J.S. Bach, Toshia Hosokawa, Isang Yun. Thomas Demenga, cello; Teodoro Anzellotti, accordion; Asako Urushihara, violin; and others. (ECM New Series, 289 461 862-2)
Concertos for Cello and Orchestra by Eugenio Toussaint, Arturo Márquez, and Roberto Sierra (world premiere recording). Carlos Prieto, cello; Orquesta de las Américas, Carlos Miguel Prieto, conductor. (Urtext, JBCC 047)
A Prieto: Six Solo Works for Cello by Various Spanish and Latin American Composers (world premiere recording). Carlos Prieto, Jesus Castro-Balbi, cello; Edison Quintana, piano. (Urtext, JBCC 045)
On these three new discs, two champions of contemporary music–Thomas Demenga and Carlos Prieto—explore uncharted territory of the cello literature. Demenga's two-CD set concludes his series of recordings of J.S. Bach's unaccompanied cello suites begun in 1986. Each suite is coupled with a work by a contemporary composer because Demenga feels that these pieces serve to illuminate each other. Here he examines "the interpenetration of Eastern and Western musical thought" by juxtaposing Bach's Suites No. 5 and No. 6 with, respectively, three works by Japanese composer Toshio Hosokawa and his mentor, Korean composer Isang Yun, both of whom sought to merge their Eastern roots with Western techniques.
Yun’s music centers on the isolated tone as an independent musical event, a concept he passed on to Hosokawa. Expanded into "sound streams" and "sound fields," the significance of the main tone becomes a symbol of the Taoist tradition: "motion in motionlessness, the particular dissolving into the immutable whole." This tension is illustrated through constantly alternating, drastic contrasts of tempo, dynamics, and mood.
For Hosokawa, the focus of music is its relationship to nature, and in his works one hears the sounds of the natural world: the wind, the waves, the birds, especially the cicadas. (He calls one of his pieces "Winter Bird.") To the uninitiated listener, most of this music seems like a collection of unconnected, more or less random sound effects, some pleasing, some grating, some caressing the instruments, some abusing them.
Demenga is a fine cellist whose technique is equal to any challenge, but his approach to Bach is as idiosyncratic as his program-making. Striving for "authenticity," he uses very clipped articulation and tunes down a whole step, which—especially in the Suite No. 5 with its scordatura—gives his tone a dull, grainy quality. Moreover, his surging dynamics and erratic tempo and rhythm seem at variance with the style.
Mexican-born Carlos Prieto has created a whole Spanish and Latin-American cello literature virtually single-handedly, commissioning, premiering, and recording 15 concertos and over 50 solo pieces, most of them written for and dedicated to him. Of the three concertos on Concertos for Cello and Orchestra by Eugenio Toussaint, Arturo Márquez, and Roberto Sierra, Márquez' work from Mexico is the most accessible. Very Spanish in its romantic ardor and dance rhythms, but also influenced by jazz, it abounds with lovely melodies for solo winds and has a brilliant, idiomatic solo part. Eugenio Toussaint's music, also from Mexico, is even more jazz-oriented; the percussion acts as rhythm section while the solo cello sings. Both concertos have sad, slow middle movements. Roberto Sierra's from Puerto Rico is most abrasive and "modern"; full of sound effects, it has a virtuosic cello part complete with cadenza. Prieto is accompanied splendidly by the Orquesta de las Américas, conducted by his son, Carlos Miguel Prieto.
The title of the third CD, A Prieto, refers to the performer as dedicatee, but "aprieto" also means "difficult." In a Bach-inspired "neo-Baroque" Suite for Two Cellos by Samuel Zyman from Mexico, Prieto is joined by the fine Peruvian cellist Jesus Castro-Balbi; elsewhere, Uruguayan pianist Edison Quintana is a wonderful partner. Two folk-like dances by Claudia Calderon from Colombia are great fun; a slow piece by Xavier Montsalvatge from Catalonia is lyrical and impressionistic, as is a Sonatina by Alberto Villapando from Bolivia. "Espacios" by Juan Orrego-Salas from Chile has many contrasting connected sections, and "Partita Piatti" for solo cello (named after Prieto’s famous Stradivari) by Tomás Marco from Spain is a musically substantial bravura piece.
Prieto and his collaborators play all these works with the natural affinity of people conversing in their native tongue. Their identification with the styles and idiomatic inflections is complete; their commitment and dedication to the music and the composers speak through every note.
Haydn: String Quartets Op. 76, 77, 103. Amadeus Quartet: Norbert Brainin and Sigmund Nissel, violins; Peter Schidlof, viola; Martin Lovett, cello. (Deutsche Grammophon, 289 471 762-2)
This three-CD set is a must for all string quartet lovers: Haydn's great last nine quartets played by one of Europe's foremost groups closely identified with the "Viennese" classics: the Amadeus Quartet. Formed in London in 1948 by three Austrians and an Englishman, the Amadeus stayed together for 40 years until the death of its violist. These reissues, originally recorded in the 1960s and '70s, show the fruits of this long collaboration. The players think, feel, and breathe together; weaving a seamless tapestry of lines in conversational give-and-take, they blend meticulous care with daring spontaneity but avoid any hint of excess. Their phrasing and pacing are perfectly poised, the style has gracious, humorous charm and courtly dignity. Their impeccable technique is always at the service of the music, even in the brilliantly tossed-off bravura passages. And their tone: Pure, rich, warm, and radiantly beautiful–it seems spun out of a single substance. The quartet's unique quality, however, is its constant expressiveness and response to every changing mood and nuance. Each note is important and infused with life, yet the music never loses its flow or structure. Listeners will find their own favorites among Haydn's masterpieces and the Amadeus' performances; only the Trio section of the opening quartet's Minuet is incongruously heavy and unsteady.
—Edith Eisler
Ray Brown, Monty Alexander, Russell Malone. Ray Brown, bass; Monty Alexander, piano; Russell Malone, guitar. (Telarc, 83562)
Recorded last March, just weeks before the untimely death of bassist Ray Brown, this recording of covers and originals starts out as a somewhat subdued affair with John Lewis' "Django" but moves along briskly, thanks, in part, to Brown's propulsive walking bass lines ("Honeysuckle Rose") and the drumless trio's tightly wound rhythmic drive (Dexter Gordon's "Dexter’s Dex"). A solid set overall—one highlight is a pair of mid-tempo blues numbers, Brown’s own "Blues for Junior" and Nadine Robinson's "I Just Can’t See for Looking," that make the listener appreciate the group's soulfulness and easy command of the blues form. This 11-track CD will go down in recording history as the final contribution from one of the genre's most influential string players, and Alexander's tender piano ballad "Don't Go" serves as something of a musical epitaph for Brown. Telarc has sweetened the pot by adding a 10-track bonus CD that features highlights from Brown’s impressive career at the label, including three tracks from his sensational Superbass and Superbass II (featuring John Clayton and Christian McBride), discs that belong in every jazz bass player's library.
—Greg Cahill
The Strathspey King. James Scott Skinner, fiddle. (Temple Records, COMD2084)
Nearly every contemporary Scottish fiddler, from Johnny Cunningham to Alasdair Fraser to Ashley MacIsaac—that crazy kilt-clad Canadian kid who shreds three bows during every concert—plays a hefty helping of tunes attributed to James Scott Skinner. A master fiddler who was prone to flights of virtuosic flash, Skinner composed hundreds of tunes now found in the standard Scottish repertoire. Born in 1843, he was dubbed "The Strathspey King" in a newspaper article and liked the title enough to keep it, although he apparently preferred "The King." Skinner recorded these gems, sometimes using a Strohviol, between 1905 and 1922. That's right, some of these recordings are nearly 100 years old, originally pressed on wax cylinders for Edison or on phonograph discs for Emile Berliner. Reissued on LP in 1975, they've been remastered once again in digital format. Don't be put off by the first few tracks, as I nearly was: Time apparently is not kind to wax, and Skinner's spot-on intonation comes across as woefully shaky as a result on the opening "The Lucania," and a few other slower tunes. Just skip forward to track three, a medley that starts with William Ross' "Athole Highlanders’ Farewell to Loch Katrine," surely one of Scottish music's greatest hits, and enjoy the ride. "Athole Highlanders" and several other popular tunes appear on more than one track. Other highlights include a hornpipe called "The Banks" (at the end of track four) and Skinner's own "The Laird of Drumblair" (end of track five), one of my personal favorites. There are also some astounding variations on "Tullochgorum" (tracks 19 and 20). All due respect to Elvis, long live the King.
—Elisa M. Welch
Bartók: Viola Concerto, Berlioz: Harold en Italie. Csaba Erdélyi, viola; Marc Taddei conducting the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. (Concordance, CCD03)
Csaba Erdélyi’s labor of love, reconstructing Béla Bartók's unfinished Viola Concerto, comes to fruition on this excellent recording. Erdélyi spent years studying facsimiles of the composer's hand-written manuscript, comparing it to the published edition completed by Tibor Serly and William Primrose, the violist who had commissioned the work shortly before the composer's death in 1945. Erdélyi painstakingly corrected passages in the solo viola line and completely reworked the orchestration. The result is a marvelous rendition, beautifully performed, evoking the Hungarian folk melodies, rhythms, and moods that permeate the best of Bartók's other works. Hector Berlioz' Harold en Italie, written more than 100 years earlier, is a surprising complement to the more modern opus. Paganini commissioned it in 1834, after he had acquired a Strad viola. (The virtuoso apparently never performed the work, possibly because it wasn't flashy enough, but he continued to support Berlioz.) While not, strictly speaking, a concerto, it does allow the viola to shine in places, and Erdélyi brings a wonderfully fresh perspective to this well-known piece. As John Button explains in the liner notes, "Harold, the viola player, is a detached observer, identified by his motto in each of the four movements . . .." (Note that due to complicated copyright issues revolving around the Bartók concerto, the recording, and Erdélyi’s printed edition of the work, are legally available for sale in Australia and New Zealand, but not elsewhere. For details, visit www.concordance.co.nz.)
—E.M.W.
Vivaldi: The Four Seasons; Violin Concertos. Itzhak Perlman, violin; with the London Philharmonic and Israel Philharmonic orchestras. (EMI Classics, 5-74761-2)
I know what you're thinking: Dear God, no, not another version of "The Four Seasons." Yes, indeed. Decry it as "classical music for dummies" if you wish, but there’s a reason folks like this music. It's good. This one is a worthy rendering, with Itzhak Perlman on the fiddle (modern, not Baroque). What's not to like? OK, it's a reissue. (Dear God, no, not another reissue!) Yes, indeed. As is the trend among classical music labels, EMI Classics is mining its back catalog, digging for gems that will sell well again and again. And who can blame them? Face it, this is good music, even if you've heard it before. And of course you have. These "Seasons" were recorded in 1976 with the London Philharmonic, while three other concertos—in C minor (RV 199, "Il sospetto"), A minor (RV 356), and A major (RV 347)—were performed with the Israel Philharmonic in 1984, with Perlman soloing and conducting. The tracks were compiled once before in 1992 and here they are again. If you must have your Vivaldi served up on Baroque instruments, look elsewhere. But for a modern rendition, this collection will stand up for some time.
—E.M.W.
