Fresh from her triumphant Lucia, German diva Diana Damrau stays in Donizetti territory for her latest solo album, mixed up with some Bellini, Verdi and a couple of verismo numbers for good measure. The 43 year-old has established a glowing reputation in Europe and at New York’s Met where she has become a firm favourite. This collection shows us why. Damrau’s versatility is firmly to the fore in excerpts from Donizetti’s Rosmonda d’Inghliterra and Maria Stuarda, intercut by arias from Bellini’s I Puritani and La Sonnambula, before her applauded dramatic skills are given a workout in selections from Verdi’s I Masnadieri, La Traviata and Luisa Miller. Her vocal accuracy and agility are no better displayed than in Ah! Non giunge from La Sonnambula, but it is what she does with Verdi – and favourites from La Bohème and Pagliacci – which whet the appetite of this reviewer. This is a voice full of power and beauty across the entire range, but with the additional character and buoyancy necessary for the bel canto repertoire. Damrau gets strong support from mezzo Nicole Brandolino, tenor Piotr Beczała and her husband bass Nicolas Testé. The Orchestra Teatro Regio Torino under Gianandrea Noseda has all…

Fifty years ago, the idea of “The Five Countertenors” would have been Alfred Deller, John Whitworth, Russell Oberlin and, err… Even 30 years ago a quintet of such voices would have likely encapsulated half of the known suspects. Nowadays, however, the countertenor seems almost as common as the next voice-type, its superstars are fêted on world stages and their fans are becoming as opinionated as those of rival divas from way back when. The beauty of Decca’s latest recital disc, though, is not just the presence of five of today’s finest guys who sing high, it’s an opportunity to explore repertoire in a programme where most of us would probably only be familiar with the two Handel arias (and those not that common either). Comparisons are odious as they say so I’ll begin at the beginning with Romanian-born German countertenor Valer Sabadus (pictured above) who gets a couple of stonkers: Jommelli’s catchy Spezza lo stral piagato from Tito Manlio and a superbly dark, theatrically intense aria from Gluck’s Demetrio. His silky smooth voice is high (but not the highest here) and his tone deliciously plangent. The Catalan Xavier Sabata is probably the lowest voice and the finest dramatist in the…

This is the third release in The Sixteen’s admirable exploration of Polish choral works and offers a sample of works by Grzegorz Gerwazy Gorczycki (c. 1665-1734) who lived almost all of his life in Kraków and was regarded as the outstanding composer of the Polish High Baroque. Little is known of his career before he was appointed Kapellmeister at Wawel Cathedral and all but 39 pieces from his output have been lost in the various conflagrations and upheavals that have plagued his nation. The programme opens with an arresting bugle call that promises grandeur and pomp to come but then proceeds through a selection of a cappella and vocal-instrumental pieces of increasingly soporific dullness. Gorczycki’s style was deeply conservative and even the concertante works seem 40 years out of date with few genuinely memorable ideas. The Mass in stile antico is workman-like with a few quirks in the writing that might be discerned by the attentive choral-scholar but will pass the average listener by. There are some sober beauties to be found in the Conductus Funebris and the concluding Litania de Providentia Divina so maybe this is a programme to dip into rather than wade through the whole. I cannot…

As I write, the final volume has been issued and Koopman’s latest labour of love has been completed. The job lot on 29 discs has simultaneously been released in a Buxtehude box (which of course is annoying for those of us who have meticulously collected over many years), but if you just want to dip your toe into the Master of Lübeck’s oeuvre you could do worse than pick up a single disc such as this and give it a whirl. Nothing in the series has been quite so revelatory for me as the unfailingly tuneful vocal works, most of which rarely emerge on disc. This volume comprises the usual mix of arias, cantatas and vocal-concertos, but focuses on the composer’s legendary ‘Abendmusik’ series designed to present religious texts outside of the context of church services as such. Highlights include the joyous Was Frag ich nach der Welt with its Alleluias bouncing along in gigue-time, a hummable Welt, Packe Dich with Dorothee Wohlgemuth and Miriam Feuersinger duetting delightfully on top, and an intricately varied Pange Lingua. Koopman’s flair for the improvisatory, attention to text and restoration of original keys makes for a highly engaging series of dramatic miniatures. His orchestral…

Winsome Evans and the Renaissance Players have long since proved their dedication to early music in Australia, and in this release, the fifth in a series, they bring to life the music of medieval Spain. The Cantigas de Santa Maria is a collection of poems and music in praise of the Virgin Mary, thought to have been written by King Alfonso X during the 13th century. Therein lies the rub, though – how to accurately perform music so ancient? In the liner notes, Evans argues that Spain at the time took influence from Christian, Judaic, and Islamic beliefs, and as such musical performances would presumably be influenced by the same cultures. Therefore, on this recording there’s a kaleidoscopic range of instruments including Middle Eastern percussion such as the darabuka as well as shawms, the Turkish saz, and psalteries. The resulting arrangements are colourful and inventive, with soprano Mina Kanaridis singing particularly well on the hypnotic Poi-las Figuras. Some of the tracks are a little daunting, though. Beeyto Foi o Dia (Blessed and Fortunate), concerning the birth of Mary, is nearly 25 minutes long – rather a lot of medieval Galician. It’s a fine recording, and an even more impressive bit…

Latvian Ēriks Ešenvalds is one of the latest group of non-British composers to be lionised by that most British of establishments, the Oxbridge choral scene. From 2011 to 2013 he was Fellow Commoner in the Creative Arts at Trinity College, Cambridge where he collaborated extensively with the choir. Its director, Stephen Layton perceptively describes Ešenvalds as “a compositional chameleon”. Therein lies a dilemma. Undoubtedly greatly talented and adept at bringing alive all manner of different texts, Ešenvalds’ music left me wondering where his real voice lay. His Trinity Te Deum is as grand as any other essay in that genre, while his Merton College Service is served up in attractive homophony spiced with cluster chords, but which leaves the listener thinking it could have been composed any time in the last half-century. O Salutaris Hostia starts promisingly with echoes of MacMillan but becomes cloyingly saccharine. Amazing Grace is given a treatment that would make Hollywood envious. Moving away from church music Ešenvalds becomes more original and individual. Northern Lights and his two settings of Sara Teasdale, The New Moon and Stars, suggest there is salvation beyond conformism. Needless to say, Ešenvalds has the best possible advocates in Layton and his…

Like the greatest innovators, poet and composer Guillaume Machaut (c. 1300-1377) was thoroughly versed in the language of past masters. One of the chief representatives of the medieval Ars nova and the latter-day trouvères, and renowned in his day and beyond, Machaut wove tales of courtly love, whose roots are in antiquity, with new-spun threads of startling melodic, rhythmic and harmonic originality. Decades of recordings by the Clemencic Consort, the Deller Consort and the like have in recent times immeasurably enhanced a contemporary reputation which still rests chiefly on one work, the brilliant and innovative Messe de Nostre Dame. Formed in 1988, the one-to-a-part male Orlando Consort stands with the Hilliard Ensemble in making a unique contribution to the on-going conversation with Machaut’s timeless music, of which this second volume in their complete edition for Hyperion. Where their first volume focused on the nine songs from Machaut’s masterpiece Le Voir Dit, The Dart of Love contains representatives from four genres favoured by Machaut: the ballade, the rondeau, the virelai and the motet. Availing themselves of the new performing edition The Complete Works of Guillaume de Machaut, countertenor Matthew Venner, tenors Mark Dobell and Angus Smith and baritone Donald Greig perform…

Throughout his long pianistic career, Vladimir Ashkenazy has made celebrated recordings of the music of Alexander Scriabin (1872-1915). Most notable are those of the Piano Concerto and Prometheus (with Maazel), plus his recording of the Piano Sonatas. All date from the 1980s or earlier. This new recital, made up of sets of etudes, mazurkas, poémes and various other groups of short pieces, was recorded as recently as December 2014. The works span the short-lived composer’s entire career. Although Ashkenazy is still in good shape, I find him too heavy-handed in this repertoire. The early works are modelled on Chopin and require polish, while the harmonically diffuse and mysterious late works need delicacy, which they certainly get from Horowitz or Sofronitsky. Ashkenazy shines when Scriabin comes closest to his contemporary Rachmaninov, as in the Eight Etudes, Opus 42. Barnstorming does not seem out of place here. The pianist is clearly engaged in the few miniatures that are specifically pictorial, such as the depiction of birds in the second of the Three Pieces, Opus 45. The late Vers la Flamme, in its harmonic restlessness and improvisatory form, sounds uncannily like modern jazz (no surprise that Bill Evans played Scriabin for practice). Ashkenazy…

Hyperion’s third instalment in their survey of Hungarian Ernö Dohnányi’s solo piano music explores the composer’s period of increasing professional establishment. Dohnányi’s language may be less familiar than contemporaries like Rachmaninov, Ravel, or even Scriabin, but share that early-20th-century strain of romanticism, sparkling impressionism, and the strong influence of folk music. The real treasure here is Ruralia Hungarica, a multi-movement work exploring folk material from Dohnányi’s homeland, including songs for minstrels, children and soldiers, and an energetic csárdás. Some movements feature songlike phrase structures with splashes of Debussian colour. Others adopt an almost Rachmaninov-like sense of power, with incessant chords in parallel fifths and rich dissonances. In contrast, the Three Pieces (Aria, Valse Impromptu and Capriccio) have a Chopinesque feel. The Gavotte and Musette are cute divertissements, though lacking ingenuity next to Ruralia Hungarica. The album is rounded out with virtuoso waltz arrangements of Delibes’ Nalia Waltz, and Strauss’s Schatz-Walzer and Du und Du. Martin Roscoe captures every nuance with consummate virtuosity and a flair for negotiating the shifts in mood that characterise Dohnányi’s style. The interpretation is romantic but never overdone, painting in shades that one moment suggest drama, the next serenity. A fine performance of captivating music. Continue…

The prodigiously talented Jiang Yi Lin began studies at age six, won his first competition the next year, and made his orchestral debut at ten. He’s now 27, and for his first recording has chosen a selection of works united by the concept of that which is hidden or concealed. Three Masques by Szymanowski are each named for literary figures who hid their true intentions behind literal or figurative masks. These vivid, electrifying pieces are constantly shifting, polyrhythmic studies in tonal nuance, and push the performer to “the limits of pianistic possibilities,” as Jiang puts it. Two complementary early-20th-century pieces follow: a Masque by Scriabin, which ripples and flashes for barely a minute, and a longer Masque by Debussy, a complex rendering of conflicting positions. Schubert’s Drei Klavierstücke, D946 function as a mirror to the Szymanowski, with Jiang equally at home exploring his dancing mask of sorrowful concealment. Jiang returns to the early 20th century to conclude with a piece by Cantonese composer Lü Wencheng, the title of which translates as Autumn Moon over the Calm Lake. The inspiration is West Lake in Hangzhou, near Jiang’s hometown of Shanghai, and here, he says, it’s possible to drop “one’s personal mask…

It’s reassuring that music critics wrote drivel 200 years ago. Wilhelm von Lenz, one of Beethoven’s early biographers, described the Waldstein Sonata as the pianistic equivalent of the Eroica Symphony. It gets worse: he described the Appassionata Sonata as “undoubtedly Beethoven’s darkest and most aggressive work.” Jumppanen’s readings of both are unexceptional and unexceptionable, though the finale of the Appassionata is a great deal more aggressive than that of Arrau or Barenboim. What interested me more was the Opus 10 trilogy of early sonatas, which are frequently overshadowed by the middle and late period masterpieces. Both the first and second in this opus are, on the face of it, backward-looking works, the first minus a minuet the second lacking a slow movement but, nevertheless, containing a myriad of suggestions that something marvelous is afoot. Jumppanen captures the kaleidoscopic moods of both these works, especially the Haydnesque presto of the Second. It’s in the four movement Third Sonata that we see the huge strides Beethoven had taken even within the same opus: the Largo e mesto, surely the most tragic and heartfelt of all his ‘early’ works. Jumppanen spins out the final bars here into a passage of exquisite agony, itself…

Angela Hewitt, as they used to say in old-school classical CD reviews, is currently at the peak of her pianistic powers, and having just released a well-upholstered and characteristically thoughtful recording of Bach’s The Art of Fugue now turns her attention to Franz Liszt – his sempiternal B Minor Sonata placed alongside the earlier Dante Sonata and Petrarca Sonnets. B Minor was a significant key for both Bach and Liszt, and Liszt’s mass of sound integrates fugal grandeur within a narrative framework that delights in extreme shifts of mood; harmonic non sequiturs and melodic flashbacks are glued together by rhythmic markers in the sand. With fingers expertly primed to unpick the inner workings of Liszt’s fugal writing, Hewitt is also on top of the overall trajectory of Liszt’s large-scale dramatics. Never ostentatious or showy, her mission, apparently, is to show that the B Minor Sonata adds up to more than a sequence of grandstanding set pieces. Hewitt fesses up in her booklet notes that when, in her teens, she first encountered the Sonata she came away thinking “what an awful piece,” but she enters its world with the zeal of a reformed smoker. Could some of the descending passagework near…