CD Review: Shostakovich / Weinberg Piano trios & songs (Kateryna Kasper and Trio Vivente) cpo 555367-2

The pairing of works by mentor and mentee composers can make for a good concept on record. Shostakovich and Weinberg were just two such composers; they knew each other and exchanged artistic ideas for many years. On this recording, the comparison bears fruit through the pairing of piano trios and song cycles.

Shostakovich’s First Piano Trio, from 1923, is an early work. Audibly more carefree than his later compositions, it is notable for being written in a single movement. The Trio Vivente give it a convincing reading, with the instrumental lines clearly articulated in a demonstration quality recording. There is a greater contrast of emotions to be traversed within Weinberg’s Piano Trio, written in 1945. The white-hot passions of the Prelude and Toccata might be more immediately captured in the recordings led by Gidon Kremer (DG) or Linus Roth (Evil Penguin), but Trio Vivente acquit themselves with honour nonetheless. Nowhere is this more the case than in the Trio’s Aria and Poem, which are played with sophistication.

Shostakovich sets the bar rather high with his powerful setting of Seven Romances on Verses by Alexander Blok, written in 1967. Although the instrumental accompaniment provides shades of gloominess, the vocal part is almost uniformly bombastic in nature. This, Kateryna Kasper provides in spades, whilst the Trio Vivente are attentive to the nuances inherent within the accompaniment. More vocal subtlety is evident in Weinberg’s earliest published work, the Jewish Songs, written in 1943. A collection of miniatures that is quirky yet forthright at times, they provide adroit insight to the texts set, bookended by vocalises.

If you are new to Weinberg’s music, this release could provide a way in to his absorbing sound-world, even though you might end your listening experience with the impression he wrote under Shostakovich’s shadow. For that reason alone, it is worth exploring Weinberg beyond the confines of a single recording: there are interesting things to be discovered.

CD Review: Hermann Levi Der letzte Gruss (René Perler, bass-baritone; Edward Rushton, piano) Prospero PROSP018

I have long been interested in the output of performing musicians who also composed. Think of Wilhelm Furtwängler’s symphonies and violin sonatas, or the string quartets and songs by Otto Klemperer and Artur Schnabel. Given the quality of the writing, is not always right to dismiss these works and file them under the label of ‘Kapellmeister music’.

The case of Hermann Levi is an interesting one. Although remembered for his association with Richard Wagner and as the conductor of Parsifal’s first performance at Bayreuth in 1882, in his youth he too composed music in earnest. His output is not vast; it includes a violin sonata and piano concerto as well as a clutch of songs.

Ten of the songs receive their first recordings on the present release. They reveal Levi as a composer with a fine sense of melodic line, to which he sets his chosen lyrics, which is matched in the piano accompaniments that are of a richly Romantic heritage. A couple of the songs contain nods towards the Nibelungen – a foreshadowing of the Wagnerian association to come, perhaps.  Whilst Wagner sought to exploit the boundaries of tonality, resolution and expression, Levi never approached these boundaries.

René Perler’s bass-baritone voice captures the mood of the sorrowful songs effortlessly. The briefer instances of light and humour do not escape him either. His skills as a lieder singer and exponent of lyrical poetry are used to good effect also in the selected songs by Brahms, Schumann and Herzogenberg which usefully provide some context for the Levi songs. Just occasionally does one wish that Perler varied his timbre on repeated words or phrases, as he has a tendancy towards vibratoless expression.

Perler’s accompanist, playing Wagner’s own Steinway concert grand, is Edward Rushton. He provides excellent and discretely stylish yet pointed support throughout. The tone of the instrument suits the repertoire: it is warm and characterful in the lower to mid registers and brightly penetrating in its upper reaches. The recording, made by Swiss Radio during August 2020 in the Salon at Villa Wahnfried, is quite the best I have heard made in the Villa; it presents both pianist’s instrument and singer with admirable clarity in a natural acoustic. The notes about Levi and Wagner’s piano in the opulently illustrated booklet are interesting, the texts and translations are useful additions.

Two slight quibbles spoil what would have been a positive recommendation on all fronts. First, it is a pity that Perler’s notes on Levi’s compositions are provided in French only. Second, the inclusion of four songs by Henri Duparc seems a touch odd, as these are the only non-German language items. Perhaps the intention was to have them as an example of French song writing around the time of Hermann Levi’s compositions. However, as they are placed last on the track list rather than within the programme, they sound something of an afterthought. It might have been better by far to use the time they consume to present a recording of Wagner’s Wesendonck-Lieder in their place. Given that recordings of the Wagner cycle by a bass-baritone are few, the recording location, the piano used and the working association between Wagner and Levi, surely that’s an opportunity missed. However, that said, this recording can be strongly recommended to all adventurous lovers of lieder.

CD Review: Brahms Complete Songs vol.1 (Christoph Prégardien, tenor; Ulrich Eisenlohr, piano) Naxos 8.574268

It is impossible to imagine the German lied without the contribution of Johannes Brahms. That said, in the concert hall one encounters only a narrow selection of his 204 individual songs on a regular basis. The adventurous listener who desires to gain a more complete impression of Brahms’ output might be well advised to explore this absorbing repertoire through recordings. To date, two complete sets have been issued. cpo’s 11-volume set has Helmut Deutsch as the accompanist to Iris Vermillion, Juliane Banse and Andreas Schmidt. Hyperion’s 10-volume set, each with a different singer, finds Graham Johnson at the piano. Oftentimes, Hyperion’s set presents individual songs by more than one singer to shape the recital narrative of each release. The individual volumes of both sets were well received by the music press when originally issued. Both are well recorded and continue to offer much pleasure. Against this backdrop, Naxos have embarked upon their own complete Brahms songs set. Volume 1 launches the project in admirable fashion.

The driving force behind Naxos’ series is the pianist Ulrich Eisenlohr; his previous recordings for the label include the complete lieder of Mozart and Schubert, as well as volumes of Schumann and Busoni lieder. Eisenlohr also contributes concise yet informative booklet notes. Following Naxos’ practice, texts and translations are available via their website.

This volume includes the songs of four opus numbers, written across almost 25 years. As Eisenlohr’s notes points out, the songs were often gathered together by Brahms some time after composition. The common thread is in themes that the songs explore: love, loneliness, solitude and a farewell to life.

Several of the songs in this volume suggest natural affiliations to a female voice, given the lyrics that are sung. Both the cpo and Hyperion sets reflect this in their programming, though whilst cpo group the songs under opus number as Naxos have done, Hyperion often distribute individual songs from one opus across multiple volumes of their set. The nine Lieder und Gesange, op.32, explore aspects of love in combination with the downcast emotions of his selected poet, the wonderfully named August von Platen-Hallemunde. The four songs, op.43, tell of relationships to be saved and lamented. The six songs, op.86, chart a gradual journey towards death. The five songs, op.105, have a varied emotional range.

It says much, however, for Christoph Prégardien’s skills as a lieder singer – honed through a distinguished international career – that he savours the words with intelligence. In so doing, he almost turns them into his own narrative, often utilising the subtlest emphasis of breath, timbre or shading. There is absolute security of pitch throughout and his tone possesses both gravity in the lower range and a lightness that belies his years in the upper range, to convincingly realise these interpretations and almost entirely banish thoughts of female singers in this repertoire. Prégardien’s instincts are matched at every turn by Eisenlohr’s, whose pianism possesses a depth and sonority that is entirely appropriate to realising Brahms’ intentions.

The recording, made for South West German Radio, places the voice naturally against the piano, and is of excellent quality. I eagerly await the future volumes of this series, but until they arrive, I shall continue to enjoy the discoveries that are to be made in this one. Most highly recommended!

CD Review: Enescu / Lipatti / Dinescu songs (Markus Schäfer, tenor; Mihai Ungureanu, piano) Dreyer Gaido CD21132

This release, titled Hommage à Dinu Lipatti, aims to present a new viewpoint on the great Romanian pianist. Lipatti was also a prolific composer and his output has been slowly achieving more attention. This is thanks to a few historical recordings of his piano compositions by Lipatti himself, or more recent accounts by Mario Vincenzi (Dynamic), Matei Varga (Sono Luminus). My recommendation, however, is to head straight for Luiza Borac’s 2CD set (Avie). The present release is the first time on disc for one of Lipatti’s two song cycles, presented in the context of two compatriots, George Enescu and Violeta Dinescu.

                                           

Enescu’s Sept Chansons de Clément Marot is the only work on this release to have been recorded before that is commonly available.
 
In writing notes on these songs for the Enescu Society in London, I observed that, “In 1898 Enescu’s style was still developing, but when he wrote Sept Chansons de Clément Marot a decade later it had fully matured. Having heard “a little improvised mélodie by Enescu dashed off in Fauré's class” at the Paris Conservatoire, classmate composer Charles Koechlin stated “George Enescu has an affinity with the French language that we natives might dream of.” Clément Marot (1496-1544) was a rhétoriqueur whose style combines stilted language with allegories. Enescu's genius was to take Marot’s texts and evoke a sixteenth-century French spirit without recourse to laboured pastiche, even if the piano emulates a lute occasionally. Each song possesses an individual character.” This led Enescu to claim that he thought of them as a collected set, rather than a cycle in the strict sense, as Jörg Jewanski refers to them in his notes accompanying this release.
 
There are recordings of worthy of attention going back to Enescu himself, who accompanied the Swiss-born soprano Sophie Wyss (Symposium Records 1409). Though Wyss’ occasionally unsecure pitch slightly takes away from the whole, this is balanced by the range of character and temperament that she brings to the individual songs. Enescu’s playing has a luminescent lightness of touch and varied about it that proves most involving. Canadian contralto Marie-Nicole Lemieux gives a rather more pared back reading with Daniel Blumenthal (Naïve), but her subtle vibrato is used to knowing effect. Ileana Cotrubas and Geoffrey Parsons (Chandos), Sarah Walker with Roger Vignoles (Unicorn-Kanchana) and Elena Mosuc accompanied by Sabine Vatin (Arte Nova, recorded using the composer’s own baby grand piano in Bucharest’s Enescu Museum) provide interpretations that at times seem intent in taking these songs beyond the confines of the duo form, with nods to the operatic experience of the singers concerned. The same can also be said of the recording by the Romanian baritone Dan Iordăchescu, who is partnered by Valentin Gheorghiu on Electrecord in an idiomatic reading that is dramatic yet full of vocal sensitivity. If each of these recordings miss one aspect of the set, it is that the text of each song infers suitability to either a male or female voice, as the soprano Nelly Miricioiu has observed. Perhaps a record label could seek to realise this approach one day.
 
The view taken by Markus Schäfer and Mihai Ungureanu on this latest release is markedly different from its rivals – though perhaps Marie-Nicole Lemieux is the closest to sharing their vision. Schäfer and Ungureanu remove almost every vestige of emotion from their performance, minded perhaps of the courtly propriety that shaped expressions of love in Clément Marot’s world. Rather that extrovert emotions, the focus is very much on the nuances evident within Schäfer’s voice, which is not to say that textual inferences are exploited. What is immediately evident is the evenness of tempi taken across the first four songs, which is at odds with the score and the other available versions. At times, in Estreines à Anne for example, the tempo is perhaps a touch too deliberate – Enescu livens things up considerably, as do other accompanists. The humour inflected by Dan Iordăchescu in Aux damoyselles and Changeons propos is absent. Although Schäfer and Ungureanu are convincing in other songs, their performance of Du conflict en douleur fails to fully hit the mark (well, for me at least that’s the case). Other people’s opinions may vary, and should that be the case, then that’s all to the good.
 
Regarding Lipatti’s composition style, Camelia Pavlenco has written, “His particular style brings together a mix of Romanian folklore elements, post-impressionist, neoclassical and neo-baroque echoes in a modern fusion, synchronized with the paths of his contemporaries. His music is sensitive, serene and unmistakable. Five songs on poems by Paul Verlaine, op. 9, are part of a rich thesaurus of Romanian songs written on French verses.” Maybe my lack of awareness of this repertoire inclines me to more receptive to the approach that Markus Schäfer and Mihai Ungureanu take, though the humour of Green is largely absent. The texts are projected clearly and the piano part appears one that would have suited Lipatti’s own playing style. Ungueranu’s innate understanding of Romanian musical forms such as the sorrowful doină and folk-imbued dance joc bring out much needed character in bitter-sweet longing of dor, all of which are likely to be a revelation to listeners unfamiliar with the core characteristics of Romanian repertoire.
 
The Four Melodies, previously recorded by tenor Valentin Theodorian with pianist Lisette Georgescu (Electrecord – but never available on CD), were premiered by the composer accompanying the long-lived French tenor Hugues Cuénod, whose tone was similar to Schäfer's. This set presents some of Lipatti’s most searching writing. It’s highly personal music as well, and perhaps indicates where his compositions might have ventured had he lived to write more. More than in the other set of songs, both roles are equal in their partnership; recording shows singer and pianist meeting the challenge of the work head on.

 
Violeta Dinescu’s sixteen minute long single-movement song tribute to Lipatti concludes the recital. Dinescu, like many of her compatriots, is a composer too-little-known outside Romania. Thankfully though there is a slowly growing discography of her works. In this work, the song tableau is given structure by the accompaniment – which contains its own references to the writing of Lipatti and Enescu. There is a vocal challenge in the writing, though undoubtedly the German translation of Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy helps Schäfer deliver a performance that deserves wider appreciation. As so often the case for a first recording, one wonders what other performers will eventually bring to the piece, but for now this will do very nicely.
 
The recording places Schäfer’s voice forward of Ungureanu’s piano, which given his slender, lyrical tenor tone is no bad thing. Ungureanu’s playing is captured faithfully too. With a playing time of barely an hour, so it’s a pity that more material is not provided to fill out the experience still further. Enescu’s songs on verses by Carmen Sylva, Fernand Gregh, Jules Lemaitre and Sully Prudhomme might have provided rich pickings in this regard. Although recorded by Dan Iordăchescu (Electrecord), they are still all-but-unknown outside Romania and demand wider exposure. Maybe, being an enterprising label, Dreyer Gaido could consider them for a further release. My only other quibble is that texts and translations are not included in the booklet. Fortunately, Jörg Jewanski’s note is highly descriptive of the works and incorporates some insights from the performers.
 
A few rather personal niggles aside, there's no denying the seriousness of intent behind this enterprising recording. For anyone wanting to explore some lesser-known yet finely crafted song-writing in performances that have to be taken on their own terms, this release is recommended. 

Concert review: Pauline Viardot songs and violin sonatine (Guildhall School of Music & Drama)

The French-born mezzo-soprano of Spanish origin, Pauline Viardot (1821-1910) enjoyed a varied career as an internationally renowned singer, actress, teacher and composer. During her performing career, which took her to Brussels, London, New York, Paris and Saint Petersburg, she sang 33 different operatic roles and knew many of the leading composers, several of whom dedicated works to her.

Such a career is remarkable in its own right, but when you take into account the artistic prowess of her immediate family, perhaps it was only to be expected. Her father, Manuel was a tenor; her mother Maria-Joaquína was a singer, as was her older brother Manuel. Most famous of all though was her older sister, Maria Malibran, who is particularly remembered for her interpretations of several Rossini and Bellini operatic roles.
 

[Image credit: Guildhall School of Music & Drama]

 
The excellent introductory notes to this enterprising concert at by postgraduate students at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama puts Viardot’s vocal writing in context:

“How did she obtain all these famous composers as friends and colleagues? No matter where she lived throughout her life, she held a Music Salon every Thursday evening in her home. Many composers would attend and use the soirée as an opportunity to perform their new and noteworthy works. Pauline would also have her students attend these salons. Many of these composers (Massenet, Gounod, Saint-Saëns, Fauré, and others) credit her with supporting their works and launching their careers.

Pauline composed for voice, choir, piano, chamber ensembles, and operas throughout her life. She also arranged piano accompaniments for her father’s songs and her brother-in-law’s violin studies. Since she had lived all over the world, her compositions did not centre around one specific style. She wrote songs (and was fluent) in French, German, Italian, Russian, and English. Pauline drew inspiration from her composer friends and used many texts from her literary friends. To Pauline’s disagreement, George Sand had always believed her compositions to be more important than her singing.”

This concert featured mezzo-soprano Anika-France Forget, sopranos Olivia Boen, Caroline Bourg,  Katherine McIndoe and Vladyslava Yakovenko, tenor Hidde Stobbe and baritone Thomas Litchev, variously accompanied by Spencer Klymyshyn, Feilin Liu and Mai Nakase. Instrumental items were performed by cellist Pedro Silva, violinist Joonas Pekonen and pianist Jakub Sladek.

This celebration of the bicentenary of Viardot’s birth was judiciously curated by Florent Mourier. It presented 14 song settings in French and one in German; the three movements of the Sonatine for violin and piano interspersed throughout the songs. To underline the intimate, salon nature of Viardot’s writing, the musicians seated themselves around a central piano; the singers stepping forward in turn for their songs. A standard lamp and rug adorned the Milton Court Concert Hall stage, thereby furthering the sense of domesticity that Viardot would have surely identified with.

Compositionally, it is impossible to ignore Viardot’s style which often embodies all the virtues of the bel canto – with its emphasis upon the singer’s tonal quality and breath control, married with a beauteous, unobtrusive accompaniment – that she knew only too well from her experience as a performer.

The creamy tone and carefully sustained vocal line produced by soprano Katherine McIndoe was matched by sensitively tasteful playing of Feilin Liu in the solitary item for this pairing, O, pauvre âme! Tempestuous passions enflamed both the vocal line and accompaniment of Désespoir, with soprano Caroline Bourg eventually catching the mood in her sole offering. Olivia Boen’s carefully sustained and assuredly ornamented vocal line in Chanson de la pluie was a delight and left me wanting to hear more from her.

More extensive partnerships also offered much to enjoy within this concert. Tenor Hidde Stobbe and his accompanist Mai Nakase presented three songs – his light tone and clear diction particularly suited the almost arie antiche quality of Plus d’espérance.  In a further song from this pairing, there was an almost wistful quality to Haï Luli. To Les attraits, accompanied by Spencer Klymyshyn, Hidde Stobbe brought a neo-classical quality through his elegant attention to the text.

A shaded tone pervaded the performance of the brief chanson Ici-bas tous les lilas meurent by Thomas Litchev. L’ombre et le jour, an exercise in vocal restraint was perfectly suited to Litchev also. In the context of this concert, Die Sterne was something of a curiousity: with both piano and cello accompanying the vocal part. The whole proved plaintive in tone and very much heart-on-sleeve throughout, fittingly matching the character of Pushkin’s original poem in its German translation.

Vladyslava Yakovenko’s first contribution, Bonjour mon Coeur, brought out the song’s bravura character with ease, sparklingly partnered by Spencer Klymyshyn. La coquette was delivered with suitable ornamentation and assurance which did not deny the underlying sense of insouciance its place. The airy, breathy quality brought to Gentilles hirondelles seemed appropriate to a song concerned with airborne birds.

Altogether more Spanish flavour and emotion was evidenced by Anika-France Forget in Madrid. Together with her accompanist Mai Nakase, Anika-France was fully convincing of the inner emotions felt by a chastised lover in Reproches. Le miroir continued in the same vein. How good it would be to hear more from this pairing in particular.

The Sonatine for violin and piano enjoyed a most winning performance. The opening Adagio, replete with yearning passion in its flowing solo line, was most sensuously played by Joonas Pekonen. Jakub Sladek’s accompaniment also did not conceal the passion in Viardot’s writing. The Allegro/Scherzo second movement picked up the Spanish flavour once again in its romantic, heartfelt instrumental lines – indeed, the only thing that might prevent this becoming a winning and highly ornamented song was the lack of a text. The closing Allegro movement rounded out not only the Sonatine but this concert too with music that put Viardot’s gift for lyricism and flourish once again to the fore. Both these qualities Joonas Pekonen and Jakub Sladek delivered with ease. If this concert was anything to by then Viardot’s music is worthy of wider attention, as it is finely written and full of excellent melodies.

A further Viardot rarity, a staging of her opera Cendrillon, was also recently performed at Guildhall School. I shall review this once the video stream is available online.
Reviewed via video stream