by Scott doesn’t quite live up to previous discs. This has nothing to do with the playing and more to do with the music itself. Operatic fantasias are not the most substantial of genres. While they were perfect for the travelling virtuoso to show off back in the day (opera’s big tunes, combined with lots of notes!), by the time it reaches the present the music has to stand on its own. There’s an attempt to get around this issue by having soprano Lucy Crowe perform some of the original arias by Donizetti and Mercadante. While successful, they’re only a small portion of the disc. Hector Berlioz wrote…

First, it’s exciting to hear the great Philadelphia Orchestra in such fine form. It augurs well for Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s tenure. And second, Daniil Trifonov seems headed towards the “for once the hype is real” stratosphere on the strength of his first studio recording for DG. This ‘concept’ album showcases Rachmaninov works for variations, one orchestral, two for keyboard only, in which the young pianist pays homage to his musical idol. The Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini is truly sensational. This recording was made exactly 80 years after the legendary recording with the composer himself and Stokowski conducting this same orchestra. The pizzicati double bases in Variation 7 are beautifully captured but, for me, the most magical moments are Variations 11 and 12 where Trifonov’s aristocratic poise reminded me of Michelangeli (in very different repertoire) without the latter’s cold perfection.  The Chopin Variations (based on the C Minor Prelude) are rarely performed and not even Trifonov’s brilliance and insight can prevent them from outstaying their welcome. The Corelli Variations are another matter. The high points here are Variation 15, (Lullaby) which Trifonov manages to suffuse with an air of unease. The final pages are a model of hushed, haunted intensity….

Lincoln Center’s 2015 production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s 1951 musical The King and I was well reviewed. Ben Brantley in the New York Times called it “a colonialist-minded musical that… should probably embarrass us in the age of political correctness.” His contention was that it did not. I’m less certain. On disc the Overture reminds you immediately that this is Rodgers’ show. His ability to craft a memorably turned melody with unexpected harmonic underpinnings is superb. I Have Dreamed and Hello Young Lovers are masterpieces. Yet, as the songs progress, you can’t help feeling that Hammerstein’s work remains stubbornly of its time.  Kelli O’Hara sings Anna perfectly, although her English vowels are too studied. Ken Watanabe was strong as The King onstage, but makes little impression vocally. Ashley Park’s Tuptim has all the notes, but it’s a squally voice with a fast, wide vibrato; by contrast, Conrad Ricamora as her lover Lun Tha sounds very 21st-century Broadway. Ruthie Ann Mills performs Lady Thiang’s song Something Wonderful beautifully, and it’s good to hear Robert Russell Bennett’s original orchestrations. The Small House of Uncle Thomas is included, which is long and musically arid without visuals. But mainly, you can’t help feeling that…

Editor’s Choice, Opera – October 2015 Jonas Kaufmann was 21 when the Three Tenors made Nessun Dorma into the most popular aria of them all by featuring it in their 1990 concert on the eve of the FIFA World Cup Final. It’s taken 25 years for the star German tenor to put it on record, saying that for a long time he hardly dared sing it because of Pavarotti and Co’s legacy. “Even today, when I hear and sing this aria, I still get goosebumps,” he says in the liner notes to his new all-Puccini album. Well, the wait has been worth it as it makes the perfect finale to this five-star feast of the finest moments from “the people’s composer”. When Kaufmann hits the high B at the climax it’s as thrilling as anything produced by any of the other great tenors, and if you purchase the deluxe version with the bonus DVD you’ll see how happy he is when he nails it. But the stellar aria is only three minutes of what is a 16-track, hour-long roller coaster of emotion, all majestically delivered in that special timbre with its baritone shading. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from…

How gratifying it is to enjoy the fruits of this generation’s lively interest in the art song, and in particular, German lieder. Recently, Australian audiences have had the good fortune to soak up the superb artistry of Ian Bostridge and Florian Boesch, two of this era’s greatest singers. Nor should we forget that outstanding singing is only one side of the lieder equation. Splendid accompanists are also indispensable in consummating the marriage between text and music. Whilst current concert-hall performances of lieder undoubtedly bring huge musical rewards, they are obviously scaled to the performance space. With the piano often on full stick, singers are not afraid to calibrate their delivery accordingly. On the other hand, it is a pleasure to be reminded by Padmore and Bezuidenhout of lieder’s more intimate origins. The South African born fortepianist (who began his studies in Australia and is back here this year guest leading the Australian Brandenburg Orchestra) uses a sweet-toned instrument by Rosenberger from about 1820 that is the perfect complement to Padmore’s lyrical tenor. Together they explore the tentative beginnings of lieder through the works of Haydn and Mozart, amongst which we have some delightful floral references; Haydn choosing a forget-me-not and Mozart…

Once you accept music as a living, breathing language, and that there’s a big difference between restoration and renovation, you can really let your hair down and have some fun. As Concerto Caledonia’s director David McGuinness writes in the booklet accompanying this thoroughly entertaining follow-up to their equally irreverent 2011 take on Britten’s folksong arrangements Revenge of the Folksingers, “there’s almost a generally accepted international style in which to play baroque music, an idea which would have seemed preposterous in the musically diverse Europe of the 17th and 18th centuries.” As with the earlier CD, Purcell’s Revenge is based on a live gig, and Concerto Caledonia (whose lineup includes early music luminaries like recorder player Pamela Thorby and Alison McGillivray on gamba), again teams up with folk musicians. Countertenor legend James Bowman is thrown in for good measure. The repertoire ranges from arrangements of Purcell faves such as the Rondeau from Abdelazer, Sweeter than Roses and Fairest Isle to Purcell-inspired originals such as Chaney’s Cassiopeia and Silvera’s Halos. Despite mixed results – I was more convinced by Jim Moray’s electric guitar than his vocal abilities – the overall effect is intoxicating. But the highlight must be Chaney’s utterly exquisite arrangement and performance…