What are you listening 2 now?

[Symphonic Addict]

A quite compelling disc. These concertos are more interesting than I remembered.

[Linz]

Anton Bruckner Sympphny No. 8 in C Minor, 1887 Original Version. Ed. Leopold Nowak
National Symphony Orchestra of Ireland, Georg Tintner

[Linz]

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky Manfred Symphony, Op. 58
London Philharmonic Orchestra, Vladimir Jurowski

[Symphonic Addict]

Martinu: Jazz Suite, Le Jazz and Thunderbolt P-47

[DavidW]

[Linz]

Johann Sebastian Bach Six Partitas, Gustav Leonhardt Sonatas
Sonatas 4-6

[VonStupp]

Malcolm Arnold
Little Suite 1, op. 53
Little Suite 2, op. 78
Manx Suite 'LS 3', op. 142
Concerto for 28 Players, op. 105
Ruth Gipps Variations, op. 122
City of London Sinfonia - Richard Hickox

I don't think I have seen the Variations on a Theme of Ruth Gipps anywhere else, so I hold on to this recording still. It is a marvelous work.
VS

[Symphonic Addict]

Easley Blackwood's three string quartets. Fascinating!

[Linz]

Anton Bruckner Symphony No. 1 in C Minor, 1868 Linz version - Ed. Thomas Roeder [2016]
Gürzenich-Orchester Köln, François-Xavier Roth

[Mister Sharpe]

I am a sucker for Bax's faery, mythological and pantheistic worlds.  And I've never interpreted them as anything but absolutely real, powerful and influential in the lives of us petty mortals...though, of course, most of them want nothing to do with us and who can blame them? 

[Symphonic Addict]

Turina: Sonata romántica, Sonata Fantasía and Sanlúcar de Barrameda (Sonata pintoresca)

[Que]

[Que]

The most interesting item on this recording is the Missa Quarti Toni by the Veronese composer Vincenzo Ruffo (c. 1508 – 1587).

[AnotherSpin]

Symphonie funèbre et triomphale, Sir Colin Davis, London Symphony Orchestra

So, Paris Saint-Germain crushed the behemoth that is Real. And did it with style. A clear enough reminder, really, that money, resources, and a swollen sense of self-importance don't necessarily guarantee a victory. The music of the moment matches the mood: big, bold, slightly unhinged. Just as triumph should be.

[Que]

[Irons]

Bliss: Cello Concerto.

[Harry]

(New Release)

Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber (1644–1704)
Sonatas Nos. 1–3, 5, 6; Sonata Representativa in A major.
Rachel Podger, Violin.
Brecon Baroque.
Recorded 2024, St. Peter's Church, Great Haseley (UK)
192kHz/24-bit — state-of-the-art sound

Rachel Podger has long been one of the most eloquent voices in the realm of Baroque violin, and this new release — aptly titled Just Biber — is a radiant affirmation of her art. Few violinists so completely understand the singular technical and expressive world of Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber.

These sonatas are famously rich in affect and flourish, full of scordatura tuning, sudden tempo changes, and virtuosic demands that can expose even the most accomplished players. But in Podger's hands, the music never feels like a trial — rather, it unfolds with ease, elegance, and clarity.
Sonatas 1–3, 5, and 6 show Biber's early mastery of stylus fantasticus — a form of freely structured instrumental writing, theatrical and unpredictable, that asks for bold contrasts in dynamics, bow pressure, and articulation. Podger leans into this with tasteful rubato, a refined use of portamento in lyrical passages, and razor-sharp passagework where the bow dances over the fingerboard with featherlight precision. Particularly moving is her interpretation of the Sonata Representativa, where animal imitations — the cuckoo, nightingale, cat, and frog — become more than mere curiosities. Here, they're whimsical touches inside a fully lived musical narrative.

The continuo playing from Brecon Baroque is every bit as finely wrought. Rather than merely underpinning the solo line, they create a supple tapestry of sound: the theorbo breathes gently into the space, while the Harpsichord/Organ and Cello provide a rhythmic and harmonic bed as sensitive as it is sonorous. On track 23, something rather rare occurs: the inclusion of a drum and rebolo. The effect is striking — not at all intrusive, but quietly galvanizing, a rhythmic presence that deepens the moment without disrupting the texture. It's a bold choice, and it works beautifully. This is chamber music in the fullest sense, conversational and alive with inner movement.
The recorded sound is superb — warm yet detailed, with every nuance of the bow and gut strings captured in luminous resolution. You can hear the subtle resonance of St. Peter's Church as if seated in the front pew: a natural acoustic bloom that never blurs the lines of the counterpoint.
This recording doesn't just meet expectations — it quietly redefines them. I've heard many fine interpretations of these sonatas over the years, but Podger and her ensemble have offered something exceptional. A reference recording in every sense.

[Harry]

Luzzasco Luzzaschi (c.1545–1607).
Concerto delle Dame. Madrigali per cantare et sonare a 1, 2, 3 soprani (1601).
La Venexiana, Claudio Cavina.
Roberta Mameli, Emanuela Galli, Francesca Cassinari (sopranos)
Recorded August 2009, Chiesa di San Giovanni, Pinerolo, Italy
44.1kHz / 16-bit recording.

Some years back, I fell head over heels for the sound world of La Venexiana — their Monteverdi interpretations first opened that door, and I've wandered happily through ever since. Under the guiding hand of Claudio Cavina, this ensemble has often chosen sopranos who know when to rein in the vibrato, let the line breathe, and most importantly, sing the text — not chew it, not emote it into oblivion, but caress every syllable as though it were spun gold.
This is nowhere more vital than in the music of Luzzasco Luzzaschi, a true poet-musician of the late Italian Renaissance. His Madrigali per cantare et sonare a 1, 2, 3 soprani (1601) — composed for the legendary Concerto delle Dame, that elite Ferraran trio of courtly sopranos — are works of exceptional refinement. These are not madrigals for the village square or rustic frolic, but courtly jewels meant to be tasted slowly.
The texts, full of elegant torment and sighing delight, seem to be written in the very structure of my heart, if you'll permit the indulgence. Consider the line:

"O dolcezze amarissime d'amore!" —
O most bitter sweetnesses of love!

A contradiction, yes, but a musical one — and Cavina's singers walk that line with subtlety. The trio of Mameli, Galli, and Cassinari summon a vocal blend that is at once fragile and focused, floating above an instrumental continuo that weaves gossamer lines beneath — harpsichord, theorbo, organ, and viol working together like a painter's brush strokes behind the gleaming figures in the foreground.

Another line drifts upward:

"Torna, deh torna, Amor, torna al mio core"
Return, ah return, Love, return to my heart

— a phrase not just sung but breathed, weightless and pained, suspended above the bass like a leaf clinging to its final moment of autumn air. And later still:

"Io moro, ahimè, se'l mio ben non mi mira."
I die, alas, if my beloved does not look upon me.

It is poetry set to sighs, longing sculpted in sound.

The recording itself is fine, refined rather — caught in the resonant but not over-generous acoustic of the Chiesa di San Giovanni. Detail is preserved, and there is just enough bloom around the voices to warm their crystalline tone.
To spend time with this recording is to sit at the edge of a candlelit court, as the sighs of the heart are made sound. It's not often one finds something so delicately composed, so exquisitely rendered — and so well recorded, at that. One could do worse than spend a long afternoon here, dreaming in the language of madrigals.

[Mister Sharpe]

This was my very first Bax piano repertoire CD, purchased in '89 or 90 and it foretold the acquisition of many more. My wife and I quickly grew addicted to the hard-driving rhythms in many of these works, the duo pianos' cross-talk, and their wonderfully evocative themes. The piano was Bax's instrument and it shows:  he was a virtuoso, a renowned sight-reader, and a great career was predicted for him, though it was not a path he chose for himself. His personal predilection was composing, of course, but one does wonder if performance was not an option owing to a.) just too much hard work!; b.) Bax's shy, retiring nature; or c.) a & b. If Bax's thick, complex orchestration has sent you scurrying, you might give these eminently more accessible works a spin.

[Roasted Swan]

This was my very first Bax piano repertoire CD, purchased in '89 or 90 and it foretold the acquisition of many more. My wife and I quickly grew addicted to the hard-driving rhythms in many of these works, the duo pianos' cross-talk, and their wonderfully evocative themes. The piano was Bax's instrument and it shows:  he was a virtuoso, a renowned sight-reader, and a great career was predicted for him, though it was not a path he chose for himself. His personal predilection was composing, of course, but one does wonder if performance was not an option owing to a.) just too much hard work!; b.) Bax's shy, retiring nature; or c.) a & b. If Bax's thick, complex orchestration has sent you scurrying, you might give these eminently more accessible works a spin.

My inclination would strongly favour "b".  Given the overt passion of his music, Bax's retiring nature - which boardered on extreme precluded any 'performing' career.  Any direct attention directed at him persoanlly seems to have been an anathema.