CD Review: Romanian Flute Music (Krzysztof Kaczka, flute; Lilian Akopova, piano) Hanssler Classic HC21060

There are significant examples of compositions for the flute being written by Romanian composers. Years ago, I reviewed two CDs from the flautist Zdenek Bruderhans featuring solo music and a concerto by Anatol Vieru. There have also been notable releases of flute music by Doina Rotaru, who has written prolifically for the instrument. Artists such as Pierre-Yves Artaud and Mario Caroli have performed some of her five concertos (the fifth also employs an orchestra of instruments from the flute family), various solo and chamber music compositions on commercial and privately-made recordings.

This latest release from the Polish flautist Krzysztof Kaczka and Ukrainian pianist Lilian Akopova presents an overview survey of writing for the duo that is either influenced by Romanian musical forms or written by Romanian composers, several of whom are likely to be unknown to a wider audience. 

Let’s start with the two works I consider outliers to the main programme. Béla Bartók’s suite of six brief Romanian Folk Dances is music that has been arranged for many different instrumental combinations, and there is no reason why it should not work well for the flute/piano duo. The recording it is given here is bright and replete with rustic character.

George Enescu’s early first violin sonata, written within a week in 1897 when he was 16, is a work that belies the influences of Beethoven and Brahms whilst also showing a deep knowledge of fugal writing in the last two movements. As it is by far the most straight-forwardly written of Enescu’s three violin sonatas, the solo line transcribes reasonably well to the flute. Kaczka and Akopova give it a committed performance; indeed, perhaps due to the re-instrumentation I listened to the work afresh and enjoyed the rich veins of melody that are explored within it. If there’s something that occasionally I felt was missing, it is the variations of tone and intonation, which so carefully marked by Enescu in the score. These are, of course, easier to achieve on the violin than the flute, but Kaczka tries to find an equivalence to this through variations of breath and attack.

On to the works written for the flute/piano duo. Enescu’s Cantabile et Presto, written in 1904, as a flute competition piece for the Paris Conservatoire is atmospherically performed. Indeed, there is a good sense of the relationship between the parts captured in the performance, with, as elsewhere, the flute slightly forward of the piano in a natural acoustic.

Petre Elinescu (1869-1947) was a flautist as well as a prolific composer. His Pastoral Scene of Romania is a connected group of five contrasting dances. Based on the original version for small string ensemble, the version for flute and piano was written in 1898. Elinescu’s writing is tunefully sonorous, wholly tonal and melodic. It could almost be a companion work to Béla Bartók’s Romanian Folk Dances. The piano part at times wilfully echoes the sound of a cimbolom. Elinescu is also represented by his Introduction et Danse des Sorcières, written in 1902. The Introduction possesses a certain languidity, whilst the Danse not only picks up the tempo but beguiles with its flights of fancy.

The modern school of Romanian flute writing is represented by Vasile Jianu (1904-1968). His Prelude and Rigaudon sees a certain rusticity of expression followed by an updated take on a seventeen century dance form. This unique conception is easily and engagingly realised in the recording. Doina Rotaru’s Elegie for Flute and Piano, from 2011, takes me almost to where I began this review. This is by far the most complex and challenging work on the recording from a technical viewpoint, as Rotaru habitually merges old musical forms through modern techniques. When I met and interviewed her in 2010, she talked at length about how this could stretch a performer’s musicianship and knowledge of self, whilst testing technical ability. This comes across as being one of the most compelling performances on the recording.

Lilian Akopova’s piano playing is first rate; I certainly hope to encounter her on disc again before long. The recording quality is faithful and resonant. The accompanying booklet notes are succinct, but more detail could well be helpful to prospective purchasers.
Whilst of niche interest perhaps, to either flautists, lovers of flute music or those wanting to explore lesser-heard composers, this disc can be recommended. There is other repertoire that might have been included, such as Marcel Milhalovici’s Miroir des Songes, Op.112, Myriam Marbe's Haykus (1994) or Rotaru's Crystals. 

One point to note, my review download lacked both the last movement of Bartók’s Romanian Folk Dances and the Presto from Enescu’s Cantabile et Presto. Perhaps an oversight, but it is a shame nevertheless.

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: Enescu String Quartets (Quatour Athenaeum Enesco) cpo 999068

In my 2005 survey of the available recordings of Enescu’s compositions for Musicweb International, I wrote about the string quartets:

“Enescu’s two essays in the [string] quartet format show, as elsewhere in his output, a tightening of thematic materials and compactness of structure from the earlier work to the later one.

An obvious candidate for pairing on disc, there are so far three main versions in contention: the Voces Quartet (Electrecord or Olympia OCD 413 - if you can track them down), Quatuor Athenaeum Enesco (cpo 999 0682) and the Quatuor Ad Libitum (Naxos 8.554721). All three are celebrated ensembles in Romania and each brings experience to their recording of the works. But as often is the case Naxos’s issue will be a clear winner – they play this music as if it were the greatest music ever for a quartet, with total conviction, commitment and love. In a recording that gives each plenty of bloom against the somewhat boxy Electrecord or recessed acoustic of cpo’s release, there seems little argument to answer.”

The cpo release under consideration here is a re-issue of the recording by the Quatuor Athenaeum Enesco. The recording was made by Swiss Radio in May 1992, and re-listening to it after some time from a digital download I stand by my earlier comments about the recorded acoustic. That is a shame, as by and large, both works are given sympathetic interpretations. If I do not find the readings quite capture the white heat and zeal of the Ad Libitum Quartet on Naxos, this does not do particular disservice to the Athenaeum Quartet’s players. I find their realisation of the first quartet's slower movement rather beautifully phrased, actually. Considering that the indications of 'moderato' and 'pensieroso' are so important within three movements there are some finely judged touches of tempo and instrumental colour.

There have been a couple of other recordings of the second quartet that have appeared since I wrote my original review. It is a slight surprise though that no string quartets of substance have risen to the demands of the earlier work, It is surely a jewel in the entire string quartet repertoire, to stand alongside anything by Beethoven or Schubert.

A worthy effort, which would be more recommendable, if it were not for the availability of stronger competition captured in a more favourable acoustic. 

CD Review: Sibelius works for violin and piano (Fenella Humphreys, violin; Joseph Tong, piano) Resonus RES10294

It was perhaps inevitable that Resonus Classics would follow up Fenella Humphreys’ recording of the Sibelius violin concerto – released last year on RES10277 – with a disc of the composer’s works for violin and piano. With that earlier recording, Humphreys staked a claim to be a Sibelius violinist of the first rank; this latest release reinforces that reputation.

Listening to the recording as a whole, what really impresses is not just the tonal quality of Humphreys’ playing, which is finely focussed, but also how her duo partner Joseph Tong varies his approach from the earlier works that have a certain precision to the later ones, which have a greater sense of romantic flair.

Sibelius might have harboured ambitions to be a concert violinist that were never truly realised, but what he left the world instead included the delightful duo miniatures included here, the violin concerto (of course) and a lovely late suite for violin and small ensemble, which deserves to be better known. Throughout all these, he penned works that possess the stylish sense of line and ambiance that was his own particular preserve. There’s nothing wrong with the melodies, be they spun with delightful artfulness in the ‘Religioso’, Op. 78 No. 3 or the urbane rusticity of Danses champêtres Op. 106.  There is much else to enjoy, too, in the piano writing – nowhere more so than in the tolling bells of ‘Die Glocken’, Op. 115 No. 4.

How do Humphreys and Tong compare to the competition? The short answer is admirably well. Their recording is more focussed and clearer than that of Kaija Saarikettu (violin) and Hui-Ying Liu (piano) on the Finlandia label. I find their recording is more resonant in terms of acoustic and more Romantically rich in timbre to really show Sibelius off in his best light. Better by far to turn to the latest recording by Fenella Humphreys and Joseph Tong. It is a recording that will repay repeated listening. Useful liner notes accompany the release.

CD Review: Maija Einfelde Violin sonatas (Magdalēna Geka, violin; Iveta Calite, piano) Skani 129

If art does not always imitate life, it can certainly echo it. For a case in point, then look no further than the Latvian composer Maija Einfelde (born 1939). As the liner notes to this release make clear, Einfelde has endured a complicated and rather winding path to the widespread acceptance of her compositions. A difficult childhood often away from her parents, then not seeing eye-to-eye with her professor at the Latvian Conservatory of Music, followed by disputes with the Composers’ Union during the Soviet years when they did pretty much everything they could to thwart her creative spirit are just three instances of obstacles that had to be overcome.

In the Latvian context, Einfelde’s three sonatas for violin and piano, plus a further sonata for solo violin, constitute an important contribution to the genre. Listening to this recording from beginning to end, a repeating characteristic jumps out – in a word, it is edginess. That is not to say that it present in every movement – if that was the case the music would risk being just one oppressive page after another, which is not the case at all. But edge is definitely central to Einfelde’s idiom, and to go back to where I began, perhaps that’s only to be expected.

The first sonata, from 1980, is in four brief contrasting movements. The first is free-flowing yet has that edge in her use of harmonics, the second is more emphatic, the third is stuck in stasis and the fourth has a yearning character.

The second sonata, written in 1985, condenses the form to three movements. The opening movement starts with dramatic flourish before it looks inwards and becomes more pensive. The middle movement is a somewhat unexpected Minuet, scored with delicacy and consummate technical knowledge. The closing movement initially appears to be a piano solo, but once the violin joins proceedings the music proceeds with amiability.  This might have captured – one conjectures – a moment of rare peace for the composer.

The third sonata, from 1990 in two movements, brings forth that edginess again. This time, it takes a different form. The first movement, played as slowly as possible, creeps inexorably to a heated pitch that excites and disturbs in equal measure. The second movement contrasts, thankfully, with a more peaceful aspect.

The solo sonata, from 1997, has Bartok’s Second Violin Sonata as its model, as Einfelde held it to be an ‘ideal’. Of the three movements the middle one is the most demanding for both player and listener – at times one might think the violinist is playing razor wire rather than strings, such is its all-encompassing forcefulness. This goes some way beyond mere edginess.

The violinist Magdalēna Geka and pianist Iveta Cālīte prove fully up to the demands of this music, both technically and in terms of its spirit. The recording is first rate, proving that Latvian music is in safe hands with the Skani label. Bring on further releases, and soon, as many treasures of the Latvian repertoire deserve a wider audience.

CD Review: Scenes from the Kalevala (Lahti SO / Dima Slobodeniouk) BIS2371

Finland’s national identity owes an enormous debt to the Kalevala, an epic poem first printed in 1835. Its influence was to bear fruit particularly in the music of Jean Sibelius; indeed, can you imagine Sibelius’ oeuvre without it? Probably not, if you’re being really honest.

It is no surprise then that a recording of four works by four composers drawing influence from the Kalevala should feature Sibelius. However, his Lemminkäinen in Tuonela is programmed third and not in it is not as you may know it, as the original 1897 version receives its first recording. Herein BIS plugs a hole as this version was omitted from their must-have 13 disc Sibelius edition.  Sibelius’ first thoughts are revealed as more expansive than his later revisions and perhaps occasionally he loses focus. Critics were scornful at the time, but the work is by no means a total dud. In reducing down the music to its essence in his later revisions, Sibelius gave it heft. Listening to the excellent Lahti Symphony Orchestra under Dima Slobodeniouk’s baton I sporadically feel the weightiness ever-so-slightly lacking too.

The three other composers recorded here are most likely not household names, well, not outside Finland at any rate, and more’s the pity. Leevi Madetoja (1887-1947) wrote his tone poem Kullervo in 1913, and drew on aspects on the Kalevala that inspired Sibelius’ work of the same name. That said, as Kimmo Korhonen makes clear in his excellent liner notes, Madetoja sought to differentiate his dramatic work from those of his compatriots. There are other recordings available – I have not heard them – but in listening to Dima Slobodeniouk’s reading, I particularly enjoy the way he draws out the individual instrumental lines in the orchestration. BIS’ demonstration quality recording aids matters no end. Uuno Klami (1900-1961) penned his five movement Kalevala Suite in 1943. Written with the express aim of putting clear water between himself and Sibelius; its starting point is nearer Stravinsky’s The Firebird and The Rite of Spring. That said, imagine it as a watercolour rather than a full-blooded oil painting in The Creation of the World movement. There’s variety in the moods too: the delicate and shaded Cradle Song for Lemminkäinen provides contrast amongst the movements that are not always of a consistent inspirational level. Tauno Pylkkänen’s ten-minute Kullervo Goes to War (1942) is an orchestral tour-de-force from a 24-year old composer who fully realises the drama of his subject. Dima Slobodeniouk and his Lahti forces revel in the power and passion to turn in a fully persuasive and enjoyable reading.

CD Review: George Walker Piano sonatas (Steven Beck, piano) Bridge 9554

George Walker (1922-2018) was, by any measure, a composer of stature. For that reason, I believe his music should not just be heard as being notable amongst that of his American compatriots, as the work of an African American (though that is often the reason many now giving it the time of day), or because Walker was the first black composer to receive a Pulitzer Prize in Music. Throughout his life Walker was commissioned by many prestigious ensembles and conductors to write for them. He was also a pianist of note – he studied under Rudolf Serkin no less – and some valuable archive recordings exist that reveal his significant talents. Anyone new to Walker’s music could do worse than to discover it through his five stylistically eclectic piano sonatas. Amazingly, the present release is the first recording of Walker’s piano sonata output – better now than never.

The five works are each individually rather brief, yet bold statements are made within them. The longest, No. 1 (1953) in three movements, is a shade under 14’30”; the shortest, No.5 (2003) in a single movement is under 5’ duration. The first two sonatas showcase Walker’s affection for employing a theme and variations model for one movement within a conventionally structured three or four-movement sonata. Along the way, there is strong writing mixed with that of gossamer delicacy. Walker recorded his first two sonatas, but the recordings are occasionally somewhat matter-of-fact; Steven Beck is rather more pliant, which suits the music well. As with most things though, it’s a matter of give and take – Walker finds more gravity in the second sonata’s fourth movement. By the sonata No. 3 (1975), Walker’s idiom had turned to freely expressed atonality – listen to how a bell tolls some 17 times in the middle movement to recapture a memory of hearing the bell in a distant Italian campanile. The sonata No. 4 (1984) is perhaps the only place you get an overt notice that this music by a black composer, with the oblique quotation of “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child” in its second movement. The sonata No.5 is reduced in form, but bears melodies of grandeur with consummate artfulness.

Pianist Steven Beck is as good a guide to George Walker’s sonatas as one could hope for; his playing possesses sensitivity of touch that illuminates the merest snatch of a phrase or differentiates the interplay between each hand, a questing sense of discovery and a keen awareness of structure. In no small part is Beck aided by the warm tone of his Steinway grand, which is faithfully recorded. As if one needs it, Ethan Iverson’s brief accompanying notes make a further heartfelt case for Walker’s music. A greater analysis of the intricacies of the structure within and influences upon the five sonatas would have been welcome in place of the thumbnail sketches that – for now – will have to suffice. That aside, the music is where it is really at. Do investigate!