On paper, this album by New York City-based chamber orchestra The Knights looks like a goer. Each piece – apart from Bach’s Concerto for Violin and Oboe, which is the genuine article – riffs off re-imagined ideas of the Concerto Grosso: a small body of soloists co-existing against the firepower of an orchestra. The Knights are musicians on a mission. Describing themselves as “an orchestral collective dedicated to transforming the concert experience”, the first thing to go is a conductor and I wonder if the pressure to count like crazy is why the Bach is taken at such a stampeding tempo? Stravinsky’s Dumbarton Oaks fares better. But the group’s homogenised, pile-driver tone makes you wish for a hint of whimsy, vulnerability even. Steve Reich’s Duet for Two Violins and Strings transforms the concert experience into extreme tedium: this is one of Reich’s most casually note spun and generic scores, not helped by the glutinous recorded sound. A concerto for santur, violin and orchestra cobbled together by Colin Jacobsen (a santur being a Persian dulcimer) is episodic. The collectively composed …the ground beneath our feet, anchored around a ground bass borrowed from Baroque composer Tarquinio Merula is the final hurrah, but…

The rapport between the two musicians is highly effective, and probably the standout of the disc.

Prior to the recorded age, composers made piano transcriptions for a number of reasons. In the case of Gustav Mahler, transcriptions were presented to orchestral organisations and musicians who had expressed an interest in presenting one of his densely contrapuntal vistas to their audiences. To such a purpose, his popular Resurrection Symphony, which took the composer six years to write, has given birth to two such arrangements including one for piano duet by Mahler’s disciple and specialist, Bruno Walter in the latter years of the 19th century. A third, perhaps more satisfying approach was taken by Heinrich von Bocklet after the composer’s death and it is this which receives its discographic premiere in this excellent Melba release. It does take the ear a while to readjust to this more intimate and chamber-like impression, but here we have four pianists aiming towards a single and coherent performance, rather than having to bypass the often egocentric excesses involving a conductor and orchestral forces, thereby honing in on Mahler’s actual intents. The hushed, otherworldly quality of Urlicht seems appropriately lit from within, though the finale’s choral outburst may lack a little in power. However, all in all, here is an excellent guide towards understanding this great emotional work with even greater insight. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

It’s always a coup when two internationally renowned soloists come together to play chamber music.

Each chapter in Peter McCallum’s fascinating and informative history of the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, in this, its centenary year, feels like a movement in a musical suite. That’s not to say McCallum’s language is especially florid or poetical, or that his voice rings off the page; indeed, McCallum, Associate Professor at the Conservatorium and Chair of the Academic Board of the University of Sydney, prefers the clear, level tone of the academic who knows how to write well for a general audience. As a regular music critic for The Sydney Morning Herald, you could say he gets his daily practice. No, it’s more that each chapter has an individual flavour and character, which the various personalities, shifting fortunes and changing fashions impart as unifying themes or motifs. The result is a more than highly readable account of an important part of Australia’s cultural heritage. One could go so far as to say it has helped define us as a nation. First, there is the unique nature of the Conservatorium’s original building – converted stables dating from 1821 which with their Gothic turrets… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Along with the many other Soviet composers who are deemed insufficiently dissident, Dmitry Kabalevsky’s reputation, despite the craft and quality of his utilitarian output, has been crushed beneath the wheels of the commie-bashing critical bandwagon so it’s high time that his serious work was reappraised. His breezy First Cello Concerto, Opus 9, is popular among today’s young players on the competition circuit, but the serious Second Cello Concerto, Opus 77, is rarely heard, and that is quite a shame. It is a warmly expressive and accessible work with a distinctive mood entirely of its own. The concerto’s brooding introduction eventually gives way to a nervous, agitated argument that has an obvious socio-political subtext with furtive glances over the shoulder. The mood carries over to the Presto marcato movement with its inevitable Russian carnival grotesqueries and interrupts the finale’s periods of calm resignation. Written in 1964, one senses in the background the dreadful possibility of Cold War apocalypse or the mundane fear of the dreaded knock on the door. Leonard Elschenbroich justifies his advocacy by digging in deep with bold, emotive gestures and precise articulation. Litton and the Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra provide a finely graded and polished accompaniment. Prokofiev’s Cello Sonata…

Well, in theory it’s a bad idea to judge a book (or a CD) by its cover, but in the case of Avi Avital’s new recording it works rather well. Set against a Venetian background, the typography of his name neatly reflects the letters in the name of Vivaldi and the two prove to be a fine match for each other. Here, Avital borrows liberally from Vivaldi’s concerti for other instruments. The mandolin’s tuning is identical to that of the violin, albeit with doubled pairs of strings, so it’s a fairly straightforward matter to transfer works across. Of the concertos, he plays the Concerto in A Minor, RV356, and the Concerto in G Minor, RV315, AKA Summer from The Four Seasons. You’d think that some of the hair-raising runs in these pieces, seemingly so effortless on the violin, would be awkward or ungainly on the mandolin, but if that’s the case Avital doesn’t show it. Particularly inspired is the inclusion of the Trio Sonata in C, RV82 (originally for violin and lute) with the combination of mandolin, lute, and basso continuo providing a charming atmosphere of convivial music making. There are some other inventive borrowings from other Vivaldi concerti, too….

This is a deeply personal collection from violinist Nemanja Radulovic. It’s an engaging mix of violin showpieces with traditional Serbian dances and film music sitting comfortably alongside short works by classical composers that take varying degrees of inspiration from Eastern European folk traditions. These include a Brahms Hungarian Dance, the Danse Russe from Swan Lake and the March from Prokofiev’s The Love for Three Oranges. Radulovic is also a great champion of somewhat neglected Georgian composer Aram Khachaturian; two of his works appear here including the famous Sabre Dance, which Radulovic plays like leaping flames. His affinity for fiery gypsy dances (there’s a lot of dancing) is clear and his playing full of passion and vigour with a raggedly emotional edge. Radulovic meanwhile is all long, wild hair, skinny black jeans and impossibly shiny boots – a compelling combination as unforced and natural as his playing.  The closing Macedonian song, Zajdi, Zajdi, Jasno Sonce, features the only vocals on the album, from the extraordinary Ksenija Milošević, a well-known Serbian violinist and singer who has made several appearances at Eurovision. It’s hard to convey in words how riveting this piece of music is; the words weep without the listener requiring any…

★★★ Carl Czerny’s piano works have been important studies for a very long time but we know almost nothing of his other compositions. Here we have four works with Czerny following the fashions of the day and making elaborate piano variations based around music from particular operas – in this case, bel canto arias from Bellini’s Norma and ll Pirata, Auber’s Fra Diavolo and Gli Arabi nelle Gallie by Pacini. They are clearly showpieces, most probably intended to be watched as well as listened to; just the thing to keep the aristocracy entertained after dinner without giving them indigestion. However, to judge by some of the musical flippancy on hand it is clear that even had there been no Beethoven, Czerny may have not amounted to much beyond his splendid piano exercises. Schumann thought his music was rubbish, and said so. The album ranges from the remarkably trivial (the Norma variations) to the delightful (Fra Diavolo) – the principal theme familiar to me from my early piano exercises as On Yonder Rock Reclining. The most thoughtful piece is the Il Pirata variations and the dullest, those from Gli Arabi. Czerny was a familiar of Beethoven, which is well and good,…

Amy Dickson shows off her astounding virtuosity in a programme of ‘local’ works for alto and soprano saxophones inspired by natural and imaginary worlds. Island Songs is one of Peter Sculthorpe’s last compositions, drawing on a mix of wartime popular song and Aboriginal chant. The first half, Song of Home, features brooding strings, shimmers of percussion and a sea of oscillating violin melodies, over which Dickson’s pure saxophone soars with a plaintive elegance. The second part, Lament and Yearning, blends Sculthorpe’s love of ancient lands with his sadness for modern climatic dangers. After the long, smooth gliding of Island Songs, Dickson harnesses an entirely different energy for Brett Dean’s Siduri Dances, managing the brutally jagged and dissonant melodic language with a vibrant ferocity. The Sydney Symphony’s strings conjure an effectively disturbing sonic environment led by Benjamin Northey (who also conducts the Sculthorpe). The multi-movement Full Moon Dances is a concerto for alto saxophone and orchestra exploring Ross Edwards’ ‘Maninya’ style with echoes of ritual music from both Western and South-East Asian cultures. Dickson’s dazzling artistry is on display throughout, in particular in the second movement, which jets forward with some unashamedly raucous and ‘ecstatic’ orchestral jiving. Here the SSO plays under the baton of Miguel Harth-Bedoya. Continue reading…

Edward Gardner continues the series he began as the newly-appointed Chief Conductor of the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra with a second volume devoted to Janácek’s orchestral works.

Gone are the days when the remote speaker options for home living resembled a small room heater and sounded like a transistor radio. Nowadays the average device is compact, good looking, and can sound as good as the next bit of hi-fi (accepting that the playback rates are determined by your phone or computer import quality or choice of streaming service). The treVolo can also be jacked into you home audio, if preferred. The BenQ treVolo is certainly small, its electrostatic speakers folding away in a unit that takes up no more table space than a couple of paperback books. It also comes with up to 12 hours powerless playing time which means it can be tucked away pretty much anywhere when you have friends over. It also has a nice bonus feature by becoming a handy speakerphone when connected to a mobile. Connection to devices is quick and easy, the Bluetooth capacity no worse than other devices (there’s the usual struggle to get through several brick walls if you move about). The sound is more than acceptable for casual listening. The treVolo’s speciality is its typically crisp electrostatic… Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe…