"New" Music Log

Started by Todd, April 06, 2007, 07:22:52 AM

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Todd



My X surname classical collection is woefully lacking.  Sure, Xenakis has emotionally scarred me like so many other classical music fans, but other than that, nary a composer with a last name starting with this mysterious letter populates my physical collection or resides on my hard drive.  So here's a chance to sort of rectify that in the form of streaming Guan Xia's Earth Requiem.  Xia and/or the A&R folks at Erato caught Michel Plasson's attention, so an actual, world-renowned conductor waves the stick here.   Now, a cynical sort might consider the market forces at play here, with a prominent Chinese composer having written the work in response to the 2008 Sichuan earthquake, and with the work played by the China National Symphony Orchestra.  That seems to guarantee pretty good sales in a pretty big market.  Maybe the whole project was an exercise in artistic purity, who knows?

Ultimately, it's the music that matters.  This work is not a setting of the Requiem Mass, but rather commemorates the dead and celebrates the living.  Set in four long movements, it sounds rather like a big old choral symphony.  Xia, like Dale, has spent some time writing movie soundtracks and it shows.  Rather than Ron Howard, the name that leaps to mind in the milquetoast Mahler opening called Gazing at the stars is Kevin Costner circa 1990.  The second movement, Heavenly Wind and Earth Fire, has more fire in its belly in the first half and in the coda, and may very well serve as musical background to a Chris Hemsworth vehicle.    Some lovely winds, with flutes prominent, introduce the third movement, Boundless Love, an achingly saccharine movement that could probably serve as love theme to a Rachel McAdams tearjerker/awards bait romance – the female lead contracts some terrible disease, confronts mortality, recognizes the good in her life, and fully embraces the love all around her, that sorta thing.  The work closes with Wings of Angels.  It opens with the Qiang flute, rendering this a Requiem with Chinese Characteristics, before adding organ and then moving to the chorus.  It sounds more ebullient and celebratory and less soundtracky than the preceding movements and may be marginally better. 

So, like the Dale Requiem, this is a one and done recording, and one that, at best, I'm indifferent to.  Nah, I dislike it.  YMMV. 

Sonics, playing, and singing is all perfectly fine.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



The second recording from Lamia Yared is more or less a bigger budget sequel to the first.  Entitled Ottoman Splendours, it moves slightly west, mixing Turkish, Greek, and Spehardic songs and instrumental music.  The recorded sound is better, and while it still emphasizes Yared, it is less pronounced.  The instrumentation is more varied and complex, and the music definitely sounds more diverse.  Tres Harmanicas eran, a 17th Century tune from Sarajevo, sounds familiar, though I cannot place where I've heard it before.  Kouklaki Mou, which dates from 1920 Istanbul, sounds like a seamless blend of klezmer music, Turkish music, and points the way to Kurt Weill.  It's basically a show tune.  The recording works well, but it has less of a wow factor than the first disc from this team, mainly because it sounds more familiar.  To an extent, Yared reminds me of Isabel Bayrakdarian, though neither of these discs achieve the same mind-numbing greatness the Armenian has delivered time and again.  Still, I do rather want to hear what else Ms Yared will sing.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



Holy smokes!  This is the first time I've listened to Mendelssohn's Elijah, and it knocked my socks off.  I've long known his Lobgesang, which has its moments, but this is something else.  The first couple movements are dramatic and gripping, and then all heaven breaks loose.  The great Paul McCreesh, one of my favorite living conductors, sought to reconstruct the 1846 premiere and assembled massive forces and a massive organ and everything hits with maximal force in Help, Lord!  It nearly out Mahlers Mahler.  Things then settle into a fairly direct oratorio, with solo bits, nice accompaniment, superb transparency, and so forth.  But one always wants the next echt-melodramatic musical wallop to arrive, which it does in Yet doth the Lord see it not and over and over.  The biblical texts all work well in the composition, indicating no little thoughtfulness in the selection process.  As performed, this is a suitable stand-in for an historical-ish opera.  I kind of wish I would have listened to it years ago.

Everyone performs their parts well, the chorus does superb work, and the organ shakes the foundation.  I know there are other recordings out there, so I may very well try another.  And now that I tried McCreesh in 19th Century fare, that Berlioz Requiem he did seems mighty inviting.

A purchase of the year.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



Next up, Bruno Maderna, a modernist composer and conductor of no little renown.  I needed something with a bit of edge and heft after two saccharine works.  At first, I was taken aback as the Requiem Aeternam is performed a capella and sounds perfectly tonal.  It sounds very beautiful, very sparse, very tense.  I briefly wondered to myself what if Maderna went for a modernist Rore style?  Well, come the Kyrie, instruments enter the fray, including piano and trumpet, often singly, disparate in time and space, to nice effect.  It's not until the massive Dies Irae that one hears the more unabashedly, imposing modernist style fully appear.  The large orchestra pumps out musical ferocity and the chorus adds vocal heft to that.  Here's the antidote to Dale and Xia.  The soloists also get to start in, some singing with full band, sometimes in tandem with each other, and, most effectively when it occurs, singing while one or a small number of instruments lend haunting support.  As the work proceeds, one hears distilled and modernized influences such as, perhaps, Verdi in the Sanctus.  And Maderna adds a nice touch in the Agnus Dei, where the two female soloists are matched with two pianos plunking out gently dissonant support, along with other forces as needed.  It's strikingly beautiful and effective.  The work closes out with a Libera Me boasting more than a little tension and forward, insistent playing of the band under the chorus.  It blends tradition and modernism quite nicely.

Overall, this is an excellent work, and definitely a qualitative step up from the last two works I sampled, though it does not have the impact of the first two.  All forces perform very nicely, indeed.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



Michael Hersch is a name I have only seen up to this point, and that is because his compositions attract the talent of, and result in recordings by, Miranda Cuckson and Patricia Kopatchinskaja.  For my  first foray into his music, I opted to hear what the former did way back in 2010, as reissued in 2022.  The recording is comprised of three works: the half-hour and change Fourteen Pieces for Violin; the twenty-one movement, half-hour and change The Wreckage of Flowers, where Cuckson is joined by her frequent collaborator Blair McMillen; and finally, Five Fragments for Violin, which is over in mere minutes.

Both big works are set to and with poems and prose by two different authors.  There's no singing or speaking, but rather the texts are artistic partners.  These are not programmatic works in the style of Liszt, but rather inspirations.  The big solo violin work is a tough row to hoe for the listener, but it is a rewarding one.  There's not one tune to be heard, but there's much expression.  The loud passages often shriek, exuding anger or suffering, with double stops and dissonances tearing at the listener's ear.  They leave an immediate impression.  But not as much as the quieter music.  Often as astringent as the loud music, but sometimes far more accessible, as played by Cuckson, the quietude forces one to pay close attention, to glean the import of the note, sometimes while contemplating the text, sometimes while hearing only the sound.  At times, pizzicato will punctuate longer, unattractive lines, which will then build up to something intense and focused (the wonderful VIII).  The third Intermezzo (XI) sounds intensely austere but also hints at romantic gestures, while the following movement harks back to Berg and Bartok – how I would love to hear FPZ tackle this.  If that were not enough, the second Nocturne (XIII) starts off with hushed, nearly silent pizzacati, with extended pauses, before switching to tense slashing, and then ending in silence.  This should be transcribed for piano.  The slow, somber, almost tuneful final movement brings this solo violin drama to a most satisfying conclusion.

The Wreckage of Flowers mixes things up with a piano.  McMillen plays with clarity, sharp staccato, and some bright upper registers.  There are some more vibrant pieces that take full advantage of the percussive instrument and the contrast between the instruments (No 10, for instance), but for me, as with the solo violin work, it is the quieter music that again shines.  Nos 3 and 9 sound more haunting and subdued, inviting to the listener to contemplate things no less weighty than eternity itself.  OK, that description is histrionic, but these pieces are more contemplative.  There's something immediately attractive about how Hersch sees no need to overload the music with gobs of notes when far fewer will get the message across.  That's not to say that the music is minimalist – it's not – but nor is it maximalist.  It is, however, almost Webernian in its economy at times.  That written, No 18, meant to tie to a huge flock of crows, is condensed musical maximalism, and it works, too. 

The tiny Five Fragments for Violin generally sound more shrill, intense, and cutting than the first work.  This is even more Webernian in type, and really, I kind of wanted more, to see where it could go.

The recorded sound allows for some resonance to be heard, and it strikes me as absolutely necessary to conveying the musical message.  I have a sneaking suspicion all the works would be blockbusters in person in a small performing venue.  The Fourteen Pieces for Violin fairly screams out for at least some idiosyncratic playing, to emphasize the moment.  Indeed, it's the kind of work where one wants to hear to it multiple times, which changes every time. 


The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Brian

Here's an oldie for ya.



Written by a mixed-race Brazilian priest, this Requiem is pretty explicitly modeled after examples like Mozart and Cherubini. In some places it seems to anticipate Verdi, too. The Dies irae is a firecracker.

Derivative, probably. But when you model your work after the very best, well, that means your work is pretty great too. I absolutely loved it. And at 35 minutes, it doesn't require a ton of commitment. Will listen again soon.

Brian

#606


A mixed bag with the theme of French women composers. Betsy Jolas, still alive at age 96, gets top billing for a 12 minute suite of miniatures, but that top billing might be warranted despite the small nature of the piece, because she has genuine personality and a real ear for color. The piece, A Little Summer Suite, might be compared to a series of watercolors: quick, ephemeral sketches of summertime memories, with subtitles like "Strolling about." The language takes some inspiration from French modern masters, Messiaen particularly, and includes lots of soloistic writing for an orchestra that sounds chamber-like but is, I think, probably pretty big.

Before that, the biggest successes on the disc are the two works by Lili Boulanger, D'un matin de printemps and D'un soir triste, that are on their way to becoming global concert repertoire staples. Whether because of affirmative action or merit, you might argue, but I like them a lot and find these performances colorful and persuasive.

Less successful are works by French romantics Melanie Bonis and Augusta Holmes. Holmes' piece, Andromeda, is a symphonic poem loosely in sonata form, and is pleasant and colorful without being memorable. Bonis' suite is an unfortunate attempt to create Debussy-like impressionist portraits of three "legendary women": Cleopatra, Ophelia, and Salome. The first two pieces bear almost no resemblance to their subjects, instead being a sort of generic early Debussian language (think of the Petite Suite, for example). For Salome, her inspiration turns to Rimsky-Korsakov, including Scheherazade and the opera suites.

All in all, unfortunately, not one of these composers exhibits a wholly original voice, but Jolas and Boulanger come closest, providing the best combination of character and craftsmanship. As always with composers like Bonis and Holmes (and Florence Price), my thought is not to blame the composers for any lack of structural or orchestral craft, but to blame the men around them for, presumably, not providing them the same kind of educational and creative opportunities that all composers need to achieve their full capability. In fact, all three of the just-named women were much more successful in chamber music and miniatures, suggesting that the talent was absolutely there, it just was not cultivated by the system of that era. So this disc is a mix of intriguing rarities and heartbreaking missed opportunities.

Todd



Moving back to a composer with some soundtrack experience, it's Tigran Mansurian time.  This marks my first exposure to his music.  Now, the movie soundtrack background gave me pause, but the absolutely fantastic Armenian liturgical music legacy gave me hope.  Of course, my exposure to the latter is limited solely to music performed by Isabel Bayrakdarian, but her recordings rate among my purchases of the century, so I retained high hopes.  Such hopes were well-founded.  While lacking the in-your-face impact of Pinho Vargas or the chaotic genius of BAZ, this setting blends the standard text with music at once melodic, ethereal, intense, haunting, flowing, modern, ancient, and beautiful, with moments of repose and introspection peppered in.  Mansurian also shows how to crank out a fiery Dies Irae with limited forces, and one that evokes ancient airs while sounding modern.  But it is the Domine Jesu Christe that really drives home the quality of this work.  The music inhabits the same soundworld as the best of Bayrakdarian discs, and the soprano Anja Petersen does excellent work, but the style of music immediately made me wish the Canadian had been given singing duties.  Of course, it's not just the soprano in the movement: everything comes together splendidly.  That holds true for the whole thing.  Being an ECM production, everything is tip top.

As with Pinho Vargas , Mansurian is now a composer I feel impelled to explore more.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Brian

#608


Stewart Goodyear's "Callaloo" is a piano concerto in five movements, the fourth being a solo cadenza that builds a long transition from the slowish third up to a raucous finale climax. In other words, it's exactly the same as the Shostakovich First Violin Concerto.

OK, maybe not. It's strongly influenced by his Trinidadian roots and calypso, plus jazz and (one imagines) pianistic virtuoso-composers like Prokofiev. There are no slow movements. The closest we get is a fairly lively ballad. The language varies from more sophisticated to overtly populist partying in the finale. It sounds like a blast, with lots of rhythmic motifs, and I hope he gets to tour with it and perform it in front of many big orchestras. It is loads of fun and has more classical structure and overall integrity as a conception than, say, the Kapustin pastiches.

His piano sonata starts with a fast movement that's like Oscar Peterson playing 12-tone. Or something. The second movement is more of a ballad than even the concerto's ballad, a long melody that spins out from start to end. I like Goodyear's humble description of the sonata, which he wrote at age 18: "The Piano Sonata was inspired by my high school prom and the music of my age group. As this was a teenage work, my youthful exuberance also wanted to pull out all the stops and create the most difficult piano work ever composed. This sonata is therefore a combination of piano virtuosity, teenage hubris, and the popular music I heard in 1996." The virtuosity required in the final 60 seconds, especially, is over the top ridiculous.

In other words, it's not so different from Earl Wild's Piano Sonata 2000 and its finale, the "Toccata a la Ricky Martin."

EDIT: Oh, and this performance of Rhapsody in Blue isn't a slouch, either. Terrific disc.

Todd

Quote from: Brian on February 13, 2023, 10:40:21 AMIn other words, it's not so different from Earl Wild's Piano Sonata 2000 and its finale, the "Toccata a la Ricky Martin."

I have never listened to Wild's sonata.  Armed with the information reported here, I will add it to my list of things to hear.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



My interest piqued by claims of Antoine Forqueray's devilry, I decided to listen to some of his music.  Sure, I could have gone with Jordi Savall to start, and I will listen to him in due course, but I wanted something newer, fresher.  Lucile Boulanger's surname caught my eye, so this mixed rep recording earned a listen on the basis of that alone.  I streamed, so I didn't read the notes, but the back cover indicates that Tony's two compositions aside, and one from one of his sons, most of the works are transcriptions for his instrument. 

And fine transcriptions they are, seeming to demand rather significant playing ability.  There's much energy and vibrancy and no little groove to the music.  As to Antoine, the Le Leclair has some hyper-virtuosic elements that seem no less than precursors to Paganini and Liszt.  The substantive entire Fourth Suite is most overtly virtuosic of the works, with ample boogie and rhythmic variegation, with the soloist required to move all over the place, thrusting out vibrant playing, and sometimes lovely and languid playing, seemingly without a merciful rest.  While not diabolical, it does sound fiendishly difficult.  Ms Boulanger's musical collaborators seem to have a slightly easier time, though I would not say easy.  I should also note that the second movement, La Clément, has a recognizable tune, though where I recognize it from I cannot say.  It could be from some other arrangement, or a recording I forgot I listened to, but the tune caught my ear specifically because I do not remember hearing it in a baroque context.

Perhaps the most fun aspect of this recording is that the main soloist is multi-talented.  Not only can she play the viola da gamba at a world class level, she's an accomplished voice actress.  She provided the French voiceover for Dora the Explorer and the French dubbing for Maeby Fünke, among other characters. 

This recording gives me two new paths to explore: the Forqueray family and Ms Boulanger.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



Having listened to BAZ's Requiem, which includes soundbites o' Hitler, how provocative or daring could Evgeni Kostitsyn's American Requiem I be?  It is a Requiem written in the wake of 9/11 and includes all manner of texts from various sources, great and less great, including Lincoln, Dubya, Osama bin Laden, the Good Book, the Koran, and in a stylistic mishmash reminiscent of BAZ, it includes Gregorian Chant, Dixieland jazz, rock/pop, and so forth.  Such a style can work fantastically well.  Or not.  This recording starts off with the basses droning on in chant, way too closely recorded – something that gets even worse in some places – and then moves on to full choir and soloists in turn.  The orchestral music, solo instrumental and small ensemble sections, and jazz, pop, and electronic bits all come and go, as do some reciters.  In artistic spirit, it is quite similar to BAZ, but in composition and construction and execution, it is no match.  There's a very amateurish, almost grad student project vibe to the whole thing.  Clearly, this was not produced by a record label with bucks to spend, so that is to be expected.  It's not a completely terrible work, but it is not great, and not even particularly good.  Maybe it needs a rerecording – or a rewrite. 

The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



A few years back, I discovered Isabel Bayrakdarian while listening to a group of works by Armenian composers.  Rediscovery is a better description since I'd long owned MTT's Mahler 2, in which she performs, and she sang in The Lord of the Rings soundtrack.  But it was with Joyous Light, one of my purchases on the century, where I became permanently and irrevocably enamored with her voice.  I snapped up various other recordings, but nothing in a while.  Revisiting John Axelrod's recording of Górecki's Third, I determined I should try something else, so I picked up two new to me recordings.  I decided to listen to this disc, La Zingarella – Through Romany Songland, first, just 'cuz.  The recording includes setting of gypsy or gypsy-inspired songs from all over the world by eleven different composers, seven I've heard before, and four newbies (kinda).  The old hands are Liszt, Brahms, Dvořák, Bizet, Lehár, Kálmán, and Herbert.  The newbies for me are Sebastián Iradier (kinda), Joaquín Valverde, Henry FB Gilbert, and Maurice Yvain.  While I have heard Liszt, Brahms, and Dvořák songs before, it wouldn't have mattered much since all but Bizet's Habanera are presented here in new chamber music arrangements, with a special focus on violin. Violinist Mark Fewer handles the crucial violin part throughout, and Juan-Miguel Hernandez handles the viola.  The Gryphon Trio joins in, as well. 

With twenty-seven tracks, it doesn't make sense to go into great detail.  Suffice it to report that Liszt's opener sets a high standard which is met right through to the end of the disc.  Brahms' Zigeunerlieder all come off splendidly well, with both the gypsy elements and the Brahmsian sound intact.  Dvořák's Cigánské Melodie offer a qualitative step up from the Liszt and Brahms, with the original tunes, the new arrangements, and the singer's singing all combining to pack a wallop.  Then comes the surprise in the form of Sebastián Iradier.  Three beefy songs all sound as tuneful, as seductive, as compelling as anything, with the ending and very famous El arreglito the right way to cap off his music.  (Bayrakdarian knew how to select the tunes.)  The super-famous Bizet comes next, and Bayrakdarian nails it.  The brief Valverde piece sounds lovely.  Then come two from Gilbert, reverted back to the original Spanish from his English setting, and the songs of South American Chinganeros have real verve and swing.  The title for the album comes from an 1889 book by Laura Alexandrine Smith, and the two song texts derive from that book.  The four closing tracks are all extracted from various operattas, and all sound just nifty, and fully like what one expects stylistically.  The Kálmán manages to mix gypsy music and a Puccinian soundworld quite expertly.  Super nice.  The lucky listeners gets to hear Bayrakdarian sing in English in the famous Herbert closer, and she nails it. 

Sonics are superb.  Bayrakdarian gets much love and attention and sounds larger than life, and that's fine, but she does not suffer from vocal gigantism.  The church the music was recorded in sounds fantastic, with perfect decay and resonance for the music, and the engineers went for a truthful, wide-dynamic range sound.  Oh yeah.  Playing is all top notch, and the accompanying notes are nice enough.  It's also pretty much an all Bayrakdarian affair, as she produced and owns the recording.  I also learned that she has a degree in biomedical engineering and currently is a prof and admin at UCSB.  She's a Renaissance Woman.

A purchase of the year?  Oh yeah, a purchase of the year.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



One joy of this Requiem survey is the number of new to me composers I am encountering, like Thierry Huillet.  A pianist composer in the mold of the great Fazil Say, he has recorded a decent amount as a pianist, has won competitions, teaches, and does the things so many other contemporary composers do.   So maybe this dude can deliver another knockout Requiem with a different sound.  You see, this Requiem is scored for two sopranos and strings.  It starts with appealingly wordless vocalizing, before the strings arrive, and they evoke some darkness.  But then the pattern of the work is established.  Beautiful singing soaring over almost constantly lyrical string writing.  Huillet mixes things up and with no little frequency peppers the string writing with nice dissonances, but of the loveliest type.  Indeed, the pared down forces almost cannot help but sound beautiful.  In the continuous Dies Irae and Tuba Mirum, some edgy scruffiness is introduced in the form of what amounts to Schreienstimme, but that just emphasizes and does not terrify.  In the Agnus Dei, Huillet summons sounds quite reminiscent of Bartók's Divertimento.  Overall, this is quite the nice, modernist, French Requiem.  Not a towering masterpiece, but something to revisit with no compunction.  Huillet and the record label also provide the listener with a brief encore in the form of a Prelude for Viola and String Orchestra.  It's a heckuva an encore.  Ample tension, tasty dissonance, and drama pervade.  The very brief piece most definitely leaves the listener wanting more.  That's the way to do it. 

Playing, singing, and sound are all up to contemporary standards.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



While revisiting the recordings of Moriz Rosenthal, my ears perked up a bit when he played a miniature by Anatoly Liadov.  I don't know for sure how many pieces by Lyadov I have heard, though I am certain they are all small and buried in big boxes.  But there was enough there, as played by Rosenthal, that I thought I should sample an all-Lyadov recording.  As it happens, they are rare, especially so when it comes to piano.  I did manage to find this recording by Yoko Kikuchi (I don't know if she's related to Yusuke).  The sixteen tracks cover fourteen miniatures (Preludes, Waltzes, and the like) and two beefier sets of variations. 

It is not inaccurate to state that the Preludes sound like proto-Scriabin works, creating a bridge between Chopin and the Mysterium dude.  They sound lovely and languid, and Kikuchi plays with a very sensitive touch, and a closely recorded one at that.  The sometimes encored Une tabatière à musique comes off nicely, and the two waltzes sound pleasant enough, though the "petite" waltz is substantially longer than the regular one.  Variations sur un thème populaire polonaise, Op. 51 follows, and this offers something a bit more.  The foursquare theme allows the composer to liberally expand on the material in several directions, sort of like LvB's Diabellis, though the result here is not a towering masterpiece.  It does generally sound quite beautiful, and occasionally a bit dynamic, but it remains compact and safe, which works well.  The stilted rhythm and brightness of Marionnettes, Op. 29 renders it one of the most delightful pieces included here.  Surely, it should appear on more programs.  A couple more miniatures follow, and then comes the big work, Variations sur un thème de Glinka, Op. 35.  By turns lovely, jaunty, introspective, and gleeful, it sounds basically like Slavic Mendelssohn, with some Schumann tossed in for good measure.  I can't say it's a titanic masterpiece, but it exceeded (admittedly) low expectations.  A couple more miniatures end the recording in fine, lovely style. 

Ms Kikuchi plays excellently throughout, making me think I should listen to more of her recordings.  I shall make it a point to try more Lyadov, as well. 
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Florestan

Quote from: Todd on March 01, 2023, 04:12:43 AMI thought I should sample an all-Lyadov recording.  As it happens, they are rare, especially so when it comes to piano.

...

I shall make it a point to try more Lyadov, as well.


Every kind of music is good, except the boring kind. — Rossini

Todd



Here's a two out of three new composer disc.  Alfred Desenclos and Pierre Villette are both new to me, though Poulenc very much is not.  Both Desenclos and Villette are 20th Century composers who do not appear to have written much in the way of frequently played works in the concert and recital halls of the world, but they seem to have known their business on the basis of this recording.

Desenclos' Messe de Requiem, dating from 1963, sounds entirely unlike what one would think a work from that year would sound like.  It's a thirty-six-minute setting for organ and chorus, thus evoking the type of sound that has been used for Requiems for a few centuries now.  It is influenced by music going all the way back to chant, but it more resembles the gentle, gorgeous – and I mean gorgeous – style one associates with Faure and Durufle.  The extent one enjoys this may depend on how much one enjoys organ music, which is very well done, but the choral writing is at times so sumptuously and achingly and romantically beautiful, with such bewitching harmonies, that one nearly melts into a puddle of spiritual goo.  For me, I see it as a Faure- Ešenvalds mashup, though it does not ascend to the highest heights of either, nor does it sound like either.  This piece sounds both hyper-conservative and radical given its composition year, and it constitutes a spectacular find.  I am completely certain that some people would hear this and think of it as a snoozefest, but there you go.

Three Villette and then and then two Desenclos a capella pieces follow.  All display similar degrees of beauty as the Requiem, though scaled down.  The disc closes out with Poulenc's Litanies à la vierge noire de Rocamadour, which includes organ.  More dissonant and modern than the other composers' works, it, too beguiles.  I have Dutoit's version, so an A/B, while not needed, could be fun.

Singers and organists do superb work.  This recording is so fine that I suspect I shall buy it.  It's just over an hour of transportive beauty, a respite from the violence and propaganda and unyielding noise of the world. 

Magnifique.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



So, like, I ain't a fan of harps.  Never have been.  I don't hate harps, I just don't really care for them, and I have never sought out a recording including harp.  I mention this because this recording relies heavily on the harp.  The harp remains the only constant accompaniment for all songs, with a flute and duduk alternately adding more color and contrast for Ms Bayrakdarian in this collection of twenty-nine Armenian songs for children.  It turns out that for this recording and this music, the harp is the thing.  It's needed and only it would suffice to help augment the soprano's singing.

And that singing is some of the most mesmerizing, beautiful, touching, and moving I've ever heard.  This is the small-scale, intimate companion to Joyous Light.  Bayrakdarian may very well offer this recording as a learning aid to her voice students, so perfectly realized is the execution.  Every syllable, every note, every inflection is both obviously thought out and delivered with deep emotional involvement and spontaneity.  That is to say, the singing is perfect.  That's all deafeningly obvious even before reading the liner notes.  Some of these songs have been sung in her family for generations, stretching back to her ancestors' history in the old country.  Her mother sang some of these songs to her as an infant, just as she did for her children, to whom she dedicates this recording.  The selections include songs that survived with her family, who lived through the Armenian Genocide, thus magnifying their significance.  The songs themselves come from the well-known Gomidas Vartabed (aka, Komitas), and his less well-known students Parsegh Ganatchian and Mihran Toumajan, and some traditional folk songs are included as well.  Every single song captivates, and for me the Ganatchian songs probably stand out as the most meltingly beautiful and affecting. 

This recording was very much a passion project for Ms Bayrakdarian, who made sure to include Armenian language lyrics.  A map of the Ottoman Empire at the start of the 20th Century is included, along with reference to the cities represented in the selected songs.  WaPo writer David Ignatius and his sister Sarah penned the intro.  Bayrakdarian also included family photos with her children, godchildren, and one of her as an infant with her namesake great-grandmother.  The seriousness and devotion here is beyond question.   

This is one of the greatest vocal recital recordings I've ever heard.  It equals Joyous Light

A purchase of the century. 
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

Todd



I won't lie, this recording of Vyacheslav Artyomov's Requiem caught my eye because of the nifty cover image.  Marketing works.  I perused the Wikipedia article for the composer, and the things that stuck out are his background in physics and the fact that he was blacklisted.  That latter fact may help explain why his Requiem, penned in the 80s, is dedicated To the Martyrs of Long-suffering Russia.  Maybe not.  Whatever the case, this modern work seemed to demand attention.

An organ blast followed quickly by choral outpouring starts things off in an intense, dark, at times eerie, and almost constantly dissonant fashion.  These traits never completely abate, nor do what sound to me like Eastern Orthodox musical traditions, but I could be wrong on that one.  What seems even more evident is the influence of Gubaidulina and Ligeti on his style.  Indeed, some of the passages sound so much like Ligeti, that it triggered a (false) sense of musical déjà vu.  I mean this as the highest possible compliment.  The blending of soloists, chorus, orchestra, and organ is so seamless, so smooth, with such unerringly well executed transitions, that the massive work just flows along, one potent idea to the next.  Some of the compositional devices might sound trite on their own and in a different context, but not here.  And then there are some unique things.  The disorienting undulating sound of the Offertorium followed by the purposely wobbly (and maybe electronically distorted) singing in the Sanctus bring something new to the genre, at least in my listening experience.  The two-part Libera Me has a massive, rumbling organ underpinning the chorus in the first half, and a great orchestral lament to open the second half that really hits the spot.  The work concludes with an In Paradisum that starts with a Messiaenesque blob of birdcall accentuated by obtrusively closely recorded percussion before swelling into a grandiose, almost indistinct wall of sound with chorus, before returning to a lighter, bird call infused cloud of ethereal goodness.  Yeah, just yeah.

No less than Dimitri Kitaenko conducts the work, and he does a rather fine job, as do the Moscow Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra, the soloists, and the two choirs.  Excellent sound rounds out a fine recording.  I will have to explore more Artyomov, and based on this and the Kastalsky Requiem, I may have to explore more liturgical music in the Russian and Eastern Orthodox traditions.
The universe is change; life is opinion. - Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

People would rather believe than know - E.O. Wilson

Propaganda death ensemble - Tom Araya

foxandpeng

Quote from: Todd on March 12, 2023, 06:23:21 AM

I won't lie, this recording of Vyacheslav Artyomov's Requiem caught my eye because of the nifty cover image.  Marketing works.  I perused the Wikipedia article for the composer, and the things that stuck out are his background in physics and the fact that he was blacklisted.  That latter fact may help explain why his Requiem, penned in the 80s, is dedicated To the Martyrs of Long-suffering Russia.  Maybe not.  Whatever the case, this modern work seemed to demand attention.

An organ blast followed quickly by choral outpouring starts things off in an intense, dark, at times eerie, and almost constantly dissonant fashion.  These traits never completely abate, nor do what sound to me like Eastern Orthodox musical traditions, but I could be wrong on that one.  What seems even more evident is the influence of Gubaidulina and Ligeti on his style.  Indeed, some of the passages sound so much like Ligeti, that it triggered a (false) sense of musical déjà vu.  I mean this as the highest possible compliment.  The blending of soloists, chorus, orchestra, and organ is so seamless, so smooth, with such unerringly well executed transitions, that the massive work just flows along, one potent idea to the next.  Some of the compositional devices might sound trite on their own and in a different context, but not here.  And then there are some unique things.  The disorienting undulating sound of the Offertorium followed by the purposely wobbly (and maybe electronically distorted) singing in the Sanctus bring something new to the genre, at least in my listening experience.  The two-part Libera Me has a massive, rumbling organ underpinning the chorus in the first half, and a great orchestral lament to open the second half that really hits the spot.  The work concludes with an In Paradisum that starts with a Messiaenesque blob of birdcall accentuated by obtrusively closely recorded percussion before swelling into a grandiose, almost indistinct wall of sound with chorus, before returning to a lighter, bird call infused cloud of ethereal goodness.  Yeah, just yeah.

No less than Dimitri Kitaenko conducts the work, and he does a rather fine job, as do the Moscow Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra, the soloists, and the two choirs.  Excellent sound rounds out a fine recording.  I will have to explore more Artyomov, and based on this and the Kastalsky Requiem, I may have to explore more liturgical music in the Russian and Eastern Orthodox traditions.


Thank you for this.
"A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people ... then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbour — such is my idea of happiness"

Tolstoy