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!

CD Review: Ukrainian Piano Quintets (Bogdana Pivnenko. violin, etc) Naxos 8.579098

Ukrainian composers have gradually been achieving wider international recognition through several notable recordings in recent years, several on the Naxos label. Two composers who have fared particularly well in this regard are Boris Mikolayovich Lyatoshynsky and Valentin Silvestrov.

Boris Lyatoshynsky (1895–1968) is often considered the father of Ukrainian music. That said, he often found influences in western composers and forms that were brought to bear on his writing. The Ukrainian Quintet, dating from 1942, is certainly expansive at over forty minutes’ duration, but it is also an extrovert and emotional one. There is a sombre intensity to the first movement that is realised through an uncompromising approach in the instrumentalists’ playing. Sensitivity is not the primary quality here, but it is more evident in the second movement. Forming the heart of the piece, the writing affords each of the musicians to shine individually. The violins of Bogdana Pivnenko and Taras Yaropud are bright and incisive, Kateryna Suprun’s viola provides warmth in the mid-range, whilst Yurii Pogoretskyi’s cello grounds the strings and provides much character. Iryna Starodub’s pianism is superbly musical and partners the strings with unassuming confidence. Much of the last two movements consist of writing that has a direct, even confrontational character. The third movement scurries along in trenchantly hushed tones before turning more towards dance-like forms. The various instrumental dialogues that make up the final movement are uncompromising scored, yet they are realised with a sense of atmosphere from the players that leaves one in no doubt that this is music of deep personal meaning which has been lived with for many years.

Valentin Silvestrov (born 1937) dedicated his Piano Quintet, written in 1961, to Boris Lyatoshynsky. Written at a time when Silvestrov was starting to pursue a modernist path in reaction to the Socialist realism imposed upon Ukrainian composition in the period of Stalinist occupation, it is a work that is at once powerful yet restrained. The opening movement, Prelude, is sombre and if not a little ironic in outlook. The second movement Fugue is an impetuous allegro that is initially carried along by the piano whilst the strings weave lines of contrast around and alongside it. The finale has a somewhat elusive character, with its music pared back to the extreme: solo violin and cello parts dominate, albeit in their restraint, alongside the brooding piano.

Victoria Poleva (born 1962) has written in a style called ‘sacred minimalism’ since the late 1990s. Her Simurgh-quintet, written in 2000 and revised in 2020, has a three movements-in-one structure. Her piano quintet provides a significant contrast to much of the music in the other two works on this recording. Of its compact form of 17’45”, the first 12’55” is a mysterious sequence of string textures played at a mezzo-piano or piano dynamic marking laid over minimal chords and repeated notes on the piano. The effect is somewhat meditative with its sense of calm introspection. The middle section coalesces around a growing sense of dynamic intensity that builds inexorably towards an emotional climax, after which the dynamic recedes into a manner that echoes the quintet’s opening. There are qualities in the execution of this recording that make this an immediately impressive listening experience. Listen to the precision with which the sonorities are unobtrusively blended between the individual string parts and in combination with the piano. Or the delight with which tonalities shift and merge with the glissandi, which are playfully realised.

The recording quality of this Naxos release is excellent, faithful and atmospheric. Richard Whitehouse’s introductory liner notes are up to his customary high standard. If you are looking for some interesting chamber repertoire off the beaten track in superbly played performances at a great price, then look no further.

CD Review: Callaerts / Ryelandt piano trios (Ryelandt Trio) Etcetera KTC1730

There are several notable Belgian piano trios in the repertoire, such as those by César Franck, written in the early to mid-nineteenth century, and those by Joseph Jongen and Guillaume Lekeu, written in the closing decade of the century. The single piano trio by Joseph Callaerts (1838-1901) dates from 1892, whilst the two works for the genre by Joseph Ryelandt (1870-1965) are from 1915 and 1944.

Joseph Callaerts’ was for much of his working life the organist at the cathedral in Antwerp, the city of his birth. Unsurprising, organ compositions form the bulk of his output, alongside some piano and chamber pieces. The piano trio was awarded a prize by the Belgian Royal Academy, but after some popularity fell from public view after the composer’s death. This world premiere recording of the work finally brings it to modern audience. What an imposing piece it is, too.  Cast in four movements, each around five minutes’ duration, it is very much in the late Romantic mould. The opening movement begins with a smouldering intent of the intricately written pages that flow from the initial thematic ideas. The second movement lives up to its cantabile marking, as it proves to be a lyrical outpouring of some delicacy. The third movement scherzo is in a somewhat jocular vein, whilst tensions are brought to a head in the energetic finale. I find the Ryelandt Trio’s performance a totally compelling one. Their use of period instruments achieves a textural blend that is most beguiling in the second and third movements. Pieter-Jan Verhoyen’s playing of the 1898 Erard concert grand anchors the entire performance, whilst the glowing tone of Pieter-Jan De Smet’s 1725 Ambroise de Combie cello provides unobtrusive warmth against the elegant tone of Jeroen De Beer’s 1805 Pique violin.

Joseph Ryelandt’s two trios date from 1915 and 1944 respectively. The first trio, written during his confinement to Bruges during the First World War, has two movements, but each is substantial. The opening Allegro con moto movement has a nervous character initially, from which more passionate emotions emerge at length. It is in these later passages that the trio really takes flight, but the players of the Ryelandt Trio are evidentially masters at sustaining a musical argument convincingly throughout its many ebbs and flows. The second movement Andante embodies the ambiance of profound romance, delightfully played by violin and piano before the cello enters and a set of variations ensue.

Ryelandt’s second trio is more conventionally written in three movements. The opening movement, a rolling Allegro, shows a comfort with the trio form that perhaps was occasionally missing from Ryelandt’s first trio. The middle movement Largo is the heart of the piece and it very much wears its heart on its sleeve: the Trio bring out the contrasting emotions with winning candour and ease of expression in their fluent phrasing. The forthright final movement concludes the trio in relatively short order, yet with a careful ear for sonority throughout.

Ryelandt’s slender three-minute Canon en Trio, op.70, written for his eldest three children in 1918, is presented almost as a coda to the three major works on this recording. Not musically challenging, the simplicity of the interwoven lines in this gentle Andante movement draws this release to a comforting conclusion.

The recording is admirably clear with a sense of space around the instruments, which allows the individual sonorities to blend beautifully. The liner note by David Vergauwen usefully sets the scene regarding both composers and the works performed, however the lack of a structural analysis of Ryelandt’s second trio – only a brief performance history is given – might be something of an omission when a structural overview is provided for the other pieces.

Following listening to this release, I am tempted to explore Ryelandt’s instrumental writing further – another Etcetera label release featuring the Terra Nova Collective or a volume on Toccata Classics featuring the De la Haye Ensemble would seem good places to start, particularly as they do not duplicate the recorded repertoire. For now, though, the present release of piano trios proves more than worthy of repeated listening.

CD Review: Mirrors (Jeanine De Bique, soprano; Concerto Köln / Luca Quintavalle) Berlin Classics 0302017BC

The Trinidadian soprano Jeanine De Bique has in recent years been making quite a name for herself, garnering appreciation in the international music press. Her slender discography to date indicates but a fraction of her eclectic repertoire – Rameau’s Platée, Handel’s Rodelinda (title role) and Mahler’s Symphony no 8. The present recording is De Bique’s first solo release and comprises of opera arias from the baroque period. Yannis François, musicologist and concept creator for the album explains: “The listeners can experience different reflections of the same character as if they were looking at themselves through a broken mirror.” The arias tell of key moments in the psychological development of the protagonists, illuminate the diversity of the female experience and the relatable perspectives of their lives.

Thus, there are portraits of Cleopatra from Handel’s eponymous opera and Carl Heinrich Graun’s Cesare e Cleopatra, from 1742. Agrippina appears in Handel’s opera of 1709 and Georg Philipp Telemann’s lesser-known Germanicus of five years earlier. Rodelinda, from Handel’s 1725 opera of the same name, is contrasted with that of Graun’s eponymous opera from 1741. Alcina, from Handel’s 1728 opera, has a counterpart in the character of Morgana in Riccardo Broschi’s neglected L’Isola D’Alcina from 1735. Deidamia in Handel’s under-rated eponymous 1741 opera is paired with the forgotten 1745 opera Achille in Sciro by Gennaro Manna. Overtures to the opera Partenope by Handel and Leonardo Vinci provide interludes at junctures in this interesting programme.

Many exponents of baroque opera fall down in my experience often fall down on two counts: their enunciation of the text and ability to maintain the desired emotion convincingly throughout the aria. Not so, with Jeanine De Bique. On the evidence of this recording, she’s a singer equally at home in faster, more dramatic repertoire (Handel's 'L'alma mia fra le tempeste' from Agrippina), where her voice flashes with rapier accuracy, as the more contemplative arias (Handel’s ‘Se pietà di me non senti’ from Giulio Cesare), which find her gleaming tones lingering seductively on every note. There’s more though, and it is best summed up in the word feeling. In Jeanine De Bique’s assumptions, these are not dry renditions, but characters inhabited, lived and brought to life through the arias.

The Concerto Köln under Luca Quintavalle’s direction provide appositely discrete yet characterful accompaniment. The recording is first rate, the three booklet notes on the recording concept are informative and the texts and translations are available via a QR code.

If you feel in need of a New Year’s gift – and who does not after the past years – Jeanine De Bique stylish and up-to-date take on the baroque is sure to brighten your life for some time to come. 

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!